The General's War

by Michael Poeltl

  “And you will, you have! I’ve just sent an address stating as much,” Raymond moves to meet Quinn. “Host, human, and Chimera, working in tandem to end the needless suffering on earth caused by General August’s war.”

  “Yes, and when the war is over, I have a request of you. One which has Captain Chopra’s support.” Quinn explains his goals as he’d put them to Chopra, and the means to which he and others like him could achieve them.

  “An interesting plan,” the chancellor agrees, admitting to himself that the prospect may be perilous. Raymond hates to think of these well-meaning Hosts disappearing into the vastness of space following a dream they may never realize. Then, what if they were to fall under the Allfather’s spell once more, returning to wipe out humanity with the very ships he’s provided? “Of course, you will have whatever means you require to pursue your goal. Though, I’d ask that should you meet this Allfather, you do not forget your past, our collective past. What Allfather has done is incredible, but it has also cost us much.”

  “Agreed,” Quinn sustains. “But questions must be answered.”

  “I appreciate your coming to me with this request. Consider it done. When we have Mars Station, I will order your goliath’s built. If Allfather does show up before you have the chance to go looking, we’ll have a substantial fleet to meet him on our terms.”

  “Foresight. You are a wise man, Raymond. I have become fond of your reasoning.”

  “And I yours, Quinn. We will make a competent fighting force when we reach earth.”

  “I will return to my team,” Quinn says. “Thank you for not doubting my intentions.”

  “You’ve proven yourself an honourble Host, Quinn, and as we fight together to defeat General August; I know we share the same goal.”

  “We are of one mind, Raymond.”

  “I may put that comment to the test,” Raymond tells him, approaching a subject he’s been meaning to broach. “I have a question for you too, Quinn.”

  “Please,” Quinn says. Labyrinth lifts his small frame up on his back two arms, reaching Raymond’s chest height.

  “You’ve known of Samantha’s plan to release the past life experiences housed on the World net to the public,” he begins. “in order to rally the people behind the Host cause.”

  “I have entered my own as well,” Quinn tells him.

  “As have I, Chancellor,” Labyrinth adds. “Samantha was the first to suggest that strategy, and why she was so well thought of.”

  “She is missed, Raymond,” Quinn asserts. “She did not deserve the end she was handed by Tobias.”

  “No, she didn’t, but perhaps that end was not as meaningless as it would seem.”

  “How so?” Labyrinth asks.

  “I believe Tobias carries her crown with him,” he explains. “Commander Darla has told me as much, leaving the head in his upgraded ship. He must have gone to some trouble to retrieve it after the battle between Host and Chimera. Somehow, she has struck a cord in him.”

  “That is good to hear,” Quinn says. “His humanity has not been forgotten.”

  “Perhaps not,” Raymond circles back to his podium. “Perhaps he saw something in her which changed his opinion about the Allfather code, and his role in designing her to approach me, and begin this war.”

  “This is an important piece of information, Raymond, and I feel better about him fighting alongside us knowing it,” Quinn says.

  “Yes, and so I feel the time is ripe to reveal to the world the Host past lives,” Raymond tells them. “To let the people decide, from what must be millions of lives banked in the World net now, whether Host enlightenment is more than just a coded and downloaded set of vids and holos, or rather the truth Samantha claimed it to be.”

  “With so many new sentient Hosts, the opportunity to find relations to living relatives should be easier than ever,” Labyrinth adds. “Even military personnel may be driven to defect due to the sudden realization that they are fighting their mothers and fathers, or grandparents.”

  “Exactly why now is the time to release the information,” the chancellor states. “But how can we reach the people effectively?”

  “We could route it through the individual’s embedded communication devices,” Labyrinth explains. “It would take some time to hack individual EC’s, but not an impossible feat.”

  “You could perform this task?” Quinn spins around on his axis to address Labyrinth.

  “I could, Quinn, of House Quinn,” he answers. “I would require the ship’s computer to access its vast computing abilities.”

  “I will arrange this with Captain Chopra,” Raymond tells them. “I believe this will assist in turning the tide further in our favour.”

  “Then it will be done,” Quinn asserts.

  “One more thing,” Labyrinth says. “A new past life history has been discovered. One which could also assist in our fight.”

  “Intriguing,” Quinn says. “Explain.”

  “The past life exists in one called Hydra, an altered Host whose claim could be of great value. I believe we should arrange a mission around this Host once we shuttle those willing to return to earth. I have taken the liberty of discussing it with Hydra via the Shadow net, and asked a Cell outside of First City to begin a dig. Hydra will deliver herself there within hours.”

  Labyrinth goes on to explain the relation Hydra claims, along with his proposed plan to infiltrate First City with her.

  “Then discuss this plan with those Hosts who might best fit the mission,” Raymond suggests. “This is excellent information, Labyrinth. You’ve done well.”

  _____________________________________________________________________

  “Look at you,” Tobias enters Nick Wilkes’ cell. “Laying in the bed you made.” He laughs at himself as much as at Wilkes. “Sorry,” his hands go up defensively. “Chimera share an affinity for dark humour.”

  “I’ve completed my speech,” Nick tells him anxiously, sitting up. “If you could review it I’d love that pillow and a blanket.”

  “And you shall have both,” he reaches beyond the door and is handed the items. He tosses them to Wilkes. “I’ve already reviewed the greeting and it should do fine.”

  “Thank you, a bathroom break would also be welcome,” Nick’s furrowed brow meets Tobias’ gaze.

  “The bucket does appear to be getting full,” Tobias notices. “Number two, is it?” Wilkes nods. “Very well, come with me.” Tobias takes him by the upper arm and guides him through the treshhold and down the hallway to the lavitories.

  “You have five minutes,” he tells him and Nick shuffles into the room, the door remains ajar as Tobias watches on. “Leave the stall door open too,” he orders.

  “Trust me,” Nick says. “I am no threat to any of you. Have you considered my appeal to join the ranks of Chimera?”

  “Not seriously, no.”

  “I beg you to,” he pleads. “I want to be more.”

  “Read a book.”

  “I want to be able to do more.”

  “A DIY book then,” Tobias laughs again. “I’m teasing you, I’m sorry, I can’t seem to follow the United Earth text.”

  “I understand,” Wilkes explains. “I’m used to it. Been that way all my life. The only thing that made me anything was joining the military, and even that has proven fruitless.”

  “You were a commander of one of their destroyers?”

  “Until recently, yes. I became captain of the fleet when I realized Chopra was defecting, but then, that didn’t last very long.”

  “But you can pilot a destroyer?”

  “Yes,” Nick sees opportunity knocking. “I could do that for you. For the Chimera!”

  “Yes, yes, I’m sure you could,” Tobias says knowingly. “I’m no stranger to your cunning, Wilkes. I’m not asking you to pilot a destroyer for anyone. I’m simply curious as to whether you could.”

  Nick nods and wipes. He holds his loose shorts at the sink and rinces his hands. “Well, now yo
u know. If you need to call on my skills, you have them.” He moves out of the room and they head back to his cell.

  Tobias returns to the great room where he finds several of the twenty-three Chimera aboard playing out their time. Some are seated by the veiwport, others at the table map and some just engaged in conversation or a game of cards via their EC’s. It’s a good group, he thinks. Ginny is here, talking to Forge who is enthusiastically using his hands to illustrate something. Tobias approaches them.

  “Practicing your karate, Forge?” He asks with a smile.

  “Tobias,” Forge laughs and lands a palm on his shoulder. “Did you know that the moon people stocked our galley with wine?”

  “He’s had some, as you can imagine,” Ginny tells him with a grin, slipping an arm around Tobias’ waist.

  “Moon people! I like that,” Tobias says, laughing and pulling Ginny into him. “And is it good wine?” He turns to Ginny. “I hear the vine tolerates a fairly wide range of soil chemistry, but moon soil?”

  “It’s all hydroponic up there, Tobias,” Forge explains. “And yes, it’s quite good, honestly!” He hands him the bottle.

  “An interesting nose,” Tobias tells them, breathing in the bottle’s bouquet. A swig of the red sets his cheeks aglow. “It is good!” They all laugh and Tobias hands the bottle back to Forge, leaning in to speak. “You have two days to unwind, on the third, we will need you at your best.”

  “And you will have me!” He shouts, raising the bottle. Tobias takes Ginny’s hand and leads her up the catwalk to the captain’s chambers.

  “And you will have me,” she tells him softly, sitting on the bed, crossing one slender leg over the other, unzipping the tall black boot from her calf.

  “I will, but in just a moment, love,” he tells her, scanning the room.

  “Can I help you find something?”

  “My – the head, the crown of the Host I had -”

  “SENTA,” Ginny says. “The one they called Samantha. The one who’d claimed to be your mother?”

  “The same, yes, I had assumed they would have transferred her to this corvette.” He lifts the bed with Ginny still on it and she rolls to her left.

  “She’s here, Tobias, please!”

  “Where is she?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “I want her,” he explains.

  “And I want you,” she crawls over the mattress to meet him on the other side. “Now.”

  “You say the head is here?”

  “Yes, it is, but so am I, and I want your attention.” Her clevage, so pale against the black of her bodysuit, gives Tobias pause.

  “This isn’t a game, Ginny,” Tobias straightens up. “Tell me where she is.”

  She drops the provocative pose and lands her bare feet on the floor, stands, and walks toward the cupboard, waves her hand along a sensor, opening it. She steps back from the opening and thrusts an arm out to reveal the morbid head of his supposed mother in a clear plastic bag.

  “I’m assuming they put her in plastic because of the stench,” Ginny announces. Tobias rushes forward and picks the head up, SENTA’s grey flesh now peeling from its place on the crown.

  “It’s a self-freezing bag,” he mentions.

  “Just like a thirty-second meal comes in. Yum,” Ginny’s sarcasim does not amuse Tobias today. She watches him craddle the head in his arms and pace a moment. “Do you want me to leave you two alone?”

  Tobias fumes. “You’ve said enough,” he tells her. “This is important to me.”

  “Am I not?” She asks, subdued.

  Tobias softens toward her and places SENTA’s head on the dresser. “I’m sorry, Ginny, of course you are. I just - I paniced.”

  She approaches and takes his face in both palms. “Are you taking on too much?”

  “I don’t think so. Wilkes will get us into Mars Station. We’ll take it and hold it.” He tells her. “Then our part is finished until we hear otherwise.”

  She releases her hold on him and steps back to readdress the other elephant in the room. “Is it confusing to have such an attachment to the Host you killed?”

  Tact has never been Ginny’s strength, Tobias knows this, and so he won’t let it upset him now. “She claimed to be my mother, Gin,” he explains calmly. “Even though I know I physically inserted memories from my childhood into her memory banks, even though I was directed by Allfather to awaken her to prompt a war, regardless of those things, I‘m still unable to reconcile her memories. Her existence.”

  “But when you know so much about the process; how could you believe she was anything but a Host with new memories?” Ginny sits and offers a hand to guide Tobias to join her. He takes it.

  “She was so determined,” he tells her. “So much like my mother,” he trails off. “And… then… when she asked me to remember our trips to the AI factories. It scared me, Gin,” he admits. “It scared me so much that I had to stop it.”

  “Because you remember placing those memories,” she says.

  “No, Gin,” he replies. “Because I didn’t place those memories.”

  WAR

  “Major, Jackson,” Fran greets his image on the holo of her EC. “Good news I hope.”

  “With the destroyers now approaching, I have accelerated the preparations to put my order into action,” the major assures her. “We’re ready for them.”

  “Excellent, Major. I’ve had word from the UE Space Station a moment ago that the Defence Satellites are running at sixty-eight percent. They are also tracking the three destroyers and have them within firing range in thirty-five minutes,” General August informs him.

  “That aligns with our estimate as well,” Jackson replies. “I’ve forwarded our defensive strategy to the UE Space Station.”

  “Good,” she says. “Everything is riding on this strategy, Major, if those ships survive the attack, we will be seriously undergunned until a new fleet is made ready.”

  “I’m aware of the stakes, General,” he replies. “I’m counting on the fact that beyond simulations, the captains are as unqualified to be assaulting from orbit as we are in defending against it.”

  “That still places us at a disadvantage,” Fran states.

  “It would if this strategy were in any of the manuals, General,” he explains. “That it isn’t is our best hope at taking them down.”

  “You have my confidence, Major, do not let us down.” Major Jackson’s image disappears and Fran is met with a frantic officer.

  “Ma’am,” he says, wringing his hands. “New stats coming in from the Country States.”

  “Alright, spit it out,” she says, stepping back from his anxious energy.

  “Ma’am,” he takes a breath. “Analytics suggest thirty states have high ranking officers defecting and sabotaging our war efforts. A dozen smaller Lifi weapon factories have been sacked, and large groups of civilian demonstrations are beginning to divert soldiers from their duties. We’re losing eyes everywhere - suspecting Chimera agents hacking the systems and shutting the cameras down.”

  Fran sighs. “Do we still have our satellites?”

  “We do,” he tells her.

  “Then we’re far from blind,” she asserts. “As for civilian protests, I want a dozen G-class dropped anywhere there are demonstrations, have the people forced back. The G-class should strike enough fear into the public to subdue them long enough for our soldiers to do their work.

  “We knew efforts to sabotage the manufacturing facilities would come up, but we have hundreds now, and drones to deliver them. I don’t want the rebels to feel as though they’re gaining any ground. Thirty Country States are a lot, but we have two-hundred. Let’s keep it that way.”

  “General,” he turns to deliver the orders.

  Fran is beginning to feel the negative effects of her war; on her mind and her body. She has not eaten enough, not slept nearly enough, and feels the weight of a loss bearing down on her. Her staff in the war room also look fatigued, but she’s hesitant
to have them relieved due to the growing resitance in her own ranks. She locks herself away in her office once more and opens a bag of low fat, low flavour potato chips. She sits on her leather couch and shovels the food into her mouth. A half glass of wine teeters on the wide arm rest next to her and she dutifully grabs it up, washing down the salty snacks, finishing the remainder of the glass in one gulp. She wipes her wet mouth and stands to retrieve another bottle of the white Zinfindel.

  Next, she pulls up her earth holo and zooms in on a northern Country State where the rebels are making the most headway. Here she can pinpoint any one of her soldiers’ bodycams, eavesdropping on the war she’d so desperately wanted. A platoon of twenty can be seen walking through a devestated section of one of the cities. The platoons’ history reads along the wall of the holo informing her that they had started with a compliment of fifty soldiers and four G-class. Their mission at the onset was to flush known Cells from the underground. They had lost a considerable number of soldiers in the second Cell, where bombs were set to bury any attempt to enter. They travelled with only one G-class now.