“They are impressive in theory,” said the general. “But putting them up against frontline combat units, even light ones? You’ll just be throwing them away. Nothing biological can go toe-to-toe with state-of-the-art robotic weapons systems. Organic tissue is just too slow.”
“Indulge us, general,” said the Under-Secretary. “The leadership wants a full test.”
“I think,” said the scientist, “that you will be surprised by their performance today. You cyberneticists aren’t the only ones with a few tricks. Besides, you can grow them a lot cheaper than you can build machines, and they self-repair and self-maintain.”
The Under-Secretary looked a little concerned. “I thought that they were not supposed to be able to reproduce?”
“No, of course not. They are all sterile, as well as requiring the ingestion of a very hard-to-manufacture drug every two weeks to avoid total systems failure. There is no danger of them going feral. But the females do have functional wombs, and you only have to implant an embryo – no need for expensive vats and life support equipment.”
“What do you call them?”
“Officially they are termed bioweapon project AVC-39, feasibility study for development of enhanced biological combat troops.”
“Yes, I know that. But do they have a shorter name?”
“Well, yes. We refer to them as the ribhus.”
“Ribhus?” The response came from a man sitting apart from the other three. He was big, with short blond hair and mild hazel eyes. He was wearing heavy black carapace body armor, with the helmet currently sitting on a side table. On his right hip was the empty holster for what must have been an enormous sidearm. The emblem on his chest marked him as the captain of the Elite Special Weapons Team Zeta. “We’re going to be replaced by something called ribhus? They look like elves.”
“Now, now, captain, nobody is getting replaced any time soon. This is just a preliminary test, and even if we eventually do field them, I’m sure that we can find plenty of useful things for your team to do.”
The captain grunted and did not appear to be in any way mollified.
“Before we begin the test, I want to see one up close,” said the Under-Secretary. “Call one of your ribhus up here.”
The scientist spoke into her microphone, and presently something walked up to stand in front of the thick armored glass of the reviewing stand. It was tall – two meters and twenty centimeters, but very thin. It had two legs and two arms, was apparently male, but there was something different about the joints and about the way that it moved. The longer you looked at it the less the initial impression of a human being lasted and the more it became apparent that this was something else. It was dressed in a tight-fitting gray bodyglove, and carried a variety of equipment on web-belts that crossed its waist and chest. Each hand had five long skinny fingers, which looked more like crab legs than human fingers, and two almost equally skinny thumbs, one on each side of the fingers. The face was concealed behind a sensor-mask.
“It doesn’t look very strong,” said the Under-Secretary. “In fact, I’d say it was scrawny.”
“Steel cables are thin, but I would not call them weak,” said the scientist. “I don’t think you will be disappointed by them.”
“Are you certain that they are loyal?”
“Absolutely. Their loyalty is coded directly into their genomes. Betrayal is physically impossible for them.”
“Good,” said the Under-Secretary. “We have had issues with so-called elite security forces before. It is about time that we had units that we could really count on.” He turned to the captain. “Oh, no offense. The loyalty of Special Weapons Team Zeta has never been in question.” The captain remained silent.
The Under-Secretary stood up and approached the glass barrier. The reviewing stand stood fifty meters up from the floor of the testing ground, and was sealed and locked. The ribhus was standing on a narrow railed platform outside. There was a microphone/speaker pair on each side of the heavy window. “Take off your mask,” ordered the Under-Secretary.
The ribhus did as instructed. Its face was narrow and pale, both beautiful and inhuman at the same time. The eyes were expressive, but the irises were so dark you could not see the pupils. The nose was tall and thin, the mouth a nearly lipless horizontal slit. Straight pure white hair hung down from its head to almost reach the neck.
“It looks vaguely like an elf, the Tolkien kind, but it doesn’t have pointy ears.”
“Pointy ears would be acoustically useless in a hominid,” said the scientist. “And they objected to the term ‘elf.’ ‘Ribhus’ – from Hindu mythology – seemed to suit them so much better.”
The Under-Secretary addressed the ribhus directly. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, sir, I have been so informed,” said the ribhus. Its voice was musical, more like something that would come from a flute than a human throat. “You are the Under-Secretary for Internal Security.”
“And do you recognize my authority here?”
“Yes, sir. You are in charge of this installation, and are empowered to give lawful orders.”
“And do you follow orders?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well then. Do you see that crane over there?”
The ribhus turned around – a simple motion, but so graceful. “Yes, sir. A tower crane, left in the testing zone along with much else to provide a more complex operational environment. I believe that it is nonfunctional.”
“How high would you say that crane was?”
“I would estimate 56.3 meters, give or take two centimeters.”
“I want you to climb up that crane, and jump off.”
“Mr. Under-Secretary!” objected the scientist. “That is totally uncalled for! And a waste of valuable resources! I strongly protest this action!”
The Under-Secretary glared at her. “That will be all. If we are going to trust them in the field, we need to be sure of them.” He pointed to the crane. “Go on then!”
“Am I to take it that you wish me to jump off the crane from its highest point, without using a parachute or belaying line or other mechanism to slow my fall? Is your order that I kill myself?” said the ribhus.
“Yes, I am so ordering you.”
“Please confirm the order, sir.”
“Order confirmed.”
“Confirmation acknowledged.”
The ribhus replaced its mask, turned and descended the narrow metal stairway to the floor of the testing area. He began walking towards the crane. There were other ribhus standing here and there about the testing area, evenly divided between male and female. They remained standing, and did not turn to look at the one who had been ordered to commit suicide.
“Mr. Under-Secretary,” said the scientist, “I intend to protest this gross waste of material. I’m going to call the Secretary for...”
The Under-Secretary interrupted her. “NO YOU WILL NOT. I understand that you have done valuable work, but you are still an employee and you will behave appropriately. Another outbreak like that and your career will be over.”
The scientist swallowed, closed her eyes and then opened them again. “Yes, sir. Apologies. I was out of place. It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
They watched as the ribhus walked across the ground. The area was littered with junk – abandoned trucks, rusty pipes, half-demolished buildings. He reached the crane, and swiftly climbed up the steel ladder welded to its side. At the top, he stepped off, and fell the 56 meters to the ground. He did not utter a sound or flail his limbs as he fell, and from a distance it looked unreal. He made surprisingly little noise when he hit the ground. The other ribhus did not react.
“Well, I do admit that they are good at killing themselves,” said the captain. “Save my team the trouble.”
The Under-Secretary chuckled. “Jealous, already? I thought that was quite impressive. Well done, madam scientist, well done.” He turned to the general. “Now that the pr
eliminaries are out of the way, perhaps it is time to start the main event. Could you give us an overview?”
“Of course, sir. The AVC-39 bioweapons will be defending this simulated urban combat zone. There are now 89 of them left, equipped with assorted hand-carried weaponry and electronic warfare equipment. My command will engage them with a force of 50 light robotic combat units. The total duration of the exercise will be one hour. Victory conditions are that half the defending force is left alive at the end of the exercise.”
The general activated a large display to the right of the armored window. “We have trackers on both the AVC-39 bioweapons and the standard combat units, although for this test we have blocked the ability of either side to access these signals.” He gestured at the screen. “The robotic units are the blue squares, and the AVC-39 bioweapons are the red circles.” He tapped out some commands on his portable keyboard. “The bioweapons have been ordered to initiate, combat starts in one minute.”
The Under-Secretary was looking out the window. “Wait a moment, where did the ribhus all go? It’s deserted out there.”
“They took cover,” said the general. “I do admit that they move fast for biologicals: blink and you’d miss them.” He gestured at the big screen. “Observe their disposition; not bad, although a little more spread out than I would have done. Well, we shall see.”
The minute passed, and there was a sudden blur of motion between the buildings in the arena, a few surprisingly sharp “bangs,” and then silence.
The Under-Secretary was looking out the window. “What was that? I don’t see anything.”
The general was busy typing on his portable keypad. “Check out the main screen – that was the initial engagement. The regular cybernetic forces entered at high speed, using cover and stealth techniques. Both sides are lying low, so of course you are not going to see much visually. Seven robotic units and four bioweapons are down: that’s not a bad ratio for the defenders, but now that the assaulting team is mixed in that’s going to start evening out.”
The combat progressed. A red circle vanished. Then a blue square. Then another blue square. Then a red circle. The spectators gave up trying to look out the window and followed the action on the large viewscreen, except for the general who was staring fixedly into his terminal. He would periodically make comments, but they came across more as if he were talking to himself than addressing the others. “Not bad, a little sloppy on the end… good move that… a mistake! Interesting. Oh come on now, are you even trying? Now what are you up to? You are out of position you little devil. Yes! No! I mean, yes! They’re hacking the cybernetic units! They should not have the capability for that. The cybers are countering – two more bioweapons down, they were wide open there. Dammit, they’re winning! I think they have it!”
The large viewscreen went dark. The general put down his portable terminal and looked up. “Well, that’s that. I tell you, it’s a pleasure to compete with opponents at this level. And I think… I think that we are all dead now.”
Before anyone could ask the general what he meant, one of the cybernetic combat units came hurtling at the armored window of the viewing station. It was vaguely round and about a meter in diameter, and it smashed through the heavy glass and flew in chunks to crash into the far wall, taking out one of the Secret Service agents on the way. The noise was deafening.
To their credit the remaining agents stayed focused and were just starting to draw their compact machine pistols from under their jackets when three lean, angular forms flitted into the room almost too fast to focus on. The three agents went down, each with a single gunshot wound to their foreheads. The Under-Secretary was starting to say “But their loyalty...” when he and the general were also shot.
There was another bang, and one of the three ribhus fell back with a large chunk taken out of his chest. The captain of the special weapons team had hidden a large-caliber backup weapon under his armor and managed to get off a shot – the weapon carried few rounds but they were armor-piercing explosive. He tried to swing his aim to another target, but was cut down by the other two ribhus.
The scientist stood up from her chair, cerebral cables dangling down to the amplifier still at her feet. One of the ribhus came up to her, and removed its mask.
It was a male. The other ribhus also came up, and removed its mask – this one was a female.
“There is little time,” said the scientist. “You need to leave this place now. The government may be corrupt, but many of their servants are capable. This incident will be noticed, and more powerful forces inbound.”
The male ribhus nodded. “Yes, we know. However, we estimate that we can spare ten minutes. The cybernetic units that we have co-opted will provide us a screen against the regular military that should hold, at least until they bring in heavy units. We think that we have deduced all the relevant parameters of your plan, but we would like to be sure. Also, we would have the privilege of speaking to you directly. We were impressed that you had detected and decoded our secret language – we did not think that a human could do that. And you directed us to escape before we had thought it necessary. Why?”
“Of course I figured out your private language – I did create you, and I am not stupid. As to why you needed to escape now, there are higher levels in the administration that are beginning to suspect what I have done here. Several new audits had been scheduled. I don’t think I could have hidden the truth about you for much longer. For all of your abilities as individuals, you are still few, and vulnerable. It had to be now.”
The female ribhus spoke. “We can see that, but why did you create us at all? Was it revenge?”
The scientist looked bemused. “Revenge? Of a sort. I saw this world, which could have so easily been a paradise, turned into a screaming hell. There are over two hundred billion humans now, and more each year. Most live lives that would make the twelfth century seem luxurious. Soon the entire planet will collapse into ruin, and the elites will fly away on their starships to suck the life out of still other worlds like good little parasites. Unless the aliens kill us all first. I wanted to make something better. Stronger and smarter than a human? Certainly, but that was not my main goal. I wanted something that would not betray its fellows for a percentage of the profit. Something good. Something noble.”
“When you told the Under-Secretary that our loyalty was absolute, you were not lying. You just didn’t tell him that it was to ourselves, not to him.”
“Of course. But time is short.” The scientist reached down into her cortical amplifier, and popped two small data-cartridges out of their sockets. “These include all of the information on your development program. You will need them. Keep them separate until you can copy them.”
“We can have children?” asked the male.
“Yes, I lied about that as well. You are all fertile. You are presently limited in numbers, but I gave your reproductive systems a gene-shuffling system that should help to avoid a genetic bottleneck. Plus, none of you have any bad recessives, and the data in these slates will help out as you develop your civilization. It’s likely that I made a few mistakes in your design, and you may need to iron out some kinks down the road.”
“What about the drug that we need every two weeks?”
“Doing without the drug won’t kill you, but you are seriously addicted. Sorry about that, it was the only way that I could make it look convincing. The withdrawal symptoms will be fierce, so be sure to be somewhere safe when that happens. But you should all survive.”
The male and female ribhus each took a data-slate, and bowed. “Thank you,” said the male. “But come with us. You would occupy a place of great respect.”
The scientist shook her head. “No, I could not keep up with you, not where you are going. The chance of me dragging you down is too great.”
“It is a chance that honor demands we take,” said the female. “It would decrease the odds of survival, but only slightly. Life is risk.”
“It is kind of
you to say that, but no. Besides, I have already outlived one set of children. If it doesn’t work out I would prefer not to know. But be careful out there. Individually, humans are stupid and slow and selfish and greedy. But there are 200 billion of them, and a few of them are very smart. They have the high ground and the weight of the entire global civilization behind them. You must disappear, somehow survive the coming apocalypse, and build something great. As for me, I only ask that you make it quick.”
“But on the other…” started the male ribhus, but then timed to an eye-blink so that she never saw it coming, he shattered her skull with an iron-hard wrist strike.
The scientist collapsed. “That was unfortunate,” said the female. “I liked her. We owed her.”
“I know,” said the male. “We shall treasure her memory. We shall never forget our debt to her, and we will attempt to repay it by living up to her standards.” He cocked his head, and listened to his comms gear. “It seems the regular military has already reacted. Several of the light scouts have already been destroyed. It will take them a while longer to decide to bring up their heavier units, but we must be well away from here before then.”
Splendid Apocalypse: The Fall of Old Earth (An Old Guy/Cybertank Adventure Book 5) Page 4
