The General's War

by Michael Poeltl

  “I appreciate that, Captain Chopra, but this is not the time to follow blindly. Reserve your loyalties for the people of Earth. They are who I represent. August’s war has devastated cities, and will soon do irreparable damage to our infrastructure. Her disregard for the safety of the public is in dire conflict with the oath you took to protect the people.”

  “It is a difficult thing to watch, Chancellor, but this is not a time to split humanity when machines threaten our way of life.”

  “The general’s actions pose a more damaging scenario then allowing AI Hosts to explore their newfound awareness. She is throwing away everything we stand for. Our very humanity is at stake!”

  “I have not spoken to the general recently, and had planned a conversation momentarily. Would you give me an opportunity to do that, sir?”

  “Of course, Captain,” Raymond pauses a moment to deliberate his parting words. “Please keep in mind; that if your fleet is capable of what I understand it to be, your decision could turn the tide of this war, one way or another.”

  “I am ever mindful of the position I’ve assumed in captaining this armada, Chancellor, and will not come to my decision lightly. Nor will I make it through a single, biased conversation. We are watching the feeds closely. I find it hard to believe that the other Generals and troops are following orders recklessly.”

  This closing argument, though intelligently conceived, leaves Raymond with a sinking feeling. Chopra signs off and the chancellor is ushered by an aid to look at the main monitor. Here he finds Fran addressing the world once more.

  “United Earth,” she starts. “I am General August, the ranking officer of the military arm of your ruling government. You may recently have watched as your Chancellor addressed you from our moon; where he has fled to avoid the war here on earth. We wish him well, and hope he is safe and comfortable, but having left his office, I have been forced to take drastic steps in escalating the fight against the rebel Hosts, with the safety of the public always top of mind.” Marketing-speak, Raymond thinks. They’re making him out to be the villain here.

  “The fight continues to go in our favour, but a new threat was uncovered in the darkest of places, the Shadow net; known for its contraband activities and synth-sex clubs. Those who work to protect its forbidden freedoms have long been known to hold anarchistic views, and gone so far as to alter their bodies with tech, divorcing themselves from humanity. They are known to us as Chimera. These new terrorist cells are responsible for many crimes against peaceful authority, and I warn you, what you are about to see may disturb you. I recommend shielding the eyes of anyone under the age of twelve from your screens and holo’s.”

  Multiple vids line the bottom of the screen now. Each one expands in its turn to full screen for a moment, so the audience can get their first glimpse of what a Chimera looks like. Though they are young, they have heavy armaments attached to their forearms, armour plating, and smart wires running along raised flesh to operate the tech. They offer a frightening sight. The emblem Tobias had dreamed up to represent their new race, emblazoned upon each ones’ chest.

  “If you know someone involved in this body-modification, you can use the contact information on screen to alert your local authorities.” The symbol, the same that adorns their chests, fills the screen.

  “This is their banner. It can be found throughout threads and feeds on the Shadow net, and even the World net. They brand these symbols onto their flesh and become Chimera. They stand for anarchy. They want war. They want rebel Host freedom. They want to rule over you.”

  This is a devastating blow to his own campaign. She is showing Chimera not as children playing with new toys, as the vast majority would be, but as terrorists who want what the public has. Nooses are placed around the necks of the Chimera in hundreds of feeds around the world. Raymond’s heart stops. She’s going through with it he realizes to his horror.

  ______________________________________________________________________

  Chopra watches the feed as his general paints the chancellor as a coward and places the mismanagement of the war on his flight to Earth’s Moon. They’re going head to head, he thinks. Politics. None of it amuses him. He is not one to revel in war, or times such as these. He entered the military freely to protect the ones he loved. He felt purpose in this position, and has made the most of it. He’s even supported the secret development of warships on the Moon and Mars if it meant heightened security for his family.

  He thinks on his daughter and two sons. The boys will be fourteen next year, and his daughter, a mother, in a month. There are exciting times ahead, and he’d very much like to be home when they arrive.

  “I have to say,” Wilkes announces to the bridge, the massive, barren room nearly producing an echo. “I like what the general’s doing.” He turns in his chair to face the captain. The gun-metal colors of the bridge seem to encourage a cold statement from the young commander, as if he needed prompting. “They’re stringing them up as we speak!” His insensitivity is not a trait Chopra finds endearing, but Wilkes is a good officer, he thinks, and will pilot this ship to the best of his abilities.

  “This is not necessary,” his com officer, Lieutenant Drake, confesses. Her brow furrows as much as it can under her blonde hair pulled tight in a bun. “I think she’s wrong to be executing people.”

  “They’re not people!” Wilkes insists, all the while smiling brightly. “By their own omission; they’re Chimera. Whatever the hell that is.”

  “It’s a metaphor,” Chopra explains, coolly, understanding the meaning behind the name. “They do not wish to conform to human ideals or interests anymore, and have altered themselves in protest. It’s nothing new.”

  “But do you think it’s punishable by death?” Lieutenant Drake’s compassionate plea prompts his answer.

  “No, I don’t. But, it’s the general’s decision. She is facing multiple fronts on a scale never before seen in earth’s history. It must be very taxing.”

  As the digital clocks count down on-screen, the captain receives an alert on his EC. Her ears must have been burning, he laughs to himself, thrilled that his daughter was messaging him.

  “Call me!!” The message reads. “They’re going to kill Thomas!!”

  His heart drops to his stomach. Thomas, his thirteen-year-old. Twin to Franklin. Who was going to kill him?! What?! He marches over to the com controls, using the ship’s communications systems to contact his daughter. Her tear-streaked face greets him and his crew.

  “Daddy,” she cries.

  “Hi, honey, what’s happening?” He hopes she’d typed the message wrong and had an explanation that wouldn’t alter their lives forever. The distress on her face tells him otherwise.

  “Daddy, on the screen. Thomas!” She cries again. “We didn’t know they’d taken him.”

  Hairs raise on his arms and the back of his neck. It couldn’t be. Speechless, he pulls the execution feed up next to the image of his daughter and punches in his home city. Another screen springs up to reveal a Chimera, a boy, standing stock still with a noose around his neck. Chopra zooms into the shot and focuses on the boy’s face. The digital timer counts down: three, two…

  “No,” he mutters. “No!” He shouts.

  He watches his son drop the metre through the floor of the gallows and the rope snap taught. It’s not shown in slow-motion, but every micro-second is registered in the captain’s - the father’s - eyes, as his son’s neck jerks at an unnatural angle, and a nervous twitch steals him away from his family, forever.

  His eyes remain on Thomas, swinging from the rope. He is stunned. His daughter cries frantically in the background. Where was his wife? Franklin? How has this happened?

  “Daddy!” Disbelief and grief converge unbearably in his daughter’s fractured voice.

  “Where – where is your mother? Where is Frank?” He’s running on autopilot.

  “When she heard. She went to the square.” She tells him in halting, pained breaths. “Frank, too.�
��

  “I’m – I don’t know what to do. I’m on my way home now.” His voice is hollow. He’s lost a son. He feels detached from reality. A numbness envelopes his senses.

  “Daddy, please come home.”

  “I’m coming home.” He’s not really here. He’s not.

  ______________________________________________________________________

  Hundreds of lives blink out of existence in one, terrifying moment. The chancellor falls back into a seat and raises a hand to his frown, heartsick. The screens are silent, the military media has obviously kept the volume muted to avoid the screams and pleas from the public, who’d gathered to stop a hanging, rather then support it.

  This will certainly further divide the world. He has to condemn this action publicly. He stands and walks to the podium and the commander’s com officer follows, setting the camera on him.

  “The barbarric act you have just witnessed was not necessary, it was unconscionable and your United Earth government condemns the action. On behalf of the World senate, I want to offer condolences to those families and friends, who have lost a loved one to General August’s witch hunt. I ask that you remain calm in this time of crisis. Outbursts and spontaneous acts of violence will not help our cause. Regroup. Heal. Do your part to support the cause for peace.”

  He walks off the podium before his voice cracks and appears weak to the populace.

  “Well said, Chancellor,” the officer says. “This address, like the one before it has been entered into several thousand threads across multiple groups and interests on the World net, as well as the Shadow net.” She returns to her console. “I feel like I’m in the middle of horror holo.”

  The com lights up and Captain Chopra’s handsome face fills the screen. His brown, weathered skin looks pale, eyes red, and mouth turned down at the corners. He appears defeated, Raymond realizes.

  “Captain, are you alright?”

  “Chancellor,” his voice is flat and muted. He clears his throat. “My son was just hanged in front of me.”

  “Oh, Captain, I - I am so very sorry.” Raymond sits again, his mind racing to catch up with this news.

  “Can you do what you claim?” Chopra takes a deep, deliberate breath. “Can you lead forces against the general? Can you win?”

  “I have every confidence, Captain.”

  “Then you have my ships to command. We will be in orbit above Luna Base within two day’s time.”

  “I’m sorry you had to come to your decision by way of this - tragedy, Captain, but I thank you for your support, and your ships,” he stands again. “If there is anything we can do from here to help.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m awaiting my wife’s reply. She was at the square hoping to stop the execution once she’d heard. I will wait to speak to her before I ask anything more of you.” Chopra closes ParaCom communications and Raymond slumps into the chair again.

  “Fran’s just made the biggest mistake of this war,” he tells himself, interrupted by the embedded com on his forearm. It has been buzzing constantly since his initial speech an hour ago, but he has had no time to review his messages. Perhaps now is the time, he reasons, looking down at his EC.

  Dozens of messages have come in from Country State senators around the world. They wish him luck in bringing down the general. They tell him they are happy he is alive. They ask how they can help organize a resistance in their state or city. Was there a secret thread to follow on the Shadow net? What was the plan moving forward?

  DAMAGE CONTROL

  “The fight for earth seems almost fruitless now.” Tobias tells his tribe via the suit’s com system. “Those executions will tame some but enrage others to action. There’ll be nothing left to rule when they’re finished with eachother.”

  “And those addresses from the chancellor and the general. They seem almost childish,” someone says. “He’s the bad guy, no she’s the bad guy.”

  “Politics,” Tobias growls. “Anarchy is the only way to freedom. The state is an undesirable, unnecessary and harmful entity. Self-governed people under the influence of simple laws, or none at all, are happier and more productive. Anarchism. That is the way to live.”

  He hears many voices cheer through the com and is glad his Chimera still appreciate the political philosophy that he advocates for his tribe.

  The group of corvettes have set down on the moon’s surface after they realized the Hosts had jettisoned themselves to Luna Base. With no original parts to build on in the corvettes, Ginny suggested they scavenge the moon’s shipyard for the atmosphere and gravity generators from the downed corvettes. Their approach was to disappear into the dark-side, then get low enough to just skim along a few kilometres above the rocky surface, and land a few hundred metres beyond the shipyards. They’ve managed to avoid detection, and bounced along the short distance to the ruined yard, entering the burst hulls of the corvettes which went down when they’d first lifted off.

  “Well, here’s the missing artificial gravity generator,” Ginny explains, tapping a large metal sphere marked as such. “Cords to the power source seem to be melted though.”

  “Could we hook it up differently?” Asks Bull.

  “Maybe. I’ve never seen this tech before. But, it ought to work like any other. The power source is just a power source. As long as I can transfer power to the generator, we’re in business.”

  “Okay, gravity is a luxury, what we need is the atmosphere working. Two hours left before it all goes black.” Tobias reminds them.

  Within minutes Ginny identifies the atmosphere generators from the schematics she downloaded to her brain-tech before they began this scavenger hunt.

  “Okay. We’re lucky. None of them took the energy beam directly,” Ginny explains, lifting one easily in the one sixth G and handing it to the Chimera who would head back to the ship to install them. “That’s three each. Let’s get back.”

  The group moves as quickly as they can, and once on their ships, have an hour of breathable air left to get the work done.

  The work goes quickly, and the generators are installed as per the original blueprints. One problem threatens to unravel the Chimera plans though; each of the cords which connected the units to their power source were ruined in the original attack on the shipyards.

  “Must have been electrical feedback from the lance fire,” Forge offers.

  “I’m getting a little panicked with this damn timer counting down the minutes of oxygen I have left,” Ginny complains. “I’m trying to think.” Tobias floats next to Ginny and wraps an arm around her.

  “Close your eyes. Take a breath,” he tells her. “These don’t need wires. We have wireless electricity transmitters.”

  “Yes, but for the amount of energy these generators take, I’m not sure a wireless connection could match it. Probably why they’re hardwired in the first place.”

  “So, we need to use more wireless jacks.” Tobias encourages her brilliant mind to concieve a way to make this happen.

  “Maybe.”

  “Do we have wireless jacks?”

  “Ask everyone to locate all the wireless jacks they can. I think we can get around this.” She smiles breifly at Tobias and he sends the command. In five minutes, they’ve collected over one-hundred wireless jacks across the three ships.

  “That’s about sixteen or seventeen per generator.” Sass explains.

  “That’s actually really a lot. I think we can do this. We’ll need to further isolate the units because this open transfer will amount to a deadly volume of energy moving across an open area.” Ginny removes what’s left of the hardwires still sealed into the outlets and and plugs the wireless jacks into the recepticals. The rest are fixed into the smartwalls and programmed to deliver the correct voltage. Soon oxygen is being produced and released into the cabin. This process is communicated to the other two ships and a similar procedure perfected to engage the gravity generators.

  As Tobias lightly lands with his feet on the steel floor, a feeli
ng of exhilaration rushes through him. The others find their footing too, turning in space as the gravity slowly reaches one G.

  Tobias removes his helmet onc his suit alerts him it is safe to do and takes a deep breath. “Great work everyone, Ginny, wow.” He watches her blush and take a breath. “Let’s make sure the rest of the ship still works as it should. That’s a fair bit of power being diverted from the other systems now.”

  “Looks like we might lose the lance intermittently. The atmosphere generator is pulling a lot of energy from the reactor,” Ginny notifies him, knowing full well he will not be pleased.

  “The weapon? That’s not good,” he paces the catwalk, noticing how the extra gravity plays on his joints. “We’ve overcome the odds already,” he suggests. “Let’s get these ships in orbit and scavenge the debris of the others for food and water rations, before we lose another day.”