Dogs of War

by Adrian Tchaikovsky

  “Yeah, I’m sure it was that.”

  Hartnell’s grin turned sickly. It wasn’t at all that he didn’t want you asking questions, just in case Rex started giving you honest answers.

  4

  Rex

  My name is Rex. I am a Good Dog.

  Today we are On The Move. I like being On The Move. This means my squad takes point and runs ahead of Master and my human friends. If there are enemies we will find them and kill them. That means the enemy will not hurt Master.

  Master has a new friend, only I am not sure if she is a friend. When she was first there, Master made a joke about being an enemy, so I was going to kill her. Then Master explained the joke to me, so I knew not to.

  I whine a bit to myself, because I had been very close to killing her. She had been standing next to Master and that had made my very anxious. I do not like being anxious. Now I know she is not an enemy but part of me remembers that she was one before. That also makes me anxious.

  I do not think that Master understands how close I was to killing her. I have not told Master that. Bad Dog, says my feedback chip but still I do not tell him.

  Honey is talking to me, reporting no contact with the enemy. Honey has found some fruit and is eating it as we go. She thinks I don’t know, because we are not supposed to eat On The Move, but I can smell the sticky sweetness of it, almost overripe. We are travelling through farmland at the moment. There are no farmers. The fruit goes to waste. I do not reprimand Honey, even though I am supposed to (Bad Dog). I have been working with Honey for many months. Honey is cleverer than I am. I am making a Command Decision: Honey is allowed to eat fruit.

  Dragon does not report to me. Right now I can see his long body winding through the fields, changing shade to match the ground. He has no smell, even for me. That makes me whine a bit as well. Dragon is also clever, but not as clever as he thinks he is. But Master likes Dragon. Dragon gets results. Whine whine whine.

  Master’s new friend is Ellene Asanto. She is very strange. I could smell when she was afraid, which was when she first saw me. She wasn’t an enemy any more, by then, but she was still afraid. Only enemies should be afraid. So I am confused.

  She smells different.

  I have tried to explain to Master how she smells, but I do not have words for it in the language they gave me. It is only in my own head I can know how she smells. I am still whining quietly to myself.

  Honey’s channel: What’s the matter, Rex?

  I do not tell Honey. I am uncertain about Ellene Asanto and I am uncertain about how to talk to Master and I am experiencing relationship conflicts between how Honey and I are supposed to interact and how we actually do. My feedback chip notes, Stress levels exceeding optimal parameters and I get a shot and then I am better. I am calm.

  Bees is reporting to me. She has been flying her bodies in a wide ring around us, but now she confirms that there is a population ahead like Master showed me on the satellite imaging.

  Bees’ channel: Integrity at 99% Venom capacity 99% Requesting permission to perform advance scouting action.

  I query Bees’ loss of integrity. We have not encountered any enemy yet.

  Bees’ channel: (images of avian predators) I am still teaching the locals that black and yellow means danger. (humour).

  I do not understand Bees sometimes. I give her permission to perform her advance scouting action.

  Honey’s channel: Is it the new female human, Rex?

  Dragon’s channel: You had her running scared.

  My channel: She is not an enemy. I don’t want her to be scared.

  I do not tell them the rest. I do not tell them that although Ellene Asanto was scared of me, Master was scared of Ellene Asanto. It was not in his face and it was not in his body, but it was in his smell. That made it a secret between me and Master. I have not told Master that I know. That is a secret just for me. I am not supposed to keep secrets from Master (Bad Dog!). If Master asked I would have to tell him. But he will not ask, and I know he would be angry if he knew I knew. I do not want Master to be angry with me. That is the worst thing I can think of. Bad Dog! says the feedback chip once more, making me anxious all over again. Soon I will need another shot to keep me at optimal performance. Hart will see that I have been anxious and needed too many shots. He will want to know why, and I might have to tell him. That makes me anxious too.

  Dragon’s channel: What’s the matter, Rex? Are you worried now Master has a new friend he won’t want you any more?

  I ignore Dragon. Dragon is wrong, anyway. There is not that sort of connection, between the female and Master. I can smell this. I can smell that there isn’t between Ellene Asanto and Hart, too. I can smell that Hart wants there to be. These are all things that I do not want to have to talk about to Master or Hart or anybody. These are things I do not think I am supposed to understand. They do not help me serve Master.

  Honey’s channel: Don’t worry, Rex. We’re just here to do our job. Leave the complex stuff to the humans. If you get confused, I’ll help you.

  That calms me, and feedback notes my falling anxiety and tells me Good Dog in a small voice.

  I talk to Master and report our progress. I talk to my guns and my internal systems and make sure they are working within tolerance. We are past the farm now, entering more trees. The country here is cut up: strips of open ground and strips of forest, and then ground that was farmland and is now wild again, with vines and bushes growing up. Moving on all fours, Dragon and I can pass through this patchwork country almost unseen. Only the great bulk of Honey cannot hide, save where the trees are taller than she is.

  Bees’ channel: Contact with unclassified human population. (image of a great many humans, tents, vehicles).

  Bees’ images are grainy when her units are spread out. It is very hard to know whether these are enemies or friends. I share it with Dragon and Honey and send it to Master for orders.

  Honey’s channel: Civilians. We should keep clear. I tell her our orders are to make contact with the human population. Making contact usually means eliminating them, but that is because all non-friend humans we have met so far have been enemies. I like it when humans are my friends. If they are not my friends then I like it when they are my enemies. I have been extensively programmed and trained to make contact with enemies. We all have. When humans are neither my friends nor my enemies, I am uncomfortable because I have no expectations of what making contact will involve.

  Dragon’s channel: We should keep clear.

  I don’t know if Dragon really thinks that or if he says it because he knows it is against orders, or if he is just repeating the words Honey said. He does that sometimes. Dragon’s job is to not be seen, and to neutralise specific enemies. When he has no specific enemies to neutralise, he does not like to fight. Dragon is very lazy. Bad Dragon, I think, but I cannot say that. Only Master or Dragon’s feedback chip can say that. It doesn’t mean anything coming from me.

  The human population is ahead of us. I can smell them very strongly: sweat and excrement and illness and just general many-humans-close-together. I can see humans of various sizes. I cannot see weapons but that does not mean they are not enemies. Only Master can know if they are enemies or not.

  I send a query to Master because we are getting very close to the population and we do not have orders. I do not receive a pingback.

  I ping Master again. No response.

  Whine.

  I tell the others that I have lost communications with Master. This is not the first time, but the others times have not been when we were about to make contact with the enemy/ not the enemy.

  Honey’s channel: Hold our advance?

  Dragon’s channel: Too late. They’ve seen Honey.

  I stop. My feedback chip notes my stress levels are high again and I get a shot. This time it doesn’t seem to help. I can hear human voices shouting. I can smell fear. I can see weapons, but not many and not dangerous to us. Weapons does not mean they are enemies. Only Master c
an know if they are enemies or not. If they are enemies we must eliminate them. If they are not enemies…

  I do not know what to do. I am not used to meeting notenemies.

  Bees’ channel: Orders?

  Honey’s channel: Orders, Rex?

  Dragon says nothing but I know he is waiting.

  I ping Master again. No response. I have command. It is my decision.

  I decide that we must make contact.

  5

  Hartnell

  “OK, so update me on where our ‘Assets’ are,” Ellene Asanto asked.

  “I told you: they’re out on manoeuvres,” Murray drawled.

  “You keep telling me things, but you’re not showing me anything, Mr Murray,” she pressed.

  He sighed theatrically. “Miss Asanto, you’ve had the feeds of thirteen different dog packs to play with, from all over Campeche. If nothing else, it should show that there was no need for you to come here in person. I could have had it all linked to your desk back in Silicon Valley.”

  Asanto played with her scarf. The sight of it sent Hart’s sweat glands into overdrive but, true to her word, there wasn’t even a bead of perspiration on her brow. “Dog packs are almost a familiar technology these days, Mr Murray. Your Multiform squad is much more interesting. Future of war, wasn’t it? Our shareholders have sunk a great deal into this project. You need to give me something to take back to them. They like to know their money’s being looked after.”

  The words tripped off her tongue easily enough, the usual corporate hard line. Hartnell felt that there was more unsaid than said between the two of them, though. Certainly the Abominable Doctor Moray didn’t care about Asanto’s shareholders. Hartnell had the odd feeling Asanto didn’t either.

  The three of them were crammed into the belly of a Redmark armoured car, the hatch still open to give them a little air while the camp got itself together. The security firm’s human assets were only just beginning to move. The Bioforms had left in the small hours, treading the path the humans would take, taking point and taking the brunt of any Anarchista traps or ambushes.

  When the Bioforms had set out, Murray had given his spiel, that Hartnell had heard more than once before.

  “War is an expensive bloody business, Miss Asanto,” he’d declaimed. “Historically, most expensive in human lives. If human soldiers are to be effective, you need to invest in the sort of training and kit that would bankrupt a small sovereign state, and despite all of that, you can’t guarantee that they’ll come back in one piece. It’s the way war’s gone. We’re all very concerned about the lives of our people, Miss Asanto. Their deaths impact on Redmark’s bottom line, and no doubt trouble the dreams of your shareholders as well.”

  Her face had suggested that she’d heard this sort of patter before as well. She did a good line in profoundly unimpressed.

  “Bioforms are quite literally the soldiers of the future,” Murray had told her, as though she was a TV camera broadcasting to a thousand potential customers. “Intelligent, loyal, adaptable, prodigiously durable, and not even that expensive now the tech has been developed. They come in a half-dozen different breeds, with more on the way, each tailored to a particular role. And they’re not human; they have no rights. And there are other advantages.” His hard smile remained, sharp and clear like glass, letting the murky implications of that just hang there.

  Now he opened up a couple of screens, pulling them down from the vehicle’s ceiling and snapping them rigid. He had a single lens like a blue glass eyepatch that would give him private access to the squad’s feeds, but it was the work of a moment to have the images blown up for general consumption.

  “This is Rex’s feed,” he identified. They had a view of open forest, rolling and yawing with Rex’s loping quadruped gait. Every so often the view would slow as Rex paused to look and listen and sniff. “Rex is squad leader, the perfect balance of obedience and dominance. His superior genestock hearing and sense of smell have been ported over mostly intact. He can pick up explosives, drugs, guns, vehicles, people; he can tell if he’s being lied to; he can even pick up certain diseases or medical conditions, although that’s not something he’s been extensively trained in. Still, it goes to show that Bioforms have a future outside the war front, don’t you think, Miss Asanto?”

  “The shareholders will be pleased,” she agreed. “There is still the question of how precisely you’re employing them here in the conflict.”

  “Squeamish, are they?” Murray cocked a cold eye at her.

  “Let’s just say they want to make sure there’s enough space between here and the boardroom that they don’t get blood on their hands,” she stated flatly. “And that depends on just how much blood is going around.”

  Murray’s face collapsed back to its habitual frown, and the smile he donned after that looked forced even to Hartnell. “Well, I can’t show you the actual engagements. That’s covered by NDAs between Redmark and its employers. You’re welcome to watch Rex go walkies, but after that, you’ll have to be content with a blow-by-blow from me.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “You’re going to tell me that the results will speak for themselves.”

  “Well, they will.” Murray’s expansive gesture was curtailed by their cramped surroundings. “We’re on the ticket of quite a few interested parties right now: what’s left of the Mexican government, the CIA and a cartel of multinationals who were doing well here until the Anarchistas turned up.” He shook his head, burlesquing concern. “Really, it goes to show that popular support and grass roots movements are the worst possible thing for democracy.”

  “Very funny.” Asanto didn’t seem amused.

  “So long as it’s us laughing at the end.” Murray considered his private viewscreen. “I see Bees is coming up to our target. Time to draw the curtain I’m afraid.”

  Asanto shrugged. “And this target is…?”

  “We’re not sure, but odds on it’s Anarchista supporters who got bombed out of Edzna when the army went in. That, by the way, was a truly spectacular fuck-up, and if they’d left it to Redmark we’d have handled everything a hell of a lot better, right Hart?”

  Hartnell twitched and then nodded vigorously, mouth full of whiskey.

  “So, now…” And Murray froze, for a good three seconds just as if someone had pulled his plug. Then: “Fuck you, Hart, not again.”

  “Me? What?” Hartnell was abruptly scrabbling for his tablet, trying to work out what was going on. “We’ve lost signal again?”

  “Just cut right out, you incompetent retard.” All of Murray’s self-assured bonhomie was just gone. “Miss Asanto, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “Really? Only this sounds like the sort of thing our shareholders—”

  “Fuck the shareholders.” For a second Hartnell thought Murray was going to hit her, but he reined in his temper at the last moment. “Technical difficulties. I need to discipline my staff. Get out please.”

  When she was gone, Murray was already on comms to Redmark’s regular human scouts, telling them to get out there and acquire a visual on whatever Rex and his squad were doing. “Fucking timing, Hart,” he snarled.

  “I’m telling you, I don’t understand it.” Hartnell was checking all channels, isolating the fault. All connection with the squad had gone. It wasn’t the first time, and he’d taken the Multiform network apart to try and find the bug. Each occasion, he’d assured Murray it was fixed, but the truth was that he’d searched and searched for faulty code, for enemy interference, for loose wires even, and found nothing. Every so often they just lost the squad.

  Never like this, though: never just as they were about to get into a fight.

  “I guess this’ll be the real test of how well they work on their own,” he ventured, and then Murray’s hand had the back of his neck like a vice.

  “If this fucks up, I will fucking kill you,” Murray snarled in his ear, “and I will enjoy it.”

  Ladies and gentlemen, the Moray of Campeche.
Because this was Murray. This was how he really was. The threat was no idle one. Hartnell had no idea what Murray would be doing with his life if he wasn’t ordering animals to kill people in the name of a shadowy junta of ousted special interests. Probably something in investment banking or venture capitalism, any trade where an utter inability to empathise with the people he hurt was considered a positive boon.

  Hartnell hadn’t wanted to become a field technician for Redmark in the first place, but his bright start at Yale had deteriorated year on year through underachieving, bad decisions and drunken affairs until there was simply no other job he could get that would make a dent in his debts. After coming here and meeting Murray, he’d begun to realise that what he’d signed on for was far, far worse than he’d known. He’d assumed the Bioforms would be the worst of it.

  “Jesus.” Abruptly the nascent new comms architecture he was putting in place was gone, wiped from the system. “I… I actually think we’re under attack somehow.”

  “From where? From the Anarchistas?” Murray demanded. “You’re telling me they have the capability to crack Redmark security and just run around out network without any warning of it? Where the fuck did that come from? ‘Cos they sure as hell didn’t have it before.”

  “Maybe they’ve got someone on side,” Hartnell tried.

  “There’s nobody they can afford. They’re just fucking peasants.”

  “A rival government, or…?”

  “If there’s one bunch no gov’s going to bail out, it’s the Anarchistas. Nobody wants all that back-to-the-soil, backto-the-soul shit sprouting in their back yard.” Murray stood, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Just get it fixed. And find out what the fuck is making this happen.”

  Hartnell got back to work, trying to re-establish the comms network and watching the system itself dismantle what he was building. He’d gone over the protocols, he’d tested everything. The whole system was intentionally simplistic, to allow him to fix things on the fly. Except now he was fighting it, or it was fighting him.