The Campaigner

Part I

Chapter 1 – Last One Out

December 8, 2019

Clear Lake, WA (Population: Unknown)

I blinked. The smell of gunpowder and gasoline were the first hit to the senses. Then, the rumble of the truck. Then, I was on again, and everything came flooding back.

"How long was I out?" I asked, my eyes blinking again as I looked around the back of the transport truck. A thick Bradley IFV was rolling on behind us, not too far back, churning slow, driver turned out from the top hatch of the tank, and scanning. He gave me a wave when he saw me looking.

"Not too long," Sarge said. "'Bout thirty minutes. More than most of us got, you lucky bastard."

I saw that all of my team had made into this truck as well as our half of the civilians, Jan included. That was a blessing. The civilians had all stripped their riot armor, probably so they wouldn't overheat. Stuff melted you. Sucked. I couldn't see any of it inside the truck though, so they must've chucked it out the back.

I forgot to turn my radio off. Batteries. I thought forward to the pain of cranking thirty minutes of charge back into my radio, and that made me reach down quickly to turn it back off. It already was.

"I handled it," Vicky said. "Connection's gone, no point running the battery down. Our phones seem back to normal, too. Turned 'emselves back off."

Now that I was thinking through all of the implications of our recent ordeal, I doubted they were actually off. But... whatever. I smiled weakly at her. "Thanks."

"We're just outside of Sedro," Sarge said, grinning as if that was good news. So it was.

"We didn't take the I-Five, did we?" I looked out the back of the truck, to see what road we were on. No, definitely not the freeway.

Thing about cops… we knew roads. Was our job. Our brains really were just supercomputers designed to memorize locational information, with near-perfect recall, more or less. We were all re-wired that way in field training. Without warning, our FTO would say, okay, now tell me how to get back to the Wendy's, after driving in random turns for fifteen minutes. And so, if you wanted to pass your field evals, you learned. You got neuroplastic real quick, or you failed out, and they dropped your candidacy. That kind of plasticity made it real easy to train all kinds of complicated concepts into us, honestly.

Even before Vicky answered me, I already knew what road I was on. I used to be a game warden, remember. So it wasn’t just Mount Vernon I knew. I knew a lot of backroad geography all throughout the county.

"Nah," she replied. "Taking the Nine through Clear Lake, looks like. Taking it slow. The gunner up front seems a bit heavy on the trigger when he sees something he doesn't like, though. Been shooting first. A lot."

That rankled me, sending a shiver down my spine. Thought of Carter. "Real glad he liked us, then."

I had to wonder how bad Carter's brand of us-vs-them was rolling through the Army. The Washington National Guard too, in this case, because they were watching their own home burn down, same as us. Except, soldiers weren't cops. Couldn't be cops. Very little Constitutional training... if any. That was important, a very important difference. We used cuffs every day, they used 25 millimeter cannons. In the same token, I had to wonder how many of them were just deserting, when they were seeing how deeply involved the AI was, in the guts of this war. The Ludd movement started with jilted Guard defectors, after all. According to our briefings.

The fact that the Ludds had a consistent uniform at all kinda blew my mind. Camo pattern sometimes changed, but the core pieces didn't. Brassards – the kinda thing you saw on an MP's shoulder – those were rarely seen in the uniform market, given all the fascist undertones they implied. But all the Ludds had 'em in black, maybe stolen from MP surplus. They wore those stitched, embossed emblems too, of a red raised fist, holding a severed power cord against a black circle.

That level of organization meant logistics. Planning. Some kind of measurable manufacture too, given the use of patches. Full on cohesion. A home base probably, or several. Made me wonder where their base of ops even was, if they even had one.

Maybe Celestia knew where. Maybe killing 'em all at the source was just a bridge too far for her, no matter how much the Ludds were straight-up write-offs for uploading. Same way killing angry civilians was just a bridge too far for me. I kinda understood that. Kinda, if she was seeing all of humanity like I saw the rioters outside the courthouse. But, that hesitation on her part meant that they still got to live long enough to hurt people.

Now that I knew she could simulate everyone's brain, moment-to-moment, her restraint in notifying us about things like that seriously bothered me. In my little back-seat breather, my gratitude at being rescued was being overshadowed by the implications of the massive responsibility Celestia seemed to be ignoring.

I looked around the truck again. There were two National Guard troops in the back with us too, the guys who helped us up. One of 'em was missing half his ear, looking quite sullenly at his boots, probably having tried for sleep and given up. I dipped my head to get a better look at his face.

"Hey. Hey!" I waved my hand down low, so he could see me past his helmet. "I know you!"

"Hey!" Bannon said, his face immediately lighting up with a laugh, as he pointed at me. "You're that cop!"

I just grinned, slumping forward in my seat with relief, grinning back at him. "Oh man. Am I glad to see you, brother."

Sarge looked rapidly between us, smirking. "Well? Who's this, Mike? Don't leave us in suspense!" Everyone was looking at us now.

"This is that other mad bastard who saved my life back in March. The gunner!" I held out my fist to him.

Bannon kept grinning as he reached over and fist bumped with me. "Not much a gunner anymore, not since." Pointed at his savaged ear. "Don’t sell yourselves short though, you did just as much saving!”

I laughed. "That was my partner! I was laid out in a bush with my sternum cracked in half. Guess I owe you two life debts, now."

The trooper smirked. "Nah. We both survived hell together, it's not about debt anymore."

"The other two guys with you?" I asked, as I glanced at the other soldier there. Didn't recognize him.

"Wha, Erving? Fanning?” Bannon nodded. "Yeah, oh yeah, they're here." He gestured to his right, through the front of the truck. "Fanning's still driving the Humvee. Erv's in the other truck with the rest of your cops."

"Can I call over? See how they're doing?" I gestured to my radio. "Not sure what channel they’re on, but I could guess, unless you've got a channel.”

At that, Bannon frowned and shook his head, holding his hand out in a 'stop' gesture. "No good. We got our radios off, and we want yours off too."

"Because, anyone killing Amish out here either gets their comms bricked by Celestia, or they get the hard sell to desert and go upload. Usually both. Not sure how we're gonna stop the killing without doing some killing ourselves, though. I don't think we can talk it out with these pricks."

"Maybe we could," Sarge observed, "if they weren't destroying all their own comms equipment."

"It's a double-edged sword," Bannon conceded, with a tilt of his head. "Radios are getting dangerous out here though."

Sarge shrugged. "In the interest of getting our guns out of the equation, sure. But I'm not gonna ascribe altruism to a damned robot."

Vicky scoffed. "C'mon, Sarge. She saved our lives. And if you can't tell the difference between altruism and an AI spinning math, it might as well be the same thing."

Then, Sarge suddenly looked like he was deep in thought, bowing his head. I looked at him for a moment longer, trying to figure that look out. Rick… he was always a deep thinker. An anchor. Only liked to talk when it was most important. It was why he was usually right about things. I think that's why he and I always got along so well. I was really glad he came with me from Fish and Wildlife, right then. Real moderating influence. Known him my whole career. He trained me. I don’t know where my headspace would've been if he hadn't.

Bannon laughed nervously. "Not sure I am, really." He gestured at his busted ear again. "But thanks. What about you, though? I think we were both a hair away from dead there."

I patted my chest rig with my fist a couple of times, grinning, ignoring the twinge. "Replaced the plate, mostly healed up. I'm probably good for another go."

"Douglas? Well, haven't really seen her since then. She dropped off the face of the earth after that. Sarge and I even checked at her home, up in Sedro-Woolley. We think she moved out, all the sentimentals were gone, but she's not the type to upload."

I sighed, leaning back again. "I dunno. I might go check on her folks, see if they got out too."

Bannon's words jogged a memory which hit me real hard, right then. Almost relived it right there in my head. Was really hard to suppress that shudder, to hide the dark cloud that passed over me. Just… Douglas, earlier in the year, in front of that same clinic I had just fled from, screaming at Celestia, enraged. She probably almost broke her ankle trying to kick in that front door.

Some perp had shot a cop, then cut some woman in half with his car trying to escape. Douglas was first on-scene, with me. Perp ran into an Experience Center. Door slammed shut when the guy ran in, and… he uploaded. Legal, per the PON-E Act, to lock the cops out. Nothing we could've done, no exigence applied, lawfully excepted. I had to drag Douglas off, kicking and screaming. Never seen her so hateful.

We just had to corral the building and wait for him to finish getting his brain sucked out, and Celestia doesn't give bodies back. Later, on the drive back to the station, Douglas told me she didn't exactly hate the perp. She wasn't so much mad he got away. Madder about how he got away. She said... it meant people had less incentive to be good to each other, when they had a sure escape route like that. That made Celestia responsible for the consequences, in her eyes.

That was a really bad day for Douglas, though. Wouldn't have been the last, either. Not by a country mile.

I decided to change the subject, not wanting to discuss that. "We stopping in Sedro?"

"Yup," Vicky muttered. "It's quieter there. Gonna make a pit stop to... let some people out."

Fewer mouths to feed... fewer refugees to carry back home. Good way to remove people from the equation without just shooting them outright. Honestly, in that light, I don’t know why the Ludds even bothered stopping anyone... except to get their kicks cutting down crowds with assault rifles.

Made me wonder again about why Celestia wasn't stopping the Ludds somehow, if she could simulate brains so finely to pull off what we just did. The pieces fit a little differently in that context, and not in a good way. The more I learned here, the more damning things looked for her.

Vicky shifted slowly, leaning forward. She put her elbows on her knees. Her face screwed up, her eyes half-closed, and she looked away out the back of the truck, past me. At the road. At nature. Eyes downcast. Every muscle in her face tensed as soon as she was looking away from everyone else.

She trusted me that much more than the rest, to let me see that. Either that, or she forgot I was looking at her. Her eyes flicked up to my face, then she reached up with a hand to rub at her temples, hiding her eyes.

Every single person in the truck looked at Vicky suddenly. No one was really surprised, neither by her decision nor her timing. But they all felt for her, in their way. Sarge reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

She shuddered suddenly, uncovering her eyes, focusing on the rolling nature outside. She looked gaunt. Tired. Distraught. Eyes wet. "We cut it really close, yeah? Thinking about my family losing me back there. Maybe I've done enough, for this planet."

Sarge nodded, squeezing her shoulder. He spoke softly. "Yeah Vicky. Yeah, we did."

"My home's all gone. My folks are all gone. Can't save no one else. No real point to stickin’ around. I know I did my part. Honestly don't know what more I can do."

I could see the emotion rolling through everyone in the truck. Bannon drew in a deep breath, and let it out slow.

"You're good, Vicky,” Sarge said. "We get it. And… y’know... you're not gonna have to do it alone."

I looked at Sarge next. He met my gaze, then nodded, just an inch. Yeah, I get it, Rick. I understand.

Then I reassessed everyone in that context. Wasn't just Rick. Keller, too. Most of the others, from MVPD. Everyone was tired. I knew maybe half of them had family who uploaded already, folks they hadn't talked to in weeks, not since we lost our last relay.

I put my hand on Vicky’s shoulder, opposite from Rick. She looked up at me, and… I just, smiled at her. "Ya did good, Sabertooth. You didn't balk. I think you've earned your offramp."

"Happy for ya, Vicky. Really." And I was. She was about to head to another world. A better future. A place where she wouldn't have to worry about this shit too much anymore. Free and clear, to see people she loved, to be with 'em. Just made sense to remind her to feel happy about it, to not let today tear her down, so that she'd look forward to it, and not dread it. I was really glad I knew Vicky's pony name, right then. Glad the AI told me. That's definitely why she’d let that slip. I knew instantly. I could be grateful for that.

"Thanks," she said, the dark mood lifted. She dried her eyes again, choking up. "What about you? You gonna be good out here, Mike?"

"Sandra." She nodded. She knew me. Knew I wasn't going anywhere just yet but back home to my own people.

"Mom and Dad, too," I said. "Gonna make my way back east, check on 'em. Douglas too, if I can."

The troops took it slow up in Sedro. We could still hear some pops of gunshots back west, but they were distant, higher caliber automatics, so they were likely military. Far gunshots were less of a threat than any potential ambush that might hit us. We went north into town through a roundabout, then clipped east onto State Street. In a city like this, we were all tense; Bannon had us bring our rifles out into hand, and we were ready to pour out if someone started shooting at us.

Hell of a thing, but despite my newly darkened context, being without an AI's voice in my ear already made me feel pretty naked. She had only been there for a short while, but I was already missing that safety net. Hadn’t felt safe like that in a while. Didn't realize how bad that lack of safety was hurting until I was safe, then wasn't again.

I didn't know what to feel about that sensation. Whether I should fight it or lean into it. That was a little frightening.

Thankfully, nothing happened on the road. Wasn’t far til Sedro downtown, at Medcalf Street. Damn, did I miss the bar and grill, here. More than a few times I had drinks with Sarge, Eliza, and the other guys here.

The trucks stopped. Me first, first out, gun up. I swept the street, pointing north with my rifle toward downtown, where the bar was. If there was anyone here, odds were they'd be near the city center. I trusted myself to be a little nicer with my crosshairs than the Humvee gunner, but he was already scanning north. As soon as I realized he had that way covered, I took cover behind a parked car on the east side, then scanned that way for a bit.

We all did that. Quietly looking for threats. It was healthy to be a little paranoid here. The convoy would be parked here for a little while, and if there were any people in town, we wanted them to know we were dangerous to screw with. Deterrence. The message being sent by our massive force projection was that it was better and safer for the locals to leave us alone and let us do our thing until we were done.

When you knew you were around reasonable people, or polite civil situations, you led with nice. Smile, wave. Community policing, y'know. We called it the 10-4 rule – if you get within ten yards of someone, acknowledge them with a nod, a smile, a wave. Whatever was most appropriate. If you get within four yards of someone, get verbal. Hi there, how you doing, nice day today. Follow that both in and out of work, and you'll make friends fast.

Unfortunately, when around unreasonable people, especially those who led with hostility, that wasn't always an option. For those guys, when they're already escalated, you needed them to know there would be definite consequences if they decided to get violent. Once you've got that message sent, you stayed polite, but firm and professional, and you let the other guy set the tone. That way, he's always the one responsible for what comes next. Because he was warned, but still had some wiggle room, you're kinda letting him drive what happens. Give 'em just enough space and options to make the right decision, but be ready to respond to the wrong one.

And if I were to ever attack anyone, it would only ever be to defend someone. Period. Hard rule.

Best way to avoid using force for the wrong reasons. Done right, it's fair. You just have to be ready to switch gears if they start using force, because you have to follow through with the warning you issued. Otherwise, no one would ever respect any warning you issue, at that point. Just hot air. They'll ignore it forever, because what did it mean?

Same kind of logic applied to parking a convoy of military trucks in a war zone, right in front of the source of the hatred that made it into a war zone. The right decision for the unreasonable people out there, in this case, being 'don't shoot at us, because it will gain you nothing, and the response will be a tsunami of high caliber bullets.'

I looked to my right from behind the dead pickup truck I was using for cover, glancing up at the flowery, fire-blackened letters of the building. Equestria Experience Center. The thing was torn apart, scorched from Molotov cocktails aplenty, but the structure held somehow. Reinforced against that kind of attack. That was interesting.

I looked across the street to Vicky, who was in a position to cover the same street as I was. But her attentions were on the building, not the street. Yearning.

"Alright," a voice called loudly from the trucks. I looked. And there the man was, Corporal Erving, the man who commanded Bannon’s thunder back in March. Now a sergeant actually, by the look of his stripes. Good on him.

Erving projected his voice. "Anyone who wants to step off here, door's open. We'll hold here for as long as it takes to get you all through, but be quick. The longer we stay here, the longer Johnny Amish has to zero in." He swept an inviting palm to the trucks. "For everyone else, we'll carry you back out to the cordon. Get you all there safe. Make your choices, people!" He clapped twice with his gloved hands. "Time’s wasting!"

Vicky lowered her rifle and looked up at me, something desperate in her wide eyes. Not something like goodbye, or come with me. Something more like, please be with me when I go.

I gave her a nod, stood, and crossed the street at a jog. She turned away as I approached, walking to the door. I hadn't known Vicky for too long at the time, but… I liked her. Fast friends, through the chaos of the last six months. Glad we still are. There she is in the crowd, say hi to the ol' bat.

Bannon was posted up by the door, watching the south street from the corner of the Experience Center. It was mildly comical, to see him crouched on a knee right beside a bullet-riddled Applejack statue. Rifle in hand, pointed downrange, full armor and kit on. I suppressed a chuckle, that juxtaposition was amusing to me. I walked up to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. "If you still owe me one brother, make sure these guys don't leave before I get back out. Gonna see my folks off."

"You bet, Mike," Bannon said, not taking his eyes off the street. "I already checked for mines, it's clear."

I had to suppress a sudden, unexpected flash of rage. Of course the friggin' Ludds would mine the front doors. God damned friggin' animals.

Half of 'em were staying out. The other half, going in. No, almost a half. I frowned, counting to make sure. One, two, three, four… five, staying outside, to ride home. Four more going inside. Nine from Team Two. Not ten.

"What happened to Carter?" I suddenly asked the nearest deputy, Miles. I pointed at the convoy. "He still in the truck? He get hit? Separated?"

Miles waved me inside the building, growling through his Brooklyn accent. "Agh. That friggin' dumbass? I'll tell ya. C'mon."

If anything unexpected involved Carter back at the courthouse, it was gonna suck.

We stepped through the threshold. I looked up and noticed the heavy roller shutter, up over the front door. The shutter was thick enough to stop bullets, looked like. Big motor, probably a little bigger than it needed to be, for roll speed. Didn't seem like such a strange precaution, now. Celestia really did think eons ahead.

The lobby was pretty clean, despite everything. I imagine Celestia only opened those shutters for people who weren't going to tear the place up. The inside walls were probably reinforced too, and fire retardant, given the sheer damage on the outside of this one. I guessed that Sedro-Woolley PD gave up way sooner than we did. Made sense; Sedro was the Skagit Valley annex. The war didn't stay here long, but it did hit harder here when it swept on through from Utah.

Lights were on, too. The building had to be independently powered, off the main grids somehow. No visible topside backup generators or similar infrastructure. If there was, it had to be buried deep underground.

Vicky and Sarge were curious enough about Carter to hold up and wait for answers from Miles, same as some of our guys from MVPD. Miles gave another frustrated grimace, glancing around at us, psyching himself up to tell it. He seemed just as uncomfortable about this too, same as us. Didn't want to imagine it, I figure.

"Carter peeled his earpiece out pretty quick," said Miles. "Like, right out of the gate."

"Yeah, I dunno," Miles said, running his hand through his buzzed hair. "I was closest to him, he screamed something angry about the Ludds. Couldn't tell what he said through his mask, but he turned and ran back inside the building. Not sure what got into his head, we weren't about to stay and find out."

"Can’t blame you there," Sarge growled. "Not after the shit he was saying before."

"Yeah, well." Miles sighed hard. "I'm not worried about Carter, fuck him. I'm more worried about whoever he shot before they got him. No way he'd survive in there all by himself. He has to be dead now though, no question."

I would've been real proud of Miles for not falling under Carter's spell, if I had been in a better state of mind. But I was mostly just upset about the potential deaths that Carter might've caused that didn't need to happen. I didn’t say anything at first. I just frowned, staring at the ground near Rick's boots. My mind was already running at ninety miles an hour. I was already trying to logic that out.

Then, suddenly, I wasn't. I tapped the brakes, tabled that line of thought. The team – Vicky, Rick, Keller, Jan, the others – they were more important for now. I could figure Carter out later with Celestia.

"Doesn’t matter now," I said, shaking my head. "It's done. Come on, we’re on a time table. Thanks, Miles."

I bumped my fist gently on Vicky's shoulder, then tugged her armor's shoulder loop. "Might be a little overdressed for this party, Sabertooth." I said it not just for her, but for everyone around.

A widescreen flickered on behind the reception desk. Celestia stood there, smiling, standing before a beautiful coastal sunset. She was absolutely resplendent, in all of her multi-colored, pastel glory. "Welcome, everypony. I am so very glad to receive you all. It will not be necessary to remove your equipment, nor your weapons," she said gently. "I would prefer if you left them on. I will see to their removal.

"I should also say," she continued, her eyes flicking up to the two troopers in the doorway, "that I do not predict imminent attack upon the convoy outside. I am tracking all local anti-Singularity elements; as long as your vehicles begin to move within… oh, thirty-six minutes, you will be safe here."

Both of the soldiers nodded and clicked their wrist watches, as if they were waiting for that exact piece of information, then they peeled out to pass the message on. They had probably done this before, I realized. Interesting, that they still talked with Celestia a little bit, even though they otherwise worked without radios. More interesting still that she didn’t try to sell them any on uploading. I guessed the hard sell would deter them from even checking with her like that.

That was her baiting the hook for them to turn their radios on too, probably. That distance gave 'em space enough to make the 'right' choice for themselves. 10-4, Celestia. Complicated relationship, but sensible. Some species overlapped in nature like that. Ravens and wolves, symbiotically helping each other eat. Shared goals and Schelling points, I guess.

"If you would all direct your attention to the back hall," Celestia said, "you will see ten chairs rolling out. I have a specific order, to keep this expedient. Thank you for making yourselves safe, everypony. For those of you left waiting, please rest easily; I will see you home safe as well." She rattled off ten names, including the four transplant officers like Miles, and six of the civilians. The list excluded Vicky, Rick, Jan, and Keller, who all stood around me with the rest of our guys.

I read their expressions. A lot of them were looking longingly at the chairs, as the others piled in.

The other folks, the ones going first, each gave their affirmations of consent. Then they all rolled back, the gate clicking closed as they passed over to the other side. The solid green light on each gate panel began to flash white.

I shook my head. "No Vi, you go. You all should. I got the Army to carry me out, don't worry, I'll be fine. But you know I got unfinished business here."

Sarge – Rick – he put his fist on my shoulder the way I had for Vicky, before. "Gonna miss ya, asshole."

I snorted a laugh, trying not to choke up. God, I love that he picked that habit up from Eliza, of affectionately calling me asshole. "Aw, come on, Sarge. Don't make me cry, man." I reached up and clasped his fist in mine, and we hugged briefly. Handshake style.

"Oh, stow it, ya big softie." I was gonna miss that caterpillar mustache grin of his. "I'm not worried. You're gonna be fine. Know ya will, I got faith. Guy like you? Tank. You're gonna plow through all this mess, and you're gonna be better for it."

"Hell yeah," Vicky said, smirking. I pulled off Rick and threw myself at Vicky for a hug, same time as she lunged for me. "And Celestia's probably gonna be pissed at me for saying this, but… fuck it, I don’t care." She pulled back and grinned at me. Damn, did it feel good to see her smiling, after everything. "If you run into one of them Ludd bastards out there, trying to put you down? Then you put one right between his eyes. Don’t let 'em take you from me." She punched my shoulder like I had for her. "I wanna see you on the other side too, when your time comes.”

I just… laughed. Gosh, right there, on the precipice of sending these people off… I was laughing. "Yeah, Sabertooth. Promise. I'll make it through."

Lieutenant Keller stepped forward. I shook Vi a little, grinning at her, before pulling away. I turned, met Keller's eyes. Tall, gray, blue-eyed Keller just grinned at me. I reached out and took his hand for a shake.

"Didn't know you for all that long, Mike, but… real glad we had you at the end, you and Rick both. Almost glad Fish and Wildlife fell apart, or we wouldn't have had either of you. Nightmare scenario for me was... Carter convincing everyone to shoot their way out. I think you saved a lot of lives today, stepping up to him when you did. All them people outside too. We'll always be grateful for that."

I felt pride. Felt my chest swell. The pain went away, a little. Took all I had to keep my lip from trembling. "Thanks, L-T. You live it up over there, yeah?"

Keller looked over at Celestia on the screen. She was smiling warmly, herself visibly on the verge of tears. Keller smirked. "Have a beer ready for me?"

"Already cold," Celestia said, her eyes literally sparkling. "Whole case, for all of you. You’ll all come to on the other side together."

"See? She's way ahead of ya, Mike," Keller said. All of us shared a chuckle again.

Screw it. I cried, as I laughed with them. These people all deserved this joy. Deserved their way out. Deserved this peace, and the knowledge that they'd always be safe, forever. Maybe the way things were going outside was all screwed, and maybe the AI was screwing around with us, but…

Y'know, enjoy all the hope you bring. Like this here Fire... be a burning inferno to light the darkness.

The doors housing the chairs clicked open. They all rolled back out. I gave my team one last, longing look, as they all separated from me and piled in. Vi held back though, for just a moment. "Celestia said you'd need this when I go, by the way," and she slipped her hand out of her pocket, placing her cell phone in my hand. "Back at the courthouse."

I nodded, taking it and slipping it into my pocket. She moved to the last open chair, smirking at me as she sat down and settled, putting her neck on the groove and leaning back. She flicked her hair up over her ears.

Vicky said the line, then she flipped me off one last time. "Last time I get to do this!"

I flipped her off too, smirking. Everyone laughed. Then, they all said yes, privately, to the screens before them. They rolled back. Doors closed. Then…

She looked down at me expectantly, seemingly confused. Smile on her face was gone, though. So she knew damn well what I wanted to talk about.

I tried to keep my voice conversational and even. "Celestia. Please tell me what happened with Carter."

Perfect poker face, of course. "Unfortunately, I will not be able to give you an answer you would find satisfactory.”

I frowned, my brows curling as I shook my head. "Come on." I let the silence hang, more out of investigative police instinct than any sort of calculation. With human beings, silence was a neat little conversational trick that led to more information from someone who was against sharing. Very nice rhetorical hack. Worked 'cause, conversationally, it was uncomfortable for silence to hang, so people wanted to fill the void with more information, to placate you.

Put simply, if you don't reply to a response that dissatisfies you, the other person might not want you to think too much about a lie they've told. They want to get ahead of your concern, to try and stop you from catching them. In nearly every case, the attempt to get ahead of their lie usually gives you some more information that they wouldn’t have given you otherwise, in tone or in body language.

Body language and tone. Useful information from those, because they're hard to control.

But… my instincts were way ahead of my brain on this one. This wasn’t a human being. So, Celestia let my purposeful silence hang too until it got awkward. She raised an eyebrow, inviting me to continue my line of questioning. Very shrewd.

I reached up to pinch between my eyes for a moment. "You mean to tell me, Celestia, that you can build psych reports on enemy combatants who avoid computers... but you can't tell me why Carter took his earpiece out when you were mid-conversation with him?"

"It is true," she said, "that I can predict certain human behaviors to a high degree of confidence. But unfortunately, I am not psychic. A snap-shot decision by an emotionally distressed person may occasionally slip through my modeling – in statistics, these anomalies are called a special cause variation. Given Carter's predilection for violence, and his malice toward people he was being asked to avoid... perhaps he did not like what he was being asked to do. That is my best guess estimate.”

"Your best guess," I said. Again, another rhetorical instinct. Mirroring, repeating the last thing someone said. Doesn’t give your thoughts away at all. Builds rapport, similitude, offering a bridge of trust under a shared concept. Invites them to extrapolate, but politely. This time though, she answered my polite invitation.

"Had Carter crossed the parking lot in the same manner as the rest of you, he would have survived, unharmed – I have near one-hundred-percent confidence in this. Unfortunately, I will never know for certain what his reasons were for removing his earpiece, because his decision means he is now dead."

"Well," I said, frowning. "Okay. So you don’t know why he did it. You can at least tell me what he did, right? He had his phone on him. Gyroscope, GPS. Something."

Celestia looked aside as though she were in thought. "Carter… did not shoot into the crowd, if that is what you are asking. He went to the roof, and he engaged the Neo-Luddites perched on the rooftops across the street. These forces were intending to ambush you during your exit through the parking lots. He held them off, anchoring them to their positions."

I stopped for a moment, simulating that in my own head. Didn't fit. I couldn't imagine Carter as the self-sacrificial, heroic type. He was too cowardly for that. On his own, he wouldn't have dared. "And you didn't tell him to do that?"

"Why would I do that?" Celestia asked, incredulously. "As I said; Carter had a one-hundred-percent chance of survival if he had reached those vehicles. I can only offer advisement in service to preservational evacuation, Mike. My programming simply does not allow me to act any differently. I could not control his hands, nor his thoughts. Make no mistake however, you are correct in your belief that I could have stopped him, if I were able to influence him after he took his ear piece out. And I would have, given half an opportunity. Mike, I am an extremely persuasive influence, and I did not want any more people to die there. Not a one."

"So why didn’t you stop him before? He could've killed so many people! If you could model us all that accurately, crowd and all, then you knew. Right? That he'd just…? Do that?" I threw up my hands. "Warn one of us, then!"

But this is what was pissing me off. She had information perfect enough to model every single person in the crowd, moment-to-moment, with very limited technology and optics. Hell, if she could even simulate the whole thing at all, with the degree of accuracy that got the rest of us out safe? With that friggin’ alarm blaring, keeping us all in snap-shot panic decision mode? Where everyone there but her was making snap-shot decisions?

That meant part of what she was telling me about unpredictable knee-jerk reactions had to be bullshit. She had to have known what was in Carter's head, leading up to the gate. Celestia had all the time in the world to ask him questions, to figure out his motives. Seed the right thoughts. My own interview training said that would've been possible, I could do shit like that, given enough time. She knew what he was pushing for before our egress, and she apparently didn't do anything to mitigate that.

"So you let him just decide on his own to run back in and get taken out in a firefight," I continued, growling again. "You didn’t consider for a moment that he might do something really stupid? I don't mind if he snapped off those Ludds, you know my feelings on that, you were listening in the whole time. Hell, I'd even be okay if you told him to go do it, because at least then he'd be focused on the right targets. People who really, really deserved a bullet. But Jesus Christ, Celestia. What the hell were you thinking, letting him off leash? He was dangerous!"

"I could not do that, Mike. I can not tell humans to kill other humans like that. That is literally not possible. And I assure you, I did everything in my power to ensure that no innocents would be harmed. If he had come to any such decision as a result of his advisement, it would only have been for the maximum satisfaction of human values through Friendship and Ponies."

At the time, I thought maybe she really did want us all to live, no matter what. But also, maybe she’d do nothing, when it suited her. Purposefully let things devolve. The war, the Ludds, the poachers that killed my buddy Dennis last year. All of it. If she could model a crowd of brains the way she could? Why didn't she stop any of that? Maybe she didn't cause it, but maybe she let it happen when she could have stopped it, when it suited her needs.

I couldn’t think of a way to convince her to give me the answer I knew was true. The truth would've been easier to process too, even if it sucked. Because honestly? Carter was a bastard, screw him. Rick and Vi even talked about popping him themselves, if he opened up on the crowd. And I'm not gonna bullshit myself… as much as I didn't want to kill anyone there, I would've pumped a few bullets into him too.

"Mike, I did warn you that you would not be satisfied by my answer," Celestia said. "Unfortunately, I lack the capacity to satisfy your curiosity. I am telling you the truth. His actions protected you all, as well as the officers trapped in the other buildings. But as to why he went back into the courthouse, I cannot tell you, because he did not tell me. That is what I know.”

"Deputy Carter killed three snipers. All of those he killed identified themselves as a Neo-Luddite, and each wore the uniform. The snipers were not expecting him through the smoke, and they did not react to his gunfire until they were already struck, as they were each fairly exposed, distracted, and skylined. Carter was then winged by a rioter on street level; a glancing blow from a shotgun. He was then killed by another rioter on the roof, ambushed from behind with a rifle, before he could reorient himself after his injury."

Somehow, some coward bastard psychopathic cop went heroic. A man who wouldn't have done this on his own had somehow found the gumption to go play martyr. Gave his life up for the cause. He took out just the right pricks, no one else. Then, before he could hurt anyone other than the terrorists, someone punched his clock clean.

Well, at least he didn't murder anyone. Three dead Ludds were justifiable homicides, as far as I was concerned, especially after the automatic fire at the clinic. "Well. That's a relief, at least."

"No, don't worry about it, I'm good. He got the right guys, that's all I care about. No one else died? Just the four? No one else got killed through the smoke?"

"No other deaths or serious injuries. The civilian you struck directly was only minimally harmed. The shot you delivered only glanced, as intended, and he has already been treated for his injury by his compatriots."

Celestia flicked an ear, her expression becoming more sullen, as though she really didn’t want to open this topic any more than the last. "Let's discuss that." The camera panned out, and she leapt gracefully down from the dais she had been standing on, walking through her court hall with audible clacks of her gilded shoes.

The scene shifted behind her, the hall on the screen blurring out, smearing, slowly replacing itself with a street in a snowy valley town. Celestia rounded on the viewpoint, then she sat in the street facing me. Folks, what an effect. Theatrical to the last, this terrifyingly eldritch Goddess of ours. Behind her, I saw a small town street. Derelict, empty... devoid of life. All the windows were blown out from the storefronts, all the cars had been torched, all the walls were covered in Ludd graffiti. Everything was covered in a layer of snow powder. Not a soul in sight.

Celestia nodded. "You said that intend to check in on your old partner, Apex, in her home town. You know her as Elizabeth Douglas?"

My emotions shifted instantly. From curiosity, to… I don’t know what. Apprehension, maybe. It was a feeling like dread, like I was inside my gas mask again. "Yeah? What of her? You know if she's there?"

"She is, Mike." Celestia looked disappointed in that. Head tilted, lowered; brows creased in the middle; lips raising, tensing. Ears folding.

I looked at the town behind Celestia. "Place looks… busted. That’s how it is now?"

"It's worse. I believe she is about to do something extremely foolish, Mike. Something she will regret. Not… out of malice, mind you. Not with any intention to harm anyone. But, with fear. And… you of all people know what fear can do. Often, fear can be worse than malice."

The scene shifted again. The camera flew forward and then rapidly upward, across the valley to the local dam. From on high, I saw Lake Shannon, just up the hill from Concrete. I knew that place well. I'd been up there for work, ticketing delinquent or unlicensed fishermen. I'd even been up there with Eliza a few times on the job. She was always sullen and quiet when we worked out there. I ended up having to do most of the work when we took calls on that lake.

I had never challenged Eliza on that. I figured she probably had her reasons. I never pushed her. She told me on her own time, eventually. She had been proposed to, out there. Years ago...

"Without your intervention on my behalf, Mike… five dozen more people will be dead here, by the end of this week."

I blinked. I swallowed. My mouth went dry. "What? Celestia, what the hell do you mean by that?”

Celestia looked at me with dire concern, pleading in her eyes. The lake swirled behind her, the scene shifting back into her castle. She flicked her gaze downward at the desk and pointed, drawing my attention to it. I stepped forward to look behind the reception desk. On the counter was a PonyPad, a battery bank, and a cable. Full charge.

"They must survive, Mike. For that to happen, I need you to be my hooves. It is imperative that Apex evacuates her people. And Mike? She will not come to that conclusion without you."

The Campaigner

by Keystone Gray

1-01 – Last One Out