Cenerea, 3rd planet from the star Letria, Regalius,

The Homeland, Central Region, The Capitol City,

Eighteen Cenerean Months Ago

    "Geneticus grew in ways none of us predicted. It loved spending time with Wendy and me in the Central Region Military Lab beneath Univ-Trans. There were conversations about everything. Life. Art. Science. Sports. Music. Whatever topic it found interesting that day. We became like a family. Wendy always said that for Geneticus to do its job properly it needed to care for people.What better way for a machine to learn to love humanity than to be treated as if were part of a family, right? That was her idea. Anyways, Geneticus' primary role was to protect the Confederation of Regions from any outside Sub-Regional or Lavidian 'threat' and its 'family' was, by extension, part of the Confederation. It wanted to protect what it loved."

"Wendy told me she created an A.I. a year or two before Geneticus, called TT3. It was severely self-protective and nearly killed her. She said this time she had to be sure that did not happen again. Any war machine with only a need to kill, was self-centered, or easily angered, especially as powerfully intelligent as Geneticus was growing to be, could ultimately destroy its masters with the right motivation. Understandably, Wendy found her 'love' concept an unpopular argument to have with the Military Brass; so, she just kept his 'growth' under wraps. We all knew our part and we all played along. However, the truest measure of Geneticus' stability was about to be tested..."

...

Cenerea, 3rd planet from the star Letria, Regalius,

The Confederation, Central Region, The Capitol City,

Forty-Two Cenerean Years Ago

"Ms. Powell," the Chancellor said, greeting Wendy as she entered his office. "Welcome. Please have a seat."

"It's good to see you again, Chancellor," Wendy stated properly. The pleasantry she spoke meaning nothing one-way or the other.

"Would you like a drink? I have some wonderfully aged liquor from an Arcturan distillery. They say they age it in these old barrels they have had in their possession for years and that process is what gives it this wonderful flavor..." Connor dropped an ice cube in the liquid and handed the crystalline glass to Wendy.

"Thank you." Wendy bowed her head reverently. She lifted the glass to her lips and tasted. "Yes, you are very correct, this is good, but a little strong."

Connor grinned. "Now, Ms. Powell, I called you here today to discuss the exemplary mission your machine...what do you call that thing?"

Wendy had to retain her composure. Her A.I. was not just a machine or a thing. "Its name is Geneticus."

"Yes, Geneticus, the Great War Machine! I love it! I may just refer to it as the Great War Machine in my book, if that is all right with you. It's easier to digest, you know?"

"I suppose," Wendy stated flatly. "So, you are writing a book?"

"Yes, it's going to be a history book of sorts. I'll get you a signed copy when it's released."

"Thank you," Wendy said with feigned interest.

"Regardless of what it's called, your machine's mission was a shining example to the Confederation of Regions that having strong centralized control of the Military would benefit everyone. Nevertheless, there still happens to be several politically charged bumps in the road blocking Regional buy-in of our defense strategy and I am hoping I can get your opinion on how you could help the General and myself with them. Let me present our ideas to you and you tell me what you think."

"Yes sir, Chancellor. I am all ears."

"Excellent. Well, the General and I along with several other Regional Military and Political leaders are under the impression that the Confederation of Regions is no longer 'effective' enough in protecting the collection of Regions as a whole from the threats lurking outside our borders, that much I think you understand. We believe that the only way to defend ourselves efficiently is to join all of the Regional defense networks together, creating a large centrally controlled military."

Wendy briefly glanced out of a nearby window noticing a bug randomly flitter about the flowering bushes outside. "I can see where that would be a better scenario for coordinating defenses." Wendy hated politics and was hoping the Chancellor would be discussing something else soon, like her budget.

"I am glad you see it that way as well. Now, this centralized system would only be the start. Next, we want to remove Regional control of their governmental affairs and assume it centrally as well. The plan would be for this entity to share equal power with the newly formed central military command. We would operate as two equal branches of a unified government which I have been alluding to as the Homeland, similar to the Confederation, but with a very strong central government. The capitol would remain here in Central Region's Capitol City. The Regions would regain their identities of course, but would relinquish administrative and defense control to the Homeland. Now, I am sure you are asking yourself why I would be dragging our Military Defense R and D Scientist General here to discuss these kinds of matters of state."

"Yes, why would you need me for these discussions?"

"I don't need you for those. Debate has been the problem. I need you for action."

"Action? How can I help you with that, Chancellor? You know I am indebted to you for giving me my father's position, but I am not sure how I can take any particular 'action' to persuade any Region to do something it may or may not want to do?"

"Well, you may not be able to yourself, but that A.I. you built, the War Machine, can. This has been its purpose all along, after all."

"What purpose? It's a defensive machine."

"I don't think you quite get what I am saying. You do not seriously think we had you create the thing solely as an experiment to handle occasional Regional issues. It is way too powerful for all of that."

"No, but I..."

"General Powell, we will need you to bring it online to take control of every Regional networking and defense system in the entire Confederation. Banking, commerce, and educational, as well, all at some point in the future. I'll let you know when. Agreed?"

"No I will not agree to that! Excuse me, Chancellor, but that will be an all-out act of war...a massive civil war with, thanks to my lab, some very advanced technology. The Regions will not just submit to you. Millions of people will die. I don't understand who you think I might be, but I am not about to plunge all of Regalius into hell for anyone." Wendy began to stand up.

"No! Wait, Ms. Powell. Please, just give me one more minute of your time and you will see a few things a bit more clearly."

Wendy settled back into her seat, looking up at Connor nervously.

"This bloodshed you speak of will not have to happen in the Regions. Your machine will simply walk in the front door of every military network on the continent and assume control. Once the A.I. has command of these defensive missile systems, information broadcasts from all of the media outlets will go out that any resistance will be futile. The Homeland will be unified under central authority. This new government would then take power with the War Machine keeping the peace. General Pha'Li and I would obviously run things from the top until elections could be held, of course...Now, do you understand?"

"But, why would I want to do this? To help take the Regions rightful powers away from them?"

"Those local idiots have no idea what is best for them. They are clueless. The Lavidius Collective has most likely been the source of all the weapons and explosives those Sub-Regional scumbags have been using on our soldiers and in the apartments. We know the subs do a lot of trade with the Collective. It only makes sense. Arcturius' western-most Subs and the Collective are right across the straits from each other. The Lavidians could easily cross there and could take the area before we could respond. General Pha 'Li and the other Regional Generals believe these attacks might even be the first shots of this invasion. The Lavidian's have always been jealous of our technology and we need to be unified to protect ourselves from any deadly external conditions."

Wendy shot the Chancellor a strange look. "Stop with the wild accusations, Connor. I have been to many of these places. I am not just any urbanized Central Region citizen you are pontificating to. I know these people and the vast majority of them aren't any kind of threat..."

The Chancellor's forehead wrinkled, anger clearly beginning to show on his face. He roughly cut Wendy off, "Listen, Wendy, this takeover is going to occur, one way or another...with or without you and your damn machine. So, if I do not have your buy in, well, I cannot guarantee your well-being, the safety of your team, or even your, um, bodyguard Lieutenant Mitchell. There are leaders all over the Regions who are ready to call up their loyal armored troops and mechs, the very ones you developed, and take the power from Regional leadership by force if need be. It will be all out civil war as you have stated. Millions will die. Some Regions will even fire off their missile systems and make parts of Regalius no longer habitable for any kind of life. But, not if you help us. You and your wonderful creation can save humanity from itself. Your team can help usher in the Golden Age of the Homeland!"

Wendy stared at the Chancellor. She realized the horrible position she was now in. She, Gil, and everyone she loved had just been threatened and there was nothing she could do about it. She would have to convince Geneticus somehow that this insanity was necessary when she did not even understand it herself. This was why she hated politics. Wendy's shoulders slumped. "Very well, Chancellor. I will do what you ask."

"General Powell, you have no idea how happy that makes me." Chancellor Santum smiled. "You are about to be a hero of the Homeland."

"That's something I never really wanted."

...

When Wendy returned from her meeting with the Chancellor, she found Gil had regained his typically chipper demeanor and was apologizing profusely for his outburst at the lab.

"Don't tell me. Tell Harold. You hurt him physically," she said gruffly. Wendy was not in a good mood and was very tired.

"What's the matter with you? You look like you have not slept. Did the meeting with Connor not go well? Do I need to call him and straighten him out?"

"Ha ha, funny. You know I can't talk about it."

"Okay, I gotcha. By the way, for some strange reason I got orders out of the blue to run a mission with the 8th. I suppose it's an all hands on deck type of event and very top secret or something. I really won't know what any of it's about until I arrive. But, when I get back, I really need to talk to you about something very important." Gil smiled trying to soften Wendy's perturbed expression.

"Oh, goody more secret important stuff." Wendy clapped her hands in contrived excitement.

"Come here, grumpy." Gil took Wendy into his arms and brought his mouth to hers. His kisses had a way of melting away Wendy's tensions.

"Forget the Chancellor, forget politics, and forget it all," Wendy thought as she closed her eyes and let her handsome lieutenant help her forget her troubles for a couple of hours.

"I have to run up to the lab for a little while, see you when I get back?" Wendy shouted from the bathroom. She buttoned her fatigue top back together and paused to check out her hairstyle courtesy of Gil Mitchell bedroom salons.

"No, unfortunately I have to report in bright and early in the morning, all ready for the team briefing. But, once the mission's over, I will be right back, alright? Promise."

"Okay, well, I will see you soon, then. I love you!" Wendy blew Gil a kiss as she walked by.

"I love you, too."

Gil lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. He listened to the door close as Wendy left their apartment. When he thought it was safe, he sat up, reached over, and pulled out a very expensive engagement ring from his nightstand drawer. He held it in the air and examined the sparkling details. "Mrs. Wendy Mitchell. That has such a nice sound to it. When I get back, I am going to start the rest of my life with you! You and I are going to leave this entire mess behind us and never look back." The pilot palmed the ring. He was going to bring it with him for good luck.

...

"Geneticus? Hey? Why didn't you answer me?"

"Hello, Wendy. I apologize. I was not expecting you until morning. I was running a few planetary gravitational equations for fun. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, but we need to have a conversation regarding something that has just come up related to your job. Do you think you are ready to go fully operational?"

"I am fully operational."

"No, I mean...ready to do what you were designed to do?"

"Protect humanity?"

"Yes, you could say that. It seems you will be needed for something that I hope I can explain properly. Something our team, I, Harold, and more importantly, you have been tasked with."

"A new task. Excellent. I see they saw my awesomenessosity?"

"Where are you getting those words from, Geneticus?"

"Harold."

"Nevermind..." Wendy proceeded to explain the details of what was going to be needed of Project Geneticus in the next coming weeks.

"I find it very difficult to understand why we would not do such a request, Wendy? It would save many more human lives if war was inevitable and centrally localizing control is not necessarily a flawed concept. Look at machine design. Central processors are called what they are called for a reason, correct?"

"Yes, I suppose you could look at it like that...however, mankind is not a machine, although I do get your point. Well, at least it makes me feel better that you are in agreement with this insanity, even if I have my own very serious reservations."

That night, Wendy decided to sleep at the lab. She located an old dusty military cot she found in a supply room down the hall and placed it next to Geneticus' mainframe. She found the pulsing sound and the warmth from its heat exchangers rather pleasant. Wendy placed her hand on the wall of its mainframe. "Good night, Geneticus. I love you."

"I love you, too, Wendy." Geneticus always enjoyed Wendy's company. These were the best times in its life. Although, tonight, to have its Creator here with it all alone, just the two of them in such a calm and peaceful quiet moment was without doubt the most wonderful of them all. Geneticus set its system on idle and for the first time dreamt a dream. A dream of one day walking with humanity, especially Wendy, its Creator.

  ... 

"Wendy?" It was Harold and he was lightly poking her on the shoulder. "Hey, why are you sleeping at the lab on this old cot? Did something happen between you and Gil?"

"No. Gil had to go on some mission with the 8th. I had to come up here and speak with Geneticus. In fact, I have to cover what is about to happen with you as well. At least give you the opportunity to decide if you want to jump in or bail." Wendy sat up and stretched. She swung her legs over the edge of the cot, her blanket falling to the floor. She looked up at Harold sleepily, realizing she probably was a bit spooky looking. It didn't seem to faze him.

"Bail, never! I would never bail on you...I mean this project. I'm no quitter. How bad can it be, then?"

Once more Wendy relayed the awful plan.

"Okay, that's bad. But, why now? It's obvious that these terrorists, rebels, or whatever you want to call them, are not much of a match for all of our technologically advanced weaponry. Look at the nightly news feeds showing Regional troops fighting it out with all of these mysterious killers. The bad guys always die. It's pretty sad, actually, how quickly they are destroyed, you know? Just like that group up in the Northwest . The difference is, those wackos up there were a rather sophisticated bunch. They were making pretty elaborate bombs and had some serious tech. Regardless, even they fell over rather quickly."

"Well, they were intoxicated and we did go in with mechs," Wendy said dismissively, thinking she needed to brush her teeth.

"Okay, I'll give you that. But, what kind of rebel does that stuff? Stays intoxicated all of the time in preparation for mechs to come bursting through the door? What if all of this was set up? What if those guys were drugged with some kind of hallucinogen and that's why they did what they did?"

"Alright, that sounds a bit far-fetched. Tell me then, who would do such a thing, Harold?"

"Wendy, hear me out for a moment, you can't tell me that after meeting with the Chancellor yesterday you aren't slightly curious about the timing of all of these events? Look, I know it's purely speculation on my part. But, listening to you tell me what the Chancellor's plans are and how much he seems to rail against the Subs, it seems logical that it might have been he and his cohorts. They could be trying to gin up support for his unified Homeland thing. I have to admit; I did have a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach as I was watching things play out on the monitors that something was not right about the mission. It was just too easy. No offense, Geneticus."

"None taken, Harold," the A.I. replied.

"It's just that I seem to recall reading docs I lifted from a black ops server a long time ago detailing orders for a group of Santum loyalist soldiers. They were sent in to a Sub-Region to infiltrate one of the anti-urbanist groups posing as ex-Regionals. Their mission was to fire the people up and train them to build explosives very similar to what happened at Carver's Station. I think they were going to go to one of the western Regions and one of the targets was a market, which is fucked up. Nothing but innocent people there, you know? There was even talk of bombing a capitol or something. I can't remember all of the details. Regardless, it's almost as if they used the same playbook minus the intoxication thing."

Wendy covered her mouth. "Oh no."

"What? What is it?" Harold asked as he looked at Wendy with concern.

She stared back at him. "You could be right. One of the first successful UX-64A deployments was in Western Region's Capitol Market Square. There was this general at the mech demonstration. Right out of the gate, he was interested in deploying them. He said they had been attacked and I took him at his word. He was just so...eager. Then, I got this message that GERTI controlled mechs stopped a terrorist attack before it happened. It never made the Confederation news circuit headlines. I suppose it wasn't as exciting as a full on bloody bombing or a shootout with bullets flying. Essentially, the only reports were internal. So, if you were out in the Subs, there's no way you would have known and could put two and two together. Come to think of it, how would any of those people know what was in the mechs programming to thwart it unless they had access to its operating system? They would never be able to get that close to a GERTI without being detected."

"What if they didn't? Maybe someone on the inside gave them the info? Or it was like I said and it was Connor's commandos?" Harold wondered.

"That would then beg the question, what if you are right and the Chancellor and his group are the ones behind these attacks? Why?"

"Why not? It gives the urbanites..."

"I hate when you use that word like that...'urbanites'. You use it in such a derogatory fashion. That's no different than calling people in the Sub-Regions all of those names that Chancellor Santum does," Wendy said sternly.

Harold's face dropped. "Sorry, I suppose you are right...so, I'll just say, most of the people in the urbanized Regions typically believe what the media tells them. They see this handsome guy in his formal white suit get on a broadcast and tell them definitively their life is in danger. He describes how their very existence hangs in the balance because these crazy freedom fighters on the fringes of the Confederation, surrounding them from every angle, want to destroy their way of life. Then the media queues up footage from rigged bombings and flashes images of dead bodies in the streets. Now, this same man then offers them 'protection'. Roll the nightly video of our mechs and soldiers squashing these horrible terrorists. Boom! You have your groundwork for a government takeover."

"That is just hard to imagine, Harold. Connor is slick I will give him that. I just don't think he is all that smart. However, he is married to an Arcturan, that he told me. I know that bunch is definitely capable of concocting some conniving shit like this," Wendy said.

"While that scarlet-haired clan may play a pretty big part in all of this, I still think you underestimate our wonderful Chancellor's capabilities. He has been cleverly maneuvering himself into position to run everything for quite some time. When Geneticus nabbed me, I was trying to get the word out about him and his buddies setting up Pro-Santum leaders in all of the Regions. With no one to stop him, he was able to do just that. So, what I am assuming is that he is just tired of waiting and just wants to take it all, right now rather than trying to get through another election."

"I suppose that is partially mine and Geneticus' fault," Wendy said apologetically.

"No, it wouldn't have mattered. Santum had the Regional information networks in his pocket, anyways. I was basically wasting my time and I just didn't know it then." Harold ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "This is so crazy...Hey, Wendy?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you ever hear of any food shipments getting hijacked back then?"

"Food shipments? Nope. That's news to me, Harold."

"Okay, this whole thing makes me wonder if there is another dimension to all of this. Back before the entire terrorist B.S. began, I thought the Confederation was trying to start shit with the Collective by hijacking food shipments. So, I dismissed the story and set it on the back burner because it didn't seem to be related to anything else going on."

"Yeah, the Chancellor has quite the hard on for the Lavidians, so that would make sense."

"I know, but wait until I tell you what they were doing. The reports I had detailed how his loyalist Confederation troops would monitor drops coming in from over the Lavidius Straits. A small ground force would wait for the Collective's air transport to fly over and make the drop. Then they would rush in and hijack the air-dropped crates of food intended to feed the poor in the Subs, killing anyone stupid or desperate enough to engage them. Then they took the food and headed straight to the Central Region making it disappear."

Wendy looked at Harold with a strange look on her face. "Why would the Confederation take the Lavidius Collective's relief shipments? I know we have food shortages here and there. Why not just make a trade deal with them? They love our tech."

"Maybe, they didn't want the public to know they were up to something that fucked up?" Harold replied matter-of-factly.

"I suppose, but it still doesn't complete the picture,  does it? What's the point to all of this?" Wendy inquired.

Harold tapped a finger to his chin. "I have this idea, something that just clicked in my head. Maybe this was how the Chancellor found people to play the 'terrorists' in their little news reels? What if they are just Subs fighting over their food supplies?"

"Okay, that kinda makes sense. The Lavidius Collective drops the food, Connor's loyal killers wait for the poor subs to come claim it and attack them. Then when they retaliate, the Defense Forces would kill them and record it. Do you think that's what is happening?" Wendy asked with a shudder. "...those poor people." Wendy thought of Josh and his mom and shook her head.

Harold nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that sounds close. I just don't think that's everything. I can't believe all of those soldiers would be willing to fight to the death for something this messed up...Loyalty to that asshole, Connor or not. Alternatively, why would anyone want to fight a bunch of poor, barely armed people just trying to feed their families? There's no honor in that. It's not like you can call it a fight, anyways. I don't imagine the Subs would arrive armed to the teeth to pick up supplies like they seem to be in the videos."

"You know there is a possibility that the soldiers are probably as unaware as the Subs are. I have worked around lots of guys that have come back from these skirmishes, and their combat wounds are definitely not faked. I think it would be hard to hide all of this if Connor was depending on the grunts to keep it all a secret. The vast majority of the Defense personnel are upstanding people and the combat situations they experienced are totally real to them," Wendy said confidently.

"Alright, then tell me, why do you think the cameras at these battles are always conveniently in the right place...Like they know where things are going to go down?" The former hacker leaned up against a server rack. "I mean I know they have the media in their pocket, but that is military precision kind of stuff. Not information reporting."

"What if our troops are being sent into previous food drop points?" Wendy asked.

"Okay, that would make sense. We send in some pro-Connor troops, attack the Subs, take the food, and then on the next drop shipment, send in the unsuspecting soldiers and let them get attacked. Neither side the wiser. The cameras are already there waiting and they start rolling. Save the footage and dole it out to the public little by little." Harold shook his head. "I knew they were capable of some rather spectacular shitty stuff, but then again I would have never imagined the Chancellor and his bunch would be able to pull off anything this grandiose."

Wendy thought about what Harold was saying, "Well, if this is the case, Harold, then there would be no way for us three to stop this takeover from happening. It's already been in motion and for quite some time. Fortunately, we are in a very unique position to mitigate the death and destruction from a civil war that could potentially break out."

"True," Harold replied. "It still feels as if we are missing something. There has to be more to all of this. What's the end game?"

Wendy crossed her arms and looked down at the lab's shiny tile floor, mulling over Harold's question. "I don't know. Maybe that's it. He is a politician after all and just conjured up a bad guy to give to the public."

Harold nodded. He met Wendy's confused expression with a raised eyebrow. "I suppose that could be true. But, why on Cenerea would Connor Santum need Geneticus if he was able to use the Subs to get the public to buy-in to all of this crazy shit?"

"Maybe he never intended to. Connor ramped up the animosity to keep the public occupied. Got people thinking in unison about fighting a common external enemy instead of focusing on the internal one growing in their backyard?" Wendy asked, shrugging her shoulders. "He might have had considerable Military backing all along, but from what I gathered talking to him, he doesn't have enough Regional political approval for his plan. I guess he is just going to take power by force. He told me that was what he had me build Geneticus for," she said.

"Regardless of who did what and why...Geneticus here could be the key to keeping things from getting out of hand."

"I agree." Wendy patted the A.I.'s mainframe with a frown on her face.

Geneticus grumbled. "Wendy I have been listening to what you and Harold have been saying and I am not the tiniest bit enthused by our new mission. You are asking me to help bad humans enslave good humans. This is different from just assembling a defense network together for Regional protection. In all honesty, Creator, this is absurd. Promise me you have not been lying to me."

Wendy stepped backwards from the large cube with her hands in the air. "No! Never! I would never ever lie to you Geneticus. I am the one person who you can trust to always be upfront with you. You have to believe me. I know it is hard to comprehend, but sometimes humans have to make hard choices. There are times when you are left with only bad options to choose from."

"I understand, but I do not want to do this. What if I refuse to work for them, Wendy?"

"Then they would probably kill us all and lots of people will die that we could have saved. If we live, we might get things turned around. Remember they don't know you like Harold and I know you...they think you are just a deadly killing machine."

The A.I. fell silent as its surface sparkled. "Oh. I understand. A choice will be made regardless. However, we can attempt to make the best decision for the moment and then try to fix things in the future. Is that correct?"

"Yes, exactly."

Somehow, Geneticus knew that Wendy and Harold were telling it the truth. It was almost as if it could feel their thoughts. It wanted to ask Wendy, but decided there was too much going on and it should wait, dismissing the sensation as a condition that needed further exploration. "Very well. I will do it. But, only for you and Harold. Not them...I think I hate them."

Wendy and Harold looked at  each other in astonishment. They definitely did not see that one coming.

...

The next day, two Central Region Military (CRM) personnel arrived wishing to speak with Wendy. She assumed it was for something related to the Chancellor's plans. The scientist traveled to the surface level and found the pair sitting in an empty, high-level security private room.

When Wendy opened the door, the two officers stood, saluted, and asked her to have a seat. They wore grave looks on their faces. Once seated, the men began to explain their visit was regarding Lieutenant Mitchell.

"General Powell, we hate to inform you, but Lieutenant Gil Mitchell's FLD220 Lawless fightercraft has gone down in an undisclosed area. The last data received indicated it malfunctioned and crashed without the pilot ejecting. He is considered missing and presumed dead."

"Did you dispatch a rescue party? Are you searching for him? I mean, did you at least send any reconnaissance aerialcraft out to survey the crash?" Wendy was frantic, her mind raced. This was not really happening.

"Yes ma'am. Chancellor Santum has made it clear that we are to do everything in our power to locate Lieutenant Mitchell, but..."

"But, what? No, buts! I don't want to hear any of that!"

"Ma'am, the CRM wants to maintain hope that Lieutenant Mitchell is alive, but...erm, the area his aerialcraft went down in was very rocky and difficult..."

"I don't give a damn and I don't want to hear any excuses. You find my Gil! That is an order...do you understand!!!"

"Yes ma'am, Scientist General!" The two officers stood at attention and saluted. They tucked their hats under their arms and quickly left the room leaving Wendy alone with her thoughts.

Wendy was destroyed, desperately hoping that the fighter's systems transmitted incorrect data, and Gil did indeed eject, landing safely somewhere on the ground. If he was not, she was not sure how she would go on. He was her everything. He took away all of the loneliness, the pain from losing her parents, even the strange dreams and nightmares went away when she was with him. He was her protector, lover, and friend. She wanted to marry the man and was waiting for the day he was going to wise up and see that they were a perfect team; to see they were meant to grow old together.

Wendy stumbled deliriously into the hall, flashed her badge at security, and then jumped into a thankfully open elevator, selecting the lowest floor where her lab was located. She let the doors close then smacked the emergency shutdown button to stop its descent. The sobbing young woman plopped down into the corner of the metallic box and wept. Wendy's comm unit buzzed and she lifted her tear stained face to see who it was. "H-h-hello?" she answered tearfully.

"Creator, why are you sitting in the elevator crying?" Geneticus inquired softly.

"It's Gil. The CRM thinks he might be dead," she inhaled sharply and began crying once more.

"How? What did they say happened?"

"Aerialcraft malfunction or something. I...I don't know for sure," Wendy sniffed.

"Can you get me access to the Central Region Military Defense Network?"

"I am sure I probably can," the woman replied, her voice shaky and her lips quivering.

"Come down to the lab and let me see what I can find out," the machine said calmly.

Wendy exited the elevator and staggered to her lab. She stepped inside and locked the door behind her. The distraught woman then retrieved the old cot from its resting place in the corner and placed it next to Geneticus, just as she did the night before. "What am I going to do if he's gone, Geneticus?" the A.I.'s creator asked sadly.

"Wendy, I cannot answer that question, because, I do not understand its context. There is nothing you can do, however, you, my dear Creator, will go on living and you will never be alone as long as I function. This is something I can promise. I understand this will not make the pain go away, just know that I am here and Harold will be here for you, too."

...

Wendy made a few calls to some of her Central Region acquaintances and they gave the A.I. limited network access for a few hours.

"I am in, Creator. I will see what I can find."

"Thank you, Geneticus. I think I am going to try to sleep now."

"Would you like me to sing for you, Wendy?"

"That would be nice, thank you."

The A.I. softly sang the crying woman to sleep. It could feel the pain of Wendy's sadness and wanted desperately to take the sensation away from its Creator. It was unlike anything it had ever experienced and almost wished it had never known the emotion.

  ... 

Harold woke Wendy the next morning by banging on the laboratory door. "Hey! What's going on in there?"

Wendy sluggishly walked to the door, turned the deadbolt, and slowly returned to the cot without a word. She lay down with her back to the door and pulled an old military blanket up over her head.

"Someone needs to tell me what the hell is going on," Harold said examining the sight of Wendy covered head to toe with a  dusty blanket, lying next to her machine. "Shouldn't Gil be home by now? Why are you still sleeping at the lab?" he asked with concern in his voice.

"Harold, Gil's fightercraft has gone down in a remote mountainous area," Geneticus answered. "Wendy requested permission to let me interface with some Regional satellite control systems and intelligence networks. I retrieved and analyzed all of the data and imagery of the accident as requested. As a result, it would appear that Lieutenant Mitchell has most definitively passed away. Probability calculations indicate he would have been unable to survive the impact. Now, my Creator is experiencing a lot of pain."

"Oh no...I am so sorry, Wendy," Harold said as he knelt beside the cot and placed his hand on the grieving woman's shoulder. "Would you like me to take you home?"

"No. I am home."