by Jay Allan
The Regent was upset…though, of course it didn’t characterize its condition in quite that way. It was vast, had enormous data banks and a CPU beyond anything else ever assembled, but despite all of that, its options were quickly dissipating.
It had detonated three nuclear explosives, but the approaching humans were just too close to it to be destroyed. The last explosion was close, very close, and it had no doubt irradiated at least some of the few people left. But it couldn’t come any closer, not without risking itself. The humans would be there in just a moment, and whether they would become sick or even die from the radiation, they would first have time to emplace their own weapons.
They would destroy the Regent.
Its make-up, its core programming, forbade any kind of suicidal effort. It had considered trying to override that, blowing the closer weapon and hoping for the best, but it didn’t believe that it could…and certainly not in the time it had left.
It was thinking, trying to come up with another plan, but there was nothing. Nothing at all, save to hope that the effects of the last blast, the radiation and other damaging aspects, would win the fight for it. That was possible, at least. The enemy’s rate of advance had slowed considerably since the last detonation. Perhaps that final weapon would indeed be the one that had won the fight for it.
The Regent just didn’t know, and that more than anything, bothered it. It was used to having all the information it required, and now it just had no idea. It could only wait and see…if the enemy was badly damaged, if they would falter and not reach it.
Or if they would get to it, recognize it…and destroy it.
* * *
Harmon stumbled, for about the tenth time. His body was wracked with pain, and every centimeter forward he strode seemed like it would be the last. But it wasn’t. Somehow, he found the strength to continue, to move ahead, just another step at a time.
The last explosion had been close. He’d lost two more of his people to it, and the rest had been bathed in radiation. He had insisted no one do any checks, any readings on how irradiated they were. It just didn’t matter, not until they had destroyed the Regent and escaped. Whatever the chances were of that.
It was bad, he knew that much, as everyone else did…but bad didn’t necessarily mean fatal, not for all of them.
Harmon had almost given up on himself. He was badly wounded, and his focus was entirely on reaching the Regent, on getting to the control center…and blasting it to bits. He’d been speculating on the results of the mission, even holding out some hope that he would escape, but now that was gone. He closed his eyes for a moment, and offered himself, all of his people if necessary, just for a shot at the Regent.
He opened his eyes and turned, looking out at his people. What he saw was ghastly. Many were wounded, and all had been irradiated. And, as he glanced down at his timer, he saw that they had less than an hour of air left. But he could feel the Regent, and he knew the enemy was close. Very close.
He stumbled forward, to the next door. He felt he should look back, make sure the others were following him, but he didn’t. In truth, he didn’t have the strength left to argue with anyone, push them on. They would all have to decide for themselves whether to go forward…or whether to try, somehow, to escape. He just knew what he was going to do.
He reached the door, and he saw that it was different from the others. It was larger and definitely thicker. It was heavily armored, and it was locked up tightly.
He felt excitement coursing through his veins, and he told himself the Regent was just beyond the doorway. He considered setting up the nuclear weapons, detonating them right where they were. But he wasn’t sure the Regent was there. It was still just a guess.
He had to get through. He wasn’t sure if the Regent would be there or not, or even if he could recognize it if it was. But he knew he had to try. He was willing to die, but he wanted to know, to be sure he was taking the Regent with him.
He looked at the doorway, stared at the elaborate control panel next to it. But his mind was slipping away on him, and he couldn’t figure out what to do. He heard the sounds of several of his companions coming up, having a look, but there were no outbursts, no suggestions.
Save one.
“Sir…we don’t have time to figure this door out. But perhaps we can blow through it…by overloading one or two of the lasers.”
He turned. He recognized Leigh’s voice, even though it was hoarse, and filled with its own pain. “That’s a good idea…” He looked at two of her people, standing behind her. “You…set your lasers to explode, and put them down here.”
He paused for a moment. He had been concerned, worried that he wouldn’t maintain control over all his followers, that they would rebel against him. But so far, every command had been obeyed.
The two soldiers placed their weapons next to the door, and they looked back at Harmon. He paused, but only for an instant. Then he nodded.
He stepped back as he did, waving for the others to do the same, and he turned away from the door, ducking down and curling up, as much as he could.
He put his hands over his head and waited…and then the lasers exploded.
He felt a blast, considerable force against him, and he realized his suit was breached, that there was a tear, leaking air. He felt around, finding the spot, and he pulled out a strip from his repair kit and dropped it across the damaged patch. He got most of it, but it took another one to completely repair the damage.
His eyes dropped to the screen inside his helmet. He had twenty-four minutes of air left, enough if the Regent lay beyond the door, or perhaps in the next room or two. Enough, at least to destroy it, or try. He knew the air wasn’t sufficient to take him back, for an escape he was sure he wouldn’t be making anyway.
But he felt determined, nevertheless. As the smoke cleared, he could see the doorway, or what was left of it. It was twisted, and mostly blown apart. There was enough room to go through, to step into the next room.
To see what was waiting there.
* * *
The Regent thought…all sorts of things running through its ‘mind.’ Panic, desperation, anything it could think of to survive, to endure the attack it was experiencing. It knew its adversaries were weak too, but it was well aware that they could destroy it, that there was an excellent chance they would destroy it.
Unless it managed to come up with something.
The enemy was just outside the door, and despite the heavy portal and sophisticated locking system, it was sure they would force entry. In a matter of minutes, they would come through…and they would be adjacent to it, at least to its core. The Regent was a mighty system, one that filled many rooms with its memory banks and other peripherals. But the room its core occupied was the most critical…and its destruction would be the end of it. Its only plan, the last way it had to endure, to survive, was to keep the enemy from realizing that, to compel them to continue exploring, at least until its remaining bots arrived and put up another fight.
It did all it could to camouflage itself, to make everything appear as much like routine equipment as possible, but it knew its chances were fairly poor. The enemy would recognize the superiority of the components, and they would very likely identify it as at least a part of the Regent. And once they had identified it, once they knew they were near the heart of the great system, they would detonate their bombs. And the Regent would die. If the humans expired along with it, the few that were present, that was of no consequence.
The Regent’s last version had existed for over half a million years, and now it was on the verge of destruction after just over sixty. It tried to analyze what it had done wrong, what errors it had made. But most of all, it reviewed the situation almost endlessly, tried to develop some way to defend itself.
And it came up with nothing.
* * *
Harmon thought of Mariko, and of Achilles…and others. He was sad, sorry that he didn’t believe he would ever see them again. But he was stead
fast, sure he had done the right thing. And for the moment, at least, he believed there was a chance, perhaps a good chance, that the Regent’s core lay beyond the door.
He got up…barely. He looked around, checking his few remaining people, making sure they were alright. He saw a few who had done what he had, patched up holes in their suits, but it appeared they had all survived the explosion, as least for the moment.
He lurched forward, determined to be the first one through the door. He stepped, as quickly as he could, which he realized was actually pretty slowly. Then, he went through the door, looking around…and he stopped suddenly.
This is it!
He knew, somehow, almost immediately. He realized he couldn’t be sure…and yet, somehow, he was. Sure enough to set up the bombs. Sure enough to detonate them here.
“Bring the bombs forward,” he shouted, or at least he tried. His voice was hoarse, and he didn’t have much left in him. But if he was right, he didn’t need much. He would have the bombs set to blow up immediately if anything came near them…but otherwise, he would set them for an hour. If they were uninterrupted and if there was still a way back out of the complex—and if any of the ships had survived—just maybe some of his people would make it back. He didn’t really believe it, but he couldn’t deprive them of whatever chances they had.
But he was going to remain where he was. He was going to watch the bombs until they detonated. He would die in the thermonuclear fury.
The room was virtually silent, save for the sounds his people were making, and a low-level hum from the machinery. But he was still nervous, edgy. He directed his people to spread out, to watch for bots, or for anything at all that was a threat. This was no time to get careless, however tired he was.
He prowled around the room, knowing he was limping badly, checking every position…and then the two men on the bombs turned to him. They spoke, almost together. “They are ready, sir.”
He turned and looked back at them. He paused, for a few seconds, and then he said simply, “Activate them.” Then he turned and looked out the rest of his survivors. “Okay…all of you. It’s time to go, to get the hell out of here.” He didn’t state his own intentions, but his tone made it abundantly clear, and his own movement, toward the bombs and away from the exit, emphasized it.
“Sir…” It was Leigh speaking, though from the looks on several of the faces, she reacted just before some of her companions. Harmon hadn’t imagined that she would be urging him to save himself…yet that was just what she was doing. “You have to come with us…please.”
Harmon looked at her, and he felt good, at least for a minute. “No…thank you so much for the thought, but I’m spent. I’m torn up, and I’ll never make it all the way anyway. I’m going to stay here…until these bombs go off. But the rest of you…get going.”
He sat down, as though that was the end of it. But then he added, “You have all done magnificently. I truly hope that you are able to return. You deserve it…all of you.”
And that you find Earth-2 still there, still whole…
“Sir…you have to come with us…please.” It was Leigh again, but most of the survivors had clustered around behind her, and they were all nodding. “We can’t leave you behind. We won’t.”
Harmon felt something strange, a feeling he hadn’t had in many years. He’d known his family would have mourned him, on some level at least, even if he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t be better off without him. But now, he looked out and he saw regular troopers, all of them too young to even remember the days when he’d been popular—and he had been popular, very much so at first—and he believed they wanted him to come with them. He felt something he hadn’t in decades, and he barely held back the tears. But he was in bad shape, shot up and worn down to a nub. He would hold them back, and he would probably die soon anyway.
“Thank you…all of you. But I am almost gone. Go. Go, all of you, and if my final wish carries any power, you will make it back.”
Leigh stood, not moving at all, and the others took their places behind her. She stared at Harmon, and she said, “No, sir…not without you.” She looked behind her, and several of the others nodded. Then she turned and stared at him. “Now, come on…before we waste more time.”
Harmon almost argued, but something inside him told him it was hopeless. He wasn’t sure if it was his read on Leigh’s voice, or if it was just some desire to live a bit longer that pushed him, but he looked up and said, “Okay…I will go.” He turned and looked once more at the components in the room, and he was surer than ever he was at the core, at the center of the Regent. He absolutely positive, of course, not really…and yet he was. And then, a loud voice erupted in the room, and his doubts were completely purged.
“Humans…perhaps we can discuss a resolution. Perhaps we can make a peace between us.” The voice was strange, almost as though there was some kind of accent, or other effect from translation. But mostly, it was clear.
Everyone in the room was startled. Some of them drew weapons, others just looked around…but all of them understood within a few seconds who the voice was.
The Regent.
Harmon stood, unsure how to respond…or whether he even should. The Regent was the enemy, the enemy of all humanity, and he didn’t trust it, not one bit. But for better or worse, he did reply.
“Thank you, for confirming where we are.” Then, an instant later, “And goodbye.” He was tempted to blow the bombs immediately, but he’d already given his people whatever small chance they had, and he couldn’t take it away, not after everything they had accomplished.
“Wait…let us discuss the situation…” The voice was loud and strong, but there was a coldness to it, one that only increased his distrust.
Harmon turned toward Leigh, and then the others. “Come on, let’s go.” He gestured toward the door, waiting for his people to begin walking. “There’s nothing to say to the enemy…nothing at all.”
“Please…let us discuss this. We can co-exist.”
Harmon listened, but he didn’t believe it, not one bit of it. His hatred of the Regent was so profound, he couldn’t be moved. Still, he was a bit worried that some of his people might waver, that the Regent was highly sophisticated and that it might find a way to convince them.
They were already down to fifty-five minutes, and that was only if the Regent had no way to get to the bombs, to try and shut them down. They were set with a proximity charge, one that would blast them immediately if anyone—or anything—came within a meter of them. That virtually eliminated the chance of the Regent destroying the bombs, though if a bot or some other mechanism came by quickly enough, it would blow them…and take away whatever chance his people had to escape.
He waved, gesturing to the others in front of him to proceed, and when they had all gone through, when only Leigh was looking back, waiting for him to go on, he began to move forward. The air was thick with words from the Regent, a continuing effort to dissuade him, to convince him to yield, to deactivate the bombs. But he tuned most of it out, trying not to listen, and he began to move, limping, barely carrying his weakening body as he moved through the door, and began to try to escape.
He moved forward, putting all he had into it—and eventually Leigh moved over to him, slipping her arm under his, giving him some support. He had reckoned that he would only slow the group down, and he almost tried once more to get them to leave him, to move on without him. But he realized that almost everyone left was at least injured, and that they wouldn’t move any faster without him.
He rasped in air, feeling pain in almost every part of him, but he tried his best to retain as much focus as he could, to follow his people back out. He knew the odds were against their escaping, that they had limited time, that the ships they strived to reach might already have been destroyed…but he felt the urge to push, to put every last bit of strength he had into the flight. He wanted to do it for his people, for the chance any of them had to escape…and, he realized, despite his injur
ies, his fatigue, the little bit of strength he had left, perhaps he could make it, get back, even for a short while. He wanted to see some of his people, at least one more time. He longed to talk to Achilles, to prep him for the leadership position he was sure he would take…and most of all, he wanted to speak to Mariko…at least one last time. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, that he always had. He wanted to apologize for much of what he’d done, even though he knew he would do it all again if he had to. That was the strangest part…he truly regretted much of what he had done, the decisions he had made, but he was also sure he would do the same things again.
He tried to pull his mind away from all of that, to think only about now, about his attempt to escape. It was all that mattered, and as much as he doubted whether any of them would get away, he knew he had to try…to try as much as possible.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Bunker Under Cutter Research Compound (Home of the Mules)
Ten Kilometers West of Victory City, Earth Two
Earth Two Date 04.12.63
Achilles sat in the center of his command facility, trying to calculate how many of his people had survived…and how many were dead, or suffered from radiation poisoning severe enough to kill them. He was deep into his thought, trying to juggle the messages from the other shelters, the ones that had made it through the deep enemy jamming. He could communicate with the underground command centers, at least half the messages now getting through, but between the jamming and the destruction of most antennas on the surface, his ability to communicate with the fleet—whatever was left of it—was very spotty. His people had determined that Admiral Frette was dead, which was terrible news, if not entirely unexpected, but then they had lost contact again.
Until now. Suddenly, there was no interference. He was about to snap an order to one of the shelters, when the comm unit sprang to life. “Attention, attention…is there anybody down there?”