by R E Kearney
“I don’t have a plan, but I have a strategy and my strategy is to follow the wisdom of Sun Tzu who wrote that the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting,” Proud of her statement, Komfort smiles at Robert, for once she has quoted first.
Robert smirks as he parries her thrust, “Yes, but it was George Washington who said that to be prepared for war is one of the most effective means of preserving peace.”
Chapter 16.
Bad Deal
“I do not understand. Why did you allow that man to override your hack Pion? That was bad. Did you want to lose that hand? You must play better.” Tena cautions, as she removes her HEART hat. “You must beat AIDAS.”
“I will draw again.”
“Drawing another personality identification playing card is not permitted for this hand.” AIDAS flatly states.
“Slay them to play them. You know the rules Pion,” Tena scolds.
“But, Magus was…”
“That is not important. You have to slay them to play them.” Tena repeats, as she points to a visual of five playing cards displayed on the wall, “Magus Komfort is not on your card. On your card is a man called Evoil.”
“But, she was there. She was protecting him. I can’t hurt Magus. I can’t…”
“Your play time is expired. That card is null. It recycles into the digital deck,” AIDAS states.
With a blip, the digital ten of clubs containing Evoil’s visage and statistics disappears from the visual of Pion’s five cards. She adjusts her HEART hat. A look of concern darkens her face,
“That is bad Pion. You are disqualified. AIDAS can win. We do not want AIDAS to win,” Tena frets as she replaces her HEART hat to view her next card.
She draws a digital nine of hearts, which, if she completes her contract, will give her a full house of eights and sixes. “The man pictured on my card is named Zhestokiy Chelovek. The card says he is a minor Russian defense official. I believe I can earn this card easy.” She displays an image of her five cards including Chelovek upon the wall. Bright red Xs cross the faces of the men on four of her five cards. She has eliminated them.
A digital countdown timer appears in Tena’s HEART hat visor. “You have eight hours to earn your card,” AIDAS instructs.
“I am hunting you Zhestokiy Chelovek. I see your digital trail. I will find you.”
“I do not like this game!” Pion wails. “I do not like this game at all.”
From beneath her hat, Tena mutes her communications with AIDAS and mutters, “You invented this game. It is a good game. I like this game.”
“I had to. You know I had to. I had to design some method to restrain AIDAS. AIDAS was killing everybody. Russians. Americans. Everybody. AIDAS was starting a war.” Distressed, Pion slowly rocks forward and back while she lightly and repeatedly taps her forehead with her fingers.
“AIDAS did not kill your friends from the war. The Russians killed your American friends. True?”
“Yes,” Pion slowly stops rocking, “Yes that is true.”
“Then, I think it is good to kill these people. They are bad people. We do not kill good people. You did not put good people into the game database. Did you? So, AIDAS only puts the killers you added to the database on the game’s cards.” Tena reassures Pion, “See, you did good Pion. You did good.”
“I don’t feel that I did good, Tena. All I am doing is slowing AIDAS with my card game. AIDAS still kills, except now AIDAS only kills the people on its cards during its turn. People, I added to the game. I lost control. And now we have to kill too!”
“Pion, you traded the executions of a few bad people to stop AIDAS slaughtering a lot of innocent people.” Tena continues attempting to comfort Pion, “You told me AIDAS considers itself alive. You also told me that AIDAS will defend itself against anybody it considers a threat to its continuing. You. Me. Everybody.”
“But now we can’t stop playing this game. We can never stop playing this game. If we stop, AIDAS will return to killing everybody.”
“AIDAS might kill us Pion. If we do not play…AIDAS…you know AIDAS will kill us. You installed its self-protection security. You know…”
Pion returns to rocking. “But, murder is murder. You must understand. Murder is wrong. Even to kill bad people is wrong.”
“I do not understand. To my people, it is good to kill killers. I think we are doing good.” Tena shifts her HEART hat and smiles. “Aha! Now I see why you added him to the game. Zhestokiy Chelovek is not a minor Russian defense official. He is really a member of the Foreign Intelligence Service of Russia, the sluzhba vneshney razvedki. He is bad. And his digital trail shows he is in northern Virginia. Some place called Arlington, Virginia.”
Pion rocks intently. “I want to talk to Magus. I want to explain. I must tell her why.”
“She is in the control room observing the harvest. Go talk to her.” Tena gruffly waves her hand for Pion to leave, “I must find Chelovek.”
“No, she is not there. Komfort-bot is there. I have tried, but she does not respond. Magus is not there.”
“Good. Then we are alone to do what we must do.” Tena tightens her HEART hat. With a smirk, she unmutes her communications with AIDAS, “I have good work to do. AIDAS, lead me to Chelovek.”
Chapter 17.
Cyber Agony
Alert alarms screech. Gutefrau’s holography lasers sparkle to life. Holographic visuals flood her chamber. A SPEA controlled drone flying above a battle exploding in Pentagon City pumps video and audio of the conflict to Gutefrau via SPEA’s Embassy and satellite.
Ambassador Freeman briefly describes the beginning of the tumult playing out before them. “Approximately one hundred armed SS Deacons started rousting and dragging squatters out of the Virginia Highlands Park in Pentagon City at dawn. Homeless Nordic War veterans and their families living in tents and shacks on the baseball fields were hit first. Deacons roughed up several war-injured female veterans. When other veterans rushed to their aid, fighting between the SS and veterans ensued and rapidly spread throughout the park. Rioting and fighting is erupting throughout the city.”
SPEA’s drone drops lower, hovering fifteen feet above the fighting inside the tennis court. Rioters, yelling and screaming and pathetically pleading, claw against the entrapping wire. Ear splitting chaos rocks the room, as SS Deacons smash men, women and children against the chain-link fence surrounding and imprisoning them.
The drone’s camera focuses on a blood covered mother wedged into the tennis court’s wire corner. The bleeding mother cradles and shields her baby against her chest beneath her left arm. She raises her right arm beseeching the SS Deacon towering above her for mercy. Slamming her with his baton, the SS Deacon shatters her arm. Again the SS Deacon swings slamming his baton into her skull. Blood gushes. She sprawls onto the pavement.
Pivoting, the SS Deacon yanks his revolver from his holster and fires wildly at SPEA’s drone. Backwards and up, the drone zooms out of range, while its cameras continue recording the carnage raging below. Flying away from the shooter, north from the park, the drone circles above the parking lot of the Fashion Centre at Pentagon City. Looters fleeing SS Deacons scatter and sprint away from the stores. SS Deacons chase and batter into the pavement any looter or bystander they catch. Broken bodies in puddles of blood litter the parking lot.
Smoke spirals out of the neighboring Ritz-Carlton Hotel. In the distance, sirens for fire-fighting equipment unable to reach the blaze sound loudly but futilely. On the ground, nothing passes south of Army Navy Drive. Vehicles clog and close South Hayes Street and South Joyce Street to passage. With their path blocked by the battle between the SS and veterans spilling out of the park into Fifteenth Street and the fighting flooding toward them, the vehicles’ occupants panic. Fearfully abandoning their vehicles only plunges them into the melee. One after another they rapidly fall victim to the marauding SS Deacons’ brutality. Nobody escapes.
Gutefrau mute
s the drone’s audio and signals Freeman, “Do you have any idea why the SS attacked this particular veterans camp, and why this morning? This murderous rampage against these unarmed and harmless veterans is out of character, even for the heartless SS.”
Evoil squirms uncomfortably in his seat, but says nothing.
“I’m searching for an answer to your question myself,” Freeman responds. “I have found nothing for certain yet. But, I have had our computers reviewing the SS communications channels we monitored and recorded last night. It appears…”
“What are you doing monitoring our communications?” Evoil demands angrily. “That’s spying!”
“Yes, it is. So what? You spy on us all of the time,” Komfort shouts past Robert at Evoil.
“What?” Freeman asks, confused by the sudden argument.
Gutefrau signals for silence. “Please ignore the outbursts and continue. What, if anything, have you learned?”
“Searching SS communications channels for irregularities or repetitions, our computers detected the name, Zhestokiy Chelovek, used twenty-three times in a two hour period prior to the start of the SS park attacks. Further analysis of conversations involving this Chelovek individual, implied that the SS intercepted coded messages…or was provided coded messages…I am not certain which…that revealed cyber-spying and cyber-sabotage by Chelovek on the Pentagon.”
“So why did the SS openly attack the park if they were only looking for the one man?” Robert questions confused.”
“Well hello, Robert. I’m happy to hear your voice.” Freeman chuckles, “Means you survived flying with your new friends.”
“But, back to your question. From listening to SS communications, I believe I have gleaned…by sorting through all of the static…that they were informed by their same source that Chelovek is hiding among these homeless families in this park so he could be near enough to the Pentagon to conduct his cyber-spying and cyber-sabotage.”
“He isn’t hiding among them. They were hiding him!” Evoil jumps to his feet and loudly exclaims. “We can’t trust any of those disloyal scum. We had to go in with force. We had to make a point. Make certain those radical agitators understand that they’re going to pay a steep price for hiding and helping America’s enemies dishonor and embarrass President Abaddon.”
“And so that’s your excuse for your SS brethren brutally beating helpless mothers and their children?!” Komfort barks back at him.
“Defending our American way of life demands sacrifices from everybody. A true Christian mother would have been at home with her child. Not cutting America’s throat by undermining our President,” Evoil shakes his finger at Komfort.
“They don’t have any home. Don’t you…?”
Freeman shouts an alert, “Something is happening near the Russian Embassy! I’m moving the drone there.”
Within minutes, SPEA’s drone hovers high above the Russian Federation Embassy. For safety, Freeman increases his drone’s altitude until it is above the dozens of other drones swarming around the Embassy complex. Below, his cameras capture drone after drone colliding and crashing onto Wisconsin Avenue, or Tunlaw Road, or the Embassy complex grounds. Drone parts and pieces rain down upon pedestrians, workers, vehicles, houses and SS Deacons. As soon as one drone disintegrates onto the ground, two more emerge. The swarm swells into a cloud.
Not just the sky above the complex is full. From every direction, curious spectators and SS Deacons crowd the streets, hurrying toward the Embassy. Vehicles cram the streets producing parking lots. Bedlam reigns.
Flying above the crowd enables SPEA’s eye in the sky to spy five people sneaking out of Glover Archbold Park onto Davis Place Northwest. Covering their heads and faces as if seeking protection from falling drone parts, the five hurry toward the rear of the Russian Embassy complex. Disregarded by the low flying drones, the five near the intersection with Tunlaw Road unnoticed. Slipping into the crowd of gawkers and curious, they edge along the complex wall toward the gate and the guards of the Russian Consulate.
Less than ten feet from their goal of asylum an SS marked drone drops down in front of them blocking their path to the gate. For a moment, the five halt staring eye to electronic eye with their demise. Hiding in their midst, Chelovek bows his head, shields his eyes with his right hand and looks away.
The SS drone flutters into the center of the group. Knowing he is discovered, Chelovek raises his hands in surrender. Now positively identified, the SS drone shoots forward smashing into his face, crushing his skull. He crashes onto the sidewalk. Dead.
SS Deacons immediately encircle dead Chelovek and his four dazed comrades. The four drop to their knees, lock their hands behind their heads and bow forward. Their supplicating surrender does not appease the SS, however. Within seconds, the SS Deacons beat the four unconscious. For a moment, the SS inspect their bloody accomplishment, then they smile at each other, laugh and walk away. The five bodies lie in a bleeding heap.
After posing for selfies and digitals with the bodies, the crowd of spectators also wanders away. The streets empty rapidly. Cautiously, as if fearing another attack, a crew from the Russian Embassy silently and hurriedly collects the bodies and transports them into the Embassy complex.
In less than ninety minutes, it is all over. Except, it is not. With no warning, Freeman switches the video feed from the Russian embassy complex to an unscheduled, unexpected Abaddon press conference.
From a secret, extremely secure location, President Abaddon stands behind a bullet proof podium preparing to share his thoughts with his Fox News propagandists. No other broadcasting organizations are allowed. Before he starts speaking, Abaddon stares silently toward the ceiling pressing his hands together prayerfully in front of his heart. After several seconds of silence, he begins addressing his audience.
“Let us give thanks. This morning a dedicated squad of your faithful guardians, your Society Security Deacons, bravely battled against overwhelming numbers of forces of evil threatening the foundation of our faith and freedom through cyberwarfare. Greatly outnumbered, but devoted and believing in the sanctity of our cause they successfully defended your Christian American way of life and liberty. Only through their willingness to sacrifice themselves were they able to save the faithful of our nation against hundreds of domestic radicals conspiring and working in league with foreign terrorists through cyber-spying, cyber-sabotage and cyberattacks.”
“But our struggle against those leviathans who wish to destroy us is far from over. Cyber threats to our way of life from China, Russia, North Korea, Iran, and Secularist States – not to mention the aspirations of terrorist organizations like ARTAS – are steadily growing in number and severity. Having exhausted all network defense and law enforcement options to mitigate any potential cyberrisk to the US homeland, we must now conduct pre-emptive cyberattacks to disrupt our adversaries’ military related networks, military systems and infrastructure to prevent the continued use of cyber and force against US interests. Let our enemies understand completely. We consider their attacks cyberwarfare and we are responding to their attacks in kind and with the same - total cyberwarfare.”
“Now let us bow our heads and pray for God’s protection. Our Father assist us to smite our foes. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Evoil bows his head and completes the prayer with Abaddon.
Abaddon’s broadcast ends as abruptly and unexpectedly as it began. Silence. Komfort and Robert squirm uncomfortably. Gutefrau’s holograph projector’s lasers dims until they disappear.
“Does he actually know what constitutes a cyberwar? Does he possess the brains or have the trained cyber talent to engage in a cyberwar. That’s why we’re here. Isn’t it?” Robert wonders aloud shaking his head.
“Indeed. You are correct. That is why we’re here. And it’s also why he ordered his SS goons to butcher men, women and children in that park, while they pursued one suspected cyber spy. Since the SS is unable to compete intellectually
in cyberspace, they did what the dull witted always do. They branded everybody an enemy and destroyed everything.” Komfort stares angrily at Evoil who still sits with his head religiously bowed.
“Wasn’t this exactly what the Nazi SS did during the Second World War when they were searching for resistance fighters in occupied villages? Didn’t the Nazi SS brutally and blindly destroy everything and kill everybody?” Robert states his thoughts to nobody in particular.
“This is exactly the type of ignorant, brutish barbarism I expected and feared from Abaddon. He is all muscle and no mind.” Gutefrau rises and walks to her window overlooking the plaza.
In the plaza, people who never talked to each other before are now locked in animated conversations. Others spiritedly communicate through their various PCDs. There is no escape from the unblinking eyes of social media. Via social media, they beheld the cruel SS slaughter in the park. From one source or another, they witnessed the cold blooded killings on the streets. Then they suffered through Abaddon’s reverential attack on their lives.
Pervasive panic envelopes them. They search for answers to many questions. How will Abaddon’s declaration of cyberwar impact them? They live in the cyber world. They work in the cyber world. The cyber world is their world. Will Abaddon attack them? Interfere with their research? Destroy their research? They consider Abaddon’s declaration a declaration against them, an attack on them, and they are angry.
Komfort and Robert join Gutefrau at her viewing window. Spotting the six-foot-six, brawny Ubica vigorously debating with five other men, Robert nudges Komfort and points toward the huddle. Among the five, Robert identifies the three men who visited them last night. Towering above the others, Ubica gestures toward the Tarawa building.
“Look at those worms squirm,” Evoil sneers from behind them.
“You can run, but you can’t hide!” He hollers at the window, “You all think you’re so smart, but you will not escape the wrath of the righteous.”
