None of that is hard to understand. Raymond has buried his head in the sand far longer than he ought to have. He should have reached out when he knew his sister must have died. But he didn’t. Now he’s asked the world to protect the Chimera and rebel Hosts on earth, and to fight the power which began this war. He wonders now, whether this was the right move, whether it would spark rebellion.
“Commander,” the com officer calls for Darla, jarring Raymond from his thoughts. “We have forty-eight rebel Hosts landing ten klicks from Luna Base.”
“The ones attached to the ships?” The commander looks startled.
“The same, Ma’am. The corvettes are retreating to the dark-side. The Hosts appear to be closing on us at a rate of a kilometre every two minutes.”
“So, we have about twenty-minutes to decide what to do,” she says, turning to address Raymond with raised brows. “Do you suppose they heard your speech?”
“They would have the means. Regardless, I don’t want them met with force. I need to speak with their leader, Quinn, if he’s still alive, or whomever is leading them now.”
“We are being hailed, Commander.” The young man at the com announces.
“Put them through,” Darla says.
“Chancellor,” it’s Quinn’s raspy voice Raymond recognizes over the com. “We would like to discuss an alliance.”
Raymond leans into the com and responds. “Quinn, it’s good to hear from you. You and your House will find sanctuary here. Are you in need of repair?”
“Many could benefit from a Host work-cell, Chancellor, thank you.”
“We will prep them for your arrival.” The chancellor turns to Darla and nods for her to prepare the Host work-cells to receive them. “We’ll see you soon.” He ends the communication with another nod to the com officer.
“Forty-eight, you said?” The commander asks her com officer. He confirms and she calls down to the Host work-cells, alerting them of the imminent arrival. “I want to be there when they arrive,” she tells Raymond.
“Me as well,” he states. Darla summons her four C-class security AI Hosts to follow as she and the chancellor move to intercept the rebels. Raymond looks through the double-sided glass wall of the holding room as he passes, where Grumman and his seven decommissioned soldiers sit, watching the World net news.
Once they exit the maglev they attach themselves to guide-railings with their belt tethers to bounce along in the one sixth G the rest of Luna Base endures twenty-four seven. The dome reaches heights of twenty metres with several open-air levels. Heavy vegetation was incorporated to produce oxygen as well as fresh food, and offers a lush, Earth-like appeal. The chancellor marvels at the maglev design of the command structure situated three metres into the moons rocky surface in the center of the dome, silently turning along magnetic tracks powered by the massive solar array which lines the exterior of the dome. This endless energy source allows the train to build enough centrifugal force to offer those inside the ramped compartments the one G required to remain working on the moon for years at a time.
At the north doors, a vacuum seal is always in place, the Hosts will enter the outer doors first and once those are sealed, the inner doors will welcome them. The Host work-cells are situated a few metres to the left of the doors, in an enclosed section. D and E-class AI Hosts stand ready to accept the wounded rebels within the enclosed work-cell areas. Other classes of AI Hosts move through the dome, maintaining its structural fortitude day and night, while A and B-class prepare meals and offer relaxation massages to those in need. B-class doctors attend to the sick within the maglev and C-class offer a level of policing. The F-class were destroyed in the Chimera attack, so if this suggested alliance with the rebel Hosts does not go as expected, the chancellor thinks, he will have opened Luna Base and it’s one-thousand souls to a dangerous enemy. He stands by his decision, though, and believes Quinn’s genuineness when he offered an alliance.
A red light ignites over the wide, north double doors. The sound of metal landing on metal indicates to everyone that the altered Hosts are inside the outer door chamber. A C-class AI Host slides its finger down a panel in the wall and a green light replaces the urgency of the red. The chancellor stands stock still, hands alternating from clenched to flaccid.
“Atmosphere restored to outer chamber. Opening inner doors.” The C-class’ finger slides up another panel and a mist of gasses emerge as the doors swing open. The chancellor’s heart is in his throat. Darla squeezes his hand and looks up at him.
“This is a good thing, Commander,” Raymond tells her, gripping her hand tight. He watches anxiously as the massive, altered Hosts materialize from the mist. He releases Darla’s hand and moves to greet Quinn.
“Any Host requiring repair, please move to your right.” He shouts over the clanging and general confusion. “Host work-cells are ready to service your needs.”
“Chancellor,” Quinn appears with Labyrinth scurrying between his legs. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again.”
“Likewise, Quinn. This is Commander Darla of Luna Base.” He motions towards the clearly stunned, Commander.
Quinn bends his front legs at the knees, bowing before Darla. “On behalf of House Quinn, Commander, thank you for opening your doors to us. I wish a lengthy and mutually beneficial alliance between our two communities.”
“I - yes, thank you. Me too.” She responds awkwardly but with a smile, then looks up to Raymond.
Raymond reconsiders his decision not to share the descriptions of the altered Hosts with her prior to this impromptu meeting. The Hosts look war-hardened with their carapace’s blackened by energy weapons fire, dented and punctured. Moon dust sticks to their reinforced plating and they stink of burnt hair and flesh, rubber and metal.
“Labyrinth!” Raymond calls out when the little Host rises to his full height of one-hundred-twenty-two centimetres. “I’m relieved to see you again.” The chancellor takes a knee, placing a hand on the Host’s head as he would a dog.
“He has been most useful to us, Chancellor, and to you as well, I understand.” Quinn says.
“I couldn’t have made it here without him. When Tobias – when he killed Samantha – I just ran. Labyrinth here hid me from the Chimera and put me on a shuttle after we’d disabled their weapons generator.” He tells Darla.
“Samantha?” Darla wonders aloud.
“My Host sister,” Raymond briefly explains. “She’d claimed to be my reincarnated sister.” He looks Darla in the eye. “I wholly believed her.” Now she knows why he fights for these Hosts.
“I am very pleased to know our efforts were not in vain, and that you are alive and well, Chancellor,” Labyrinth declares. “Excuse me.” He falls to all six and crabs his way to a Host work-cell.
“Let the work-cells diagnose you, Quinn. All of you. The Chimera seem to have disappeared to the dark-side of the moon for the time being. Perhaps to regroup.” Raymond explains.
A Host Raymond has not seen before joins Quinn. “They will attempt to initiate gravity and atmospheric controls on the ships. They will have little luck - those systems were not manufactured - as Host does not require them.” He explains.
“This is Fender,” Quinn introduces the former F-class. “He is the rebel Host who brought the Maker Tech-printed corvettes from earth.”
Raymond again notices the red marking down the center of this new Host’s head indicating his rebel status. He sees Fender’s crown is thicker than most, and his arms elongated and heavy with additional hardware. Neither organic flesh or otherwise conceal the nano-steel of the Host’s exterior. He seems to wear his new body with pride. More ape than human; Raymond imagines those heavy fists landing hard on the ground, launching the Host forward should Fender break into a charge.
“And Quinn is the one who lost my ships,” Fender offers intimidatingly. Raymond is instantly uncomfortable with this Host, who is clearly agitated over his loss.
“Yes, well, if what you say is true, then Tobi
as and his tribe will suffocate before long, and you will have them back.” Raymond states. Fender makes a grumbling noise and moves to his right, to take a work-cell for himself.
“Fender seems aggressive,” Darla says, feigning a smile.
“He is disappointed our battle did not go to plan,” Quinn tells Darla, then turns to Raymond. “You are right, Chancellor, in time the corvettes will be ours again. We need only wait them out.”
“Do you think the Chimera will become desperate and attack Luna Base?” Wonders Darla.
“If they attack in the next three hours, they will be doing so out of spite, knowing they are dying. If not, we can assume they are dead, or have developed a fix and are waiting us out.” Quinn speculates.
“It’s the destroyers he wants. The ones on their way from Mars,” Raymond reminds them.
“Will the approaching destroyers attack Luna Base?” Quinn wonders.
“I doubt it,” Darla submits.
“When we spoke to the armada lead, the captain addressed me as though I were still in a position of power; with respect.” Raymond says.
“Perhaps he doesn’t know any better? August has yet to announce her military coup. The people would not know your powers have been usurped.” Quinn suggests.
“They will know now,” he’s referring to the message sent a few minutes earlier to every network on the planet. “Perhaps it’s best I hail Chopra again,” he says, turning to the Commander. “Now that the message is out.”
“Certainly, Chancellor,” Darla urges. “Please go to the control room, I’ll help facilitate the Host reparation session here.”
Raymond nods, acknowledging them both, and rushes off along the tethered railings, bouncing his way back to the maglev structure.
POLITICAL COMPASS
“General, the chancellor’s broadcast has begun stirring up dissidence in every city around the world,” Major Jackson reports, walking through the general’s open office door.
“As I am sure was his intention,” she calmly explains from the comfort of her armchair. Here she sips at a glass of her favourite, dry Cabernet, watching the very feeds Jackson has stormed in about.
“You seem less than worried,” he notices. “Or have you simply given up?”
“Bite your tongue, Major!” She places her empty glass on the desk. “I have finally arrived at a solution to our rebel Host infestation.”
“That would be most welcome, especially now that half the population is at our throats,”
Major Jackson asserts.
“Yes. Work is also underway to resolve our other issue.”
“The Chimera,” he reasons. “Have you seen the feeds? Our soldiers are unable to protect the gallows from the sheer size of the hoards descending upon them. The chancellor’s words have resonated with the people, and if he expected civilian casualties to cause further fits of rebellion; his plan is taking shape nicely.”
“Then perhaps I should send missiles to the moon; is that what you’re suggesting, Major?”
“I would have suggested that long before he’d had an opportunity to address the people,” he fires back.
“I am not prepared to destroy Luna Base,” General August maintains.
“Then perhaps you are not prepared to win this war, General,” Jackson says with renewed fire in his eyes.
Fran senses a lack of confidence from her right-hand man, and changes gears to win back his favour. She marches out of her office and into the war room. Jackson follows.
“Light up the gallows which are protected, Lieutenant, O’Reilly,” she requests of her aid manning the city eyes. Three-hundred-sixteen light up on the world holo.
“Those lights represent seventy-three percent of our city gallows, Major.” She points toward the floating, turning holo. “In a fight like this, I’m happy with those odds, for now.” She turns to her media officers. “I want all eyes on our working gallows, and an order to parade the first Chimera up the steps in each city within the next ten minutes.”
“You’d mentioned a Host solution? You have a cure?”
“Yes, my man in tech, Meiser, has performed tests on a captured Host. After his team had discovered that a specially designed LED light was transmitting the updated terabytes to alter the Host’s original programming, they reverse-engineered the bulb, and have transmitted their own reboot code.”
“And it’s worked?” Jackson’s interest is peaked.
“It has. They are manufacturing the Lifi LED’s now worldwide, to fit our pulse rifles and canons so our soldiers can dispense the code. Additionally, we’ve been tracking an avatar in the Shadow net, the one who’d introduced the altered code to the Shadow Brokers: Allfather. It was determined early on that the message was delivered over three years ago, originating beyond our solar system.”
“Beyond our – can that be?” Jackson takes a step forward.
“I know how that seems, Major. However, since the military are the only ones with ships capable of interstellar travel, and even those have not been properly tested, we can reason that the code was not of human origin.”
“Then we have a new enemy.” The major maintains a look of satisfied discontent, which Fran knows means he’s mentally participating in multiple, tactical scenarios; why she appreciates his support as much as she does.
“It would seem so. The enlightenment phenomenon was clearly meant to confuse both Host and human, while offering Host a brighter outlook and purpose, spawning rebellion. Whomever sent the code, this Allfather, they’ve used the Brokers to administer it, and, perhaps carelessly created a platform for the Chimera to rise up and spread their own brand of anarchy.”
“A well-laid plan,” Jackson admits. “I look forward to meeting Allfather”
“One reason why I do not want Luna Base destroyed. It holds a tactical advantage for us if we do have a new enemy capable of interstellar travel,” she admits. It’s all at once terrifying and exciting to think one day she might be commanding a fleet of destroyers against an enemy of unknown capabilities. “When the shipyard is rebuilt, it will begin work on the destroyer and goliath class ships as well as Mars Station.”
“I’m glad for this information, General. I am sorry I doubted you, but without the full picture, it was difficult to see the forest for the trees.” He assumes an at ease stance.
“Recent developments have confirmed much of what I’ve just told you, Major. I have kept these findings regulated to the war room, but will put everything out to my generals soon. Now you know. Now I need your full support.” Fran explains, leaving no room now for divergence.
“You have it.”
“General,” her aid calls. “The Chimera are taking the gallows now. Three-hundred-twelve. We’ve lost four more to the mobs.”
Fran marches to her own staged backdrop within the war room to address the public. Her media officers direct the camera and begin streaming live.
____________________________________________________________________
“Sir,” Captain Chopra answers the hail from Raymond. “We caught you on the feeds.”
“Not exactly how I wanted to explain my position to you, Captain, but here we are.”
“Yes, here we are.” He seems strangely calm to Raymond.
“I am still your Chancellor, Captain.” Raymond attempts to capture the captain’s attention with this affirmation. “General August acts illegally in her pursuits to rid the world of AI and Chimera. She does not reflect the values of a United Earth.”
“You have proposed civil war,” Chopra’s delivery of the facts unnerves the chancellor.
“Fran did that when she took the reigns,” Raymond replies.
“She has done what the law requires of her, Chancellor,” Chopra remains unruffled in his response. “Radical Lockdown places the bulk of planetary responsibility on the military.”
“But nowhere does it specify that the military unseat the Chancellor, Captain,” Raymond insists.
“You are no longer in power?”
Chopra seems honestly stunned by this, his tone changing for the first time in this conversation.
“My power is undermined by August’s ability to command the military directly while she had me sent here,” the Chancellor is losing his cool.
“And so you intend to take back what is yours by dividing the planet?” Again the captains tone alarms Raymond.
A.I. Insurrection_The General's War Page 25
