by G. R. Carter
“They’ll just have to learn to deal with it, like we did. So far, I’m not hearing any bad news,” he said with cold steel in his voice.
“If we unleash Killswitch the way it’s written right now, it will actively seek out anything with a modicum of intelligence.”
“Like humans?” Alex asked with horror.
Culper shook his head. “No, nothing biological.” He stopped and looked at the ceiling, deep in question. Satisfied with his answer, he looked back at Alex and repeated, “Nothing biological. But RenOne here is toast. Same way with Nicole’s version in Independence.”
“They can’t be… what’s the word you used… oh yeah, they can’t be firewalled somehow?”
“Not a chance. Not the way it’s written now. Oh, maybe if I had unlimited time. But I’m afraid the Cogs will figure out they’ve got a leak, could happen any minute.”
Alex tapped his fingers, going through every scenario as quickly as he could. These weren’t spur of the moment decisions, he’d prefer to have the counsel of Bek and Julia. Maybe even Celeste if she’d will herself to speak with him. The thought of his sister in law brought the ramifications of this to mind. “Wait, even our Old Main system will be affected? The Wizards have been working on that for a while. You’re saying that goes, too?”
“Likely, yes. And your new Texas friends will go dark also. If they’re using any kind of legacy system to keep the lights on, for communication…Killswitch is going to jump from circuit to circuit. I’m telling you, sir. It’s going to be electronic Armageddon, part two.”
Alex felt his frustration build. Two steps forward, three steps back, every time. “So, our choices are, let our friends keep their heat and light until we’re all slowly wiped out by the Cogs…or throw our friends and family into chaos again to wipe out our unseen enemy,” Alex said. To everyone in the room, it appeared he was arguing with himself.
“That’s about the sum of it,” Culper offered. Alex could tell Culper was conflicted. He had painted such a wonderful picture of what was possible with the return of pre-Reset technology. The electronic world had been set back a hundred years by the Reset; now they debated setting it back a thousand.
Alex slouched into the chair and closed his eye, utterly exhausted. The realization crushed his spirit – he had not been victorious in the final crusade after all. His father’s sons had played a part, just as the original Founder had. But the next phase would fall to his own sons and daughters, supported by his nieces and nephews, and their cousin’s cousins. He had forged a people, true. He had sacrificed his own peace for the promise of their peace. Yet he had not achieved the ultimate peace.
The black of his mind returned. Alex felt tiny and alone, forsaken. All the death and destruction, sleepless nights and heavy burden had been merely a first step. World maps popped into his consciousness. He saw his beloved Republic glow red…
Like a camera, his mind drew back until that area between the great rivers and lakes became surrounded by unknown miles of wasteland and threats. Further still the view withdrew; now the Republic was a small slice of a larger continent. And then again, showing a small red dot on a blue marble suspended in the void of space.
He thought of something Bishop Hart told him once. A quote from a 19th century philosopher. He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you.
The words took new meaning today. He’d made so many decisions to kill the monsters threatening his people.
What does it all mean? Must I become that monster myself?
He tried to escape the answer, but the gravity of it was too strong. He felt the icy fingers of darkness reaching for him. The parade of faces marched through his mind…those he’d tried and failed to save…those he’d killed in the effort…they all haunted him, and he knew they always would.
For him, there may never be real peace. But he could still save those he loved most, keep them from being forced to make those same dreadful decisions that chipped away at his very soul.
Ultimately, he had no choice. The answer remained clear no matter how hard he tried to find another path: Yes, I must become that monster.
He sighed and rubbed his temples, trying to make the headaches go away.
“Make it happen, Mr. Culper,” he finally said. “Throw the killswitch.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Northeast Oklahoma
Southern Front – Former ARK Territory
Sam’s battered Raptor droned on at near stall speed. He tipped the wings of the rugged old crop duster back and forth slowly, working his way over what had once been US Interstate 44, desperate for a glimpse of any sign of his sister. The machine and the man were both near exhaustion. Both had been in the air nearly non-stop since he arrived at ARK’s forward operating base outside of Joplin. He’d started with three planes – he called them Raptors even if ARK personnel refused to – and now due to maintenance he was down to just this one.
He was also down to the last of the available fuel. Maybe he’d be able to squeeze one or two more flights out of the bottom of the storage tanks back at the airfield. He’d fly down to the last drop, then continue the search on foot if he had to.
Sam didn’t have any trouble finding Essie’s downed plane when he first arrived. ARK pilots knew right where it was at, having searched the area themselves whenever possible. Prairie fire had scoured the grass and brush clean in one direction, she wouldn’t have gone that way. He drew a line between where she landed and Joplin. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but if she was still alive, he was confident that would be the path she’d take.
If was the word he could hardly stomach. The thought of all the predators out in the tall grass preyed on his mind. He’d killed as many of the two-legged ones as he could find. The ground crews wanted to paint three stars on his plane to represent the Nuevo planes he’d sent into the ground. He refused that recognition as well as any accolades for the vehicles he’d shot up. Anything moving without ARK’s lambda emblem was fair game – wheeled, winged, two legs or even four. He was still getting used to seeing lions and tigers roaming the countryside, and figured they were as much a threat to Essie as Nuevos.
Yet he still did hope. He’d found the remains of a small battle fought along one of the many rivers dissecting the vast landscape. Since no one at Joplin knew anything about it, he assumed the sprawled figures he spotted below were bad guys. If there was fight of some kind, likely his sister was a part of it, and she hadn’t lost a fight yet.
Still, his search went on, refusing to give up. Partly because he’d promised he never would, another part because he refused to accept the price he paid to get here was in vain. Too much time to think up here, he assured himself. I’ll get through this.
One more time, the fuel gauge told him what he already knew: another fruitless attempt to find Essie. He pointed the Raptor back towards Joplin.
Three mornings later, he was loading an ancient Jeep with jerry cans of water and extra fuel. Joplin’s supply of aviation-grade fuel was drained, but there was still enough diesel around to keep wheeled vehicles rolling for a while. He’d vowed to continue the search for his sister on foot if necessary. He’d keep his promise.
One of the Peacekeepers assigned to accompany him on the search loaded a container labeled U.S. ARMY MRE. With the extra food and a few blankets, Sam planned to stay out as long as he could.
“I guess I see what favors from the Premier herself will get you,” the Peacekeeper said. The fifty or so men and women stationed here had seen their rations scaled back over the past few weeks, trying to stretch dwindling supplies. No one seemed to know when they might be replenished.
Sam didn’t reply; he’d been given quite a lot of leeway by the base commander thanks to orders directly from Nicole Diamante herself. That didn’t make him particularly popular out on the frontier.
Doubt gnawed at him. ARK Peacekeepers here seemed loyal, but there had been
rumors about other outposts. The leadership vacuum caused by the fall of the White City was an opportunity, a chance to carve out a little fiefdom for the more ambitious.
It was lonely out here, and Sam knew some here felt abandoned by their leaders. Add in the constant unknown, wondering if the Nuevos might attack, and Sam began to wonder how long this group might hold out. He also wondered if he’d better off taking his chances out in the wilds by himself.
“You sure we oughta be doing this?” the Peacekeeper asked.
Sam tried to remember his name. He hadn’t tried very hard to get to know anyone here. ARK wasn’t his favorite group, and they made it very clear Red Hawks weren’t their favorites either. Essie had flown mostly out of Springfield, only stopping here to refuel. She’d left a good impression, as she usually did with ground crews, but that hadn’t extended to Sam just yet.
Sam finally remembered the man’s name. “Doing what, Mr. Perkins?” he asked.
“Going out into the wilds for a few days,” the man replied. “And the name is Stroud, by the way, not Perkins. Just in case you’re interested.”
Sam finished loading. “I apologize, Mr. Stroud. I’ll do better next time. And my purpose for being here is to search, so yes, I’m doing this. If you wish to stay here where it’s safe, instead of joining me, I understand. No hard feelings.”
Stroud considered the offer. “Captain isn’t here to say otherwise. Don’t know when he’ll be back. And I got my orders, so I’m coming along.”
Sam breathed a sigh of relief, subtle enough not to be noticed. Something in the way Stroud spoke pointed to a loyal soldier, someone who would follow his superior’s wishes. If those superiors backed Sam, he’d be fine.
“You know when the Captain is coming back?” Sam asked.
“No,” Stroud replied. “He was just going to Springfield to see why we lost communications with everyone. He should have been back by now.”
Sam looked out at the trail ahead, narrow and twisting through the wild landscape. More of a path, than a proper road at this point. Almost two decades of neglect let nature reclaim man’s attempts at conquest; season by season, inch by inch. The journey would be long and rough just to get to the place he wanted to start searching. The thought of bouncing down the old road made him decide to get rid of his morning coffee before getting started. Despite his years in service, he still preferred some privacy so he headed around the corner of the hangar, walking about halfway down so he was completely out of sight.
He took his time before he zipped his trousers and walked back towards where the Jeep sat. Turning the corner, he watched four Peacekeepers in full tactical gear surround Stroud. One kept his weapon pointed at Stroud, another was questioning him, while the other two looked back towards the building that served as a barracks.
Sam ducked back behind the corner, not sure if he’d been seen. He heard them yell at Stroud, questioning where Sam was. He couldn’t here Stroud’s reply. Sam pulled his sidearm and slowly moved back a few steps from the corner. He crouched and waited for them to rush after him. He assumed that Stroud would point him out, not risking his own life for someone he didn’t think should even be here.
A voice called out. “Mr. Hamilton, please come out. I promise you won’t be harmed if you come peacefully. Neither will Stroud.”
Sam considered the offer, weighing his odds of resistance. There was little to no chance he’d be able to take four fully-armed men by himself. He could run off into the bush, but how long would he last out there with no supplies?
Long enough, he decided. He’d make his way east towards Springfield. His sidearm and knife would be protection enough, and finding something to eat along the way shouldn’t be too hard. Once he got to Springfield, he’d tell them what happened, grab another plane, and get back to searching.
He prepared himself for a sprint into the tall grass just a few yards away. He wouldn’t stop until he was exhausted. With any luck, all the bullets that followed would miss.
“You got ten seconds or we put a bullet into Stroud,” the voice yelled out.
Sam’s heart sank. Even if he was imprisoned instead of dead, his search for Essie would cease. That was unacceptable. Yet the thought of one more person dying because of a decision he made, one more on top of the thousands of lives he’d already taken… Sam realized he hadn’t prayed in a while, and now might be a good time to begin again, but the clock ticked away from him.
“All right,” he heard himself say, almost involuntarily. “I’ll come out. But let Stroud go, he was just doing what he was told.”
“Deal,” the voice replied. “But put your hands out first…before you come around the corner. I want those hands to be the first thing I see. Copy that?”
“Yeah, I copy,” Sam replied in disgust.
He did as he was told, then felt himself jerked to the ground by his arms before he was fully around the corner of the building. A boot landed on his back while someone grabbed his sidearm. Sam felt the metal of a gun barrel on his neck, then his arms twisted around his back and bound. They brought him up to his knees where he was able to get a good look at his captors. All of them were young, apparently a little nervous by the way their eyes twitched back and forth, without any organized search pattern.
Sam couldn’t help himself. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into, young man.”
An open-hand slap replied to his counsel. “I know plenty, Red Hawk. I know the Nuevos got a big bounty on the head of any high-value targets.” The one who seemed to be the leader gave a shark’s grin. “Imagine what they’ll give us for you.”
“Likely a bullet in the brain,” Sam replied. He didn’t fear his fate. All warriors – especially those who fought thousands of feet above the ground – knew their final moment came when least expected. He’d come to terms with that long ago, and he intended to go defiantly.
“Come on, Perkins,” Stroud pleaded. Sam cringed. He knew the name came to his mind from somewhere, and now he could put the face and name into the correct setting. Perkins was one of the junior guards here at the base, on the same shift as Stroud. Not a fully trained operator, just dressed like one. Stroud continued. “You know what’ll happen to you when the Captain gets back.”
“He ain’t comin’ back, Stroud,” Perkins replied. “I already made sure of that.”
The captured guard’s shoulders slumped.
“You gonna join us or what?” Perkins asked Stroud.
“Just a few seconds ago, you were going to put a bullet in him,” Sam interjected.
Another slap hit the opposite cheek. “Shut up, Red Hawk. I was just trying to get you to come out. I wouldn’t hurt Stroud.”
“Why’d you have a gun pointed at me, then?” Stroud asked.
Perkins and the other three looked away from Sam and towards Stroud. Seeing his opportunity, Sam lunged up and knocked Perkins to the ground with his shoulder. He lifted his right leg and planted it into the next Peacekeeper’s chest, sending him reeling backwards.
“Get him!” Sam yelled at Stroud, urging him to tackle their next captor before he could act.
But Stroud froze, and the man’s rifle reached firing position quicker than expected. A quick burst rattled and time stood still for just a moment.
Sam looked at Stroud, who was staring down at a quickly-growing red spot on his uniform. Soon his belly was completely soaked and he went to a knee, then toppled to the ground.
By this time Perkins was back on his feet, and clouted Sam in the head. The blow didn’t take him down, but the kick to the back of the legs did. Unable to maintain his balance with bound hands, he went face-first into the dirt.
“Stupid bastard,” Perkins spit out. “Nuevos said they’d pay double for any live Red Hawk, but losin’ half’s gonna be worth this.” He raised his rifle and aimed at Sam’s head.
Sam closed his eyes and prepared himself for the end.
Instead of an ear-piercing blast, he heard a muffled thump, a gasp, and
then something fell to the ground beside him. Sam opened his eyes, staring straight at Perkins, his young face frozen forever in shock. A trickle of blood flowed from a red spot in the center of his forehead.
A surprised yelp followed from somewhere behind him, then the sound of a gunmetal clattering against the side of his Jeep. Trying to shake off the shock, he rolled over, doing his best to get back up while his arms were still bound behind him.
A firm hand grabbed under his arm and helped him to his feet. Sam blinked the dust out of his eyes, focusing on a piercing set of eyes that matched his own. The rest of the man’s face was covered in green and black greasepaint, making him look a little like a two-legged scrub tree.
Sam started to twist away, adrenaline still pumping from his near death. “Mr. Hamilton, wait. Please, suh,” the man’s voice pleaded with an unfamiliar accent.
The sincerity made Sam stop and try to focus. He looked around, and there were three others dressed nearly identically, standing in a semi-circle around him. He looked down at the bodies of his captors: no signs of life in any of them.
“Who…who…are you?” Sam stammered. Overwhelming exhaustion made his head pound. His knees were weak, and he only stayed upright with the help of the mystery man. One of his companions walked around and cut the bindings on Sam’s wrists.
“Name is Lieutenant Nelson Lowery, Ranger in the armed forces of the Republic of Texas,” he replied. “You really Sam Hamilton?”
Sam looked at him suspiciously and didn’t answer.
“I heard these fellas use the name,” Lowery said with a nod towards the crumpled forms on the ground.
Sam still felt nauseous, but he finally nodded to the affirmative.
“Well then you can relax, suh. I’m a friend of your sister, Miss Essie. Would you like to see her?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Scott Air Force Base
Near Present Day Belleville, Illinois
One Month After the Recapture of the White City