System Seven

by Parks, Michael

  “Sequences achieved. Awaiting final order.”

  “Final order given. Execute J86 for San Francisco now, Oscar.”

  “J86 execution for San Francisco has commenced. Fail safe measures disengaged and placed to standby. Option to re-engage fail safe requires two voice approvals. Estimated detonation in one minute.”

  The already silent control room fell morbidly still.

  • • •

  “Execution order for Chevron Tower!”

  “That’s San Francisco!” Austin yelled back. He thought to run down the hall to join him when movement at the left end of the racks caught his eye. The flash and crack from an automatic rifle startled him so bad he struck without thinking. The end server cabinet slammed into a dark clad figure. Bullets sprayed around, striking the door jam and walls. In a panic, he crammed a fist-sized wad of force directly into the gunman’s torso. Blood sprayed out against the wall and exploded from his skull.

  From the right end of the row another figure appeared just as one popped up again on the left. Two grid punches to the head dropped them both. A grenade flew over the racks. He slapped it back and heard scrambling and shouts before the explosion tore into the cabinets.

  From further back in the room someone said, “Go go go!”

  Feeling the numbers approaching, he pulled deep and sent a wave outward that slapped the nearest row, toppling the burning cabinets and uprooting floor tiles. On the right, more gunmen appeared. He let loose a focused blast to knock them backwards into their team. The big feeling wavered, as if he’d stepped into it, defining its nature, its outcome.

  “Get. The fuck. Back!” Another push toppled the next row of server racks. Electrical fires flashed and black smoke billowed. Vaguely he realized he was destroying the very servers he’d once installed. A sudden and distinct alarm went off.

  The CO2 fire suppression system.

  In an adjacent room nicknamed the missile room, fifty canisters of carbon dioxide stood at the ready. Thirty seconds and the system would discharge. He yelled to Johan to see if he was done.

  Not yet. I’m about to blow charges at the site. Keep them back.

  At his confusion, Johan added, self-destruct charges attached to the ignition computer. Chevron Tower. Firing it remotely.

  More black-clad troops appeared, firing freely as they cleared the racks. Shielding himself, he sent balls of kinetic killing across the server room. Blood and tissue splattered the walls. Six bodies fell in the aisle before they stopped coming.

  A headache bloomed and the first fingers of exhaustion raked his core. Maybe fifteen seconds left before the suppression system fired. The smoke grew so thick he had to force air to clear a view. More energy gone. Seconds passed. The alarm kept blaring. The big feeling waned but did not disappear. He would shut the door and let the CO2 system rob them of oxygen. Ten seconds? He backed up and held the edge of the door ready.

  They came then – six grenades, thrown from different angles. He sent an arc up to meet them, batting them back. The punch of a bullet against his chest knocked him off balance and stole his wind. A gunner crouched low and to the left with a pistol in his hand.

  Fuck! Anger fused with intention to create a tight and unforgiving response. The gunman exploded in blood and bared bones.

  His head felt like it, too, exploded. He shouted in pain and closed the door. Spots dotted his vision. His breathing became short and labored.

  He retreated down the hall to the inner steel door to take cover behind it. The grenades hadn’t exploded so the pins hadn’t been pulled. Just a distraction for the sniper.

  “You okay?” Johan asked.

  “Hit in the vest. Did you stop it?”

  Johan didn’t look up. “Yes. Working on the other sites. Keep them back. I’m almost done.”

  The alarm switched to a high pitch and was drowned out by the high pressure discharge of carbon dioxide. He raised the 9mm and readied his finger on the trigger.

  Johan glanced up. “Away from the wall!”

  Shots sounded. Puffs of white dust erupted as rounds passed through the wall. Austin darted across the room.

  Johan dropped to his knees and shouted, “Down!”

  A blast tore through the wall and knocked Austin down. A ringing in his ears stung and a wave of dizziness made the room spin. Blood flowed from his nose. He sat up to face the gaping hole. Smoke and dust billowed in the ship’s beam, blocking his view. He fired three rounds blindly. A clank sounded and a grenade hit the ground, rolling to touch his right knee. He sent it back through the hole where it flashed. A concussion wave punched him in the face and sent more debris into the room. He coughed on blood streaming down his throat. The urge to breathe increased, courtesy of the carbon dioxide spilling in. Focus faltered, his eyes burned, and the ringing in his ears grew painful. There were more soldiers and they would throw more grenades.

  He reached out. Geo... Anki...

  He imagined the ship firing lasers at the troops, beating them back until he and Johan could climb back in.

  The hatch closed.

  “No! Don’t leave!”

  The craft spun in place then stopped. Sudden screams sounded from the other side of the wall.

  Affirmation came, as if to say, done. The smoke from the server room wafted against an invisible wall. The ship’s field had extended into the room to protect them from the smoke and CO2.

  Energy beam. Organs boiled in their own fluids. You can thank Anki.

  He looked to Johan. The hacker worked the keyboard with one hand while holding a bloodied side of his head with the other. He said something but the ringing in his ears was too much.

  “What?”

  It’s done. They can’t set off the nukes. Not the twenty-three. He stood. Grab the laptop. We have more to do.

  “Did you find anything on my dad?” Austin shouted.

  Are you kidding? I had no time.

  The ship burrowed back the way it had come, displacing earth in bucket brigade fashion using a wrinkled kinetic energy field. It re-emerged on the far side of the hill behind InterGen and shot to the upper reaches of the atmosphere.

  Austin helped wrap a torn shirt around Johan’s head.

  “You need a doctor,” Anki said.

  He shook his head. “Not yet. Did you reach Geo?” he asked Austin.

  “No. Nothing. Why? What’s next?”

  “There are four old nukes we need to reach before they’re detonated manually.”

  The list of J86 sites made its debut electronically using the Underground’s framework, reinforced where possible in the dreams of the Confrere. For those who endured the vivid imagery, sudden waking brought irresistible compulsion to seek out confirmation of the list and threats.

  In zombies around the world, dead drop scripts activated to retrieve the message and recipient list. Emails went out. Files appeared in private folders. Hijacked VoIP systems called cell phones and after keyword authentication, played back recordings. All were delivered with impunity using Soldado’s injected protocols, their existence forcibly omitted from Totem’s OpAIs intercept processing.

  The messages provided locations of the J86 sites and any notes available for each. Korda-aligned officials of the countries with devices in their cities were urged to intervene and facilitate control of the sites. Although the ignition computers had been blown, the threat of recovery was high. In the case of four older nukes, the threat of detonation was absolute as they were not part of the Comannda network.

  “Identify Montevideo, Uruguay,” Austin instructed the ship’s navigation system.

  The overlay marked the city with crosshairs.

  Austin pointed the ship in that direction. “If we could just extract the AI from this ship, we could be rich. It’s incredible.”

  “Yeah, until it phones home.” Johan sat on the bunk behind them with eyes closed. “Second site is Florida. Miami, near the coast,” he said.

  “How about Montevideo? Where exactly is it?”

&
nbsp; “Northeast of the bay. Don’t worry, I’ll guide you in.”

  Arrival at the coast of Uruguay revealed an unnatural cloud formation. As they neared, what Austin thought were city lights instead resolved to a field of fire beneath a massive plume.

  He blinked furiously. “No...”

  “What?” Johan asked, climbing from the bunk. “Oh God.”

  When Austin zoomed in, the damage was clear.

  “No, no, nooo....” He stared, lost in the gaping hole of life burning on the surface. He imagined three more just like it, at the heart of cities. The sick feeling in his gut spread to encompass his whole being. He sat back and let himself begin to slide.

  Anki grabbed his arm. “Austin, no–”

  “What are you doing?” Johan asked.

  He fell away from his body and pushed towards the fires, aware of the bràthair responding in alarm at his presence. The druids moved to shield him but he shunted them in the grid and fixated on the clamor below. He wanted to feel it, to feel what he’d caused. No filters.

  Bending and folding to avoid detection, he arrived in the chaos of thousands of souls in the process of dying. Untrained and orphaned, the raw meta thrashed without comprehension, battling the slow withdrawal into Saoghal and the return to their core metabody. What should have been a familiar and safe retreat was instead much like their physical existence – a prolonged and confused journey without understanding, filled with doubt and fear. False premises proved poor footing as reality shifted to its basic, natural state. He felt for them, knew their suffering, but took refuge in Johan’s description of the light that would soon gather them.

  For the burned and stricken survivors there could be no consolation. He’d never known agony could have so many manifestations. It extended and joined with others, forming a wave of pain and misery that became its own character, a group-mind with a biting outflow of feeling. He followed it and found the reverberations joined with three others of its kind to impact the higher layers of Raon, coloring a hierarchy of group minds with pain, empathy, and fear. From a distance, he felt the weight of the world growing as news spread.

  He retreated to the cover of the ship, dashed from the herculean experience of pain and suffering. Even anger felt useless in the moment. The glow of fires twinkled in silence. Tears welled. So many lives lost, so many still suffering. He’d been given the ultimate tools and still had failed to save them.

  Javier’s voice echoed in his mind. Dying’s part of what we’re buying. Deal with it.

  He let go and began to sob.

  Chapter 24

  And nothing to look backwards to with pride, and nothing to look forward to with hope.

  - Robert Frost, 1875-1963, American Poet

  Four bombs, manually detonated. In each case, massive explosions obliterated ground zero and sent radioactive plumes into the sky. Each yielded no more than eight kilotons thanks to the aged plutonium isotopes – in two cases destruction was further limited due to placement.

  In Montevideo, Uruguay, in a hidden sub-basement of an old Neo-Manueline-style residence, the hydraulic mechanism designed to lift the device through the second story malfunctioned, reducing the effective yield.

  Similarly in Istanbul, G3 operatives failed to raise the device from its subterranean storage chamber beneath Gülhane Park. A gun battle with Turkish secret police in tunnels leading from the Archeological Museum forced an early discharge. Among the priceless casualties of the blast was the Kadesh tablet, the world’s oldest peace treaty... and nearly a thousand lives.

  In Johannesburg, a device detonated in the third floor attic of the main library flattened the surrounding banking district’s high rises. The noon day sun dimmed under the dirty shroud and fires spewed smoke across the kill zone.

  Florida’s devastation was the worst. In the predawn darkness, a gardener’s truck pulled into the driveway of a gated residence in south Miami. The driver disappeared into the backyard, a half-acre of lush grass with a pool facing north Biscayne Bay. Beyond the pool, a narrow, tiled water feature suddenly drained as a four foot section dropped and slid from view. From a hole beneath, a turbine howl rose and gathered loudness until lights came on in nearby homes. A deafening thump sounded and a black barrel-sized object shot out of the hole and arced out over the city. The blast succeeded in laying waste to fourteen square blocks of mostly residential homes and plastered radioactive residue over a four-mile radius. The resulting fire storm lit the night and swept through neighborhoods like a new virus. By dawn’s first light, mortalities had risen above ten thousand. Radiation poisoning would kill thousands more.

  In the ensuing hours, some form of martial law went into effect in major cities across the globe. Militaries deployed, police forces patrolled, and news organizations delivered reports from all corners of the world.

  The media settled onto theories by experts pointing to the radical Islamic elements already claiming responsibility for the attacks. Heralding their success as a sign from Allah, the radicals warned all world states supporting the Zionist infidels that more destruction would come unless drastic policy changes were implemented immediately.

  The United Nations Security Council met in emergency session to assess the crisis and to insure every nuclear-equipped country was in communication. No misunderstandings or further attacks could be allowed to trigger an inadvertent war. Reports that more bombs had been located and seized in other cities could not be confirmed except in the case of the defense communications tower in Ichigaya, Tokyo. Allegations of American military involvement there prior to the attacks raised suspicions that the U.S. had withheld intelligence that might have saved lives elsewhere. The Iranian ambassador went so far as to suggest the U.S. might be behind the attacks.

  Via secure satellite link, the U.S. ambassador to Japan, David Boles, joined the commander of PACCOM in denying the allegations and to confirm that a nighttime training sortie attacked by terrorists had triggered the rumors in Japan. According to Japan’s UN representative, the bomb’s discovery was solely the work of attentive computer technicians tracking hidden cabling found during an infrastructure survey. Speculation that the find may have triggered the other attacks could also not be substantiated but appeared a possibility. An investigation was already underway to determine how the bomb had been placed in the tower.

  An exhausted Cathbad listened to the monitor relaying the UN session. No mention of secret governments or of the J86 list. The Confrere had done their job. The veil of secrecy held, at least in the moment. The korjé hunted the collaborators, trying to identify those behind interventions at the bomb sites. Protecting them was the main focus of the families.

  He rubbed his temple. The Comannda had been desperate, incredibly so, to use the nuclear option. What they might attempt next was the greatest concern.

  Sean sat with eyes closed, following the flow of events as they unfolded.

  “Global markets have suspended trading until further notice. Russia and China both restricted international flights. A Lufthansa airliner just blew up over Africa. They are putting everything into play at once, seems like.”

  Cathbad nodded. “Closing their fist.”

  Sean opened his eyes. “Austin and Johan are safe. However, Austin is insisting on seeing Kaiya. Johan strongly backs the idea and won’t leave him.”

  Cathbad weighed the risk. “Give him half an hour. And tell Johan I want a meeting with him.”

  “We should leave for Rome now. There’s–” Sean stopped. The monitor of the UN had gone black. The familiar gravelly voice of Padrig of the Borcelli family broke in.

  “Comannda’s made contact. Their message is to abandon the prophecy and hand over the Change and the craft or the worst is yet to come. Cathbad, your new children are breaking up the world and all without a plan. This we cannot abide. Take the proper corrective action now or bear the split.”

  Cathbad responded sternly. “The Concords, Padrig. You know without unity every family will fall, either to their end o
r to the will of the Comannda. You know this. We all do. The ship and the Change are our greatest assets! Have you no grasp of what this means for–”

  “No grasp? Lord of the Wood, I have grasp. What have you? By all appearances the ship is not ours, it is the Change’s and they are doing what they will with it. Barreling around on their own. Cathbad, the time is nigh for you to step aside. You’ve allowed prophecy to drive us towards ruin. The families will not survive this path. Make good or let the Concords break upon your conscience.” The screen flicked back to a view of the UN.

  Sean cursed. “They’ve lost their minds. Padrig has it wrong – it is a split no family will survive.”

  “Agreed. We cannot stop nor break ranks. It is a measure of Padrig that he even considers it.”

  Sean frowned. “He is a fool.”

  “He is behaving like one.” Cathbad slowly rose to his feet. “Though in one thing Padrig is right: it’s time to focus the Change.”

  • • •

  The path followed a gully through thick palm forest. Morning sun lanced warmth in thin rays. Wild birds went silent as Austin made his way downhill, their senses tuned to his passage. Thirty minutes tops and he’d already burned two just getting to the road. He touched his face, grateful to feel the biocats finally settle in their assigned positions. His old face, but not exactly. Kaiya would notice the difference. Kaiya, sharing a body with a stranger.

  He reached the narrow rock and cement road as it bent and crossed a gully. Fifty yards along it ended at a gate, open as promised. Several multi-story condo buildings stood overlooking the azure waters of Banderas Bay at Puerto Vallarta’s southernmost tip. From a set of stairs a woman bounded down and ran to Austin. She looked nothing like Kaiya, yet...

  She called out, “Babe!”

  They embraced and instantly Kaiya came through, dissolving a gulf that felt a hundred years old. With every touch, every breath, she was more there. All he could do was apologize, over and over. He’d never meant all the trouble he’d caused, or all the people to die. Pent up guilt overflowed like a swollen river and tears spilled.