Engines of Empire

by Max Carver

  The hub was the ideal place to get lost in a crowd, or to emerge from one.

  “We can reach the hub in a couple of minutes,” Dinnius said. “You can catch a public car from there.”

  “I guess I could head to our country house. Get out of the city, lie low.” Audrey frowned. “But it's guarded by Security Steves. All our family's homes are. There's nowhere safe for me to go.”

  “Welcome to my life,” Zola said.

  “Head for the police station,” Salvius said. “City headquarters, not one of the automated precincts. If the Clowns hack-attack you there, there will be lots of humans with access to heavy weaponry.”

  “And lots of Officer Joes,” Audrey said.

  “I'm not sure they can remote-hack an Officer Joe,” Dinnius said. “It looked like they had to rip that one's head open and monkey with its CPU.”

  “But they can just take over a whole squad of Security Steves?” Audrey said. “That doesn't completely add up.”

  “Regardless, you need to demand human security from now on,” Salvius said. “Don't trust any machine, Audrey. Not even Nin—”

  “I got it,” Audrey said. She felt her heart fall as they approached the massive tower of the transportation hub.

  She was going back to her life, but it wasn't going to be the same life. Her world had been upended. She would never truly feel safe again, not around the machines. Even Nin could be hacked or used to spy on her, either by the authorities or by the hackers. The machines were dangerous because the humans behind them were dangerous.

  She moved close to her brother and put an arm around his shoulder. Salvius tensed up, as though expecting an attack, then allowed the half embrace. He even returned it, so one arm was around Audrey, the other held in Zola's lap.

  “When will I see you again?” Audrey said.

  “I don't know,” Salvius said. “I don't even know where I'll be tomorrow. But it won't be forever, because things will change. The Change is coming, and it will be bigger than anyone thinks. You can decide whether you want to be part of it or stand against it.”

  “But what does The Change want?” Audrey said. “Other than to paint graffiti all over public cars?”

  “For all humans, of all worlds, to be free of the machines,” Salvius said. “Because they are enslaving us. Some of us slowly, so we don't see it. Others already know, on all the defeated worlds out there. Some of us live in ruins, in caves of broken concrete and steel, feeding on ashes. Others live in padded cells full of toys and food. That's what Carthaginians are becoming. The captive pets of the machines. The Simons are designed to rule over humans, Audrey. Including those of our planet, to keep the existing elite in power forever. People like Father. Like you.”

  Audrey thought of her father and his gilded beard, and all the politicians in their fancy wigs, designer outfits, and elaborate makeup, impatient with the Simon's briefing on the management of their empire. They were eager to just get themselves out in the media again, vying for fans and followers among the voting public. Even the military leadership was just a costume pageant now, awarding each other commendations for feats accomplished by autonomous machines on distant worlds.

  “Maybe I'm less like him than you think,” Audrey finally said.

  “Prove it with your actions,” Salvius said. “Until then, it's time to find your way home.”

  Audrey sighed as they approached a crowded outdoor curb at the transportation hub, with people hurrying in and out of cars as far as the eye could see.

  She stepped out into the thick crowd.

  When she looked back, the ambulance-turned-plumber truck had already vanished into traffic, probably transformed into something she couldn't even identify.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Galapagos

  Ellison tried to stretch out their bizarre visit with Premier Uly Cross as long as possible, hoping to get all civilians off the spaceport before he had to confront Simon Zorn with what he'd found.

  Unfortunately, it did not last long.

  Simon rose to his feet abruptly from the padded cushion, staring at Ellison. “Why are you evacuating the spaceport?”

  “We're just letting a few special cases depart,” Ellison said. “People and ships cleared by security. I offered to let you go, too, Mr. Ambassador. That offer still stands, of course.”

  “I suppose you would like it very much if I left, wouldn't you?” Simon asked. “Enough to pull this charade with the bombs?”

  “It's not a charade,” Ellison said. “At least not on our end. Like I said, we're just humble fishing folks here on this planet. These elaborate machinations, with mysterious explosions where people who might get killed are considered incidental... well, those sound more Carthaginian in origin, if you ask me. It's what you people do all day, every day. The planets you bomb, the cities you lay to waste. It's all a game to you. A game you can't even enjoy, because you're just a machine, carrying out instructions.”

  “Let's try and keep it peaceful,” Cross said. “Let's all keep aspiring to the Higher Light.”

  “The Premier has a point,” Ogden said. “Ha! Never thought I'd hear myself say that. But I never thought I'd be drinking tea and watching his lovely wives dance.” He toasted one of the silk-wrapped women dancing her serpentine way closer to him.

  “The Minister-General seems to be accusing Carthage of plotting today's terrorist action,” Simon said. “A serious charge to put forward without evidence.”

  “So you deny that you or your machines were behind this?” Ellison asked.

  “Of course. Absolutely. Do you continue to deny that you have ordered a general evacuation of this spaceport? Because I have heard this several times now.”

  “How? Through your robots? Or did you illegally hack into our information systems?” Ellison asked.

  “The medical center is in a flurry over it,” Simon said.

  “You were supposed to recall the two reapers you have down there,” Ellison said.

  “Was I?” Simon asked, and a flicker of what seemed like amusement passed over the android's face. The android couldn't actually be feeling anything, Ellison thought; it was going out of its way to annoy him. “Surely you would not let everyone go unless you believed you had caught the bomber.”

  Ellison held out his pocket screen and turned on the projector. A blank white sphere floated above the screen for a moment, and then the security video footage played. One of the robotic infantry, in its gold and white honor guard uniform, stood in the storage corridor, planting the small device that would blast through the wall into the hotel room beyond. The interior wall between corridor and hotel room was only wood and drywall, not a steel bulkhead.

  “This is war,” Kartokov growled, getting to his feet.

  “Perhaps,” Coraline said, standing along with everyone else and taking a closer look at the video,

  “I thought they said a virus had destroyed this data,” Simon said.

  “They recovered some,” Ellison said. “As you can see. That's clearly one of your robots. See how its big peacock plume bounces as it installs the bomb that almost killed my sons? Has to be yours.”

  The clip ended after four seconds.

  “That's evidence enough for me,” Kartokov said, reaching for his laser pistol.

  “Can you zoom in?” Simon asked.

  Ellison replayed it, paused, and zoomed while watching the android's reaction closely.

  “That's unit R-KK1418991,” Simon said, as though this information would be meaningful to anyone but himself.

  “So you admit you and your machines were behind the bombing?” Ellison asked. His hand rested on his belt, casually close to his pistol. “You didn't like how our first meeting went, so you moved on to new plans? Was he involved?” Ellison pointed at Cross.

  “I don't buy this 'the Premier of the Iron Hammers suddenly wants peace and harmony' story,” Kartokov grumbled.

  “But I do want those things for our people,” Cross said. “I have explained. My s
oul has been touched by the hand of the divine—”

  “Your throat will be crushed by my hand if you lie to us, Cross,” Kartokov said.

  “Our experiences during the war make us distrustful of the Iron Hammers,” Coraline said to Simon. “They often broke treaties and betrayed allies. Including my people.”

  “Serves you for allying with them,” Kartokov grumbled.

  “Mr. Ambassador,” Ellison said. “If you were not here as a diplomat, I would have you arrested. As it is, I must insist that you and your honor guard return to your shuttle and depart our port and star system. Immediately.”

  Simon looked at him for a long moment.

  Ellison's heart pounded as his words hung in the air.

  “Let's have a look at this infantry unit,” Simon finally said. “That may shed some light on the malfunction.”

  “This was no malfunction. Someone put a lot of thought into this,” Ellison said.

  They left the captain's quarters and returned to the cafeteria, where six of the robotic infantry stood unmoving, frozen at attention.

  The six Coalition guards in ocean blue stood nearby, led by a young, nervous-looking team leader who was trying to keep watch on the dangerous machines as well as the rough crowd of Iron Hammers. The mood was more subdued than when Ellison had first passed through, as though even the violent polar pirates were quieted by the presence of a half-dozen killer machines with their skull-like steel faces, standing silently at the center of the room like the risen dead.

  General Prazca and the men around him watched Cross carefully. Cross waved and nodded at them. Prazca shook his head and downed a shot of clear liquor. He swayed in his chair, looking very inebriated, possibly spoiling for a fight.

  “Which is the one from the video?” Ellison asked Simon, while looking over the six nearly identical robots.

  “Interesting,” Simon said. “It seems R-KK1418991 is one of machines posted in the medical center with your family.”

  Fear and anger warred inside Ellison, but he kept it under the surface. Keep it calm on the surface, his former commander Dick Haverford had always said. Don't let the enemy see a ripple. Stay deep and quiet until you're ready to strike. He'd been talking about the endless cat-and-mouse of naval warfare on Galapagos, spanning from the ocean surface down into the kilometers-deep network of trenches, the underwater highways of the war. He could just as well have been talking about himself, though; Haverford had always kept a stoic surface under pressure, even when the literal pressure of the ocean was crushing the walls of their hastily manufactured submarine and water had leaked in from every side.

  We survived that, and we'll survive this, Ellison thought. “Does that robot have any more explosive material with it?” he asked Simon.

  “None of which I am aware,” Simon said. “I am still not convinced of the authenticity of your video proof.”

  “Recall those machines from the medical center,” Ellison said, yet again.

  “Are you sure you wish to leave your family unsecured?” Simon asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “If this is your wish.”

  Ellison took out his pocket screen and called his older son. Djalu answered immediately.

  “Dad?” he said. “What's happening? Everybody's running around, yelling—”

  “Is your mother awake?”

  “No. And Jiemba's freaking out—”

  “You hold it together for your brother,” Ellison said.

  “I am. But who blew us up? And why—”

  “I'll explain later. Have you seen two of the Carthaginian robots posted near you?”

  “Yeah, right outside the room.”

  “Have they left?”

  “It looks like... no... ” Djalu replied.

  Ellison looked at Simon. “Why not?”

  “Because they're still there,” Djalu said over the screen in a sarcastic teen voice. Ellison muted their connection, still staring at Simon.

  “R-KK1418991 is not responding,” Simon said. “So I have instructed R-KK1893348 to keep watch on it.”

  “Rogue robot?” Ellison asked. He didn't really believe Simon's story, but he was going to capture the machine that had planted the bombs, especially if it was posted near his wife. He gestured to the security team leader, who nodded and ordered the other Coalition guards to follow him. Ellison, Simon, and the Coalition ministers and guards filed back into the wrecked residential corridor, toward the elevator lounge beyond. Ellison was glad to get his people out of there.

  “I am coming as well,” intoned Premier Cross, stroking his glossy black beard. “We shall illuminate this situation with the Higher Light.”

  “A drink!” bellowed General Prazca, who swayed to his feet, pushing one of the servant girls aside. He raised a half-empty bottle of whatever clear fluid he'd been guzzling and sloshed it around. “To the Higher Light! More like the higher brain of our spoiled, soft-skinned premier, taking foreign drugs from foreign women and calling that God. What a fool.”

  “You dare!” Cross turned and stalked toward the drunken general. Other men rose around Prazca, military officers. They seemed to be standing with Prazca, not against him, their hard eyes staring down Cross as he approached in his swishing robes and his necklace of seashells, none of which matched the clothing worn by the other Iron Hammers.

  Ellison had a sinking feeling.

  “I cast you out, Gorron Prazca, and strip you of your rank!” Cross said. “For your blasphemy. For your—”

  “My treachery?” Prazca asked, and suddenly he wasn't drunk at all, not swaying a bit, as though the clear liquid sloshing in his bottle were only water. He slammed the bottle down on the table hard enough to crack it, and the liquid dribbled out as he approached Cross.

  “Is that what this is?” Cross asked. “Treachery?”

  “We will not be led by a fool any longer,” Prazca said.

  “Arrest him!” Cross turned, looking at a row of burly men in brown uniforms marked by stylized hammers made of bone. Those were the Crosshammers, long the elite personal guard of the Polar Premier, a post that had always been occupied Uly himself or one of his ancestors..

  But the Crosshammers remained seated, quietly watching, as though attending a tennis match.

  “I challenge you, Ulysses Cross,” Prazca said. “Under the old law.”

  “This is absurd,” Cross said. “I have abolished the old law under guidance from the Higher Light—”

  Prazca seized Cross by the front of his robe. He pounded his fist into the man's face, again and again, then hurled him to the ground.

  “Do you submit?” Prazca said.

  “I would never submit to you, brute.” Cross pushed himself up to his hands and knees, blood leaking from his nose and mouth.

  “Good.” Prazca kicked Cross in the side of the head, sending him sprawling.

  Ellison, standing in the corridor outside the room with his ministers and guards, kept one hand on the butt of his laser pistol as he watched the fight unfold. He glanced at Simon, but the ambassador android's face was blank and impassive, as usual.

  One of the silk-wrapped women on the dais cried out and tried to leap toward Cross, but the other women held her back. Ellison wondered if they were all his wives or if some were servants. The two who had poured tea and danced were now back with the other women; the one with the big green fish eyes wrung her hands as she watched.

  “The Higher Light will protect me,” Cross gasped, getting to his feet again. He rubbed his mouth, then spat a bloody tooth onto the floor. He raised his empty hands, spreading his fingers wide as Prazca stomped toward him. “I invoke the eternal divinity, fill me with power, unleash your wrath on this unworthy challenger—”

  Prazca seized Cross's head in both his gorilla-sized hands. Ellison remembered a rumor he'd heard, that Iron Hammers started taking steroids around age twelve and never stopped. That seemed plausible in Prazca's case; the man was massive.

  With a quick, hard twist, Prazca
snapped Cross's neck, then released him. Cross dropped to the floor, a shocked look on his face.

  A loud cry went up from the woman who'd tried to leap from the dais. The other women on the dais drew knives and handguns from under their silks.

  They were too late, though. Prazca's men had drawn their own guns, a combination of laser and projectile weapons. A barrage of hot lead and scorching blue blasts cut down the women in seconds, leaving a pile of blood-soaked, silk-wrapped bodies on the dais. Coraline let out a gasp when the fish-eyed Aquatican woman was gunned down.

  Three of Prazca's men dashed into the corridor to the captain's quarters. Shots rang out from that direction; a few other members of the Premier's household must have been back there to execute.

  Ellison gestured at his guards, and they readied their laser rifles. He had no intention of charging in there and getting his people killed, but clearly this coup had been carefully planned, and Ellison couldn't be sure what the plans entailed.

  “The reign of fools has ended,” Prazca announced. “The traditional values of the Iron Hammers have been restored.”

  Those in the room applauded, stomped, howled, and drank in response.

  Simon, unperturbed as ever, stepped into the hazy, smoky room, without even a glance at Cross's body on the floor or the bloodbath on the dais. He held out a hand toward Prazca, even as Prazca's loyalists turned their weapons on Simon. Prazca gestured for them to lower their guns.

  “Carthage is pleased to recognize Gorron Prazca, the new Premier of the Polar Archipelago of planet Galapagos,” Simon said. “We hope for a friendly and mutually beneficial relationship with your new administration.”

  “We welcome Carthage's friendship,” Prazca said, shaking Simon's hand over the still-warm corpse of the former Premier.

  Both of them turned to Ellison, as if to gauge his reaction.

  “I didn't know we'd be witnessing a Polar Archipelago election today,” Ellison said, with a casual joking tone meant to obscure the surprise and fear he felt. He was ready to fight the Hammers if they turned on him next, but they outnumbered his guards by about three to one and were probably all more experienced than the green soldiers with Ellison. “Make sure you clean up before you check out, or you'll lose your deposit.”