The Forever Peace

by Craig Robertson

  A few of the Berrillians burst into flame when they were shot, their incendiary devices hit directly. It was a horrific sight and had an even worse smell. Whatever material they’d used shot onto whoever and whatever was nearby. Other Berrillians were set on fire, who in turn exploded. Several humans were splatted with the burning material and erupted in flames. The screams were horrific.

  I kept running and firing. I was close enough then to target the doorways themselves. I only picked off Berrillians who were about to escape. Still, I saw several slip away through one of the many exits.

  Then something hit me from behind. I turned and saw a female Berrillian tackling me, arms wide open. Her teeth were headed toward my back.

  While falling, I forward rolled. She lost her partial grip and flew over me. We scrambled to our feet together, and she vaulted toward me. I noted the pack strapped to her waist. That had to be the incendiary case. I’d never seen one worn before. Mid-flight, I sliced her head off, and she crumpled to the ground. I burned off the bomb satchel and ran to the nearest exit. I set the pack down and sprinted away. From twenty meters, I shot my laser at the pouch, and it burst into flames. Good. No one would escape in that direction until someone on our side put out the fire.

  I moved toward the largest grouping of Berrillians I could see— fifteen of them. They were taking cover behind a shuttle craft. Our soldiers fought from makeshift cover wherever they could find it. As I grew closer, the enemy started directing their fire toward me. I guess someone recognized me. I began moving wide to one side, hoping to shift their positions, exposing their flanks. It worked. They were so preoccupied with me, they failed to cover their rears. Within a minute, all the cats were dead. Our side suffered significant losses too.

  “Get these bodies away from the ship. I want as little burned as possible,” I shouted to the survivors.

  They rushed to do so, and I scanned the expanse to see how we were doing. The intensity of fighting was dying down, but scattered hotspots were still present. By then, burning Berrillians were everywhere. The smoke became so thick our soldiers had to put on respirators. Me, I was lucky. I only wreaked of burning flesh. I didn’t inhale it.

  More police and military personnel were flooding into the area. Barring any new unpleasant surprises, we had won the day. I hacked into the command feed. A small number of Berrillians had disappeared into Exeter. No one knew how many, perhaps a dozen. The ship’s region was locked down, so there was only so much area to search. But even a handful of Berrillians with incendiaries could cause untold damage.

  I pulled up a schematic of the areas they could potentially infiltrate. One caught my eye immediately. A preschool, one deck up and three sections over. It wasn’t a military target, but if one of the Berrillians chanced upon it…well, I didn’t want to complete that sentence. I sprinted out the door and up the nearest stairs. It took me thirty second to get there—the longest thirty seconds of my life.

  From half a corridor away, I could hear the children’s high-pitched screams. I didn’t pray all that much, But I did intently pray they were crying because they were freaked out in general and not because a Berrillian found them.

  The hallway door was open.

  I flew through the door and saw the back of a huge Berrillian male. He had two toddlers in one paw and a teacher in the other. He was shaking them all violently. No way I could shoot him. I vaulted at him as hard as I could. Fist first, I hit him in the spine and had the satisfaction of feeling it splinter under my impact. The cat slumped backward on top of me, releasing his captives as he fell. I flipped him off behind me. He lay on the floor, panting and clearly in pain. His legs were paralyzed, but his front arms were grabbing wildly at his waist. I didn’t know if he was going for a sidearm or his explosive pack. Didn’t care, either. I plowed a hole through the center of his forehead, and he went limp.

  I quickly burned off the incendiary pack and ran to the head. I set the pack into the toilet, eased the lid down, and plopped my butt down to keep any explosion contained while the kids evacuated.

  “Get everybody out,” I shouted for all I was worth.

  Slowly at first, then with great haste, the adults herded the kids out the door. While they were exiting, I flushed the toilet. I knew it was unlikely to help, a hail Mary at best. But, hey, I was literally sitting on a powder keg. The room outside went quiet. Just as I began to rise from the can, the bomb went off. Flames hurled me upward, and I crashed against the ceiling engulfed in flames.

  Everything faded to black.

  SEVENTEEN

  “All right, everybody. Take your seats,” said Faiza Hijab with cool authority. “We have a lot to cover and a lot of work ahead.”

  The room quieted reluctantly, chattering fading gradually as opposed to ceasing quickly.

  “Thank you. We need to go over the Foundation Incident. I have numbers from our end in UN Command. Damage to Exeter and civilian losses will be covered by Secretary General Li.

  “Foundation had a crew of thirty-seven, officers and enlisted. One hundred fifty-three UN soldiers were killed in action, mostly in the tractor hangar. Eight of those were vortex Forms who’d responded quickly from across the fleet. An additional eleven guards were killed clearing the ship of Berrillians who made it out of the hangar. That’s two hundred one killed. Another two hundred thirty-eight were injured, but all will recover. Some may require artificial limbs, and one is possibly going to be downloaded to an android due to the extent of her injuries.

  “Thank goodness we ejected Foundation when we did. Fifteen minutes after she was set adrift, she exploded. We estimate the enemy concealed a one hundred megaton fusion bomb onboard. If it had gone off on Exeter, the losses would have been catastrophic. I can’t even begin to tell you what a break we caught there. Damage to Exeter herself was minimal. The fires from the incendiary weapons were quickly extinguished, and no significant structural damage occurred.

  “I’d like to thank all the people who responded and did such an amazing job. We owe you our lives and those of our loved ones. That includes Army, Air Force, police, fire, and Navy personnel.”

  She sat quickly.

  “Do the KIA numbers include General Ryan,” asked Alexis Gore, who stared intently at the desk in front of her.

  “No, ma’am, they do not.”

  “And why is that?”

  “We’re frankly uncertain as to how to classify him. I would defer that question to the scientists…”

  “I can’t believe you’re so cold hearted,” howled Alexis. “You don’t know how to ‘classify’ the man who charged into the daycare center and saved the lives of every child cowering in fear? You don’t know how to ‘classify’ the man who suggested you cast off Foundation before she exploded? What kind of devil are you? We all know about the prejudice the android pilots have been subject to under your command. To disavow General Ryan now, after his contributions, after the masses of humanity he personally saved? Frankly I’m ashamed to sit in the same room as you, bitch.”

  Faiza sat like stone. After several moments, she spoke in a firm monotone. “I beg your pardon, President Gore. You misunderstand. I meant we were not certain how to classify General Ryan as his status is unclear. He is, as I understand it, in a kind of safe mode in Dr. DeJesus’s lab. Hence, he is not technically dead.”

  “An error of omission, not commission?” asked a bitter Alexis.

  “President Gore, I know of your personal friendship with General Ryan. I also know your son and daughter were present in the Sunny Haven Preschool that General Ryan liberated. But please do not presume my feelings for him are any less than yours. The man is, and I use that work specifically until some son of a bitch can prove to me the contrary, a hero, plain and simple. I admire him and trust him more than anyone I’ve ever known, and I’m not a woman given to either such emotions or such praise.”

  Alexis blew her nose with a tissue and looked sideways at Faiza. “I’m sorry for my outburst. These are no ordinary times. Please
forgive me.”

  “That would be unnecessary. I have no ill feelings. Alexis, we both love the man in our own ways. That’s enough. We’re all good.” There was a brief silence. “The Berrillians, not so much. Them, I’d hate to be right about now.”

  A trickle of chuckles built to a gush of laughter. Everyone welcomed the release. Plus, everyone knew Jon would want them to laugh.

  Finally, Bin Li stood. “As to civilian losses, I’m glad to say they were low. Eleven tractor hangar employees were killed. Seventy-five were wounded, but none of them severely, and all will survive. Another seven civilians were killed by the enemy who escaped the hangar deck. Property losses were trivial.”

  Bin thought about making a joke out of the toilet Jon had ruined but decided not to press his luck.

  “If there are no questions, I think we can proceed to matters concerning repair.”

  “I would like Dr. DeJesus to say a word about General Ryan’s condition, if that’s all right?” asked Alexis.

  Carlos stood. “He could not pull himself away from the lab, but I’d be happy to fill you all in. As you all know, android existence presents many challenges to our view of what life is and what might constitute death for one of them. Addressing the simpler issues first, Jon’s physical condition is bad, but far from irreparable. His skin was almost completely burned off, and he lost part of a leg and most of an arm. These can either be repaired or replaced easily enough. Given our current technology, reinstalling command prerogatives will be quite doable.

  “As to his mental function, the integrity of his analog and biocomputers, we are less certain. Backup copies are made weekly for each android. Worst case scenario is that we upload those files and it will be like last week for Jon. If it becomes clear that this is in his best interest, this is what we shall likely do.”

  “But would it be him? Would it be the Jon we know and love?” asked Alexis.

  “Yes, but then again, no. He would be identical to the man he was last week, but he wouldn’t have saved all those lives.”

  “We could tell him, right? There are holos of everything,” said Alexis with uncertainty in her voice.

  “To be certain. Perhaps I make too great a deal of the point. All the copies of that infernal Stuart Marshall were identically repulsive. I’m sure in Jon’s case his personality would be unchanged.”

  “Thank you, Carlos. That helps a lot. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Alexis rested her face in her palms.

  Six decks down from that meeting, Toño sat in the corner of an almost completely dark room. He stared without blinking or wavering at the partial figure lying on the nearby stainless steel table. Over two days, Toño had removed and replaced the polyalloy skin of the parts that were still intact. He labored especially hard on reconstructing the face of his friend and greatest technical achievement. Mostly, Toño tried not to cry. Intellectually, he knew he could reconstruct and reanimate Jon Ryan. But, try as he might, Toño could not convince himself he could resurrect his friend. Silly, yes, but the weight he felt was crushing.

  Toño rose wearily, stretched his back, and stepped over to the android. “So, my friend, let us see what those bargain-basement parts in your head are doing.”

  He attached several wires to Jon’s scalp and turned to a computer screen. After tapping many keys, he rubbed his face. “No change,” he said to the empty room. “Still in safe mode. But why? If the system cannot reboot, it should shut down. That is how I designed it. How can it function differently? The safe mode was designed to bridge the initial programing. I would have deleted it years ago, but never saw the point. It had no function or utility, but it took up so little space.”

  He went to the corner and poured a cup of coffee. With his back to Jon, he went through the algorithms again. No, safe mode was not possible. Serial failed reboots or complete shutdown were the only options his programming allowed for. Yet there Jon rested, defying logic and science, not to mention Toño, even as the man stood on death’s doorstep.

  Light flared in the lab as someone entered and then quickly shut the door.

  “Is that you, Carlos?” Toño asked without turning. “There is unfortunately no change in his condition.”

  “No, it’s me, my friend.”

  Toño whirled to see Kymee standing by Jon’s side.

  “I came as soon as I heard. The generally chatty Wrath was slow in alerting us of the attack on Exeter. Do you mind?” Kymee held up his lateral hand, the one with his command prerogatives.

  “No, of course not. Anything that might help is a good thing.”

  Kymee gently enveloped Jon in fibers. After a few minutes, he withdrew them and rested all three hands on the metal table.

  “What do you think?” Toño finally was forced to ask.

  “I’m not certain. What is this ‘safe mode’ he’s idling in?”

  “It was an old diagnostic mode of a computer operating system. It was used to help repair a system that was working improperly. I installed it centuries ago and never bothered to remove it. I never saw the point.”

  “What an odd application. Why is he in it now? Was that planned?”

  “No. I have no idea why he’s in it. In fact, it shouldn’t be possible. The upgrades and RAM increases I’ve installed over the years should override it instantly.”

  “Could it be a result of his trauma?”

  “I don’t know. Possibly. Even then, it should be quickly overridden.”

  “Might it be something he is doing?”

  Toño hadn’t thought of that angle. He pondered a while before answering. “Interesting question. Anything is possible, but I don’t know why he’d use it or especially why he’d clings to it as he seems to be.”

  “Maybe that’s just it. It’s something to cling to.”

  “Curious notion.” Toño sat on a tall lab stool and gestured to Kymee to join him. Did you sense anything when you probed him?”

  Kymee was slow to answer. “Darkness.” He looked up, surprised at his own choice of words. “Mechanically, he seems intact, but you know that better than I. His biocomputer is as inaccessible to me now at it was the day I met him. His other two main computers are all spinning in this safe mode.”

  “Main computers?”

  “Yes, the one in his head and the one in his chest. Those are the main memory and motor units, as you also know better than I. The ones in his arms and legs are functioning properly but inactive.”

  “I wonder…”

  “What?”

  “I’d overlooked those four, err, the leg and forearm ones. They are little more than servomechanisms to provide negative-feedback to anomalous hand or foot movements.”

  “Ah,” replied Kymee. “I see. That would be a useful plus in certain movement environments, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes…” Toño wasn’t really listening. He was lost in thought. “I wonder if Jon’s managed to maintain his consciousness in one or all of those tiny devices?”

  “They don’t seem large enough to hold his entire consciousness, not by a wide margin actually,” responded Kymee.

  “Maybe they wouldn’t have to hold it all.” He rubbed at the back of his scalp. “If he just put a tiny portion of his core memories in them and basic frontal cortex function. Hmm.”

  “Why? He had to know you’d fix him if it was humanly possible.”

  “True. But look at it from his perspective. You’re being blown up, might be destroyed, and are definitely going to suffer extensive damage.” Toño’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “A life raft!”

  “Not the three words I anticipated next from your lips, Toño. Are you all right?”

  “No, Jon has placed himself on a life raft. He distributed just enough consciousness to remain who he was in case the mothership, that is, his main computers, were compromised.” He shook his head vigorously. “The man simply never ceases to amaze or consternate me.”

  “I’m still not getting the picture here. Why would he do that?
More importantly, does it lead to a solution?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was just a desperate act… Wait. He’s keeping the main units in safe mode. He’s not allowing them to reboot. He’s sending us an old fashion signal. He’s saying, ‘I’m here, save me.’ Son of a gun.”

  “But why not allow the main units to reboot? Why, aside from sending a greeting, would he prevent them from rebooting?”

  “There is only one reason I can think of. He knows they can’t reboot.”

  “Now I’m more lost than a blind priest in a whorehouse.”

  Toño glared at Kymee.

  “Ah, I learned that one from Jon,” Kymee said quickly. “Sorry. It kind of slipped out.”

  “He has that polluting effect, doesn’t he? Look, it’s complicated, but I think this is it. He knows that if the computer itself from the inside or I from the outside attempt a reboot, it will be unsuccessful. Instead of restarting, the system would remain off.” To himself, Toño marveled, “Yes. Brilliant.

  “You see, take the example of a primitive computer. If the unit couldn’t boot up, all information was lost. In the primitive systems, a skilled technician could recreate the stored data, but it would have taken immense effort. In the case of Jon’s system, even given forever, recreating the information would not be possible. So, he holds the computer in safe mode.”

  “Which unit? The one in his head or his chest? Or is it he must hold both in suspended animation?”

  “That’s a good question.” Toño was quiet a long while. “It’s statistically unlikely that both are equally damaged and not restorable. But which?”

  “Maybe we can ask him?”

  “Now I’m the holy man in the house of ill repute.”