Digi-Geddon (The Diginoir Quadrilogy)

By Timothy Linnomme

Peshawar, Kharan and Hazarganji are only skirmishes in the war that will come to be.......

Isaiah now knows where his family is held captive but simply rescuing them isn't possible because his enemies know of at least some of his weaknesses.His dark side is now fully ascendant and armed with the knowledge he has gained from the past and the present, he will wreak havoc and destruction on an unheard of scale. Though he can't rescue his family directly, there may be a way to twist the mindset of Islam against its followers....

The One has issued an ultimatum at the point of a nuclear missile which he doesn't expect to be met because he has decided that the rift in Islam can only be healed by striking at the enemy with the infidel fire he now possesses. Even if he and his followers are destroyed in the process, he knows that those left alive will conquer what is left after the nuclear exchange. With Allah by his side, The One knows that he will not fail in his ultimate goal...

In the desolation that now describes Pakistan, the societal structure of the country will be turned on its ear as the women turn their backs on the teachings of Islam...many now revere one called the DarkWalker instead...

The Pakistani Military has now taken sides and despite the losses inflicted on them by the fervent, they will follow orders until no one is left alive to do so...

The criminal Majlis has elevated The One to the post of President, but if The One somehow fails in his quest, other nihilistic elements are only too ready to take his place...

Even in the ensuing crisis, other governments and even apolitical governmental entities are plotting to use the crisis to gain whatever power possible from the threat and its potential aftermath....

And amidst it all, a man treads through the abodes of the dead with heavy steel shod boots covered in mud and gore...there is nothing he won't do to gain back at least some of the peace that he lost...no matter how many have to die....

In the remote area of Balochistan, a city called Mamlakah has been constructed with the purpose of it becoming as revered as Mecca and Medina but such will not be its fate. When the apotheosis of religious fervency is confronted by the near penultimate expression of a biodigital aberration, there may be nothing left in the aftermath except the dead and dying....

Forget about Bibilcal Armageddon.....Digital Armageddon is here.....

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timothy Linnomme
• Release date: May 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476477718

Timothy Linnomme

Life is essentially what you make of it and I have found writing fiction is not only challenging, it can be a lot of fun (and a lot of work!) I write in an adult vein and I am neither worried about sacred cows nor do I shy away from the dark side of homo sapiens. I have worn a lot of hats over the years and I like to think each new experience has something to teach as you grow and flourish from the input. I currently live in NW Ohio.

Book preview

DIGI-GEDDON

The DigiNoir Quadrilogy

Part Three

Timothy Linnomme

…no need to worry about Biblical Armageddon…

Digital Armageddon is here…

Contents Copyright Timothy Linnomme 2012

Published by Timothy Linnomme at Smashwords

Cover Art Information: Nuclear Detonation From 1971 Nuclear test at Mururoa Atoll

Visit http://www.timothylinnomme.net for a full listing of titles and the latest information including up and coming releases!

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Epilogue

I

But whoever disputes with you in this matter

after what has come to you of knowledge, then say:

Come let us call our sons and your sons and our women

and your women and our near people and your near people,

then let us be earnest in prayer,

and pray for the curse of Allah on the liars.

The Family of Imran (Al-‘Imran) 3:61

Have you not seen those who have become hypocrites?

They say to those of their brethren who disbelieve

from among the followers of the Book: If you are driven forth,

we shall certainly go forth with you, and we will never obey

any one concerning you, and if you are fought against,

we will certainly help you, and Allah bears witness

that they are most surely liars.

The Banishment (Al-Hashr) 59:11

At night's dawn the darkness rising

Slowly eats the light away

And dreams of forces from beyond

that lives in veils of fright will prey

On minds of sane that never wished

to be entombed in madness' breath

As they begin their slow descent

at last devoured in dreams of death...

Bethzaida – Sumerian Rebirth

An angry soul

That twists and turns inside

Pondering this life

Crimson eyes

Staring through your lies

Awakes the inner rage

Iced Earth – Burnt Offerings

South of Hazarganji Valley Area, February 25, 2041 08:45

The First Sergeant in charge of the scout patrol didn’t relish his assignment, but orders were orders regardless how short of a stick you received. At least he had a decent group with him; this was an alert situation so there were no piecemeal scout patrols. He had seven seasoned soldiers under his command so maybe he wouldn’t get his ass shot off today. It was easy to find their assigned vantage point because they hadn’t been the first ones here by a long shot. About one hundred meters away was a wall of colorful tents that extended as far as he could see in either direction. There were usually guards walking back and forth along the line the tents made, but no one was able to see them. There was something wrong with the line of tents but to confirm that, it was going to require a closer look then even binoculars could give you. The First Sergeant wasn’t one to take undue risks, but they had been here for over two hours and he had yet to see any guards. He felt that he couldn’t order anyone to take that sort of a risk, so he hoped for at least one volunteer who wanted to earn some chits for use at a future time.

Anyone here interested in a close up inspection of that tent line? Something isn’t right.

Where are the guards, sir?

That’s what I mean amongst other things. The tent line looks ragged and it wasn’t like that before. You want to check it out?

The corporal shrugged as he doffed his pack and prepared to do so.

Keep your head down and don’t get it shot off; we don’t need heroes today, only some intel, okay?

Yes, sir. The corporal quickly moved out of sight towards the line of tents.

The corporal took the most paranoid approach in accomplishing what he had been told to do, but there was no reason to do so. There were no guards along the tent line and the tents were ragged looking. The corporal peered through a rip in one of the tents…there was no one in the valley except a Cleric arguing with a man and a girl. The man was dressed in black from head to foot. There was something wrong with the ground; the corporal was born and raised in this country so he knew the terrain. What was covering the ground? The corporal had an answer once he stared at a piece of ground long enough. He fought to control his gorge as he quickly backed away from the tent line.

What did you find out, corporal? I judge by the way you didn’t conceal yourself on the way back here something is wrong; what’s going on?

There’s no one there, sir. All I saw was a Cleric arguing with two other people, but you might not want to see what’s all over the ground. I think the fervent are dead, sir; all of them.

*

A moment later, seven people were looking out on the horrific scene through cut accesses in what was left of the tents. No one was at ease after looking over the charnel strewn landscape.

Where are the three people you saw, Corporal?

They were over by that cave opening, but I don’t know where they are right now. I swear they were here—

The seven patrol members watched as two people appeared out of thin air; there was a slight wash of darkness that followed them, but it dissipated immediately.

What the hell is going on here? The First Sergeant was about to say something else when an ominous whistling sound filled the air. Incoming! Hit the dirt!

*

The missile used some fuel to steer it out of the dead drop and once it was on a level course, it kicked up its speed. It shot across Russia at Mach 1.75 three kilometers high, leaving a rash of shaken buildings and shattered windows. The intrusion had been so fast and sudden that even air defenses were useless. It travelled through Russia and Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan and Afghanistan before once more verifying the GPS coordinates. It rose up to almost five kilometers high before starting its final plunge…

…Isaiah threw up as dense of a shield as he could, but he didn’t think it would be enough. As he heard the missile descend, he wiped a streak of obliterative force in such an intense vertical path that it obliterated not only the standing air where it appeared, but the air that rushed in to fill it…

…the missile streaked down to its targeted location unmindful of anything outside of its programmed scope, so it never saw the obliterative force that it intersected. The missile left a trail of wreckage a third of a kilometer long as it shredded apart under the onslaught, but all that happened to the warhead was that it was knocked slightly off its ideal impact point. Up until now, the explosions were small and continuous in volume, but that was about to end. Instead of hitting on the flat valley plain, the warhead landed on the top of the rise where Isaiah and Ghanima had rested before and burrowed down…fifty meters….one hundred meters…one hundred and twenty five meters….detonation….

The explosion of the warhead was spectacular to say the least. To Isaiah and Ghanima, it felt like someone had snapped the ground like a large blanket and while the shield Isaiah had erected blocked out most of the concussion, the two of them were thrown around like rag dolls as the ground heaved and rose and split…

*

Are you okay, Ghanima?

Ghanima coughed as she waved away some smoke. I think so, but Camel Cat isn’t responding! The cat was limp in her hands.

Let me take a look at it; it doesn’t look injured.

Isaiah saw no physical damage to the cat and it was still breathing. As he held it, the cat opened its eyes and began purring of all things. It licked one of Isaiah’s now filthy hands as it gave off a throaty meow. He handed the cat back to Ghanima.

It will be all right; it was probably just stunned like we were. As Isaiah rose from the ground, he pulled off a severed hand and eyeball that were stuck to his head. He did his best to brush off his clothing and his backpack, but he now smelled no different than the general area. After once more making sure Ghanima was okay, Isaiah took a look around. Whatever had been fired at him had been massive; if it had hit him directly, Isaiah wasn’t sure if he would have survived. If this area was horrific before with the massive amounts of human remains, it was even more so now. The rise in the small mesa in the valley was now a good ten meters higher than it was before with a hole punched through the center of it while the valley floor now slanted upwards on all sides up to the rise. At four points around the new rise there was a massive crack in the earth and they were deep. Isaiah could also see washes of heat coming up through the four cracks plus the hole in the top of the rise; something had been ignited below from the force of the blast. Smoke curled up from all five openings into the earth; it smelled faintly sulfuric. Isn’t that what they say hell smells like? It is a fitting odor for such a place. Isaiah had to ask Ghanima to repeat herself.

What happened, Isaiah? That was a large bomb. Didn’t you destroy everything they had on the ground?

The ionization path was even easier for Isaiah to trace, and he shortly had his answer. They dropped that on us from the air; way high up in the air. That was food for further thought, but Isaiah couldn’t be omnidirectional in focus despite what he could do. Was that strike because of what he had done to the Cleric and his insect followers? Regardless of whether that was the case, sooner or later the explosion alone would result in people coming to investigate the situation. A scan of the general area revealed seven people at the southern end of the periphery. Isaiah had to suppress his normal reaction to such a situation; the people in question were military and since Peshawar, they hadn’t provoked him. What could he do to interfere with them pursuing him after he left this place? Isaiah used ‘interfere’ because pursuit would also eventually occur from simple attrition. He had been called Shaitan but also Hashashin; even if some of these people were educated, Isaiah figured that was the exception, not the rule. The carnage in this valley was horror enough, but if something macabre was done in addition to it, the resulting fear and loathing it would generate might keep the insects at bay for a while if not longer. By the time they even decided to pursue him and Ghanima, he at least would be long gone. The cracks in the ground and the hole in the top of the rise gave him an idea…

*

Is everyone in one piece? The First Sergeant rubbed his face when he felt a twinge of pain on the right side; he pulled a small piece of metal out of his face.

Once he had ascertained that his patrol would live, the sergeant had to make some hard decisions. The blast had tumbled his patrol down a slope, but they were only one hundred meters or so from the tent line. It would be an easy matter to once more crawl up to the tent line, but what more was there to see? Would anything have changed? The First Sergeant decided to take his own advice that he had given out earlier.

There aren’t going to be any heroes today; we did our job and we are falling back to make a report of the good news…along with whatever else happened here. The other soldiers with him were only too glad to comply. He didn’t know it yet, but the sergeant had made the right decision; the patrol wouldn’t get to see what macabre on top of horrific really was…that was reserved for the platoon sized patrol that reinvested the area…

*

Isaiah had learned a lot from the two pests that lived in the darkness; now every subsystem he possessed was guarded from any outside intrusion, but he still needed to regain his date/time function. The first urge he had to squelch upon recovering from the strike was the desire to blindly lash out because there was nothing left in the immediate area to destroy. There was the military contingent south of here, but as long as they left him the hell alone, he would do the same. The human remains that were here were his to do with what he wished and once Isaiah had worked out the details of the idea, he lost no time in getting to work. It took several false starts (and at least two showers of body parts) before he learned to use the force he could project as a broom. He swept the entire valley area clean leaving behind as little carnage as possible. He quickly had some very large piles of remains, but he also had four large cracks in the earth to fill. The cracks in the earth were deep, but that was balanced out by the volume of remains that were left behind. Isaiah worked quickly; as the cracks filled to capacity, Isaiah tamped down on what he was using to fill them, until the cracks could hold no more. Once that was the case, Isaiah started dumping the remains down the hole that had been created in the center of the rise.

The opening in the center of the rise was only a meter or so wide, but it appeared to be deeper by far than even the cracks on the valley floor. The force he could project made for as decent a shovel as a broom, so it wasn’t that long after he started when he was almost finished. He scraped up some dirt and clay to cover over what was now shoved into the four cracks but as for the hole in the top of the rise, he only pounded the remains down far enough there so that he could cover it with missile fragments that had survived the collision. There was a large piece of what used to be the missile body that Isaiah set aside until he was done. The metal still retained its cylinder shape, so Isaiah first cut the metal apart and flattened out a decent sized piece which he folded over three times to give it some mass. Though he could get the piece of metal to float around on its own, it buckled under their weight. Unperturbed, Isaiah cast the piece of metal aside; it appeared that he would need a heavier and stronger piece of metal to make another idea of his work. He and Ghanima could walk away from here, but there were at least seventy men approaching this place now and he wasn’t in the mood for any more questions until he found some answers.

Where are we going, Isaiah? Quetta is a large place.

That it is, but we aren’t going there directly. I think Mach would be a good place to start; there is someone there I need to speak to again; do you remember the Cleric who said that there would be peace?

As, the Patrol approached the tattered tent line, Isaiah and Ghanima stepped into the darkness; things were done here for the moment.

*

The patrol quickly spread out and inspected the area though they had largely had scoffed at the information they had been given. Once they were at the location, they had even more reasons to ridicule the scout patrol. Nothing they had been told was true; there were no human remains on the ground and no real evidence of the aftermath of an explosion. About the only credible evidence there was had been the loud explosion heard here, but where was the carnage? The ground was scraped clean of debris, but it was too clean as far as some of the patrol was concerned. Despite the attempts at burial of the carnage, wisps of smoke curled up through the filled in areas on the ground. It didn’t take long before members of the patrol found what had been four large cracks in the earth along with the hole in the top of the rise. The smoke coming from the hole at the top was a mix of several odors, none of them pleasing. When a severed head was discovered in one of the filled in cracks, a lot of the soldiers in the patrol were unnerved. What in hell had happened here? It turned out that at least some of what the scout patrol had mentioned was true, but someone or…something had scraped the human remains into the holes and fissures created by the blast and had attempted to cover their tracks. The Patrol Leader decided it would be a good idea to vacate the area before he lost complete control. Though his initial report was criticized, the matter was squelched at midlevel command after a Specialist Unit verified everything from the Patrol Report. As the human remains rotted and smoldered in their grisly resting places, the smell became unbearable after a time and the air became poisonous shortly after that. There was no need to worry about habitation; the uneducated masses swore that the spirits of the slain screamed out their misery with each gust of wind that came through the area. Hazarganji and the valley directly south of it became known as The Accursed Place or The Valley of The Damned; people refused to dwell in the area or even travel through it ever again…

*

Washington D.C. February 24, 2041 23:33

Bradley was tired and his weariness was slowly winning the battle, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of what was happening. The missile that had struck the area carried a massive punch as evidenced by the damage it had caused, but the strike had already been disavowed. It had been bad enough watching Isaiah slaughter those people, but Isaiah’s actions after he recovered from the blast were lacking in any sort of decency or respect. To say that Bradley was disgusted would have been an understatement.

I am actually looking forward to sleeping tonight; I have had all I can stand of this sociopathic asshole for one day. What in hell does he think he is doing?

"Judging by how fast he adapted what he can do to the situation, it appears that he has pretty good control over his aberrancy; even the attempt to ride on the flat piece of metal--:

"I don’t mean how is he doing what he is doing; I meant why is he committing another atrocity upon what he has already done?"

Leopold looked like he was going to speak again but instead remained silent. He tried to concentrate on the LOSA feed even if the valley area was now vacant, but Bradley’s voice shattered his attempt at gaining any concentration.

You were about to reply to me, Mr. Marks; what is it that you have to say?

The dead littered around the area might had unnerved some people, but making it look as if he was trying to hide what he did would unnerve a lot more, especially if they lacked a broader education. The longer they spend trying to figure out why someone would do that, the further away Isaiah Roberts can be when or if they decide to take action. This is how he has been sliding under the wire both earlier and now. Leopold paused to think for a moment. In another set of circumstances, this could make for one hell of a story if you could get people to believe it.

That would probably be the hardest part of things even with sufficient background.

You are probably right, sir; the LOSA feed has picked up Isaiah Roberts and the girl again. They are in a place called Khuzdar. Leopold reoriented half of the twelve feeds to center in on their target and began watching the feeds intently, but Bradley had seen enough for one day.

Leopold, I think all parties concerned that are present need to get some sleep; it has been a very long day.

Within the hour, the Briefing Room was vacant.

Southern Quetta, Pakistan February 25, 2041 10:57

It was another pointless and boring day for Loni and her children, but at least they were still alive. She didn’t want to go to the bathing area, but she could stand only so much stink and she smelled rather high. She cringed when she saw Ailith’s face wound; though it had scabbed over, it would leave a lasting scar, essentially finishing her modeling career. Why couldn’t she have done something to stop what had been done to her youngest daughter? Because she was powerless in this place despite doing the best she could to think otherwise. Aelgar was only treated slightly better than she and her daughters, but in a male dominated society, the concept of a female actually having any sort of rights not granted by a male or independent of a male’s largesse was an alien concept. In a society such as what the USA possessed, much of what the Pakistanis accepted as a matter of course wouldn’t be tolerated, but humans represented a plethora of cultures and societal mores tempered by writings and mindsets and myriad other delimiters.

Loni yawned; she wasn’t sure if she was simply tired or tired because there was never enough to eat around here. Even after bathing as best as she could (or dared), she still felt like she was coated in a grimy film that never completely washed away. It looked like her children were still holding up; Alditha and Ailith no longer had the deer in the headlights look about them but that could change in a moment. Aelgar was made of some sterner stuff; he didn’t look beaten down. Would she ever see Isaiah again? It wasn’t like she had missed saying something special to him; their marriage had long ago reached the comfortable stage even if Isaiah surprised her at times with gifts. She did miss him, but it was in a way few people would understand. Until she had explained things to Aelgar, only she and Isaiah knew what he could do if provoked, and Aelgar was at best skeptical of what she had said. Loni had become numbed to an extent at her treatment in this place; she expended most of her energy trying to protect her daughters from the men that were here. Farah and Rehma arrived in the room where Loni and her family stayed most of the time. When Rehma said she was going shopping with her mother, Loni sprayed the ankle length hem of Rehma’s dress with more of her expensive perfume before she and Farah once more left.

Welcome to another day in paradise, mom. Aelgar’s sneer gave the words a healthy coating of sarcasm.

As long as we are alive to greet the next day, it is the best sort of victory we can have for the moment. Though I would love a Angus hamburger and to soak in a tub for half a day and sleep in my own bed…

*

A sudden increase of noise on the other side of the locked door to their room made Loni and Aelgar take interest, but Alditha and Ailith once more looked scared.

What are they saying, Aelgar?

Beats the shit out of me, mom; I only had basic instruction in their pig language. It sounds like a group of drunken chickens arguing.

Loni cringed when she heard several sounds of something striking flesh and even louder voices raised in anger. The door to their room (prison) was yanked open as Farah and Rehma were almost thrown inside. A heavy book sailed into the room before the door just as quickly banged shut. Rehma had some tears still on her face but Farah was cradling the left side of her face. Farah had been struck a vicious blow that had broken the skin; even after her black eye healed, she would still have a scar left for remembrance. Rehma picked the book up from the floor and straightened out its cover before opening the book. Rehma was reading from the book as her finger traced the words. Farah quickly joined her; their quiet voices speaking in unison made for a soothing undercurrent of sound in the room. Loni and Aelgar didn’t even bother turning on the television; watching Farah and Rehma was almost as hypnotizing in its own right. It felt like a long time had passed before the two of them looked up from their book at Loni and her family.

What is the book you are reading? Loni did her best to sound friendly and nonthreatening.

Rehma’s expression was wary while her speech was clipped with an edge to it. This is the only true book of knowledge; we must stay here and read the Qur’an until we realize how worthless we are and how we only are allowed to exist by the kindness and mercy our uncle shows us.

It takes time for humans to learn to mask their emotions if they even manage the feat, but Loni was a Social Worker, a master of filtering initial information despite how jarring some of it could be, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t angry or perturbed, it only meant that she could wear a mask seasoned by age and experience. Her children were silent at that utterance, but Aelgar looked like a cat about ready to spring upon its prey. Loni managed to stay her son with a gentle hand upon him as she gathered her thoughts to respond.

You exist now without his saying that you do; what kindness and mercy has he shown you? Is he the one that struck your mother across the face?

Farah muttered something in Urdu but Rehma replied. My mother earned the beating she received as did I; only with such treatment of our lowly and imperfect selves will we not be tempted to follow the path of the infidels such as you or the murderous Shaitan that now stalks the land.

Murderous Shaitan? You make it sound as if you are responsible for the actions of others even if you have no control over what they do; why should you be punished for what someone else has done if you had nothing to do with their actions?

The woman is always guilty of sin and it is in her nature to be unfaithful and easily led astray. That is why women must pray harder for forgiveness in the eyes of Allah. I doubt that infidels like you would even understand the concept, anyway. Questions are the work of the Shaitan to mislead people from their faith.

Loni began to feel the same way her son already did; she was doing her best to cope with this situation, but any religion that treated women in this manner was simply wrong. What was even worse than the treatment was how easily it was accepted by at least Farah and Rehma. Loni rarely felt enough anger to cause her to physically attack someone, but this situation was pushing her very close to that point. Despite her feelings though, she decided to soldier on. I might understand far more than you realize, Rehma. I come from a different society than you, so we have different attitudes on many matters. Questions are how you learn new things; they are not meant to cause conflict and human beings are never perfect whether they are a man or a woman.

Rehma smirked. Your husband must not beat you enough if you are so full of questions. A woman should never question a man under any circumstance; that was why your infidel children have been beaten as much as they have.

Before Loni could respond, Aelgar jumped into the pause. Who is this ‘Murderous Shaitan’ that stalks the land? Is that some more made up shit like what they have in that book? Your thinking is pure mental; I bet livestock is even treated better than you are.

Loni cringed at the thought of what might happen as a result of Aelgar’s vicious words, but thankfully, Rehma took it in stride; even Farah was actually focusing on the exchange of words.

The words of the Qur’an are the only knowledge that one of the faithful needs; any insult to the prophet’s words is an insult to the prophet himself, and Allah will judge those such as you harshly in the afterlife. Allah has decided to truly test the faithful on this day for a Shaitan has been cast into our midst. He slaughters the faithful who even now rest in heaven as their just reward, but those of the true faith will slaughter the infidel and those who follow him for Allah is merciless to the unbeliever but merciful and kind to those who believe! Rehma’s eyes sparkled with her zeal and belief.

Aelgar was about to reply in disgust when…something happened. At first, Aelgar wasn’t sure what it was because the change had only been momentary, but there it was again and this time, the difference was sustained for a few moments. It took Aelgar a few moments to figure out what happened, but several things suddenly clicked together in his mind.

Mom, did you feel anything just now?

I felt something, but it wasn’t as much as feeling something as noticing the lack of something; what was that?

I think something is wrong with the DNG devices surrounding us; something might have tried to punch through the noise, but that doesn’t make any sense, does it?

Loni did her best to hide the shock she suddenly felt; she had explained things to Aelgar, but she still doubted that he believed her, so she was no longer concerned with hiding things from him. Loni knew who had tried to punch through the noise; there could be only one explanation. Why had it taken Isaiah this long to find them? Was he okay? Loni supposed she could get some explanations later, for there were things to do now. For the first time since waking up here, she finally felt like she had some control over things. Rehma, I don’t think my husband will like your uncle! Loni hoped that Isaiah could get here in time to stop any more abuse of their children, but what had happened to Isaiah in all of this time?

Vicinity of Khuzdar, Pakistan ------- --,---- --:--

Isaiah was lying in a tub of hot water soaking away the carnage of the previous evening. He had rented a sizeable room with actual beds and a bathing area that was part of it. He knew he was in Khuzdar from the signs he saw, but even looking at a clock or calendar had no effect on his date/time function. He could see the date and time, but it had no meaning to him; that darkness must have really messed up that function, but there had to be some way to repair it. Ghanima was also bathing and even though the women appeared to be duty bound, Isaiah was watching the area where Ghanima was; if he detected any danger, the perpetrators would be very sorry. In a sturdy desk in the room were his and Ghanima’s personal items in addition to the money and food they had left. Despite the lesser value of Pakistani currency in relation to the USD, Isaiah had a lot of the local currency thanks to that bank vault up in Dalbandin. With the money, Isaiah could go where he needed to go, but now he needed to find out where that would next be. They are in the southern area of Quetta. Quetta was a big place though and it was also sealed off from what he heard. The Pakistani military surrounded it on all sides and though it looked like some traffic was moving in and out in the northern area, nothing of that sort was happening in the south. The southern side of Quetta looked like a war zone; Isaiah didn’t have to actually see the area to know this. Buildings and bodies both smoldered at or around the battle line and Isaiah could also see the large amount of ordnance. There were a lot of people in Quetta, but most of those were fervent and there was no shortage of the red hats either. There was an unnatural quiet over most of the city as if it was a person awaiting something with bated breath. At the moment, the people of Quetta appeared to be uneasy, but that would change in a very short time.

Even when they arrived in Khuzdar, Isaiah still had the feeling he was being watched but he couldn’t figure out from where. Once he figured out it wasn’t from anything on the ground, he began looking in less obvious places. As he once more felt physically clean, Isaiah blinked away his blue colored eyes; when his eyelids opened once again, his eyes were a washed out grey color barely discernible from white, but there were a lot of things to view…

…once he had gridded off the entire area of Quetta, Isaiah began scanning for the phenomes that represented his family; it was a large area, but his family would stand out like a beacon amongst these people. This was a lower priority for the moment because it would take time…

…Isaiah really didn’t like being observed; perhaps it was because of what had happened when he had been trapped in that cell years ago, but Isaiah equated being watched with trouble following close behind. That was a very large missile that had been fired at him, but whoever was responsible had made at least one grave error. If the ionization trail was easy to follow by a regular human with the right equipment, Isaiah had the needed resources internally. The ionization trail cut off abruptly, but Isaiah matched what he had seen to the powered free fall trail and from there the free fall trail itself. The device that had dropped the missile wasn’t in either the present or the extrapolated position, but it was crowded up here! Why hadn’t Isaiah known about the objects in this place before? Perhaps up until now, he had no need to look, but now he did. The objects occupied LEO from one hundred and sixty kilometers all the way up to six hundred kilometers and most every spot in between. There were no insects hiding in the orbital objects; these were objects that the insects launched from Earth to fulfill a variety of functions. Isaiah found a large craft full of insects, but it was a transport craft on its way to the moon. The object that had fired the missile at him was around here someplace, but its travel path was too broken up to track it directly, so another approach would be needed. As Isaiah concentrated on a randomly chosen satellite, he realized that these insect built machines knew each other on at least a digital signal level. That could be of some possible use…

…these things were called satellites and they did a lot of work for the insects. They transferred telephone messages and television signals and through something called GPS, they could tell you where you were. In addition, many of them could look down on various parts of the earth and watch things. The objects also had other things which had nothing to do with those tasks, but the GPS aspect was suddenly of interest to Isaiah. Could that process help restore his date/time function? The older objects floating around in this place had been retrofitted with digital signaling, but only to the extent where information needed to be transferred; the signaling internally queried the analog workings to provide the needed transport information. The newer objects up here had a much more robust digital overlay with everything integrated, so they became the focus of Isaiah’s attention. The objects were passcoded with a vengeance, but digital encryption was a joke to Isaiah. The satellite object Isaiah had accessed had five working access levels. Main was self-explanatory; this object processed cell phone and television data and was a tertiary GPS unit. The other four categories were Maintenance, Signal Data, Auxiliary and Subsystem. Signal Data contained Satellite Identification information while Auxiliary controlled functions not related to Main. Subsystem was what Isaiah was seeking at the moment; there was no fancy GUI here like in the other areas; instead there was a sparse CLI terminal. The satellite had a data entry keypad for use with the CLI, but Isaiah bypassed the console to query the CLI directly…

Dir /?

There was a flood of program modules in the list which would have been a useless blur to someone with normal vision, but Isaiah’s aberrancy read off the entire list and stored it as a reference point…one of the functions was interesting…

DateTime

Parameters too broad. Function requires ground based referent.

DateTime Pakistan

February 25, 2041 17:03

Isaiah was surprised for a moment; his aberrant vision actually understood the input, but how could he transfer the information to his own subroutine? It didn’t take long to find the answer; apparently when the satellites underwent maintenance, they at times lost certain basic functions that would need to be restored. They accomplished this by querying nearby satellites for the proper information and then used the Function Capture command to send the data to themselves. Once Isaiah made sure he was essentially mimicking a satellite in such a situation, he sent the command with the proper flags…

Funccap DateTime Pakistan /external /overlay=yes /raw

…Isaiah lost the place where he was with his aberrant sight, but when he once more opened his eyes, his date and time subroutine was once more fully populated. It apparently had been at least three days since the incident at Kharan, but Isaiah let his internal functions update the causal happenings; once he was back among the satellites, he began the search for the satellite that had fired on him and the ones who he figured were watching him…Isaiah’s eyes flared red for a moment before once settling back to a watery silver gray…

*

Ghanima returned to the room during this time, but she decided that Isaiah was busy doing something so she didn’t disturb him. He was soaking in the tub and his eyes were a silvery color of gray almost indiscernible from white. Ghanima was happy enough at the moment; she was clean and dry and she didn’t have to watch a lot of people get slaughtered, so she was good. She opened up a book and began to read to herself…

Bright Eyes: The Vision of the Future

Ghanima became absorbed in the book while Isaiah lay completely still in his bath; she didn’t know that wars could be fought in other realms than the physical…

…it was easy to figure out what objects were watching him; all that Isaiah did was vector up from his current position and a few earlier ones to see what satellites were tracking the feed. There were twelve satellites watching not only him, but the whole country of Pakistan. There were some differences in these satellites, though; they hadn’t been launched from Earth. Isaiah knew about LOSA, but why would commercial satellites be watching him? The Moon Base had its own static satellite array , but those were in place around the moon. The LOSA array was for generating further profit, so who was paying the Moon Base for the video feeds? When Isaiah tried to infiltrate one of the LOSA satellites, he was surprised at the reaction of the object. As fast as he tripped through the digital encryption was almost as fast as additional passwords were thrown over smaller and smaller data areas. Isaiah knew that he could beat even this system, but doing so would take a considerable effort. The LOSA feeds were sent to the Moon Base, but if Isaiah wanted to track the data any further, he would have to devote most of his resources to the task which was something he couldn’t afford to do.

With that puzzle solved and his date/time function working properly once again, Isaiah concentrated on his last task regarding these objects. One of these satellites had fired that missile at him; if he let the matter go, more such projectiles would come his way and Isaiah didn’t like that idea very much. Some of these ‘satellites’ had a large amount of ordnance either mounted on them or attached to them in some other way. The missiles attached to some of the legacy satellites were massive in size, possibly big enough to wipe out a city in one strike. If Isaiah had grown up with a more paranoid attitude, he might have tried to cover his tracks, but at the base level of things, he considered his aberrant vision as a unique sort of game versus a weapon to be used against people. Isaiah had collected some information regarding the attack, but he didn’t know what satellite had attacked him, at least right away. The LOSA satellites weren’t responsible for the attack, but they had the most robust signal caches out of all of the satellites. Even as Isaiah processed a signal cache from a LOSA satellite, his tampering was throwing flags from all over the place. As Isaiah eventually learned, the ordnance contained on the satellites was not public knowledge, but all he was doing was looking for the satellite had attacked him. He had to cover a third of the occupied LEO area before he found the instigator of the hostile action…

Washington D.C. February 25, 2041 07:25

It was one hell of a dream. Bradley was with his wife again, assuaging the loneliness he felt at times, but part of him wasn’t willing to accept the dream at face value. First off, he knew that his wife was dead and his children weren’t at that age anymore. It still was a pleasant dream, though, even if *BEEP* interruptions were starting to break *BEEP* up the idyllic scene. Bradley sighed in contentment one more time….

*BEEP*

Bradley fought his way to the surface of a placid and clear blue sea, but the sea rapidly dissipated, leaving him sitting upright in his bed. Bradley suffered the initial confusion of one just waking, but the sound his digital pad was making would have been loud enough to raise the dead. Bradley snatched up the digital pad as he resisted the urge to throw the piece of shit across the room. There was a Yellow Alert and a Red Alert active on the pad. Bradley set down the device only long enough to throw on some relatively clean clothing before once more giving the digital pad his full attention. The Yellow Alert was due to a satellite launched missile that had been aimed at Pakistan; the payload was a MOP variant. A Yellow Alert would only flash on the digital pad, but a Red Alert would send out an audible alarm. The moment Bradley clicked on the Red Alert, the alarm went silent as the alert disappeared, but as if it was a chain reaction, Bradley heard phones ringing outside of his door. The moment he opened the door, no less than four Secret Service agents accompanied him to a currently unoccupied briefing room. As Bradley sat down at his desk, a phone attached to a secure line was placed there One of the digital lines flashed in a holding pattern.

Sir, that is CMD on Very High Priority. The four guards left as they shut the door; no one would be getting into the briefing room until the all clear sign was given.

There was a cup of coffee and some pastries on a tray that had appeared from someplace; as Bradley took a sip of coffee, he enabled the line on hold.

This is President Journeaux.

Good morning, sir; this is Lieutenant General Harrison. Did you receive the alerts that were sent?

The Red Alert woke me up from a sound sleep; this had better be good.

Permission requested to speak freely, sir.

Granted, but I want to know—

Someone fired a Targhiz class MOP projectile from satellite orbit targeting an area of southwest Pakistan. The missile trajectory cut across Russia and a few minor countries. The projectile only partially hit the target; most of it was shredded on its final trajectory path. That comprised the Yellow Alert. The PR department of the White House can milk that situation for whatever they can find, but we have a larger problem.

Who fired the missile?

Tracking and Telemetry was initially given a bogus Identifier, but they are pretty sure it was Pakistar-1. We are currently looking for its whereabouts, but we appear to not be the only one doing so; that is the larger problem.

How could that be a problem? The sooner you find the satellite, the better.

Bradley heard the general exhaling on the other end of the line. "We don’t know who the other entity is that is seeking the satellite, but they are walking through digital encryption like it isn’t there and they are auditing the contents and functions of the satellites they have already compromised. Our satellites aren’t the only ones being scanned; at least five other countries have had their units compromised. There are materials and…resources up in LEO that can’t be made public knowledge. That also brings up a topic related to what has been happening over in Pakistan. A 3.6 Richter scale earthquake happened in Dalbandin recently, but not only has the USGS ascertained the impossibility of such an event in that place at that time, the southern portion of the urban center has been smashed flat. Earthquakes usually leave some wreckage behind, not a near perfectly flattened area. The satellite missile strike is raising even more questions; it appears they were targeting something, but what? We contacted LOSA to get some further information, but we were told that you are already receiving the video from the LOSA feeds. What in hell is going on in Pakistan, sir?"

It was Bradley’s turn to sigh. He was surprised that he had been able to keep things under wraps for this long, but he was deluding himself if he thought he could do so forever. There already were a good number of civilians asking the same questions as the General with far less knowledge. Civilians can be fooled; the Military can be fooled only to an extent. There are a number of things going on at the moment General; some things are within our control while other things out of our control. The first thing that you might want to know is that Pakistan has lost a Shaheen XII MRBM and what’s even better is who might have control of it. As far as who caused that damage in Dalbandin, they were also the target of that missile. I have been keeping a lid on this for very good reason; we are doing our best to track down a private enterprise organization that apparently deals in unauthorized human experimentation; one of their experiments is laying waste to Pakistan at this moment. DETA is also involved, so I am working under a heavy PD aegis, or I was until I demanded to see some files they had classified. As soon as the General stopped swearing, Bradley continued. The Pakistani military are on our side for the most part, but The One has no shortage of fervent that will follow him; the aberrant experiment will at some point be called Experiment Alpha, but they are the joker in the deck of cards that is in play… Bradley made a note to himself to remember some of the swearing coming over his phone line; it made his monkey jokes pale in comparison…

*

Quetta, Pakistan (Southern Sector) February 25, 2041 19:11

Colonel Mazari was glad that he had Major Damanis’ troops here, but their willingness to fire on omniciders was tempered by the fact that they had caused even more havoc in the process. Colonel Mazari had ordered the roadways out of Quetta blocked because of the attacks on his troops there, but even that didn’t end the violence against his contingent. When the fervent no longer could use the road accesses to spread havoc, they resorted to omnicider attacks against who they perceived as the infidels. They were sending women and children into the no man’s land laden with explosives or with Hattin rockets. Several of the attacks had been successful due to the inability of some of the soldiers to shoot, but that was before Colonel Mazari had gained the Major’s contingent. The rifles didn’t fire as often because the omniciders were staying down until they were close enough to make a run, but none of them ever reached their target. The fervent side of the no man’s land was nothing but smoking ruin. The soldiers worked in teams of three or four as needed. One person would be the shooter, a second person would be the spotter and the third (or fourth) person was in charge of the heavy munitions. The spotter wasn’t only looking for omniciders; she would also identify staging areas being used for such assaults. That was when the heavy equipment handler would fire a Hattin missile at the coordinates or call for targeted ranged fire. The latest tactic the fervent were using was to fire rockets and missiles from beyond the targeted area, but the crewless ordnance rendered those attacks futile. It was a bloody standoff with no end in sight…

*

Quetta, Pakistan

While there had been no formal war declared, Quetta looked every bit like a city under siege. If it hadn’t been for supplies coming into the northern area, things would have been dire, but things were grim anyways. The fervent and especially the Tahakkum Din exerted iron control over the inhabitants still left there and they let no slight either perceived or imagined escape punishment. A central part of the city became a judgment square for those accused of crimes. A burning pit had been constructed next to the gallows area for disposing of the dead (who of course were all infidels) and it was 24/7 in operation. In Quetta, if you were a female, it was the best solution to remain indoors, but if you had to venture outside for any reason, a chador (or preferably a burkha) was absolutely necessary, and at times even that wasn’t enough to protect you from the wrath of those who controlled the city. Any transgression could rapidly ramp up into rape or slaughter or even worse; sometimes the bodies thrown into the burning pit weren’t completely dead. Their screams almost blended with the horrific color and stench of the smoke arising from the pit. Hell reigned in Quetta, but worse would be to come until the people finally had freedom…It started with random acts of vandalism with no one to blame. Decorations were torn to shreds while eating tables became cracked or broke under a minimal weight. When those happenings suddenly abated, people breathed a sigh of relief…but now the graffiti was appearing out of nowhere. It wasn’t painted on; it was burnt into wood and etched on stone and no place was safe from it. It wasn’t sentences, either; it was a single word used in either single or plural form…pigs. A mosque was defaced with that insult in Urdu while it was found cut into the face of a dead Tahakkum Din…fear gave rise to even more terror as people hid away in their dwellings as much as they could…

Islamabad, Pakistan

Islamabad wasn’t as bad off as Quetta because their supply routes weren’t being strangled and the fervent had much less control over the city. Islamabad was where a lot of embassies were located and the Pakistani government had been told what would happen if the foreigners weren’t left alone. Islamabad didn’t have a burning pit, but the Majlis building was under heavy guard around the clock along with the legislator residences. Neither the House nor the Senate bothered addressing any matters of state; when The One took his rightful place as President, the Majlis intended to usher in a reign of peace and prosperity under The One’s benevolent and merciful rule. No one really paid either SCF in Islamabad any mind…until later…

Quetta, Pakistan February 25, 2041 21:15

Maryam Queshad was glad she was working for Al-Jazeera, things could have been worse. She was twenty-four years old and only graduated from University two years ago with a degree in journalism, but she had resisted a lot of pressure to get this job. Her parents had wanted her to marry and her two brothers were followers of The One, but she had persevered. She had refused the offer of marriage her parents had arranged for her because she felt that she had a higher calling. Even though Al-Jazeera had been disavowed by the general world media, they were the only ones allowed free reign in Pakistan these days, so she had at least an opportunity to excel. She wished she was anywhere else but Quetta especially at this time, but she had accepted the situation; it was time to find and report the news. Very few if any women were out on the streets at this time, but Maryam couldn’t report the news stuck inside of her apartment. She was wearing western styled clothing, but she was also wearing a chador and she made sure that she walked behind her camera man. She had been glowered at by no shortage of Tahakkum Din, but so far, she had not been accosted. What would she report tonight?

A sudden uptick of noise in the general area made her take notice. As quickly as she could, she signaled her camera man to drift over to the disturbance. It wasn’t hard to find. A large and angry group of people were clustered in a loose arc around a mosque. While not an exceptionally built place of worship, it still was such an edifice. What was wrong here? Why were the voices so angry and fearful? It took a moment for Maryam to discover the source of agitation. The front of the mosque was constructed of a light tan color of brick and stone, but now there was a word in Urdu etched into the stone. It was black in color and there appeared to be smoke curling away from where it had been placed. The word was Urdu for ‘pig’. A sudden gust of unnaturally cold air appeared for a moment before dissipating, but not everyone was angry; many sounded fearful. Maryam saw a possible news angle regarding the vandalism, but who would do such a thing and how was it possible? The slur was high above anyone’s reach from the ground, so there would have had to be equipment around to do this, but according to some people she quickly interviewed, the slur had appeared out of thin air as if something had used the mosque as a writing surface. There just might be a story in this if she could find any other evidence of vandalism; it might even get past the censors and be published! It wasn’t long before Maryam found four other incidents of vandalism. Two of them were on other buildings, a third one had been burnt into the stone surface of a public square and a fourth one had been cut into a dead Tahakkum Din. Maryam stifled her fear reaction as she did the job for which she had been hired. After seeing the corpse though, she decided not to push her luck regarding the now angry groups of Tahakkum Din that appeared to increase.

Once back (alone of course) in her apartment, she began editing the video while she added her own commentary. She stuck only to the facts because her piece still had to get by the censors. Maryam simply accepted the censure as an established fact; those who didn’t either found themselves fired or in prison facing trial…or dead.

Maryam wasn’t especially religious but she kept her opinions on that matter to herself. She was shocked and unsettled upon seeing the vandalism, but on the flipside, she thought that the Tahakkum Din took their job too seriously. She had stopped talking to her two brothers a few years ago when they decided on their own that she wasn’t going back to University. She had met all sorts of people there including some who were radical in ways other than Islam including women’s rights. When she mentioned what her brothers had tried to do to her in an offhand manner, her brothers had been severely beaten the following day. When talking to her brothers only resulted in her being called a whore and an infidel, she wrote them both off as lost within their faith. She was surfing the internet when her mail program beeped; an American reporter had just posted more footage on their VideoDrome account. Maryam couldn’t help but have a twinge of jealousy when she watched the raw footage. This reporter was called Aleah Vesic and it didn’t look like she had to abide by any censors judging by what she had already posted. Another thing that made her slightly jealous was that she was stuck inside of Quetta while this reporter had been over a good part of Pakistan. She couldn’t believe the scenes of destruction that Aleah filmed. What in hell was going on outside of Quetta? Aleah’s recent pieces were from the northern area of the barricade, but they were mostly human interest in content. Had the destruction ended? When Maryam saw that Aleah was online, she sent her a message. She really didn’t expect a response, so she was surprised when one appeared only moments after she sent her message.

Aleah: I am Aleah Vesic; who is this?

Maryam: I am Maryam Queshad; it seems that we are both reporters. I am in Quetta.

Aleah: What’s going on in there? I am with the northern military group that has cordoned off the city.

Maryam: What happened in Peshawar and to that stadium?

Aleah: I didn’t get to those places until after they were destroyed, so I am not sure. I was tracking down a person in Pakistan who might have been kidnapped and then brought here, but I am on a short leash at the moment. How are things inside Quetta?

Maryam: About what you could imagine considering the way things are. Someone is vandalizing buildings at the moment; they are scrawling the Urdu word for pig in various places, but no one can find out who is responsible.

Aleah: Do you have any video?

Maryam: I edited what I had in hopes Al-Jazeera will publish and broadcast it, but it still has to go through the censors.

Aleah: Can you access the VideoDrome site to set up an account?

Maryam: I can view what is on the site but I am