:;Twilight in America

With the late start, and copious amounts of stops for the girls, it was getting late by the time I arrived at Cheyenne mountain. It was, of course, the natural place for that moron they called a president to centralize command. My first impression was that of guns, many. Pointed at my face in the midst of incomprehensible shouting.

I killed the ignition, put my hands on the steering wheel, and waited. Someone was on a radio. Time passed. The girls were huddled together in the backseat, trying to be as small as possible. I figured I should reassure them, somehow.

“Don't worry.” I kept my face forward, not moving, while something was rippling through the back of the sea of guns. I considered elaborating on that until I got a knock on the glass. I rolled down the window and took a look at the welcome wagon.

It was a too young man, not a boy but still too young to have earned his stars. “Welcome, uh Sir?” he managed to get out behind an awkward salute. I looked at him. He brought his hand down from the clouds and lightning bolts on his cap. I continued not to respond. He rolled down his sleeve. I smiled an unseen smile, he had a Machine Unplugged tattoo.

` “Care to wave us in, soldier?” I used just enough arch in my tone. He parted the crowd, despite the looks being passed around. I inched my car forward as he walked ahead, gesturing widely. In a moment he was in the passenger side door. I need to remember to lock that. We followed a jeep and entered the tunnel.

I was finally safe. It was time to regroup, count our losses, plan our next move. I was surrounded by friends and allies.

So why didn't I feel safe?

The man next to me couldn’t have felt safe either. He stunk of fear. He sat stiff and furtive, as if expecting a bullet but not knowing if it would come from me or the crowd. I could see his sweat collect under his cap, where a strand of premature gray was trapped sticking out under the brim. I kept my question carefully neutral.

“You're in charge here?” I hoped, desperately, my ignorance wouldn't be fatal.

He sighed. “I know you were expecting the vice president sir, but, “ he sputtered out, “Once he, uh,” the man tried to fill in the gaps with an arcane hand gesture. “He was our Oracle, sir, and he, “ there was a phlegmy sound, like a cross between clearing one's throat and a polite cough, “He uploaded three days ago. We've been without leadership since.”

Three days ago was when … There was no klaxon, no alarm or red flashing lights. Just Cheques' pleasant voice informing me that he was going to die today, and was there anything pleasant he could do for me before he passed? The red started to fill my vision then, tinging my periphery strawberry pink.

“Cheques, you are not going to die today.” I had replied. My memory went to the black and red of a childhood rage.

“Sir!?” Started me.

“Huh? Sorry. What?”

“We are not moving, sir.” Indeed we were not. The jeep in front of us had stopped a ways ahead. I began to creep back up, slowly resuming progress.

“Tell me everything you know about the Oracles.”

“Sir?” I had thrown him off.

“You heard me.”

“But, don't you already know? And?” he looked at the girls meaningfully.

I stopped the car again to look at him. I growled. “All this information is compromised, soldier. Now, I need to know what the enemy got from him and that means I need to know what you know. Now. Are you going to sit here questioning me all day?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Maybe he actually had been in the services. “There is not much to tell, just rumor and hearsay. Even the existence of the Oracle is only confirmed to the second in command.” He paused and looked at me. I nodded for him to continue. “...Whom we were attempting to replace when our Oracle uploaded.”

“They our ultimate weapon against CelestAI, hand picked for their absolute loyalty and incorruptibility by, uh, you, sir. They become genetically engineered and cybernetically enhanced amnesiacs. The survivors each form the core of a cell and communicate psionically by bouncing messages off the moon...” he coughed, “Uh, since that's more secure?” The pause was heavy with the mans embarrassment, “These, uh, rumors may be a bit farfetched. “

I started the car again. It sounded like bullshit to me, but that didn't mean he was lying per se. Layers of misinformation may be necessary in a war, but they had their own problems.

“Anything else?”

“No sir. “ his look was inscrutable, “It was assumed that the Oracle would ensure infosec and would not be compromised. Everything was need to know. “

I contemplated where it was I really was. My mind went several directions as I plotted my next move. My course, however, was nearing its termination.

“I need your sidearm.”

He produced a revolver. It was nice, antique, and a quick check showed it loaded.

I parked. “Have someone look after the girls.” I got out, walking back out to the blast doors. Everyone was behind me as I looked down the long empty tunnel out. I ignored the sounds of humanity behind me. The revolver in my hand clicked and whirred as I closed the cylinder and randomized the chamber. I took aim at the wall and squeezed.

“Fire in the hole.” The warning was perhaps later than was properly decorous. I listened to the ping of the round. Then nothing. No ricochet, no clatter of the bullet expending itself against the concrete floor. I examined the mark where it struck. It was an innocuous mark, white on concrete as it should be. Very white, in fact, and smelling faintly of vanilla. My only consolation was that it did not glow.

That bitch. I was about to order the base to sterilize the impact. When I turned around, though, the looks I was receiving did not fill me with confidence. Those were the faces of men who held fear and uncertainty about the future. At least the general had the balls to approach me.

“Bring me to the President immediately.” I walked past him into the facility. He followed, guiding my steps the way only a seasoned congressional aide or diplomatic attache could. I was secretly grateful. I didn't know the way.

“Sir, President Kittridge is no longer in charge. “ I raised an unseen eyebrow to this, but did not press.

“Then who the fuck is?”

“General Manning, Sir, as of this morning.”

“Then bring me to him.” I picked up the pace, forcing the little general to get in front of me to keep me headed in the right direction. He was sweating as the last pneumatic hiss showed us to be in the C&C.

The man in charge did not notice me, so focused was he on the large screen and the map it displayed. I took the opportunity to approach immanently and immediately behind him, staying to friendly conversation range. He was grizzled and gray, I could see from behind, with his skin the liver spotted old leather that sometimes occurs with a particularly athletic and unbending senescence. His uniform, minus the bloodspotted jacket, was spotless. That last lay open in the way an executive might during a particularly busy day and his tie was visibly loosened. Whatever infirmities age may have graced him dignity and reaction time were certainly spared.

When he turned and saw me his sidearm came up with the fluid speed of a practiced killer. There was no hesitation, no remorse in those eyes. I had been completely unaware until the moment I saw them, those windows to a cold and efficient soul, what I had walked into. This was a bitch cornered by the bear. I was the bear in the wolves den. He went for the throat before I had time to react.

I lost count of the impacts as he grouped the remainder of the clip in my center of mass. My hud was blaring armor critical warnings that, combined with the tunnel vision I was experiencing and my breath having been knocked out, blinded and deafened me. It was only my suit that kept me standing there stunned. I felt every iota between the seconds as I recovered and my vision cleared.

I saw his face. It had been marred by three holes in a perfect triangle, one point in each eye and one in the forehead. My only thought was, stupidly, that I thought there would be more blood. The revolver smoked in my hand. He fell forward. I would have caught him, or I would have been struck by him, if not for the subtle pressure of my suit prompting me to dodge. I'm sure it looked impressive to those who didn’t know I relied on mechanical assistance.

He fell face down before me and I put the last two in his back as a matter of course. I clicked open the cylinder and emptied the spent shells, carefully inspecting them as they dropped onto the body under me. Then the firearm, before it shared the same fate. Then my gloved hands. There was no white on them, no hint of vanilla- just the bright blue-green and pink spatter of old cartridge gunshot residue. It was a sharp contrast to the growing vanilla scent from the body beneath me. Her nanites must have been in the bullet.

The world expanded, my attention expanding to encompass the room.

There was shock, fear, uncertainty. A few guns were pulled, a sharp contrast to the few who were still glued to their screens. Most were in between.

“We can safely assume anything the former general knew was compromised.” I didn't notice myself speaking at first, it was like I was watching from outside my body. I could see it, though, in the stances of those around me. The narrative was taking hold unconsciously before they even processed it.

“Sir.” It was the little general, sealing my fate. “What are your orders?”

I closed my eyes and weighed my words carefully. I might have already said too much, if she realized I had information I should not have. I hoped that this would look like self interest. Ultimately, though, my cover had become too imperiled here. This was no longer a safe place for me. I chose the miserly path with the information to give them.

“This base is humanity's pentraultimate defense. Hold it as long as possible, then retreat to Zion.”

It was like a spell, releasing everyone to move frantically at once.

“Ordnance is in the air. Sir!” Called some anonymous analyst. “8% have impact confirmed! 12%!”

“We need to stop them!” The little general was panicking. “The Russians!” his implication was clear.

“belay that,” eyes were on me again, “There are no Russians anymore.”

“Sir...” the general was hesitant. “I don't understand.”

“Moscow sent us retaliation threats last week. “ someone else piped up.

“There is no Moscow anymore.” I reaffirmed, “No foreign governments at all, for years, and barely anyone at all overseas.” I held up my hand to forestall the argument, “Our enemy has evacuated them against this day. What human media have you ever seen where America did not expend everything in the defense of the species?”

The room gave an unconvinced muttering. I gave them one last parting shot as I turned to leave.

“When was the last time you saw an Amish person?”

“Where the hell are you going?” There was anger, the righteous anger that is only available to those convinced of their own importance. but I couldn't do anything about that.

“The G.H.W. Bush is under attack.” came the tunnel vision of a man ignoring things above his pay grade. I was coming to respect that analyst's voice, a part of me yearning to find out his story.

“It looks like it's time to earn those stars, general.” I had the same sharpness in my voice that had put him in his place before. “You're in charge.”

Then I was gone, rushing through once traversed halls to make my escape. I didn't need my HUD to guide me, having been here once before, but now that I was moving my concern was that the bullets in me would work their way in. I moderated the smoothness of my movements to keep that from happening, sliding soundlessly toward my objective.

My goal was my car, and the medkit within. I popped the trunk, tunneling into the medpack as I spread it open across the spare tire. There was a syringe of black polymer. That doesn't look like enough. I stuck the tip through the outer layers of armor, careful not to break the layers of protection that remained.

I depressed the plunger and counted the bullets as they bounced off the concrete. That's eight. I ran my fingers across the solidifying patch. And one more still in. I packed everything back into its place, then just after the thunk of the closing car door I closed the trunk with a thunk.

That's one too many.

I depressed my safety and slid around the driver's side, looking into the back seat. My eyes came to rest on a pair of small girls. I opened the drivers door to talk to them.

“Aren't you girls supposed to be somewhere else.” Gods, lame. “Someone was showing you the facility?”

“We forgot our stuff.”

I didn't have time to argue. There were footsteps in the parking lot. I put the car through combat startup and gunned it. Strangely, nothing and no one stopped me.

“Turn right in 20.1 miles.”

Author's Note

I dont remember exactly how things went in this chapter. eg- If I mentioned that everyone else was gone in the car or in the C&C. I will revise if I remember it better later.

As always, comments are welcome.