by Alex Kirko
The Council Hall was a white dwarf surrounded by the glass giants of family towers. There were no decorations, but the materials were the most expensive on Terra Nox, the road to it was paved with slabs of titanium-platinum alloy, and the building was designed to withstand an artillery strike with its shields off.
Davis pressed his hand to the panel to the right of the entrance. The mechanism clicked softly, and the door slid to the side. He walked in.
Dim light, warm air, and whispered conversations enveloped him. The noises, however, faded as he walked to the center. Twelve chairs were by the wall, and eleven were occupied. His own rested on a lonely ebony platform opposite the entrance. The door hissed shut behind him, and he heard the privacy systems kick in. High-pitched buzzing filled the room, and all his electronics displayed the “No signal” error message. Blake walked onto the center of the platform and nodded at the members of the Council sitting in the gargantuan chairs with the symbols of their positions on the wall behind them. Everything in the room was rich wood and dark polished marble. He hated bulky grandeur as an architect, but the other members had shut down all his proposals for redecorating.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. “As you all know, I am not a man of excuses. When we allowed Kyle Heatsworth to take control of Lankershire, we were guided by hope, and hope is a poor substitute for rational thought. We were promised a breakthrough in the Ascension technology that would let our race expand to the numbers we want. Instead we got this.”
He tapped his wrist, and an image flickered into being in front of him. The thing that stood there now had been a man or a woman once, but now it was a ten-foot behemoth of muscle, one arm five times the size of the other and a face that looked like it had been melted with a flamethrower.
“These abominations are what allowed him to take Seind even more easily than anticipated. And it isn’t enough for him to spit on the perfection of our form. He is also demolishing the society structure that allows Terra Nox to survive. Not only has he betrayed us, but he is also leading his own to ruin.” He turned to Soto. “Do we have any idea how he is selling this uprising to presumably intelligent people?”
Soto had been sitting with his head propped on his fist, but now he stood up, uncoiling with the fluidity of a waking cobra. He said, “From what my people been able to gather, he promises a new era of rapid development after all this.”
“We heard this before,” said Davis.
“Yes, but we didn’t know his professed plan. After defeating us, he wants everyone to work together to make Ascension available to whoever desires it.” One corner of Soto’s mouth rose in derision. “There is even talk that after he is done with Terra Nox, he will export the procedure to other worlds.”
A low rumble swept along the circle of Council seats. Akiha Ryuu, the mechanized troops general, was rubbing her left prosthetic arm with the corded fingers of her right, and her face looked like she was trying to remember what a frown was. “He’s nuts,” she said.
“The spies I sent to Lankershire only got so far with the resources you gave me,” said Soto. “They didn’t breach his inner circle. It might all be just a publicity strategy.”
Silence fell over the room as the Council broke off into separate conversations via their digital assistants. Davis stayed in the center, watched, and waited. Eventually, the talking began to quiet down.
Miriam Blackwood pushed her gleaming spectacles up the shaft of her nose with a skeletal finger, stood up, and said, “What has happened is irrefutable evidence that the system isn’t working, Chancellor. I had warned you time and time again that your policy was doomed to fail, yet you told this Council not to worry. Gentlemen, ladies, I propose we immediately start working on promoting permanent stay in virtual reality for adult humans as per my previous suggestions.”
She sat down, crossed her arms, and jutted her triangular chin toward him. Davis resisted the urge to sigh. He said, “Councilor, we are at war not because our centuries-proven way of life failed. We are at war because this Council, including me, turned a blind eye to the tyranny the people of Lankershire had been subjected to. We thought everything was under control. In fact, had the previous Count of Lankershire stayed in power, he would still be suppressing unrest in his region.”
“People don’t stay in power forever,” said Miriam.
He had her now. There was far too much of a bird of prey in her to stay away from bait. “Indeed,” Davis said. “The way we keep the human population happy is not flawed. We are. We chose to leave the tyrant in power, and then Heatsworth rode in to absolve us of responsibility. Don’t pretend you weren’t relieved to shunt the problem to him.” When she didn’t say anything, he left the center and walked to his chair. “The reason for our troubles was us not being decisive enough.” He sat down. “So I propose a radical solution.”
He pressed the command for contacting the outside. A warning bell rang three times and everybody went silent. A connection with the outside console was established. “Norman, would you be so kind to come in?” he asked.
There was a moment of silence, and the doors slid open. Norman ambled in. He was a scrawny kid, and this made his green ravenous eyes dominate his angular face. He got to the center of the circle, saw that everyone was looking at him, gulped, and motioned to the figure that walked in beside with him. It was a bulky white mech that looked like a distant relation of an assault model.
“What is this type?” asked Akiha. “I thought I knew all mechs the Republic produces.”
“A new suit won’t solve our problems,” said Miriam. “The pilots need years of training.”
Norman swallowed again and looked at Davis, and he nodded. The kid said, “Esteemed members of the Council. I present to you Type 36, a universal AI combat platform that doesn’t require a trained operator.”
Cries of outrage erupted at that, and everyone except Davis and Soto stood up.
“What is the meaning of this, Connelly?” asked Miriam. “Have you gone insane? You coerced some boy who doesn’t know better into violating the Kamarkvat Directive, didn’t you? We would be better off walking out these doors and marching on Lankershire right now!”
Soto asked, “Chancellor, perhaps it would be better if you explained what this is?”
Davis said, “Oh, I’m sure Norman can do a good enough job.”
The kid looked at each of the outraged council members in turn, his head buried in his shoulders as deep as it could be. Davis steeled himself and squashed the tension pulsating in his chest.
Come on, we talked about this. Just follow the plan.
Norman said, “We, we didn’t violate anything, at least anything I know of, certainly not the Directive—” He started to ramble but caught himself. “You misunderstand, this model doesn’t need a trained operator, but it still needs an operator.”
Akiha said, “Boy, I was piloting a mech before you were a dream of a dream in your grandfather’s balls. An untrained pilot interferes with the operation of a mech to the point that the machine becomes useless. You say you were able to overcome that?”
Norman nodded.
“How?” asked Akiha.
“Well, the first mech designs came from the Old Earth, and they were always optimized for maximum performance, so I thought, hey, why not optimize the system for minimal construction and training time instead.” He paused to take a large breath. “This model can’t use combat drones, but it’s cheaper and can be made combat-ready in weeks instead of years. The AI does all the work and the human is there only as a moral anchor.”
He gestured to the mech, and the suit took a step forward. It spoke in a pleasant, smooth voice, “Greetings, members of the Council. I am Type 36, personal designation AH-006. I possess the combat capabilities of a piloted mech. It is an honor to serve the Joint Republic.”
Norman said, “Terra Nox is full of people on welfare who fully support what the Council stands for. There are two million just chipping away at their lifespans in entertainme
nt centers, locked in some game or another and never leaving. Why not give some of them a different game to play?”
Davis nodded to Norman and stood up. He said, “This is the solution I propose. The specs of the prototype were just uploaded to your personal assistants. We will reconvene tomorrow to vote and approve the project.”
“But the people,” said Bradley the social welfare minister. “They won’t sign up for this.”
Davis waved Bradley's concerns away. He said, “If we implement this, we’ll replace the gamers’ presence online. We’ll pick the ones who haven’t socialized in real life in decades, so nobody will be expecting them to come out of their capsules. Many of them can’t do so, because they couldn’t afford the gaming option that protects muscles against atrophy.”
Norman said, “I ran the numbers, esteemed Councilors. A dozen employees with AI support can replace a thousand players, so that none of the other gamers will notice their friends are missing.”
Davis joined Norman in the center of the room and said, “These are trying times, my friends. We have been complacent for too long, and it made Terra Nox vulnerable. There are too many key infrastructure objects for us to guard. There is too much being published on the net every day for us to monitor. There are few redundancies, and most of our military power is devoted to protecting what we can’t afford to lose.” He looked at Miriam. “But there is hope. By giving these humans a way to pay society back for their lives of pleasure, we will gain access to thousands of new soldiers that can be dispatched in two weeks to take back Seind.”
Akiha said, “Give me this one for a field test. See how this toy compares against one of my men.”
“Of course,” said Davis.
The Council grumbled a bit, but eventually everyone except Akiha and Soto left. Norman took the mech outside, and the door slid shut behind him.
The three Council members looked at each other. Davis was the first to smile. He said, “I think they bought it. You did great, Akiha. I knew I made the right decision when I pushed for you being a part of this Council.”
“I’m glad you thought I was the right woman for the job—”
“Still are,” said Soto.
“Thank you,” she said. “But this was not about politics. Heatsworth has two cities, the Freefolk, and comparatively few mouths to feed. We can’t just hit him where it hurts and see his Federation crumble, but he can certainly do it to us.”
Davis stood up from his seat. “I refuse to give Heatsworth the chance to destroy all I’ve built. After we crush him, we will move on to the Freefolk. Good day, Ryuu, Soto.”
He left the Council room, the quivering boulder in his stomach vanishing. There were factories to check to find out how many combat platforms the Republic could produce in two weeks.
“Fucking politics,” he said to himself. “Assistant, make a note. I need to remember to talk to Akiha after she sees the schematics. We need a dozen random locations to draw the volunteers from.”
8
Art Lovers
Mortenton’s volcano filled their vision: a dark-green giant, ragged and ill-tempered. The supply town was six miles away, so it took them five minutes to run up to the slumbering colossus and start up the path—they had about half an hour left to move unnoticed. A mixed forest gave way to shrubs and coniferous trees, and soon only lichens clung to the eroded boulders along the path, adding specks of bottle green and blood red to the layered pie of volcanic rock. Red porous stone followed white, black followed red. Cotton clumps of clouds drifted below them, hiding the jungle where Mei was waiting for their return.
“Ryan, keep behind Drummond. And, everyone, slow down,” said Nat. “Mortenton is just after that ridge. I see a guarded supply train near the top.”
Blake stopped. He had the impulse to huff after running up the slope, but it passed. Their path wound its way up like a spasming snake. The ground still held the memory of seismic activity that had given birth to the Mortenton volcano eons ago, and the original builders had been afraid to mess with the cliffs and furrows too much. After all, it was only advanced technology that kept lava from spilling into the city after every minor earthquake—a weakness they hoped to exploit.
The road was boxed in by jagged obsidian crags on both sides, and he could see it straighten ahead. Where the path crested over the edge of the caldera, a squat robotized supply train was crawling its way up the slope, flanked by two mech soldiers.
Nat said, “Shit. Escorts have advanced scanners to check the goods, and if we try to go around, they or somebody in town might notice. Sheong, try to talk our way past them.”
“How? We are supposed to be lazy guards, heading into the city for a routine shift. I mean, I’m good, but their scanners can probably pick up that our self-destruct mechanisms are hacked.”
Nat said, “We have faith in your silver tongue.”
Sheong groaned and thumped his way to the gleaming silver cylinder of the last train cart. He hunched his shoulders and looked every bit like a guard who was bored out of his mind. “Hi,” he said. “Do any of you guys know where Ilkar the Terrible could be this at this hour? We need to find him, but he has somehow evaded all the cameras.”
The train guards turned away from the train, focusing on the mech in front of them. “Hello,” said the left one taking a step forward. “Never heard of him.”
“Oh, man.” Sheong voice lost ten years of age. He sounded like a recruit straight out of basic training. “He is this horrible—hence the name—painter. Uses acid with metal, and the landlord screwed up, so the ventilation went out for a minute, and all the work of the painter who lives above him got destroyed, and who knows where the acid could have leaked through, and our commander will—”
“Okay, slow down. Let’s hit the net and find where this Ilkar might be.” The man looked their group over. “Quite a lot of you for a chemical leak. And why did you come to us and not the senior officers in town?”
The train stopped, and the two guards moved toward Sheong. Blake stepped behind a weathered basalt boulder and turned on his stealth systems. He saw Nat order the rest of the team to stand between her and the train guards. She went stealth soon after.
“You take the right one,” he said over the intercom. “I’ll take the one that suspects.”
Blake stalked forward using boulders for cover and hoping that his suit’s systems and Sheong’s babbling would be enough to keep him hidden. The left guard activated his scanner beam. Blake ducked behind a rock and turned on the jammer.
He saw Sheong move closer to the two guards, shrug, and say, “They just requested reinforcements. I don’t know why they needed six more people.”
Blake circled around the train and came in from the left side, avoiding the black eye of the camera installed on the last cart. He didn’t have time to hack it, so he ordered Aileen to listen to the traffic between the train and its guards and fake it, so the train wouldn’t know if the guards disappeared. Blake took a step forward.
“Oh, God, Federation robbers,” said Sheong. “Now I see why they called us.”
He pointed behind the guards to where Blake and Nat were creeping up. The enemies had mech suits, so Blake couldn’t just crush their heads into toothpaste like that officer’s. He drew a plasma blade but didn’t ignite it, staying cloaked. The guards’ scanners clicked, and he darted across the remaining ten feet between him and his target.
“Who’s there?” asked the left guard before Sheong shoved him in the back.
The man stumbled, and Blake jammed the blue-white stream of plasma under his chin and up into his brain. The guard twitched and died. By the time Blake turned around, Sheong was holding the other guard from behind while Nat cut through both the man’s armor and the emergency transmitter at the base of his skull.
“Impressive work, Sheong,” said Blake.
“I didn’t charm my superiors into giving me this suit, you know,” said the social engineer. “Well, I did, but not entirely.”
; “Blake, bust out that corpse disposal liquid of yours,” said Nat.
Blake said, “I have a better idea. Mortenton is one of the two cities on the planet where almost everyone eats proper food. No one will check the carts with dry rations for weeks.”
Five minutes later they were cresting over the edge of the caldera escorting the train with supplies and corpses. Blake took one more step, and the view opened before him.
“Wow,” he said.
“Keep moving, Drummond,” said Nat. “You can get a tour after we win the war.”
They went down and toward one of the two massive bridges that led into the city. Mortenton itself looked like something built by a gargantuan spider. The caldera was a mess of giant boulders and deep fissures, and the city planners had decided to put all the buildings onto a multi-level lattice of silver walkways woven between black gleaming pillars. Each support was ten feet thick and sparkled with energy shields. This web was five miles across, and it filled most of the caldera. Two bridges led into two differently colored sections of Mortenton near them, and another one was barely visible on the opposite side of the city.
“There is a supply depot by the entrance to the Painters District, and we’ll need to pass that spot anyway,” said Nat. “We’ll leave the train there and move on with the plan.”
They guided the train onto the bridge, and Blake made the mistake of looking down. The framework was made from sturdy gleaming beams that vanished below, but the surface beneath their feet wasn’t metal—it was transparent plastic or maybe fortified glass. He shivered and looked forward.
“Where is everybody?” asked Blake. “Mortenton is massive.”
“Few people leave by choice,” said Nat.
“That must suck.”
“They aren’t kept here by force, Drummond. They just don’t want to do much with outsiders,” said Nat, raising her head and looking at the top of the golden tower of the Archives—their destination. “You’ll understand once we enter the city.”