Cyber-Knife: Apex Predator

by Phil Wrede

  “Then, sir, tell me why you've fought wars you can't win on tens of tens of fronts. Why can't you just close the doors, or nuke the bastards into oblivion?”

  “You'd think nuclear weapons would make sense, wouldn't you? And they do, until you realize that you'd irradiate the very resources you want to take home. Unless you know of a way to get your enemy to cluster itself in a barren wasteland that might as well have been nuked in the first place. If you know how to do that, I'm all ears. As for closing the doors, well, we can't. Once we establish a pathway, we can't close it, even if we demolish our access point. It's not such a concern when there's only lifeless rock on the other side, deserts and canyons we can just pack full of our garbage, but when you're looking at pissed-off savages who want revenge, that's a whole different matter. Especially when they started figuring out how to build their own doors.”

  “You have got to be shitting me, sir.”

  “No such luck, Cyber-Knife. Think of interdimensionality as a Venn Diagram - there are overlapping points, where planes of reality intersect, and those points are where we build doors. But, we're dealing with, as near as we can tell, an infinite number of parallel universes, so that leads to a fuck ton of Venn Diagrams. Every universe intersects with every other universe, so as loath as I am to admit it, other worlds building their own doors was a development fated to happen.”

  “So, what, they stage incursions into our world through their doors?”

  “No, actually. They collude amongst each other, trading knowledge, supplies, and tactics. When one of them develops a new, effective tactic in the fight, we have to be ready to counteract it in about 18 hours, because it takes them about that long to share their information throughout their network. We learned that lesson the hard way.”

  “Tell me how I entered into the equation, sir.”

  “That's simple, solider. You're Cyber-Knife, the baddest motherfucker ever born on American soil, the ultimate killing machine. We designed you to take the fight to the enemy and win, by any means necessary. You're the final key to unlocking the perfect world once and for all.”

  “General, in all my years of fighting, I've never heard a single word about this, any of it. How in the hell do you keep something this big quiet, across the board?” Cyber-Knife asked.

  Sherman looked into Cyber-Knife's eyes; there was some genuine pain behind the General's. “Well, son, that's because you haven't fought this war for nearly as long as you think.”

  The floor under their feet shifted to a bright red color almost immediately, and MOM's voice rang out. “General, do you really think this wise? He's already overcome the seals we placed on his hard drive; he'll find this out on his own time, and we can wait to cross that bridge until we come to it.”

  “I know what I'm doing, MOM,” Sherman said.

  “No, you don't. No one prepared him. You don't know what this could drive him to -”

  “Shut up, MOM!” Sherman yelled, slapping at a switch on his jacket and immediately severing MOM's connection to the room. “That mission, Cyber-Knife, was your first-ever mission. Everything before that, everything you think you've done or experienced, we put that all in here.” Sherman tapped at the side of his head for effect. “Hell, we grew you in a goddamn tube and accelerated your body's maturity to its physical prime. You're only five fucking months old.

  “But, shit, I suspect your victory struck them to their core, and they're going to have to do a complete tactical reevaluation,” Sherman declared proudly.

  “That site was that significant?” Cyber-Knife asked.

  “That was the world where the ARNs were first designed, among the most fortified of their sites. If you can lay waste to a place like that, you can strike anywhere.”

  Cyber-Knife had to know more. “Sir, what about the trio of robots? The ones to whom I spoke before I blew apart the spire. Who are they?”

  Sherman's eyebrows rose and he exhaled slowly. “The Triumvirate. It's the damndest thing, son. We thought the enemy built them like they did the rest of the ARNs, but I've had captives swear to me with a gun to their heads that they didn't. Finding out about them was what got assholes like Denny to start calling the ARNs Alien Robot Ninjas like they were space robots come down here to kick America in the teeth for its ambition. The truth of the matter is that we just don't know.”

  He looked over at Cyber-Knife. “They really tell you they 'are freedom?'”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Shit,” Sherman replied, shaking his head slowly as he stared down at the ground.

  “Well, if you don't mind my asking, sir, what's next?”

  “I hope to get you back into the field as quickly as possible. They'll have an idea of what challenges them by now, but they won't know for sure. The devastation you wrought can't have left many clues they can sift for, and besides, you have something like 299 more missions to go. The iron will never be hotter than right now.”

  Cyber-Knife's mind raced to accept what Sherman had just told him with what he'd accepted as the fundamental truth in the world. He didn't think he wanted to know the answer to this last question, but he also knew he had to ask it. “The Taykinh told me that their mutations were the result of fallout from nuclear attacks. If the robot ninjas didn't attack them...”

  “We sure as fuck didn't do it to save them,” Sherman said. “They're not our people.”

  Cyber-Knife looked around at the glittering city that stretched out both above and below him, the perfectly gleaming, jewel-like world that cruised along idyllically, ignorant of the precipice over which they'd dangled for generations. Their world, existing solely thanks to their willingness to ravenously consume thousands of other worlds. In a moment of cold, clear anger, he knew what he needed to do.

  “Sir, before we start the prep for the next mission, could you take me to see Excalibur?”

  “You do understand it's from the other Earth, the one you left, and not this one, right? We've never found the one from our Earth.”

  Cyber-Knife didn't, but he nodded anyway. “That's beside the point, sir. We grew close during the operation, and frankly, it feels strange not having it around.”

  “Of course,” Sherman replied. “We've got it held in a secure location, but I'll get it sent up immediately.”

  “And in the meantime, I'll return to my room and finish putting on my uniform. It'd be nice, at least this one time, to appreciate the pomp of the environment.”

  “I'll walk with you.”

  They made the walk back into the building proper in relative silence. Cyber-Knife felt too consumed with his own thoughts to make a proper conversation partner, and General Sherman had mostly talked himself out explaining the real nature of the world, so he wasn't too keen on forcing chitchat that didn't otherwise come naturally to either one of them. Besides, the little communications bug that all high-ranking officers had implanted in their ears had started chirping at him, and he didn't want to split his attention if he didn't need to.

  “For what it's worth, son,” Sherman said, extending his hand, “you took this news a lot better than anyone at the top thought you would.”

  “Except you, of course,” Cyber-Knife replied, taking the general's hand in his own.

  “Of course.” The general winced a little as the flesh of his hand came in contact with the cold metal of Cyber-Knife's. A terse handshake later, and Cyber-Knife had disappeared back behind the wall to his room. Sherman could turn his attention to the words that had been hissing in his ear. “What do you mean when you say, 'disturbing readings?'”

  “Our monitoring devices picked up all the classic signs of stress, but even beyond that, they could decode some of the images running through his mind. They conform to a very specific subset of imagery that always correlates to an imminent upswing in aggressive behavior,” said the technician who'd been observing Sherman's entire interaction.

  “So, what,” Sherman said through gritted teeth, “you're telling me that
, what, a day with eyeless mole monks undid the conditioning we wrote into his DNA and armored with software?”

  “I don't try to draw conclusions, sir,” the technician stammered, “just provide you with data. But, if you asked me to interpret that data, I would say that's exactly what's going on.”

  If the tech could have seen the expression on Sherman's face, he would've been doubly glad their conversation only took place over audio. “Listen to me, you little shit-weasel, do you know who the fuck you're talking about? Fucking Cyber-Knife, the ultimate fucking killing machine, created to be the greatest, most loyal soldier in American history from the amino acids up. If you ever question his patriotism again, I'm going to rip your head off, use it as my personal toilet for the next three years, and employ technology to keep you alive while I'm doing it. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir,” the tech squeaked before signing out.

  Sherman wanted to kill something. He always did - it was a side effect of the hundreds of thousands of steroid injections he'd undergone after enlisting - but this time it felt so much worse than usual. He didn't want to believe what the little desk-bound pansy had told him, but the computers wouldn't lie. What if the earth fuckers had gotten to his soldier? What if he refused to go on another mission? What if he decided his own people acted in the wrong?

  They couldn't scrap the program. They'd invested too many resources in it already. What they could do, though, they could shut him down. Wipe his memory. Rewrite it. Cut out the problematic parts, if it came to that. Project Cyber-Knife hadn't failed, for it was always a work in progress. Maybe he'd even submit willingly, if enough of him remained in there not perverted by those otherworldly abominations.

  Sherman turned as the clipped sound of a running soldier's boots echoed down the hallway. The soldier waved at his general, Excalibur in his hand. Sherman nodded, once, and the soldier kept eye contact with him all the way as he approached. As he got closer, Sherman could see the rifle slung across his back, and the sidearm strapped to his thigh.

  “Private First Class Bentham here, sir, reporting with Excalibur as ordered,” the soldier said as he came to a stop and saluted his general.

  Sherman returned the salute. “You made good time, Bentham.”

  The private looked a little abashed. “Truthfully, sir, I had just tried to sneak a look at it when the order came down. You don't get many opportunities in this life to cast your gaze on the legendary weapon to end all legendary weapons.”

  Sherman extended his hand. “No, Private, you really don't. I can take possession of it now, until Agent Cyber-Knife returns from his quarters.”

  Bentham looked hesitant. “I apologize, sir, but protocol and procedure dictate that I hold onto the sword until relieved of it by Cyber-Knife himself,” Bentham said. “Particularly when you consider its origin.”

  “Then, wouldn't you say fortune favors us all this day?” Cyber-Knife broke in as he quietly emerged from the room. He'd tightened the tie around his neck, buttoned the jacket closed, and even tied up his hair in a loose ponytail so that he could fit his cap on his head. “You can put the sword in my hands and relieve yourself of the burden.”

  Even with all of his doubts, all of his concerns, Sherman had to concede that his cyborg super-soldier looked every inch as he'd hoped. That just made what he had to do next all the more difficult. “I'm afraid I can't allow the private to do that, son,” Sherman said, stepping between Bentham and Cyber-Knife.

  “I'll have to beg you to repeat yourself, sir, because it sounds like you just said I can't have my weapon back,” Cyber-Knife said.

  “You heard right.” Sherman narrowed his eyes, taking another step toward Cyber-Knife. “Bentham, I directly order you to give me Excalibur. Cyber-Knife, we can either do this the easy way or the hard one.”

  “Sir, you don't have to do this, and Private, you most certainly do not,” Cyber-Knife said.

  Bentham tightened his grip around the sword, looking back and forth between Sherman and Cyber-Knife.

  “Bentham, I need you to give me that sword. It and I are of a kind, and we can't stand to be apart from one another for long,” Cyber-Knife continued.

  “Are you refusing a direct request from your commanding officer, son?” Sherman said, looking back at Bentham.

  Bentham looked first at the ground, then at the sword, Cyber-Knife, and finally the general. He didn't look at any one thing for long. “It looks like it, sir,” he finally squeaked.

  Sherman shook his head, then reached out and grabbed Everton by the neck. The private started turning blue almost immediately, his lips frantically flicking themselves out in any direction, trying to draw oxygen into his system. Sherman pulled him close, until their faces were only centimeters apart. “You disappointed me, Bentham.”

  Sherman wouldn't let go. Even as the private passed out, the general made no bones about the fact that he would not let Bentham's insolence go unpunished. He squeezed so hard that Cyber-Knife could hear bones snapping and muscle compressing. Even when Bentham's head lolled to the side, and it became hideously clear that he'd died, Sherman wouldn't let up. Blood gushed out of his eyes as they rolled lifelessly back into his head. With a stomach-turning popping sound, Sherman applied so much force to Bentham's neck that his head dropped clear of his body, and blood exploded all over Sherman and the hallway. Excalibur fell from the private's lifeless hands, but Sherman managed to grab it before it even hit the ground.

  Cyber-Knife raised his hands to his neck, undoing his tie and throwing his hat to the floor. He sighed softly, “How could you tell, sir?”

  Excalibur's blade sang against the sheath as Sherman removed it, bringing it into a one-handed guard across his face. “Even if we hadn't gone over every thought you had while you were over there, we had you under sixteen different kinds of observation from the moment you came back. It wouldn't surprise me if we knew your plan before you came up with it. MOM sure did. I hate it when that bitch is right.”

  “You have to know that I won't kill another world for you. Let me go, without anyone else dying.” Cyber-Knife laid his jacket on the floor and began to reroute the power for his internal plasma blaster to a series of emitters just below the metal skin of his right hand. He hoped he could reason with the general, but didn't imagine he'd succeed.

  “I'll only let you go to one place: the lab, so the engineers and surgeons can cut this hippie shit out of you and return you to your previous, pristine state. The military's invested way too much in you to just let you go, and I staked my career on this project's success.”

  “If you won't let me go,” Cyber-Knife said with some finality, “then I guess I'll have to go through you.”

  “Wouldn't have it any other way.”

  In a flash, Sherman was swinging Excalibur down at Cyber-Knife. The sword tried to snap off a question just as the attack began: “I say, what is all -”

  Excalibur was cut off mid-sentence as it smashed into Cyber-Knife's right arm. No matter how sophisticated the cyborg's parts and technique were, his defense was a mostly futile gesture, as the enchanted sword could cut through any material in any reality. Fortunately, the metal of his arm never made contact with that of Excalibur, as a plasma shield managed to snap into being around Cyber-Knife's arm just in time to deflect the impact. Excalibur glanced away, throwing Sherman off-balance with it.

  Cyber-Knife wouldn't let an opportunity get away from him. He pressed the advantage, getting in close to Sherman and smashing him once in the stomach, and again across the nose. The general recoiled, somehow keeping a firm grip on Excalibur. Cyber-Knife planted his foot and spun around, nailing Sherman right in the chest with a vicious spinning kick. Sherman grunted, dropping to his knees.

  Sherman lunged at Cyber-Knife, thrusting Excalibur at his knees. The general caught some of his uniform pants with the blade, but Cyber-Knife leapt into the air just as Sherman moved. The commando brought his feet clear over the general's head and kicked him in the
back, knocking Sherman right to the floor.

  “Had enough, sir?”

  “Are you kidding me? In my day, we ate arrogant pieces of shit like you for breakfast.” Sherman raised his gaze to the ceiling. “Command? Do the thing.”

  Someone must have flipped a switch or something, because it felt like he'd set off a grenade packed with lightning in Cyber-Knife's gut. He doubled over, clutching his sides and burning his uniform before the safety features in the plasma shield kicked in and turned the thing off. Cyber-Knife dropped to his knees, staring daggers at Sherman through barely-open eyes.

  The general pulled himself to his feet, using Excalibur as leverage. “Pretty neat, huh? You forgot the downside to announcing your intention to betray the people who built you. We know how to take you apart. The pain'll dissipate in a little bit, but only because all your circuits will have burned themselves out. You won't move again unless we let you; hell, you'll barely be able to breathe without our say-so.”

  Sherman walked over to Cyber-Knife and leaned in close. “Let me give you some free advice: next time you think you can fuck me over, just jam this sword up your own ass and save us all a lot of trouble, all right?”

  Cyber-Knife struggled to look up at the general. “I'll do you one better, sir,” he whispered as he pushed through the pain, raised his arm and let loose a plasma bolt that cut across Sherman's chest and through his face. The general fell to his knees, holding onto his wretched life through sheer force of will and pharmaceuticals, even though the flesh had burned away from near half his face, all the way down to the bone.

  Cyber-Knife snapped open the syringe on the little finger of his right hand; he'd drawn such an infinitesimal quantity of the spider's venom that it hadn't even shown up on a tactical scanner when the Army had retrieved him. He didn't need much. He jammed the needle into what remained of the general’s jugular, and the poison raced through Sherman’s system in an instant. “You have my permission to fuck yourself.” The general dropped to the ground without even screaming, the smoking wreckage of his skull chipping against the white tile. Cyber-Knife fell on the floor himself a moment later, exhausted for the moment.