The Nubl Wars (The Pattern Universe Book 3)

by Tobias Roote

  The lack of anywhere to store raw materials meant they had to be removed immediately, so the metal ingots were ‘jumped’ by the localised D-fields built into the general cargo ships carrying the emblazoned star of the SCN, for transport back to Earth. It would be used in the construction of more ships and these spacemen only needed the space, not the materials.

  The wall of rock morphed faster than expected into a cavern. The continually shifting mass of nanites were breeding constantly via construction engines in the corner of the excavation. As they continued to shift material, new nanobots appeared - larger than their tiny cousins - sporting micro-lasers. They worked quickly over the pile of rock, their laser heat welded grains of stone together until the mass become solid again.

  The men continued to look on, totally fascinated at the speed of excavation and construction. They had spent a week planning the project under the watchful eye of SCN Commander Tang and were now seeing the fruits of their labour turn into an outer airlock construction on the edge of the large asteroid. They had named it Hawk because it was in the shape of a hawks head, its beak of rock forming the over-cliff of their current position, providing useful cover in the beak’s shadow that rarely changed.

  By the end of the first day the airlock framework was in place, a solid construction capable of taking multiple blasts from the biggest missiles. Within the complex excavation area grew a mammoth hangar bay. The huge mass of unneeded rock was carried to the surface where fissures and crevices were filled to increase the density around the base.

  Within a week of the outer airlock being installed, the inner airlock was fitted. For fighter access they installed repeller beams to hold back the vacuum of space and pumped in atmosphere from machines manufacturing it.

  The floors were a new material that had been discovered in the Nubl ships. It allowed them to place a current of electricity through the sandwiched alloys, the resulting reaction causing a gravity effect. The level could be set from zero to that of Earth’s at the flick of a switch and as the floors were built, it automatically spread, creating a feeling of being on Earth in a large underground hangar.

  Two weeks later, the carving out of the complex base was complete. Walls had been constructed using some of the rock excavated. Ceilings had been built with complex air ducts and heating shafts built in. Power for equipment and lighting was installed in the manner shown to them by Pod on Alpha Station, and even as the buildings were being finished, the transports began arriving, bringing teams to develop the empty base into an active military installation.

  Because Beta Station had been declared a secret military base, there was no fanfare or ceremony when it was considered complete. Instead the greater portion of the Earth’s SCN forces quietly moved to the base and the development of greater attack and defensive weapons began.

  Pennington had already sequestered his own science teams. Lang was used to working for military bosses after being under Ferris at Fortress. He was, therefore, considered to be the best person to head up the ‘Black Science’ team, as they quickly became known. It was largely his efforts that got the station built this quickly and he was the first one in after the air was considered breathable. Unlike Osbourne, Lang was quite prepared to work without AI involvement and whilst he didn’t believe that they could win the war without them, sympathised with Pennington’s aim. He would come to regret that later, but right now his imagination was in overdrive as he put his teams to work designing new weapons and defences.

  ***

  Jimmi Patterson led his wingmen into the main concourse at Space Island’s Naval HQ where they were met by two security robots that barred their entrance to the main concourse.

  “State your business, gentlemen,” the nearest one asked politely, hovering in front of them while also towering above them. These angle-iron machines were armoured and deadly, left over from the attack by the Fortress. They had been put to use as guards, being ideally suited to the position. Virtually indestructible and fast - very fast - they could take out a small team of assassins in seconds.

  “We’re ordered to report to General Pennington-Brown, Junky,” Jimmi replied cheekily. The robots had no personality so he wasn’t exactly being rude, but perhaps not very adult. He turned, smirking at the other two.

  “Names and ranks?” the robot guard questioned, ignoring Jimmi’s jibe.

  “Squadron Leader Patterson, Flight Officers, Fallstaff and Miller,” Jimmi responded.

  “Proceed to elevator 3. Your arrival time is recorded, you have four minutes to reach reception before an alert is issued,” it said.

  “Thanks, Junky,” Jimmi replied smacking it on the arm as he pressed past it.

  “STOP!”

  The robots whirled on their AG thrusters, and in a well rehearsed dance of hyper speed combined with efficient movement, whipped past them, leaving the three young officers penned between their elongated bodies. Instead of calm and efficient, they now looked lethal and primed for action as they hovered dangerously close to the trio.

  The servos in their arms whined while metallic hands clacked ominously, opening and closing malevolently like lobster claws.

  The one that had initially addressed them, that Jimmi had referred to as ‘Junky’ spoke in an official ‘matter of fact’ tone.

  “I am referred to as Guardian Telot by my superiors and my commanding AI. The rank is superior to yours.” It paused for effect then dropped its bombshell on Jimmi.

  “I require you to salute me before I let you pass.”

  Jimmi laughed nervously and looked around. People were already paying attention. He had no idea what to do, he’d never come across a robot with a rank before and he didn’t believe it now. He looked for someone who might be operating it as a prank, not unheard of in the SCN. He decided to call its bluff.

  “You’re kidding me? There is no way you’re ranked higher than me, impossible! Move aside I have an appointment to keep.”

  “SCN regulations state saluting a superior officer is required. Comply - that’s an order,” was its only response.

  “I don’t think so, you hunk of steel and silicone..“

  “You’d best do as it says, young man. It outranks you considerably,” came a voice from behind them.

  Jimmi whirled to face the new arrival who had come through the doors and was now being held up by their argument. To his chagrin, he was facing a general with three stars.

  The General pushed through to walk past them, saluting the metal guards, he offered his credentials.

  “General Wagner, for the SCN security conference, I’m late,” he said swinging around scowling at the three pilots.

  “Enter, General, have a good day. I have notified the secretary of your arrival, you’re expected in three minutes 42 seconds, sir.” The robot moved aside. They both saluted in response to the General’s, then turned back to the three gawking officers.

  Jimmi had got the message. He’d made a fool of himself and now everyone was watching to see them get whipped by a sentry bot. Humiliated, he realised he would now have to grovel - to a machine!

  “Beg your pardon, Guardian Telot, please excuse our ignorance. It won’t happen again,” Jimmi blurted out, at the same time giving a vigorous salute.

  The guard dropped its head down to Jimmi’s level and looked him in the eye. Jimmi could see deep into its artificial iris and thought he detected keen intelligence hiding within. He resisted the urge to shudder. The robot was seeking any body language that would indicate that Jimmi wasn’t taking the matter seriously. When it was apparently satisfied that Jimmi was being respectful, it returned to its erect pose, still towering menacingly above the three pilots and saluted in return.

  “Very well, proceed to your appointment. You are now late and have three minutes twenty seconds to arrive at your destination.”

  They saluted again hurriedly, and the two robots swung aside to let them through. As they rushed for the main elevator section, they could hear the two robots chatting behind them.


  “The name Junky actually suits you, Telot,” one said to the other, “you should change your name.”

  The sound of two robots sniggering was something that Jimmi was not happy to hear. He looked back nervously as Mike proceeded into the lift that was now waiting for them.

  He knew they were laughing at him. He couldn’t see the desk staff laughing, or the General smirking as he went off in a different direction.

  “OK, you three, at ease,” Pennington said. He’d met them at the lift having been warned by Guardian Telot of their arrival and the issue of rank. He explained on the way to his office that it was an odd regulation, but after senators and generals alike had tried to bullshit their way into the HQ, it was decided that something was required to enforce respect for the security at the gate. The guards were provided with unique positions that outranked all comers regardless of status so long as there wasn’t a countermanding order from the resident HQ duty officer.

  “They never pull rank unless disrespect is indicated,” he informed them scowling slightly at Jimmi who had the decency to look embarrassed. Pennington saw the lesson had been learned and relented, indicating they should take the seats that had been put out for them.

  His previously tiny office had been long superseded by a gigantic meeting room that doubled as his operations room where he discussed strategies with all his staff. He was always pretty busy running the air, space and land forces and it was getting harder to keep up with everything, which meant more and more delegation of responsibilities. One thing Pennington-Brown would never relinquish, however, was the Space Navy.

  He sat quietly assessing them while they remained still and on edge. Nobody had told them why they had been summoned, but they had decided it wasn’t anything good. In addition, they were still smarting over the incident with the Guardian in reception.

  “We have a problem within the Marauder fighter squadrons, I believe,” Pennington finally began. “The AIs and the pilots seem to disagree on the way the craft should be flown and this has been raised by one of the pilots directly with the SC committee, going over my head to do so. The Committee immediately responded by issuing an edict to protect the pilot’s ego to the detriment of their life and that of the AI, not to mention the sacrifice of a perfectly brand new fighter aircraft,” he said.

  Nobody said a word.

  “Right, so it’s been left to me to decide on a way forward out of this mess that is getting perfectly good, but obstinate pilots killed in action. I need three volunteers and I’m reliably informed by flight control, that you are the best candidates, a fact borne out by your AIs who also put you forward as the best choice for an experimental human/AI modification.”

  “What sort of modification, sir?” asked Freddie who had suddenly gone quite pale.

  “The same modification that is being used by Admiral Callaghan for keeping in communication with the alien AI and the Alpha Station AI. More of that alien technology, I’m afraid,” he explained.

  Pennington came around his desk and leaned back against it informally. He didn’t want to make the next part seem like an order, although he could make it so. The necessities of wartime provide the legalities to get anything done regardless of human rights and personal desires, but he didn’t intend to force this though, hence his desire to keep the meeting informal and easy.

  “We need you three, if you agree, to have a small chip embedded in your heads so that you can learn to communicate directly with your AIs,” he said, matter of factly, as if he was just asking them to step out of the room for a moment.

  “Sir, will that mean they can read our thoughts?” Freddie asked dubiously.

  “Hah! No, at least I’m assured by the Admiral that he only opens communication with his AIs when he needs to, or they can do the same for him. Apparently, it’s much like having a comms unit implanted in your head, but without the annoying ring tones.”

  Jimmi thought about working that closely with Vasha. They already had a great relationship and Jimmi couldn’t see it being a problem if they could converse quickly and exchange data. He was inclined to accept, but wanted to gauge his friends reactions to the idea first. He looked at them.

  “What do you think?” he asked sounding non-committal, carefully trying not to influence their thinking himself. They would naturally follow his lead and he needed them to make their own decisions. He didn’t want a case of ‘ we did it because you wanted to’. This was too important,. The fact that they had been called into the top man’s office showed this was a major project. Jimmi wasn’t stupid all of the time, he knew instinctively when to take something seriously.

  He decided to play for time. “Sir, is there any more you can tell us about any side effects, long-term problems, or issues.”

  “Yes, me too. I’m interested, sir, but I’m not sure what it means to have this done. I would like more information,” added Freddie.

  Mike looked at Jimmi and Freddie and smiled. “I’m all for it, General, anything that keeps the chatter down between this lot is good for me.”

  Pennington laughed. “Yes, there will be that, of course. It will be interesting to see if flight briefings run quicker without all of the interruptions from the crews.

  Well, if you’re all game to find out more, why don’t I send you up to Alpha Station and you can discuss your concerns with Admiral Callaghan yourself. He expressly asked to be informed when a choice was made,” he said as he walked back behind his desk and pressed a button on his comms.

  “Yes, John?” came the voice of the legendary man, Zeke Callaghan, now Admiral Callaghan and in charge of all procurement for all land, air and space development.

  “I have the three recruits you asked for. They’re in my office opposite me,” Pennington stared, beckoning them to stand up, knowing what was coming and not wanting them to fall on their asses.

  “Well, let’s get them up here, shall we? Standby, lads,” the voice commanded.

  ***

  As Jimmi re-materialised, the difference in gravity and the physical reaction to being in a new location startled him, and he stumbled, not quite falling over. He regained his equilibrium using his pilot’s natural ability to acquire balance and caught the eye of the other two.

  “Shoot me! That was much more fun than doing it from inside a ship,” he said with feeling. He was checking himself out to see if everything was in the same place.

  Freddie laughed at him. “You sure they didn’t leave anything behind, like your brain?”

  Jimmi smiled looking around him. They were in an office, with two doors leading out, and a glass window. He was immediately impressed when he spied a control room with massive full-sized wall screens of the asteroid they had come to know as Alpha Station.

  “Hey guys, guess where we are?” he called them over.

  “Hey, I recognise this place,” Mike said excitedly.

  “Yeah! It’s that asteroid they hollowed out and put a world inside,” Freddie confirmed.

  “That’s a good way of describing it, Officer Miller. You’re on an inside world here, there are currently over two hundred thousand people on this station, crew and support staff with their families, and you’re about to become three more of them if you want to go ahead with this project.” Admiral Callaghan had quietly come in through the door behind them.

  As they leapt to attention with full salutes, he waved them away and gestured for them to take seats that were available around a table in the middle of the office.

  “I’m going to get straight down to it. General Pennington is impressed enough with your records to volunteer you for this modification which is NOT, I repeat NOT, an experiment. I have used this device for several years and it is an essential requirement for myself and my AIs to communicate. I can assure you there are no side effects and plenty of advantages.” He eyed them all before he sat back assessing their confidence, then continued.

  “The procedure is three-fold. The first thing they do is make a small incision into your skull
and pump in air through a tiny pre-shaped balloon. The balloon has nanite contacts that will generate a link between the device and those aspects of your brain that deal with visual and audio communication. That takes about an hour to set up, but will improve over several weeks as your body links to the comms device and learns to use it. The next stage is for Arty or Pod to de-materialise the unit and transport it into the space left by the balloon. Lastly the hole will be sealed and a small antenna inserted flush with the skull, but under the regrowth of skin that will improve the reception and transmission range. That’s it.” The Admiral finished his short, but informative explanation.

  “How do you actually ‘talk’ to your AI?” Mike asked.

  “Well, it’s a little difficult at first, it’s like there is a switch inside your head which you operate by thought. That is - you think about it being on, and it switches on, the same for off. The unit is designed to listen for those commands, and many others too. You will find that you can communicate with any AI after a while; you just have to learn how to operate the switchboard inside the device.” He smiled.

  “What about talking to other humans through the device?” Freddie asked.

  “Hmmh! Interesting question. I will let you know when I find someone to talk to,” he grinned then added, “You do realise that I’m currently the only person with one of these gizmo’s inside my head, don’t you?”

  They all laughed at that. It had seemed like a good question at the time.

  “Well, what do you think?” Zeke asked.

  Jimmi had decided. “I want it, sir, but only because Vasha... my AI and I, get on very well, and I know that, if he has recommended me for this, then he thinks it will help us.”

  The Admiral nodded, then looked at the others.