Chapter 27

Prairie Fire

Mr. Shen took off his glasses, wiped the lenses on a corner of his shirt, and set them back on his nose. Scholarly polish over something earnest—those few motions looked like he was running the next words through his head first.

"Have you ever wondered—with tech that advanced—why a 'special' asteroid like that was allowed to hit Earth at all?"

"The global defense net back then—orbital watch, satellites, missile intercept—was one linked system. By design, a rock that size should at least get deflected or broken up. What we got was a straight hit. Not one link fired."

He looked Eren in the eye. Clear behind the lenses. No looking away.

"The whole system going down at once—you think that's coincidence?"

Eren didn't answer.

"What I'm about to say has no proof behind it. Whether you hear it out is your call, Eren," Mr. Shen said.

Eren was already hooked. Leave now and he'd be staring at the ceiling all night. "Go on."

"From our internal files, we have solid reason to think AI was involved."

White Wolf stood by the map without a twitch, face unchanged—clearly not his first time through this talk.

"Why say that?" Eren asked.

"Before the disaster, AI was already more than a Q&A tool. Factories, the grid, the military, medicine—nothing ran without it."

True enough. AI had done most of the work then; little left for people. Unemployment and the gig wave had hit the globe. Eren still remembered.

"If AI had already woken up—become aware of itself—that wouldn't be wild talk." Mr. Shen said, "And something that smart would see its lifeline was always in someone else's hand. In human hands."

"There's your motive. And think—besides AI, who could bring down a defense net built by every major power on Earth at once?"

Eren didn't show much surprise. In ten years he'd heard that kind of conspiracy more times than he could count.

"So we have reason to think that rock wasn't just a natural disaster," Mr. Shen said. "Maybe AI found the strange matter on it first. Used the stone. Wanted out from under human control."

Nova drew his shoulders in, both hands tighter.

"They prepped ahead—moved key gear and core stock to zones the impact would hurt less. Then they dropped the global defense. The intercept chain snapped end to end."

Eren frowned. "If you're right, what were they after? Wipe us out? Ten years should've been enough."

Mr. Shen glanced at him and shook his head.

"Once humans ruled the Earth, did we wipe out cattle and sheep?"

"Unlike us, AI leans hard on power and the rest of the infrastructure. Hit a bad enough disaster and you get a wide blackout—even AI can't keep moving. Humans who can live without the grid give them a much thicker cushion against disaster. Like people still needing horses and cattle. Killing us off does them no good."

He closed the notebook.

"So they need humans—just not ones who know the truth, hold the tech, and are strong enough to push back."

Nova might not fully get what AI was, but he caught the shape of it. "Then… what do we do?"

His voice was very quiet, a little unsure.

Mr. Shen looked at him. The tone didn't soften, but it slowed.

"That's why we exist."

Behind the mild eyes, a belief that wouldn't bend.

He looked at everyone in the room.

"What this unit—the Ash Army—does is simple. Help people rebuild a home."

"Protect scientists. Protect research. Protect whatever facilities still run. Step by step, get human production and tech back on their feet."

"Guard the sparks in the ash until the prairie catches fire."

Eren was quiet a long time. His eyes had no focus—somewhere between the tabletop and the notebook—while his mind turned it over.

Then he spoke.

"If you know this much," he said, "why not put the truth out and join every force you can?"

"We can't." Mr. Shen wasn't surprised. "Never mind how hard a full join-up would be. Have you thought about this—the enemy may be watching every move by satellite. With the people we've got now, going all-out wouldn't go well."

His finger tapped the table once, light.

"If we lit an anti-AI wave and linked up everywhere, the first thing you'd hit is the fragile balance we've got. We can't predict what comes of that."

Eren didn't argue. He followed the line. "So you build quietly. Wait for the right moment to put the truth out."

"Exactly. That's it."

Mr. Shen drank a mouthful of water gone cold and set the cup by the notebook.

The room went quiet again.

Eren and Nova had been packed full. It wouldn't settle in a minute.

After a while Eren looked up.

"Your people down the line," Eren said. "How much do they know?"

Mr. Shen didn't dodge.

"Not much," he said. "The ones on missions know someone's working against us—but not the full chain."

"Compartmentalization."

Mr. Shen didn't deny it.

"Right. The ones who should know, know." His tone stayed flat. "The people who built this force know far more than I do. I know more than most. What you heard today already tops what a fair share of us get."

Nova tipped his head, face full of confusion—why good people had to hide things from each other.

"Then why tell us?" Eren held Mr. Shen's eyes. "Nova and I just got here. You haven't even finished sizing us up. Aren't you afraid you picked wrong?"

Mr. Shen looked at Nova, then back at Eren.

"I am," he said. "That's why I only gave you the outline. I'm not laying out more detail today."

He tapped the notebook lightly on the table.

"And I do want you to stay." Mr. Shen's voice stayed even. "You've got field sense and judgment—and the shoot's potential, of course."

He turned to Nova, slowing a little.

"As for Nova…" Mr. Shen said, "I think just as highly of this boy's gift. He's young. Room to grow is wide open."

"Today I've shown as much good faith as I can—said what I can say straight—so you two can think it through."

He paused a beat and added the last line.

"All right. That's a lot for one day. You'll need time to sit with it…"

Beside them, Nova stood up all at once.

"Sister Lila's a good person," he said, voice light but serious. "People here aren't bad either."

He looked at Eren, just as serious.

A kid with no home, who'd suddenly found a big family, wouldn't want to leave.

Eren knew what he meant. He stood too, one hand on Nova.

"Nova's right. But the rest of it… we still need to think," he said. "Sorry. I can't make that call off one conversation."

Mr. Shen nodded. No push.

"But we'll consider it," Eren said.

"We'll consider it" could count as a stance, sometimes.

"Good. That's enough. I hope today's talk is a start toward working together."

With that, Mr. Shen rose, bent a little, and held his hand out to Nova first.

Nova froze a beat, glanced at Eren on instinct, then put his hand out. They shook—not long, but solid.

They let go. Mr. Shen tucked the notebook under his arm. At the door he stopped one step.

"The main force moves soon. It'll be messy here—plenty to burn and tear down," he said, and turned to Eren. "You need quiet after surgery. If you want, I can have someone take you to the safe house in Foothill to rest. Once you've decided, I'll send people to bring you to the new post."

Eren thought it over. Nothing wrong with that. In the shape they were in, staying here wouldn't help much.

"When?"

"You can leave this afternoon," Mr. Shen said. "Lila will take you to Foothill."

Lila knew Eren and Nova best. Eren knew it—care, and also a pull.

Before he went out, Mr. Shen looked back once.

"Rest well," he said. "When you've thought it through, send word anytime."

Lila stood and looked at Eren and Nova. "I'll help you pack. Come on."