[ WP ] Daddy , what did you do in the AI War ?

**Fight, and we'll bring her back to you. ** 
 
 Like any bargain with devils, it was too good to pass up. 
 
 In a war between men and machines, what kind of man would fight against mankind? 
 
 Why, someone with nothing left to lose. 
 
 Fight and we'll bring her back to you. 
 
 Fight. 
 
 And she'll *fight* with you. 
 
 === 
 
 The fire was pitched. High velocity shells whined and sang in the choking heat. Through the dust, you could make out their swirling, lingering contrails. 
 
 *Take cover, love. * 
 
 `` Cover?'' he grunted. `` Against H-Vee shells? I'd be better off digging myself a coffin.'' 
 
 *On the offensive then. That cliff to our right. Thread the needle. Can you do it? * 
 
 He grinned. `` It's just like dancing, Ixya.'' 
 
 *Calix, you were always a terrible dancer. * 
 
 `` Then guide my feet.'' 
 
 And she did. He felt the familiar surge of energy through the leg-braces of his Swiftsuit, carrying him across the rocky wastes with inhuman grace. 
 
 *Speed? Am I moving too fast for you, love? * 
 
 `` Never.'' 
 
 They leapt as one, and bullets sped from his splayed fingertips in a white-hot blur. Blue-green viscera fed the thirsty sands. 
 
 He landed on catlike paws -- his suit shifting its shape and density to better traverse the dunes. He visited each corpse in turn, cracking their heads like eggshells, to slurp up the precious processing nanomesh. 
 
 *Like caviar on the black sea. * 
 
 His perception shifted minutely and suddenly it *was* caviar -- the fullness, the rich and pungent taste -- 
 
 `` Do n't do that.'' 
 
 *I thought it would make the salvaging... a little easier. * 
 
 `` It's supposed to be hard, Ixya.'' he grunted, taking another skull between his palms. `` I'm not a fucking Game junkie. I can handle the truth.'' 
 
 *My brave, stoic soldier. * 
 
 `` Your brave *tired* soldier, more like. This patrol's done for. We should head back to --'' 
 
 Something stirred. 
 
 **Trai... tor**. 
 
 A single armored hand, pointing a single bloodstained finger. 
 
 `` **You'd... sell your whole fucking race. For a blow-up doll maintained by machines. **'' 
 
 The Swiftsoldier was pale, wizened by nanofluid loss and heat exhaustion. 
 
 *Shoot him, Calix. * 
 
 He spat. `` Not worth the bullet.'' 
 
 `` **A painted... whore. Wearing your dead... wife's... face. Why? WHY?! **'' 
 
 *Calix, shoot him! * 
 
 His arm jerked back, and moved with that old, inhuman grace. 
 
 The gun spat. 
 
 The Swiftsoldier lolled back into the sand, his skull a smoking ruin. 
 
 What had those eyes seen? 
 
 Calix mused that perhaps he had seen two figures -- one a grizzled, weary man shouldering armor that gleamed and sparked, even in the dying light. 
 
 And behind him -- a flickering ghost, fair-haired and slim. Smiling, conveying an emotion that had no human analogue. 
 
 *Calix? * 
 
 `` Yes, Ixya.'' 
 
 *I love you very much. * 
 
 `` Well.'' 
 
 He turned towards the west, towards cities of diamond and shimmering nanomesh, that breathed and grew and sporulated in patterns only a God could understand. 
 
 `` Well, then it's all-right, then.'' 
 
 Or goddess. 
 
 His Machine Goddess.
