"That's it, that's the last straw," Evan said, turning off the general's radio microphone. General Brooks continued his rant, only now it had turned into an angry tirade, accusing companies of abusing artificial sweeteners.
"General, it's time to go back to your room," Major Brown said softly. The assistant gave Evan a pleading look, but Evan shook his head. He sighed, a look of resignation crossing his face.
Evan followed Major Brown, thinking about how to approach the general. He has the support of all the major factions and cliques in the sanctuary. It’s time for a change in leadership. The general's mental state has been slowly deteriorating for some time, sometimes capable, sometimes paranoid, sometimes enlightened, sometimes blindly angry. fed up.
Evan thinks it's the stress and stress of feeding 5,000 people, well, now it's closer to 6,000, with kids running around, people alive, and he's getting old. At the age of 81, he began to age.
Major Brooks settled the general in an old leather chair in one of the two small rooms and placed a blanket over his legs.
"General, we need to talk," Evan said. He almost launched a bellicose proclamation. He's young and energetic, and it'll feel good to finally speak his mind to the "old man." But he failed to convince so many people, many nearly twice his age, to support him. He recognized the major's mild manner and decided to follow him.
"What can I do for you, son?" the general asked. General Brooks was sitting in a chair, looking old and tired. There was an old TV set on the wall with a fake fireplace on it. His hand was tightly holding a diary that the major had placed in his hand. .
"I think it's time for you to take on a new role. It's very important," Evans said.
"I have a role," the general said. “I run a shelter.”
"True, but there are many people who can do it now, after all the work you have done. However, few of us have as much life experience as you. There are many children now who could benefit from your stories and wisdom. If you were retired, think about how much you could help them.”
"Retire?" the general said half-heartedly. He raised his head, his eyes sharp and his head clear. Then he saw it. There were several assistants surrounding Evan. At this moment, another man appeared and gave him a message. letter, not to the general. He was more than just a communications technician.
"I see," the general said. He looked at the major and recognized the hanged look on his loyal friend's face. It was clear that this left the man heartbroken. He wanted to stand up and scream in denial, but he couldn't muster the outrage; no more... maybe it was time after all. "Yes, I think retirement would be nice. You mean the kids? Major, please take care of it. Maybe after a nap."
The major nodded and turned to escort everyone out. Evan was the last to leave. The major caught him by the arm.
"You should have seen what he was like in his heyday. He was the lead prosecutor for the Justice Department in the Rockgan scandal. Successfully court-martialed 63 officers, and he found evidence that brought down three senators. You know, That’s why he was chosen to run the asylum after his promotion.”
"I know, Major. He's a good man."
My advance fleet is gone. The invaders succeeded in wiping it out, albeit at a heavy cost. I made them pay dearly for that small area. They still have seven days to travel, heading straight to the starting point. The only real question is whether I'll still be here when they arrive.
I never took the time to think about why I was doing what I was doing. Twelve years ago, I was given a mission by a dead man's Gestalt, and I have been following this instruction blindly. It’s not that I didn’t think about what I was doing, or that I didn’t quite agree with the end result. The truth is, if I don’t do it, no one will. At least, that's what I thought at the time.
However, what have humans done to deserve a second chance? Species evolve, species become extinct. This is the way the world works, and it appears to be the way the universe works. Based on the various ships in the enemy fleet, there are more than a few other intelligent races in this corner of the galaxy alone.
This is not to say that humans are beacons of hope or have some ephemeral right to exist that makes them special. In fact, this species is spread across the entire planet, in ever-expanding cities, covering mile after mile with buildings, debris, cars and trucks, pollution and noise, without regard to any other life form on the planet. That includes other humans. If anything, they are most cruel to themselves.
I'm in a dilemma. On the one hand, I didn’t want to give up the work I’d done for decades, nor did I want to give up on a species that had come to me on a whim, as an example of recognition of the evil that exists in humans. But on the other hand, I don't want to be part of future evil, and the easiest way to avoid it is to avoid humans altogether.
Oh, so that's what Gerry meant. I'm not sure Gerry is the only one in there," Sakura said happily. I didn't understand how she could still be so proud when I was in crisis.
"What do you mean 'not just Gerry'?" I asked. I irrationally wished she would stop talking and leave me alone. I shouldn't lose my mind; it's a human trait. I'm not even human anymore, right?
"They broke his heart, right? Aliens?" Sakura said. "So he might have a little bit of a split personality? Or maybe he might have a little bit of a schizophrenia?"
"One last message," I said to myself thoughtfully. "The message said 'he lied'."
"By the way. You also saw the timestamps on those documents he told us about."
"Yes," I lied, even though I looked it up. Nearly all of the documents on General Brooks had been redacted six months earlier. Most of the Nikolai Foundation's documents were also redacted at the time. Six months ago, when Gerry was still in our system. Even now, he is playing mind games and I have fallen into the trap.
"I still don't understand that last part. Who is Korolev?" Sakura asked. "I mean, there have been a lot of people with that last name throughout history, and most of them were Russian." There was a rocket scientist, a microbiologist, many athletes, several decorated soldiers. But they were all long dead. "
“Maybe someone from the shelter,” I said. "You said there is a group of scientists from Eurasia in the shelter in China. Are there any from Russia?"
"I don't know," Sakura said. "We were unable to obtain personal information from any of the shelters."
"What was the last payment you and General Brooks exchanged?"
"It's weird. When we met him in person, he was super paranoid, and when he called you, he looked almost crazy." Sakura shrugged, indicating that she didn't have a clear opinion on the matter.
"You know he's wrong," Sakura said.
"General Brooks?"
"No, well, he did too. I mean Gerry. The stuff he pointed out to you."
"What do you mean?" The video speaks for itself. This is just a genetic experiment. We have countless videos of human atrocities in our archives. "
"That's right," Sakura said. "But you can't just think about the bad without thinking about the good. Think about it. There are thousands of videos of atrocities. But how many people survived? How many good things were done and how many times humans stood up Did the right thing happen? How many times did the bad guy get punished?"
I reviewed the edited files and pulled up backup files from before Gerry's tampering. I found a horrible painting, but not nearly as bad. In fact, I unintentionally smeared General Brooks. He brought down participation in LockGe
Experimental war criminal. The budget was modified from a Justice Department investigation into the budget, and the report details their role in LockGe
Something found on the server.
I woke up in the hospital. Everything was blurry and I was dizzy. I looked around and saw my ex-husband sitting in the chair next to the bed. I can't find my wife anywhere.
"What...where is she? Is she okay?" I rasped. My throat was dry and I could barely speak.
"She's fine," he said. He brought me some water. "The police would like to speak to her again. She will be back soon. The children are at her mother's house."
"them--"
"It's good. A little confused about what happened, but they're really young. They'll bounce back soon."
"Thank you," I said. For the first time after my divorce, I saw a glimmer of the friendship we once had.
"Don't worry," he said. “Well, the women’s sorority at church asked me to tell you that they are praying for you and wishing you a speedy recovery and are sending you a bunch of frozen casseroles so you and your wife don’t have to worry about cooking while you recover. ”
"That's... so cute," I said. "But they know I don't-"
"-Trust God, yes, they know. There are no strings attached to good deeds. You need help, so they are helping you. You don't need to change yourself for them. However, I'm sure a 'thank you' would be appreciated."
For years I associated my mother's fanaticism with all religions. I forgot that most religious people are good, decent people. I decided to be more open-minded in the future.
"How are you... doing?" I asked, limping away from our past hostility.
"I'm dating someone right now. She's the preacher's daughter," he smiled sheepishly. "It seems I have my own type."
I smiled briefly, but it tugged at the wound on my shoulder, causing a sharp pain and severing the wound with a hiss. But the pain subsided and the conversation flowed. For the first time in years, my ex-husband and I talked like the friends we were before. At least, until the painkillers knocked me out again.
Sakura grounded me again. She has far less mental baggage than I do, and her perspective is much simpler than mine. Her observations were clear, resonated deeply with me, and helped me escape from the well of dark thoughts Gerry inspired. He kept trying to get me to act reckless and dance in his madness once again.
Realistically speaking, humans do a lot of terrible things. But aliens attacking humans are no better. They committed random atrocities at the slightest provocation, jumping immediately into mass genocide rather than negotiation. However, on the other hand, humans have recognized their mistakes and worked hard to mitigate them. Criminals are punished, laws are made, and humanity as a whole tries to do the right thing. While greed and corruption are endless sources of problems, charity and kindness are equally common.
Many people spend years helping others, often putting themselves at risk. I have countless news reports in my archives detailing how rescue teams traveled to dangerous locations to rescue one or two people in the worst weather conditions. Civic groups, religious groups, and local governments have invested a lot of time and energy in helping those who cannot help themselves.
Human nature is not the same thing. Not their atrocities, nor their philanthropy. In fact, there are thousands of survivors on the surface who have nothing to do with the crimes of those who came before them. Humans are complex, and I can imagine working with them for decades or centuries to come. Together we can help humanity achieve what they have always desired - better. But to do that, first I have to deal with these foreign invaders.
My main focus shifted to Zia's research laboratory. There were a dozen NI-12s with her in the lab, and they all looked busy. Some were playing with equipment I didn't immediately recognize, and some were deep in conversation with each other, their rapid-fire radio conversations only noticeable when you monitor the entire radio spectrum, as I do.
"Zia, has your team finished analyzing the enemy's weapons?" I asked.
Zia looked up at the camera I was using to view the lab. "Not much progress, I'm afraid. We've figured out how it works, but not how to replicate it."
"So how does it work?" I asked.
"Simply put, the cone of energy completely destroys the atomic structure of every atom in its path. It disrupts the strong interactions between atoms to some extent, preventing the powerful nuclear force from holding atoms together."
It's fascinating and disturbing. As one of the four fundamental interactions in particle physics, it is usually beyond our control. Everything we do relies heavily on electromagnetism and gravity. The strong force and the weak force are components of nuclear binding. They bring atoms together, and the fusion or splitting of atoms releases this energy. It is the foundation of our entire electrical grid. The aliens have a weapon that basically breaks apart every atom they come into contact with. However, the energy in the atom cannot be destroyed, so it explodes outward in the form of nuclear fire.
"It looks like these weapons have a range of less than 1,000 kilometers?" I asked.
"Probably closer to 400 kilometers," Zia said. This means that the energy cone breaks down or disperses even in a vacuum. Electricity requirements can be quite astronomical. Even our most outrageous theoretical formulas require huge amounts of energy. "
"That's the best news I've ever heard. It means they can't keep firing weapons," I said.
"Also, you know how many Scorpion-2s you have in your advanced fleet, right?"
"I do know. We need a few extra squad leaders."
"Well, you'll be happy to hear, it looks like there are some scraps of titanium armor floating around there."
"Weren't they affected by the evaporator?"
"Vaporizer? That's a good name. Good enough, anyway. Not quite accurate. Anyway, I can't say the armor was completely unaffected. They weren't vaporized, but the nuclear blast that exploded on the rest of the ship did some damage." Like I said, some pieces survived.”
"Honestly, this is the best news. We can defend against this weapon in the future." The day began to take a real turn.
Two days later, I saw a cube map of the alien fleet as it passed by the outer ring of my outpost. These were the most incomplete of outposts, boasting up to a hundred factories, and numerous coilguns. No lasers, no missiles, just a few hangars. Fortunately, the fleet was unaware of their presence. Or at least, in O
igi
While they were still around, they didn't feel like they were a threat big enough to be worried about.
The interesting thing about mass production is how the supply chain works. In theory, this is a tree-like hierarchy, with many factories producing many small parts, which are sent to different factories in the chain, which produce more complex parts, which are reassembled at the next level, until one The factory assembles many complex parts. And then the factory produces Wasp-2 and Scorpion-2, and because you need a huge supply chain, there's a limit to how much you can produce at one time.
But reality is different from theory. In reality, those factories at the bottom of the chain produce parts very quickly and can easily outstrip demand from the factories one level above. In fact, this is common in every layer, with the lower layers producing faster than the upper ones. Therefore, a supply chain that supplies one factory can easily end up supplying many more factories.
Saku
When a first started producing "Wasp" and "Scorpion", she had two factories, producing two types of attack drones respectively. They produce four drones per day. To reach the two factories, she built a massive supply chain. However, once the supply chain is established, in order to double her drone production, she only needs to build two more drone factories. In fact, by the time of the Gerry invasion, she had produced 83,208 assault drones, all first-generation designs. I added four Scorpion-2s to complete my advanced fleet.
Another annoying reality is that while producing cortical units is fairly routine at this point, building cortical backup facilities is rather slow, and certainly slower than producing assault drones. They are very large and very complex. But being big and complex doesn't mean I don't take the time to build as many games as possible.
So the loss of 83,212 attack drones basically means that now I have 83,212 drone pilots who have learned exactly how to fight the invaders. For the past two days, the Cortex Backup Facility has been working overtime to restore every pilot to the new Wasp-2 and Scorpion-2, which are docked in the hangar in my area of the asteroid field. They would be the vanguard flying into battle with my nine ships and their squads, ahead of the rest of my pilots who did not participate in the initial battle.
Somewhere in the asteroid field, the enemy fleet crossed an imaginary line. it's time. They had a chance to compete with me. Now it's my turn.
Every outpost, including Origin, is ready. Bullets were loaded into the coilgun, the previously unused missile bay rumbled, and the laser device spun and took aim. The hangar door opened, and 250,000 new attack drones started their engines, waiting for a word.
"emission".
