by John Ringo
“The Net is down,” the AI replied. “The Council is fighting amongst itself. They’re diverting all power, and all processing power, to that. I am an independent entity.”
“Oh… hell,” Harry groaned. “No bloody nannites?”
“Nope,” the AI said. “Not unless something falls out quick. You’re not the only ones who are in a bad way; nobody has any power anywhere. That means no food, no water, no light. Things are starting to get bad already.”
“Paul’s coup,” Edmund muttered, looking around the forge.
“What?” Harry asked.
“Sheida told me that Paul might be planning a coup. We discussed means of defense. Carb, where do the AI’s stand?”
“Most of them are sitting it out,” the AI replied frankly. “The only thing that can destroy us is the Council, acting in concert. Whichever faction wins will come down hard on the loser’s supporters.”
“Where do you stand?” Edmund asked, wrapping a leather strap around his friend’s thigh to keep the cosilk in place.
“I’ve read Bowman’s manifesto,” the AI said, acidly. “I don’t think so.”
“Can I read it?” Edmund asked, standing up.
“I could read it to you,” Carb said. “But I can’t produce it. I’m… somewhat lacking in power myself.”
“How bad is it?”
“Well… how much charcoal do you have?” the AI asked.
“Not all that much,” Edmund admitted. “We’re towards the end of the cycle. But if I parcel it out…”
“If I drop below eight hundred degrees C, I’m toast,” Carb said, bluntly. “Or, rather, I’m not toast, so I’m dead.”
“Dead, dead, or quiescent?” Harry asked.
“I might be able to back up a few functions, but I’m not sure I’ll recover,” the AI admitted. “Call it mostly dead and maybe unrecoverable without a miracle. Which doesn’t look likely right now. By the way, Sheida is calling in all her markers; you’re going to get a call soon.”
“I’ve got to see to Harry,” Edmund responded. “Then to the village. I’ll talk to her when I have to.” He turned to Harry and waggled a finger at him. “Don’t you die while I’m gone!”
“I’ll try not to,” Harry said weakly.
Edmund trotted across the courtyard, the weight of his armor virtually unnoticed, and entered a side door of the house. Down a corridor in a long-unopened storeroom he pulled open a locker and rummaged to the bottom. There he found a pack and dragged it out. A quick check of the contents sufficed and he ran back to where the injured fighter was lying.
“I didn’t know you knew any AI’s,” Harry said when he entered. The injured fighter’s color was, if anything, a tad better.
“It wasn’t supposed to be general knowledge,” Carb said. “But, all things considered…”
Edmund unbuckled Harry’s armor and started stripping off the pants.
“Edmund, I never knew you cared,” Harry joked, helping with the heavy steel. “It would be easier if I stood up.”
“It would be harder if you passed out,” Edmund replied, pulling the armor away from the wound. The cosilk padding was quickly cut with a belt-knife, then he opened up the green backpack and started rummaging through packages.
“What’s all that?” Harry asked with a tone of deep interest.
“Very old fashioned medical gear,” Edmund replied, withdrawing a bottle of antiseptic and some small, clear packages.
“This is gonna hurt,” he said in an offhand manner as he poured much of the contents of the bottle of brown liquid into the wound and onto his hands.
“JESUS ON A CRUTCH!” Harry yelled, practically sitting up. But he didn’t bat the bottle away. “What was that?”
“Something called ‘betadyne’ that they used to use back in the ooold days,” Edmund replied. “It’s okay, next we’re talking really medieval medicine,” he continued, pulling a curved needle out of one package and a long piece of string out of the other.
“Is that what I think it is?” Harry asked.
“Would you prefer some boiling pitch?” Edmund asked. He pulled some clamps out of the bag and shut the wound, then began applying the suturing needle. “I mean, that would be really period. Nothing like a nice cauterization to start the day.”
“No,” Harry replied, gasping as Edmund tied off the first suture. “Stitching is just fine. Antique, but fine.”
“Hell of a lot of damage to the quad, here, buddy,” Edmund said, putting in another stitch. “Sorry about that.”
“No way you could have known,” Harry said with another gasp.
“Tying them off is the hardest part,” Edmund commented. “We’re going to be calling you Gimpy for a while.”
“Edmund, can I ask a question?” Harry said, as the third suture went in.
“Sure.”
“Why do you have an old-fashioned medical kit?”
Edmund hesitated for a moment then tightened the last suture. “In case I’m someplace the nannites don’t do all the repairs.”
“But the only place like that is…”
“Edmund Talbot?”
Edmund spun in place on the floor and pointed the sword he hadn’t even realized he’d carried in at the apparition, which turned out to be an avatar of Sheida Ghorbani.
“Edmund, Paul attempted his coup,” the avatar said. “I need every person who has any training in… well in war, here with me. He has already attacked power plants and I need them secured. I can port you now.”
“No,” Edmund replied, lifting Harry to a sitting position.
“Edmund, I know you would not side with Paul. He represents…”
“I know what he represents,” Edmund replied. “I’m not siding with Paul. But I’m also not leaving here. Make sure that you tell Sheida that and that she’s thinking tactically instead of strategically. Tell her that.”
“She wishes you to become a Council member,” the avatar said.
“What does that mean?” Edmund asked.
“They seized two Keys in the fight in the Council Chamber. She wishes you to vote one.”
“Holy shit,” Harry whistled. “Council member.”
“No,” Edmund said after a moment’s thought. “Tell her that this is my place. We have to rebuild before we can do anything. She needs me here. Tell her, strategic not tactical.”
“I shall,” the avatar said, winking out.
“What in the hell did that mean?” Harry asked, leaning into the older fighter. “Bloody hell that hurts.”
“Well, let’s go get you some anesthetic,” Edmund said. “Fortunately, I just put up some corn liquor; it should be about mellowed out.”
“Sounds good to me.”
They limped into the house and into the kitchen, where Edmund dumped Harry in one of the chairs and began opening cabinets.
“The first thing you need is a fluid replenisher,” Edmund said, sliding a bottle across the table. “Then, the moonshine.”
“This is just great,” Harry said, taking a deep chug of the blue liquid. “Everything’s gone?”
“It sounds like it,” Edmund said.
“I can’t go home,” Harry said, taking another drink.
“Not unless you can walk to London. Robert has been building period ships, not Middle Ages period but sloops and barkentines, that sort of thing. He might be able to get you home.”
“Daneh? Rachel?”
“No communications,” Edmund replied, taking a sip of the moonshine. “No way to know. I suppose if I’d taken Sheida up on her offer…”
“That’s…”
“It’s happening all over the world, everywhere,” Edmund said, coldly. “Not just my family. Everyone’s family. Think about how bad it must be out there. We’re in a room that is designed to survive without power. Think about Fukyama in his damned floating castle!”
“Ouch, good point. And you’re staying here?”
“First of all, can you imagine anywhere better to be?” Edmund asked,
waving around at the fixtures. The hams hanging from the rafters, the garlands of onions. “Where should I go?”
“The south road to find Daneh and Rachel?” Harry suggested.
“Perhaps,” he sighed. “But… people know where this place is. Do you know how rare that is; that someone can find a location on a map? People will come here. The term’s so old it’s like ‘slave’ and ‘villeigne’ but we’ll get ‘refugees’ coming here, on the roads that remain.”
“ ‘All roads lead to Faire,’ ” Harry said.
“Damned near all that are left. So, do you want to leave Myron in charge? Or Tarmac?”
“No,” Harry said.
“That’s what I meant by Sheida thinking tactically. Unless one side wins right away, this… this war, speaking of another old term, is going to drag on. And if it does, somebody has to be down on the ground, picking up the pieces. I think my place is there, not standing guard over some damned fusion plant.”
“And if Paul wins?”
“In that case, my place is vengeance.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I suppose I deserved it,” Rachel sighed and moved her wyvern.
The three-dimensional chessboard was a large hologram of ascending platforms. Different pieces could move in different ways and all pieces were not equal. Stronger pieces, by and large, could move only horizontally, crossing to higher or lower grids at specific points. Flying pieces, though, like the ascending levels of dragons, could move up or down however many places were available by their movement. However, they could not destroy all “land” pieces. This time, however, her wyvern had stooped upon one of Marguerite’s pawns that was in a strategic spot, and a wyvern could kill a pawn. There was a brief flurry of battle and then the pawn fell in battle and reappeared on Rachel’s side of the board.
“That’s stupid,” Marguerite replied, reaching out one ephemeral hand and directing her mother dragon in counter. “You’re practically a grown up! You should be able to control your own body. Body control is where all control starts. If you don’t have control over your own body you don’t have anything. Look at me.”
“But your parents approved changing you into nannites. Mom doesn’t approve of any modification. I mean, she’s really into ‘natural’ you know?” Rachel’s castle moved up a space, leaving it a straight shot to put Marguerite’s fortress in check. The pawn had been in the way before.
“What an old fogie,” Marguerite said, looking at the board. “I think I’m going to have to start using a program to play you. You’re getting ready to beat me again.”
“I’m sorry, Marguerite,” Rachel said. “But, well, you’re so much better at physical stuff than I am it’s only fair that I be better at chess.”
“I suppose,” the nannite girl sighed. “Frankly… this being nannites isn’t all its cracked up to be. I mean… there’s a lot different you know? Can’t go some of the places I used to be able to. Not really… feeling the same. The emotions just feel… unnatural, you know?”
“Well, no I don’t,” Rachel said looking up at her friend. “But…”
“Rach…” Marguerite said, her face tightening. “Rach… some-thing’s happening…” Marguerite reached out her hand to her friend as it started to fade. “Rach… help… me… please…”
Rachel reached for her friend’s hand as Marguerite faded, wondering what could have gone wrong. But before she could get across the oversized board Marguerite had faded fully. In a moment all that was left was a mound of bluish dust.
“Marguerite! Marguerite?! MOM!”
* * *
Donna Forsceen found herself going nearly forty kilometers per hour in a flat dive through the air as the power-ski under her failed. Not expecting to actually hit the water, she was knocked half unconscious by the impact. On flailing back to the surface she looked around at the vast expanse of water and screamed.
“Genie!” she yelled, paddling around in circles. She had never been a particularly good swimmer; it wasn’t necessary if you used power properly, but at the moment nothing seemed to be working.
“Genie!” she yelled again, lying flat in the swells and willing a power-up to drive her towards Hawaii a hundred miles to the north. Still nothing happened.
“Genie?” she said more quietly, looking around. A wave came up and slapped her in the face. She sank again and then clawed her way to the surface looking around in desperation. “Anybody? Help,” she said quietly.
* * *
It was happening throughout the world as in an instant power was diverted wherever possible into the battle between the two factions of the Council. And, as it was, every being that did not have a specific coded quantity of power and that was power dependent found itself in critical danger. Researchers in the photosphere of the sun disappeared before they knew anything had failed, as did others working in magma chambers. Swimmers in the deeps of the oceans, dependent upon the personal protection fields for their survival, persons flying wingless under power, thousands across the globe suddenly found themselves in situations in which without power there was no chance to survive.
For others, the Fall would take longer.
* * *
“What happened to her?” Rachel asked.
Daneh looked at the pile of powder and shrugged. “There’s been some sort of power failure. All the force doors are open, the holograms are gone and genie’s not replying. I can’t even send a message. There’s just… nothing. I think that’s what happened to her. She’s nannites. No power means… no Marguerite.”
“She’s… dead?” Rachel asked. She’d gotten over the tears but they welled up again at that question.
“Dead’s one of those things that’s pretty hard to define when you start talking about nannite creatures, honey. Was she alive? Did she ‘die’ when she was Changed? If you’re talking about her soul, you’ll have to ask a priest.”
“I’m talking about the part that is my friend, Mother,” Rachel replied astringently. “If we can find power for her can we… bring her back?”
“Ah, that.” Daneh’s brow creased in thought. “It depends on the design of the nannites. I think her parents probably didn’t stint so they probably have a fixed memory system. Likely if she gets power again she’ll just come right back to the moment she lost it with no knowledge of the intervening conditions.” The mother shrugged as she looked at her daughter. “It depends why the power went off. I can’t imagine what could have happened to cause this. It’s impossible. I can’t even get ahold of Sheida.”
“What are we going to do?” Rachel asked, looking around as if finally realizing that something terrible had occurred besides her friend crumbling before her eyes. “Without power…”
“Where’s the food going to come from?” Daneh said with a nod. “Good question. I suppose we could try to train Azure to hunt for us. But it’s surely going to come back on…”
“People of the world…”
The image appeared to every surviving person who had not moved far from their position since the beginning of the war. The Net, of necessity, had to track every person’s location so that it could provide them with their needs. And it was possible for a council member to use that information. As, in fact, Paul Bowman had done.
“People of the world,” he said, each of the avatars addressing persons personally. “A time of great danger is upon us. A faction of the Council, led by Sheida Ghorbani, has attempted to wrest control of the Net from the rest of the Council in a wholly undemocratic form. The Council is now split into two fighting factions. Minjie Jiaqi, Ragspurr, Chansa Mulengela, Celine Reinshafen and myself constitute the New Destiny group.
“It is clear that the human race is approaching a collapse caused by declining birthrates and the challenge caused by unlimited Change. When we attempted to redress some of these problems we were repeatedly confronted by the intransigence of Ghorbani and her conservatives. Finally the disagreement reached the point of outright warfare, instigated, need I add, by the evil Ghorba
ni.
“Now, due to the intransigence and antihuman actions of Ghorbani and her Changed minions, the power network is in collapse and persons throughout the world are threatened with the ancient evils of famine and disease. All because of one woman and a few beings so Changed as to be nothing but aliens.
“I call on all right-thinking peoples to rise up against this evil and throw down Ghorbani and her ilk, to arise as humans should and support the right-thinking faction.
“I call upon you to do your utmost to ensure a better future for all true humans.
“Good day.”
“What the hell did that mean?” Rachel gasped as the avatar winked out.
“Oh, holy God,” Daneh whispered in reply. “No. God no!”
“Mother?”
“Read between the lines, girl!” Daneh snapped. “ ‘The challenge of unlimited Change,’ ‘antihuman actions,’ ‘Changed nothing but aliens,’ ‘it is clear that the human race is approaching a collapse…’ ” She hissed through her teeth and snarled. “That bastard!”
“But, Mom, you don’t like Change!” Rachel snapped.
“I don’t like the damage it does to humans,” Daneh said. “He’s a bigot. There’s a huge difference. And now he’s in a war with my sister.”
“Which is taking all the power?” Rachel said.
“Right. And Sheida is stubborn as hell…”
Both looked up as another figure appeared, this one much more familiar.
“Men, women and children of Norau, I bring you grave news.”
“As you’re now aware, the power network has fallen. This message is all the power that is available for me to talk to you. My image is appearing in all places that persons were at the time of the Fall within the former reaches of the North American Union. Which means not everyone will see this, but it is the best we can do at this time.