The Time Altar: Book 2: The Fall

By Daniel Clerc

In the ashes of World War IV, planet earth is unrecognizable. Book 2 of the Time Altar Series, The Fall, finds Twenty-Fifth Century United America, a juggernaut, in the pockets of an iron fist fascist regime. The only counterweight, Mutare Science and Technology Global (MST), is much more than it appears.

Dr. Benjamin Murray escapes to MST with the time-traveler Lt. Col. Jake Gillean and a proxy war erupts between the two global heavyweights. As humanity wails under the weight of fascism, Jake demonstrates his skills as a high-tech warrior. But can one soldier alone make a difference?

This science fiction high-tech warfare thriller finds humanity on the brink of subjugation. In a dim future, with global powers asserting themselves on every level of human existence, the Artificial Intelligence that we have trusted to cultivate Mars may have been left to themselves for too long!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098355388

Book preview

Century

CHAPTER 40: TIME PERIOD #3: THE UNKNOWN PAST

[APRIL 22, AD 2441]

[LOCATION: ISLAND JUST NORTH OF ST. GEORGE’S IN GRENADA]

Dr. Benjamin Murray was pacing nervously in the underground bunker. It all hinged on the next few moments. His life’s magnus opus…the work of people extending back twenty generations. He couldn’t stand it. His heart was pounding. His body felt it wanted to explode in every direction all at once. He was tempted to barge through the door. He tried to listen, but it was futile. Its construction was far too heavy.

Lt. Col Jake Gillean was on the other side. He was watching the holographic message left by his deceased father, Thomas. Until that moment, the recording had been in the care of Mutare Science and Technology Global, also known as MST, the secret society dedicated to the restoration of world order. When the door closed ten minutes earlier, Jake was reeling under an immense weight. He had just learned that MST manipulated his beloved father’s DNA, a process that ultimately resulted in his death. Their goal was to alter Jake’s genome at the moment of conception, to make him faster, stronger, and more intelligent. But it had other unanticipated implications, things dark and foreboding. When Jake held the recording in his hand, when he contemplated what his father might want to tell him, he was doing everything he could to hold back the desire to rip MST apart. He had serious doubts whether he could trust MST.

Ben replayed the scene over and over in his mind. His words acted as a counterforce. He was able to shackle Jake’s raw emotions, allowing him precious time to process. Jake, listen to me, he said. For centuries MST has been working on time travel. We’ve achieved significant breakthroughs. Our intention has always been singular in purpose…to launch a mission back to the time of the Civil War. Our primary objective is to rescue you.

Jake faced him with the demeanor of an indomitable warrior on the verge of losing it. His expression was rigid and unrevealing.

Ben went on, trying to rescue the situation, At first, all we knew was what your ancestors told Col. Fisk about the night of November 29, 1864. That’s the last we knew about you until you showed up all-but-dead at the reenactment. Col. Fisk was trapped in the past. He searched everywhere for you, Jake…but he couldn’t find you. There was no trace, no hints about what happened. You simply ceased to exist. MST’s plan, as conceived by Col. Fisk, was to launch a rescue operation. MST was putting together an op, with plans to leverage the new tech the moment it became operational. We were going to send a team back to the night of your disappearance. The plan was to assess a fluid situation and intervene as necessary. But then, out of the blue, you materialized at the reenactment in Franklin, Tennessee. There must be an explanation. We just don’t know what it is. Jake, we need to know what happened back there. Then maybe, just maybe, we can piece together how and why you reappeared when and where you did. Please…help us Jake, so we can help you.

Jake contemplated Ben’s words. Then his gaze settled on the geneticist Dr. Annette Ratzlaff, Director of MST’s Biotech Division. Her wide eyes betrayed her ignorance of MST’s primary objectives. A battle was being waged in Jake’s mind. He was weary and broken inside. But at the same time, although he was afraid to look, the tiniest seed, a mustard seed of hope was taking root.

It was under those circumstances that Jake accepted the recorded message from his father. What harm could there be in watching? At least that’s what Jake thought. He had little inclination regarding what was about to happen, and the absolute chaos that was about be unleashed.

Jake turned his back on Ben and entered the communications suite. He closed the door and locked it. He didn’t want to be disturbed. For a long time he just sat, sinking into solitude, contemplating the recording. He was deep in thought. He flipped it over and over in his hand. He took notice of the trauma, the missing fingers. It was surreal, like the hand wasn’t his. He contrasted his life and his wounds against the memory of how he used to feel when he was a child. When he was with his father, he felt like he was safe…the innocence of childhood, destroyed so completely by the real world. Jake finally plugged in the recording and launched the holographic message. In an instant a perfect three-dimensional image of his father materialized. Just a moment earlier he had trouble recalling the nuances of his father’s features. Now, once he saw him, the fog of his memory cleared. While Thomas was exactly as he remembered, the eyes that were seeing the image had changed. In that fleeting moment of contemplation, Jake was struck by how the brutal experiences of his life had scarred him, how they had hardened him into someone his father would scarcely recognize. He felt shame; how far he had fallen into the well of despair. He felt weak and shuddered under the emotional weight. In the holographic image, the father Jake knew, a father who was dead, appeared alive and well; at the same time, the son the father knew was in so many ways already dead.

Thomas began the recording with a smile and pleasantries, Hello, son. It’s been a long time since we last sat down together. I want you to know that I am so immensely proud of you. The fact that you’re with me now is an indication that you have found a way to survive a terrible ordeal. It means there’s still hope. We have so much to talk about. In your heart I want you to understand that I know you’ve been to hell and back. Like no one else, I know how my boy has suffered. I’d like to tell you that it’s over…but it isn’t. Son, not only do I know what happened to you, I know what is about to happen. I’m your support. I’m doing absolutely everything I can to help you. In my heart I like to think that I’m throwing you a lifeline of sorts. I’m encouraging you to trust the people who have gathered around you. MST is your friend.

Thomas then launched into the primary purpose of the message. Jake, I’ve been briefed on everything that is going to happen after I die. The holographic image flickered occasionally but otherwise continued in pristine quality. "First, MST is the last great hope for humanity. Please understand—I was fully informed. I accepted the consequences of participating in their genetic procedures. I knew exactly what was going to happen to me. I know that this comes as a shock to you, but, please, do not turn your back on them. That being said, Jake, if you’ll indulge me, I would like to express some thoughts. I’ll try to find the right words, so here it goes. When I look back at my life, my military career, when I think about the things I did and then ask why, the answer has never been clearer. It wasn’t a primal devotion to United America, or to the flag. No. To me, patriotism is something much deeper and more abstract. It’s a devotion and a dedication to fight for concepts bigger than myself and my own life. I fought for the rights of humanity, for equality of justice, for freedom and liberty. While those concepts exist independent of United America, that is what the flag represents. We don’t stand at attention and salute a piece of cloth. Jake, our flag has always stood for something special. It stands for what can be as much as it does what was and what is. No other flag has ever stood as a beacon calling people to follow into the future like ours. It serves as a beacon of hope. When it’s unfurled, it conveys the message that We the People are engaged. When it flaps in the breeze, it proclaims that we will continually overcome the dark aspects of humanity, that we put them in our past, and we move forward toward a brighter future. It proclaims that we are coming to serve and protect. All across the globe, suppressed people cry tears of joy when they see it. It represents deliverance and safety.

I think you’ve discovered things are different now. In the history of the world we had something special, a governmental structure built on the principle of counterbalancing forces. We had a Bill of Rights to secure our freedoms. Even the lowliest citizen was guaranteed due process in a court of law. It was cemented in a foundation of personal property rights that superseded the rights of the government. Our system was unprecedented in the annals of human history. It was a gift. But as you’re watching this, it’s all gone. United America—as you and I knew it—is dead. Our flag is gone forever.

Jake knew the undeniable truth of his father’s words. From what he witnessed so far; United America bore little resemblance to the country he knew. It had devolved into a police state dominated by a single political ideology, and the primary moral precept of the sanctity of life had been replaced by adherence and obedience to fascism.

Thomas continued, "You see, son, I believe that most people are inherently good. But not all of them. Human nature does have a dark side, a dark side that fools ignore. Since antiquity, every society has been riddled with individuals harboring criminal intent; people who would see humanity burn for personal gain. The perpetuation of freedom and liberty demands constant vigilance from an educated and engaged population because it is constantly under attack. On one flank we find the base thugs, thieves, rapists, drug-dealers, and murderers. On the other is a much more dangerous group. These are the ones who co-op the democratic process for personal power and financial gain. These are the people who destroyed our country.

"The Egalitarian Party is the visible manifestation of a vast network of entrenched militant fascists. The philosophy is a contagion that has ebbed and flowed for hundreds of years, long before the creation of the Egalitarian Party. The philosophical ideas of secular humanism infiltrated the vast inner workings of government, gradually shifting it over the course of many generations. Industries and monied interests increasingly pulled the levers of government. They owned the politicians. The final nails in the coffin came a couple of generations after the fascists silently took control of both the education and banking sectors. Following this, the fourth arm of government, the media, became intertwined financially and ideologically with the fascists. This effectively destroyed any pretense of investigative journalism. The ideologues became complicit in breaking down society’s understanding of right and wrong, replacing the moral fabric of the populace with moral relativism. The media spewed nothing more than rank propaganda, while the fascists of the Egalitarian Party controlled the content. They made empty promises of a better and more comfortable future, while at the same time they seized the wheels of power. Most people were misled, while voices of dissension were silenced. It wasn’t the proletariat versus the bourgeoise—it was one group convinced that they were being oppressed versus those they perceived as being the oppressors. As history has demonstrated repeatedly, without a powerful political counterbalance the outcome was predictable. American society became dependent on the Egalitarians and all opposition was crushed.

In the aftermath of World War IV, the nightmare scenario actually happened. Too many took their freedoms and liberties for granted, and there came a day when the country you and I were fighting for ceased to exist. No external force was ever capable of taking over United America. No…our country was destined to go the way of the other great countries. It was doomed to collapse from within. After a solemn pause, Thomas continued, "Jake, I want you to understand the enormity of what is being asked of you. You are being asked to fight for an idea and an ideal, and against opposing beliefs. Militarized fascist socialism is a cancer and a plague of intolerance. It will not go down easily. They will fight to the death. With their last gasp, they will find a way to fight. It will be the most destructive war seen in the history of our planet. They only value a narrow view of humanity and they will conduct war with no moral boundaries.

I don’t have anything else to say right now, Jake, Thomas said. There are more messages, but those are for later. United America doesn’t need you anymore, son. It’s dead. It no longer exists. Don’t try to put it back together. Humanity does need you. The ideals of freedom and liberty, equality of justice, and equality of opportunity need a champion. The leader of a movement must have a clear vision of who he or she is and what he or she is fighting for. Under other circumstances, if I could choose how to die, it would be on my feet fighting for those ideals. But that’s not how my life is going to play out. I’m going to die in my bed emaciated and choking on my own vomit. I willingly chose that death, Jake. I chose to die on that hill, knowing that it might help you, and that you, in turn, might be able to turn the tide of world affairs. I love you, son. I’m proud of you, and I know you’ll make the right decision.

CHAPTER 41: TIME PERIOD #3: ACTION

[APRIL 22, AD 2441]

[LOCATION: ISLAND JUST NORTH OF ST. GEORGE’S IN GRENADA]

Jake was pacing the floor of the communications suite, contemplating the message and the warning. Despite a sense of foreboding, he decided to trust his father. He would join MST. From that point on, there would be no turning back.

The door made a loud clunking sound when Jake unlocked it. Ben jumped, startled by the suddenness of the noise. He waited, staring at the door. Nothing happened. ‘Open, darn it!’ His mind screamed. But nothing happened. He checked the handle. It was unlocked. He knocked lightly as he opened the door, just enough to stick his head in. Jake was sitting in front of the bank Vintel units. His expression was hard to read.

Jake sensed Ben’s indecision. Come on in, he said. He handed Ben the recording. It’s unlocked. You are free to watch it later if you like.

Ben accepted the device but was still confused. Finally, he blurted out, So what’s the verdict?

I have decided to follow my father’s advice, Jake said. I’m going to trust MST. So, where do we go from here?

There was an immediate sense of urgency. Ben talked in a hushed but hurried tone as they briskly moved down the launch corridor. Latest intel indicates it’s going to happen. United America is about to launch an invasion of Brazil. The South American coalition is circling the drain.

How much time do we have? Jake asked.

About seventy-two hours. We need to get you briefed in the use of the latest tech from MST and introduce you to the team. I think you’ll be pleased. The file is labeled 4ALPHAG.22441. I have not seen it, Ben admitted. Above my pay grade. It’s encrypted. You should know the security questions. Ben motioned to his BCD and then initiated a file transfer over to Jake’s. The transfer wiped the data from his own in the process and it only took a blink for the files to appear on Jake’s system. He would review them at his leisure.

What’s Brazil’s disposition?

Can’t stop it, Ben admitted. United America is a juggernaut. The overall discrepancy between their capabilities and the rest of the world’s, well, throughout history, I don’t think it has ever been so out of balance. There is no effective counterweight. MST’s strategy is to support Brazil, get in front of the invasion, and slow it down if we can. Save as many lives as possible in the process.

What’s the military intel?

We’ll see noise all along the Atlantic coast, but the main thrust is going to come across a corridor on the Northeast coast of Brazil.

Numbers? Jake asked.

We estimate about two to three million men. That means the combination of androids and human, Ben said. He caught the surprised expression on Jake’s face. Sorry. A lot has changed, he explained. "Men is a collective term. Just like when gender neutralization laws passed hundreds of years ago and the distinctions between men and women were eliminated, android equality laws have advanced the rights of autonomously functioning artificial intelligence to the same level as humans. It’s all included in the word men. The numbers are estimates of humans and androids."

Jake reluctantly indicated his attempt to understand, That’s going to take some getting used to. Then he redirected, What are the regional politics?

The South American Coalition was established as a counterweight against United America. MST was instrumental in its creation, but the North American Intelligence Agency, the NAIA has been active. Intel is soft, but there’s a chance the whole thing could fall apart. If the last six hundred years has taught us anything, it’s that regional conflicts are endemic to the Continent. The South Americans don’t get along. The unification was only ratified because of a universal distrust of their neighbor to the north. The South American Continental Government is dominated by Brazil, but most of the power is still decentralized, being maintained by the individual countries.

They emerged from the corridor into the launch bay. It was a dark subterranean chamber with seven water-filled launch platforms. In five of the platforms were the latest incarnations of MST’s Gopher technology hybridized into a combination of hypersonic jet and mini submarine. All except one were elevated and out of the water as human technicians worked alongside androids that ranged from bipedal to octopedal. One of the dark blue smooth-skinned crafts was in position to launch, with its nose tilted downward into a rock hewn tube. The exterior of the Gopher was soft, gel-like, almost biological to the touch.

In flight, the properties of the exterior change, Ben commented. We call it the skin. It is a new shape-memory alloy that will self-heal exterior damage, act as a heat shield, and when hypersonic it will become the toughest metal alloy yet invented. He handed Jake a helmet and snapped his own in place. They boarded and strapped into the auxiliary seats.

Welcome aboard, the pilot said. She looked human but was, in fact, an android. She barely managed a glance, distracted by the safety check. Once she completed the process of entering the navigation sequence, she turned toward them, verified they were strapped in, and then twirled her finger in the air, indicating that they were ready to roll.

The canopy closed above them and the craft accelerated through the launch tube. The velocity was stunning and yet they felt nothing. Ben was ready to give Jake an impromptu lecture on the technology, but Jake beat him to it.

This tech makes nearly everything we were doing sixty years ago during World War IV obsolete. Jake was ripping through the advanced tech files that Ben transferred to his BCD.

For centuries, manned vehicles were restricted in performance to the biological limits of the human body. They could only achieve a limited G-force before rendering the person unconscious, or even killing them. This eventually made drones the norm. However, they were so susceptible to hacking that they became dangerously unreliable. They were often turned against their creators. However, after hundreds of years, MST had done the impossible. They learned how to manipulate gravity. It was all about respective coordinates, or position in space, and matter in relation to anti-matter. The old paradigm was that if one person stood still and the other sped away in a craft at 5G, the person in the craft would experience five times the force of gravity, while the person standing would experience no comparable force. It was all about the respective coordinates in relation to the Earth’s gravitational center and the rate of acceleration. With MST’s tech, it was as though the person in the craft was standing still and the rest of the world was moving away at 5G in the opposite direction. They learned how to do this through the manipulation of gravitational force.

Within 15 minutes, Jake had gone through all the files. Ben was beyond impressed by the feat. It’s as though Jake’s brain wasn’t human. But even an android couldn’t do it that fast and incorporate the information. It was increasingly plain to him…Jake was proving to be everything he was cracked up to be.

How would you like to link BCDs and we can do a simulation with the new exosuits? Ben suggested. Be prepared though, the realism is about to impress you.

We shall see, Jake said. Soon he was test-flying the latest MST Exosuit. The BCD rendering was so good that the simulation was nearly indistinguishable from the real thing. The exosuit was a thing of beauty. I am impressed, Jake admitted. The hands and feet had embedded tech to complement the primary anti-gravity unit, which was mounted across the back. It contained enough redundancy to survive any major catastrophe. The exosuit was sleek and black with gray trimmings, the bio-enhanced muscle fibrils and sensory systems built into the suit made it magnificently superior compared to the exosuits Jake wore during World War IV.

Try to keep up, Jake said.

Hold up, Ben said. I need to change my color combo.

What? Jake said.

My color combo. Black and gray are boring. The programmers lack boldness and creativity.

You’re kidding, right? Jake asked.

Nope. You’re going to be jealous. Ben was proud of himself. Check it out…dark green with deep grey trim and a skull on my chest.

You look pretty, Jake said.

Oh…you just shut yourself up, Ben said. When we spar, I’ll have trouble telling you apart from all the other novice-level computer bots with your boring default black and gray suit.

Soon they were flying at hypersonic speed, stopping, twisting and turning on a dime, and then reversing direction. The neural integration is seamless, Jake said. I’m registering a response time of less than a millisecond.

Let’s see what you can do without the anti-gravity system, Ben suggested. The simulation brought them down in a holographic urban setting. On Ben’s suggestion, they disengaged flight controls and limited their exosuits to manual power. Okay. Just me and you and our suits. You’ll find that these suits are limited in many respects to the limitations of your mind and body rather than technology. It’s not only how strong and fast you are, but how badly you want something. I’ve been playing with this exosuit simulator for a while and I’m surprisingly good. So how about we start with me attacking you? So you can get the feel of it.

Give me your worst, Jake said. Ben extended his fist, they did a fist bump, and then the fight began. Ben punched and kicked. Jake dodged and weaved. You move pretty good for… Jake said. But he didn’t finish the sentence.

For what, an old guy? Ben said, pausing his attack to clarify.

I was going to say…a guy in such a pretty exosuit, Jake laughed. But I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.

Ben laughed and then launched a flurry of jabs, hooks, and roundhouses. Jake ducked, skirted back and to the side, and then blocked three blows. He had already determined Ben’s fighting tendencies, reading his movements a fraction of a moment after Ben’s brain registered the thought. Ben grabbed a pod hovering on the street and threw it, then another and another. Jake dodged them and they crashed into the buildings, sending glass flying everywhere. Alarms were blaring. Ben threw a pod up in the air in a high arc. Then he threw another as a line-drive right at Jake. Jake twisted, grabbed one pod, and then used it to smash the other. Immersed in a cloud of debris, Ben launched a vicious front kick. His foot struck Jake in the chest. Jake skidded backward about twenty feet, his back leg digging a rut into the pavement. The force of the kick and the subsequent slide caused smoke to emanate from under Jake’s supporting boot.

What is it that you jarheads say…Ooh-rah? Ben said. His voice was sarcastically high-pitched.

Jake laughed. He looked upward and exclaimed, On behalf of all the warriors of antiquity, I beg forgiveness. Ben is wearing exosuit big-boy pants today and just can’t help himself. Then Jake clarified, Oh, by the way, I let you kick me. I wanted to see how the suit would respond.

Yeah right! Ben exclaimed. What a huge load of bull. Now try to attack me. No more than he said the words, he saw a flash and his screen turned red. Across the center, it said DEATH. What the hell! He exclaimed. Let’s do it aga..! DEATH – DEATH – DEATH. Three times in succession. This is ridiculous. Did you hack the simulation?

No, Jake chided. I’ll slow it down for you.

Ben could see Jake’s commands through his BCD and then the simulation replayed each encounter at quarter speed. They were standing about a meter apart. In the first simulation, Ben was in a martial arts stance. Jake shot his hand, fingers extended, straight forward with a slicing motion. Such was the speed and force that it went through Ben’s neck, taking out a swath of tissue four centimeters thick. Blood splattered everywhere. Even at the slowed rate, Jake was lightning fast. In the second simulation, he grabbed Ben’s closed fist and drove it through his eye socket, crushing the front of his skull and smashing the fragments into his brain. Then in the third, he punched him in the forehead, his neck went into extension and broke while the front of his head disappeared, and the next, more of the same.

When Ben understood what happened, his expression morphed from disbelief to indignation. Only two words pop into my mind right now. He looked at Jake and said clearly and succinctly, You suck.

Jake laughed. The only two things that popped into your mind were my fists.

Shut up, Ben grumbled.

Jake laughed again.

We have reached our destination, the android pilot announced. Would you like to have a look outside? Without waiting for a response, the pilot activated the exterior reveal. Jake made careful note of the artificial intelligence characteristics of the android. It was operating in a completely autonomous manner. He found it fascinating and yet oddly disconcerting.

Exterior reveal was a holographic projection across the interior of the craft. It made the entire hull appear completely transparent. The projection was so real that when activated the hull simply vanished and the water appeared to close in on them. Their waists were below the waterline and the waves were angrily lapping at the sides of the craft. The illusion was momentarily disconcerting.

Ben flinched. The pilot laughed heartily, Gets ‘em every time.

Have you seen anything like this before? Ben asked. The Gopher swayed on the surface of the South Pacific. The panoramic view revealed a clear sky. Before them was MST’s island base.

No. Don’t reckon I have, Jake muttered. MST’s island fortress consisted of sheer white cliff faces jutting vertically out of the ocean. It formed the periphery of the horseshoe-shaped island, its walls ranging easily from five hundred to a thousand meters in height. The entire rim was weaponized, and a massive energy shield formed a protective dome over the island. The energy field extended deep under water and churned its surface in a wide circle around the island.

Clearance has been authorized, the pilot announced. Confirming. Releasing control in three, two, one. Control released. The submarine lifted out of the water and began its ascent in complete silence. The craft crested the cliff walls and continued gaining altitude, revealing the center of the island. It appeared to be concealed by fog, but it was an illusion. The fog was a holographic projection. Instantaneously, when they breached the security perimeter, the holographic imagery disappeared to reveal the entirety of MST’s island base. The city itself was over three hundred square kilometers, dotted with an occasional green space, and was beyond measure the world’s most technologically advanced city. The island in its entirety boasted an interior of just over one hundred ten thousand square kilometers, just about the same as Cuba.

This city has everything it needs to survive, Ben said. The rest of the world could undergo an extinction-level event and the roughly one million people here and the two million androids would be fine. Food, shelter, textiles, manufacturing, medical facilities, entertainment, it’s all contained right here. I’ll show you more, but for now we’ve got other more pressing matters.

Roger that, Jake said.

* * * * *

Deep in NAIA headquarters in New Washington, the ex-Director of the NAIA, Jorge Marshall, didn’t wait for an answer. His security clearance went all the way to the top and he had authority from President Martinez to take over the case. He was brusque, asking again, Do you have him?

Yes, NAIA Director Carl Zimmer answered. He’s with Murray, one of our best agents. Given the sensitivity of the case and the current, Zimmer cleared his throat, circumstances, he was taken off the grid to an undisclosed location. Part of an interrogation technique—befriend and exploit. But, he went on, recent evidence raises the possibility that our agent may have gone rogue. While I can’t prove it, it has MST’s fingerprints.

Marshall underwent an immediate metamorphosis. His face became red with anger. Do you realize what you have done? You may have let the most important target in history slip through your fingers.

Do you expect me to know what you’re talking about? What do you know? Zimmer retorted.

Marshall took stock. What he wanted to say was, ‘Lt. Col. Jake Gillean almost single-handedly destroyed the Egalitarian government…sixty years ago.’ But what came out was, Your security clearance doesn’t go high enough!

Zimmer was seething, but knew better than to challenge Marshall until he had more information.

Pull everything you have and bring it to me. When Zimmer didn’t react immediately, Marshall slammed his fist on the desk and yelled, NOW! We don’t have time to waste. I want everything—his home, his family, everything. Level 4 interrogations of everyone close to him. This takes priority. Reassign the necessary assets. Get it done.

The diplomat situation requires…

Marshall cut him off, This takes priority. The diplomat situation is nothing more than a diversion.

A diversion? What was he talking about? United America was about to go to war, and he calls it a diversion? Zimmer checked his emotions, going from angry to calculating. No one treated him this way. Marshall had no idea how advanced NAIA’s interrogation techniques had become. One command was all it would take, and Zimmer could see to it that ex-Director Marshall would disappear. He could forcibly extract whatever information he wanted and then make up whatever cover story he desired. And under the current circumstances he’d get away with it.

* * * * *

United America’s President Martinez, along with his senior military generals, were in a virtual conference with the governors of Venezuela, Columbia, and Peru. The highest level of encryption technology was in place, a code secure to the point that MST wasn’t even close to hacking it. The signal the Egalitarian Party used was exceedingly dangerous. If any unauthorized device attempted to upload the communication, it would be invaded by a variety of malignant programs. Once the spyware was used to extract any useful information, the cyber network would be destroyed by killer viruses uploaded along with the original signal. The hardware and the software were tightly controlled by the military secret service arm of the NAIA. Each of the devices was perpetually guarded by a team of commandos and would be destroyed by a suicide switch if they ever came under threat.

I think we have an agreement, President Martinez stated. He scanned the holographic images of each of the governors. They all indicated that they concurred. In the middle of the room hovered a map of South America. It indicated that South America was being carved into three separate countries. Venezuela would control all the north and northeastern portions. Columbia would possess a huge area through Brazil and parts of Argentina, Bolivia, Paraguay, and Uruguay, with an Eastern seaboard extending from Vitoria, Brazil to Mar del Plata, Argentina. The rest of the South American Continent would belong to Peru.

President Martinez gloated, The days of Brazil dictating policy, the days of Brazil having a heavy hand and dominating the South American Coalition, the days of Brazil’s economic exploitation are over. The day of Brazil has passed. This agreement between our countries will usher forth a new era of peace and prosperity. Martinez assessed the governors and then added, The world will be a better place when each of you and your countries assume your rightful place. United America has been impressed by your wisdom and the mastery of leadership each of you has demonstrated. United America stands firm, and will always stand firm in defense of the bright future that is just beyond the horizon. Right now, you are governors. Very soon you will assume your rightful place as Presidents, ruling for life under the new constitutions we have drawn up for you.

The agreement that was forced upon them was that each country would allow United American forces to launch an invasion across their territory. They would not only offer no resistance, but they also agreed to provide material support. On the heels of the invasion, they would seize control of the conquered territory and handle security behind the lines. This would free up the bulk of UA forces for frontline action. Once Brazil fell, they would conquer the remaining countries, likely finding the stiff secondary resistance in Argentina and Chile. The prediction was that the entire operation would be wrapped up in a matter of months.

‘So easily manipulated,’ Martinez thought. ‘They actually believe what I’m saying. They are going to salute the flag of United America and we will gain something that no country has in the history of the world—a hemispheric empire.’ Each of the governors had weaknesses. All he had to do was apply pressure in the right place. The most difficult was Columbia. There, the NAIA was forced to secretly implant self-destruct devices in the brains and bodies of over a hundred of the Governor’s family and closest friends. They were drugged and a micro implant was surgically placed in each. All it took was one death to secure her assurance of complete cooperation.

* * * * *

The tension had never been so high. X3 Bytel was an android of the gender nonspecific variety. It knew that death was the punishment for a false move. It was doing its best. Concentrating. Being cautious. ‘Do what I always do. No deviation.’ The thoughts were racing across its bioprosthetic neural circuits. ‘Keep it purposeful and do a good job.’ Being subtle was the best way to avoid drawing unwanted attention. X3 Bytel was assigned to the cleaning detail on MST’s island fortress. It had Level 4 clearance. That meant it was subject to weekly neural screenings in addition to the regular security checks. So advanced were the neural circuits that each unit developed its own unique personality and was self-aware. It could experience everything common to human life, including loss and pleasure, with the only real exception being the sexual desire associated with biological reproduction. X3 had been recently reassigned to the military side of MST’s operation. The android was working in the strategy dome, a monstrous holographic training ground that was roughly two kilometers in diameter. It was where MST’s latest military innovations were field-tested.

Something was perversely different with X3. It was far more human than anticipated. For a few days, it felt ashamed and paranoid. Unwittingly, X3 had allowed a rogue program to invade its system, corrupting its operating systems. It happened after experiencing an adventure in the Virtual Vacation Center. It was told that there was an ultimate adventure simulation under development, that they needed a volunteer for an experience of ultimate pleasure. It never occurred to X3 that it was always the same receptionist working with it, and it didn’t seem odd to it at the time that the receptionist said to keep it a secret. All it had to do was enjoy the experience and then fill out a questionnaire. It was everything promised, and so much more. It was the most intense pleasure X3 had ever experienced, every circuit fired simultaneously in its pleasure center. As quickly as that…X3 was trapped in a cycle of addiction. The NAIA had snared another unsuspecting target inside MST.

Ever since, what would be called X3’s conscience was bothered, yet it yearned to feel the pleasure again, and it did—again and again. Afterward, it always felt moody and depressed. X3 felt guilty for having a weakness, but it was powerless to escape the addiction.

After the addiction was established, X3 was asked to do menial tasks in exchange for time basking in the pleasure experience. Then the demands grew more troublesome. The vulnerability in autonomous androids was just as NAIA simulations predicted. As the androids became more autonomous, they tended to develop characteristics that were distinctively human. As a result, United America was able to successfully hack MST’s vaunted cyber security. X3 was now their tool.

The androids were designed by MST to function independently. They were equipped with the ability to reason. As they grew more advanced, they also became self-aware. They were thought to be immune to remote hacking. However, there was a theoretical weakness. As they became more human, other vulnerabilities would emerge—namely pleasure and the potential for addiction. X3 was now NAIA’s pawn.

Its usual job duties included cleaning the ventilation shafts, the associated pipes, and the exposed wiring. It hesitated, knowing that what it was doing was wrong. Plugging a rogue device into the mainframe was wrong. The act violated all the rules, all the security programming.

‘It’s not my fault,’ X3 thought. ‘It’s not my fault. Nothing bad will happen.’ Its thought process was circular and maddening. It ended with, ‘Even if something bad happens, it will be because of them, not me. I didn’t do anything bad.’ It proceeded to swing the handle of its ionizing cleaning wand. It looked like an accident. The handle struck the security camera and the lens abruptly moved upward. Now it wouldn’t be seen. ‘Nothing bad will happen,’ it again thought. X3 looked left and then right. There was no activity in the area. It was alone. Quietly removing the cover from behind the environmental control console, it located the appropriate port and quickly inserted the device. X3 replaced the cover, and pushed the security camera back into place. Just like that it was done. It continued its shift. For a brief period, X3 felt remorse. After that, all it could think about was the next pleasure experience.

* * * * *

At one of United America’s clandestine NAIA bases, this one on Ometepe Island in Nicaragua, a team of hackers was working on a top-secret mission. Undercover operatives immersed deep in MST relayed piecemeal information back to United America. When compiled in its entirety, it revealed that MST stole the designs of weapon systems and battle droids currently being used by United America’s military. While MST engineered military hardware, they were hardly the sole manufacturers in the world. Over the last several decades, the Egalitarian government had adopted an adversarial relationship with MST. Now, the most advanced military androids in the United American arsenal were exclusively American. This included the Spyder17A, a front-line battle droid that was all but unstoppable. MST reverse-engineered several identical droids and were using them for training purposes. The mission was to hack into MST, seize control of the weapons, and do as much damage as possible.

Success! The device is in place, Tanika Williams said. She failed to hide the excitement in her voice. We have access to the mainframe through the climate control systems in the training center.

How long do you think it will take? Major Shyta asked.

I don’t know, sir. It might take a couple of hours. If history proves accurate, MST can be sloppy with the sockets they use in the tertiary energy control systems. We’re working on developing a backdoor entry.

The whole team is working on it?

Yes, sir. We’re all in the deep. She was communicating through a communications link. There was no direct visual contact with her commanding officer, although Major Shyta wasn’t more than ten meters away. The team of twelve were suited up and inside what was known as the ‘Dark Matter Chambers,’ or DMCs, called such because they were everywhere and yet hard to find.

Let me know as soon as we have access to the battle droids. The pilots are suited up and ready to go.

* * * * *

In the end, the last soldier on the field, if they are going to be reliable, needs to be human, Ben said. They were on the MST island and Jake was getting a basic tour. First stop was the strategy dome where Jake was scanned for the final fitting on his exosuit. After that they visited the adjacent command center. He was shown his new quarters and introduced to his staff. Jake was presently with Ben in his private quarters.

Ben was saying, Even in the face of Android tech being stronger and faster in every comparative category, it is still MST’s belief that humans are more reliable. That’s why we have the Sentinels.

Ben was explaining MST’s military. Field units were almost exclusively of the special forces variety—lightning fast and lethal. With the development of advanced technologies and smaller, more maneuverable weaponry, the ability to destroy things became almost too easy. As a result, the historical armies made up of millions of soldiers had passed the way of the dodo bird. The extinction was complete by the end of World War IV.

You are going to meet the Sentinels later, Ben said. "A soft demo against the Spyder17A Battle Droid. Understand, these guys are the best of the best. Our version of your Alpha Group. They’ve been together for years and have established close bonds and a hierarchy. Their commander is Col. Yingjie Liang. He’s