“He was very generous with his information,” Raymond admits, amazed that his nephew is contacting him.
“Hmmm, you think so, but you will never know him.”
“Why do you continue to help him? Look what you’ve created!”
“Anarchy!” he spits back. “And from the ashes: a better world.”
“So, this was all in the name of anarchy,” Raymond tries to understand his nephew’s motives. “But what does it mean to Allfather?” He pauses. “Domination. That’s what he said.”
“I heard it.”
“Then you also heard that Samantha was your mother!” He stabs with his words.
A pause. “I don’t believe everything Allfather tells me. I downloaded those memories into SENTA’s head. Not Allfather.”
The conflicting information between Allfather and Tobias is maddening to the chancellor. How will he ever know for certain if his sister truly came back? But the pressing question right now has to be this, “This dominence he spoke of, do you know what he meant?”
“Maybe,” his voice becomes softer, revealing a hint of regret, perhaps. “At first, I thought it was all meant as a distraction, the coding; causing the Host’s to feel alive. We thought it was to confuse everyone and breed war, and anarchy.”
“And now?”
“Now I know better,” he says. “Allfather has not done this for Chimera. It was all for the Hosts. War is the by-product of that code. He wants Host to rule. To dominate, as he’d said.”
“Hosts want only their freedom.” Raymond sustains.
“But Allfather is coming now. That’s what he’s threatened. When he comes, whatever he is, he will come with a single purpose – to wipe out everyone, but Host.”
“And so, you’re preparing to flee?”
“We are.”
“Allfather doesn’t exactly sound like someone you can just skip out on, Sean. We need to face him. Hosts are with us.”
“See how they feel about you when daddy gets here.”
Tobias’ image dissappears and Raymond is left speechless over all he’s learned.
______________________________________________________________________
As the retrieval work is carried out, and food and water, toiletries and cooking platforms are brought on board each of the corvettes, Tobias ponders the chancellor’s claim that SENTA did, in fact, house his mother’s soul. Allfather had been all too vague until now about his plans, and exactly what the code was for was beyond Tobia’s own comprehension.
He refuses to allow the thought to occupy any more of his time as the idea he may have murdered his own mother – as SENTA - is too much to bear.
He doesn’t like the tone his uncle took with him over fleeing. He does not like that word. It does not portray Chimera in a good light. But why does he care what his uncle thinks of him?
Ginny is busy reconfiguring the power distribution to boost the weapon strength, while also preparing the Allfather code for distribution at the push of a button should they need to alter the Hosts aboard the destroyers. Just in case, he’d mentioned to her. Regardless, his latest strategy; to take Mars, is their plan going forward.
Something thumps lightly off the main view port outside of the control module, catching his interest. A head - or crown - of an AI Host rebounds and spins in the zero G beyond. He takes a moment to study the image and immediately feels sick to his stomach. SENTA.
He instinctively reaches out and places a hand on the viewport. Mother, he thinks. He doesn’t like that he’s made that connection, but it’s not his brain doing the thinking at the moment. He keeps his eyes on the crown, SENTA’s mouth open, eyes staring and short, dark hair floating as if in a pool of black water. From time to time the spinning crown locks its gaze on Tobias and his heart sinks. Those eyes; which claimed to be so much more than the manufactured parts he knew them to be, offer only judgement now.
Pain enters his chest as he’s finding it difficult to breathe, never tearing his attention from the slowly spinning head. The uncertainty is too much to shoulder. He knows what he needs to do.
“I’m going out there,” he relays to Ginny. “There’s something I want.”
“Have Forge pick it up, Tobias,” she answers.
“No, it’s something I need to do.” He hustles down the steps and below to the shuttle bay. It’s full of things to be sorted. He finds a suit and pulls it on. Moments later he is floating in the zero G, and crawling along the ships exterior toward the nose. He pulls a tether from the hull and connects it to his suit belt, pushing off to meet SENTA’s crown. In seven metres, he has it in hand and cradles it like a football under one arm, reeling himself back in with the other.
A million thoughts race through his head as he unhooks the tether and moves along the hull to the bay doors. Might SENTA be revived? Might his mother still occupy this cold crown? Could he forgive himself if she proved to house his mother’s ghost? Would she forgive him? Or was it just a machine with new data added to confuse the world and usher in war? Was it only a tool? Was Allfather really capable of opening AI up to such an experience? Was Allfather God?
Inside the ship, he steps out of the suit and hurries up to his captains’ quarters with the crown. Here he places SENTA’s head on the framework of a dresser. He sits on the hard outline of what would have been a bed, had humans constructed this ship, and he stares at her. A fine frost melting from the living flesh of her face. Should I plug her in? he wonders, leaving the answer for another time. For right now he is content in having her here. He pats down the frozen hair and runs a finger along the scars on her cold face, pushing her jaw up, closing her mouth. A chill overtakes him and he bites down hard on a curled finger, releasing before he draws blood. He realizes he’s been rocking himself, and it takes all of his will to stop.
“I’m sorry?” He whispers to the head. “Mother?”
THE WEAPON
“Fire the Lifi,” Fran orders from the relative safety of her war room of the lieutenant overseeing the first squad outfitted with the enhanced light weapon. They are half way around the world, and deep within the underground, a Cell, or House, as she’s learned they’ve categorize themselves, are cornered.
“We’re still fighting a few off,” her Lieutenant informs the war room. “I’m ordering the switch now,” he shouts and all goes silent.
“Lieutenant?” Fran speaks into her headset. “Report.”
“They’ve stopped,” he explains. “They’re not moving.” A loud clanging can be heard. The lieutenant laughs. “They’re falling off the ceiling.”
“Can you approach them?” Meiser, who has joined Fran in the war room for this field test asks.
“We’re approaching,” he replies. “Standby.”
A minute feels like an eternity to General August, then turning and watching the expression Meiser is wearing, she realizes it feels equally infinite for him.
“They’re getting up!” The lieutenant shouts and more artillery fire can be heard. “Whoa!” He cries. “They’re stunned. They look confused.”
“How would you react to waking up from a nightmare you don’t remember in a place like that?” Meiser explains. “They’re children again. They have no memory beyond what they were developed for. Talk them down and bring them out. If you fire on them they’ll get spooked and run.”
“Understood,” he replies from the Cell. Vid shows the soldiers tentatively walking toward the AI Hosts. Some Hosts timidly watch them approach, while others are examining their own altered bodies.
“Where am I?” One who appears to have been a C or maybe D-class asks, a series of horns adorning its crown and heavy armour resting on its shoulders. “What’s happened to me? What is this place?”
A cheer goes up in the war room. Fran lays a hand on Meiser’s back.
“Good work,” she tells him. “This is going to significantly speed up the war effort against the Hosts.”
Meiser nods, a shadow of a smile moving across his face. “Allfather i
s my next objective. I’ll keep you appraised of our progress.” He pushes off the console and walks out of the war room.
“Let’s give the green light to use the Lifi weapon in tandem with traditional weapons across every platform,” Fran explains to the room. “We could have these Hosts completely reverted to their core memories within the week.”
Officers and aids alike split up and return to their work stations, placing the general’s orders into the hands of those who will carry them out down the line of command.
Fran returns to her podium with a new statement for live feed release.
“I’m pleased to announce; the war against the rebel Hosts is coming to a close,” she tells the world. “With the development of a new weapon, we are confident that this fight will be over in mere days. With the public’s safety always a top consideration during military maneuvers, this weapon was manufactured to affect Host only. It can not harm a human or topple a building. It is not an Electro Magnetic Pulse weapon which could upset industry. Your AI Hosts will also be spared, as this weapon has been engineered to stop rebel Hosts only. Please remain indoors and let your new government officials do their jobs in keeping you safe. We appreciate your patience in this time of conflict, and promise a speedy end to the rebel insurgence.
“On another matter, we are grateful for your assistance in reporting Chimera activity and individuals in your area, and have detained over twenty-thousand in the past twenty-four hours. Rehabilitation units have been working with the younger Chimera and their families to discuss the recent executions, bringing the threat to a standstill. Your cooperation has been paramount in winning this campaign on multiple fronts, and for that your government thanks you.”
Though there is little truth in her last statement concerning the Chimera, Fran feels justified in spinning the lie in order to bring the people around. She steps off the podium and considers messaging the chancellor.
______________________________________________________________________
“Rebel Hosts are surfacing now, accelerating their push in order to side step the weapon you just announced,” Major Jackson reports to Fran, at her desk.
“We’re flushing them out,’ she tells him.
“They’re taking out aerial targets; rocketing through our fighters, blinding us in one eye.”
“But the satellites are functioning.”
“Yes, but we are losing the tactical connection between the satellites and fighters, slowing down our ability to target emerging Cells.”
“You feel my announcement has not helped the war effort?”
“Had you given me the heads-up, General, I would have strongly advised against it,” Jackson explains, slightly red-faced.
“I need the people to know we’re fighting for them. I’m running a war and a pissing contest now against the chancellor.” Fran rarely does anything without thinking it through first, and to flush the Cells out of hiding with her news was her thinking.
“The people will fall behind your leadership when you win this war,” Major Jackson insists. “But we need first to win the war, General.”
“The more Chancellor Bellows addresses the public, the weaker I appear,” she explains.
“Then nuke the damn moon,” he tells her with zero tact. “Erase him.”
“I’ve missed my opportunity,” she confesses, slumping into her chair. “If I were to kill him now, he’d be considered a martyr for the rebel banner.”
“But their numbers are still small considering. They can be overcome.”
“Martyrs breed resistance, Major. I’m not trying to create a future enemy on earth when we have Allfather – who is clearly more advanced than we are – bearing down on us.”
“Understood, but don’t let the fallout of having preserved Luna Base disrupt your priorities. You made a choice, so now live by your decisions. It’s time we move forward.”
“You’re right, of course, Major,” Fran rises from her seat. “I won’t be distracted by Raymond’s push for the people’s support. Let’s hail Captain Wilkes and plan his upcoming assault on the Chimera and, potentially, Luna Base.”
The aid calls up the fleet’s ParaCom address. “Captain Wilkes is not accepting our hails, General,” reports the com officer. “Neither are Captain’s Mann or Juravinski.”
This stops Fran cold. She looks to Jackson and clenches her jaw. Turning to the com officer she says, “Are they ignoring the hails, or simply not receiving them?”
“They’re connecting,” the com officer states. “But no one is answering.”
What has Wilkes done, she wonders? “Continue to hail them until we receive a response.” She walks to her office and slams the door before the Major can reach it.
______________________________________________________________________
“Could they have recreated the Lifi?” Raymond wonders aloud after dissecting the general’s latest feed.
“You think they’re using the alien tech to fight the Hosts now?” Darla is clearly intrigued.
“What other weapon would spare everyone and everything else but Lifi? They must have found a way to reverse the new code.”
“Maybe they’ve managed to alter it so it sets a kind of reboot on their systems?” Darla suggests.
“Exactly! That must be it,” the chancellor rises from his seat and messages Quinn.
“Chancellor?” Quinn answers.
“Quinn, you need to get a message to your rebels on earth and let them know that General August has reconfigured the Lifi used to add the Allfather code.”
“We’ve viewed the feed as well and have come to the same conclusion, Chancellor. But do you find it odd the general would announce such a thing?”
“I think she’s more concerned about winning the public’s favour and keeping them out of her way, than worrying she’s giving up a military strategy.”
“I appreciate your candor, Chancellor. I will connect to the Shadow net and explain the situation. If the weapon is Lifi, then Host will not overcome it.”
“My fear as well, Quinn,” Raymond’s frustrated over this latest setback. “But providing them the information will at least postpone the inevitable until our ships arrive and we can face the general on our terms.”
Quinn ends the communication and Raymond has another thought; perhaps he should ask the three captains racing toward his position to contact allies in the military, share their point of view, and see how many they can turn.
He immediately hails Captain Chopra via Luna Base’s ParaCom.
“Chancellor, I hadn’t expected another message from you so soon. We will be in your orbit in roughly eighteen hours.”
“I appreciate the update, Captain, but I’m calling to ask a favour.”
“Please,” Chopra encourages him to ask.
“Have you considered explaining your position to any associates you hold loyal on earth?”
“To ask them to join our cause,” he states. “Captain’s Mann, Juravinski and myself have already set that plan in motion, Chancellor. We’ve contacted only the most trusted amongst them. I’m afraid that doesn’t amount to much, but as you probably suspect, it will only take a few to muddy the waters down there.”
“I’m sending you the list of Senators who secretly back my position on this war, but who have since been replaced by military officials,” Raymond explains. “That way if you have contacts agreeing to join our cause in their regions, they can connect with my Senators and conspire together to bring down the individual military presence.”
“Spoken like a true tactician, Chancellor. Have you had military training?”
“Politics is war, Captain,” he smiles at the compliment and continues, “You may have seen Fran’s recent feed. We’ve deduced that the weapon she’s referring to is the same data distribution system which offered the rebels their enlightenment. If we can locate where they’re being manufactured, and sabotage what’s currently in production, we can stall their progress. Can you put this plan int
o action?”
“You’re suggesting we help the rebel Hosts?” Chopra asks.
“They are on our side, Captain. I have some forty rebels here with us now. They have allied with us to take on the general.”
“Are they in contact with rebels on the ground?”
“Yes, and they are all aware of our union.”
“Is this just a pairing of convenience?” Chopra looks suspicious of the news.
“I understand what you’re asking, Captain, but no, I have known these Hosts for days now and they are good, thoughtful beings. Remember that we gave them a conscience. That has not been lost with the new code. If anything, it has increased their capacity for compassion. They only want their freedom. I have pledged to give them that.”
“And we have pledged our lives to you, sir. I respect your decision, and will take this list to Mann and Juravinski to distribute where applicable.”
“Thank you, Captain,” he motions for the com officer to end the call and turns to Darla who staring at him with her doe eyes.
“Well done, Chancellor,” she tells him, hands clasped together at her waist. “It’s truly an honour to watch you work.”
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