Sobol was already talking again on screen. “What’s more, the Daemon will continue to destroy the resources of these individuals wherever they appear—in whatever form. And a log of your recent actions will be submitted to pertinent law enforcement agencies and the companies you were targeting. And as for the people who helped make all this possible? The assistants, lawyers, brokers, programmers, accountants, and security forces? To those people I say: your employers have no money. So do the smart thing—and just walk away.”
The cavorting corporate Muzak returned, along with manic studio audience applause. Sobol waved. “Thanks for invoking this event, and remember, if you’re not playing the game, it’s playing you. Bye-bye now!”
Credits began to roll at double-fast speed.
“Turn it off!”
The screen went black and Connelly looked up at the nearest network analyst. “Well? Can we confirm if our networks are intact? Have our companies been affected?”
The analyst just cast a look at Connelly, then picked up his coat and hurried for the door.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“We don’t work here anymore. And neither do you.”
Connelly turned to Johnston.
Johnston just shook his head. “That’s ridiculous!”
Suddenly one of the board operators turned on the broadcast and cable news stations again, and there, on almost every channel, was Anji Anderson. She was sitting at a conference table. It looked to be surveillance footage as seen from up near the ceiling—but the individual on-screen was unmistakably Anji Anderson, the famous newscaster.
Connelly stared at the screens in confusion. “What the hell is this?”
The board operator was grabbing his coat, too. “It’s playing on every station. Someone hijacked the emergency uplink we were going to use after the blackout. They somehow got footage from the surveillance system.”
Everyone in the control center looked up at the camera pods mounted on the ceiling.
“Good god . . .”
“I advise that you try to escape as best you can, General. We have no secrets anymore.”
Connelly looked back at the live television monitors. On-screen Anji Anderson was nodding, as what looked to be consultants conferred with her.
“—but the change needs to be sold to the American people with a sudden disruption. Otherwise they’ll resist strongly. It needs to be the penultimate event that marks a demarcation between what came before and what must come after. It’s a psychological transition.”
Anderson nodded. “And the blackout does that?”
“Our studies show that a period of general anarchy as brief as forty-eight hours would make the public willing to accept severe changes in exchange for security.”
Another market consultant held up sample graphics on a foam core board. “We’re calling it Cybergeddon.”
“That’s catchy. . . .”
Chapter 38: // Ghost from the Machine
Darknet Top-rated Posts +2,995,383↑
Why are Logistics Defense sorcerers like Loki permitted to kill unarmed people? I’m at Sky Ranch right now, and it looks like we’ve won. But as I stand here, Loki’s razorbacks are cutting down surrendering kitchen staff. He’s preparing to murder the families of the financiers who were behind this. Anybody have an idea how we can stop this psycho?
After the darknet came back online, Sebeck got busy examining darknet video streams from the thousands of operatives swarming over the ranch. He grabbed Price and hopped on a pickup truck loaded down with darknet Fighters brandishing automatic weapons. As they drove the final miles past wrecked military equipment and dead mercenaries, Sebeck watched D-Space video clips of Loki’s mechanical army smashing through the defenses. Swarms of his razorbacks, AutoM8s, and microjets were spreading through Sky Ranch’s network of roads, tearing into every soldier or worker they came across. As the private military’s disorder spread and their radio communications disintegrated, the mercenaries retreated back toward the main ranch house, only to encounter a wave of mercenaries going in the other direction—telling tales of bankruptcy and trying to escape the ranch.
But thousands of darknet operatives were storming the ranch from every direction now, breaking into large complexes and warehouses filled with luxury consumer products, barrels of wine, pharmaceuticals, and racks upon racks of spare machinery and parts. As darknet journalists posted their reports, it became increasingly clear that the residents of Sky Ranch were planning on being here for a while. Perhaps waiting out an unfolding chaos they’d helped to cause in the outside world.
Darknet troops had begun accepting the mass surrender of mercenaries from dozens of companies, stripping them of weapons, and taking iris scans and fingerprints. No longer employed, the multinational army of mercs wasn’t up for a fight—especially when it was outnumbered forty to one.
But at the center of the ranch Loki’s machines were still marauding. Razorbacks, AutoM8s, and low-flying microjets were crisscrossing the gardens around the house, parking lots, roads, and kitchens, killing any non-darknet member they found—without exception.
There was sheer terror around the central compound as surrendering household staff members pleaded with darknet operatives—who could not prevent the blood-soaked machines from hacking their captives to death.
Sebeck and Price reached the grounds of the mansion and joined a large crowd of operatives already surrounding it. All eyes were on Loki Stormbringer, as darknet feeds denounced him. People everywhere downvoted him, but Loki’s reputation score already could go no lower. In the broad plaza before the mansion, Loki stared with lifeless eyes from a position on his Ducati street bike. He had formed hundreds of razorbacks into a ring around the main house, where the international financiers with their wives and children had barricaded the ornate doors. Loki appeared to be sensing the world through the eyes of his numberless minions, through their sensors, scouring every inch of this place, every culvert—searching for people in hiding. He seemed ready to tear down every brick of the place until he found The Major. And in the process was apparently going to kill every one of the plutocrats who cowered in the massive house—along with their trophy wives and their pampered offspring. Loki seemed ready to make them all pay.
Sebeck watched a video feed even now when a group of bankers tried to escape to the airfield to board their private jet and resume their lives as if this never happened. But Loki’s distant razorbacks were shown forcing their Bentley off the road, dragging out the screaming occupants, and . . .
Sebeck closed the video inset in his HUD display. He’d seen enough death.
Hundreds of darknet members had gathered around the mansion to watch in dismay as Loki prepared his attack, while women and children held out surrender flags and pleaded for mercy.
Loki’s new booming, synthetic voice tore into the air. “Major! I’m going to kill you—and every man, woman, and child who’s hiding with you!”
The crowd booed, and Loki turned to face them, his voice truly booming now. “What can you do about it? None of this would have happened if not for me! I am the darknet!”
Ross and Philips arrived, apparently using D-Space coordinates to locate Sebeck and Price in the crowd.
Ross shouted over the noise of the razorbacks. “Sergeant! What is Loki doing?”
Sebeck pointed at Doctor Philips. “Jon, get her out of here! Loki’s killing every civilian he finds.”