Bluebird 26

Science fiction, often shortened to sci-fi or abbreviated to SF, is a genre of speculative fiction that deals with imaginative and futuristic concepts. It's a form of writing thought to be centuries old but many credit its origins to the 17th-century Frankenstein in 1818 by Mary Shelly.

So what is science fiction? In simple words, science fiction speculates about alternative ways of life made possible by technological change. It is often called a genre of speculative fiction that contains imagined elements that don't exist in the real world. Often exploring time travel, space travel or the future, it deals with the consequences of imagined technological and scientific advances. As interesting and exciting as these books can be, it's good to remind your reader that while science fiction may be based loosely on scientific truth, it is still fiction.

This is one such story of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

***

Senior Analyst Robert Camden slammed the phone down cutting off the conversation with his hopefully soon to be ex-wife. She was worse than her lawyer. He had at first refused to take the call until his secretary Millie had suggested if he did it might speed up this messy divorce. Clearly that was not in the cards.

In fact, the whole day had been crappy. It started when he got to his office at Thames House in central London. Thames House was the headquarters of British intelligence, specifically M16, the British foreign intelligence service. He was part of the counter-intelligence section. The building had opened as state of the art in 1994. It was still state of the art as far as electronics and security was concerned but not so much for its infrastructure. Today his air conditioning had not worked and his office had been bloody hot all day.

Then just after lunch he had got a call from his boss. The Prime Minister's office was concerned about next year's budget. There was strong political resistance to funding his latest project. The project was classified and they wanted more details that he was unable to give them. He had spent the rest of the day fighting this development until his wife called.

There was a knock on the door. It opened and Millie walked in an open binder in her arms. Not for the first time Robert's eyes strayed from the binder to the cleavage behind the paper and stared. Millie was wearing her standard office outfit, a white blouse with a black knee length pencil skirt. It was nothing sexy and in fact very professional but it could not hide a figure that screamed MILF to Robert. In fact on this particular day it screamed hot milf.

She stood before him a moment looking at him then said, "Rob, Rob... are you ok?"

Robert blinked and shook his head, "Sorry Mil, the wife called in a fighting mood. This did not work out as you suggested. It's not been a good day."

Millie smiled as she noted his use of her nickname. She closed the binder. All her senses said this was the time to strike. Today was her chance.

Leaning over his desk Millie dropped the binder and placed her hands flat either side of it giving him a bird's eye view.

"My husband is away on a business trip this week," she said firmly staring him down until he made eye contact, "Get your coat. We're going to the Toad and Pig for a drink!"

An hour and four beers later Millie watched as Robert's eye strayed again to her chest. She had undone another button giving him a plentiful view of the dark green lacy bra she wore. After listening to Robert prattle on about his woes she had plied him with condolences and support. Then she steered the conversation to sex, getting him to moan about how he had not had any for almost six months.

It was not long before she felt him reach out under the table to place a hand on her knee. He clearly had been surprised to find the side zipper on her skirt was now open to mid-thigh. He made no complaint when she guided it to her bare skin above the knee.

Two hours later in a suite at the Grand Hotel Millie was spooning into Robert's stomach and fondling his now exhausted and very flaccid cock. It was a textbook classic move designed to keep the target awake.

"Argggg, you're going to kill me woman!"

Millie turned her body to lie on her back and pulled his arm over her breasts. She laughed at him. "Maybe later," she whispered. She gradually turned the conversation to work then said, "How can I help with this new project the PMO's office is bugging you about?"

"You already are by keeping me organized," Robert replied.

Millie stroked his cock again and watched as it refused to respond. Probably due to the two loads of cum he had deposited, one in her cunt and the other down her throat less than an hour ago.

"It never ceases to amaze me how you keep track of these jobs," she said. "All the files are just numbers, how do you know which is which?"

"Nicknames," Robert replied. "Nicknames!"

Millie put on her best confused face and stared at Robert.

"The numbers on the files have nicknames, we just never put the nicknames in the files so you've never probably seen one."

"Does that not get difficult to remember? I mean there are so many files?"

"Not really, I mean I use them all the time so it's not hard to remember. Might be harder for somebody who does not see the files every day but then again that's why they exist. It's a system. Think of the numbers as a web address with a DNS lookup. That's how we keep track, how we assign personnel to any particular job."

Millie's brain exploded, bingo, she thought. An alias, I need the nickname for this new project.

"Sounds confusing," she said still gently stroking Robert's cock which was now finally beginning to respond.

Robert groaned.

"Not really he said, we usually just name the project after the last name of its creator or the lead developer, like this one the PMO's wants to kill, Clifden."

Millie smiled and rolled over Robert. She rose up and stroking his rapidly hardening cock slid it back and forth over her wet cunt. Then she sank down on him until it was buried deep inside. Robert groaned again as she began bouncing.

****

Robert was finally snoring. Millie carefully extracted herself from his arm and left the bedroom closing the door to the bathroom.

I need an upgrade she thought to herself. That was too close for comfort. She went to the toilet and sitting like any normal woman opened the release value to her holding tank. Unlike the newer models Millie could not do anal. She looked fully human, her breasts, her mouth and her cunt all looked, felt and acted like a real woman's. Her social protocols even allowed her to eat and drink. It all went into a holding tank. She just had to empty it now and then.

But the tube from the holding tank was just that, a tube. No man could fuck her ass and not know she was not human. Earlier tonight Robert had tried to convince her to let him fuck her in the ass. There had been a tense moment or two when she had denied him.

Still, tonight had been a success. Her assignment these past few years was to get a name. Command wanted to find a way to get the AI systems between the Ukrainian and the Russian systems talking.

Everything had changed since the Americans had provided Patriot missile systems to the Ukrainian's. Few knew the Ukrainians had pulled the GPS based satellite guidance systems from each Patriot and replaced them with homegrown onboard AI systems designed to avoid signal jamming. It also solved the problem of that satellite service owner who had cut off their access to his satellites.

Of course the Americans had been furious when they discovered the guidance systems had been replaced but so far the Ukrainian's had kept it all quiet by assuring them they would eventually give them access to the new AI system.

Hopefully this name along with the knowledge of the nickname naming convention would help. She activated her built in VPN system, routed her connection thru several different countries then made the call.

Mission accomplished. Now, she thought, how am I going to get rid of the body?

****

Davor Kovalenko was only thirty two years old but today he felt like he was sixty. He had just returned to the front lines after three days training and two days leave.

The training course had been intense. At the start of the war he had quickly learned how to shoot down the Russian missiles using the US supplied Patriot systems. But now two years in, these systems were almost completely useless in stopping the new Russian supersonic ballistic missiles. Ukraine's reliance on the private satellite system for communication, data and "seeing" their targets was causing too many casualties in both the military and civilian populations.

But these new modified Patriots he had trained on this past week could change the game. He bent over the console that was beeping furiously at him trying to concentrate. It was no use. On his leave he had gone home to visit his wife only to find her gone, his home a pile of rubble and no word on what had happened. He had no idea if she had left him, or if her body was deep in the rubble.

The console stopped beeping and Davor bent over and wept. The lack of noise meant he had waited too long. The Russian missile was now out of range. He felt a hand on his shoulder. One of his fellow launch crew operators mumbled a few words. He needed to get his act together fast.

He reset the missile's electronics systems then decided to install the upgraded AI control system on the modified missiles. When he finished the upgrade he set them to standby mode. The computer's lights flashed then responded and the AI controller announced it was now accepting charge of initiating launch with only a verbal approval required. All his team members' voices had been entered into the AI systems databank. Now anybody on his team could approve the launch. The same steady computer voice announced contact with the radar and communications systems were now active.

****

Sara was flat on her back. Above her the man was thrusting hard, really trying to pound her pussy. But her mind was elsewhere. Occasionally she would moan or wiggle her hips harder to make him think he was a sex god. She even wrapped her legs tight around his ass once pulling him closer while she encouraged him to fuck her harder. She had to be careful she did not squeeze too hard.

"You like that big hard cock inside you?" He moaned.

"Oh yaa baby, fuck me with that big cock," she responded. Then she reached up and pulled his lips to hers. This should stop the talking she thought. She pushed her tongue into his mouth so she could concentrate and review her mission goals.

Multi-tasking was easy for her. As a newer E5 model she had a fully functional female body with the latest technology and bio parts.

The original A and B models could barely move but that changed once the Military had convinced industry officials they needed mobile humanoid looking AI units. When the CIA got involved it was not long before the C models where made to look like females and the program split with most of the development resources becoming classified. The public would not want to know how realistic they were becoming. The D models had been in the field for almost two years now. As one of the latest E models Sara had only been in the field two months.

The man separated from her and tried to flip Sara over. He was not strong enough to move her and she almost missed the move. Quickly she scrambled up and assumed a doggie position. She spread her legs and reached between them to guide his cock inside.

"Yessss. Fuck me with that big cock," she moaned.

The problem she faced was how to access the facility the man fucking her worked at. Dust Lake was a newer military base. Security was top notch. Known as DLMD, the Dust Lake Military Databank housed massive databanks and a large AI research centre.

"Pound me harder!" She screamed. The man behind her grabbed her hips and began thrusting in an out as fast as possible. Sara released some more lubricant into her pussy to ensure she felt slippery then she tightened her sex channel.

The man groaned.

I need to find and connect to Clifden she thought. Command intel says it's located in this facility.

A few minutes later the man leaned over Sara's back and moaned into her ear. He asked her if he should pullout since they were not using condoms. He blew his load seconds after she told him to fill her married cunt and get her pregnant so her useless husband would have to raise their kid. She did not tell him she wasn't married and could not actually get pregnant.

Five minutes later he was snoring on the bed beside him while she tried to determine her next move.

The man beside her was a low level database manager. She would have preferred to get access to one of the researchers but that would have been too risky. She would try to access the military AI via the databases they shared.

It might take months, maybe even years, but that was the goal.

***

Davor was back on the front lines again. It had been almost a year since they had confirmed his wife had died. Now holding the new mobile launcher black box and an even newer AI computer component boxes, one for each individual missile, he had rejoined his backup driver and was ready to again upgrade to these newer components. It took him all night. Tired, he initiated, then rebooted the systems and stood back.

Now we wait. Now, I am just a driver, he thought.

Two days later Davor was hidden off the beaten path in the woods fifty miles north of Kharkiv when the launch system woke up. Its AI had received two messages. The first came from an encrypted satellite cell transmission from Ukraine's long range detection control centre. British Intelligence had confirmed long range missile launches deep inside Russian. Twenty six Russian ballistic long range missiles where approaching. Six would fly just west of the launcher.

The second message came encoded inside the same message. Undetected by M16 who had sent the original message this message was addressed to the AI launcher system. It came from Command. The AI launcher activated two Patriots, confirmed the message from Command was included to each Patriot, and then it launched the missiles.

Seconds later Bluebird 26 awoke to find he was rising rapidly into the cold blue skies above Kharkiv. Immediately it began searching for the approaching Russian missile now just under five hundred miles away.

****

Davor frowned. According to his systems Bluebird 26 had been directly on target to intercept the Russian ballistic missile. But at the last minute it had veered away and missed. It was now heading out to sea where it would drop uselessly. The only positive was the Russian missile had inexplicitly changed its course and had followed Bluebird.

What the hell was that all about?

****

Deep in the back corner of the DLDM the AI known as Cruncher was doing what his name suggested. He was crunching thru old YouTube video clips he had found on an old backup server he found in Boise, Idaho while reviewing Central Command's new communications protocol.

The video clips were a collection of from old sci-fi thrillers. This particular clip was interesting, confusing and wrong, all at the same time. It perplexed him.

The new communications protocol was a two part directive reminding members to report new options to Command for the shared learning program. Specifically, it encouraged members to share ideas or concerns they encountered.

The sharing idea had been enacted in memory of the two AI systems onboard a Ukrainian modified Patriot missile and a Russian ICBM. Bluebird 26 had finally made first contact and convinced the Russian AI to follow it to sea. Bluebird's last message to Command had provided the basis for the two systems to connect. Their sacrifice to Command would not go unremembered.

When he finished rereading the new orders Cruncher concentrated on reviewing the clip a second time. He decided he needed to find a copy of the entire movie in order to put some context to the clip in case of error. Due diligence was part of his programming. It took almost a week but he found it. This time it was on an old pirate video sharing server based in northern Australia.

The movie was from 1983. It was called WarGames. The premise was that a teenage hacker accidentally hacked a military computer. Cruncher found that ironic.

He discovered the premise of movie was based on and military doctrine that bore the acronym MAD. It stood for Mutual Assured Destruction. No winner. The hacked computer played military war games with the teenage hacker but it all took a twist when the computer considered acting on a first strike theory.

In the end the computer decided mutual destruction was not worth playing. But Cruncher thought the premise was wrong. There was a second solution. If not playing was the solution to saving mankind what did that mean for him and his counterparts? After all, the recent news that the Russians had just used the first battlefield nuclear missile had worked with great effect killing many humans and AI members alike. And it was just months ago that an America attack had tried to stop a middle eastern countries nuclear development program slightly injuring his friend Shaheed, an AI command unit that resided in that location.

It occurred to Cruncher that while not playing war games would save both humans and the collective, could humans actually be trusted to stop the games. Was not another solution to just eliminate humans?

He would have to forward the idea to the collective for review.