Fall Revolution 4: The Sky Road

Plan, was at the bottom of all this, that it had
implemented itself on the Sheenisov’s machine ecology and
was in the process of taking over the world. With the best
intentions, no doubt.
    ‘God, yes, you’re right,’ she said.
‘It’s you or the Outwarders. Both sides are like the
fucking Borg. ‘You will be assimilated“ –
isn’t that what you’re telling me?’
    Nok-Yung shrugged. ‘It’s not something sinister.
We all live in the world machine. Why not live in a world machine
that is on our side?’
    Myra had to smile. ‘You want me to imagine the
future,’ she said, ‘as socialism with a human face
-for ever?’
    ‘Yes!’ they both said, pleased that she’d
got the point at last.
    It really would be hard to end this conversation politely, but
she would try.
    ‘I’ll take your message back to President
Suleimanyov,’ she said. ‘No doubt you will await our
response.’
    Se-Ha and Nok-Yung stood up and shook her hand gravely.
    ‘Goodbye,’ she said.
    ‘Goodbye,’ they both said.
    Se-Ha smiled mischievously. ‘I hope I see you
again.’
     
    They’d rented the plane, an executive jet that had seen
better days, in Almaty. Just as well; Myra could not have borne
to displace any passengers on the commercial flights out of
Semipalatinsk, standing room only and a strict baggage
allowance.
    As soon as they were beyond Sheenisov airspace – and
Sheenisov jamming – Parvus made a priority over-ride and
poked his virtual head over the back of the seat in front of
her.
    ‘Sorry about this, Myra,’ the AI murmured.
‘Urgent messages.’
    ‘Patch ‘em through,’ she said.
    The message queue consisted of calls from Sulei-manyov,
Valentina Kozlova and someone with an anonymous code identifier.
She worked through them one by one.
    As soon as she blinked on the President’s identifier, he
was through, live from his office. Various aides and ministers
hovered in the periphery of the shot.
    ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Results?’
    Myra grimaced. ‘They’re adamant that they
won’t accept it I was as surprised as you are. In fact, I
was shocked. I have a suspicion that the secret of their military
and economic co-ordination is a military AI, and that it
is… calling the shots.’
    Chingiz took this with unexpected aplomb.
    ‘It was worth trying,’ he said. He waved his hand,
downwards. ‘However, the Sheenisov are no longer our most
immediate problem.’
    ‘What’s happened?’
    He smiled wryly. ‘As we expected. It’s all gone
public now – everyone knows about the nukes. Our generous
offers to the United States, and to other countries, have been
referred up to the UN – and referred back to the Security
Council, for immediate action. We are to turn over our nuclear
weapons to forces under UN authority within twenty-four hours
– twenty-three and a half, now – or face aerial and
space attack. Specifically, on Kapitsa, which they have rightly
identified as the focus of the problem. After Kapitsa,
Almaty.’
    Myra thought for a moment that the virtual view had gone
monochrome, and that the plane had turned over. Then everything
was normal again.
    ‘If they carry through their threat against Kapitsa
-well, I would hope for air support.’ She smiled wanly.
‘But please, Chingiz. Don’t let them ruin
Almaty.’
    ‘I have no intention of letting them do that,’ he
said. ‘I suggest you return to Kapitsa. You have problems
of your own. Evacuate the town, if you can. Let them hit an empty
shell. We’ll send transport and cavalry.’
    ‘Cavalry?’
    ‘For… internal security. The stand-off around the
government building is very tense.’ He glanced away.
‘Your own Defence Minister is trying to get through to you.
She can explain the situation better than I can. Goodbye for
now.’
    ‘Goodbye, Chingiz.’
    Before taking the next call, Myra turned to Nurup and
Mustafa.
    ‘We’re diverting to Kapitsa,’ she said.
‘I may be going into a very volatile situation. Street
violence, at least. And possible bombing, maybe up to nuclear
level. This is not what I hired you for. We can drop you off at
Karaganda first, if you wish.’
    The two mujahedin looked deeply offended.
    ‘Our job is to keep you safe until you return to Almaty,
or until you tell us to go,’ Nurup said.
    ‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’m telling you to
go.’
    She reached for the intercom toggle. Mustafa was out of his
seat in an instant, and placed a