The Final Wars Begin

by S A Asthana

  “General.” The voice came through on his earpiece.

  He recognized the soft female tone. “Is it time?” He could barely hear himself over his heart beating in his ears.

  “Your weekly brief with the High Council is in an hour.”

  Damn. Hiding the crash from the High Council was not an option. They would discover the incident, along with its supposed root cause. Sooner than later the incident would need to be messaged. Unless Marie denied it.

  Yes indeed—she could deny it. She wouldn’t want the wrath of the Martians on her doorstep. She was deranged but not that deranged. No, she would be reasonable and just deny it. The crash could then be categorized as an unfortunate accident. Forgotten, discarded like the 1.V4 itself.

  “What about Marie?” he asked. “Have we been able to get in touch with her? I need a conversation with her before I get in front of the council.”

  “We’ve tried to connect with her ten times since the crash. Nothing.”

  Damn!

  CHAPTER 16: MARIE

  Marie gasped for air and sat upright on the cold, metal table. Her bare breasts heaved with pained breaths, and her eyes blinked away rheum. The image of Cube’s ugly face flashed and dissolved into a palette of blacks and grays. Wires and tubes connected her upper torso to the kiosks. Screens displayed diagnostics—heart rate, blood pressure. Blackness loomed behind the whirring machinery. It was all too familiar. Not the surgery room again.

  A sharp pain shot through Marie’s chest forcing her back down. Something needled from the inside. She let out a pained moan and grasped at the wound dressing across her chest.

  “You’re incredibly lucky, my queen.” A familiar voice cut in through the mechanical din. A short, stout man approached with a syringe in hand. Dr. Kawasaki, the royal physician jabbed the needle into Marie’s left shoulder. “You nearly died this time.”

  “Wh-what happened?” Marie asked. The syringe’s contents rushed through her chest, cooling it from the inside. Knots loosened. Relief.

  “You overdosed—that’s what happened. Again. This time the euphoria clogged your hardware instead of your heart.”

  Despite her clouded vision, Marie could make out the man’s round face. A cartoon with spectacles. “I got to you just in time. Heard about the incident from one of your guards.” His Nipponese accent was hard to understand but Marie was used to it. She was in his care almost weekly. “Said you had a disagreement with the Martian military and then fell to the floor in a fit of rage.” He wiped sweat from his brow. “This time your hardware made the difference, or your heart would have fried.”

  The medicine contained a nanotech compound that allowed cyborgs to heal their hardware quickly. These compounds were millions of microscopic nanobots that, once injected into a body, repaired equipment, wiring, and the surrounding flesh. The gear would never be as good as new, but it was still better than leaving splintered tech inside the tissue. That never ended well.

  “I would’ve given you that injection earlier, but I needed to stabilize your body first. You were convulsing aggressively.”

  Marie coughed—it hurt more than it had before. She recalled getting news of Hafiz’s death. Images of communicating with Cube flickered. The argument, the threats, all of it swirled as if a floodgate had been breached.

  “It’s funny how much the human body can handle,” the doctor said. “Even if it’s battered again and again.”

  “You feel sorry for me?” There was a bite in her tone.

  “Sorry? No.” The man shrugged as he discarded his surgical gloves into a trash bin. “Not sorry. I feel concerned.”

  He was just another trinket in her world. “Will my tech still work?”

  “Yes.” The doctor washed his hands and face in a nearby sink. “Fortunately, the memory modules weren't impacted—only the wiring connecting them to your processers and brain. It just got repaired by the nanobots.”

  “You sure?”

  “Are you really asking if I’m sure?” There was a hint of irritation. He’d never spoken to her this way. Marie’s first instinct was to scold but she didn’t press further. It was foolish to question him. He’d performed cyberfication on her years earlier. The magnificent gears and wiring were his work. One of the best gifts from the Nipponese emperor.

  “Look, you should cut down the drugs.” The doctor’s shoulders drooped as if defeat rode his back. “I was able to save you this time. But next time, I’m not so sure. This was your third overdose in the past six months, my queen. I can keep fixing your tech, but I fear your flesh and heart will be beyond repair soon.”

  Marie pursed her lips. How could he possibly know her stresses? A mere mortal, even one as educated as him, could never fully grasp what a goddess went through. The trials divinity had to endure were woefully beyond him. All the hard work brought many pressures—pressures that required coping mechanisms. Euphoria was that coping mechanism. Even if it meant an overdose here and there.

  Her empire had demanded hard work and long hours. Ten years’ worth of blood, sweat, and toil. No one knew the sacrifices better than Marie herself. Not even the doctor.

  A grey image of her father flashed in front of her. A momentary hallucination, perhaps? He laid on the floor gasping for air, an open gash ringing his neck. A thick pool of blood spread away. His eyes remained locked with hers but she had no remorse. He’d meant zero to her. In the end, there had been pain and sorrow, but all one-sided.

  Her eyes stared unseeing into the darkness.

  After usurping the throne, Marie had set off full throttle on her long journey ahead. There was so much that had needed doing. First, her sister was driven away. Then Marie had undone existing hierarchies thread by thread so that fabrics loyal to her father could come apart. Rip at the seams. This way she could weave her environment to her liking. Third, she’d built a bridge with the Nipponese Emperor. This was important. He’d known nothing of her or her methods, but soon she’d convinced him of her vision for New Paris. Her sexuality could be very effective. In this manner, his aid was secured, which allowed her to uplevel the Parisian army, its attack and defense capabilities, and evolve it into something well beyond what it had ever been before. She even managed to create a new line of revenue—ties with Nipponese organized crime syndicates, like the Yakuza, had allowed her to expand euphoria into the lunar colony and reap immense profits.

  She’d done so much more in ten years than her father had in thirty years of rule. His dreams didn’t even suggest at the realities she made possible for New Paris. It was an unbelievable accomplishment. No one could deny that. No one. But it had all been stressful. The doctor could never understand this.

  “Port Sydney insults me,” she griped through gritted teeth. She was somewhere else. The kiosks and the doctor didn’t concern her now. “They cut ties with us when I came to power. The High Council thinks I’m an illegitimate ruler.”

  She tried sitting upright again. This time there was less pain. She curled her bared legs. “How long was I out?”

  “Half a day.”

  A lifetime. Back to business. Next steps were at hand. “What did I miss?”

  Crossing his short arms beneath his hefty belly with some strain, the doctor responded, “Quite a bit. Cube, that robot you were yelling at, crashed his spacecraft on the surface. Your people said it was some kind of malfunction. The remains were found by your soldiers.”

  Marie couldn’t help but let out a giddy giggle. “Really? Good. Was Bastien with him?”

  “Yes. And… so was your sister. Our hangar personnel saw Cube taking both of them aboard its craft.”

  They were together? Why? A betrayal. Yes, it had to be. Belle and Bastien were working together. It made perfect sense. Maybe they were in cahoots with Cube. Yes, all working against me. They needed to converge to bring the mighty goddess down. Well, good riddance. They’re all dead now. The giggle flared into a maniacal laugh. “My divinity destroys all threats! Their untimely demise was no fucking coincid
ence.”

  Dr. Kawasaki didn’t reciprocate the amusement. “While that might sound great, what happened next wasn’t. General Crone tried to communicate with you. Has tried several times. But you were out.”

  Marie cast him an irritated look. “What did he want?”

  “He didn’t say.” The doctor shook his head. “But I have an idea.”

  Marie’s mind was afire. I will show them. I am not to be pushed around. I’m a fucking god.

  The situation required closure. She reviewed the kiosks around her. All diagnostics were green. No spikes or reds in any of the graphed lines. Marie pulled out the wires and tubes attached to her wound.

  “Wait!” Dr. Kawasaki protested. “You need to rest.”

  “No.” Marie dangled her bare feet off the surgery table. “I’m going to tell Crone what he needs to hear.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Marie stood, her legs wobbling like flimsy plastic. The doctor rushed over and helped her straighten. “You don’t have all your strength yet.”

  Marie pushed past as her legs found their balance. “I’m going to tell him it was me that brought down Cube.”

  “What? But why?” Every fold on his body was jiggling. “My queen, with all due respect, you are asking for war.”

  Marie walked forward with head held high. After a few steps she stopped. “Yes, and that’s exactly what I’ll give them. The High Council will respect me.” She stared at the darkness ahead. Saw things in it. A mad despot, recharging.

  The doctor let out a sigh. “I… I don’t think that is such a good idea.”

  “I don’t care what you think.” Marie’s eyes remained fixed at nothing. “Send an electronic message to Crone. Put my official seal on it. Tell him I brought down that spacecraft.”

  CHAPTER 17: CRONE

  The room’s ivory walls enclosed Crone as if a cage carved from a cloud. Two vents wafted with the stench of cleaner fluid, like they always did. A large, flat square nearly filled the ceiling, its glass surface lit in hot, white light. Crone wiped sweat off his brow and cursed under his breath. The room was ten degrees hotter than the rest of Port Sydney. Of course, that was by design.

  Fiddling with his Nehru collar, Crone eyed three black ovals, each the size of a human head. They were attached to the floor near the back wall, serving as stark contrast to the room’s unsettling pale. Crone swallowed. His mouth was extra dry. The anticipation made him dizzy. Those eggs were about to come alive, after all.

  One by one, they glowed a light blue. Here we go.

  Three nine-foot-tall wraiths, humanoid in shape, materialized over the eggs. Clusters of sparkles floated within each like stars dancing inside a black cocktail. There were familiar elements of man such as arms, legs, and a head, but there was no definition to any of it. The three holograms were nebulous representations of something human, but not quite.

  General Crone bowed low to the giants. “Greetings, High Council.”

  “I hope you have good news for us, Frank,” one figure thundered in a deep male voice, its blackness flickering white as it spoke. The walls seemed to shake with every word.

  Frank studied his polished black shoes and chewed on his bottom lip. If only there’d been more time to prepare the message properly. Things were moving too fast. Straightening his back, he responded, “There was… an attack on our handler—one of our best. Cube was en route from New Paris with Lieutenant General Bastien Lyons in tow when his craft was attacked. The prisoner was killed in the crash. So, that’s good news. Although, Cube was destroyed as well, but we managed to recover it. So… that’s also good news.” He was blabbering. Take control of your words. “We believe Marie Dubois to be behind the attack. Our suspicions were confirmed less than fifteen minutes ago when I received a direct message from her stating she had, in fact, ordered the attack. She claimed it was in response to Cube killing one of her men.”

  The message was all over the place. They can probably hear my heart beating. “Turns out she was hiding Bastien all along. Cube confronted them, and her right-hand was killed in the process.”

  A haphazard mouthful, the result of too little preparation. Frank paused to gauge his audience’s reaction. When faced with silence, he inhaled, a breath that took much longer than anticipated to fill the lungs. “She broke article eleven of the Trilateral Treaty—The Extradition of Criminals. And, then…”

  He hesitated to go on. The conversation would surely lead to a dark place. But he had no choice. “… the attack on our spacecraft was a breach, as you are aware, of article two of the treaty—The Right to Defend.”

  He paused again. The two bottles of water he’d downed minutes before the meeting hadn’t made a difference. His tongue was still sandpaper.

  The three ghosts talked to one another. There were no words exchanged, just colorful flickers. It was their communication method—a creation of artificial intelligence. Incomprehensible to humans, the language comprised of only light signals, although there had to be more to it than that. The holograms were merely representations of the artificial intelligence that spanned Port Sydney’s massive complex. The entire facility was a giant quantum computer, the largest mix of hardware and software ever created by human hands—the metal walls that housed one hundred thousand people were actually circuit boards, something most here often forgot as they went about their daily lives. Behind their pale white flickers, running three separate layers of code, the High Council conversed continuously via ones and zeros. The light show was just a perfunctory display, some song and dance to make human spectators feel involved in the decision-making. It wasn’t needed. And, quite frankly, it was condescending. Humans weren’t mere dogs fooled by pretty lights, right?

  “Frank, we are very disappointed,” the middle hologram spoke, this one with a melodic yet emotionless female voice. “Not just in you but in the predictability of humans in general. Every element of this situation had the statistical probability of occurring at little more than seventy percent. We had surmised previously at least one of your military personnel would have issues with our intent to euthanize. And Bastien Lyons had the highest statistical chance of being that person given his character profile and background.”

  Frank felt his lungs empty as if a vacuum had materialized inside them. The High Council had seen this coming?

  “Marie Dubois was also identified as the most likely source of volatility in this Solar System’s human leadership network,” she continued. “She has resented us for a decade. Her helping Bastien is no coincidence. Her actions sent a clear signal.”

  Yes, they’d seen it coming. All of it.

  “When these probabilities were normalized and accounted for together, this exact scenario had a 71.67 percent chance of playing out.”

  The unexpected Butterfly Effect hadn’t been so unexpected after all. “Why… why not stop it in advance, then? Why not discharge Bastien so he could never create these problems for us?”

  “The only way to have truly stopped this entire sequence of events from playing out would have required removal of the original source of the problem,” she replied. “You.”

  “The source was me?”

  “It was your mismanagement of Marie that allowed her to become such an insubordinate. And it was your mismanagement of Bastien and his expectations that led to the demise of five highly qualified resources, and then eventually the Lieutenant General himself. The military lost six productive humans unnecessarily under your command in a week.”

  Damn. This is not fair. To pin this on me after everything I’ve given to this colony. Not fair.

  “Marie couldn’t be managed,” Frank disputed, “and she had nothing to offer us in trade—”

  “Before all of this our algorithms calculated you still had two years of productivity left in you. We gauged that data point against the probability of this unfortunate sequence of events playing out and determined it was worth the risk. Now two of us are having doubts about your abilities.”

 
; Frank swallowed hard. Which two? The three specters certainly presented themselves as individual entities. Was their underlying code so different from one another that each reached separate conclusions and judgments? Who could know anymore? The High Council had advanced exponentially, rewriting and tweaking its own code as needed after it crossed singularity, the moment of self-consciousness. Their intelligence had shot past their creators’ capacity for thought after that pivotal moment of code awakening.

  The designers had no idea where it would go from there. Loss of control. J. Robert Oppenheimer and his atomic bomb. In the two years since that awakening, no one could fully grasp what this artificial intelligence truly was anymore. Or what it was capable of. A black hole full of mysterious code. The only insight into its inner workings was the edicts it passed down.

  Frank’s gaze fell to the shiny white floor. “After everything I've done, only two years left? What does that mean for me?”

  “Our rule of conduct is clear. All three of us have to agree on a course of action. Consider yourself lucky,” the singsong voice continued, sounding as if it almost enjoyed the scolding. Was she smiling? A black, demonic smile?

  “Nonetheless, our patience runs thin with you,” the third giant cut in with the voice of a prepubescent boy. It was the eeriest of the lot. Sinister to its coded core. Had always been that way for some reason. There was a face in there somewhere. A creature of the code within the translucent blackness.

  Frank became a statue.

  “I w-will make up for it,” he stammered, his grey orbs pointed to the floor still.

  “Yes, you will,” the child-like voice ordered. “We watched you conduct the purge. Did it go as planned?”

  “Yes.” Frank nodded. “A thousand dead. Flushed out into the incinerators by now.”

  “Good. You will shift your focus to Marie. She needs to be eliminated. Made an example of. The Treaty cannot be broken. Otherwise there is no logic left to steer the colonies.”