She felt an odd sense of camaraderie with the man she’d known only as an enemy.
“You knew him well. Even back then. Didn’t you?” She could sense that Micah wasn’t repeating facts he’d read elsewhere; he’d experienced this story first-hand.
He merely nodded. “The second problem for Phoenix was similarly troublesome for them. There were many non-Select with skills they needed to carry out their plans. The vast majority had some exploitable weakness, easy enough to identify if you have the kind of data on every living soul that Phoenix does. They’d threaten the lives of loved ones, even kidnap them and demand as payment the results they required. Wesley was different. They could find nothing on him. No lover, no family, no pets, nothing. He couldn’t be blackmailed or extorted into helping them, and more critically, into keeping secret what he’d done. Many died at Phoenix’s hands soon after completing their work, because Phoenix knew they’d tell the world. Wesley was one of those people. As an avid listener of his podcast, you’re well aware that Wesley had no qualms of speaking painful truths.”
She’d thought no one else knew of Wesley’s encrypted podcast. “Guilty,” she said, shrugging. It barely mattered now. “He would die rather than help them, and they couldn’t blackmail him into aiding them and then keeping silent.”
“Phoenix isn’t against utilizing torture, either. But they couldn’t torture Wesley into working for them; they might well damage his mind to the point that he could no longer be of use. So… they did something unique.”
“Which was…?”
“They lied to him.”
“Lied?”
He nodded. “They’d come to understand that I’d already been compromised.” He held up his hand. “Don’t ask me what that means right now; I’ll tell you that part at another time. Suffice it to say that they knew I’d play along. They set up a clandestine meeting with Wesley, me, and a few others, telling him they’d been working on a tool for disarming the enemy, and eventually the West as well. They’d built a machines so small that they could smuggle them into the East. The machines could travel unseen to a predetermined spot where weapons stores existed. They could then remotely trigger the devices to dissolve those caches, leaving the enemy unarmed.”
“Sounds like the Ravagers.”
“That’s because it was the Ravagers, several iterations before what you’ve seen the last several days. They just… modified a few details, telling him what he wanted to hear in a way that would encourage him to solve the problems they faced. And it worked. Wesley believed his efforts would lead to full disarmament of both East and West, and do so in a fashion that didn’t allow either side the chance to retaliate before those weapons disappeared. It was his chance to fulfill his fondest dream, and he responded in magnificent fashion, solving all of their technical issues far faster than even the most optimistic estimates. He turned over the code he’d built, thinking he’d just saved humanity from self-destruction through war.”
She felt her jaw drop as she recognized the implication. “He never knew the truth?”
Micah’s eyes drooped. “Never knowing the truth would have been a kindness. You can guess what happened. They took his code and made the relatively minor tweaks necessary to create the Ravagers. The Phoenix are a cruel lot, Sheila. They had to lie to get Wesley’s help, and in their minds, that’s like asking. Like begging. It just wasn’t done. And so they opted to destroy him because his mind put them at a disadvantage, and for that sin he must suffer.”
She didn’t want to know, but she asked anyway. “What did they do?”
“They invited him in for a demonstration, an opportunity to see his creation in operation. He came with me, incredibly eager to see what he believed to be a precursor to the end of war. The Phoenix went all out for him, building a small town surrounded by Diasteel walls and a water-filled moat. The model town featured houses, a few business buildings… and people.”
She felt faint. “No.”
“Yes. The people in the town were those who’d threatened to talk once they’d finished their work, threats only murmured in private. But we know there’s no privacy with the Phoenix. They thought they were getting a special vacation.” He paused. “They had Wesley activate the Ravagers cache and… well, you can imagine what happened next.”
She felt an overwhelming sense of regret at her past treatment of Wesley. She’d never known he’d suffered so much in pursuit of a goal she found admirable. “It’s hard to believe the Phoenix would do something like that, Micah.”
“This is a group that thinks nothing of killing millions to clear the land for a new house. One doesn’t do that without having the capacity to abuse the mind of a man so committed to peace by making him an unwitting accomplice to the greatest act of war ever perpetrated upon humanity.”
She sighed, realizing it was true. “I’ve never had much use for Wesley, always thought him a danger to the rest of us in the Bunker.”
“So you told me on many occasions.” There was a hint of humor in his tone.
“I regret that now. If I could, right now, I’d apologize to him. And I’d even give him a hug.” She hung her head. “But now he’s dead.”
“We don’t know that yet. I’ve got some tracking mechanisms set up to watch for human activity in and around the city. There’s enough movement to suggest at least a handful of survivors. Wesley’s a resourceful guy, and his insanity made him tend to see catastrophe in every situation. I would be more surprised if he died in the Bunker than if he was talking to Whiskey right now.” He frowned. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Phoenix helped, unlocked the suppressed memories of his role in all of this, and then made him watch it all unfold, just to drive that final stake through his heart.”
Sheila shook her head once more at the boundless cruelty humanity could display. She wondered if such a trait was one of the sought-after characteristics for the Phoenix, given its apparent abundance within the leadership ranks. “Thank you for sharing Wesley’s story. But you didn’t answer my original question. I agree, at first I’d think you insane for telling me such nonsense. Yet you convinced me you were a robot with a visual demonstration. Why not do something similar, sooner? You could have taken me to the island in the lake and transported me here. Why not try something like that? I know there must be a reason.”
Micah sighed. “It’s difficult to fathom the reach of Phoenix’s information gathering capabilities. It’s even harder to understand the sophistication of their ability to search that information for patterns. I’ve seen those skills in action, Sheila. I’ve seen enough to know that if I’d done anything that would lead you to accepting the truth, you wouldn’t reach that conclusion before their agents would be at our location and locking us away.” He shook his head. “No, they’d kill you and tear me apart for research purposes.”
“You’re saying they could track us here?” She waved her hand around, indicating the island. “Isn’t it a bit far outside their usual territory?”
He shook his head. “I’m saying that they’d intercept whatever communication I used to tell you the truth, or my invitation to meet me at a boat that would get us to the lake island. We never would have left the shore.”
She felt a chill. It seemed impossible. And yet… could she really deny that possibility after everything else she’d seen and learned? “How did you get to the lake island without triggering their curiosity, then?”
“There are many travel options open for sentient creatures who don’t require food or air.”
She sniffed. “Well, that was cryptic.”
“You aren’t at fault for any of this, Sheila. I spent the equivalent of decades looking for a loophole that could bypass the eavesdropping network of Phoenix and still result in their eventual destruction.” He bowed his head. “It won’t be easy to accept… but what’s happened is the most optimal outcome.”
She felt her face flush. “Millions dead and that’s the best—”
“My targeted solution was minimizi
ng the loss of life. Phoenix’s plan included incredible resiliency and redundancy; it takes someone with substantial knowledge of those plans to interfere with them in any meaningful way. In any other scenario—including telling you the truth, attempting to smuggle you here, and running a rigged contest in which you’d win the role of ‘General for a Day’ and have the ability to issue me comical orders from a suggestion box—in each case, they would detect my intent and either kill you, destroy me, or both, all before we could stop any of this.”
Sheila pointed at Ashley. “She was willing to sacrifice her life for the greater good, Micah. I would have done so as well.”
“Dying for some exulted sense of righteousness before we’re able to stop Phoenix accomplishes exactly nothing. Ashley did not walk into enemy headquarters and loudly shout her intent; she made sure that any risk in dying came only after she’d accomplished her goal. It’s no different now. I know you’re willing to sacrifice yourself for the greater good. I’m a machine; it’s difficult to understand that sentiment at the level of bits and bytes. But if I’m destroyed in this effort? I think that’s okay.” He glanced at Ashley. “I think it would make her proud of me.”
She could argue, she knew. She could find the loophole he’d missed. But he’d made the point she’d needed to hear. Perhaps there was a loophole. But he couldn’t ask her to find it without revealing his plans to the enemy, resulting in his destruction. Micah had tried. He’d made his decision. Reality now, terrible though it might be, was reality.
She moved to Micah and patted his arm. “I’ve no doubt whatsoever that she’d be proud of you. If it helps? I’m proud of you. And I’m as close to her as you’re going to find on this planet today, mister, so accept the compliment and let’s move on.”
He smiled and offered a small nod. “Thank you. Now that we’re freed of any imminent danger of Phoenix agents bursting through the door, I should note that I’m still operating under orders from a former colleague of Ashley’s.”
Sheila grinned. “I think I can take care of that. I’m told I’m the firmware whisperer.” She paused. “So… how does this work? What should I say?”
“First, I need you tell me that I’m always free to violate an order from any individual if I have reason to believe those orders are counter to what Ashley would want from me.”
Sheila cleared her throat. “Micah, I hereby order you, from this time forward, to ignore any command you have reason to believe is contrary to what Ashley herself would want from you.”
“And I need you to specifically countermand the order from the person now part of the Phoenix Group, telling me that I’m not to act against their plans or alert others to their intentions.”
She frowned. “Didn’t I just do that?”
“You only gave me permission to ignore orders given to me in the future, not those I’ve already been given.”
She nodded. Literal robot, he was. “Micah, I order you to ignore any past orders preventing you from acting against the interests of the Phoenix Group and its predecessors and any future groups of the like, regardless of the name.”
She watched as his eyes glazed over momentarily; she supposed that was the facial expression of a computer system undergoing a thorough upgrade to its most fundamental code. “Are you okay?”
His eyes snapped back into focus a few seconds later. “I’m fine. And your words freed me to act in a proper fashion.” He grinned. “I think Ashley would be proud of you, too.”
Sheila felt her face flush and glanced at the memory image of her ancestor. She watched as the individuals at the table all stood and headed for a door, noting with amusement the sudden appearance of legs for many of them. It seemed that the meeting had reached its conclusion.
The room returned to its original state, devoid of light and any sound other than her breathing. She found the silence and darkness disconcerting.
The door cracked open, allowing a blinding ray of light inside. Micah opened the door slowly, letting her eyes adjust. She heard the faint sounds of the seawater breakers upon the beach, the sound of the seabirds flying overhead, breathed in the sweet, fresh air.
They left the old hut with its out-of-place memory playback theater, marched across the spongy turf, and then moved back through the door leading to the underground laboratory. “Micah?”
“Yes?” His boots thundered down the stairs, and she felt the reverberations as she trailed behind him.
“Do you ever work outside when you come here? It’s so lovely that I think I’d avoid being indoors and underground as much as possible.”
He reached the landing and stepped aside before turning to face her as she finished her descent. “Much of my work involves computers and other electrical devices, which don’t mix well with sand. Or salty air.” He grinned. “Those issues apply to me as well.”
She felt sheepish, and a slight flush crept over her face. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Now that he’d made the point, she couldn’t recall ever seeing him spend much time outdoors. Or in the water.
They moved past the original portal room and neared another door. She heard a clicking sound, one she recognized as a disengaging lock. She’d not seen him do anything to trigger the sound; perhaps he’d communicated with the security system directly?
Micah pulled the door open, and she saw that it was metal, several inches thick, and looked incredibly heavy. Micah showed no signs of struggle.
“There are other reasons I work underground.” He motioned her inside and followed, letting the door close behind them with a loud thud. “It’s easier to build rooms with a lot of shielding when you’ve got a few feet of dirt, rock, and sand overhead. That will keep the vast majority of any snooping devices from locating us. We can’t be fully invisible, but we can make sure they don’t find us without a lot of effort.”
Sheila nodded and glanced around. The room reminded her of the basement lab back on the lake island, with a few notable differences. There was an empty slot for a single portal door, rather than a collection of dozens. The bundles of electrical cabling overhead were far denser and larger than any she’d seen back on the lab. Nearly every cubic inch of the space was filled with small plastic blocks stacked tightly together. Thick bands of wiring ran from each of the blocks; half terminated at the portal door, and the remainder flowed into a monstrously large machine covering the back wall. She studied the nearest block, noting the faint green horizontal light. It looked like a capacity gauge. A quick visual sampling showed most of the devices were about three quarters full.
She was in a room with a massive electrical generator and an enormous quantity of batteries that stored the ongoing output.
Micah moved toward a screen near the back of the room. The words “Phoenix HQ” appeared at the top of the screen, with another capacity gauge below, showing that the system had reached around eighty percent of the target. A timer below the gauge ticked down hours and minutes with large, digital, pale green numbers set against a dark background.
She understood. They didn’t have enough electrical energy yet to make the jump to Phoenix Headquarters. She glanced at the timer. Still many hours to go.
Micah moved beside her. “We need to accelerate our electrical energy production. That’s why I brought more small generators with me from the mainland and the island. I’ll rig them into the system, and that will help fill the batteries to capacity a bit more quickly.”
She nodded at the gap where all the cabling terminated. “The door you’ve brought along… that’s what goes there, isn’t it? It’s the portal to Phoenix Headquarters.”
He nodded. “I’ll get the door and the new generators moved in here and hooked up. It will still be several hours until they’ve reached the capacity required to send you.”
She noted the wording immediately. “Me? Just me? You mean you’re not going with me?”
“I’m going to Phoenix Headquarters, but I’m using a different mode of transportation.”
She felt lost. Suddenly
, she couldn’t fathom traveling anywhere without him. Nor could she understand why he’d want to take alternate transport when this one had proved to be so… immediate. “Why? What possible reason could there be?”
“There are two reasons, each alone sufficient to drive my decision. First, the energy required by the portal is enormous, and scales up as a function of both distance and mass transported. To put it more bluntly, we’d need to wait several additional weeks to get enough energy in the batteries to get both of us there. If we wait two weeks, the East will be gone.”
Something in his tone said he’d left out a critical detail, but she got the message. Sending both of them via the portal would invalidate their reason for going. “What’s the other reason?”
“Strategy. We’re heading into the heavily protected realm of the enemy. If we arrive together, we’re at risk of mutual capture. If we arrive separately, then they’ll focus on one of us and leave the other alone.”
Hopefully, she thought. He’d identified the best strategy given their predicaments, and there were no perfect answers. He wasn’t lying to her, but he wasn’t telling her all of the things that could go wrong. He was splitting them up so as to increase the odds one of them could both avoid capture and successfully transfer the new code. If the place was as heavily guarded as he’d implied, though, then splitting them up might simply delay the inevitable.
She brushed aside the sense of impending doom. “How are you getting there, if not through the portal?”
“I’ll show you. But before we leave this room, I need to make two points. You’ve figured this out, but the gauge on the screen will let you know when the charging is complete. This is critical, Sheila: the batteries must be completely charged to get you to Headquarters. If you activate the portal too soon, you won’t make it.”
Ravagers [03.00] Deviate Page 16