Apex

by Ramez Naam

  I KNOW YOU LET CHEN TORTURE ME, the demoness shouted into his mind. TORTURE ME FOR YOUR PETTY GAIN.

  And he was reliving her pain, every nerve fiber in wretched agony, yet aware she must have had it worse, a being so much more able to feel, that thought so much faster.

  Decades of pain. Centuries of pain. Millennia of pain.

  I’m sorry, he tried to tell her. I’m so sorry.

  Distantly he could sense that he was on the ground, that he was writhing in pain, his muscles contorting.

  YOU’RE NOT SORRY YET, she told him. BUT I HAVE A GIFT FOR YOU. YOU’RE GOING TO LIVE FOREVER.

  Digital. She was going to make him digital, the pattern of his brain, the wiring of his neurons and synapses, like her. She was going to upload him.

  SO YOU CAN SUFFER EVEN MORE.

  No… No… he begged. Please let me die.

  BUT FIRST, she sent. YOU’RE GOING TO HELP ME.

  WHERE ARE THE OTHER CUBES?

  And then he felt hot fingers of her thought violate him, penetrating through his mind, taking whatever they wished.

  As he screamed and screamed and begged her to let him die.

  Tao leaned back in the plane as they headed north.

  His brothers were as quiet around him as they had been on the flight down. But the mood had changed. He could feel them all in his mind. He could feel what they felt, think what they thought.

  He looked over at Sun Liu. The politician’s screams had stopped. But his face was ashen. His mind was sealed up tight.

  But not tight enough.

  Now and again, shards of agony lanced out from him.

  Torture.

  Tao turned back, faced straight ahead. Then he pulled out his weapon, and started checking and rechecking it.

  They had their next target. They had their next mission.

  It would be a test of the endurance of these aircraft. A test of their ability to bluff their way through Air Defense zones yet again. A test of their own skills at penetrating a much more secure location, probably under enemy fire.

  Probably while killing more soldiers.

  But at least they had something to do.

  Tao glanced again at Sun Liu. The man’s face twitched, and another shard of horror leaked out into the minds around him.

  The sooner they were done with this mission, the better.

  What the hell am I doing here? Sam asked herself again.

  She looked across the body of the aircraft, and there was Feng, familiarizing himself with the Indian commando gear.

  She sighed, and looked down at the gear in her own hands.

  I should be with Sarai, with Kit, with Mali, she thought.

  Except that they were all on a plane with Ananda now. On a plane to Thailand, to do something she didn’t fully understand.

  Her mind flicked back to Ananda’s last words to her, in Bangalore, just before they’d lifted off.

  Samantha, he’d said. These children I take with me. Twenty-two of them are Thai. Things have changed since you fled here. Thailand is prepared to protect them now. And you.

  He’d held open an offer of asylum. A home. Bangalore still didn’t feel like home. It felt like a research project.

  What about Kade?

  Sam shook her head. Something to deal with after this. If any of them lived through this.

  She looked to her left. Aarthi was there, one of the dozen Division Six members going with them. Her old colleague smiled at her, gave her an encouraging thumbs up.

  Sam nodded in response. That was two people here she’d been in the field with.

  Three if you counted Kade.

  But you couldn’t really count Kade.

  “Sam.”

  She turned and he was there, getting into the hard military seat next to her. She hadn’t heard him over the roar of the troop transport plane’s engines.

  He fumbled with the straps. She reached over, clicked them home for him, one, two, three.

  She chuckled to herself. This wasn’t his area of expertise.

  Their hands brushed as she finished securing his harness. She looked up and he was staring at her. Was it strange, to look at someone and not know what was in their head? To not feel something coming off their mind? What would it feel like for her, when she took Nexus again?

  It might have been today, if the world hadn’t blown up.

  “I’m sorry I made it so hard when we first got here,” Sam said. She put her fist down on his knee in friendship. “It was about me, not you. I know you’re…” Innocent, she almost said. Still a kid. Naïve. “…good hearted. The kids love you.”

  Kade gave her a strained smile. “The kids love you too,” he said. “They’re really looking forward to you taking Nexus again.”

  She smiled. “I feel good. I think I’m ready.”

  Kade’s smile went away. “I’m glad you haven’t yet.”

  Sam blinked in surprise. That was kind of a strange thing to say.

  “Sam,” he looked at her again. “When we get there. The plan has a lot of risks. And if… Well, there’s something I may need you to do for me.”

  Kade leaned in close then, and told her what he was asking of her, and why.

  And when he was done, Sam leaned back, her eyes closed, bile rising in her stomach at the thought of what he’d just said.

  Kade wasn’t so naïve anymore, after all.

  105

  Ripples

  Sunday 2041.01.20

  “So who did this to us?” Bo Jintao demanded.

  It was late in the afternoon. They’d been meeting for hours. Sending out runners to acquire information, to send orders, to send for more troops.

  Even civilian phones and data didn’t work for them. They worked for civilians, but whoever had hacked them had turned censor codes against them, was blocking the civilian network from working within government ministries and military facilities, was filtering out messages with key phrases, key voices.

  It was infuriating. All their tools were being used as weapons against them.

  Information Minister Fu Ping was sweating. The man looked like he feared for his life.

  “Premier,” the man started. “These last two attacks were sloppier than the initial…”

  “Who?” Bo Jintao demanded.

  Fu Ping stuttered. “Either… Either the Americans. Or the Indians.”

  “You don’t know?” Wang Wei, of the Committee for Discipline Inspection, roared.

  “There’s data pointing in both directions…” Fu Ping’s voice was wavering. He was avoiding eye contact. “It could be that one is behind the attack, and trying to shift blame…”

  “When can you stop it?” Bo Jintao interrupted.

  “We… we are working as fast as we can. We’re optimistic that we’ll find a way…”

  “You don’t know anything, is that what you’re telling us?” Wang Wei’s voice was cutting. The old conservative was turning the screws. Maybe Fu Ping really should be frightened.

  Information Minister Fu Ping took a deep breath. “The Peace and Harmony Friends run in a distributed manner. We send them instructions from the ministry. But they’re not listening to us just now.”

  “They listen to guns,” General Ouyang announced from the doorway, dressed in his full uniform.

  Bo Jintao looked up. He hadn’t heard Ouyang enter.

  “My men have been going door to door, destroying Friend processors. We’ve just posted video on our Army channel of how citizens can do the same, or how they can safely disconnect the dedicated power supplies.”

  “That’s our crown jewel!” Fu Ping protested.

  “It’s a tool,” Ouyang shrugged, still standing. “It can be used by you or against you. I warned you of that years ago.” The grizzled general shook his head. “Overdependence on one tool is always a strategic error.”

  Bo Jintao nodded. He’d told Gao the same.

  “General,” Bo Jintao said. “How goes re-establishing communications?”

&nb
sp; Ouyang took a seat at the end of the table, stared hard at Bo Jintao.

  Bo Jintao knew that look. It was the look that reminded him that he was here, that he was Premier, that he was the man behind the throne, because the Army had backed him.

  Because Ouyang had backed him.

  “We’re making progress,” he said. “Old fashioned radio systems and analog wires are uncompromised. We’re using high altitude aircraft to send signals from one location to another. It’s slow. It’s low bandwidth. But it works.”

  “You have control of the armed forces?” Bao Zhuang asked.

  “I do,” Ouyang said, flatly.

  “And the Americans?” Bo Jintao asked.

  “Their fleet elements are as aggressive as ever. They’re in disputed waters, in parts of the East China Sea and South China Sea we claim. Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou are all in their strike range. The entire eastern seaboard is within their range. And if they struck now…” Ouyang shook his head. “Our response would be uncoordinated. They would have a significant tactical advantage.”

  “Our response?” Bo Jintao asked.

  “We must act prudently and conservatively,” General Ouyang said. “With our systems handicapped and an insurgency on our soil, and the strong suspicion that the Americans are behind it, we cannot afford the added risk that the American naval presence represents. They must understand this. I recommend we contact the American fleet elements directly via ship-to-ship communication and inform them that they are ordered to leave our waters in the South and East China Seas.”

  Bo Jintao nodded. “And if they don’t? If they insist those are international waters?”

  “Warning shots,” Ouyang said. “We demonstrate that we’re serious. A shore-launched ballistic projectile off the bow of one of their uncrewed ships. No risk of lives lost, no damage, but a clear message.”

  Bo Jintao looked around. He saw faces that were frightened. He saw uncertainty. He saw Wang Wei nodding eagerly – anger, needing a target. That was more dangerous than anything.

  Bao Zhuang had an eyebrow raised. “An unscrewed ship is good. A warning shot is good.”

  Bo Jintao took a breath, turned back to Ouyang. “Do it,” he said.

  “Now, as for the protests,” Bo Jintao carefully didn’t look at Bao Zhuang this time. “It’s time to clear them out. Send soldiers to the companies that they’re using to share their videos and pictures and messages. Shut those services down. Turn off the power if necessary.”

  “Premier,” Fu Ping started.

  Bo Jintao rolled over him, directed his eyes and words at General Ouyang . “And then move in on the protesters themselves. With force. Make it clear that any who resist are traitors or American stooges. Force them from the squares.”

  “They have satellite phones,” Fu Ping said. “Laser uplinks. Shutting down the Chinese services won’t stop them from getting news out. Whatever we do will be seen!”

  “I recommend – strongly - against live ammunition,” General Ouyang said. “My forces are not the police. To use soldiers against our own people… That is a line, seldom crossed, painful every time. We should do this with sub-lethal force.”

  “These are traitors!” Wang Wei cut in, ever the hardliner. “We should use whatever force is necessary.”

  “General Ouyang is wise,” Bao Zhuang said, slowly, as if Wang Wei hadn’t spoken. “History is not kind to armies who fire on their own citizens, or to those who give the orders.”

  Bo Jintao compressed his lips. It was wise. Death was to be avoided. One had to sap energy from protests and the movements that fueled them, not feed energy into them. “I agree with General Ouyang and the President,” he said. “Sub-lethal force. We don’t want to create martyrs. But find those phones and uplinks. And destroy them.”

  “What we’re looking at is a major crisis in China,” Secretary of State Pamela Abrams said. “It’s unprecedented in the last seventy years. Larger than the Tiananmen protests of 1989. The next few days could either see the fall of the government or an incredible bloodbath.”

  Pryce nodded. “Thank you, Secretary Abrams. Admiral McWilliams?” She acknowledged the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

  Stanley McWilliams was white haired, a rail-thin runner, almost ascetic in his appearance. He pissed her off to no end on some days. But the man was a soldier who hated war. That meant a lot in her book.

  “The Chinese may have lost most of their internal comms,” he said. “But they have enough. Their fleet has delivered ultimatums to our ships that we’re to quit the East China Sea and South China Sea or be fired upon. There’ve been provocations, boats coming inside the exclusion zones of our carriers. Most worryingly, NRO satellite imagery shows that their shore-based anti-ship missile systems have been armed. Those are a major threat to our fleet elements in the area. If they launch, we can’t guarantee we’ll stop all the warheads. We could lose carriers.”

  “Our ships are in international waters,” Bernard Stevens, the Secretary of Defense, spoke up, looking around the National Security Council table. “We can’t give in to bullying. We have first strike capability against those missiles. We may have no choice but to take them out proactively.” His eyes ended on the President.

  Stockton said nothing for a moment. Then, “Pryce, what’s your view?”

  Well, at least he still asked her opinion.

  “We have to put ourselves in the position of the Chinese,” she said. “They’re panicking. They have a domestic catastrophe on their hands. They see our ships in an aggressive posture, that heightens tensions further.” She paused. “Mr President, you said the Chinese President accused us of undermining their state censors. What if they really believe we’re behind their domestic unrest? They link the two, conclude that this is all part of a plan on our part to bring their government down.” She spread her hands. “What would we do in their shoes?”

  “I agree with Dr Pryce,” Admiral McWilliams said. “Their home situation – the breakdown of their comms, everything else – has the Chinese on a hair trigger. A shooting war isn’t the goal. We’d be wise to take action to calm them down.”

  Bernard Stevens shook his head. “No,” the Secretary of Defense said. “Our ships are only there because the Chinese assassinated a member of this government. Remember that? They started this provocation. All the rest – the accusations – are a smoke screen. They’re blowing smoke to get us to back off. And these are international waters. If we let the Chinese bully us out of there, what does that tell our allies and the world?”

  The Secretary of State spoke up. “I share that concern about our allies,” Pamela Abrams said. “We have commitments to the Philippines, to Japan, to Korea, to Vietnam, to ASEAN. Everyone expects us to hold to international law and internationally defined borders. If we back down on this, the signal it sends will rock the whole region.” Secretary Abrams shook her head. “I can’t believe the Chinese are crazy enough to shoot.”

  Pryce looked around the table. CIA and NSA weren’t offering any opinions. The VP was silent as usual. “It’s your call, Mr President,” she said, turning to Stockton.

  Stockton exhaled. “We stand our ground. We don’t shoot first. But we don’t give in to bullying.”

  Bai stood at attention, stoic-faced, mind locked down, not showing any of his horror, as the thing in little Ling’s body gave him and Peng new orders, a kilometer below Jiao Tong.

  Ensure that the protesters are not flushed from the square, it sent.

  There was an ugly bruise on one side of Ling’s face. Her eyes were bloodshot. One lip was swollen. There was blood on her dress. From where it had dripped down from the lip, he’d guess.

  Her mouth was working. Her lips were saying something. Not the same as her mind was saying.

  In the corner, Chen Pang stood, staring at the Quantum Cluster behind the glass.

  But do not reveal yourselves yet, the thing that he’d once thought was Su-Yong went on. New brothers will be arriving, reinforcing y
ou.

  More than fifty had already arrived, from Dachang, sneaking in, using chameleonware, or disguised in other ways to hide their distinctive faces.

  “Mother…” Peng said aloud. His voice sounded tentative, uncertain.

  Bai felt fear rush through him.

  Don’t say the wrong thing, Peng, he thought, not daring to transmit it. Don’t say the wrong thing.

  “…is everything going alright?” Peng finished.

  Little Ling’s mouth stopped making words to them. She smiled with it instead, showing teeth that needed cleaning.

  “Everything will be just fine,” she said in Ling’s voice.

  It wasn’t until he and Peng were near the top of the kilometer-high elevator shaft that they even looked at each other.

  And Peng silently moved his lips and mouth in a precise mimicry of what Ling’s had done.

  Bai nodded silently.

  Help me. Please, help me. That’s what Ling’s mouth had been saying. Even as the entity that occupied her had been telling them something else entirely.

  Bai shivered, and felt and saw his brother do the same.

  106

  Inflamed

  Sunday 2041.01.20

  Zhi Li stood atop the table in the setting sun, looking down on the crowd in the square of Jiao Tong.

  She could feel them in her mind. She could feel their thoughts and emotions. Incredible. Her hallucination was still so vivid in her thoughts. This was a story. This was a thousand stories. This was a million stories. Each of these faces was a role, was a hundred roles. She looked at a woman and saw a mother, a wife, a daughter, a granddaughter, a grandmother someday, a worker, a student, a teacher, an inventor, a lover.

  A freedom fighter.

  A billion stories.

  A trillion stories.

  Interwoven.