The General's War

by Michael Poeltl

  He notices his crew seems anxious to reach home, talking excitedly over their consoles to one another, tickled with the possibility of a fight. He views them as young and misguided, regarding them both as lucky having been posted to Mars Station before the Host wars broke out on Earth. Chopra’s been in several Humanist skirmishes and Police actions over the course of his career, joining the military thirty years ago with the intent to protect the people, but sometimes people needed protection from other people, or themselves. He hopes he can make a difference in the general’s war with his three warships, one in which will see his family safely through the hardships of a global war.

  “Captain, we have a message from Luna Base requesting we contact them immediately.” Reports the com officer.

  “Grumman? Why is he using the Luna Base com?”

  “Perhaps the Shadow Brokers have advanced on the base? He may have limited options,” Commander Wilkes suggests, pulling a hand through his neatly trimmed hair.

  It’s odd, he thinks, but we have no reason to ignore their request. It is our destination and any tactical information they can supply on the enemy’s position and statistics will be valuable. “Open the ParaCom line.”

  “You don’t want to clear this with General August?”

  “I don’t.” Captain Chopra says flatly. Still so young, he thinks. The com officer, Lieutenant Drake, nods and face flushes a tint as she fingers her controls.

  “ParaCom communication open, Captain.”

  “Luna Base, this is Captain Chopra. How can we assist you?”

  “Captain Chopra, this is your Chancellor.”

  “Chancellor?! You’re on the moon?”

  “I am, it’s a very long story, Captain, and one I’d like to tell you upon your arrival.”

  “I look forward to it, sir.” He has never spoken to the chancellor, and is afraid it shows in his voice. Drake is looking at him and smiling. ‘The chancellor’ she mouths to her Captain. Chopra sends an amused nod back. “How can we assist you for the time being? We have a full three days ahead of us.”

  “Yes, I know, Grumman has been kind enough to fill us in. You should also know that aboard the three corvettes are a people calling themselves the Chimera. They are altered humans.”

  “Altered, sir? In what way?”

  “They have merged organic with tech. They are ruthless, clever and cunning. I want you to be prepared for the greeting they’ll be planning for you. They want your ships for their own.”

  “I don’t see how three corvette-class warships could stand against two destroyer-class and a goliath, Chancellor, but I do thank you for your candor.”

  “Do not underestimate this opponent, Captain. They have halved Earth defence systems with ten of these corvettes, lost ten and regained three from rebel Hosts who are currently attempting to retake said ships. What’s happening here is advanced warfare, and I’m sure I’m not wrong in speculating that the enemy has now banked considerably more combat hours in space then you and your crew.”

  “I don’t mean to sound arrogant, Chancellor. Your information is most welcome, but perhaps preemptive. If the Hosts retake their ships, the Chimera, as you call them, should pose no threat.”

  “I call them Chimera, because that’s what they call themselves, Captain. Should the Hosts recapture their ships, I will open communications with them and offer you an update. Until then, we look forward to your arrival. Luna Base will be in touch.”

  “The chancellor has ended commuincations, Captain.”

  “Okay, the chancellor is on the moon,” Chopra reiterates. “Hosts are fighting Chimera in space. Chimera - I should have clarified with the chancellor - are the Shadow Brokers? Earth is fighting Hosts, and defending against Chimera.”

  “Sir, earth military are also rounding up Chimera in detention centers all over the world.” The lieutenant adds. “It’s a thread I received back on Mars Station. They’re scouring the Shadow net and raiding the homes of the accused; taking them away.”

  “So, the general has another front to defend against on the ground.” He ponders this a moment. “This Police action against the rebel Hosts seems to have escalated into something even General August couldn’t have predicted.”

  ______________________________________________________________________

  Fran decides it’s time to officially announce military hegemony over the United Earth populace. It is the only way she feels the civilian aspect of this war will fall in line. The detention centers are beginning to attract press now, and as videos of children being pulled from their mother’s arms reach the World net, not to mention the Shadow net; she believes an aggressive move towards culling the opinions of the networks in favour of her rule is imminent. She reasons that the Shadow net will be a far more difficult audience to win over, but perhaps making examples of the Chimera followers will sedate those who sympathize with, or are still considering uniting under their banner.

  She meets with her media officers to discuss this important consideration and to brainstorm the procedures which will win the public’s favour and realize the benefit of military rule.

  “They’re currently living under the pretext of military rule,” Daniels, one the media officers, comments. “I don’t believe there will be any fallout if we were to formally declare our position.”

  “If we don’t force too much change upon them all at once, and ease them into this, it will be less traumatic.” Pinkerton, her lead media officer, suggests.

  “Lockdown has been initiated for their own safety. Military rule is a side-effect of this order. The chancellor knew that when he ordered it, and the people obeyed.” General August’s right-hand man, Major Jackson adds. “If we begin subtly replacing our own banners where the United Earth Government banners currently reside, a subconcious message will start to take effect on the public at large.”

  “Where do you see these banners appearing, Major?” Fran asks, thankful Jackson was able to fly in from the other side of the world to assist as her councel.

  “On any further communications via the World and Shadow nets for starters.” Jackson is a veteran career military man, refusing a rank higher than Major in order to keep his feet on the ground. Fran knows this about the man. His imposing size and and personality command respect from all in his presence. His short-cropped hair remains a jet black regardless his advanced age which reveals itself only in experience. Dark, tight skin pulls his heavy features across his wide face.

  “We could do this in such a way that we stagger the banners with each new statement we issue.” Offers Pinkerton.

  “Yes,” agrees Jackson. “We build to a crescendo with each subsequent message. We do it mathematically through percentages. We should also print thousands of banners in varying sizes. Begin small and eventually hang huge banners from the United Earth Headquarters here, in First City.”

  “I like this plan,” Daniels admits. “Let’s start transmitting more of the vids we’ve prepared which illustrate we’re winning the war against the rebel Hosts. Positive press like that will further capture public buy-in. Place our banner next to the United Earth banner, and we’ll reach them without our underlying message coming into question.”

  “Good thoughts, all of you.” Fran is pleased with the progress. “I want to have a speech prepared so I can address the people personally with the good news. Let’s create half a dozen for release hour to hour, beginning at 1700 tonight.”

  “I would further suggest we begin popularizing the military machine and asking for enrollments. With the new threat of Chimera, we may well need recruits,” Major Jackson adds with conviction.

  “What of public executions of Chimera?” She queries her council.

  “It will act as both a deterrent and a tool for martyrdom,” Pinkerton claims. “That being said, General, if we believe a deterrent will produce the results we’re after, I do not see any reason not to test the theory.”

  “We do not want to aggravate the situation,” Jackson submits. �
�We are seeing an outcry already from families whose children have been detained.”

  “If we execute Chimera who appear volitile, the public will understand,” suggests Daniels. “We could further outfit some with more deadly ammunition. Show them as a threat equal to the rebel Hosts. Place them in league with the Hosts.”

  “An interesting spin, Daniels,” Fran admits. “Let’s move forward with these ideas. Pepper the graphic on our communications, run positive press on victories over rebel Hosts, develop recruitment vids, create the speeches, print the banners, begin placing them, find the most fearsome Chimera, and create a stage for executions in every city. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” The media men say in unison.

  “Then get busy. Jackson, connect with my Generals worldwide and convey our plan to them. Pinkerton, prepare the plan and graphics and send them along with a stage design to be raised in every city square.” She stands and the three men stand at attention. “Dismissed.”

  Fran moves to her office and heats a thirty-second meal. She takes a glass of wine with the meal and studies the battle map at her desk. The Host war is definitely leaning in her favour. People are scared. Hosts are desperate. If it weren’t for the Chimera surfacing, she would have had a relatively easy time of converting the public to military rule, she muses. The Shadow Broker aspect was not anticipated, and proving to be a powerful and cunning adversary. With her head tied up in multiple campaigns, her mind wanders to the moon, the ensuing battle there, and the mars mission pushing headlong to intercept it, and quiet the skies.

  THE KILLING

  In the zero gravity, enemy corvette, Tobias hesitates a moment, and then slowly opens the galley door.

  Three Hosts work above, in the control module. Spreading out below the catwalk, propelling themselves with the railings and walls, the two teams float in opposite directions to flank the Hosts.

  “The Chimera have sealed the bay doors.” One Host can be overheard to say. Another Host is plugged directly into the ships smartwall with a dozen tenticles replacing an arm on its right side.

  “What do you mean, sealed?” Asks the largest of the three.

  “They’ve welded the hull to the doors.” Explains the one hooked up to the smartwall.

  “Wily little things.” The big one barks. “Why had Quinn not planned for this possibility? Are they still in the shuttle bay, Jezebel?”

  “We did not include eyes in our design, Grendel,” Jezebel explains. “I am receiving this information from the ship’s limited sensors. I suggest we launch the control module, rendering this ship useless. If the Chimera gain control, they will release the energy weapon on our fellow Hosts caught between corvettes.”

  This is enough to light a fire under Tobias, ordering the others to brace themselves against a wall and fire on the rebel Hosts. The energy weapons unleash on the unprepared Hosts, shearing the smart-wired one’s tentacles from the wall. Sparks and smoke fog the small bridge.

  “Careful not to hit the console!” Tobias cries through his com as the Host called Jezebel is ripped apart by the weapons fire. The big one, Grendel, turns and jettisons himself into Forge’s group, plowing the Chimera down and crushing two under his weight as he collects them before crashing into the galley wall. A forth Host seems to have been slowed by the energy weapons, now turning to meet the Chimera.

  “Scramble!” Tobias orders when he sees the massive cannon on the chassis of the fourth Host, and his group push off; floating too slowly to avoid being targeted by the Host. Lax, from Country state, Mexico is hit, bursting into a jelly-like material, floating outwards in a perfect sphere.

  The Chimera in Tobias’ group turn their weapons on this monster and cut it in half at the torso. It’s top end spirals forward spinning into the ceiling. Tobias targets its cannon and the beast emplodes. The sound is deafening, but a member of his team’s voice carries over the ringing in his ears.

  “Tobias,” shouts Forge from his corner. “We need you here!”

  He turns to watch as the remaining Host named Grendel crushes the head of one of the Country State, India’s team under its heavy foot while her body thrashes in the zero G. This thing is extrodinary in size and weight, he observes. Reenforced to withstand punishment the likes of which Tobias has never seen. Ten weapons unload their payload into Grendel as he pushes toward Forge. Then Forge pushes off and hits the ceiling hard, firing his rifle all the while. Grendel stops.

  “Is it dead?” asks Bull through his com as the group floats and waits.

  “I damn well hope so,” states Sass, from Country State, Germany.

  Grendel is not dead, though. They watch as his form mutates into something else. coiling into himself, assuming the shape of a massive, steel bubble.

  “Hold your fire,” Tobias instructs. “Take a minute - find a fault in its armour.” Everyone aims their firearm at the metal sphere, allowing their weapons to scan for any weakness. “It’s gone into a protection mode. I see no weak point. Anyone?”

  They each echo Tobias’ findings. What do we do with this, he wonders? Then it’s thrusters open along a portion of the shell and they fire; propelling the sphere into another one of the unsuspecting India State’s Chimera, crushing her, and managing an impressive dent to the exterior wall of the ship. Organic sludge floats through the great room now.

  “Go for the thrusters!” Forge shouts, and each weapon targets them while they burn. Before they can do any damage, the thrusters collapse back into the shell and another set open on the far side, again throwing Grendel toward a group of Chimera. They manage to push off and float to safety while the Host slams into another exterior wall.

  “If he keeps throwing his weight into the ship like this, we’ll end up with a hole!” Bull tells them. “We have to stop it!”

  Is a similar scenario playing out on the other two corvettes, Tobias wonders? “Keep targeting the thrusters. If we can breach its shell, we can stop it!”

  Chimera float from wall to wall, positioning themselves to best target the thrusters as they fire. The odd shot connects and Grendel again stops. Tobias is sweating profusely inside his spacesuit. The read-out on his visor tells him that he has approximately three hours of oxygen remaining, and so the same must be true for all, he speculates. They have to end this now, and then figure out a way to introduce an atmosphere into the ship, if they are going to be effective in three days against the destroyers.

  “Does anyone have charges with them?” Tobias asks. Three indicate that they do. “Good, then while its resting, let’s try to place them. I have a plan.”

  The three with the bombs hurl themselves toward the Host and magnetically secure the charges in a fly-by.

  “Move to the shuttle bay,” he tells them. “I want this thing to follow.” The teams navigate themselves along the walls and dive into the shuttle bay. Grendel awakens and fires his thrusters to follow. The group parts in the middle and Grendel slams into the bay doors, stopping again.

  Tobias directs everyone out of the bay and activates the inner door to seal the Host inside. “Detonate.” The three Chimera activate their explosives via their brain-wave implants and the resulting explosions are heard, and felt, on the opposite side of the door. A red light on a panel turns green again when the read-out explains there has been a rupture of the exterior door. The interior door holds.

  The Chimera rejoice in their victory, applauding Tobias’ tactics. He accepts the congratulations and pushes his way back to the bridge.

  With just nine Chimera left in his group, Tobias is beginning to feel a little lean on soldiers.

  Using his suit’s com, he hails the other two corvettes drifting in orbit on all frequencies, and receives the desired response: Chimera have taken all three.

  “We’ve got a dozen Hosts chewing at our hull at the moment, trying to find a way in.” Reports one of his tribe. “I see them also on your hull, Tobias, and the third ship as well.”

  “It will take them an eternity to burn through the platin
g.” Tobias returns. “Concentrate on restoring gravity and an atmosphere to your ships.”

  “Nothing here suggests those features were included in the design of these ship.” Reports the Chimera manning the third corvette.

  “I will consult Allfather.” Tobias tells them, slips his arms inside the loose spacesuit and swipes the EC on his forearm. The holo penetrates the fabric of the suit allowing him to see the transmission and contact Allfather - but a message he’d missed from his benefactor awaits his attention.

  ::Why do you fight AI Hosts?::

  What, Tobias thinks? ::What do you mean? They are our enemy now.::

  Allfather replies in a milli-second. ::Host is not your enemy. Host is your ally.::

  Our ally? This is not what was promised him; the memory of his initial correspondence with Allfather still fresh in his mind. Tobias has no love for the machines. He’d brought them along on Allfather’s say so, saving them, and then they’d sided with the chancellor; sabotaging the weapons and firing on their thrusters.