Crozier had not been happy. He didn’t exactly blame Andrew - there were plenty of people there to blame - but Andrew did feel guilty that he hadn’t thought of that potential problem. That was part of his job, after all, to ask the simple questions and find the obvious flaws that the scientists and engineers had overlooked. Up until now he’d been pretty good at that.
Baldwin was already at work designing a set of retractable braces which could be deployed from the sides of the vehicle to prevent that from happening again. But the Little Davids were going to be sent west without waiting for them, with strict instructions to only fire with the turret pointing forward.
Andrew sincerely hoped that today’s test would go a lot better.
“All right, I think we are ready!” shouted Schmidt suddenly. “Let’s go!” There was a flurry of activity around the controls and the vehicle eased into motion. Smoke billowed out of the stack and Andrew could feel the vibration of the steam turbine down below. It had an entirely different feel to it than the reciprocating engines of other warships he’d been on; just a steady vibration instead of the thump, thump, thump of enormous cylinders.
The USLI-001headed down the ramp at far less than a walking pace. It could go faster, but they were taking this delicate operation slowly. While they waited, several enlisted men began handing out life jackets - just in case, they said. Andrew eyed the gray waters of the Delaware flowing past in the distance. A few chunks of ice were floating on the surface. He was slightly reassured by the lifeboats carried on the auxiliary hull unit up ahead. He sure didn’t want to go into the water!
Crozier walked around the upper hull, peering over the railings to look down at the monstrous caterpillar tracks, slowly turning. “Hell of a thing, isn’t it?” he remarked to no one in particular.
The forward pair of tracks reached the water and started down in. Another fifty or sixty yards and they’d reach the hull. Andrew wanted to see just how it would be attached and secured. He knew that it had been painstakingly engineered to avoid any possibility of it ripping loose even in rough seas. And yet it had to be easily detachable once the land ironclad reached its destination.
The tracks were nearly submerged when the vehicle suddenly stopped. A Baldwin worker on a telephone shouted for Mr. Schmidt who rushed over and grabbed it away from the man and listened for a moment and then cursed.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Schmidt?” asked Crozier.
“Motor Room Number 1 is flooding! A bad leak! Reverse! Put it in reverse!” he shouted to the man at the controls, handing back the phone. Levers were thrown and the ironclad lurched abruptly backward, up the ramp. But they’d only gone a few yards when there was a sharper jolt and they started twisting to one side. There was a muffled screeching sound from up forward.
“It’s shorted, sir!” cried the man on the telephone. “Track 1 is out!”
“Keep going! Get us out of the water!”
Andrew ran to the forward railing. Yes, the front track on the left side wasn’t turning, it was just being dragged along by the other three. The ironclad pulled itself up the ramp, continuing to twist around a bit, despite attempts to use the other tracks to keep it straight. Finally, they were completely out of the water and Schmidt gave the order to halt.
Workers dashed here and there and disappeared below or arrived on deck to cluster around Schmidt. Through it all, General Crozier stood immobile in the center of the deck, a scowl on his face growing darker by the minute. Finally, Schmidt came over to him, and Andrew edged closer to hear.
“I’m sorry, General, the vibrations of moving must have worked loose some of the seams. Water got into the motor room of the forward left set of tracks. Fortunately, no one was hurt. But we’ll have to replace the electric motors before we can try this again.”
Crozier remained silent for a very long moment before replying. “This is unacceptable, Mr. Schmidt.”
“Yes, sir, I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Sorry won’t kill any Martians. How long to fix this and how are you going to make sure it doesn’t happen again?”
“Probably about a week to pull the motors and replace them. We can inspect the watertight housings at the same time and do what we need to do to make them secure.”
Crozier’s expression was darker than ever. He swiveled his head around like a gun turret looking for a target. Unfortunately, his gaze came to rest on Andrew. “Comstock!” he snapped.
“Sir!” said Andrew coming to attention.
“We need these things at the front,” he said very slowly and very clearly. “I am putting you permanently in charge of seeing that it gets done - soon.”
“Yes, sir. Permanently, sir?”
“Permanently, Colonel. You are now formally attached to the 1st Squadron of US Army Land Ironclads until such time as I reassign you. Stay here. Stay with them. Get them ready. Get them into action. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
“Good. Carry on.” Crozier turned away.
Andrew looked helplessly at General Hawthorne, his immediate superior - and his father-in-law. The man chewed on his lower lip for a moment and then said: “I’ll tell Vickie to send you your things.”
* * * * *
Cycle 597, 844.9, Holdfast 32-2
Qetjnegartis sat in its travel chair inside the large underground machine hangar in the second holdfast. Several fighting machines stood nearby, but Qetjnegartis’s attention was fixed on a score of much smaller machines arrayed in two rows. Ixmaderna, in its own chair, was speaking: “As you can see, Commander, the small drone fighting machines function very well. Each one has a scaled-down version of the heat ray, which although small, is still completely lethal against the prey-creatures - I tested it on some captives to make sure. It will be less effective against their armored vehicles, but given time or numbers, could also destroy them. They also have a manipulating tentacle which is equipped with a sharp blade to allow it to function as a weapon at close quarters.”
“Yes, I see,” said Qetjnegartis, “and they are small enough to fit into restricted spaces and dig out the prey-creatures. How vulnerable are they to damage?”
“Obviously we cannot armor them as heavily as our fighting machines, but they should be resistant against the weapons carried by the enemy foot-warriors. The prey-creatures’ heavier weapons will be able to destroy the drones, but their small size will make them difficult targets.”
“What about their speed and endurance?”
“They are necessarily slower than a fighting machine, but since these are intended for assaults rather than raids or pursuits, that should not be a liability. Their energy storage cells are also much smaller due to their significantly reduced power demands. Fully charged, they should be able to function for thirty rotations of limited action, and perhaps four rotations of intense combat. They also have a charging umbilical which will allow them to replenish their energy from other machines.”
“That is all good. But what about controlling them? That will be the key, it seems, since they are not self-directing.”
“They have a limited self-directing ability, Commander,” said Ixmaderna. “They can be ordered to move in a certain direction or to a certain point, or to simply follow the controller’s own machine and they will do so, adapting their movements to the terrain. There is no need for the controller to direct every aspect of the machine’s motion.”
“Similar to the mining and construction machines, then?”
“Yes, the same principles exactly.”
“So basic movement, but not combat?”
“Combat will require a more active participation on the part of the controller, yes, although the cutter-blade can be set to an automatic pattern of movements which create a deadly zone around the machine if the operator’s attention is needed elsewhere. But picking targets and firing the heat ray will require direct commands.”
“How many drones could one of us control at once?”
“I have been conducting trials
, Commander. With practice, an operator can control between five and ten of the drones simultaneously. Interestingly, I have found that our younger members, the buds who matured here, seem the most adept at this.”
“That is interesting,” agreed Qetjnegartis. “But I am assuming that when fully involved in commanding the drones, the operator would be less able to control its own war machine?”
“That is true, although depending on the tactical situation that might not be a problem. But allow me to demonstrate what we can do.”
“Proceed.”
Ixmaderna contacted the operators in the two war machines and they activated their drones. The machines, small and large, began to move and went up the ramp leading to the surface. Qetjnegartis and Ixmaderna followed in their travel chairs. On the surface, the drones fanned out and began firing their heat rays at various patches of ground and waving their manipulators around. There was a covering of frozen water on the ground which erupted in gusts of steam where the heat rays touched it. Then the drones repositioned themselves around the controlling machine and assumed different formations, moving precisely and in unison.
“Impressive,” said Qetjnegartis. “Actually employing them effectively in combat will require practice, I am thinking.”
“Yes, that is certainly true. Perhaps we can find some small group of prey to attack and test out our methods.”
“Perhaps. But the Conclave has suggested that we not deploy the drones until we have them in sufficient numbers for a major attack so as not to give away the element of surprise and allow the prey to develop countermeasures.”
“It is certainly true that the prey-creatures are adaptable. They have developed many new weapons and methods just in the short time we have been here,” said Ixmaderna in agreement. “But perhaps we can improvise some training exercises in the ruins of the two nearby cities. At least get the drone operators used to moving and working inside the prey-creatures’ habitations.”
“That is an excellent idea, Ixmaderna,” said Qetjnegartis. “Develop a proposal for my review.” Holdfast 32-2 had been constructed in the area between the two prey-creature cities which had been overrun during the clan’s great offensive almost two local cycles earlier. While much of the useful materials in those places had been salvaged, there were still substantial ruins which remained.
“I shall do so at once, Commander,” said Ixmaderna, clearly pleased. “There is one other thing I would like to show you while you are here, Commander, if you have the time. I realize that with four holdfasts to administer, your time is precious.”
“It is true that traveling between the holdfasts is time-consuming,” said Qetjnegartis. “I hope that someday we can connect our holdfasts with an underground transport system such as we have on the Homeworld.”
“It would be a massive undertaking, Commander, but surely worthwhile.”
“Yes, but there is no hope we can divert the necessary resources to it while the struggle against the prey-creatures continues. But in answer to your invitation, I can certainly make time for whatever it is you wish to show me.”
“That is most kind. Please, follow me.” Ixmaderna turned its travel chair and led the way back down the ramp into the underground portions of the holdfast. As they did so, they found themselves following a harvester machine. This was a modification of the basic fighting machine, which was designed to capture and transport prey. While it did have a small heat ray for self-defense, it had additional manipulator arms to seize prey and a large detachable cage for storing them mounted to the rear of the cockpit. The cage on this harvester was only about half full.
“Hunting does not appear to be good,” remarked Qetjnegartis.
“Well, it is the local winter,” replied Ixmaderna, “and many of the creatures, both intelligent and non-intelligent, spend much time in sheltered locations, rather than venturing out. But you are correct, Commander, large creatures of all kinds are becoming rare in the areas close to the holdfast.”
Qetjnegartis paused to watch the harvester being unloaded. It was spending most of its time at the new Holdfast 32-4 and none of the harvesters had been constructed there yet.
“If you please, Commander, move back a bit,” said Ixmaderna.
“Why?”
“For your safety. I have received reports from clans on the First Continent that some of the prey have concealed chemical explosives on themselves and then detonated them when they are brought to the holdfasts.”
“Indeed?” said Qetjnegartis, hastily backing off its travel chair.
“Yes. The reports state that the prey in the eastern regions of that continent are fighting with a fanaticism and disregard for their own self-preservation unlike anything seen before.”
“There have been no incidents of this kind here, have there?”
“No… if one discounts the flying machine which crashed into Hablantar’s fighting machine recently…”
Qetjnegartis contemplated that incident. It could have been an accidental collision… but perhaps it wasn’t. “So what steps are you taking to safeguard against such an incident here?”
“As you can see, the prey-creatures are being stripped of all items they carry and their artificial coverings before being sent to the holding pens.” Indeed, a manipulator machine was doing that now and the prey-creatures were making loud noises in apparent fear or protest.
“Why not do that upon capture instead of waiting until they reach the holdfast? Does that not put the harvester as well as the holdfast at risk?”
“We had been doing that, Commander, but it appears that the prey are not adapted to the low temperatures of their winter season. We did strip them in warmer temperatures, but when we tried that in lower temperatures, most of the them were dead by the time they reached the holdfast. Perhaps if we constructed heated holding cages we could solve that problem. Oh, pardon me for a moment, Commander, I will be right back.” Ixmaderna moved its travel chair forward to converse with the one operating the manipulator and soon returned. “I noticed that one of the females had a young one and directed that they both be sent to my laboratory rather than the usual holding pens,” it explained.
“And I assume that is what you wished to show me? Your experiments with the young prey?”
“Yes, indeed, If you’ll come with me.” It turned its chair and headed into the main corridor which circled the holdfast. Qetjnegartis followed. They went down several ramps to the lower levels and eventually reached Ixmaderna’s labs. These were quite extensive now and had a number of people working there, Ixmaderna’s buds, mostly, and buds of the buds. Four holding pens were located at the far end of the complex. One held five adult prey-creature females and nine of the very young ones. As they watched, the newly captured female and its offspring were deposited in the pen through the hatch in the roof. It was shrieking so loudly it could be heard faintly even through the thick transparency. The other females paid it little heed, except for one which went over to it.
“Due to the complete helplessness of the infant prey-creatures, it is necessary to keep a number of females to feed and care for them.”
“The one on the left appears to be carrying an unborn bud,” said Qetjnegartis, pointing at one of them. “Am I correct?”
“Yes, and from my observations it will probably give birth quite soon. It is an interesting process. I have a visual recording of another birth if you are interested.”
“Perhaps at some other time. This next pen has somewhat older prey.”
“Yes, in hopes of training these creatures to obey us, I wished to remove them from the influence of the adults at as young an age as possible to prevent them from learning anything from their parents which might contradict our training. Finding the proper age to do this has proved challenging and is largely a matter of trial and error.”
This pen had fifteen of the little creatures. Some were just sitting or lying on the floor, but others were running around and interacting with each other, although the purpose of the inter
action was not readily apparent. “What are they doing?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” replied Ixmaderna. “They will do this at times, chasing each other, sometimes even striking each other, although not to inflict serious injury, I don’t believe. But observe.” It touched a control and a row of lights appeared along the rear wall of the pen. The prey immediately noticed and all of them, even the ones who had not been active, got up and ran over with the others. Each one positioned itself directly in front of one of the lights. There was some pushing and shoving but shortly there was one creature in front of each light. Then a small panel slid aside beneath the lights and the creatures grabbed something inside and put it in their mouths.
“You have trained them to respond by feeding them?”
“Yes, it works quite well. It accustoms them to respond to certain signals. This has proved useful in the next stage.” It moved to the third pen. “Here we are training them to do more complex tasks in order to be fed. We are combining the visual signals of the lights with audible messages in our language.”
“And they are responding to that?”
“Sometimes we use visual signals alone, sometimes audible ones alone, and sometimes together. They respond to the lights very well, the audible ones less so. It is difficult to judge how well their hearing organs receive our speech. Nevertheless, they are responding to our orders - at least in simple ways.”
“And in the fourth pen?” asked Qetjnegartis.
“These are the oldest ones and the most advanced. Unfortunately, due to the short time I have been conducting these experiments, these creatures were taken from their parents at a much older stage than I would have wished, so it is impossible to know how much they might have learned from their parents and how that might taint our results. However, they do respond to orders very well. Notice the collars they are wearing. They can deliver a painful electric shock on our command, so we can use both positive and negative reinforcement to their behavior. Their comprehension of spoken commands appears to be growing as the training continues.”
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