Ghosts of Tomorrow

by Michael R. Fletcher

  The 5THSUN chassis stopped. “You are defeated. I win.” It sounded less than happy with its victory. Strange.

  “Not quite. As long as you die, I win.” Archaeidae found himself staring up the barrel of a hyper-kinetic gauss gun.

  His opponent glanced at the wreckage of chassis littering the landing field. “Everyone dies,” the chassis said. “But you’re the one dying right here.”

  “I’m in Reno. But you’re fucked.”

  The recently departed Airbus A340, now under the guidance of 88.1.42.147.321.3417, returned in a mad descent.

  ***

  Canebrake finally heard and saw the diving plane and searched for cover. His opponent used his brief distraction for one last push of jump-assist jets and managed to get close enough to achieve a death grip on his chassis. Realizing he had failed, Canebrake prayed for a redemption he had come to doubt. There was no second life, no replaying this level. It was done.

  Uncle Riina, why have you forsaken me?

  He triggered the micro-nuke buried within his chassis as well as those within his friends, Red-Back, Boomslang, and Siafu.

  The micro-nukes leveled the airport terminals, caused nearby planes to explode, and were eclipsed when the A340 crashed to the earth carrying 204,500 liters of Avgas and 364 passengers.

  Juan Santamaria International Airport was a thing of the past.

  ***

  Archaeidae didn’t even want to think about his body count for the day. There must be hundreds dead, thousands of injuries, and thousands more would die of cancer-related complications in the years to come. He wasn’t proud. Uncle Riina always scolded him if his hits attracted too much media attention, and this one would be in the news for weeks.

  That last Scan had thought it had won, and yet sounded unhappy. Sad, even. Like victory wasn’t everything. That Scan’s friends had been littered about the airfield. Archaeidae thought back to how he had felt upon learning of SwampJack and Wandering Spider’s noble deaths. He’d been saddened, but proud. He always knew they’d come back, they always did.

  Where then is SwampJack?

  Deep down Archaeidae knew he was gone. He’d never again hear Swamp crow of his headshots or Spider chastising her best friend’s immature recklessness. Their deaths had been permanent.

  He thought about the hundreds of deaths he’d caused in the last few minutes. He’d told Jotei 88 to bring down a plane full of passengers as a casual Plan B. He hadn’t given it much thought, the plane was there and he needed it.

  Those people were gone. Dead. Forever.

  He thought back to the pitying disgust he’d seen on the faces of the NATU agent and his partner when he’d told them he was immortal. He was wrong, and they’d known it.

  Now is not the time for such thoughts. He needed to be pure. He needed to keep moving. There might be costs to his actions, but that didn’t change anything. Well...it didn’t change everything. He still had to make sure Jotei 88 was safe. He’d promised, and his promises were iron.

  Archaeidae jacked out of the NATUnet hub to the sound of alarms and panicked voices. The door he had barricaded was being shoved open. Someone on the far side tossed a flashbang grenade into the room which he caught and tossed back before slamming the door closed.

  With the distraction of the flashbang, maybe he could get out without killing everybody. Leave witnesses. On purpose. It was a strange thought.

  He felt the concussive detonation through the door.

  Humans. They could be such a pain in the ass.

  CHAPTER THIRTY: Sunday, August 6th, 2046

  Having rooted through Lokner’s lawyer’s files and deleted all traces of any file bearing his name or mention of M-Sof or 5THSUN, Miles sat with his feet up, staring out the window at Reno’s skyline. His desk beeped error messages but he ignored it.

  Where else would Lokner hide files? The man was smart, but not particularly inventive. He’d want to put it where Miles would never think to look. Where wouldn’t he search for files?

  Well, his own in-house data systems for one.

  Duh. Miles searched 5THSUN’s internal data systems. Sure enough, he found hidden folders with reams of files detailing his less than legal actions. There was a fair amount of stuff in there he hadn’t done too.

  The desk chirped for attention. An incoming call.

  “Yes?” He already knew who it was.

  “For fuck-sakes Miles, it’s one in the afternoon! Wake the fuck up. I’ve lost the NATUnet feed.”

  “Probably just a bad connection. With the satellites—”

  “No connection, no data. Nothing. Now fucking fix it.”

  Miles glanced at his desk, scanning the long list of errors and the backed-up data transmissions cached for future transfer. “Hold on a second,” he told Lokner, putting him on hold as he called Ruprecht downstairs.

  “So I guess you’ve finally noticed,” said Ruprecht when he answered.

  “You could have let me know.”

  “No point,” said Ruprecht. “Nothing you can do about it.”

  Miles understood. The Sys Admin code: If I can’t fix it, it isn’t my problem. Don’t waste my time.

  “Is it only 5THSUN this is happening to?” Miles asked.

  “Are you serious? Go look out your window.”

  Miles rose from behind the desk and walked to the window. The streets below were in chaos. Bankers fought over bike couriers and taxis, desperate to get their data moved by any means possible. Fists and ties flew. Miles watched as an expensive business suit knocked down a scraggly courier in combat fatigues and wrestled the bike away from her. Should he go down to see if she was okay? The suit stomped on the courier’s hand and mounted the bike. A bundle of hard-copy investment information tucked under one arm, he headed north toward the financial district.

  This is insane.

  Returning to his desk Miles collapsed into the chair. Surely he should be doing something. “Aren’t we supposed to be three meals away from chaos?” he said to Ruprecht.

  “Three days. Nine meals. For most of us. Maybe three meals for you.”

  “Thanks. So this the end of civilization.”

  “Probably. About what I expected. NATUnet has gone down. Rumor is it’s down all across NATU and into Central America.”

  “How’d the rumor spread if there’s no network?”

  “Good question,” said Ruprecht.

  “I have someone on hold. We’ll talk later. Let me know if the world ends.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Miles flicked back to Lokner. “Looks like NATUnet is down everywhere, Sir.”

  “Shit. How long is this going to take to fix?”

  Fix? How the hell could he fix this? “Uh, Sir, it’s kind of out of my hands. Nothing we can do but wait.”

  “Is this an attack? On me?”

  Miles heard the quiver of paranoia in his boss’ voice. It was unsettling to hear fear coming from this man. The original Lokner had always shown all the emotions of a rock. But that was a different man.

  “No, Sir,” said Miles. “It looks like all Reno is affected. Probably some hacker-clan snuck a virus into the NATU central systems and shut everything down. I’d guess it’ll all be back up and running within the hour. Probably less.”

  “Aw fuck,” Mark whined. “No data feed in here. What am I going to do?”

  “Play some crossword puzzles,” snapped Miles as he killed the call. He was amazed. Amazed he snapped at his boss, and equally amazed Lokner seemed to be acting like a spoiled pre-teen. Something was wrong with Lokner2.0. Maybe the copy process was, he thought sarcastically, a little less successful than the doctors claimed. This wasn’t the same man he used to work for.

  Miles stared at the data he’d discovered, a long litany of his criminal activities. He’d delete all this, but what if there was more? Something caught his eye and he sat up.

  Wait. I never purchased micro-nukes off the Mafia!

  “Oh shit.”

  He stood and glanced out th
e office window at the chaos below. A NATU military truck came to a tire-screeching halt in front of 5THSUN. A vicious looking chassis, obviously a military model, bounded from the back of the truck and disappeared into the ground floor lobby without pausing to open the massive plate-glass doors.

  “Oh shit!”

  A gray-haired man climbed from the front of the truck and hurried after the chassis, toting what looked like an assault rifle of some kind. Confused and unsure what to do, Miles called Ruprecht again.

  “What’s up, Miles?”

  “NATU just came through the front door. They look serious.”

  “Serious? Like waving subpoenas serious?”

  “No. Like fuck the subpoena, we have a combat chassis serious. Get out the back if you can, otherwise put your hands in the air, be polite, and co-operate with the nice authorities.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Miles glanced around the office, looking longingly at his SmartChair. His thoughts scattered like a flock of panicked chickens and achieved nothing useful. “I don’t know.”

  “Get the fuck out.” Ruprecht paused and Miles heard him gathering his belongings. “Call me from prison, bud.”

  Miles looked at his desk, thought about the deadman’s switch. Was it time? No. Ruprecht was right. Just get out.

  He heard the faint but unmistakable sound of gunfire from somewhere below.

  ***

  The truck hadn’t yet stopped when Griffin saw Abdul bounce past and crash straight through the plate glass doors of 5THSUN Assessments. The speed of the large chassis was terrifying. That something so large, so deadly, and so heavy could move so quickly triggered all manner of deep instinctual fears in Griffin. Abdul vanished from sight before the broken glass from the door hit ground. Griffin assumed the Scan knew something he didn’t and scrambled out of the truck, forgetting both the helmet and filter mask. The air tasted terrible as he charged up the steps, Tavor 41 in hand. He stopped in the lobby to spit out a thick wad of gritty black phlegm. The fingers of his right hand had turned a yellowish blue, and felt like someone was trying to cauterize them with a blowtorch. His guts clenched with tension and he breathed in short painful grunts.

  Tasteful and expensive, the lobby was the perfect portrait of the corporate mind. Thousands of kilograms of white and black marble in contrasting patterns with gleaming brass trim, all designed to say money lived here.

  The cold weight of the assault rifle felt reassuring but his hand kept shaking. Nadia’s voice flashed through his mind: “Safety’s still on.”

  Was that the last thing she said to him? He couldn’t remember. Adrenalin and fear jolted him to the present. The realization of his vulnerability in a fight involving combat chassis sunk in, and he froze. Eyes wide. Mouth open, breath coming in short hyperventilating pants. Gun up, he pointed at everything and nothing. Sweat trickled from his hair and he blinked furiously, eyes stinging. The street noise faded and all he heard was his own breathing.

  Blink away the sweat. Eyes twitched in search of threats and targets.

  The high-pitched scream of a hyperkinetic gauss gun startled him, and without a thought he charged towards the noise.

  Abdul might be in trouble.

  ***

  Trouble. It waited somewhere. Abdul had thought about it for the entire drive to 5THSUN. Griffin was right; if they did this the civil way, Lokner would get away. And with half a dozen state-of-the-art combat chassis piloted by brainwashed and insanely loyal children, there was slim chance of Griffin getting out alive. The moment their Master was in danger they would kill everything.

  He had to keep Griffin alive, no matter what the cost. Fuck the law. Surprise and speed were his best weapons. He scanned the ground floor with all the senses available to him. Nothing.

  There had to be at least one chassis on the ground floor, but Abdul detected nothing.

  Abdul moved, hitting the limit of what his chassis could do. Warnings flared bright across his vision as he redlined the chassis. His thoughts roared with the exhilaration of impossible speed and for this one instant he felt alive. All life was movement.

  He burst into a second lobby in the rear of the building where the elevators were. A gauss gun screamed a few thousand rounds of exploding flechettes, tore up the expensive marble and filled the air with shattered stone and dust. Few of them struck home, and Abdul ignored them. His targeting diagnostics traced both the arc of the flechettes and the sound of the weapon back to a point source.

  There was nothing there. This year’s tech. Maybe next year’s.

  God he was so royally fucked.

  Abdul sliced two 83mm High Explosive Anti-Armor rockets into the emptiness and was rewarded with a satisfying explosion. Dust and plaster rained from the ceiling in a thick white fog shredding his higher frequency senses. It was like watching an old black and white movie through a snow squall and the caustic glare of a carbon-arc strobe light. Infrared and radar gave him enough to know he’d walked into a trap.

  ***

  Androctonus and SawScale had been playing Assault on 5THSUN virtualities for days and were more than ready when NATUnet crashed. Though in all likelihood it had nothing to do with them or their Master, they were not going to take that risk. Androctonus was upset he wasn’t leading the other four chassis in Costa Rica on an exciting Strike Mission. He and SawScale were the only defense left. Barring paramilitary troops parachuting to the rooftop or cruising in on ultralight gliders, everyone had to come through the rear lobby to access either the elevators or stairs. It was the clear choice for an ambush site. When they heard the sound of shattering glass they pushed their chassis into Stealth Mode. Chameleoflage blended with their surroundings. Armor plates adjusted their angles and exuded a rubberized polymer. They were invisible to both radar and sonar. They locked down all vented heat, storing it internally to be released once combat commenced. Total silence. Not even tight-link.

  This was what they lived for.

  The NATU chassis exploded into the room far faster than a chassis of that design should be moving. Androctonus felt the entire universe hum like a vibroblade. All his life had built to this moment. Today he proved his worth. He would do Uncle Riina proud.

  The NATU chassis definitely expected trouble. It came to the right place.

  As planned, SawScale broke cover first, following it with a long stream of exploding flechettes, most of which missed. The invading chassis bounced off the far wall, changing direction in mid-flight with a burst of its jump-assist jets. Whoever was in there was no slouch and wore their chassis like skin.

  Good. Be a shame if this were too easy.

  The NATU chassis’ missiles streaked towards SawScale and he attempted to gun them down in mid-flight. He failed. Androctonus unleashed a strobing pulse from his Northrop Grumman High Energy Laser. The NATU chassis changed direction again and he lost the lock, but not before he’d caused massive structural damage to its entire right side. The HEL pulses ignited the dust and plaster in the air, drawing a neat line pointing to his position. His treads engaged and spun him away from his hiding spot before the enemy hammered it with missiles.

  Sawscale erupted with enough force to rock Androctonus in his treads. Some critical system must have been damaged.

  See you on the next level, brother, he tight-linked at the remains.

  Androctonus tracked the NATU chassis with a blistering hail of Smart micro-rockets, HEL pulses, and hyper-kinetic flechettes.

  ***

  Half of Abdul’s torso lit up with error messages. One of the Talley Defense Systems rocket tubes was damaged beyond use, and the other flashed a confused jumble of malfunction warnings and modified Chinese tech-lingo warranty information. Warranty Void, Gweilo.

  When he managed to target the second chassis, he wanted to cry out with relief. Its motive abilities were hampered by a tank-track designed to not damage expensive marble and carpeted floors.

  That relief died a fast and brutal death when Abdul launched a rocket and
the 5THSUN chassis gunned the rocket out of the air the instant it left the launcher. The resulting explosion damaged the tube beyond use and the flashing Chinese text flickered before fading like a ghost meeting the harsh light of day. Though his superior mobility kept him alive, Abdul was outgunned. It would pick him apart. Desperate he drove his chassis even harder and systems overheated and shut down with wails of defeat. The 5THSUN chassis’ reaction times were too fast. It used its HEL pulse to sweep Abdul’s flechettes from the air, detonating most, and turning the rest into tumbling misshapen nuggets of molten metal and plastic the chassis’ armor ignored.

  He couldn’t hurt it and he couldn’t avoid its attacks for much longer. Maybe he could—

  Motion from the front lobby hall.

  “No!”

  ***

  Griffin followed the sound of gunfire. The air was thick with dust and debris and he squinted to see through it. A chunk of marble hissed past so fast he didn’t see it and he realized how vulnerable he was. His face stung where tiny fragments had embedded themselves in his flesh. Blood trickled down his cheeks like tears. He felt soft and breakable.

  Swallow the fear. Keep moving.

  Abdul came into view for a fraction of a second. The chassis was on the floor, on the wall, bouncing off the ceiling. He disappeared. A cacophonous maelstrom of devastation followed his every movement.

  Abdul was running for his life.

  Griffin had to help. He crept forward. The Tavor felt heavy. He didn’t know what he planned. Perhaps he could shoot the enemy somewhere vulnerable, or distract it for a critical moment. The sound was deafening. His tongue was thick with grit and his throat caked with chalky taste of plaster dust.