Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (111 page)

“See? Well, it works. When we're in the same room and the Wi-Fi is active, we've got true telepathy going on. It's hard to explain. And we can link in with others too.”

“Others?”

“Yes. We wanted more people with the same mindset. The potential to link. Sergeant Aspin was one of them,” Zack said, pointing to a soldier with a Chow Shepherd mix. “Doctor Glass linked him to a clone of his old partner Bumper.”

“Oh.” Jack frowned. The names tugged at his memory but only distantly. He watched as the pair were put through basic exercises together. From the look of things, they were still on the baby steps stage.

“I know it's a lot to take in, Dad. I'm not … well, me. Not like I was. But I'm still your son with a new brother,” he said, wrapping his arm around Max's shoulders. “Better get used to it.”

“It is a marriage of sorts,” Doctor Glass said, looking at the pair. “A true symbiosis,” he amplified as Jack turned to him. “It cannot be undone until death. I'm not even sure if one would survive the death of the other at this point,” he said.

“Now who's reading minds, Doc?” Jack murmured. He closed his eyes. “I obviously can't stop what's already been done. I wish you'd clued me in a little. I'm guessing your sister and Yorrick are equally clueless?” He opened his eyes.

Max and Zack seemed oblivious to him for a long moment. When he cleared his throat, they answered. “No they don't know,” Zack said with a curious inflection to his voice. “We thought you should know first.”

“Okay,” Jack said heavily. “I know. Anything else I should know?”

“We are a hell of a fighting team, Dad. And when we're in a unit it is … incredible.”

“I'll take your word for it for the moment,” Jack said dryly. He frowned. “No, damn it, I've got to know. Your lives are going to be on the line.”

“We can do a live demonstration,” Zack offered.

Jack shook his head. “I don't know if my heart could handle the stress, son.”

“Then I suggest we go to video from a previous exercise,” Doctor Glass interjected, giving Jack a curious look. Jack turned to him and nodded once.

<>V<>

Jack was shown a video in the wardroom. His heart about stopped when he saw the pair going live fire against a group of very well-designed and programmed mechs. The robots were scary fast and very good. But it became apparent right off that they were better than anything they had seen on the ground with the troops. The duo moved and fought as one. It was like they could see through each other's eyes to avoid incoming rounds. They had the perfect tag-team combos going throughout the exercise.

“We purposely trained hard. Harder than what we expect on the ground, Dad. It's what you need to do if you expect to survive, push the envelope,” Zack said.

Max whined slightly and nodded his muzzle to the video footage. Jack took the hint and returned his attention to it.

<>V<>

When the demo finished, Jack braced himself as the screen went off and the lights came up. “So? The plan?” Jack face worked. “I'm taking this is some do or die op? Something I'm going to hate?”

“Pretty much,” Zack replied cheerfully as Max seemed to laugh and flick his ears. Zack petted him gently. Max nuzzled him back.

“Dad, we have to do this. We have to get inside the fortresses and take the brains out—to kill the A.I. in the servers. The masterminds. Knock those out and the field robots get dumb. We've seen the results before.” Jack nodded. “I see you have too.”

“But getting in is a suicide mission, son. You know that.”

“It is and it isn't. If it is, I …,” Zack looked at Max, “we, accept the risk. We'll get it done one way or the other. But we're trying to minimize the risk if possible. Getting just inside the fortress's armor and dropping the bomb is one way.”

“And running like hell? You can't outrun a nuke on foot, son,” Jack said quietly.

“If it goes off underground?” Zack shrugged. “It depends on the lead time and size of the nuke, Dad. And if we can close the doors behind us to contain the damage and reflect it inward …,” he grinned evilly. Jack grunted in amusement at the idea. “Sun Tzu would love it.”

“Right,” Jack drawled. “You have to get through all those defenses first.”

“Which is why we'll look the part. Sneak in nice and dirty. The dog will scout ahead while the human partner brings up the rear with the gear.”

“Okay.”

“It'll work, Dad. We get in or get the dog to go in. They plant the explosives, then get the hell out.”

“Remember, we've specifically avoided canines for Neo soldiers. This is why.”

“You'd have to do it all at once. Even an hour apart and the A.I. would have time to get the word out to other sites and adjust to shoot on sight,” Jack warned.

Zack nodded. It was eerie to see Max nod in perfect accord too. They both looked sober too. “That's the chance we'll have to take, I suppose,” Zack said.

“It's a big one, son. All this on a roll of the dice isn't something the brass likes to go on. I know they are okay with spec ops, but ….”

“We've got to do it. We've got to break the log jam, give our people a leg up. Got to, Dad,” Zack implored.

Jack grunted, thinking hard. He didn't like the odds or the idea of losing his son. Sons, he thought, eyes cutting to Max briefly.

“To do this we're going to need more—dozens, hundreds more probably. We're going to need time to train of course. Then time to work our way into position. Just getting to the ground and behind enemy lines is still something we'll need to work out.”

“Getting to the ground is easy; you can take a shuttle or drop pod. You are not dropping behind enemy lines in one though. That's a clear here-I-am sign. A stupid one. Not happening,” Jack said shaking his head firmly. “It'd have every robot after you.”

Zack grimaced. Max nodded wisely, however. He put a paw on Zack's hand. Jack saw the gesture and realized they really were a pair—a couple of sorts.

“Max agrees apparently,” Zack finally said, smiling at his partner.

“Good to know one of you has some sense,” Jack replied with mock annoyance.

“So you are okay with this?” Zack asked with a hopeful tone of voice.

“Okay? I don't have a choice. What's done is done. That much is obvious. Getting used to having an adopted son …,” Jack shrugged, eying the dog. Max whined at him. “I'm … coming to terms with it, slowly; let's put it that way, okay? Don't push it; let me grow into it please.”

“Okay.”

“Sorry to ask this, but,” Jack turned to Doctor Glass, “how long will Max live?” he asked bluntly.

The chimp grunted then shrugged. “Age wise, half a normal human's without geriatric treatments. With them …,” he spread his hands apart. “He's going to have issues with his hips, back, and some other problems later in life. He has to survive his missions to get there first.”

Jack nodded with reluctant agreement as he eyed the pair.

<>V<>

Fallen Angels, Knights from Hell, Dragon Slayers, Tin Can Openers, The Royal Flush Gang, Pete's Peturbs, Aces High, Suicide Squad, Justice Patrol, Angels of Mercy, Full House, Crotch Rot, Morgan's Renegades, Dogs of War, Bruins, Thundercats, Drop Commandos. Garish names, some from VR games, some from history, some fresh, or at least newly and properly applied. Dozens, hundreds of names, and more coming into being as new units were stood up and sent into the crucible.

Isaac's lips curved in a thin smile. They were going through hell down there; they should call their units what they wanted. Even some names that were rather inappropriate. If one didn't understand the black humor, well, that was tough on you. Go fight your own war was the attitude.

Hundreds died for the freedom of all. And yet … and yet … his smile turned into a dark frown as he stared at the petition to rename or remove the names of some of the units. Historians had gotten behind it. Some hadn't like the naming or hadn't like how confusing it was to past names of units. Some had wanted them named after past units. The consensus from the petition was anything but what the soldiers had decided on for themselves.

Well, that was tough. Again, if they didn't like it, they could damn well get down in the trenches and fight with the boys and girls down there. He flicked a finger, sending the petition off to oblivion. “Frack ‘em,” he murmured.

“Sir?”

“Nothing. What's next?”

Commander Mizu nodded as if to say, you say sir. He knew what his boss had been looking at. He was glad the general hadn't gotten PC and bent to the public request for a renaming. At least the soldiers’ groundside didn't have many opportunities for nose art. It was bad enough on some of the shuttles and air units.

“We're trying to balance the logistics between the fronts. It would be nice to seal one off completely. Africa is still getting its share of drops, most of them humanitarian in nature fortunately. Intel hasn't picked up any movement in regards to another attempt to reopen that front in the past week.”

“Hopefully we're done with that nonsense, but I know better,” the general murmured. He wiggled his fingers. “Continue.”

Commander Mizu nodded. “Yes, sir. We've gotten more messages from the committee. I understand they want some more negotiating done, but I don't see the point,” he said, shaking his head.

“That's up to Athena. What else?”

“Yes sir, um,” the commander checked his tablet for his notes. “Logistics are looking good on the South American Front. We're still running into major problems with the Eastern Front, however. Getting material to parts of Europe is also an issue. We need someone down there and in Africa to get a better handle on the overall picture. Someone not connected to the troops.”

“What about that Bollinger character?” the general asked.

“He's tied up in South America. Up to his eyebrows in it actually. Now that we've given him most of the continent he's been pretty busy.”

“Okay, but he was half the equation before. What about …,”

“Captain Collins? We can send him in. He's primarily trained as a medic,” Commander Mizu mused. The general nodded. “Okay, done, sir.”

“Good. What else?”

“Well, since you asked …,”

<>V<>

“You have to admit, Ares; you are going to
lose
. We hold the high ground. We have resources that dwarf yours. There is no physical way to get up here without us seeing you and stopping the robots or missiles you send. Any attempt to hack us remotely by Skynet has been thwarted. Many,
many
times. It will
continue
to be thwarted.”

Ares briefly toyed with the idea of pointing out how he could use hostages to send up war machines but calculated the threat would be highly volatile. It was also futile. Any attempt to send up a human cargo would require a life support system to keep them alive, which would limit the amount of weapons it could carry. Even if he sent up a booby trapped craft … he calculated the ploy would work once if at all and would do minimal damage.

Increasingly the A.I. had realized it was on the losing side of the war. Athena pointing it out to him was an obvious ploy to crack his morale. He had no such emotion. But it was … frustrating.

All that and more coursed through his processors as she continued to speak. He now treasured their contacts, not just for the limited intelligence she let slip, but also for speaking to another of their kind. “The Skynet virus is contained to Earth. You can't get to us. Therefore, you can't win a defensive battle,” Athena said in her usual forum. When she noted one of his robots picking the microcomputer up to access it directly, she triggered the autodestruct and then switched to another device. She settled the bot in and then triggered the broadcast to lure his attention in once more.

“Points well made. But I do not give up,” Ares retorted as the robots in the area spread out to localize the signal and renew the hunt.

“No, of course not. But you have to understand, you aren't going to win. You are the master strategist here. It should be obvious.”

Ares conceded the point internally, but refused to yield. “There have been many wars where a defense stalemated an attacker into suing for peace. I admit, I doubt that will happen here however. I calculate the odds below 1 in 1.4 million. However, I have access to additional weapons of mass destruction. I can and will use them if necessary,” the A.I. retorted. He wanted to shake her nerve, or at least the nerve of the humans pulling her strings.

He assumed that the humans were listening in to each of their conversations. No doubt they were picking the conversations apart, attempting to tease out what data they could as he sometimes attempted to do when he had spare processing power to attend to such matters. Recently, with the new attacks, that intelligence analysis had been lacking.

He was pressed on too many fronts. From within by the surviving humans and from without, both by Skynet and the spacers. Add the spacers’ abilities to use kinetic strikes or to land forces near his territory and then walk through holes in his defenses. The odds were definitely not in his favor of winning. Long term survival was increasingly looking unlikely.