The Silent Army

filled up, causing a constant stream of unintelligible chatter to fill my head while a random character stream filled up the HUD. What little I could see was blotted out.

What the hell is this?

The streams were coming in from the remote nodes, but they weren’t directed at me specifically. If I could get off the network, I thought it would stop the flow….

The longer it came in, though, the more it began to take some kind of shape. I sensed it was legitimate information; it was just streaming in from too many sources. It was as though hundreds of people were streaming consciousness, rambling randomly, all about different things.

Where? I thought. I didn’t care about the rest. Where is the ship now?

I began to get flashes, images from the remote nodes. Some were darkness, almost like thoughts or dreams, but some were of places and things. I caught a glimpse of a sink with running water, and another of characters appearing on a computer terminal. I saw hallways, rooms and doors from different places, but I couldn’t identify them. I couldn’t put together a complete picture, but a realization had begun to sink in.

That’s not the interior of a ship. Was I wrong?

The input became a field of static. It felt like I was floating in a void. I could still feel the fabric of the couch underneath my fingers, but it was like the sensation was coming from far away.

If I could get the influx under control, I might be able to trace a single connection and find out where it was originating from. If I could—

Link broken.

The JZI shut down and recycled. The buffers were flushed, and, after a pause, it began to reinitialize. The white noise stopped. My vision cut out completely for a few seconds, then returned.

They’re not on the ship, I thought. Not all of them. They’re already here.

That’s what MacReady was trying to tell me. Field deployment and field reanimation; they weren’t dead. Maybe some, enough to do Fawkes’s legwork, but the rest were just injected. That’s why no one could find them. They wouldn’t appear on the streets until Fawkes was ready.

My JZI systems finished initializing. Immediately, a connection opened.

Hello, Agent. Why do I keep finding you on my private network?

Who is this?

This is Samuel Fawkes.

I sat up, looking around. According to the JZI’s chronometer, I’d lost a good ten minutes. The probe was still plugged into the strange device, but the signal had been cut off.

Where are you?

I don’t know that for sure, Agent. I told you that last time we spoke.

Where’s Calliope?

The one you had shadowing Buckster? Maybe he recruited her. Wasn’t that the same woman that helped you storm my factory?

Where is she, Fawkes?

Lying in the bed you helped her make, I imagine.

I checked the status of the revivor scrub. Less than two percent of the remaining units were left to be decommissioned.

Whatever you’re planning, it’s not going to happen. They’re closing in on you.

Then I guess we’d better hurry.

There is no ‘we,’ Fawkes.

The last of the diagnostics ran, the output scrolling by in the corner of my eye. Nothing was damaged.

That will be up to you. This is your last chance to accept the offer I’ve made you. Kill Motoko Ai. And her top people. Do this, and you have my word I won’t use the nuclear devices that you know I have.

I can’t just kill them, Fawkes.

You’ve killed many people, Agent Wachalowski. Many people. You can’t convince me you don’t have the stomach for it. Is it that you place more value on the lives of those three people than you do on the lives of thousands?

I made a fist. If it was in my power and I had to choose, he knew I’d have to save as many lives as I could. He’d seen my war records. He knew, or thought he knew, how I would react in a situation like this, but I wasn’t a soldier anymore and I wasn’t ready to concede. Not yet.

I can’t easily verify the information you sent, Fawkes. Even if it’s true, this isn’t the grind, it’s the UAC. Robin Raphael is one of the richest men in the world, with a private security detail. Charles Osterhagen is a retired general who heads Stillwell Corps. He runs a privately contracted army. I couldn’t get close to either one of them if I had to.

You are a trusted FBI agent, and, more importantly, you are trusted by them.

You’re overestimating how far that trust goes. Your plan isn’t going to work.

They’ve seen you kill me in their dreams, Agent, and they believe it. They believe that you will be the one to stop me. They don’t think it’s possible for you to betray them. Their arrogance could easily be their undoing.

I’d seen enough to make up my mind; Ai and her people were dangerous. They were a threat to the UAC and the world. There might even be some truth to what Fawkes implied, that the window to stop them might be closing. Still, I couldn’t let the assault happen. The other threat was a possibility; Fawkes’s attack was real.

Call off the attack altogether, I said.

No. Without the ground assault, someone else will eventually fill the empty seats and take control again. With their leaders dead, though, I’ll hand over the nukes.

I only have your word on that.

It’s all I can offer.

It’s not enough.

Then I have my answer.

They’ve seen this. It doesn’t play out the way you think, Fawkes. It will get out of your control.

They are manipulating you. They’ve seen their own destruction; that’s why they’re so scared.

They’ve seen the destruction of the whole city.

It’s a lie. No matter what she’s told you, she’s far more ruthless than I am. She has no intention of being stopped by me or you or anyone—but they have to be stopped.

You both do.

There was a pause before he answered.

That would be acceptable to me.

The connection closed.

I looked at the time remaining for the scrub. They could be finished any day, but Fawkes didn’t seem concerned by that fact. They were going to miss him, and he wasn’t worried because he already knew that.

It didn’t matter. He was right about one thing: I was out of time. The rat’s nest Sean had stirred up went deeper than anyone thought, and Calliope was in trouble. I called Alice Hsieh.

Alice, I know you’re not Sean, but I need a favor.

Go ahead.

Buckster’s on the run. I need a team covering his apartment.

Buckster’s our only link to the nukes. Where the hell are you?

Following up on a lead.

Everything is secondary to finding that case, Wachalowski. Everything.

I know.

I’ll get Vesco over there.

Thanks, but do it quick. We’re running out of time.