The Final Wars Rage

by S A Asthana

  Walsh’s voice filled her earpiece, celebrating. “Hoorah!”

  A few attacks later, the enemy swarm had dwindled to just two crafts. What the Barbary pirates failed to understand about space battle was it ended quicker when the conflict was in close quarters, especially against a stronger, faster enemy. Distance was one’s best friend out here.

  The two enemy combatants sped away in retreat.

  “Where are they headed?” Alice demanded.

  “Looks like they’re escaping to Earth,” Walsh replied. “Mission accomplished?”

  “No,” said Alice. “We give chase.”

  “But there might be others where these two are headed.”

  “So be it. We’ll take them on too.” Confidence coursed through Alice’s veins.

  The Martian crafts followed at great speed, all the while ensuring their velocity didn’t cancel out the onboard gravity grid’s comfortable 1 G force. Automated systems and processes accounted for any human error — too many good pilots had died in Port Sydney’s early days when accelerating without regard to the gravity-like effect produced inside spacecrafts at great speeds. The faster the ship, the stronger the gravity. If the high-speed induced g-forces got too strong, they could annul the 1 G generated by the ship’s gravity grid, injuring or killing the pilots.

  “Faster!” Alice pressed, her heart beating in her ears.

  Earth, only a spec of blue moments back, grew with each passing second. Soon the planet’s atmosphere would envelop them. Alice had never visited Earth. What was the point of visiting a useless lump of rock? Pirates frequented the planet for essentials like water and maintenance stopovers. There were rumored to be several sites serving as pirate hideouts. Most were temporary on account of the menacing green fogs, one of which had gutted New Paris. Another reason to avoid this hostile place. Many back in Port Sydney expressed affinity towards it, something Alice couldn’t grasp. Perhaps those fond of Earth felt so because of their lineage — they could trace ancestral roots to an exact location on humanity’s birthplace, after all. Alice’s roots led to a petri dish in the Fetal Incubation floor. All she had ever known and learned about Earth had come from her remote research. There hadn’t been a mother or a father to help her understand her origins. She’d been taught by computer terminals and when tired as a result of long hours spent studying, put to sleep by the dull humming of server electronics. A machine upbringing. Humans had only ever wanted something of her — a better calculator, a better weapon, a better something or another.

  The Martian crafts descended into Earth’s atmosphere. Gravity and drag both pulled and slowed the vehicles. They decelerated from speeds faster than 17,000 miles per hour to 500 miles per hour. The 1.V9’s and 1.V8s’ exteriors were coated in special material so as to absorb the extreme heat, 3,000 degrees Fahrenheit, created by the entry. Sparks flew past the crafts. The gravity grids slowly shut off, letting the planet’s natural force take over. The intensity of descent shook the crafts and their occupants, but Alice remained calm through it all.

  The cockpit’s view revealed brown landmasses. While they didn’t look much different than Mars with the exception of a lighter shade, the blue ocean encompassing them was a foreign spectacle. Breathtakingly beautiful — water spreading away from the continents and sparkling under sunlight as if it was covered in diamonds floating across its surface. Alice’s mouth gaped.

  Walsh interrupted her. “They seem to be headed for the site of New Paris,”

  “We follow,” she said.

  The pursuit continued. A landmass expanded to reveal distinct features — sand dunes, green fogs and concrete ruins. This was what was left of old Paris and New Paris. The ground parted not far from the Eifel tower’s remains. Once having served as an entrance to the underground enclave, the hole now appeared as the mouth to hell itself.

  “I’m getting something on radar.” Walsh sounded worried. “It’s… it’s big.”

  Alice leaned forward and asked, “Details?”

  “I can’t completely tell what it is yet and…” His words trailed into silence.

  “What is it?”

  There was no answer for several breaths. An agonizing silence permeated the ship, punctured only by mechanical dins and beeps. Then, Walsh finally spoke, “I’ve got it clear on my radar now.”

  Alice raised her eyebrows expectantly.

  “Damn, it’s the 1.V10. It’s operational”

  The reveal was like a punch to the gut.

  “Operational?” Alice’s voice cracked. “What does that mean?”

  “It means exactly that — functioning, Lieutenant General. The pirates seem to have a hold of it.”

  “But how? It crashed and died two weeks back.”

  Walsh didn’t respond. There was no easy answer. The 1.V10, the deadliest spacecraft in the entire solar system, was now in the pirates’ command. It loomed large on the screen, its five hundred foot long frame battered from the invasion of New Paris and hovering several hundred feet above ground. How was this possible? Remote diagnostics had deemed it scrap metal. Did these lowly pirates have the engineering ability required to resuscitate such complex machinery? No, that couldn’t be the case. Someone else was behind the revival, surely — perhaps someone from Nippon One. But who?

  “It’s coming straight for us,” Walsh said.

  A trap. The two pirate ships had brought the Martians here for a reason. Going up against the 1.V10 was a death sentence. Despite being only a generation higher than the 1.V9, the 10 was better equipped in every way. All aspects of its body were designed to destroy.

  “Retreat!” Alice commanded. “Now!”

  It was too late. The 1.V10 shot a blood-red laser beam along with two heat seeking missiles, taking out three of the 1.V8s. Static blared in Alice’s earpiece signaling the demise of the crafts. Walsh maneuvered the spaceship into a tight U-turn, barely dodging another laser. He shouted, “Boosters engaged!”

  The 1.V9 listed to the right briefly and then balanced itself into a speedy trajectory, heading straight up. The 1.V10 followed on radar. The situation had turned grim. A single hit from the behemoth’s laser, a beam comprised of several kilo-joules worth of energy, would devastate its lesser cousin.

  Fortunately, the right pilot was manning her ship. The 1.V9 maneuvered left to right all the while narrowly escaping laser beams. The craft’s metal walls screeched and its ion engines roared, but it kept its nose pointed up. Soon, it had left Earth’s atmosphere like a dog escaping with its tail between its legs.

  “Is it still tailing us?” Alice asked, her back pressed flat to the chair.

  “No. It seems to have turned back.”

  “Why would it not follow?” Alice said. “Perhaps the pirates are sending a message. Or perhaps they aren’t confident with that thing in space.” Flying the same craft within a planet’s atmosphere and flying it in outer space were different matters. A terrestrial-based pilot didn’t necessarily have the chops to man a craft in a vacuum.

  Either way, the 1.V9 and its occupants were safe for now. Alice exhaled a sharp breath. Her muscles loosened, but another worry loomed ahead. The unsuccessful mission along with its details would need to be disclosed to General Crone. Losing three 1.V8s in action was nothing to ignore. And discovering that the most prized Martian spacecraft was under pirate command was an unthinkable forfeiture. A drop of sweat slid down her pointed nose and fell away.

  CHAPTER 12: BASTIEN

  Servers blinked and beeped, their machinery whirring every few seconds. The spinning processors’ metal smell sat heavy in the room, the scent mixing with the woody aroma of Bastien’s whiskey. He brought the glass tumbler to his lips and let the alcohol comfort his thirst. Greg Jackson and Dr. Bala sat across the table, whiskeys in their hands as well.

  Bastien couldn’t help but ask, “How did all of this come about?” The circumstances involving the Rogu Collective, Belle, and the complicated machinery were hard to grasp. Despite humanity having colonized the moon and
Mars, there were still scientific surprises hidden away in dark nooks. Certain achievements appeared right out of science fiction irrespective of the fact a domed megacity thrived on the moon — whole brain emulation was one such achievement.

  “I promised to fill you in, Bastien,” Greg said. “Now is as good a time as any.” Setting down his tumbler, he began, “You recall my work up at Port Sydney, surely. The High Council’s chief architect. The creator of true artificial intelligence.”

  Bastien sneered, his eyes seeing things materialize across the table.

  “Who would have thought a piece of code would eventually take over a human colony?” Greg leaned forward. “Well, I certainly had an idea. I was the only one in the AI division who did.” The man’s Sydneysider twang remained despite the gap in his time on Mars. “Once I saw my code replicate itself millions of times a second, mutations and deviations and all included, I knew it would surpass my ability to control it. My constructs literally wouldn’t be able to keep up.”

  He stood and paced, his mind brimming with the conflict. “I expressed my concern to the team. I said we would regret this creation, just as humanity regretted those green nano-tech fogs eventually. But no one listened. The promise of an all-knowing AI was too alluring. So the project continued despite my protests.”

  “Why didn’t you just delete it yourself?” Bastien asked.

  “I tried. But by the time I got to it, the program had put safeguards into place. It’d linked itself to Port Sydney’s life support systems. If it went down, so would the colony. Deletion was not a possibility — only slowing the program’s growth was.” Greg exhaled for several seconds. He was getting a load off his chest. “It was obvious to me from the start — AI, a human concoction built for efficiency, would eventually find its own creator inefficient.”

  “How so?” Bastien took a sip.

  “Well, for one the program was built to compensate for human error. That was a large driver behind its creation. And as tests were run using its algorithms to fix human errors in Port Sydney’s numerous data center facilities and code modules, it started to offer recommendations on improving the situation, a capability it had produced on its own while self-replicating the underlying code. And almost always, the suggestions revolved around limiting involvement of the human element. Pragmatically, it made sense. Those human errors, when accounted for in sum and total impact, reduced efficiencies in the long term by large percentages — well over fifty percent. How could any AI, especially one built to improve processes and functions, allow for such errors to persist?”

  Logical, albeit sinister. Bastien pressed for the obvious, “So why did you run away from it all?”

  “I didn’t want to be there when it all came crashing down.” Greg’s head hung. “I knew eventually it would not only demand to limit the human element, but also seek to wipe it out altogether. So I left.”

  “How noble.”

  “Look, it’s not like anyone was listening to me. Not especially the military.”

  Bastien recalled the man’s spats with General Crone, several public, about the program and how it wasn’t fit to continue. But the dream of terraforming was crumbling by the day. The situation, the economy, the morale — everything was at a low point. Desperation made for hasty decisions. Crone had chosen to keep the program operational. He’d convinced the other branches of government at the time to permit it as well. Ultimately, the program had been allowed to grow unfettered. The slippery slope of artificial intelligence had slanted further that day.

  “I didn’t want to watch my monster get lauded any longer.” Greg took the last sip of his drink. “That’s why… I left.”

  “Deserted,” Bastien corrected.

  “Rich coming from you,” Greg scoffed. “Pot calling the kettle black.”

  Bastien crossed his arms. The conversation had made a right turn into judgment street. He didn’t want to press further.

  “Look, we can’t change the past,” Dr. Bala cut in. “We can, however, learn lessons to produce a more fruitful future.” The man had a calming quality, unlike his compatriot. His peaceful demeanor spoke of countless hours spent in a meditative state. That, coupled with the scent of turmeric seasoning, made the doctor a pleasing personality. “What Greg realized through his work on AI was checks and balances were required. Humans, in their biological state, couldn’t serve that purpose.”

  “How come?” Bastien asked, his eyes on Greg’s sullen face still. The scientist was the primary reason behind Port Sydney’s current state of affairs — purges, invasions and all. He’d seen the cracks before anyone but done nothing.

  “Well… to be frank, humans aren’t smart enough in their natural form,” Dr. Bala replied. “So, when I met Greg, I proposed the use of Whole Brain Emulation. My hypothesis was that in a digital state a human could not only retain his moral code, but also exponentially expand his mental capacity, allowing for a true balance to the artificial intelligence.”

  “And that’s when you experimented on Belle?” Bastien took another sip.

  “Yes. I was able to leverage my experience with neurosurgery and cyborfication, and along with Greg’s background in AI, turn this hypothesis into a reality.” Dr. Bala flashed a proud grin, puffing out his tan, rotund cheeks. The man’s eyes teemed with intelligence, which unlike Greg’s equally intelligent gaze, hadn’t seen defeat just yet, or so Bastien conjectured. Although, what a neurosurgeon of his caliber was doing shaking hands with the Rogu Collective was beyond Bastien. Perhaps the circumstances were a byproduct of his gaijin background. Opportunities were limited for those of non-Japanese descent. Compromises had to be made. A discussion for another time.

  “The good doctor here gave me a purpose to live,” Greg spoke up, his eyes wet. “He gave me a path back to grace. I would have taken my life if it weren’t for this work.”

  Redemption. The big motivator for those who’d fallen. Dr. Bala patted Greg on the shoulder. There was a comradery between them.

  “So, now that you both have made this vision a reality, how do you determine whether it’s been successful?” Bastien said.

  “Figured you’d ask,” Dr. Bala noted. “Well, it’s time you saw the full picture. The checks and balances I spoke of — that part is the key to measuring whether the hypothesis is working.”

  “What is Belle a check and balance to then?”

  “The High Council,” Dr. Bala said. “But only in theory, not quite in practice yet.”

  It didn’t make sense. Bastien pressed, “I don’t understand. How can she—”

  “Do this?” The doctor cut in, visibly excited to explain. “Well, we’ve got her systems plugged into the High Council by way of a back door in their computing.”

  “You’ve hacked into Port Sydney’s systems?” Bastien’s eyes went wide. How was this possible? Were the High Council not as high after all? His head was swimming in a sea of zeros and ones.

  “Yes, but not quite all of the systems. The High Council’s underlying code, which is an evolution of what Greg produced years back, is set up in blocks, or modules rather. Each module functions separately. This structure allows the council to exist as three separate entities, each with its own core logic. We’ve been able to plug into one of them — the one who calls herself Mother.”

  He leaned forward with elbows on the table, his eyes brimming with excitement. “We are trying to see where it gets us. It’s a promising start. If we can balance Mother’s underlying logic with Belle’s morality, I think we have something.”

  “It would be an improvement to my program,” Greg added with a distant gaze laced with guilt. “If even one entity is compromised with human morals, it can serve as the checks and balances we need within AI.”

  “But the other two?” Bastien asked. “They don’t need it?”

  “My program requires all three entities to align before making a decision. If even one concludes a different end result than its counterparts, the program does not move forward with a particu
lar decision. This is probably the best aspect of my code,” Greg said.

  It was an experiment running in the shadows, dodging the law and the Trilateral Treaty in many ways. A rogue syndicate from one colony had hacked and compromised the governing body of another colony — if this didn’t make for a scandal, what did? But it was needed. The lack of checks and balances had already allowed the High Council to run amok. This secret test could in fact curtail the program’s ambitions.

  A fear rose in Bastien. Was it possible for Alice to learn of this experiment? She was confident in her abilities to conduct herself away from the council’s prying eyes, and such a feat involved expertise with the underlying code. Would she not be able to uncover a hack? Could she then serve a counter-hack or some kind of a malicious rebuttal?

  “Is this safe for Belle?” Bastien asked, his voice urgent. “She died once already.”

  Dr. Bala and Greg exchanged a glance which reeked of uncertainty. Dr. Bala replied, “Belle knew the dangers well before signing up. This would be her second life, a reincarnation. She’d said whatever it brought, good or bad, she would face it head on.”

  It was an answer, yes — but not a very comforting one.

  “Can I… can I see her?” Bastien asked. “Not just talk to her, but actually see her.”

  Several seconds passed in silence. Greg exhaled a long breath and then spoke up, “Yes. There is a way.”

  Bastien’s heart raced.

  CHAPTER 13: MARIE

  The data transfer, facilitated by a cable protruding from an indecipherable port on Marie’s tail bone, felt like an insect crawling under her skin. She lay still nonetheless face down on her bed. The cable twisted and curled, and plugged into a laptop. Yukito sat facing her by the wall, his eyes thin slits behind thick spectacles. A smug grin sliced his face. He was a strange specimen — tall, scrawny and weak in bed unlike his much older father, but wilier than any man she’d ever crossed. Yukito was a crack in the wall that was the royal family. And he was susceptible to poking and prodding, ultimately capable of being enlarged into a gaping hole to threaten the very foundation of that wall. Yes, he was an opportunity indeed. And surely, he viewed her the same. What results would be borne of this alliance were yet to be seen.