by M. R. Forbes
"Yeah, those things are nasty," Cormac said. "We stopped a bunch of them on our way here."
"Barely," Zed said. "Maybe the lull in the action is because we ruined their assault?"
"Mmmhmm. It could be," Drummond said.
They went into the Bennett building, crossing the damaged lobby to the emergency stairwell and heading down until it passed through a formerly secure door and emptied out into a small corridor next to a lift shaft. A placard hung in front of a second, larger door: "Angeles Waste Reclamation Point A."
They crossed the threshold, passing through a small suite of offices to the mechanics beyond, where massive waste storage drums sat below a lattice walkway, and a series of pipes fed out into secondary tunnels. There was a small spiral stair in the corner of the room that led down towards the tunnels.
"We've got people stashed all over the city," Drummond said. "But the bulk of us free humans are offshore. Mostly women who don't want to fight, or who have children. Lots of children without parents, too." He looked down, shaking his head. "Damn shame."
Children were too young to have neural implants. Mitchell tried not to think about what had happened to the rest of them. "Offshore?"
"Mmmhmm. Barges, Captain. That's how we got away. Unpowered, no heat signature. No tech. There are wave converters a few miles out, big flat stations. We powered them off when we got there, and stay off the decks as much as possible. The drones fly over a few times a day and we stay out of sight. The living conditions are pretty lousy, but at least we're alive and organizing."
"And free," Geren said. "We try to get the drop on soldiers when we can, to disable their p-rats. We freed almost a hundred last night."
"It was a good night," Salil said.
They moved into one of the tunnels. The pipes were arranged along the sides of the large, clean space, color-coded by use. It was an ironic contrast to the desolation of the city above them.
Drummond guided them through the tunnels, finally reaching another access point and leading them out onto the street. The soldiers took point ahead of them, sweeping the area before shouldering their weapons and relaxing.
"Where are we?" Mitchell asked. He knew by the lingering smell of the sea that they were much closer to the waterfront.
"About three blocks from Port Angeles. Half a mile from Bennett." Drummond pointed to the building they were walking towards, a plain block of steel, carbonate, and crete. "It was a maintenance station for the wave convertors."
They circled around to the side of the building, to a wide avenue with truck access in the rear. Another soldier was standing guard outside of it, and he waved at them as they approached.
"Doctor. Tio got your message." He looked over at Mitchell. "He's excited to meet you, Captain."
"Likewise," Mitchell said though he wasn't sure he meant it.
The access door slid open, and they ascended the ramp and went in. The first thing Mitchell noticed was the much stronger smell of salty air, and two of the massive convertors resting in maintenance clamps near the center of the large room.
The second thing he noticed was the group of people a dozen feet away, standing over what looked to be a map of the space between Angeles and York that they had spray-painted onto the floor.
The third thing he noticed was that he knew two of the people who were looking over the map.
One of them was David Avalon, the Prime Minister of Delta Quadrant.
The other was General Cornelius.
34
Mitchell froze. Neither man had noticed him yet. They were too concerned with the map on the floor. He stared at them both, a million thoughts racing through his head too fast for him to make sense of. He reached to his hip for a sidearm before remembering he didn't have one.
"Captain?" Drummond said.
His eyes fell on Shank and Cormac. They were both staring at Cornelius, and Shank had started bringing the Tactical up towards his shoulder.
Cornelius was dead. Killed by the Tetron on board his ship dozens of light years away. He couldn't be here, now. It wasn't possible. Not unless he was one of them.
"What are you doing?" he heard Geren say. She was watching Shank, moving towards him while he got the rifle into position.
He noticed her coming, bringing the weapon around and using it as a staff. It cracked into her head, knocking her backward, the sound echoing in the large room and drawing the assembly's attention.
"Shank," Mitchell snapped. "Stand down."
He didn't know what was happening either, but shooting Cornelius would only get them all killed.
Shank continued to aim the Tactical. Riley had gone to Geren's aid with Drummond while Adams and Salil pointed their rifles at the Rigger.
"Damn it, Colonel," Mitchell said. He lunged forward, getting his arms around Shank's wide shoulders. "I said stand down."
"Get off me, Mitch," Shank roared, trying to shake him loose. "He's frigging one of them. He's got to be."
It took all of Mitchell's strength to hold on. "That may or may not be true, but if you shoot him now they're going to kill us both. Second, I gave you an order, and you damn well better follow it."
"You don't outrank me, Mitch."
"No, but I can beat your ass."
Mitchell let go of Shank's shoulders, dropping behind him. The big man started raising the rifle again. Mitchell's boot came down on the back of his knee, buckling his leg and breaking his aim. Shank spun on a knee, swinging the rifle like a club again, but Mitchell was expecting it. He backed away from it before taking three quick steps in and kicking Shank hard in the jaw. The grunt spun around and fell flat. Adams shuffled over and put his rifle to his head before he could get up again.
"What the hell is going on here?" Cornelius shouted, approaching them. The Prime Minister followed close behind, along with two other men in military attire and a smaller, older man in a dark suit. "We don't have enough to worry about without fighting within the ranks?"
Then he saw Mitchell.
"Captain Mitchell Williams," Cornelius said, one eyebrow raising. "So, it's true that you're alive after all."
"General Cornelius," Mitchell said, bowing to him, before looking past him to the Prime Minister. He had stopped a few feet behind Cornelius and was looking at Mitchell with a mix of disbelief and anger.
"Is that your man?" the General asked, looking at Shank. "Let him up."
Adams backed away, and Shank pushed himself to his feet. He was breathing heavily, but he seemed more controlled.
"You?" Cornelius said. "I know you." He looked at Mitchell, and then back at the Prime Minister, as though he wasn't sure he wanted to say how. "Does that mean Admiral Narayan is alive?"
Shank didn't respond.
"Captain?" Cornelius said.
Mitchell was silent, unsure how to answer.
"I don't understand this, Captain. This one was ready to shoot me. This one is looking at me like I'm a ghost, and you're somewhere in between. Do you mind telling me why?"
Mitchell saw that Cormac was staring at the General, eyes wide and face pale.
"No offense, sir, but you're dead."
"What?"
"Dead," Cormac said. "You and your battlegroup. Killed by an alien when you tried to stop us from finding Goliath."
"I didn't stop you from finding Goliath. I don't know what you're talking about, soldier."
"He's telling the truth, sir," Mitchell said. "I was there. We learned the location of the Goliath, and when we got there you were there under Tetron control."
"Captain, I assure you. Whoever you encountered, wherever you were, it wasn't me."
"I can vouch for that," the Prime Minister said.
"So can I," Sergeant Geren said. "Captain, the General and the Prime Minister were both at the base when the Tetron arrived. I helped them get out."
"No. That can't be." Mitchell closed his eyes, thinking back. "The Admiral was sending you messages, and you were responding."
Cornelius had calmed, and h
e spoke softly. "Captain. That wasn't me."
Mitchell felt his heart pulsing, his mind racing. Not Cornelius? It made sense. Too much sense. They had always suspected that the Tetron arrival at Calypso was no coincidence, and now it was as close as it would ever get to proven. The Tetron had sent the Riggers to the station. They had set the trap, and only Millie's quick thinking had gotten them out of it.
If the Tetron had replaced the General, they could have replaced anyone. Especially anyone who was on Liberty when M was. He glanced over at Zed. What about Major Long and his crew? Could he be sure that they were the originals? Could he be sure they were really free? He looked back at Shank. What about the Riggers? Origin had warned him that the transport wasn't safe, and he knew the Tetron were capable of that kind of deception. It was a risk he had taken because he had to. He still had to. If his entire crew was compromised, if everyone around him was compromised, he had no choice but to wait and see how it all played out.
"Captain," the General said. "I returned directly to base after the gala. I was halfway there when I got a call from David about your indiscretion with his wife. I promised him I would launch an investigation immediately."
"And then you gave him my file, sir. The one you and the others at Command wanted buried so you could turn me into a hero."
"I didn't give him your file, Captain." Cornelius shifted to look at the Prime Minister. "I don't know how he got your file."
David cast his eyes downward, his face turning red. "There are other channels, Nathan. I know you. I know how you protect your own. This man raped my wife, and you're standing there explaining yourself to him?" He looked up at Mitchell, his eyes burning. "I was happy when you were found dead."
Mitchell returned the Prime Minister's glare. "I didn't rape your wife, sir. The Tetron were controlling her. They used her to get to me, to get you to come after me. If you're too stupid to see it-"
"Captain," Cornelius barked.
Mitchell stopped talking.
"You were found dead, Captain," Cornelius said. "The DNA was an exact match."
"A clone, General," Mitchell said. "The enemy can clone people. All they need is a history of your genetics, and they can make someone who looks exactly like you. If they have records of you: streams, files, anything, they can make someone who acts exactly like you too. Who knows as much as you know today, and more. Someone who knows what your prior future was."
"Prior future?" David asked. "What the hell are you going on about?"
"It doesn't matter right now. We have a ship, the Goliath. It has their technology. We can fight them, but not alone. We're here to stop them. One planet at a time if we have to. "
"And you started with Liberty?" Cornelius said.
"Liberty is the first planet they took. It also has the lightest defenses."
"If you have a ship, why didn't you blast them from orbit?" the Prime Minister asked.
"We can't," Mitchell said. "It'll pull all of the energy from the planet's core to fight back, and everyone will die."
The Prime Minister's face paled, his mouth hanging open. "You expect me to believe this?"
"I don't really give a shit what you believe, David," Mitchell said. He turned his attention to General Cornelius. "The Tetron aim to destroy all of human civilization, and we're the only ones who can stop it."
The General smiled. "Well, thank God for that. I'm glad you're here, Captain. We need every soldier we can get, and a pilot from Greylock is more than worth any past transgressions, falsified or otherwise. Not to mention, Millie's Riggers. I don't care what you've done, you're here now, and you're fighting back."
"Yes, sir," Cormac said.
Cornelius took a few steps back until he was even with the third man, who had stayed quiet during the entire altercation. He was a small, narrow man with the look of a Federation expatriate. He had golden skin, almond eyes, and a small, thin mustache. The suit he was wearing looked two sizes too big.
"I want you to meet Liun Tio. You might know him better as the Knife."
35
The Knife? Mitchell looked the man over. The Knife was one of the most renowned and elusive warlords based out of the edge worlds of the Rim. This man was unimpressive. And that was an understatement.
"You're the Knife?" Cormac said. "The guy responsible for half the piracy in the galaxy? The guy who stole the Rock right out from under the Federation's watch and turned it into what is possibly the best bloody brothel in the universe? The-"
The man put his hand up. "Yes," he said, his voice simple and calm. "I'm also in control of the largest anti-AI lobby in the universe."
He stared at Mitchell as he said it.
"In fact, I have spent most of my life warning anyone who will listen about the inherent dangers of creating machines that are capable of acting on their own. Warnings that got me cast out of Federation politics, and eventually found me exiled from their space."
"There have been people crying about the deadly potential of AI for centuries," Shank said.
"Yes, there have. So long and so loud that everyone stopped listening, even as the machines grew more complex, more capable of thinking on their own. It seemed so innocuous in the beginning, didn't it? For centuries, we have done everything we can to take the burden of living from ourselves. Machines to deliver goods. Machines to manage transportation. Machines to increase the rate of learning and discovery. Machines to build other machines.
"They were wrong about the date of the singularity. Very wrong. There was backlash even then, and we should be thankful for it. It slowed the progress, but it couldn't stop it. We have been teetering on the edge of catastrophe for years, Captain. Only my work and the work of others like me have kept AI from overcoming the final hurdle and leading to our eventual demise." He shook his head and pointed towards York. "Then that thing came."
"You couldn't have known they would arrive from a past future."
He laughed. "Past future? Is that it? I have wondered the origin of that thing. I had thought perhaps it was because of my brother." His face fell. "I had thought it was alone."
"What do you mean, your brother?" Mitchell asked.
"He is my opposite, in every way. He believes very strongly in artificial intelligence and has always been taken with the ideals of creating life from circuits and sentience from raw materials. He has always been obsessed with being God, instead of worshipping Him. He works for the Federation government, as the head of their Advanced Intelligence initiative. AI."
"To what end?"
"Weapons, of course."
"We already tried fully autonomous warfare," Cornelius said. "You know the outcome."
Tio nodded. "Yes. I was pleased with those results. No, not to use AI as weapons. To use AI to create weapons for us humans to kill one another. Machines whose sole purpose is to figure out the best way we can destroy ourselves."
"I can see why you thought it was him," Mitchell said. "How did you guess that the enemy was AI, and not an alien race? How did you even know it was here?"
"I was here, Captain. The politicians and power brokers that assembled for the gala in your honor were as useful to me as they were to the military. Of course, they didn't know who I really am. As for your other question, I never considered another alternative. Yes, I understand the supposed history of XENO-1. There has always been a minority belief that the entire thing was a fabrication and an excuse to start a war. That the technology was already in military development, and once the world had been unified, it was safe to share with the public."
Mitchell couldn't believe what he was hearing. Hundreds of thousands of people died in the Xeno War. Over a fabrication?
"I see you think I'm crazy," Tio said, smiling. "Consider if you will, Colonel, that in the centuries since the war humankind has spread thousands of light years from home. How many intelligent alien races have we made contact with?"
"None," Mitchell said softly.
"None. I am a firm believer in the XENO-1 coverup, and Fe
rmi's Paradox, and to this point all evidence has only supported my opinion. As I said, I initially believed that thing in York was a Federation weapon. Now you say 'past future?' Time travel." He lifted his hand and rubbed at his mustache, thinking about it. "Yes. It makes sense."
"You're pretty accepting of the idea."
"There are things in the universe we understand. Then there are the things we don't. I see something that doesn't fit into what is known, and I realize there must be a reason. Aliens are out of the question, and time travel is a more logical reason than magic." He followed the statement with a coughing laugh. "I will say, I may have been mistaken about the Xeno War. A crashed timeship does explain a few things."
"You really don't think there's other aliens out there?" Cormac asked. "No green chicks with extra tits? No sexy cat-women? Nothing?"
"Firedog," Shank said.
"What? I mean. I just thought. You know. It was always a dream of mine."
"I'm afraid not," Tio said. "You seem to know a lot about our enemy, Captain? Do you know how they originated?"
"No. I don't. From what we've been able to learn, they don't either. It's possible that your brother created the original version." A fact that Mitchell knew Origin would find very interesting. Not that he would tell him about it if they survived. Not yet.
"Yes, it is. Tell me, how does this time travel work? I am fascinated."
"Not now, Tio," Cornelius said. "Captain, Paul brought you here because you seem to know about the enemy, and we've been doing our damnedest to work out how it thinks. We've been working under the assumption that it is a machine and still following some measure of logic and reason. It was Tio who guessed that defeating the forces it had positioned here would lead to it abandoning the city."
"Based on calculations of military assets provided by the General, and statistical analysis of its tactics to this point," Tio said. "It has already removed a number of assets from the planet, suggesting that there is a front elsewhere and it seeks to reinforce it. Although, I had been assuming that it was a Federation weapon, and that the Federation would use the capability to attack the rest of the Alliance, and then the New Terrans."
