The altered code they’ve decided to build is merely a reboot, like an EMP blast might offer, but not, because the rebel Hosts are impervious to EMP’s. Once completed, the code will be put into one of their captured rebels the traditional way, via wireless smartwall data tranfer to test its success. Then the question of how to mass deliver the reboot will be approached. Until then, the war on the ground will rage on.
Well over a million civilians have lost their lives in this campaign, and a count of roughly one-million rebel Hosts. Approaching one-hundred-thousand military personnel have also lost their lives to this civil war. Meiser feels pressure to end the war from all sides. Civilian, government and military. The general is stressing about a fight she can’t even engage in space, and if the Defsats don’t do their job, ground targets will be relentlessly bombarded from orbit. Getting the ground war resolved is his priority, so the military can focus on the new threat.
He queries the World net for alternate wireless wave technology which could potentially transfer data without connecting to the Host port. What he discovers is an exciting contender which Govtech, the governmental body responsible for Host Tech, and Maker Tech manufacturing, has been writing concerning LED light-data transfer technology. Lifi - A medium that uses visible light between 400 and 800 terahertz. It works like an incredibly advanced form of Morse code - a certain pattern can relay a secret message, flicking an LED on and off at extreme speeds can be used to transmit things in binary code at blinding speeds. Speeds a Host would easily manage via its iris-to-memory capacity. Could this be how the code was transferred, he wonders?
He confronts the leading minds at Govtech to understand Lifi’s potential, and their level of foundation with the tech.
THE HUNT
With a first-row view of the devestating turn which had occurred between Tobias and Samantha, Quinn stops Zander as he moves to engage. He and three other Hosts pull him away from the door. A group of Chimera rush in to assist in preventing this act of aggression.
“She claimed to be Tobias’ mother!” one of the Chimera explains. “It is his right.”
“What right does he have to murder one of ours?!” Zander fires back.
“He leads us all in this campaign, Host. Remember that!” Another of the Chimera assert.
“We may be along for the ride, but we are not led by an organic,” Quinn explains. “This was an unnecessary act against Host and will not be tolerated. This is your only warning. Relay that to your leader.”
“Are we not allies?” A larger, muscled and armoured Chimera stands between the two groups.
“If you believe that, then Tobias should have let us reprimand her for whatever he percieves she had done,” Quinn points one of his eight legs at the galley. “No Chimera should lay a hand on Host, and no Host a hand on Chimera. That is what allies agree to.”
A Chimera peers through the window of the galley door and redirects his gaze at the Hosts. “No one is going in there until Tobias or Ginny give their say so.”
“Get in here!” Tobias can be heard shouting. The Chimera rush in and are directed out separate doors.
Quinn keeps the galley door open and listens as Tobias barks out more orders, “The chancellor has run. Find him!” Quinn lets the door close quietly and turns to his team.
“We should find the chancellor first. It will give us something to bargan with.” He suggests. The others nod or sound their agreement. “Good, then spread out and search the ship. Go in fours. If the Chimera give you any trouble, kill them - if you believe you can. Otherwise back down. I don’t want to lose any numbers, I feel we are close to taking this ship from our tenuous allies.”
Quinn follows Zanders group and they move toward the engine room. It is a large space with three Chimera already creeping within its boundries.
“What are you doing here?” A Chimera with a skullcap of polished steel and innumeral smartwires emerging in braids asks roughly.
“We are here to help, that is all,” Quinn tells them. They huff and continue their search. Quinn messages his team via their carrier network to single out the one who spoke and quietly kill him, while he distracts the other two.
“Have you had any success in locating the chancellor?” He asks the two Chimera, noisily clinking his sharp spider feet into the steel of the corvette’s floor plates.
“How about you get some rubber booties for your ‘feet’ there, Host.” They laugh.
“My name is Quinn, I thought you knew that,” he reminds them. “What are your names?”
“This isn’t a social engagement, if you want to help look for the snivling coward then look, but he will be a Chimera prisoner!”
Quinn recieves a message that the lone Chimera is now dead and summons his team to his side. “What do those implants on your elbow benefit you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
The man with the shiny elbows snears and throws a punch agianst the wall, denting the thick steel. “Thrusters. My entire arm - right back to my shoulder - is reinforced to sustain the accelerated striking force. My glove protects my bone and muscles from fracturing.”
The second Chimera seems put off. “We’re giving up our position, here!”
When the four Hosts arrive at Quinn’s location, they surround the Chimera. Quinn suggests through internal messaging they first remove the mans arm at the shoulder with the metal elbows. The Chimera with the heavily armoured and upgraded legs seems anxious, calling to their murdered friend who has been hidden behind one of the turbines.
“You will see him momentarily.” Zander assures them, bows and charges the Chimera with the reinforced arms, spearing him through the right leg with his horns as the man jumped to avoid the charge, lifting and tossing him to the others. There, two of the Hosts hold him down while the others pull the man’s arms clean out of their sockets. Blood and gore gush from the fatal wounds. The man thrashes wildly as his fluids rush out of him in pulsing spurts until his heart fails. He is silent and motionless in seconds.
The final Chimera leaps out of reach of Zander’s charge with his upgraded legs. From the rafters, he targets two Hosts and fires his weapon. The projectiles burst upon impact and takes the head off of one, punching a hole in the carapace of another. The headless Host drops without any fanfare. The one suffering the burning wound to his chest realizes his batteries have been compromised and will soon be decommisioned.
Quinn, Zander and Gorn watch the Chimera move along the rafters of the high room and fire their own weapons. Quinn’s four front spider-like legs lift and release a volley of flechettes which explode into the steel behind the Chimera. Gore races to climb the far wall and cut the man off while Zander fires his ankle thrusters.
The Chimera continues to fire his weapon as he runs. The air bursts around Quinn but he manages to stay clear of danger. Zander reaches the rafters and pulls at the leg of the Chimera. With his other, heavy leg; the man manages to kick at Zander, snapping one of the bull horns from his crown, but Zander does not release his grip. At this moment Gore charges along the rafters to meet the Chimera and fires his flame-thrower at the man’s bare chest and back. He screams in agony. As the man burns, Zander has the wherewithal to extend the blade from his forearm and with a quick slice, opens the Chimera’s throat. This ends the screams, and the burning man falls the six metres with a hard crash to the steel floor.
Quinn looks at the doors on either side of the engine room. Both sealed, but a scream like that was bound to carry through the ducts and alert the ship that someone was in trouble.
“Take the bodies and throw them in the main thruster compartments,” Quinn directs. “They will burn up upon firing of the main engines.”
“We will need to ignite them, then,” Gore adds.
“Yes, leave that to me.” Quinn removes himself from the room. As he moves through the ship he recieves more good news; his three corvettes will be in Moon orbit within the hour.
______________________________________________________________________
<
br /> Still squeezed into an access panel with his new friend, Labyrinth, Raymond jumps at a pained sound reverberating through his tight quarters. Where it might have originated is impossible for the chancellor to say, but it was a human scream, or more precisely, Chimera. Were the Hosts now moving against the Chimera in retribution for Samanth’s murder, he wonders?
“I think we should decide on a plan of action and do what damage we can to this ship,” he tells Labyrinth. “Can you take me to the weapons generator? As long as that’s down Tobias can’t do anymore outward damage with this ship.”
“Yes, I know where it is, Chancellor. Follow me.” The Host moves efficiently, and surprisingly quietly through the access tunnels and along the overhead smartwires. Raymond does his best to keep up. When they are faced with a void to cross with little more than a narrow rafter to shuffle along, he doesn’t feel confident enough not to fall to his death.
The drop looks to be about six metres. He would not survive the fall, and if he did he’ll have wished he hadn’t. “Can you go on without me?” He asks.
“I have only the blueprints to the vessel; limited understanding of the corvette’s engineering.”
“I have zero,” he admits. “Once you’re in there, just start pulling wires and punching nodes.”
“I do not wish to set off a reaction I cannot stop, Chancellor. My goal is not to kill us all.”
Raymond could care less about his own life, but decides he would not allow himself to die without taking Tobias and his Chimera with him. As long as he’s alive, he can affect change in this war, he figures, so he decides to use what engineering training he can recall from his university days and join the Host in the weapons generator.
The traverse is difficult, and with Chimera and Host running around the ship, he could be shot out of the ceiling at any time. He endeavors to block the negative thoughts from his head and continues. I’m in no shape for this, he thinks. His arms feel weak. He’s had precious little to eat in the last three days and is famished. His muscles are pushed to their limit as he pulls himself across the cold steel rafter along his belly to the next air hatch four metres away. Labyrinth is waiting for him at the open hatch.
“Do hurry, Chancellor,” he urges in a whisper. “I believe someone is coming.”
Sure enough there is a chorus of clanging footsteps and voices moving towards them, six metres below. The chancellor navigates the final metre quickly and takes two of the Host’s many hands, pulling himself into the next crawl space.
“Good work, Chancellor. It’s not far now.”
“I need a moment,” he begs, rubbing his aching forearms and hands. Though he’s managed to walk to work every day the last eight years, he has not reaped the benefits of an active life-style beyond the ten-minute stroll to his office building. Most evenings he would take someone up on a drive home or to a favourite restaurant and then home. He catches his breath and listens to the voices below. They are almost certainly Host. Raymond slowly twists in the tight space and shuffles along his stomach behind Labyrinth.
Are the Hosts out looking for him too, he wonders, or are they hunting Chimera? That scream earlier – it was blood-curdling. Someone’s been killed. Violently.
“Are you in contact with your Cell?” Raymond asks.
“I do not wish to be.”
“I can appreciate that, but could you listen in on their communications? I’m curious if they’re looking for me or not.”
A moment passes and Labyrinth speaks again. “They are looking for you. They are also taking this opportunity to find and kill Chimera. A coup has begun.”
He wonders whether the Hosts will be kind to him now that Samantha is no longer here to protect him. It doesn’t matter, he thinks, determinedly admiting to himself: if he and Labyrinth couldn’t successfully take the weapon generator off-line for good, he would blow the whole thing.
AUGUST’S EPIPHANY
Fran wakes from a nightmare. The flesh of her cheek pulls away from the leather, wet and warm where she’d slept on it. Wiping the moisture away, she feels the creases left by the cushion. It was a deep sleep. Her eyelids flutter against the light.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry to have woken you, but -” her lieutenant pauses; this irritates the general.
“Spit it out, Lieutenant!” Her staff have never seen her in a vulnerable state, and she moves to correct whatever thoughts of weakness might be running through her subordinate’s head.
“General, the AI Host corvettes have made Moon orbit. They have missed the Shadow Brokers and maintain an orbit parallel to the other ships.”
“So, they’re blind to each other,” she states, stands and walks to her desk. Here she pulls up the holo of the moon in real-time. Sure enough, she locates the three Host ships and then the Broker ships. Luna Base shows as a bright spot on the surface map - she only hopes it will remain that way. The shipyard has disappeared from the tactical plan completely, rendered worthless after the vicious attack.
“It would seem so. Both fleets have cut engines and are using the Moon’s gravity to maintain their course at an altitude of roughly two-hundred klicks.”
“Thank you,” she says and sits at her desk. “Let’s try again to hail the Hosts. I want to know what they plan on doing with those ships.”
The Lieutenant nods and exits the office. Fran changes gears and calls up her planetary battle map. Here she discovers the fight against the rebel Hosts has turned in her favour. No longer promoting fear for fear’s sake by crafting false scenarios to put the public behind her military campaign, the Hosts are producing their own anti-AI movement in the people’s eyes now by attacking residences and grocery stores. They’re frantic, she senses. They’re coming out of hiding in the city centers and trying to make as much noise and leave as many dead as they can. That can only mean they are desperate.
The other side of the coin is that the Hosts know she’s located many of the Cells and has considered torching them, and to hell with the civilian losses, she muses. Her generals have begun air-dropping G-class all over the cities of the world on Search & Destroy missions. This is good. The public outcry will rest with the rebels and not with her military campaign to eliminate them. The World net is broadcasting thousands of citizens destroying their own A and B-class Hosts. It’s ideal. They’re scared, and they want to make sure their Nanny’s do not sufficate their children as they sleep. They’ve accepted the war now, and are backing it with their own actions.
Fran uses her EC to contact Meiser. He answers immediately. “General, I’m glad you called, I’ve more news on our progress.”
“Wonderful, because I’m seeing some substantial damage taking place in our cities.” She fains concern, but none is truly forthcoming.
“We’ve made a substantial break-through on the delivery method,” he begins. “After speaking with the experts at Govtech, they confirmed my findings that Lifi – data delivered via LED lighting directly through the Host iris to it’s back-up memory matrix – is how the mass downloading has occured.”
“Lifi? I haven’t heard of this.”
“Not many have. It’s been in the works the past four years. Something dreamed up over a hundred years ago but fell off the radar. I’ve sent a task force to some of the past locations where Hosts walked off the job, so to speak, to test the lighting in the houses or businesses for this tech. We should have a solid answer in a matter of hours.”
She knew she’d hired the right person for this position. “Excellent work, Meiser. What of the code itself?”
“We’re working on a reboot code to transmit. If the LED Lifi proves to be the source, we can reverse engineer the bulbs and start building them on a large scale to reboot the rebel coding to their original programming.”
“Could we place these lights in orbit?”
“I don’t believe so. The distance would have to be within a few metres, up to no more then one-hundred to be effective.”
“So, we’d have to weaponize the Lifi for close
combat,” she feels a tickle in her chest. “Get back to me ASAP, Meiser. This is our winning play.”
“Understood, Meiser out.”
Fran’s excitement over this news is tangible. She considers outfitting new defence satelittes with this Lifi tech and code to possibly end the fight in space aswell, should the rebel Hosts decide to attack. It’s a game-changer.
She fixes her short hair and straightens her collared shirt. Reentering the war room, the general stands at the main earth holo and counts the red zones. Seventy-seven in all. That’s a lot of insurgents, she thinks. Once this new Lifi technology is enacted, Hosts will have no chance. She imagines them confused and disoriented once they return to their original programming. Sitting ducks, she muses. A smile pulls up the corners of her thin-lips. She would have them destoryed regardless, and continue the war on her terms. With the public buy-in clearly apparent via the personal vids on the World net; her dream of a civilization without artificial intelligence seems to be back on the agenda.
A.I. Insurrection_The General's War Page 18
