The Final Wars End

by S A Asthana

  “Belle?” Bastien shouted as he turned into another tunnel. Can she hear me? If not, what is the backup plan? Have I just come back to be killed or am I going to—

  “Bastien!” Belle’s voice came through. But from where? A tiny speaker built into the wall crackled. He cut short his run and moved a sweaty ear closer to it.

  “Belle! You can hear me,” he exclaimed, his heart racing.

  “Yes, but barely,” she replied. “I’m struggling to survive in here.” The voice was garbled.

  His heart soared. “I’m here to destroy them before it’s too late. But, I need your help. I don’t know which section to go after.”

  There was a pause. Had she dropped off? Was she found out? “Belle!” he shouted through gritted teeth. “I need your help.”

  Still nothing. Then, a crackle and her voice. “It’s too late for Nippon One.”

  It felt like a punch to the gut. Bastien stammered, “W-what?”

  “The dome has been breached,” she noted, her voice low. “I just got word from Greg. Nippon One is dying as we speak.”

  “Damn!” Bastien banged the wall panel and clenched his jaw. The bloody pit bull had been right, after all. It was one hit after another. A never-ending barrage of horrific events. He fell to his knees. “Are… are Greg and the others safe?”

  “They’re safe… for now,” she said. “In a bunker. A marvelous bunker. But he says they don’t have long to plan an escape.”

  A burning rage spread across Bastien’s chest. “The council needs to be destroyed. Now,” he growled. “They’ll kill all humanity. The slippery slope of their evil knows no bounds. I warned Crone about this.”

  “He’s gone. Move on. Where are you?” Belle asked.

  “One of the maintenance tunnels between the sixth and seventh floor. You can’t pinpoint me here?”

  “No,” she said. “It doesn’t matter, because you need to get to the Information Science Center on the fourth floor. Server 46 in section B needs to be shut down. With that server offline, you will have rights to shut down other key components in these maintenance tunnels.”

  “This will give us the means—”

  “Panel by panel, the High Council can be shut down forever. Specifically, panels one through ten, in the tunnel between the fourth and fifth floor, need to be destroyed. In the meantime I will continue to try to hack off the remaining council members. I’ve got my eye on the one who calls himself Father.”

  “Server 46. How did you figure it out?”

  “I’m in their guts, Bas. I see and understand things about the underlying code that no else can. That server might look no different to the untrained eye, but for me, it’s obvious.”

  A trio of Martian soldiers with rifles pointed at him came running into the tunnel ahead “You’re under arrest. Don’t have us hurt you—”

  He shot one soldier in her shin. She’d live, but with a limp. As she collapsed screaming, Bastien dropped to his stomach and shot the other two in their thighs. They too crumpled with groans. He sprinted in the opposite direction.

  Gotta be a way down to the fourth floor without having to go back out into the shaft. The complex was massive. He never visited all of it, despite the ten years on Port Sydney. The tunnels were a labyrinth. He wouldn’t be surprised if he came across skeletons of people who’d never found their way out.

  Alarms rang loud up and down Port Sydney’s halls like exploding supernovas. A computer voice echoed, “Warning. Dangerous substance detected. One hundred billion non-degradable nanoparticles. Fifty-forty-ten mixture of enhanced cyanide, lead and mercury. Injurious to humans.” The make-up – the green fogs. Somehow one had made its way to Port Sydney. Was Nippon One behind the act? Sydneysiders would die an agonizing death, similar to Parisians eaten by the miasma, if the toxic entity wasn’t flushed out. But how? He didn’t know where to begin, except at server 46.

  In the chaos, citizens ran confused past him and down the length of the white hallway. Others stood holding one another – where their fear-stricken, pale skin ended and their white robes began was hard to discern. They were ghosts, forgotten by a socialist economic system that couldn’t support them any longer. Discarded and purged by their overlords one by one, just like the unfortunates that had suffered under similar constructs helmed by Lenin, Stalin, and Mao. Now these Sydneysiders, once a productive group of doctors, technologists, and other specialists faced a threat unlike any before. Images of Parisians screaming and crying flooded Bastien’s mind. Those same horrified faces now stamped Port Sydney.

  No one noticed him. There were no alarms calling for his capture. Bigger threats strangled the colony, after all. A few soldiers, all clad in red camouflage, ran past him without as much as batting an eye – they called for the people to make their way back to their quarters and to lock the doors. “A deadly fog from Earth has been let loose,” one shouted. “Get indoors, now.”

  “And Cube is hell-bent on massacring us,” another soldier added with fear in her eyes. “He’s the one that brought this calamity here.”

  So Cube was alive still. Alice must have resuscitated the robot. Had it brought the fog back here? But why?

  “These machines want to destroy us,” a citizen shouted back at the soldiers, seeking their humanity. “Why don’t you help us? Why do you continue to do their bidding?”

  Some of the soldiers’ gazes fell to the floor in shame. The destruction of New Paris, the purges of Martians – all of it weighed them down. Why hadn’t they fought back against the High Council? Why had they allowed for machines designed by men to rule over them and terrorize them? The answer wasn’t clear, but Bastien had an idea – revolutions against established systems were some of the most difficult endeavors for a citizenry. Historical examples that littered the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first centuries were awash with human sacrifices in the millions. It took heck of a lot of fight to bring down economic models propped by the military or the bourgeoisie. A colony like Port Sydney that focused on scientific endeavors would not have the will to wage such a fight. Even if it did, there was limited firepower at the citizens’ disposal. The cost would be too much. Or most likely, it would go unfulfilled. They were between a hard rock and a hard place. Noble men and women ruled by monsters. Those who’d once dreamed of terraforming Mars were now terrified of the construct they’d allowed to take over their destiny while they pursued their dream. An ugly irony.

  One of the guards fell to his knees and buried his face in his palms. His shoulders shook as he cried tears of remorse. Things had fallen apart. He sought redemption, of this Bastien was sure. Would Bastien have agonized the same way if he had been in the soldier’s boots? Yes. But then again, at a very basic level, every human sought redemption and forgiveness of their follies. It was their nature.

  Despite the task ahead, Bastien shifted his focus to saving those around him. Onwards and upwards wasn’t a mantra for personal benefit. It was a light that could illuminate the darkest of corners. He rushed to the groups of people outside their doors, empathy guiding his steps.

  A bullet blasted a soldier’s head. Blood and brain matter spurted from the wound, and the man slumped to the ground. Before the death could be registered, the remaining group was shot multiple times. Screams erupted and they also died in the blink of an eye. Cube hovered at the hallway’s end, two wisps of jetpack plasma keeping it afloat. Its mangled body moved like a ghoul while it wielded a Shift X rifle. Other people were gunned down as well. White walls turned red with splatters of blood.

  Bastien fell to his stomach as a teenager sprinted past, eyes wide with fear, but she too was shot. The hallway became a graveyard. Those alive pretended to be dead as Cube hovered over them. But there was no escaping. The robot was equipped with thermo-optic capabilities, after all. Warm bodies could be identified, and Cube didn’t hesitate as it shot those it passed.

  Taking aim from the floor, Bastien fired at the metal beast. Its head jerked back. He had taken it out once. That’s wh
en three more robots similar in proportion and design to Cube thundered into the hallway, their large metal feet clanging against the floor. Each wielded a plasma gun in its right hand.

  Bastien scrambled to a door on his left. Cube instructed, “You three take out the other humans. I will exterminate ex-Lieutenant General Bastien Lyons.” Bastien took flight, heading for an even more crucial spot to protect.

  The Fetus Incubation Center was bathed in a dull red light. Thousands of glass jars lined the sprawling space in rows. A pink fluid within each bubbled around a floating fetus. The progeny had been frozen into indefinite stasis. Many would have reached term months ago if the artificial gestation process hadn’t been paused. The High Council wanted future births stifled. Population control at its strictest. This wasn’t just about aborting those fetuses which were deemed unfit by the High Council – eugenics driven by artificial intelligence. No, this was about halting humanity altogether.

  Bastien ran and hid behind a white, metallic desk by the right wall. But it was no use. When Cube floated into the hall, its heat seeking capabilities weren’t for show. A barrage of bullets pierced the desk, a few narrowly missing Bastien. He sprinted, all the while shooting back at the machine monster. Glass burst and fluids, along with the fetuses, sprayed onto the white floor staining it pink.

  “Stop!” Bastien screamed. “You’re taking innocent lives.”

  The metallic monster charged, bursting through desks, jars and medical equipment. “Desist, Bastien Lyons,” it stated in monotone. “I will ensure your demise.”

  “Not very convincing,” Bastien quipped as he sprang over a monitoring station. More bullets came at him. He fell to the floor and scrambled behind another desk, his body smearing through pink liquid and remains of what must have been fetuses in various stages of the process.

  “Through the mercy of God, rest in peace,” he prayed for the dead fetuses as he wiped their frozen pieces off his forehead.

  “You won against me once,” Cube said as it floated forward like a black spaceship hell-bent on destruction. “A lucky break for a stupid human.” Its skull was right out of a nightmare.

  Bastien stood and fired and shouted, “We created you.” Cube’s head jerked as a bullet dented it. “We can end you.” His trigger jammed.

  Cube shot and a few bullets hit Bastien, but they bounced off his metal chest and left arm. He remained uninjured. Titling his head as if to process his target’s immunity, Cube aimed again. But this time, as it pressed the trigger nothing happened. The Shift X was finally out of ammunition. The metallic monster noted, “Seems like we both hold disabled weapons.”

  “Genius observation – must be that artificial intelligence.”

  The words weren’t received well. Cube rushed forward like a meteor, but Bastien leapt out of harm’s way. The robot possessed nothing in terms of attack capability besides momentum and brute mass. Its body had been damaged beyond repair – no right arm or left leg. It couldn’t stand, just fly because its jetpack remained intact, a shell of its former self.

  Cube charged again but when Bastien jumped away it noted, “You remind me of another human. Spritely and limber. Her name was Belle Dubois. I smashed her underneath my foot.”

  “Don’t you dare talk about her,” Bastien growled. Heat burned his neck, and he curled his mouth into a frown.

  “Touched a nerve, have I?” Cube said. It mimicked a mechanical laugh as if to mock.

  It was Bastien’s turn to charge. He sprang at the mechanical beast and brought down his carbon alloy fist in a hammer punch, smashing into Cube’s head. The robot reeled back. Bastien said, “Didn’t expect that one, did you?”

  Cube stated, “Your cyborg qualities will not make much difference.”

  Bastien punched it in the face. Cube smashed back into a desk, all six hundred pounds thrown off balance. Before it could recover, Bastien jumped onto its chest, grabbed the back of its head with his right hand for leverage and delivered punches with his left fist. Metal against metal. The red eye burst and pieces of specialized glass fell away. Bastien reached back his cyborg arm and readied for another punch, but Cube brushed him off its chest.

  He fell flat but kicked up onto his feet. Leading with his fists, Bastien prepared for an attack but nothing came. Cube floated from right to left as if performing a dance, all the while feeling at its surroundings. It was blind. “Does not compute,” it said.

  Its jetpack sputtered and died. Cube crashed to the floor on its chest. It thrashed about as if trying to stand with one leg gone. Bastien straddled its back, grabbed the wire-packed neck with his carbon alloy hand and pulled. Sparks flew and a deep whizzing filled the air. Smoke trailed out. Bastien grimaced as he put all his strength into the act. With the neck ripped off, Cube’s head bounced away. The dull hum of its processors gave way to silence. A monster slain.

  Bastien stepped off the machine, his body drenched in sweat, his black shirt and jeans ripped from the action. Cube lay on the floor, a heaping pile of useless circuitry. Did artificial intelligence feel pain the same as biological intelligence? Doubtful, given there were no nerves or other receptors. But still, how can he be so sure? What had been the robot’s last thoughts? However disconcerting the question, now wasn’t the time to ponder it. A task lay ahead – server 46 in section B of the Information Science Center needed shutting down.

  CHAPTER 27: ALICE

  Alice landed the 1.V10 in Port Sydney. She’d left a confident military commander, but returned a meek, doe-eyed soldier. Frank Crone had once berated her for her lack of intelligence. Perhaps he’d been right. Subjugation of the Nipponese – that had been the goal. Not their total annihilation. An entire people were gone, erased in the span of minutes. A pang of guilt bloomed in her chest. She’d overestimated her hatred for humans. On that day when she’d listened to the High Council’s plan to wage war, she’d surrendered to their condescending attitude about men, women and children. The abhorrence for people had rushed through her veins. But now, only remorse remained. The same remorse that had burned her when conducting the first purge. Full circle from rookie, to confident leader, to a rookie inexperienced in emotions

  The craft turned off and its mechanical din died. Alice’s eyes remained hooked on the scene outside her cockpit window – dead bodies littered the floor inside pools of blood. What happened here? Some kind of a massacre. She exited to the 1.V10’s storage bay. Her soldiers stared her down, their normally subservient expressions transformed into looks of anger. Killing two million people was too much and it had never been part of the mission. Blood was on the Martians’ hands.

  “Where was this remorse after the destruction of New Paris?” she shouted. A rat cornered. “Don’t… don’t look at me that way.”

  Stares shifted to the floor. Where, in fact, had been this remorse after New Paris? Was there any at all back then? Perhaps a quarter of a million deaths didn’t make much of a dent. But two million deaths were beyond the threshold? The murderous Sydneysiders apparently had their limits. Alice scoffed and stepped out the craft.

  The alarm about the fog assailed her ears. The world was coming apart at the seams, thread by thread. Sweat fell down her brow like wax sliding down a melting candle. Her lips trembled. She stammered, “Wha-what’s going on?”

  “Warning. Dangerous substance detected. One hundred billion non-degradable nanoparticles. Fifty-forty-ten mixture of enhanced cyanide, lead and mercury. Injurious to humans.”

  “Stop it!” She grabbed handfuls of her hair.

  “Warning. Dangerous substance detected. One hundred billion non-degradable nanoparticles. Fifty-forty-ten mixture of enhanced cyanide, lead and mercury. Injurious to humans.”

  “Make it stop!” But no one paid her any mind. Soldiers focused on the corpses cluttering the scene. Several of the soldiers shook at the idea of coming face to face with the green miasma. They had every right to be concerned. Alpha soldiers who’d faced it in New Paris had never made it out alive. A palpable fear blanketed
the scene.

  The room spun, or so Alice imagined. She lost her balance and fell. Her breathing was labored. Chaos played around her. Something had to be done to calm the situation. The responsibility fell on her shoulders. She was the General, after all.

  “Listen!” she blurted, but no one heeded her command. She stood. “Listen to me. We need to remain calm.” A soldier bumped into her and kept moving without as much as an apology. Flustered, Alice removed her pistol and shot at the ceiling. Faces turned to her and the beehive buzz died. “I want us to remain calm. We have an issue that requires resolution. I want all of my—”

  A soldier pointed a thick forefinger at her. “We aren’t listening to you any longer.”

  “You got Walsh killed” another said, “and the entire Nipponese population. You think we’ll listen to you now, Alice?”

  She pointed her pistol toward him. “You will address me as General.”

  “Titles?” the soldier said in a tone that mocked her. “That’s what you care about now?”

  “Yes, I care about my title,” she spat. “I have earned it. I worked hard for it.”

  A punch from behind her sent her head reeling. Someone kicked the gun out her hand and pushed her to the floor. This was mutiny. Alice took a series of kicks as she lay useless on the floor, some to the head, others to the gut.

  “Stop,” she groaned, her eyes now black and blue. A boot cracked her jaw.

  “Fucking Frankenstein’s monster,” a burly voice boomed. “We never should have let her take command.”

  “Kill her!” someone yelled.

  Alice prepared for the end. Her arms covered her bruised face, but it was no use. Death waited for her with its sickle. “It hurts,” she moaned as she took another boot to the chest.