The Weapon - Apocalypse - part 23
By Diana the Valkyrie
Rammer goes to war


Rammer:

I don't want to do this. Yes, I know it's my duty, and yes, I know I swore
allegiance and everything, and maybe it's mutiny. I don't want to do this. I
can't just go AWOL, that's the cowards way out. So, I went to see the boss.
And I told him.

"Rammer, we don't make the decisions. We just do the job. And your job is to
take out a Weapon of Mass Destruction, the world cannot be free while that
thing is around."

"She's not a thing. She's a ... "

"Weapon. It's a Weapon. We tried it the nice way, we said "Pretty please", we
tried it the conventional way and wound up with an aircraft carrier that's no
use to anyone any more, and which is furthermore blocking up our capital city
to the extent that it's locked solid. So now we have to go the unconventional
way, and we have to take out that Weapon. By whatever means necessary."

I closed my eyes for a moment. "Colonel, permission to explain?" "Fire away,
Rammer."

"OK. First off, you're asking us to use a nuke against a bunch of civilians
that we aren't at war with. I'm not even sure that's a legal order. Remember
Nuremburg? "I was just following orders" was not a valid defence."

"It's legal. We've already checked with the Air Force legal advisors, they
confirm it's legal because it's against a WMD. Besides, you know the plan - we
don't actually use it against the civvies, that's just the threat that brings
up the Weapon."

"Wendy. Her name is Wendy."

"It isn't human, it's a weapon, and we don't know what it might be used for.
It's already been used to commit an act of war against us."

"Act of war?"

"The total destruction of the carrier Constitution. Destroying a warship is an
act of war."

"But we were about to invade the island."

He glared at me. "That wasn't an invasion, it was a police action."

I sighed. "OK, number two, the tactical plan won't work, all it's going to do
is get her riled up. Sir, I don't think you really comprehend the power she
has. We do not want to make her angry. And threatening her civilians will do
exactly that."

"Machines don't have emotions, lieutenant. And I don't care how riled up it
gets, once the nuclear fireball lights up, it's history, and we can all get
back to normal."

"And what if a nuke doesn't destroy her?"

"Don't be dumb, lieutenant. There's nothing that can survive within half a 
mile of the airburst."

"And what if she does survive? What if it does no damage to her whatsoever,
and then she comes looking for whoever threw it? Where will you hide, sir? She
can see through walls, dig down into shelters."

"Are you threatening me, lieutenant?"

"No sir. I'm just giving you the facts. Sir, I heard that she can survive
being in the center of the sun, our nuke might not have any effect at all."

"Lieutenant, this is not our decision to make, it's already been made. All we
have to do is work out the logistics of carrying it out. People who know more
than you and I have determined that a nuke will kill it, so that's what we're
going to do. Now, do you have any more questions?"

"No sir."

I saluted, about faced, and marched out. Even if she wasn't human, she was
close enough for me. I had some very difficult thinking to do. And since it
was that sort of problem, I went to see the chaplain.

I explained my dilemma to him, and his first reaction was that we should pray
to God for guidance. So we did that. I didn't get a revelation, so I asked
what we could try next. He suggested that we try to reason with the problem,
which sounded good to me. "The thing is, padre, it feels like murder. She
isn't hurting anyone, just the opposite, in fact, look at what she did in
Melbourne. And even when we attacked her island, all she did was to transport
the carrier out of the way, she didn't kill anyone, and she could have."

The chaplain nodded. "But is it murder to destroy a machine?" he asked. Well
no, of course not. But I didn't think she was a machine. "She's not human," he
pointed out, and I couldn't argue with that. "But surely it's equally wrong to
kill intelligent beings that aren't human," I asked. "There's no precedent in
the bible," he replied, "but I think the real issue is, does it, or she, have
a soul?"

I stared at him. Why is this an issue?

"Yuo see, if she has a soul, then it would be wrong to prematurely reunite
that soul with God. But if she's a soulless artifact, which is what I
understand she is, then dismantling an artifact is just a matter of
convenience, there's no moral or ethical dimension." "Padre, she laughs. She
cries." "Does she? Or is that just a simulation, an imitated behaviour
designed to convince you that she's human." "But we do the same. We learn by
imitating our parents." "But we're born with a soul, and a machine is not."

I scratched my head. "Look, she's not like us, of course. She isn't made of
flesh and blood. But surely that doesn't mean that she isn't alive, that she
hasn't got a soul?" "Yes, my son, that's exactly what it does mean. God
doesn't give souls to artifacts."

I think it was the "my son" that got me. I'm not your son, I thought. Or maybe
it was the smug certainty on something he couldn't possibly have an informed
opinion about. I mean, how the hell does he know what God does? Or what God
could do if he wanted to? Plus, this whole "soul" thing seemed like a huge red
herring. The issue isn't whether or not she has something that cannot be
detected anyway. The issue is whether killing her is murder or not. I made one
last try. "So it would be OK to build a bonfire, tie her to a stake, and burn
her?" "If she has no soul, then it would be no worse than doing that to an
animal. And if she doesn't feel pain, which I understand is the case, then it
would be no worse than doing that to a computer."

"It still feels like murder to me." "Son, you have to do your duty to your
flag and country. Dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori."

I think I understand how they justified burning witches, torturing heretics
and the institution of slavery. The first step is to define the intended victim 
as non-human. I thought of Wilfred Owen, thanked the chaplain, told him that 
I'd pray for his soul, and left.

I didn't get much sleep that night. My sense of duty to flag and country was
wrestling with my feeling that I was being asked to do something terribly
wrong. And then, in the intervals of worrying about that, I worried about the
likelihood that our nuke wouldn't have the intended effect, and would just
make her angry. I thought about The Weapon dogfighting with me, and
splattering me with mud each time, and what that might turn into if she was
pissed off. I thought about Wendy, sitting at the center of the sun and crying
because someone took away her kitten, and what's a nuclear bomb going to do
that you don't get in the middle of a star? I thought about all the Nazis who
had "just been following orders", and how I thought I wasn't like that.

In the small hours of the morning, I went and sat outside, and watched the sun
come up. The same sun that she could see. The same sun that she would swim in.
That huge thermonuclear furnace that brings life to the planet 93 million
miles away. And I came to a decision. I knew what I was going to do.

After breakfast, I went to see the Colonel, and I explained my plan. He
spotted the flaw immediately. "That's suicide", he said. "Colonel, the whole
mission is a suicide mission, she can fly rings around us, she plays tag with
us when we try to dogfight with her. At least my way, it's more likely to do
what the politicos want."

He nodded. "OK, Rammer, you know the rules. I can't order you to commit
suicide, but I'll get you the trigger mechanism you want; the rest is up 
to you." I saluted, feeling a bit better now about this whole thing, and left.

We took off at noon. The other guys were laughing and kidding around, they
didn't seem to have any sense of flying into danger, or if they did, they hid
it real well. Of course, that's what we do; ice cold nerves and no doubts
whatsoever, and if you're scared, you make like you aren't. Piece of cake.
Eggs for breakfast.

There were two squadrons, 24 planes, armed with AMRAM missiles, but mostly
with TOW wire-guided, because heat-seeking missiles wouldn't work, she wasn't
hot. And radar-guided wouldn't work, she was too small a radar cross-section,
she was lost in the clutter. We flew low, to avoid being spotted by radar, and
met with our flying gastanks out over the Pacific. After another 500
miles, we met another bunch of KC-97Ls and topped off our tanks for the final
run. When we were done, I saw them scoot for home, and wondered if they really
would be there for us on the return trip. And then I wondered if there would
be a return trip.

I thought about the Japanese pilots that attacked Pearl Harbour. What were
they thinking about, as they came in for the raid? Did they think that America
would just roll over and give up? Did they realise they were kicking over a
hornet's nest? Did they have doubts about the morals of bombing a country they
weren't at war with? What had they been told, before they took off, that it
would be a piece of cake? Could they have imagined Hiroshima and Nagasaki, as
they woke the sleeping giant?

And then, of course, I thought abuot the Kamikazes. What were they thinking
about, as they took off for the final time, for Emperor and Country. A
desperate manouvre, hurling their plane like a flying bomb into the enemy
shipping; effective but ultimately futile. Because they were defeated by a
weapon of far greater power than any that the planet had seen before.

Two hundred miles out from the island, at exactly the point I expected, I
heard her voice. "Weapon to Rammer, do you read me, wanna play tag?"

I was ready for that. "Rammer to Weapon, we're here to kill you unless you
surrender"

But I wasn't ready for what came next.

"Weapon to Rammer, if I surrender, will you tie me up with ropes?"

Oh shit. She thinks it's just a different game.

"Rammer to Weapon, this isn't a game, Wendy, our orders are to destroy you."

"Weapon to Rammer, stop being silly. Look, I've found this great game with
ropes, but it needs three people, get back to your base and I'll show you how
it works."

"Rammer to Weapon, you've been classified as a Weapon of Mass Destruction, and
by order of the President, we have to disable you."

"Weapon to Rammer. I don't think we're singing from the same hymn book here. I
think we need to talk. I'll be with you in a tick."

I saw the planes at the front of the formation open fire, I could see the
missiles burn as they rocketed towards their target. She pulled some very
heavy G forces as she evaded them, and then I started to hear "Eagle two,
unable to see anything, there's mud on my canopy" "Returning to base,
visibility zero". She was slapping mud on the canopies, and forcing the pilots
to break off. I lost sight of her, and then she was flying alongside me, her
hand full of muck, ready to slap it over, grinning at me as she waited for me
to realise that I was tagged again.

I lost sight of her again as my eyes filled with tears; then I couldn't bear
to look any more, and I unsafed the detonate button and mashed my thumb down
on it.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. I'm not sure who I was apologising to, exactly. Then
I thought, how come I'm apologising, there shouldn't be anything left of me. 
Then I thought, maybe the old padre was right about souls after all. But surely 
if I was just a disembodied soul, I wouldn't be feeling the blast of cold air 
in my face? Or an arm like a steel band around my waist?

I couldn't see her, but I thought she'd be able to hear me. "It didn't go off,
then?" I asked, "a dud?" "It wasn't a dud, and it didn't go off. Little boys
should not be playing with matches," she said. "I made it safe, and I've
confiscated it. And I did the same with the other two." "Other two?" "You
didn't know? Two other planes were carrying nukes, they weren't about to rely
on just you. And real soon now, you and I are going to have words with a few
people."

We flew in silence for a while. I couldn't see her face, she had me turned
away from her. Even without seeing her face, I knew that I was in trouble. No,
I knew that we were all in trouble. But I also knew that I'd done my duty to
my country, and I hadn't murdered her. "Not for want of trying," she said,
"maybe not murder, but definitely attempted murder. And yes, I know you were
"just following orders", so what we're going to do, is find out who gave those
orders, and punish that person." I didn't like to ask if she was going to
punish me too. I've seen what happens when she punishes someone, and it's not
pretty. The last guy she punished lost everything he'd ever hoped and dreamed
of when his ship ran aground on the White House lawn.

We arrived back at base; the planes hadn't gotten back from the mission yet.
"Who's in charge here?" she asked. So I took her to see the Colonel.

She walked straight in without asking. Without even opening the door, either.
She went straight through the heavy oak like it was a bead curtain. It crashed
to the floor, and I followed her just in time to see her kick the Colonel's
desk into the wall, and smash it to splinters with her fist.

"You and I need to have a cosy little chat," she said. He looked at me,
standing behind her. "You were right, Rammer. This was a bad move." "How many
nukes have you got on this base?" she asked. "That's military secret
information," he replied. "Wait there," she said, "don't move. You can't run,
you can't hide." And she flew out. Through the wall. Demolishing half the
building.

I looked at the Colonel. "She's pissed off," I said. He looked at the shambles
that had been his office, and agreed. "What's she going to do?"

I sat down on the floor, and gave him my appreciation of the situation. "I
don't know in detail, but when this is over, you'll be saying "yessir" to the
deputy assisant janitor."

"And you?" "And me? Worse." "How can it get worse?" "Easy. She knows what you
want and love, and she takes it away from you, for ever." And I thought, I'll
never get the chance to find out what that game with the rope is. I'll never
get to play tag with her again. She thinks I'm a complete and utter shit. And
she's right. "So what is it you want and love, Rammer?" I stared back at him.
I didn't want to answer. What I wanted had just flown out of the room.

After a few minutes, she came back. "OK, I can now tell you exactly how many
nukes you have on this base. Zero."

The Colonel looked up at her; she was hovering several inches off the floor.
"I'm not going to comment on that." "You don't need to," she said, "nukes
aren't exactly difficult to detect. You had fourteen, now you have none. I've
confiscated them. Little boys shouldn't play with matches. Now you can have all
the fun of explaining to your chain of command how you lost fourteen nukes.
Court Martial, I should think, and when they've finished with you, you'll be
lucky if you're allowed to play with paper darts. Come on, Rammer, we're going
to talk to his boss."

She picked me up, and zoomed out through the hole in the wall. She still had
me turned away from her, I couldn't see her face. "Where are we going, Wendy?"
"You said by order of the President. We're going to talk to your boss, and
we're going to negotiate a surrender."

And I guessed that it wouldn't be her that was surrendering.