The Crane War

by Graeme Rodaughan

  Her smartphone pinged. She glanced at the screen, a new address named, ‘Cornelius Crane,’ had been added to her contacts list. The phone pinged a second time, there was a short-encrypted text that read, ‘PRIORITIES: [1] Accelerate the rebuilding of facility #34 in Brazil and commence harvesting the fungus for the Day Guard serum. Establish five thousand doses within six months. [2] Accelerate the commissioning of the new East Coast Hub it must be ready to begin operations within three weeks time. (October the 2nd deadline). [3] Rebuild Shadowstone US and UK as a single organization under your command integrated with the Day Guard.’

  She thought to herself, I’ll build you an army. One capable of defeating a vampire king.

  Louise dressed herself quickly. She thrived on being at the heart of a revolution against a tyrant, a revolution that was long overdue. She glanced at the clock; it was too early to call the architect. He was notoriously touchy about being contacted before seven in the morning. She accommodated his idiosyncrasies; he was essential to the deployment of the new Panopticon at the East Coast Hub. She made a mental note to call him directly after seven am. The deployment of the new Panopticon needed to be accelerated.

  She’d been ordered to create weapons, and weapons she’d create.

  But with any weapon, the critical question was who had control of it?

  That was a question she planned to answer decisively in her favor.

  * * *

  The rain was little more than a light mist beneath an ocean of gray clouds.

  The architect ignored the damp beading in drops on his dark trench coat. Today was just like yesterday, and tomorrow would be the same. His beloved daughter was still dead, taken a day before her sixth birthday by cancer. He squatted next to her grave and placed an arrangement of flowers before the white marble of her gravestone. He paused for a moment, regarding the bouquet with empty eyes. He arranged the flowers on his daughter’s grave. Then pursed his lips, and rearranged them a second, third, fourth and fifth time. Finally satisfied with their perfection, he stood up.

  His daughter’s mother had left him before she’d died, leaving in a rush of suitcases and a yellow cab to live with her parents. He’d remained, witnessing the final months of his daughter’s fight for her life, and finally losing her to the cellular demon that consumed her from within.

  He’d buried her, and tended her grave every morning at sunrise without fail for the last six months.

  Her name was Rose.

  He’d always called her Rosie.

  He fully expected she’d live again.

  He knew a way to make it happen. Bringing her back was all he had left to live for and he’d been given a chance to do exactly that. An organization was funding his research, building the quantum processors, establishing a hyper-secure data center within his home city, providing him with the resources to create a genuine self-aware artificial intelligence. The first of its kind, an evolutionary leap from the AI emulations that were currently operating in the world.

  Little did they know that he was templating the new AI’s personality off his deceased daughter.

  Rosie would come back to him.

  Rosie would live again.

  Rosie would be a god.

  * * *

  The destruction of the Panopticon in Utah was central to Louise Wesson’s plan. She didn’t need a second system looking over her shoulder as she co-opted the new Panopticon and used it to guide an expanded Day Guard in the destruction of the vampires.

  Crane had kept his word. All her designated subordinates had reported in, the last was Gordon Heathmont from the UK division. He’d declared his willingness to serve in her organization with a candid humility that differed from the polished professionalism of the rest of the Shadowstone regional heads. She glanced at the wall clock; it was almost seven in the morning. She paused at her desk and practiced breathing exercises while she reviewed the Architect’s profile from memory.

  The man was a genius, a high-functioning mathematical savant and freakishly obsessed with the most minute details of his work. Her management technique was simple; keep him facing in the direction that she needed him to go and unleash him with every aid that she could supply. It was an approach that had sent the Panopticon replacement project moving forward in leaps and bounds.

  The clock ticked over to 07:00 and she dialed the Architect’s smartphone address. As always, the phone rang once. He wore a communications rig with ear pieces and a microphone when he was available for communication.

  He answered sharply, “I was expecting you.”

  Louise stated calmly, “We have a new deadline. The Panopticon replacement must be operational by the second of October.”

  “Morning, afternoon, or night? How am I supposed to work with such ambiguity?”

  “Midnight on the second will be sufficient - can it be done?”

  “Of course not. The new entity will not even be awake on the second.”

  “How much time can you shave off the original deadline? Cost is no object.”

  “The birth of the new entity cannot be rushed,” the Architect paused for a moment, “and nor should it be.”

  Louise frowned. “I’m sure my superior will not see it that way.”

  “The task will take more than three weeks. I have been monitoring progress closely. We should be ready to begin training the new entity against a number of adversarial emulations by the fourth of October, and she’ll be ready to begin operations three days later.”

  “She’ll begin training … it sounds like a child.”

  “… What makes you think she isn’t?”

  Louise paused for a moment, just what was being built at the East Coast Hub? The original Panopticon had a lot of AI capabilities, but it obeyed the instructions it was given. There was no hint it was able to think for itself, or that it was - alive. “Will the new Panopticon be able to think for itself?”

  “Don’t call her that name. It’s like comparing a bright child with a congenital idiot. The original Panopticon will always be the throwback Australopithecine, unable to compete with a generation of technology that surpasses it on all parameters.”

  “Your design exceeds our requirements?”

  The architect snapped. “Exceeds? Surpasses? … the two systems are no longer comparable, in fact the name ‘Panopticon,’ is an insult. The new system has a new name.”

  There was a long moment of silence.

  “… Yes?” Louise inquired carefully.

  “It’s the Rational Objective Sentience Interpolation Engine.”

  Louise spelled out the letters. “R … O … S … I … E.”

  “Yes.”

  “Just how sentient is this system?”

  “More than you can imagine.”

  “I can imagine quite a bit,” Louise said quietly. This was better than she’d hoped for. It was imperative that Crane and the rest of the vampires never found out how capable R.O.S.I.E would be - until it was too late.

  Louise thanked the Architect for his update and hung up the call. She leaned back in her chair. Her gaze drifting up to the white ceiling. Her mind spinning away into a field of tactical concerns impacting her strategy.

  One remaining question dominated her mind. How could she help the Mirovar force team successfully assault the Panopticon site in Utah? The site was a supreme vampire fortress and as close to a suicide mission as she could imagine. She rubbed her temples, perplexed beyond measure. The Mirovar force team would have to succeed without any aid from her. There was literally nothing she could do without giving her own position away.

  No, the Mirovar force team would have to defeat the strongest vampire fortress in existence and destroy the Panopticon on their own.

  There was no other way she could achieve her goals.

  Chapter Three

  “The scourge of the Mekra worshiping blood cultists has all but been wiped out, only a ragged few remain.” - Cornelius Crane

  * * *

  Northern China, September 1
1th, 19:59

  Mekra floated free of her Carpathian donjon.

  Her body lay senseless in its silver prison while her mind ranged over northern China. She’d acquired the ability to astral travel a mere six months ago. Her second transformation into vampiric perfection had been as sudden as her original transformation from human to vampire. Imprisonment in silver was an endless succession of sleeping and waking into darkness, broken only with brief interludes of lantern light and Crane’s blood slaking her thirst. Crane’s imposition of a dietary regime of vampire blood, constant contact with silver, and vast solitude, had taken her beyond a metabolic threshold and into a new realm of power.

  The sun descended below the western horizon; its rays powerless to harm her astral form. She welcomed the night like an urgent lover. She’d given away all attachment to sunlight millennia in the past, now she craved only the freedom and power of endless night.

  Her servant lay in a dark, cold place, well hidden from sunlight. His lair was marked by the red beacon of his sleeping mind. A mind she could easily find, penetrate, control, or destroy. Her mental powers of mastery were strictly limited to those sired from her new blood, but she could lightly touch his mind to impart motivation, or dive deep within, taking control of his body as if it was little more than a puppet dancing to her will.

  While Mekra had refrained from taking control of Akimitsu, she knew the extent of her new psychic powers as she knew how to breathe. When the time came, she would use them in full to assert her will upon the world. When there were thousands of her children and she was their undisputed goddess.

  She glided lower toward the bright lights of China’s leading city. How the world had changed during the centuries of her imprisonment. The Earth teemed with people - enough to run the rivers red with their blood. She’d spent the last six months watching, listening, learning, and planning for the moment of her release. Now the opportunity had presented itself, delivered by the hand of her warden. Crane had made a rare error of judgment, creating a son of her blood. One equipped with the power to evade Crane’s forces and free her from her donjon.

  Her vision tightened upon the railway yards and serpentine tracks near her offspring’s resting place. He was sleeping overlong, the place where he rested was too cold, subduing his normal alertness. Dark figures armed for war, were closing in on his position.

  Mekra swooped down to hover above his prone form, her eyes widened with alarm, she shouted into his dreaming mind, “Awake Akimitsu! AWAKE!”

  * * *

  Mekra’s voice resounded like thunder breaking against mountains.

  Akimitsu’s eyes flicked open to darkness and ice. He lay face down on the floor of a refrigerated shipping container. Above him, dozens of pig carcasses hung from hooks in frozen stillness. The steel floor was greasy with icy puddles of fat and pig’s blood beneath his face and hands. Mekra was gone. She’d only appeared in his dreams but now enemies were near - it was time to move. The sun had fallen and he could only hope that his relentless pursuers were far enough away that he could still evade them.

  He leaped to his feet, padding silently to the front of the container. He’d purposefully left the door shut but unlocked so that he could readily escape. He nudged it open an inch, his pointed ears twitching, his nostrils flaring, his eyes - great dark orbs - peering into a night lit bright by electric overhead lights. Ahead of him a horn sounded a single long blast. The train shook, metal grinding against metal as wheels began to roll. The shipping container vibrated momentarily, then settled as the high-speed freight train began to gather speed.

  Two pairs of boots landed on the roof above him. There were two of the older vampires stalking his carriage. Had they detected him? Had they communicated with their fellows? How many were lurking nearby? He couldn’t afford to be discovered. The train was already picking up speed, the wheels beginning to thrum beneath him. Soon it would be traveling to the west at one hundred and sixty miles per hour. His refrigerated hideaway just one container amongst hundreds destined for other parts of China and the world. The train offered the opportunity to break contact with his pursuers and cut days off his schedule to reach the Carpathian Mountains.

  Akimitsu kept perfectly still, his hands resting on the handles of the two straight-bladed ninjato swords crisscrossed over his back. The first of the pursuers leaped to the next container, the second pausing directly over his head. The moment stretched, the forward vampire’s footsteps came to a halt, followed by the unmistakable sound of a pivot. Akimitsu stilled his heart, becoming a silent void in the night. Above him, the nearest vampire’s heart continued to beat steadily and there was the soft susurration of a slow exhale.

  A slight variation in the track jolted through the wheels and the container’s unlocked door pushed another half-inch ajar. The polished black toes of a pair of armored boots appeared on the trailing roof-edge of the next container. The two older vampires were positioned opposite each other directly above the steel platform between the containers.

  The train gathered speed. The wind howled past, pressing the container door shut. They must suspect he was there. In a moment they would drop down and slam the locking mechanism shut. He’d be trapped inside. At best, he could cut and tear his way free - at risk of breaking his weapons against the steel walls of the container, but they’d be waiting for him, perhaps with reinforcements already in place.

  Akimitsu blurred forward. The container door smashed open, slamming into one of the praetorians who’d chosen the same moment to drop to the platform between the containers. He flew backward, bouncing off the other container and flying into the night.

  The train accelerated, the wind blowing with hurricane force past the containers. The remaining praetorian leaped into the space between the containers. He leveled a minigun at the ninja vampire’s chest and pulled the trigger. Bright fire lit up the space between them, hard shadows cutting along the edges of the two containers, 7.62mm rounds lancing toward him with a promise of sudden death.

  Akimitsu blurred right, his left ninjato spearing between the minigun’s spinning barrels. The weapon jammed. The minigun’s electric motor whined. Gears stripped themselves, blue smoke blooming around the base of the weapon. His right hand lashed forward, his second ninjato penetrating through the praetorian’s heart, sending a ribbon of blood splashing into the night. He pushed forward to the edge of the platform, his opponent falling free of his blades before whipping away as the train left him behind.

  He flourished his swords, ridding them of any trace of his foe. He may have won this battle but his position had been revealed. The full might of his pursuers would fall like a thunderbolt against this location. He had to leave immediately.

  Akimitsu turned and leaped from the speeding train, blurring southward into the darkness.

  * * *

  “How did you lose him?” Cornelius snapped, shaking his fist at the main screen in the war room.

  Haras Mosule flinched as if slapped. He rallied immediately, his eyes narrowing and he said firmly, “He had warning.”

  “From who?” Cornelius snarled.

  “Unknown, but he was able to ambush the two praetorians who discovered him.”

  “Are they still alive?”

  “Yes. One nearly died from a sword thrust through his heart. I don’t think this vampire knows how to kill other vampires.”

  “Yet.” Cornelius affirmed. “He doesn’t know yet. Still, he took out two of our men, and if he knew more, he would’ve killed them. Form your men into four-man squads. No pairs, no singletons. I want four of us in the fight when we next find him.”

  Haras nodded. “Understood.”

  Cornelius waved his right hand dismissively. “Or use a weapon with a broad area of effect. You’re authorized for surgical strikes from the shadowstar drones. Drop a pattern of five-hundred-pound warheads on him next time and make sure he’s gone.”

  Haras nodded again.

  “I’m sending upgraded weapons. Miniguns with flamers and t
hermobaric rockets. We can’t take chances that he might start siring offspring. It’s a miracle it hasn’t already happened.” Cornelius paused for a long moment, then commanded, “You have your mission, now get to work.”

  Haras slapped the left-side of his chest. “Yes, Sir.”

  Cornelius disconnected the call and the screen shifted back to a set of Panopticon feeds. He sighed, his hands dropping to the six-thousand-year-old Huon pine imported from Tasmania for the new war room table. He leaned forward, staring at the smooth butter-pale wood, his mind pursuing internal demons. He rose up, studying the feeds on the main screen and a dozen secondary panels. He assessed the disposition of his forces and began sending out orders. He moved all his remaining praetorians from standing roles around the world to Eastern Europe, seconding them to the command of General Dieter Franz. He added general-eyes-only commands to Franz to ready hypersonic land attack cruise missiles armed with nuclear warheads and to move all his forces into the Carpathian Mountains.

  General Franz and the forces he’d assigned to him would be the final defense of Mekra’s donjon. If need be, he’d attend in person. There could be no mistakes. The new strain of vampire had to be wiped out, even if he had to sacrifice Mekra herself to do it. His eyes darkened with ferocious certainty. He’d sacrifice half a continent if it was necessary, but why do that when a neat surgical strike could achieve the desired effect without revealing his hand to the world.

  His long right finger tapped the pale wood. It was essential to operate in secret. Untold damage had occurred in the last few months. Surely much of Shadowstone would begin to work out what was going on. They weren’t stupid, and nothing focused the mind on questioning the ‘official,’ truth like defeat and the death of comrades.