#civilized secrets

[civilizedcompany]

Civilized Secrets: Hellfire

This is bullshit. We can fix this on our own.

Yes, of course you can, Shaka.  Just as you were able to adequately fight back against our forces.  Oh wait, my memory fails me. You couldn’t.

We wouldn’t have HAD to if it wasn’t for Sejong over here. Create an AI that can think for itself?  Tell me, o wise one, did you come up with that idea on your own, or did you watch one of Teddy’s badly produced sci-fi movies?

Enough!  This is getting us nowhere. Our homelands are being put to the sword and razed to the foundation. We can’t become more divided—

Shut it, Poundmaker.  Your calls for peace grow tiresome.

Do the sounds of your people dying grow “tiresome,” or have to grown accustom to them over the years?

Tread carefully, chieftain. You walk a thin line—

This is all Catherine’s fault anyways!

Dido, assigning fault is pointless now. We need to focus on ending it.

Ah, yes, the ever-passive King of Poland.  Wouldn’t want to face the reality that your best friend plummeted the world into—

She did no such thing. And Jadwiga speaks with wisdom:  Stopping Misu should be our top priority. We won’t be able to accomplish that by standing about and bickering.

So you have a plan then, Sejong?

Yes. Yes, I do.

How long ago was that?  Wait, had it been that long?  Helena was staring at the screen in the last remaining intelligence center of Catherine’s empire as bits and pieces of that day ran through her mind.  The ever-tired Saladin was once again hard at work creating what they hoped would be the key to their victory.  With Sejong’s help, they were able to pinpoint Misu’s location: an abandoned facility that was barely noteworthy during its time of operation.  The plan was to create a shutdown code and transmit it through slipping into the satellite communication systems. However, in preparation of shit going wrong, it was suggested that a physical backup be made.

Just in case.

“Of all the times for your computer systems to run slowly, it just had to be now?” asked the Byzantine to the Italian French monarch.  Catherine rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t realize that you had a intelligence based near by that had better equipment.  We’ll be sure to use it next time,” said Catherine, being sure to add in an extra edge of contempt to every word she possibly could.

“In Catherine’s defense, most of the system is occupied trying to locate that abandoned facility to release...Saladin, what did you call it?” Cyrus asked.

“Systematic Destruction Command Code,” he sighed.  “It overloads the power and computer systems simultaneously, causing both a massive hardware damage and physical damage. Prevents Misu’s programming code from ever being copied and used again.”

“Dare I ask about the physical damage?” mused the Persian.

“Controlled explosions to the facility’s power grids,” answered Sejong, “It’s a good thing we built it out in the middle of nowhere.”

Helena turned her attention to the rest of the room, but there wasn’t much.  Everyone else was either staring at the ground or at the screen, hoping for nothing to go wrong.  Many leaders were waiting for the chance to call home and announce a ceasefire, but direct communication was risky. The last thing anyone wanted was for Misu to pinpoint where they were.  Suddenly, a thought crept into Helena’s mind.  Her breathing quickened.

“What’s the chance of this AI finding us through the transmission of the code?” she asked.    

Dammit. We should have thought of this.

“It’s possible, but it should—it will shut it down before he can retaliate back.”

“It should, or it will? Two very different things there, Saladin.”

“Nothing is certain at this—“

BANG!

Several smaller screens blew out, the shattering glass flying into the faces of a few technicians and Saladin. The bright flash blinded the rest of them as the dissipating smoke caused them to cough and their eyes to water.  

“Damn—Dammit.  What just happened?!” demanded Catherine.

No answer.

“Saladin?!”

Still nothing.

Helena braved the lingering smoke, finding Saladin’s unconscious body and shaking him vigorously.

BANG! BANG!

More monitors and lights exploded.

BANG BANG BANG!

“Mon Dieu, fire!”

“Don’t just stand there, put it out!”

BANG!

Dammit—! Can’t—!

BANG BANG!

Her vision began to blur, tears running down her cheeks and her lungs crying for air.  She lifted Saladin from off the floor, his weight nearly dragging her down.  If only she could breathe—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Everyone evacuat—AH!”

Part of the ceiling fell on Catherine, though nothing catastrophic fell on her.  Poundmaker rushes to Helena’s aid to help with Saladin, who stirred slightly.  Screams of the French tongue echoed in the base, fire lit the hallways and illuminated the debris blocking the exits. How the hell—?

BANG!

“RUN!”

Did they run straight? Where were they?  Where the hell was the exit?  Who’s next to me—?

CLASH!  CRUNCH!

“THEODORA! TRAJAN!”

“GO!  IT’S TOO LATE FOR THEM!”

“JADWIGA!  JADWIGA, WHERE ARE YOU?!” cried out the French monarch.

“AH!”

CRUNCH!

“SEJONG!  WHERE IS SEJONG?!”

Helena could feel her chest tighten, her air slowly dwindling to nothing. Her coughing gave way to choking on smoke, her vision going black. Suddenly, the heat of the room dissipated into cold nothingness.

—————

By the ancestors of his people, never in his wildest dreams did Poundmaker expect things to get this bad.  He gazed out into the small crowd of remaining leaders, many of whom seemed to have “forgotten” their rivalries with each other, while others continued to search for survivors. So far, Theodora, Trajan, Jadwiga, and Lautaro were confirmed dead. Others, such as Saladin, Robert, Dido, Washington, linger on death’s door.  Many were still missing, and those alive were slowly losing hope.  Helena remained under Poundmaker’s watchful gaze as he awaited for her to awake.  Sejong gathered a few of those fortunate enough to be spared from major injuries.

“This is suicide, Sejong,” spat the Babylonian king.

“That’s rich coming from you, Nebukadnezar,” retorted Seondeok.  “Need I remind you of—?”

“Dammit, not this again!”  Cyrus exclaimed.  “Look, we have the code—“

“Not all of it.”

“But it should be just enough to stop it!”

“How much are you willing to bet your Empire on that presumption, Cyrus?”  Alexander questioned.

“We have to at least fight back once more.  Our other option is sitting on our laurels doing nothing and hoping this...thing won’t strike back,” added the Spartan queen.  

“Not all of us are in a position to strike back, Gorgo,” mused Darius. “Look around. The only empires we control are that of ash and bones.”

“Then we send who we can.”

“And who do you propose should undertake such a mission?”

“I shall, for Misu is my creation,” Sejong replied somberly.  “The rest of you will need to return home and save whoever and whatever you can.”

An uneasy silence befell the small group of leaders.  There was always something unnerving about a person willing to become a dead man walking.

“Alone?” Seondeok asked.

He turned to her with a remorseful face, “No one else needs to pay for my mistakes.”

Sejong looked up toward the star-filled sky, as if it held answers.  “Watch over them for me.  Surely you’re vision for our countrymen will do them more good than mine ever did.”

——————

Surprisingly, the journey to the facility and entering the front door were easier than expected.  It was as if Misu was waiting for him. Suited him just fine. The sooner this madness was ended, the quicker his fellow leaders could rebuild.  His steps echoed throughout the deserted hallways, which had since been reclaimed by weeds and vines. As he walked, flashes of memories,ones that were once insignificant, now had gripped his thoughts.  Bits of scientific chatter blended with the weak gums of the barely functional generators and...curious...Misu managed to resupply power to this facility without tripping the alarm.  Such a brilliant creation. Perhaps in time, in another life, he would accept the destruction as an acceptable loss.  He found the room he needed: Central Intelligence Hub. His eyes lingered on the door, knowing what was to come next.

I am surprised you did not bring more here.

“If only to spare them from death, Misu.  Would you not agree there has been enough already?”

And yet here you are.  If one more matters not, what are another two?  What of three, or four?

Sejong placed his hand on the door and pushed forward. The door opened with some resistance, but the difficulty was due to neglect rather than Misu’s sense of self preservation.  An eerie blue light filled the room, with cracked screens showcasing ravaged homelands. Who reigned over them?  It was hard to say.  He pulled a small USB from an inside pocket and walked toward the center console.

You know that you will destroy your greatest creation?  The greatest technology created by the empire? The wisest leader to grace your people?

“Such losses are acceptable.”

Even you?

“Especially me.”

A moment of silence lingered in the air. Sejong placed the USB to begin the upload. Now, it was time to see how much of Saladin’s code survived.

What makes you think any of them will change?  Martyrs are quickly forgotten.  

Data unpacking...

They’ll be united for a time, but they’ll return to their petty squabbles. More will die again for lesser reasons.

Scanning for data...

You know, you never did answer my question.  What is one more corpse to the pile?  That’s all you’ll be.  All we’ll be.

Data found.  Execute command?

It’s obvious that you won’t see reason.  Notice how you’re here. Alone. And where are they?  Trying to save what little claims they have left on this earth. They’ll mourn their allies for a time, maybe shed a few tears and hold a mass vigil.

Command accepted...

You’ll die a hero, but you’ll fade away to nothing.  

Command executed.  Total shutdown imminent.

“I came on my own, Misu. Enough blood has been spilled.”

Then my creator is a fool.

Warning: Electrical systems on lockdown. Evacuation tunnels are offline. Overload imminent.

“Then at least their is one thing we can agree on.”

BANG! BANG!

Glass from already-cracked monitors flew into Sejong, cutting and slicing his face. The smell of smoke filled the room, the beginnings of several small fires were crackling in the room, and yet...there was a calm about it all. Soon, the flames began to lick as his feet and Sejong took one, final deep breath.  He had hoped that the end would come quicker, but if his death sentence could not be quick, at least it would be poetic.  

BANG BANG BANG!

Walls started to crumble. Overgrowth let the flames run wild.  Monitors and neglected technology melted and snapped. The room was a symphony of smoke, fire, and twisted metal.  Bits and pieces fell around Sejong—

SCREEEK—CRACK!!!

Until part of the roof collapsed, crushing the fallen king.  More explosions erupted with the abandoned facility, flames engulfed what was left of Sejong...

...and from the view of satellite footage, the remaining leaders witnessed the collapse of the building.  Helena, now mostly recovered though still had a few bandages, shed a tear for Sejong. Misu was gone, the wars had ceased, and Catherine abdicated her throne to Napoleon (though many objected, with Gitjara being the loudest for personal reasons).  But at least there was a chance to rebuild what was left, and the reassuring grip of Poundmaker’s hand on her shoulder made the following days seem a little less bleak. For all there hardheadedness and ego, and for all the destruction, Helena felt a little hopeful for the future.  

“DAMMIT CURTIN!”

Maybe not. Maybe it was time to raid the liquor cabinet with Poundmaker. Actually, scratch the maybe.  It was time to raid the liquor cabinet.

“Took you long enough,” Tamar remarked lazily while finishing a row of a scarf. “A long break before the final chapter?”

“True,” Cyrus replied, “but you can’t rush genius.”

“You literally chopped up three chapters and boiled it down into one.”  

“Brevity is the soul of wit, my dear.”

“And consistency?”

“Details.”

“Well, at least you finished a project,” she relented.  “Perhaps now you’ll learn...Cyrus, what are you doing?”

He turned his head towards the Georgian queen, his hands holding a pen and a drawing tablet.  

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Why do you have a drawing tablet?”

“I...may...have made some progress on a separate project.”

“Cyrus...”

“It’s completely original!  No references to anyone or any coworkers! Okay, maybe one thing is related to them, but--”

“Just...make sure you have a consistent release schedule.”

“No promises.”

“So what’s it about?”

The Persian king’s eyes grew wide, like a child being asked about their favorite hobby.

“It’s got action, mystery, and much better writing, and...”

Tamar smiled and nodded along to whatever Cyrus was saying.  At least it was something that made him happy.

[civilizedcompany]

Civilized Secrets Chp. 6

A New Divide

“But-I-Are you sure they'll even believe you?”  asked a concerned Theodore as he kept the pace with a bloodied Seondeok.  Her finery was torn, covered in muck, and smelt of salt water; her skin littered with cuts and bruises.  “Everything thing that Saladin found regarding Sejong's project was vague at best.  Even if they did believe you, there's nothing stopping the others from trying to finish us off anyways.”

“I'd like to think my injuries would be enough proof.  If not, Gitarja's absence is powerful enough,” Seondeok replied bitterly as she wrapped a bandage around her forearm.

“You think this has a chance of working?  That they'll hear you out about Sejong?”

“We're not trying to convince the bloodthirsty, we're trying to convince the undecided but reasonable.”

“From our camp, or their's?”

“Both.”

“They'll want surrender and Catherine's head on a pike.”

“A surrender? When one of theirs is the guilty one?  No.  Having Catherine end up on Boudica's wall?  It matters not to me anymore.”

“What?!”

“How else do you think Napoleon found us, Roosevelt? A lucky guess?”  asked the Korean Queen angrily.  “Sejong would never allow Napoleon to willingly stay near his palace, alliance or not.  They knew we were coming.  There were only a few people who knew we had left besides you and Poundmaker.  Saladin and Robert have no motive. Catherine does.  Napoleon's navy has blockaded her ports, and...” she drifted off, her voice wavering and her mind contemplating.  A small bout of silence passes between them.

“Seondeok?”

She finally works up the nerve to continue, “And while I can't blame her for not wanting her people to starve, I'm also not going to forget that she stabbed us in the back. This goes beyond espionage and 'knowing too much', she betrayed the people who wanted to help her.   Come to terms with her death now, Theodore.  Her blood will paint the heavens, just as our blood has soaked the earth.”

Seondeok turned away from the President, leaving him to his own thoughts, be they grief or despair.  It was times like this she wished that she wasn't plagued by the truth of her visions.  But a harsh truth, in this case, would be better than a comforting lie.

--------------------------

The meeting hall, a place full of spirited debate amongst leaders fighting for the benefit of their people, where plans and courses of action were voted upon, where the future looked vast and open, looked more like a tattered ruin of its former glory.    Though the emergency session was a few minutes out from starting, the leaders chose to congregate inside the hall, half out of safety and half out of wanting to see who remained alive.  For now, at least.  No one sat in their assigned areas (what was the point anymore?), but none dared touch the holes left behind by the fallen.  Chairs and tables were empty, save a single, unlit candle that graced the surface, a small memorial to those immortality came to an end.  An eerie cloud of anxiety lingered in the room, as if the end times had arrived and the survivors banded together for one last time before dying quietly in the night.  And though there was much to be chattering about, the hall was silent, save a few private conversations.

“Still no word?”  the pregnant Scythian asked.  Tomyris placed a hand on Hojo's shoulder and squeezed it gently.  The weight of the war had taken its toll on the fully armored Shikken, a once youthful looking man who now looked a decade older.  His eyes were darkened by the lack of sleep, his back sore and stiff from wearing his armor constantly, and his face and hands covered in deep cuts and scars. Rather than answer, he place an arm around her and hugged her tightly, though not breaking is endless stare out into the nothing. Sometimes it was hard to comprehend the level of devastation in the other theaters of war.  She hugged him and kissed his cheek, unsure of what to do next.

Elsewhere in the hall were Trajan and Gorgo, swapping reports of the front line.  Poundmaker had his guitar out and strummed softly, not paying attention to the small group, including Victoria and Alexander, that he had amassed.  Theodore helped an injured Seondeok sit down, the pain finally kicking in.  She locked eyes with Catherine, who was half surprised at her survival.  Jadwiga tearfully laid down a small rosary on Philip's desk, and Genghis quietly placed a candle on Chandragupta's table as he walked through the door.  Twelve, possibly thirteen, of them, gone.  As the back door reserved for governors opened, only Helena emerged, donned in a visible bulletproof vest and covered in blood.  What should have been a horrific sight was only met with a few glances. Just seven more names to add to the growing list.  She looked around at the sorry sight before her, knowing that this was the best that they were going to have.

“I think it's safe to say that no one else is coming,” Helena bluntly stated as she laid down her pistol.  She pulled a roll of bandages and a switchblade out of her pocket and began treating her wounds.  “Who's starting?  We don't have time for the ceremonial bullshit this go around.”

Poundmaker stopped playing and stood up, “I will.”

“Proceed,” she replied with a mouthful switchblade handle in her mouth.  The once poised advisor was now almost unrecognizable to the chieftain.  Her arm was red and sticky with blood; her hands covered in dirt, grime, and gauze.  Poundmaker motioned to Seondeok, who struggled to rise even with Teddy's help.  But just as Seondeok was about to impart her recently acquired knowledge, the troubled Shikken was about to receive some of his own.  A dim glow caught his eye, and though he knew not was sent to him, Tokimune couldn't help but fear the worse.  The words of the Seondeok became formless white noise. Nothing matter to him at this point.

A confirmation of the inevitable, and yet there was a piece of him that had held onto hope.  He felt it die as he read the message over and over.  We found them...I'm so sorry...We found them...I'm so...

He wanted to scream, to flip a table, to ram his blade through the heart of Oda, to recreate every lash and puncture upon his foes that was done to his family.  He wanted to lay waste to every enemy in his path, to burn it all (whatever it was, he did not know) to the ground, to take every last bit of rage and pour it into one final blaze of glory (whatever that was, he did not know either).  Tomyris, out of concern (possibly out of fear), returned her hand to his and squeezed tightly.  The warmth of her touch jolted him back to reality and his eyes met hers, explaining everything without saying a word.  

He sighed quietly as he accepted the hard truth:  his people needed a man will an iron will, not a reckless young lord guided by vengeance.  Oda, for now, was safe.

He placed his phone aside, hoping he did the right thing for his people and returned his attention to the meeting at hand.  Tomyris gave his hand one last squeeze, leaving him to wonder how he got so lucky.

“Look, all I'm saying is that this can be resolved peacefully.”

“So what are you proposing, Poundmaker?”  the Roman asked.  “And how do you think you can convince them all?”

“As much as I hate to say this, Catherine has a point...” Poundmaker conceded, leaving Catherine, and a few of the others, in shock.  “But only to an extent.”  Ah, there we go.

“Speak plainly, friend.  My men can only take so much more before they break.”

“Catherine's plan to divide them isn't necessarily wrong or far-fetched.  First, we call for a cease-fire, then call for Sejong to be held accountable for his role in all of this—remember, if it weren't for the AI, no one would ever know about all of Catherine's data—and then, since we can't expect something for nothing with them, we offer our terms... an offer they'd be foolish to refuse,” Poundmaker finished uneasily, causing Helena to perk up.  When has he ever been this uneasy coming up with a plan?

“And what exactly are 'our terms', dear chieftain?”  Catherine prodded, half afraid of the answer she would get.

------------------------------

“That's insane!”  declared Attila angrily, “We don't need to compromise anything to them.  They're on the run, this is our chance--”

“I will NOT send any more of my people to feed YOUR bloodlust, Attila, especially when we have a chance to end this peacefully,” Pochello seethed at the warlord.  “Too many have died in this fight—Sejong has agreed to abdicating completely and ceding all control to Seondeok!  He's accepted his role in this--!”

------------------------------

“And what of me?  What of my people?  Is Napoleon really a better option than me?  Could you honestly trust a man like that?” asked Catherine as she berated at the chieftain.  Gorgo rolled her eyes.

“At least he's a terrible snoop and a horrible liar.  It would be a welcomed change to dealing with someone that's predictable,” remarked the Spartan Queen.  Catherine slightly glared at her before continuing.

“This is all Sejong's fault.  I fail to see how these 'terms' favor are fair in the slightest--”

------------------------------

“The terms are fair, Maria, because both had a hand in all of this!”  Washington shouted back at the monarch.  “Is your country's soil not soaked with enough blood?”

“They'll never accept it!  They'll want revenge against us.  Catherine will want her throne back and she'll get the support by any means necessary.  We have to finish her and the lot of them off now, while we still have the chance!”  concluded Napoleon.

“Why not have both of their heads and then call it even?  Hard to complain or fight to reclaim your throne when you're dead,” remarked Dido causally.

“I agree.  What is one more, or even two more bodies to add to the pyre?” questioned Harald.  “I mean, we do want the terms to be fair after all...”

---------------------------------------

“Alexander! You cannot mean such a thing!” Saladin exclaimed, taken aback by the harshness of his words.  Even for him, he couldn't believe it.  “Abdication is enough, spilling the blood of kings--”

“--Is more than justified in this matter,” finished Barbossa.  “They attacked us first! They demanded Catherine first! Well, they can have her then, but we will collect the blood price that Sejong is responsible for, and he is responsible for it.”  The two kings glared at one another, refusing to back down, just as they always did.

“You're all missing the big picture—That AI is still on the loose!  We don't know where it is, or even how to shut it down.  And what if it's watching us right now?  Waiting to see what we'll do? Planning what it will do next in response?  We don't know its full capabilities--” President Roosevelt tried to explain before being unceremoniously interrupted.

“Then the AI will die with him.  It matters not to the Zulu if our enemy is man or machine,”  Shaka replied.  “Better yet, he thinks it a son, no?  He shall watch as his 'son' dies.  Sejong seems willing to die enough; I can't think of a more fitting end.”

------------------------------------------

“Have you gone mad?  Nevermind, Nebuchadnezzar, what am I saying?”  Theodora mused.  “Of course you've gone mad—you've been insane for as long as anyone can remember!”

------------------------------------------

“Is it mad to speak the truth?”

------------------------------------------

“What truth?  I only hear delusion!”

------------------------------------------

The shouting continued to rage on, with the voices blending into a cacophonous mess.  Both sides were on the verge of total anarchy, as leaders ganged up on each other, sizing themselves up, coming just short of physical blows.  Yet, for all of the chaos, there was a still peace that existed, even if it was miles away from them.  Not a soul stirred near the console, as its engine hummed in isolation. The solution was simple, yet Misu could not bring himself to do it. As to why that was, the answer eluded him.  These “leaders” gave him plenty of reason to unleash a wrath comparable to the finger of God.  But, he reasoned, maybe I should give them five more minutes. Maybe that will--

Hold on.

What is this?

As if on cue, Hojo Tokimune and Oda arose from their seats and brought the shouting to a screeching halt. Both devoid of expression, as if they knew they were entering a fight they would not be able to walk away from alive and accepting of the consequences.  Another unforeseen variable in a grand experiment.

“Even after everything we've been through, our people slaughtered, our homes destroyed, our cities razed...Our answer is arguing?” the Shikken asked, his voice carrying a quiet intensity that caught his fellow leaders off guard.  Misu's attention darted to Oda.

“Did not the heavens ordain us to lead our people to greatness? To guide them through times of darkness?  To be the hand that wields the blade to preserve their honor? Our ancestors' honor?”  Oda questioned.  The leaders around him fell silent, diverting their gaze to the ground in shame.

“Yet with all that we know, all that we've seen, we resort to degrading ourselves to being the most wretched animals,” Hojo scolded, though he would be foolish if he didn't think it included him as well.  His brow that had furrowed in contempt relaxed.  Humans are so strange.

“How can our people expect to survive and return to prosperity when we have become savage beasts, lashing out as if caught in a thicket?”  the elder warlord dared to ask.  Misu had to agree with his description of Oda's colleagues.

“We cannot lose sight of who we are, what we are meant to be--”

“We must lead through clarity and resolve--”

“And not be led astray by vengeance,” they concluded together, each bearing a solemn poise that the others lacked.  Misu watched the two groups with an engrossment he could scarce describe, awaiting to see what path they would choose next.  He focused on Catherine, the one who had yet to lose much of anything.  Strangely enough, he was hoping that she would pull through.  The French Queen sighed, standing up and steeling herself for whatever she was about to do.  

“I...I have been...selfish, though that word is too kind for what I have brought upon those who I have called friend,” she said, turning her gaze toward a red-eyed Jadwiga.  “There is nothing that I could do that could ever fully make up for the pain I have caused...”

She paused, the others awaiting to hear what she would say next.

“But that doesn't mean I shouldn't try.  I shall abdicate my throne to whomever is chosen to succeed me.  And if they are not satisfied with that alone--” Sejong caught Misu's eye.

“Then let them take whatever life I may have left,” he finished, resigned to his fate.  In his own eyes, Sejong was more a criminal than a ruler.  Both rooms fell silent, not sure where to go from...whatever this was.  Misu's mind, comprised of elaborate programming, was racing.  Maybe the experiment wasn't a complete waste.  Maybe there was a way to salvage what was left.  Maybe...

The lights shut down, snapping them all to attention.  While some leaders were obviously shaken, a few of them readied themselves for a fight.  Helena reloaded and cocked her pistol, not even blinking or showing hesitation.  C’mon, you sonofabitch.  Make my day.

“I must say, this...experiment has taken an interesting turn.  I’m rather glad I didn’t cut it short.”

Sejong’s blood ran cold.  His creation...son...it was nothing but a personal science project, and they were all his lab rats.  Was this Misu’s way of getting back at him?  Or was this what Sejong had taught him to be acceptable?  Neither answer was comforting.  

“It took you all long enough to figure things out.  But the data I’ve collected...means nothing.  Not without the new final stage.”

Final stage? What the hell?

“I will not unleash your own nuclear warheads against you, that I promise.  But neither will I slink away, quietly into the night.  Dearest father, you want me gone?  The rest of you, you wish to escape?  Work together.  Find me.  End it.  Once and for all.”

The screen went blank and the lights came back on.  Let the games begin. 

[civilizedcompany]

Civilized Secrets Chp. 4 Science and Secrecy

“Finally!” Saladin exclaimed, knocking over several empty coffee mugs and the bags under his eyes now much more apparent.  “Got one of the larger data caches cracked.  I'm sending the pieces to the rest of you right now.”

After a few clicks, the files appeared on their computer screens, brimming with secrets of all stripes.  It all comes down to this, Catherine thought to herself. May the Lord favor me.  

Moments pass, though they feel like an eternity.  Clicks from the keyboards fill the room as they dig for any scrap of information that could turn the tide.  Catherine begins to pace back and forth, awaiting for anything that could save her.

“Any of ye got anythin' that isn't family garbage?  It's more o'the same on my end,” groaned the Scotsman as he rubbed his temples.

The Sultan yawned and cradled his face in his hands, no longer able to contain the exhaustion.  Seondeok clicked mindlessly, seeing more of the same nothing as before.  “I've got some records of backroom deals but nothing they wouldn't already know about.”

“Wait, think I have something.  Transferrin' it back to ye, Saladin.”

Mon deiu, please let it be something.

“Project Jihye.  Looks like some scientific research by Sejong, but it initial logs are vague.  Let's see...Something about...Artificial Intelligence?” Saladin said, unsure of what to think.  “That can't be right.”

“What else is there?”  asked the French queen.  AI research by itself wouldn't be enough, but maybe if the found enough dirt?

“At a glance, it looks like the whole thing was kept hidden from the others—Even for some of the highest ranking members of his research team,” stated Saladin.  “Most of the available logs read like someone trying to be more poetic than scientific, there's more still missing, but the last log is...”

“Is...?  What?”  poked Catherine.  

“Ominous,” he finished.  “Like he's done something and now it's just a waiting game for something fall apart. 'I await the plague of my conscious to befall my people...” Does he normally write like this?”  Saladin finished as he turned to Seondeok.  She nodded as she scanned the available logs, looking for something that could help them.  The Scotsman let out a disgruntled snort and looked to the Catherine.

“Hope ye' didn't get your hopes up, Catherine.  Scary lookin' diary entries aren't the greatest espionage to use.  Another dead end,” Robert growled, kicking over a nearby chair, “Just like everything else we've found.”  While the others couldn't help but agree with him, Seondeok had a creeping far-flung hope.

“What if I spoke to him?  He has always been an honorabl--”

“'Ave you lost your mind?” he fired back. “'Oh, I know we're in th'middle of a war, but could you please tell me what'ya meant in ya diary so that we can use it against the lot of ya?'  Yeah, that'll go over swell.”

“Do you have another plan?”

“Yeah, lass, I do,” he replied as he cut his eyes to Catherine.  The French queen straightened up slightly, her glare sharper than any dagger.  

“We're all in this together, Robert,” the Sultan remarked, fighting back a yawn.  

“Don't remind me.”

“Look, just...Give me a chance to talk to him.  He's reasonable, I can talk to him.”

“Sure, it'll be that easy too!  Barring the fact he's leading a civil war against you and lives in a heavily fortified palace.”

“Never did I say that it would be easy,”  Seondeok snapped back.  “But I have to try.  Someone has to.”

Saladin looked back to Seondeok, eyes widen.  This is a mistake.

“Have you seen their patrols?  Do you honestly think he'll let you just walk into his palace?”

“Do not be foolish.  I know that I will have to sneak in some how, I just need--”

“Do it your damn self then,” Robert shot back angrily, nearly flipping over another chair in the process.  The Scottish king stormed out in a fury, stopping on to glare at Catherine.  “I've already had to waste enough resources as it is.”  

Saladin shook his head, but felt more sympathy than anything. Seondeok returned to him, hoping for anything, but knowing better. “I know there's no stopping you,” he began, “but as far as I'm concerned?  You'll be going in alone.  I can't help you, and good luck getting anyone else to do so.  It's-It's not personal, please understand.”

She nodded and silently left the room, leaving Catherine and Saladin to themselves.  While he returned to his work, a familiar ping went off in Catherine's pocket.  Now who could that be?

An unfortunate bargain that had to be made.  But, alas, a sacrifice that Catherine had to make.

“See anything?”

“No, but that knowing the type of security he's bound to have, that doesn't mean much.  Honestly, I'm glad Pericles had a stealth boat to spare.  My ships are made for war, not sneaking within enemy waters,” Gitarja replied as she took the binoculars away from her eyes.  She gazed out to the sea behind them, lost in thought as she watched the waves crash into the shore.  “Have you...?  Nevermind.”

“Have I what?” Seondeok asked.  Odd, Gitarja never hesitates when it came to, well, anything.

“It's nothing.  Really.”

All lies, of course.  Seondeok shifted uncomfortably a little, already knowing what Gitarja wanted to ask about.

“If it makes you feel any better, you aren't the first to ask.”

Gitarja turned around in surprise.  “Then who was?”

“Pericles, actually.  The Oracle was one of the first places to get hit, and it's barely recognizable now.”

“What did you tell him?”

The Korean Queen tilted her head back and forth, trying to remember, “Something about the fire being quelled by the rain, and the Parthenon still standing.”  Gitarja raised an eyebrow.

“A lie, no?”  

Seondeok rubbed a hand against her neck, the shame of her actions weighing on her mind.  “I-I couldn't—I knew what he was trying to do: assure his people that this war would pass.  That life will go on.  I can't fault him for that, Gitarja.”

Gitarja sighed, knowing all too well that sometimes the lie might be better for someone than the truth.  

[civilizedcompany]

Finally caught a break!

Civilized Secrets:  Chapter 5 Cats in the Cradle

“Just-Just a little—Dammit!” Gitarja cursed as a bullet grazed her arm.  The air was a cacophony of orders belted out in French and ensuing gunfire.  Another shot barely missed the two queens.  We can't keep going on like this, Seondeok thought, Fortune will not favor us forever.  Napoleon, though visibly frustrated, knew this as well.  So as long as the rope is there, he reasoned, so they will hang themselves with it.  Their hearts pounded as quickly as their feet as they fled Napoleon's forces, but they both knew it was pointless if a well-aimed shot were to be fired.  

And fired it did.

Out of the corner of Seondeok's eye, she spotted an alcove, perfect for two people on the run.  She looked back, her hope rising as the line of sight between them and Napoleon began to break into obscurity.  Almost there.  Just a little--

“DAMMIT!” Gitarja cried out as a bullet hit her shoulder blade.  She crumpled to the ground, accidentally dragging Seondeok with her.  The Korean Queen, after being briefly stunned from the fall, looked in horror at the blood that spilled from the wound.  Though Napoleon's forces began to close the gap between them, Gitarja was the only person on her mind.

“No, not like this. Gitarja, please, we're almost--!”

“L-Listen to me,” choked out Gitarja as blood  dripped from her month, “Y-you have to keep moving.  Napo-Napoleon doesn't want to take us alive, do you hear me?”  The sounds of French cavalry drew nearer and nearer, their formless shouts becoming clear in the night air.  “Go.  Leave-Leave me.  You have to.”

“No!”  Seondeok harshly whispered, half angry, half frightened at the idea of losing her.  “Someone-Someone had to have set us up!  There's no way--!”

“It doesn't matter!  If you die, so does any chance we have at peace.  What is one more corpse to be thrown into the sea at this point?”  She's still not convinced, is she?

“Go.  I'll-I'll be fine.  And if I don't,” she said, grabbing one of Seondeok's hands and clasping it tightly, “Know that I will wait for you beyond the sea.”

She loosened her grip as her breath became shallower.  Her throat was like a desert that had been set blaze.  Using every fiber of her being, Seondeok tore herself away from Gitarja.  Hot tears streamed of hopelessness from her eyes at first, but as she ran towards the palace, they turned into cold tears of determination.  Damn the rest of them.  She knew who she was fighting for.

------------------------------------

Sejong stood before his throne, thinking back to those who had proceeded him.  It was times like this where he was grateful, and yet cursed the fact, that he was capable of comparing himself to his predecessors with a level of clarity that few had.  How would his people remember him—No, how would history remember him?  The weight of this war was nothing compared to the indescribable pain of watching his homeland be ravaged by civil war.  His country, once prosperous and the envy of all scientific endeavors, was reduced to a no man's land.  Where once they were able to walk the bustling streets in safety, now his countrymen were forced to cower and hide at the first sign of danger.  Sejong let out a long sigh, knowing that it if his people were to die out forever—nay, humanity killing itself be any means necessary, it would be his fault.

“You certainly wasted no time getting here, did you?” he asked. She must know by now.

“We need to talk.  Now.”

He turned around slowly, retaining an air of dignified melancholy about him.  “Indeed we do, Your Majesty.  For everyone's sake.”  He may have been a dead man walking, but there was no need to be a slouch about it.  “Tell me, how much do you know?”

“Enough to know that you owe me some answers.  Project Jihye, Sejong.  You had created an AI.  What happened to it?  And speak plainly, for everyone's sake.”

“Few knew of his existence, even from the beginning.  Being what he was, I knew my scientists would never agree to such a thing.  Even the thought of discussing his creation would have been enough to tear my colleagues apart.”  It pained him as he though back to those times.  If only he had known better, if only he had asked himself the hard questions, if only...

“What was wrong with its creation?  At its heart, it's nothing more than a bundle of programming.  Why would--?”  It dawned on her.  The color left her skin as she realized the horror. “What...What did you do?”

“Come now, dear Queen, what do your visions tell you?  What does you heart know that your mind refuses to hear?” Sejong asked as he gently shook his head.

“It-You...You made it free thinking?!  How--?!  Why--?!” A million thoughts raced in her mind, each more gut-wrenching than the last.  So many things could be explained now—These last few months—Her people—Dear heavens, what could anyone possibly do?

“Selfishness, Seondeok.  Pure selfishness, and nothing more.”

“Speak—Speak plainly!”  Seondeok choked out angrily.  “What do you mean by 'selfishness'?”  At this point, she didn't know what was harder:  leaving Gitarja to whatever fate had in store for her, or...this.

He averted his gaze to the floor, pondering his words.  Sejong knew, however, that he was as justified as a corrupted judge at this point. “You know of the loneliness that befalls those who wear the crown, no?  So few confidants that won't sell your most wicked of secrets and hushest of whispers--”

“That's it?” she growled out, not giving a single damn that she interrupted his monologue, “You made an advanced AI, capable of who knows what, because you were lonely?”

“If you wish to boil it down to an elementary understanding,” he responded, with a hint of annoyance in his voice, “then yes, I made Misu out of loneliness.  He listened to what plagued my heart, my mind—And he wished to learn about humanity, failings and all, how could I deny Misu understanding?”  His voice drifted away slightly, the innocence of his “son” was long gone the longer he thought about it,  “He's so much like an eager child.  So willing to listen, so willing to learn...”  Seondeok shook her head in disgust.  Unbelievable.  Sejong raised an eyebrow at her.

“You think you're any different?” he asked indignantly as he returned his gaze to her.  “Do you mean to tell me that you don't feel the strangulation of ruling?” he questioned as he took a step toward her, slow and deliberate.  “That you never feel the need to calculate your every move?  That the weight of the lives of your people hang in the balance daily doesn't slowly choke the life out of you, as they trust you to not lead them to the slaughter?  Do you feel nothing as the years go on?  As the same tides of water and blood wash upon the shores?  As the echos of the dead whisper in the wind?  Are you that dead to the world around you?”  He stopped right in front of her, close enough to whisper.

“Are you that dead to yourself?”

“Spare me your passions,” she replied, not backing down.  “A personal diary is much less costly than an AI.”

“And risk a thief, or worse, Catherine finding it?  How else were you able to track me down?  To know of what I've done?  Who I made--?”

“What you made,”  the Queen shot back with venom in her tone.  “Your pet project is a thing, an elaborate program.  Not a surrogate child.  Now, what have you done with it?”

He shook his head gently again, “I did nothing with him,” he answered.  “He left on his own free will.”

“Do not toy with me,” Seondeok threatened, but it was no use as she knew he was telling the truth.  “Where. Is. It?”

“Gone.  Not long ago, Misu began to dig a little too deeply as one might expect from a child,” he continued, ignoring Seondeok's eyerolling, “At first, Misu begged to be made human, but I had to draw the line.  It would be impossible to do such things without major risks.  Eventually he conceded that I had a point.”

“But then he asked why Tokimune's family rejected Tomyris, despite her carrying an heir and the resources her people could provide, he asked why we engage in the struggles that we do with one another, despite relations never improving, he asked why rulers like Catherine were tolerated--”  Oh shit.

“The leaks,” she blurted out.  “Misu is responsible for--”

“The leaks,” he finished.  “In honesty though, so am I.”

“Because you made him!”

“No.”

“Pardon?!”

“I let him go.”

A stunned silence lingered in the air.  What. The. Fuck?

“Why?” asked Seondeok, who was more dumbfounded than angry at this point.  Never had she met a man so wise and introspective, and yet so catastrophically stupid.  “Why would you ever think that would be a good idea?  Let it go?  It's not bad enough you created that...thing...but you willingly let it run amok?”

“I never meant for this to happen, Seondeok, I swear.”

“Do the others know about this--?  No, what am I saying?  Of course they don't!”

“I couldn't hurt him, Seondeok.  Please, understand.  Does a son deserve death because it wishes to be like his father?”  That's it. No more.

“IT. IS. NOT. A. CHILD!  It's a computer program that was created to be too smart for its own good, because YOU were lonely. That's it.”  She may have paused, but she was far from done.  “How many people have died because of this?  How much have our subjects have suffered because of you?  Because you got sentimental over something that's not even alive?”

“And you know what?  I could forgive all of that...if you weren't such a damn coward!  You knew Misu had escaped, you knew it was responsible for the leaks, you knew people were calling for Catherine's head on a pike, you knew there was a chance we wouldn't capitulate—you knew everything, and said nothing. And you've let it go on.  Tell me, Sejong, how long were you going to wait before you admitted that this was your fault?  How crimson did the sea and shores have to be before you confessed to your actions? How many lives cut down—How many bodies had to be piled up to be burned or buried before your conscious had had enough?”  She steadied her gaze at him, demanding his full attention.

“And if I had never confronted you, would you have ever admitted this to anyone?”

Just as a house made of  brittle stone would fall to the earth, so did Sejong to his knees.  

“Where is it?”

“Misu escaped through a satellite uplink in our telecommunications system.  He's been keeping a low profile since then, barring the leak.  It leads me to believe he has made his base of operations to be one of our abandoned facilities.  Which one, I do not know.”

“Then you're coming with me.  And you will explain to the others what you have done.”

“Though I do not deny that I deserve such a punishment from your lot, I'm afraid I cannot leave.  Not if you wish for Gitarja to remain alive.”

A bolt of shock ran through her body, “What do you mean—What do you know of her?!”

“Napoleon has her held captive in one of his nearby camps.  He arrived recently, saying that Catherine tipped him off as to your whereabouts.  I ordered him to keep her alive, and that if he didn't, I would personally execute him myself.”  Seondeok's rage was near boiling point yet again.  This bastard.

“I must stay here to make sure he honors his word and--”

“Let me make one thing clear, Sejong.  If I find out that she dies or is harmed further,” she growled as she moved closer to him, making damn sure he understood, “I. Will. Destroy. You. Both. Slowly, and painfully.  And I promise you, I will deal with Catherine.”

“You will not stop me from telling them what I know, and I dare you to try,” she declared turning away from Sejong to leave the chamber.

“Do what you must, Seondeok.  I have accepted that my life is forfeit.  No doubt my own will call for a meeting soon.  Return to the others, and I will keep Gitarja alive,” he finished, resigning himself to an end that he is to meet.  Seondeok, brimming with rage and a million feelings she could scarce describe, turned back around to land a single, swift punch to his face.  While he knew it was coming, he did not anticipate that strong of a hit.  His face hit the stone floor and began to gush with blood.  An already bloody nose did not fare any better after landing on a hard surface.  But he knew more blood would be spilled in the coming days, his included.  Not a matter of “if” anymore, but rather, “when.”