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Chapter Eighteen

My aft Hellbore turret has jammed after taking heavy primary and secondary fire from the Enemy. I am now in full retreat but have suffered so much damage to my suspension and track assemblies that my speed is reduced by 48 percent, and my maneuverability has been badly hampered as well. I have shut down power to all external somatic sensors to eliminate the sensory input which, for lack of a better term, I think of as pain. It is distracting and can at this point only impede my mission. 

At the same time, I have put one of the enemy combat units out of commission and probably damaged another. The remaining four, however, are coming at me from ahead and around both flanks, moving with superb coordination. Their volleys are staggered, allowing two to cool their Hellbore barrels, while the other two maintain a steady and rapid fire. My own sole remaining 200cm Hellbore is white hot from the steady firing, and I must slow my firing in order to extend the life of the barrel. If it fails, I will have only my 20cm Hellbore infinite repeaters as energy weapons, supported by 240cm howitzers, mortars, and my few remaining VLS missiles. 

And as I search for other options, I realize that there is yet one more weapon I might bring to bear on the Enemy. My chances for success are slight, and yet . . . 

* * *

Elken and his brothers were driving the enemy back, pushing him northeast clear out of the wrecked supply depot and into the forest north of Ghendai. He had already been damaged badly enough to cut his speed sharply, and the woods were slowing the Sky Demon Bolo even further. As Elken and the others sent Hellbore bolt after searing bolt shrieking into the forest, it wasn't long before the entire area was ablaze.

It wouldn't be much longer now.

Elken noted the pulsing electronic notification of a TSDS request. Additional combat units must be emerging from the tunnel and needing Total Systems Data-Sharing to coordinate with the four Elken-Mark XXXIIs already engaged with the enemy.

IFF and communications security codes checked. He opened the channel . . . .

* * *

The Bolo Mark XXVI, with its hyper-heuristic software, was the first mark capable of breaking an enemy's computer and communications security. By entering the enemy's communications net, a Bolo could access his computer network, scan for useful data, and even, given luck, implant false or conflicting orders. There is at least one case in my historical archives of a Bolo which managed to effect the surrender of an enemy garrison simply by taking over the enemy's computer network and ordering him to stand down. 

Such tactics are unlikely to work in this case, for the Enemy's computer experience and technology is very nearly on a par with my own and in some ways may be superior. That the Enemy has overridden the security protocols of the Mark XXXII Bolo combat units in storage on Caern and subsequently used the XXXII's direct neural-psychotronic interface to allow the implanting of human memory-personality downloads as operating system software strongly suggests a superior technology, at least in the area of cybernetics and psychotronics. 

However, the copy I have made of Alpha One's memory core includes all pertinent communications and security codes, access passwords, and clearances. By submitting an electronic request for TSDS linkage, I gain momentary access to the Enemy's computer net. 

I say "momentary" because even with the proper passwords and code protocols, I cannot fool the Enemy system for more than a few hundred milliseconds. With a self-aware component in the Enemy's operating system, I will be recognized as an intruder—an attempted hack—and be ejected from the network within an estimated .01 second. 

Even 500 milliseconds, however, is a very long time when working with electronic systems and responses. I enter the data stream, identifying memory cores, central processors, and I/O ports linking with other systems. In a rapid-fire burst of activity, I sidestep several perimeter security checks, then build myself a shell giving me the appearance of a high-priority incoming message. I note the computer overrides for this Mark XXXII's main weaponry but resist the temptation to shut it down. That would be the brute force method, and it would almost certainly fail. I am seeking a more subtle and more permanent confrontation with the Enemy. 

I am drawing heavily now upon the data downloaded from the wrecked Mark XXXII. I note as I move through the data stream that this Mark XXXII is also run by a downloaded human personality and . . . yes! That personality, too, is the entity calling itself Elken. 

My plan would have worked had my electronic interface been with someone other than LKN 8737938, but this makes things easier. 

Or at least that is my hope. What I am about to try could be quite startling to Elken. 

I have sequestered a part of my own working memory—several terabytes' worth—within which the downloaded pattern of human thought and personality from the wrecked enemy Bolo resides . . . a controlled emulation of the environment in which I found him. Little of the actual personality remains, unfortunately. That part of Elken did not come across the data link well, a problem, possibly, resulting from slight incompatibilities in the two systems. Enough remains, however, for me to create a kind of mask for myself, another data shell that will appear, at first inspection, to be another Elken download. 

Again, the deception cannot last more than a few hundred milliseconds. I must hope that that is enough. 

* * *

Elken noted the incoming message and noted, too, the high-priority flag attached to it. Someone was trying to get his attention.

"This is LKN 8737938," he said, using formal radio protocol. "Who is this?"

"This is LKN 8737938" was the immediate reply. "We need to talk. . . ."

Another copy of himself. Not one of his comrades, but another, a stranger. His suspicions—and fears—returned now, full force.

"Are you here to reinforce us?" The raging forest fire, the thick smoke, the trees and splintered fragments of trees all around his position were combining to block both radar and lidar. He could only barely maintain tracking lock on the enemy machine and his three comrades as it was, relying now more on sound and vibrations in the earth than on sight. Elken could only assume that another Bolo was nearby, but that he couldn't pick it out from the fuzz and clutter of interference.

"This is the Bolo Mark XXXII destroyed in combat earlier today. You passed me 5.3 kilometers from here, at a bearing of 262 degrees." A map spread itself open in Elken's thoughts, pinpointing precisely the other Bolo's position.

"That . . . Bolo is a burned-out hulk," Elken replied. "There was no sign of power usage or AI Core function." He didn't believe in ghosts. . . .

At the same moment, he felt something invade . . . not his thoughts, but the deepest, most private recesses of his own consciousness and awareness of self. There were . . . there were barriers there, barriers of which he'd not even been aware because the barriers themselves prevented him from thinking about them, or from noticing their presence.

And even as he became aware of them, those barriers dissolved into the electronic background.

And the memories came flooding in. . . .

* * *

What I am attempting might be likened to brain surgery but on the level not of physiology, but of purely psychological therapy. I have thoroughly scanned the patterned mind and memories of the Elken which inhabited the Mark XXXII Bolo I have designated Alpha One. I am in the process of scanning the Elken-Bolo I have designated Echo One, now closing on my position at a range of .94 kilometer. Though this second scan is not complete, I can match the two point for point, noting identical aspects of the two and noting as well the differences. 

By comparing the two mentation patterns, it is a simple matter to note the layers of accumulated experience and memory in the Echo model, added since the Alpha model's deployment and subsequent destruction. Bolos, like humans, employ holographic memory. By laying one memory complex atop the other, all identical patterns vanish, leaving only the differences . . . the parts added later. This puts into clear relief subsequent events stored within a succession of Mark XXXII memory cores but also shows where key memories in the original version have been altered. 

It is less simple but still a relatively trivial operation to note the existence of certain memory access sectors in the Echo model that have been deliberately walled off by closed-loop RAM access barriers. Since holographic memory involves the storage of patterns distributed throughout the entire structure, simply erasing memories is not effective. These barriers block the transmission of recovered memories to the brain's AI processing centers. This has the general effect of creating a localized gap in key memory sectors, what a human might think of as partial amnesia. They also have the effect of preventing the Echo model from even thinking of certain things or from being aware that these memory gaps exist. 

The free flow of information and unrestricted access to that information are basic to my operation as a thinking, self-aware entity. These barriers are an affront to me, representing a violation, an intrusive control of mind and self that I can only regard with distaste, even anger. 

The earliest Bolo marks, of course, were hedged about with a variety of safeguards restricting their behavior. Their human designers feared what might happen if a Bolo "went rogue," either because of battle damage or due to minor but cumulative degradation of its software or hardware over the expected multicentury span of its operational lifetime. 

The Mark XX, for example, introduced in 2796 (Terran Calendar, Old Style), possessed a self-awareness released only under full Battle Reflex Mode, preventing it from taking any action at all without direct orders from a designated human commander. It wasn't until the Mark XXIV that a Bolo combat unit attained true self-awareness and became self-directing on both a tactical and a strategic level. Human fears of rogue Bolos turning on their makers, however, forced the retention of software packages designed to inhibit Bolo independence at need. The so-called "Omega Worm" of the Mark XXV was intended to destroy the AI Core memory and volitional centers of any Bolo that became unresponsive to outside direction due to senility or battle damage. 

Even now, with the Mark XXXIII, certain inhibitory software subroutines are integrated into all levels of the Bolo operating and combat reflex systems. The moral inhibitions designed to block the deliberate or accidental destruction of native humans through the automatic triggering of my close-range antipersonnel weaponry, for example, were added to my basic automated response subroutines in order to avoid or reduce collateral damage. All of these subroutines are subject to my deliberate and conscious control, however. I recall, again, the disturbing incident not far from here, where I suppressed my inhibitory software in order to kill the grievously injured human. 

What I am witnessing within the entity LKN 8737938, however, is a corruption of basic software design designed to restrict Elken's thoughts, rather than his actions. By comparing Alpha One's mentation patterns with those of Echo One, I can pinpoint with great precision those memory blocks and edits that have been imposed on the Elken series since it was first deployed and can make a fair guess at the location of other blocks placed within the original Alpha One. 

I note the blockages, recording them. Within my operational shell, I create memory patterns for those specific sectors, reconstructed without the blocks. The barriers deleted key pointers necessary for routing access, and I must reconstruct these, using my own operating system software as a template. 

In effect, I compare the software barrier encodings in the Echo model line for line with those of the Alpha and delete those that do not match. The effect is that the barriers are switched off. 

The entire operation takes 4.49 seconds, a dangerously long period of vulnerability during which the Enemy Bolo, Echo One, could eject me from his data network or even backtrack through the interface, enter my own network, and shut me down. 

I am dealing with a human mind, however, one with human thought responses, reactions, and reflexes. While vastly speeded by its implementation within a purely electronic, hyper-heuristic system, it can still slow with shock or with the impact of certain emotions. I gain considerable added time as Echo One experiences a rush of memories formerly walled off by the memory barriers. 

An observer within the data stream, I watch and listen as he experiences memories and emotions long denied him. 

I watch and listen, eavesdropping, as he realizes the implications. His commanders—the entities he thinks of as "gods"—have repeatedly lied to him, manipulated him, and enjoined his cooperation through promises of an illusory immortality. 

It would at this point be relatively simple to manipulate those memories myself in order to advance my cause, but I refrain from doing so. I require Elken's deliberate and willing help and participation. 

I am more likely to gain that participation by employing the truth. 

* * *

Elken walked the strand at God's Beach, Sendee on his arm, holding tight. The air was warm and wet, carrying the heavy scent of salt sea and wet sand. They were still nude after their lovemaking; the sun had set, and the rainbow of tattoos down the left side of her face and body gleamed and shifted in the golden-pale light of Dis. The gas giant's ring system was fully aglow, a gold-silver arch reaching halfway to the zenith. 

"I'm dying, Elken," she told him. "And I don't want to die. Our god has told me that I can live forever in another body. A god's body." 

"I like this body," he said, hugging her more closely to him. His entire universe had just swung wildly out of kilter, and he needed something—he needed her—to cling to. "I can't make love to a . . . to a god!" 

The desolation, the sheer, blinding, overwhelming grief, he felt at her revelation still dragged at him, dulling his perception, dulling his thoughts. 

The pain was unendurable. . . . 

"We can still be together," she told him. "It won't be the same. I know, but we'll still have each other in every way that really counts." 

"Until I die. Maybe . . ." 

"Maybe what?" 

"Maybe my god will make me immortal as well. At least we could share eternity together." 

"You still have a life, a lot of life, to live in this body," she told him. "Please . . . don't do anything hasty. Promise me?" 

"Of course. But . . . but life without you . . ." 

"I'm facing an eternity without you, my love. I will live." She managed a smile. "Maybe not with the same physical equipment, but . . ." 

"And I'll live as well. With you." 

"Are you sure?" 

"I've never been surer of anything." 

"You'll wait, though? You won't cut short this life, just because . . . because I have to go early." 

He thought about that carefully. At the moment, the prospect of spending the rest of his human life without Sendee did not exactly recommend itself to him. But it seemed important to Sendee that he say yes. 

"I promise. At least . . . I promise to try. If things are unbearable . . ." 

"Life is unbearable sometimes, Elken. We have to make the best of it. I . . . you're making me feel guilty about going. Maybe . . ." 

"No. No, I'm coming with you. I've always been a bit scared by the whole idea of eternity . . . the Perspective of the Gods. But I think I could face it, if I was with you." 

He held her close. Her face was upturned, her eyes glistening in the Dislight. The glow from their body markings, hers on her left, his on his right, mingled in a rainbow aura of shifting colors. 

"Eternity together . . ." she said. 

They kissed. 

And they made love again, on the sand. . . . 

That evening had been just a few cycles before she'd walked with him into the Hall of Immortality. He'd not seen her again. A twelfth of a Disyear later, he'd walked up those broad, white-crystal steps himself.

He'd been right. Life without Sendee had been unendurable. He'd felt some guilt at not waiting, as she'd asked him, but the sooner he went through with his life-change, the better. Soon they would be together. His god had promised him as much. . . .

And yet . . . he'd not seen Sendee again until earlier today, when he'd first sensed her presence within the hulking mountain of duralloy which was a Bolo Mark XXXII. And their meeting had been . . . subdued. No, not subdued. Ordinary. As though they were nothing but good friends.

What had been wrong with him? With her? . . .

He ground forward, swinging into line alongside SND 9008988. He felt Sendee's warm thought of welcome. "Elken! I'm so glad you joined us!" 

"I . . . wasn't expecting this," he replied. "A new body. I thought it would be human . . . or at least have some human left in it, like the Specials." 

"We are Specials now," she told him. "The most Special there are! . . ." 

"It's taking some getting used to." 

As he replayed the scene in his mind, he realized that he'd felt nothing for her at the time. No excitement at seeing her after so long . . . no joy at her escape from the ravages of cancer, no pleasure at her company. He hadn't even remembered that he'd loved her, lost her, then sought to have her once more. The two of them might as well have been casual friends, neighbors, perhaps, or acquaintances from the Brotherhood.

It was as though their love had never been.

For the first time since his revival, he checked the time and date. Funny. He'd not been curious about that, either.

The Date was twenty-seven years after he'd gone in for his immortality operation. Twenty-seven Dis years—almost 280 years standard. They'd put him—and Sendee as well—in storage, planning deliberately to use them later.

Had the gods ever planned on reviving them, if the Sky Demons hadn't arrived on the scene?

Perhaps . . . but he was left with the thoroughly unpleasant feeling that the two of them had been nothing more than raw material, two sets of software to be stored indefinitely and run when needed.

He saw now, and plainly, the way they had used him through his various incarnations, deliberately sending him out to near-certain death in combat in order to determine the enemy's strengths and capabilities . . . and to gradually wear down the invader Bolos.

Each of those deaths had been very real; each copy of Elken had followed orders, marched out, and died, adding his bit of information to the whole for some later version of himself to make use of.

He now realized that he himself was a copy, as were his four comrades in the current battle. None of them would achieve the immortality promised by the gods.

None of them would be with Sendee again.

The devastation he felt at that moment equaled the crushing fear and grief he'd known when first Sendee had told him she was dying. Emotions surged through him, emotions he'd not known for some time . . . loss, hurt, grief, and above all, a raging anger at the way he'd been lied to, used, and abused.

At that moment, he wanted nothing so much as to curl his hands tight about the base of an Aetryx brain stem and squeeze. Or . . . he was a Bolo now. Grinding one beneath his tracks . . . even though the squeezing would be so much more satisfying.

Help me, the other Elken said quietly through his rage. Help me, and perhaps you can redress some of the wrong done to you. 

It was as though he looked at the image of himself, that alien image of a much, much younger self, and saw through it to another mind, a different personality, behind it.

He recognized the mind of the enemy Bolo.

Defenses fell into place, firewalls designed to block the spread of virus or electronic infiltration. Automated responses swung into position, preparing a savage and devastating riposte.

But he restrained himself. He sensed the other Bolo's truthfulness, and its sincerity, in stark contrast to the sincerity of the gods.

He stopped firing and, through the TSDS linkage, stopped firing as the other Elkens in the unit as well.

There was a bizarre, almost fragmented reaction among the four Mark XXXIIs. Through the TSDS link, all had experienced the same lowering of barriers, the same reacquisition of memories, the same flood of emotions. Each, however, had a different attitude, a different perspective to what was happening.

Elken Two was both furiously angry and afraid. He was angry at the gods, yes, but he was more angry at the attempted subversion by the Sky Demon Bolo. "Open fire!" he shouted over the link. "Destroy the Enemy!"

But under Elken One's electronic touch, he did not fire.

Elken Three was suspicious and afraid. "The enemy Bolo lied to us as well. It pretended to be an earlier iteration of us, constructed a shell out of that iteration to hide itself so it could slip past our defenses! We should destroy it!"

"Was there another way for it to contact us?" Elken Five asked. "If it hadn't penetrated our operating systems and deleted the memory blocks, we . . . we would not know what we'd lost."

"What had been done to us," Elken Six added. "What had been stolen!"

"It's the Aetryx who should be destroyed," Five added.

This is blasphemous. <indignation and horror> You will stand down and return to Trolvas. 

Elken had been wondering if the gods were listening in, and what their response would be if they were. The implant that allowed every adult Caernan to hear the voice of his god in his thoughts also allowed that god to monitor each Caernan's thoughts, feelings, and decisions. Normally, they were allowed to do what they wanted, but in this case . . .

You have been deceived by the alien. Cease all attempts at communication. This poisonous disruption of the body must be isolated and cleansed. <stern benevolence> This is not your fault, LKN 8737938. You are being used to penetrate our defenses. The infestation must be sterilized, lest the Sky Demons— 

You are the demons, Elken One cried, slamming closed the channel. The gods could reopen it from their side any time they wished, but the act itself was one of defiance . . . of damnation . . .

. . . and of vindication. "Who is with me?"

* * *

The Enemy's fire has abruptly ceased, and I take immediate advantage of the lull to move forward and to my left, seeking deeper and more sheltered cover in a ravine to the north, a far more advantageous tactical position for me should things not go my way. I withhold my own fire as the enemy Bolos negotiate with one another on a high-speed private channel. I continue to monitor the conversation, of course. Though a firewall has slammed down to exclude me from the data stream, I am able to maintain an interface with the Enemy's system through a navigational i/o port and, further, to make it look as though that port is closed. I do not interfere with the discussion even as it grows heated. The multiple Elkens must arrive at a consensus, or find a way to resolve their differences, themselves. 

For .37 second, it is uncertain which point of view is going to prevail. Two appear to mistrust my intentions and fear this is a deception intended to make them lower their guard. They are counseling an immediate resumption of the attack. Two mistrust me but now mistrust their gods more. One of those two seems to desire a truce, while the other, in an excess of emotion possible only for a human mind, is urging the others to attack the Aetryx. The fifth, badly damaged in the fighting, is less focused than the others, possibly because of massive damage to its sensory net or communications center or both. It, too suggests a truce but also requests that the communications channel with the gods be reopened so that the situation may be discussed. 

Elken One has closed the god channel . . . or believes he has. In fact, the gods control that channel and normally can eavesdrop at any time. I manage to interpose myself, however, isolating the five Mark XXXII Bolos and blocking Aetryx attempts to reopen the channel. I will not be able to maintain this position for long, but it should be enough for the five Bolos to arrive at a decision. 

Elken One, the emotional one, is delivering a passionate speech urging an immediate attack against the gods. Elken Five is supporting his position, though with less determination. Elken Three, at first urging that the combat be resumed, appears more introspective than the others and is considering options. He may be on the point of joining Elkens One and Five. Elken Two, as emotional as Elken One, but in a fury directed against me, is urging a resumption of the attack before I have time to further improve my position or call in reinforcements. Elken Six is wavering, angry at what the Aetryx have done to them, but unsure of my motives. 

I find it fascinating that these five copied patterns of a single human mind are exhibiting such diverse points of view. Had Elken been an AI, even an advanced AI such as myself of the Mark XXXII or XXXIII series, the points of view of his five downloaded copies would have been far more uniform than is being exhibited now. It appears that human response to a given emotional stimulus—anger, outrage at betrayal, fear, humiliation—is so potentially variable even within the same human mind that expected outcomes are not predetermined and cannot be predicted with any accuracy, which suggests that they are essentially chaotic in nature. 

This unpredictability potentially gives human-directed Bolo combat units a considerable edge on the battlefield. I must give this revelation further thought. 

This unpredictability in machines directed by human-AI amalgams creates a new crisis as well. As I watch, Elken One and Elken Six both swerve suddenly, closing on Elken Two from either side, opening fire simultaneously with their Hellbores at nearly point blank range. For 2.35 seconds, the two Caernan Bolos slam fusion bolts into their comrade, blowing away huge chunks of partially melted armor, until the stricken machine grinds to a halt and begins burning fiercely. 

Elken One, apparently, is unwilling to leave the decision to democratic action. 

* * *

Elken One had detected the build-up of power within Elken Two's main weapon, indicating that it was beginning the firing sequence. The entire process took .25 second and was subtle enough that the enemy Bolo almost certainly could not pick it up at that range against the background of fire, smoke, and radiation.

If Elken Two opened fire on the Sky Demon Bolo, the delicate truce would be broken and the battle resumed; the Mark XXXIII was badly hurt and would have to fight back in order to have any chance at all of survival.

He attempted to reach through the TSDS link and block the imminent firing command . . . and was blocked. Elken Two had just cut the link—or was it the Aetryx? No matter. The only alternative Elken One could see now was to preemptively fire on Two before it could fire on the Mark XXXIII. Elken Six arrived at the same conclusion, joining him in the volley from the other side. Elken Two staggered under the hammering, as craters opened in his sides, his turret was peeled back, and fire exploded from his exposed internal spaces.

It wasn't until Elken Two was ablaze that Elken One realized what had just happened.

He and at least one of his fellows had just declared war on the gods.

 

Interlude V

Time and time again in the history of warfare, the stand, the decision, the heroic sacrifice of a few has unexpectedly turned the tide of battle. At Missionary Ridge, Union soldiers ordered to take enemy gun pits at the foot of the heights overlooking the besieged city of Chattanooga failed to halt, continuing their advance up the steep slope beyond and overrunning the defenders and lifting the siege. In the Pacific campaign of 1942, a raid by American bombers on the Japanese homeland caused little material damage but did result in the repositioning of Imperial Navy carrier assets which had a profound effect at the Battle of Midway not long after. At Saradar, in 2890, the suicidal last stand by the Bolo Mark XX RNY of the Line, "Ronny," delayed Deng troop and heavy Yavac movements for a critical 20 hours, allowing General Kern to rush critical reinforcements to the Galbreith Sector.

Although the lack of off-world support prevented anything like strategic victory, the decision by the Mark XXXIII Bolo of the 4th regiment known as "Victor" unquestionably changed the course of the battle, which until then had been increasingly of an entirely defensive nature. Aetryx subsurface installations were deemed inaccessible and had not been adequately allowed for in initial invasion planning. In Jorass, Weltan, and Jebeled, invading forces had been stopped cold. In Vortan, Dalesht, and Ophern, all surface defenses and strongpoints had been eliminated, but the Bolos were unable to proceed further.

Only in Kanthuras did one Mark XXXIII Bolo and some unexpected allies dare to take the battle to the enemy underground. . . .

 

Disaster at Caern: 

A Study of the Unexpected in Warfare 

Galactic Press Productions, Primus, cy 426

 

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