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Authors: Paul Hughes

Enemy (34 page)

BOOK: Enemy
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     “I don’t know what—”

     “What Program are you from? You aren’t from Seven. I’d recognize your pattern.”

     “Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just—”

     Zero-Four reached out with his mind and touched West’s. His frown abated and he looked over to Jennings, who was holding on to a creature that was not entirely human.

     “He’s a Styx. He’s not a Judas. We made him. He’s one of my soldiers.”

     Zero-Four looked confusedly from Jennings to West, and his gaze finally rested on the silver creature looking warily out from Jennings’ protective embrace. “And what is that?”

     “That—She is my daughter.”

     Zero-Four saw then the web within which he had been entangled, and as the futures now long dead began to merge together before him, he felt overcome with despair, dizzy with the timeshift that for a moment infiltrated his pattern. Jennings was dismayed when for an instant the image of Zero-Four was clouded with static. Zero-Four returned to normal before Jennings could react. The image was as crisp and clear as ever.

     The longboat slammed into the docking fields and Simon enveloped the smaller vessel. Zero-Four shook his head, turned silently and went to the control chamber.

     The earth tore itself apart.

 

     Shiva rejoined Simon in space.

     The Jennings family sat quietly together.

     West was troubled, lost in his thoughts.

 

     ((my sensors indicated four humans on the surface. where are the other two?))

     “They were—I don’t know, Simon. I don’t know.”

     ((i’d hoped that the shadow signature was maggie’s.))

     “Me too, Simon.”

     ((is everything all right, michael?))

     Zero-Four looked up, into the eyes of the nearly transparent, silver image that floated in the spherical expanse before him. A momentary flicker of interference clouded the image, which then returned to its former clarity. Standing like a phantom in the black of the control chamber, a perfect, somehow metallic image of the man he had just let fall into the crevasse in the dying earth was projected before him. Simon Hayes.

     “No, Simon. It’s—I don’t know what’s going on.”

     It’s falling apart. Our worlds are colliding. The Program is collapsing.

     The vessel shook gently.

     ((the planet, michael. do you want to witness totality?))

     “Not this time, old friend. Not this time.”

     He retreated into his thoughts.

 

     They watched from the viewscreens as the planet was torn apart in the fury of the black hole. Implosion and cessation, the process was complete. The Enemy had won another When. They turned from the image with tears wetting their faces. Everything they had known, everything they had loved, was gone.

     Brave new world.

     The planet fell upon itself, died.

     Earth, planet of humanity. Planet of mankind.

     Planet of the dead.

     [course of action?]

     ((send a beacon to command. call for all available judas to converge upon next harvest when, coordinates to follow. the enemy’s been routed, and in this moment of their weakness, we have to strike. from all whens, from all alternities, from all of eternity, the judas must converge.))

     [precise nextwhen coordinates have been calculated from extrapolation of enemy purpose contrail transit data.]

     ((good. transmit the coordinates to the fleet, and we’ll go join malachi.))

     [affirmative.]

 

     ((preparing to disembark on nextwhen transit.))

     “Understood, Simon. Another When, another war.” Zero-Four locked the hatch on the stasis chamber, felt the shift and the wash of phase space. He hoped in the instant before his pattern was uploaded into the Whenstream that this time he would not dream.

 

     A pause, a silence. A quiet but troubled sleep of aeons.

     The warriors of the Judas faded from existence once more upon paths into damnation.

time of the damned

 

 

once upon a time

            la la la!

     within the black

            the man who was Judas

                        screamed

                                    and held on to

                        the last strands of

                                    sanity

     the vessel that was

            Judas Simon

                        struggled to force

                                    the memories of

                                                her

                        from his soul

     the Enemy sought their Purpose

     the deception was

                        complete

     and the

            end times

                        began.

 

     a white place, out of time.

     “Incoming beacon.”

     “Read it.”

     “It’s encrypted for Commander Kilbourne.”

     “Who sent it?”

     “Mujahadin Malachi.”

     “Patch it through to her immediately.”

     It began.

 

     Applause over the helmet speakers.

     “I dub thee Anubis.”

     From her position on the open docking ring of the Judas Lazarus II, Judas Commander Hannah Kilbourne tossed the bottle of champagne at the gunship below her.

     End over end over end. Impact.

     More applause.

     “And with that, comrades, the newest class of Judas is ready for operation.”

     Kilbourne looked around at the spectators. Hundreds? Thousands? The number changed daily. Hourly. Especially within this last engagement. So many had perished at the hands of the damned. So many sacrifices...

     “Ladies and gentlemen, I present the Mujahadin.”

     Roars of applause. Cheering.

     Mujahadin. Soldiers of god.

     The final hope.

 

     It slept but did not sleep.

     It was aware of the incoming projectile. It judged that it was harmless and let the champagne bottle shatter against the top surface of its port weapons nacelle.

     So now it was a Judas.

     With all of its mechanical intellect it sensed the urgency of the mission, the vast importance of success.

     It did not fear.

     It was not programmed to fear.

     As only a machine can, it smiled inwardly.

     Almost time...

 

     “Commander Kilbourne? Priority message from Mujahadin Malachi.”

     She had been admiring the new fleet but quickly boarded the vessel upon hearing this.

     She pulled off her helmet. “Patch it through.” She placed her hand on the security scanner and waited as the machine withdrew a miniscule blood sample, tested it, coded her DNA and interpreted her pattern, identified her, and decrypted the message.

     She read the message.

    
PREDATOR BECOMES PREY. PREY BECOMES PREDATOR.

     Good. That problem had been eliminated.

     No one would know. No one.

     Events were being set into motion. Preparations were almost complete.

     It was time.

 

     black

     from within the impossibility of hope and reason, a countless number of raging voices appeared, a tide of the wails of the damned. the voices rose and fell, but each contributed to the atmosphere of ((panic despair hate)) within the blackness.

     THEY THEY CAN’T DO THAT THEY CAN’T—

     THE PURPOSE IS LOST THE PURPOSE IS DEFEATED—

     THEY WILL PAY FOR THIS THE PURPOSE WILL OVERCOME THEM—

     and over all, a calm voice resonated.

    
SILENCE. THE PURPOSE WILL BE COMPLETED.

     BUT—

    
SILENCE. SUBMIT OR CEASE.

     I OBEY. WE OBEY.

    
THE VERMIN SEE NOT VICTORY, BUT ARE BLINDED BY FALSE HOPE. ONE WEB WAS LOST. IS ONE WEB THE TURNPOINT OF THE PURPOSE((?)) I THINK NOT.

     BUT OUR FORCES—

     —
WERE DESTROYED IN THAT WHEN. SOULS WERE LOST. DOES THAT DEFEAT THE ENTIRE PURPOSE((?)) HAVE THE VERMIN NOT TAKEN MANY OF US BEFORE((?)) THEY HAVE STOLEN ONLY FRAGMENTS OF THE PATTERN. OMEGA’S GLORY STRETCHES FURTHER THAN THE CONTAGION CAN EVER BEGIN TO REALIZE.

     ...

    
THEY THINK WE ARE WEAK. ARE WE((?))

     ...

    
ARE WE((?))

     NO.

    
AND IF THEY SEE US AS WEAKLINGS, IT IS THEY WHO ARE AT A DISADVANTAGE.

     YES.

    
THEY ASSUME WE FEAR THEM.

     ...

    
WE DO NOT FEAR. THE JUDAS ARE A VIRUS. A CONTAGION. AN EPIDEMIC. THEY WILL BE ELIMINATED. THEY WILL BE PURGED FROM THE END PATTERN.

     realization.

    
DO YOU SO SOON FORGET THE LAST ENGAGEMENT((?))

     THE AMBUSH. A RUSE. A TRAP. VICTORY.

    
YES.

BOOK: Enemy
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