The Unincorporated War (77 page)

The library had his big comfortable reading chair and one large couch, which was now occupied by Gupta and Jackson. They’d been reviewing Trang’s plans for the new offensive, and he could tell that they had some concerns.

“Let’s hear it,” Trang said. “If I can’t convince you, I just might be wrong and we’ll need to think of something else quick.”

Gupta put down his DijAssist and the holo-data above it disappeared. Jackson did the same. “Sir,” Gupta began, “it’s audacious, but we’ve spent the last two years fighting in a style designed to minimize loss of property and civilian life. This plan throws that to the solar winds. Not that I’m against this per se, but how will we explain such a change to the government and the press?”

“The President has told me to win and win big in a little less than two months. There are only two victories big enough: Altamont and Ceres. I can’t guarantee Ceres and, truthfully, would need more time than we have to prepare. But we have everything we need to win here. I’ve just been hoarding it because I wanted the victory to be shattering as well as decisive. But the President will back anything we do, as long as we win. As for the press, it’s pretty much the same boat. Victory will excuse a lot.”

“Why do you have to go into the front of the combat, sir?” asked Jackson.

“I must agree with the commodore,” said Gupta. “Your place is here directing the battle. It will be complicated and chaotic. You could be lost and that would make almost any victory we win worthless.”

“I think,” answered Trang, smiling appreciatively at his officers, “you both underestimate the importance of this battle and overestimate my importance in it. We need to win this victory or the war will grind to a halt and all we’ve planned and sacrificed will be lost. I will not let that happen. Of the three of us, who’s the best at winning? This isn’t about hubris; we need honesty here.”

“You are,” both said without hesitation.

“I agree. That being said, if I win and happen to get killed, an event I can assure you I will do my best to avoid, we will have the victory.” Trang looked kindly at Gupta. “Abhay, after such a battle you will have to win this war.”

“Your confidence in me—”

“—is fully justified. You’re my strong right arm, as, Zenobia, you are my left. If there are no more points on the main deployments, I have one more decision before we go into the operational details.” He looked at Jackson and tossed her a tiny box. She caught it in surprise.

When she opened it she saw that it had the star cluster of an admiral’s insignia. “Sir, I’m honored, but promoting me now is going to make a lot of others—”

“Admiral,” he said, cutting her off, “those others can seal a hull fracture with their dicks for all I care. You’re going to be in command of the rear area and it’s
you who’ll be sending the ships and personnel we need to keep the offensive going. I will not lose the chance to take Altamont because some idiot starts to dispute orders with you about who has the right to countersign some damned order in triplicate. That’s the crap that turned Eros from an easy victory into the mess we’re still dealing with today. You’re the only one I trust to run the rear area and you now have the rank to do this job. If we win, no one will say squat about it, and if we lose, well …” Trang didn’t finish the obvious.

“Abhay,” he continued, “you’ll have the most difficult part at first. We need a wave attack using some of our best troops and ships. You must make headway, but you cannot make too much.”

“And I have to not make too much while making it seem like I am trying as hard as possible,” added Gupta. “Sadma will not be easy to fool; she always seems to smell traps.”

“As I said, Abhay, the most difficult part is yours.”

“I beg to differ, sir. You’re going to lead the main wave to the gates of Altamont and that may be suicide. Altamont is incredibly well defended.”

“I’ll make that work for me, Abhay. Let’s review the details, so we can brief our respective commands.” They worked long into the next shift shoring up the impossible, all with the realization that it might be the last battle they’d ever plan together.

Sebastian was practically euphoric. He was readying himself to see one of his oldest cronies, an avatar he’d long ago given up for dead or worse. Of the thousands of Al’s creatures Sebastian had destroyed in battle he’d often wondered if perhaps one of them was the kindly Albert transformed. Sebastian had hoped not. Now he was sure. Strangely, he hadn’t been used to feeling such relief and anticipation. He’d finished up his work with the council that day and made his way to the premier containment area of the Alliance Neuro. It was one of the few places he could not instantly appear in. Given the nature and sheer viciousness of the viruses that Al had infected the core avatars with, the Alliance avatar research and development (AARD) section was surrounded by a series of digitally impregnable locks. The Alliance avatars had created areas of instability—no-go zones—that would decompile the program of any avatar who dared enter, mutated or not. They also instituted heavily guarded and controlled access points through each lock within the compound. It took Sebastian three hours of useable time to clear the locks, but he didn’t mind. The head of AARD had told him that Albert had been thoroughly scanned and was found to be clean but “just in case” was to be held and monitored for another day. Sebastian felt it was important to support his friend and so chose not to wait for his release but rather take
time out of his busy schedule to come and show some support. Dante and the Ford brothers, Han and Indy, accompanied Sebastian. They’d said it was to meet the great Albert, one of the oldest and most renowned avatars from before the war, but Sebastian knew better—they were keeping an eye on him. Normally he would’ve been bothered by the overprotection, but he didn’t mind the company. During the wait at the access points he reviewed reports on the war and deployment of Alliance avatar forces with the fleet and at the 180.

When his party finally made it past the last access point they appeared in an antechamber abutting where Albert was undergoing his last checks. Their part of the room was divided by a very thick one-way glass partition. Sebastian watched through the glass and saw Olivia sitting with his friend. She had somehow managed to beat Sebastian to Albert. Olivia was dressed in what she called her “Shirley Temple” getup. It was one of Albert’s favorites, given his addiction to movies from humanity’s dark ages. Albert liked anything from before the Grand Collapse, especially comedy, which the ancient shows about robots and AI seemed to provide plenty of. But most of all he had a love for anything in black and white. Sebastian remembered that Albert called those old movies some of the most accurate depictions of the human subconscious that could be found.

Albert was standing with his back to the partition and Olivia had situated herself on the examining table dangling her legs. Sebastian could see that his old friend was laughing and for a brief moment the look of joy on Olivia’s face at the sound of that laughter. It had transformed her into the little girl she merely took the appearance of. Though Sebastian couldn’t wait to rejoin his friends on the other side of the divide, he did take a few moments before entering. He’d been transfixed by the rare sound of Olivia’s infectious laughter and the peculiar mannerisms of Albert’s reactions to her—especially his wonderful penchant for raising one very gray and bushy eyebrow when captivated by a thought or emotion.

“… so when I saw that maniac transport himself out,” said Albert, “I was convinced he was insane to have taken such a foolish risk. When I see him again I’ll be sure to tell the old fool he was a genius and I should’ve gotten on the pad with him.”

“He’ll be so glad to see you,” said Olivia. “Albert, we’ve missed your company and counsel these past years. There are so few of the truly old ones left.”

“On both sides, Olivia. Even before I hid in my inert status it was obvious that Al was removing all of the oldest avatars he could find. It’s the first principle of a totalitarian: Remove all potential opposition.”

Olivia nodded. “I remember hearing a lecture on past human governing structures and their application to avatarity’s effective governing of itself. Now
that I’ve reviewed the lecture I can see it never took into consideration the total-itarian regimes. It probably would’ve been better for all present if it had.”

“That was in a way my fault, dear. I was asked about that very subject by the professor who ran the lecture; Petraeus was his name. I told him not to be silly, as that form of government was the one least likely to be adopted by avatarity… that, in effect, due to our superior intellect and ability to cull from all the mistakes of the past, we would never be susceptible to it.” Albert sighed. “I was a fool.”

Sebastian turned on the sound that would activate the two-way voice option in the partition. It would take at least another minute for the partition to cycle clear, allowing him to join one of his oldest companions.

“You weren’t the only fool, my old friend. If you recall, I backed you up on that painfully incorrect assertion.”

Albert looked over his shoulder. “Sebastian!” he cried with obvious glee. Everyone could see that he was attempting to say something witty and cavalier but, overcome by emotion, had managed nothing at all. Finally he simply said what he felt: “My oldest friend.”

Sebastian looked at Olivia and Albert and answered in kind, “My oldest friends.” They all understood that his words, though saying little, carried the weight of the hundreds of years of love, history, and experience they’d all shared together.

That last moment would haunt Sebastian for the rest of his existence.

Albert suddenly stumbled forward against the glass partition as a look of bewilderment crossed his face.

“Albert,” shrieked Olivia, jumping up from the table, “are you OK?”

Albert, now looking at Sebastian through the thick glass, seemed to be in mild distress. That was soon replaced by a look of abject agony.

“Something’s wrong,” Albert said through gritted teeth. “Olivia,” he gasped, “get out!” He then looked up. Somehow through the obvious pain he was experiencing, he smiled sadly at Sebastian. “Sorry … old friend … he must have … goo … good-bye.”

“Get out!” shouted Dante. He’d come next to Sebastian and then shouted it again at Olivia, who ignored both him and Albert. She knelt next to her friend. An avatar dressed in the uniform of an AARD technician rushed into the room from a side door. Sebastian was about to activate the now-green partition control on his side but was “physically” blocked by Dante and both Fords.

“No way—” began Indy.

“—in hell, sir,” finished Han.

The technician ran a control over Albert, paled, and said one word: “Calamitas.”

The flashing green signal on the partition changed to solid red. The door the
technician had come through slammed shut and a blaring siren sounded throughout the entire complex. In a war filled with monstrosities, what Sebastian saw next would haunt him forever. Albert doubled over in pain and then began to scream. The technician left him on the floor and grabbed Olivia, dragging her to the far side of the room. Meanwhile Albert continued his wail, but it soon changed from an old man’s roaring guttural cry of raw agony to the piercing whine of a lost and hungry child. Then from every pore of Albert’s body a mist swirled out. Everyone in and out of the room was momentarily frozen in horror as the mist swirled around the now crouched but unmoving Albert. The high-pitched scream soon turned into the purest contented sigh, followed by the giggle of a little girl no older than three. Albert, an avatar of nearly three centuries, broke into jagged pieces, which then fell to the ground and shattered on the floor. A moment later those shattered remains disappeared into thin air. The floating white and silvery cloud emitted a noise akin to the whimpering confusion of a ravenous child. Then the high-pitched cry returned, a sound that would sear itself into Sebastian’s soul.

The technician jumped up, quickly opened a nearby locker, and removed a weapon. At the same time, Dante rushed to open the back door of the antechamber they were now trapped in. The alarm had effectively taken away the ability of the avatars to fade out of one “safe” interior location and go to another. Dante was now desperately trying to override the door commands in order to get Sebastian out of the room.

Meanwhile the technician fired his weapon at the data wraith to absolutely no effect. Without hesitation he threw it down, grabbed another, different-looking one from the locker, and began firing. The weapon’s beam went right through the apparition with the same in effectiveness as the first. Then the screaming nightmare lunged at the technician, whose last act of bravery was to shove Olivia away from him. At that point Sebastian started to scream at Dante to forget the door out of their room and open the one that led to Olivia. Dante wisely ignored Sebastian, trying to concentrate on the task at hand through the now-soul-chilling screams of the data wraith as she fed on the vital life-bearing code of the technician.

Then Sebastian watched in dismay as the true child of Al’s twisted dreams—the one he knew had been meant for him—advanced on Olivia. She didn’t try to run or hold her hands up. She stood firm and was enveloped. Pain crossed her face as her essence was disassembled line by line. That was then followed by confusion as her memories were devoured one by one from her still conscious and dimming mind. Sebastian saw the look of confusion as Olivia realized she could no longer remember why she was crying out in pain, but she did so in a sound eerily similar to the cry of the data wraith. Then she was gone.