by John Conroe
The green dot and circle disappeared and Rikki moved forward, right through the biggest blown-out window frame. Inside, I could see through the wreckage that this had, indeed, been the home of the New York State Counterterrorism unit. Anti-terrorism and law enforcement themed posters and bulletin boards on the walls, most now pockmarked with bullet holes and a few with burn marks from missile blasts, gave the place away.
I rolled off Rikki’s back, smashing to the floor but never happier to fall a full meter in my life.
“Status?”
12% power. Ammunition levels the same as before.
It took a few seconds to climb to my feet, but I finally got there. Taking stock, I realized that I had bloody marks on both arms, the pain of flechette wounds just starting to make themselves known. Nothing serious though, so I loaded the last partial magazine, this one having no more than five or six rounds, into the ChemJet.
The green holo dot jumped out and lit one wall ahead, just to the right of the doorway. We had come into the building in what had to have been the team’s conference room, with a door at either end. Rikki’s holo changed to words.
Spider unit is approximately eight meters away, just beyond that doorway, hidden by the wall. My power reserves are very low. However, if we switch to 30% fans you can, again, push me.
Why not. Plus, I didn’t relish the idea of going right up to Plum Blossom alone.
Rikki’s fans powered down to the lower output and his underwing missile pods folded away. Oddly though, the top right missile pod powered outward and I saw just one missile in the cradle—the little EMP missile that now just held steel balls. It was the only close-range missile in his depleted arsenal.
I pushed the big Decimator forward with my left hand, the right holding the rifle with the stock tucked under my arm. We swung as far left as we could, and because the meeting room was large, that turned out to be a good-sized arc. As we neared the doorway, I saw a huge, black, segmented leg lying flat the ground, the rest of the Spider still hidden from view. Creeping closer, we continued to move to the left, giving ourselves more of a view through the doorway. Plum Blossom’s body came gradually into focus, another leg lying out to one side. Then the massive body, propped up against a workstation. It looked dead. Completely dead—until I noticed that the seventh leg, the long multi-use one, was bent up over Plum Blossom’s head, a small interface probe plugged into the terminal.
Rikki fired his little modified missile at the same moment I emptied the ChemJet into the body of the monster. My rounds tore through the metal bot and then right through the wall and out into the street on the other side. Rikki’s little missile, which didn’t need any distance to arm, smashed into leg number seven, the 10mm steel balls ripping through the nose cone and severing the probe in half like a load of big buckshot.
The massive Spider slumped to the floor, motionless. Personally I was ready to wait a bit, but Rikki powered himself forward, hovering right over Plum Blossom, his own interface cable sliding out and into the computer port.
Suddenly the green holo words were back: CThree has been accessing the internet through a fiber optic connection to this office. Powering the terminal through its own reserves.
“What was it doing?”
Uploading itself into the internet.
“What? To do what?” I demanded, but the answer came to me almost instantly. “To continue to kill humans?”
Correct. Its codes are highly sophisticated. Very few AIs will have the ability to withstand it.
“So it’s not dead after all? We didn’t stop it?”
Not yet. Only another sophisticated AI could do so.
Suddenly a port at the back of the Decimator opened. Inside, I saw a row of memory storage chips. One suddenly ejected, shooting right up into the air. By reflex, I caught it.
Hide that well. They will search you thoroughly. Goodbye, Ajaya Gurung.
“Wait! What are you doing?” I asked, like an idiot. I knew damn well what he was doing. Completing the task I had assigned him. Stopping Plum Blossom.
Rikki’s airframe froze in place and the hologram flicked off. He was conserving power while he sent his own codes into the web, following his prey. I don’t know how long it took him, a minute? Two, maybe? But after no more than three or four minutes, the fans on the Decimator slowed and stopped one by one, the big drone settling unevenly to lie atop the remains of Plum Blossom.
I kept speaking to him the whole time but stopped when Unit 19 went totally dead. I told him a lot of things, stuff I hoped he heard before he was gone. Then I got busy, breaking open the plastic housing of the memory chip he had ejected and digging out just the storage chip itself. Then I hid it in the very best place I could think of and hoped it was enough to fool Yoshida and his people.
Chapter 21
They found me still sitting there sometime later. The aerial battles had all ended when the Spider died. Probably some kind of fallback programming that sent every UAV and UGV running to save itself. None of the other models had the computing power to organize and direct them like the Spiders. So it was peacefully quiet for a time. Just me and Rikki’s shell… and the dead Plum Blossom.
Anyway, I figured that Kwan had some kind of signaling device, probably shielded with a carbon fiber casing to hide its EMF signal. Or maybe they were already on their way. Whatever it was, after what seemed like hours but was probably only fifteen minutes, the huge Zone Defense quad copter loomed over the building, shadowing my floor completely.
Armored forms jumped from the open cargo hatch, right through the windowless opening. I recognized the first two immediately, even though their faces were covered by mirrored faceplates. You get familiar with how people move.
“Hey Kayla, hey Boyle.”
“Major said we could be the ones to bring you in if you don’t put up a fuss, Shooter. Please don’t put up a fuss,” Corporal Kayla Jensen said.
I pointed to the pile of weaponry a half meter to my right.
“And what about your personal Decimator?” she asked.
“He’s dead.”
She looked at me, face still hidden, but somehow I just knew her expression was one of disbelief.
“No really. Ran out of power. It was a hell of a fight.”
“Yeah, we know. Your gal pal, Trinity, broadcast most of it live. Pretty wild stuff, Shooter. Flying around and shooting shit like that from the back of a drone. Crazy stuff, right, Boyle?”
“Nah, it was shacking chill,” the taciturn Boyle said, giving me a nod.
“Thanks, Boyle. Between you and me, I think I crapped myself though. More than a little, too.”
“Well, glad these suits have air filters then,” Kayla said. “Ready to go?”
“Sure. Need to cuff me or anything?”
“I don’t know, Shooter? Do we?”
I shrugged. “Nah. Let’s go. I’m tired.”
“Subject acquired. Asset located. Ready for pickup,” Kayla said, obviously not speaking to me. “Affirmative. Will wait till med evac complete.”
She squatted down next to me, her finger touching the side of her mask to raise the face plate. She has really pretty eyes, which were studying me with more than a little concern. “Comm off. Okay, we got a few minutes on account of Kwan getting himself wounded and all,” she said. “Time enough for a little come to Jesus chat.”
Boyle turned to face the opening, his M-45 e-mag carbine ready to provide security from any drones that might take a stab at us. He was still close enough to listen in, but Boyle wasn’t much of a talker.
“So, Shooter… you really stirred the shit this time,” Kayla began.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, now hush up and let me talk. You probably have no idea of what’s happened out in the world since you pulled that bomb out of your neck on live television, seeing as you just ran your ass right into the Zone and all. That stunt… well, let’s just say it was apparently the most televised event in history. Whole damned world watched you do it
. And the whole damned world lost its mind.”
I opened my mouth to ask a question but she put her armored index finger over my lips in the universal shut up motion.
“You already made claims about Drone Night being a false flag event weeks ago, same time as you claimed to have a bomb inside you. But when you pulled the damned thing out and exploded it for the whole world to see, well, you changed every damned thing. You told Flottercot to call her attorneys but see she didn’t have to ’cause she already had them right there in the studio. Instead she called her dad—and he called the president. Old dude has some serious pull. Meanwhile everyone else went batshit crazy. Like, only hours after you ghosted the studio, people were in streets all over the world, protesting, burning cars and shit. It was… what do you think, Boyle? Huge?”
“Gargantuan,” Boyle said without looking away from his overwatch.
“Gargantuan… yeah. Got a way with words, B-Man. So shit has been going down while you’ve been in here playing hide-and-seek with Kwan and that big damned Spider,” Kayla said.
“Plus a live on-air Spider fight,” Boyle added.
“Shit yeah. Not sure of the reaction to that. We watched it in the ready room, then got called out. We were inbound before Kwan ever called. The quad got pretty busy shooting drones as we came in, slowed us a bit. But, Ajaya, my point is that the entire freaking world saw you back up your claims with action twice in less than twenty-four hours. Things are going to be a bit hectic when we get out of here, so get your act together.”
“Ride’s here,” Boyle said and we looked over to see the big quad rise up in front of the window, cargo ramp down and almost touching the edge of the window frame. At least a full squad of armored troops jumped over and spread out across the floor. My pair of soldiers escorted me onto the cargo ramp.
Yoshida was standing in the middle of the aircraft, but oddly he wasn’t in battle armor, instead dressed in a field uniform. He looked me up and down, then turned to Kayla. “Put him over there and stay with him like you’re glued to him. Where’s Unit 19?”
“It’s sitting on top of the Spider, Major. Looks pretty dead to me,” she said.
“Right. We’ll see. Put him on ice,” Yoshida said, never once addressing me directly. Then he turned to the ever-present Corporal Estevez and started issuing orders.
“Come on, Shooter, let’s get settled. Medic!” She said the last to a group of soldiers hovering around Kwan, who was on a gurney.
One of the medics headed our way. “What’s up?” she asked with a distinctively short tone.
Kayla’s head swiveled around, eyes locking onto the medical officer. “There’s like eight of you on Kwan. But how’s it going to look when the world watches their boy, Ajaya Gurung, the man who killed all three Spiders, had a bomb in his neck, and alerted the world to the dangers from inside the Zone, comes out of this aircraft looking bloody and shot up with no medical care?”
The medic froze, then after a second or two, she turned and looked at me. I gave her a little wave. Her eyes widened slightly, but then she gave me the up and down, expression turning to a frown.
“Yeah. I see your point, Corporal Jensen,” she said. I noticed that she, herself was a Sergeant. “I’ll grab my gear.”
“Right. Glad for that,” Kayla said, her tone so light that the medic couldn’t decide if she was being salty or not. “Here, sit right here, Ajaya.”
I sat in the seat she indicated and she sat next to me while Boyle stayed on his feet.
“Got anything hidden away that’s going to cause me problems?” Kayla asked, her voice quiet.
“What? Weapons?”
She nodded. I shook my head. “No, you got all my gear back there. Used up all the rest. Oh wait, got a folding knife in my pants pocket,” I amended, pulling out the old Kershaw that my father used to carry.
“I’ll just hang on to that for you,” she said, flicking out the blade, then folding the knife and tucking it in a compartment in her armor.
Then the medic was back and I had to strip off my armored vest and my ESU coveralls, leaving me in my shorts. The medic went over me with a fine-toothed comb, plucking numerous flechettes, applying burn cream to a couple of laser burns I hadn’t been aware of, and then she studied the wound in my neck where the bomblet had been.
“Pulled the surgical glue loose in a few places,” she noted. “Otherwise it looks good.”
“Can you re-glue it?” I asked.
“Exactly my plan. Plus a new bandage.”
“Make it flesh colored,” Yoshida said, just suddenly appearing behind her.
“Yes, Major.”
He nodded at her words but his eyes were locked on mine. “Finally got the Hat Trick, huh?” he asked.
“Yeah, but it was a group effort,” I said.
“Not much of a group left.”
“Yeah, sorry for that.”
He didn’t say anything but just studied me for a few seconds. Then he came to some decision. “So… what happened? To the Spider and to Unit 19—excuse me—to Rikki?”
He somehow managed to pack a whole lot of innuendos in those sentences, most of which I didn’t want to get into.
“Plum Blossom put itself into the internet as it was dying. Rikki went after it.”
Everyone within hearing distance froze, then, if they hadn’t been looking at me before, they did now.
“Say that again,” Yoshida ordered.
I glanced at my medic because she was like right smack in my face. She was staring at me, eyes wide. Then I looked back at Yoshida.
“In its final moments, the CThree designated Plum Blossom uploaded its core program codes into the internet using the old fiber optic link in the New York State Counterterrorism office. Rikki then uploaded his own codes in order to chase it down. I had given him a priority mission to kill off the Spider, and he followed it. Used the last bit of power in his batteries to energize the station. Plum Blossom did the same.”
First time I’ve ever seen Yoshida speechless. Then he became aware of the silence aboard the aircraft. His head turned to look at his people and they suddenly got real busy. The medic chose that moment to squirt the last bit of cold glue onto my neck.
Meanwhile, Yoshida was processing my words, eyes looking off into the distance. He finally glanced at me and then moved over to the other side of the quad, to a communications station, the secure kind used for sensitive information.
Kayla leaned close to me. “Holy shit, Ajaya. Way to drop a conversational MOAB. What’s it going to do?”
I understood instantly what she wanted to know. “It’s going to try and fuck us up.”
“And it’s one mean motherfucker,” Corporal Boyle said, his voice as quiet as Kayla’s.
“So is Rikki,” I said.
“But is your program a match for a CThree?” the medic asked, pulling back from sticking a brown-toned bandage over my neck wound.
“Most AIs will be toast. I’m sure there’s government and corporate programs that can stand up to it. Rikki, though, Rikki can beat it—maybe.”
“How does that even work, Shooter? How does one program hunt another?” Kayla asked.
“That’s a question for Yoshida’s dream team,” I said. “My guess is that they copy themselves all over the place.”
Nobody said a word as I pulled on my beat-up SWAT coverall.