***ANAD has not evolved in the same way, Colonel Winger. Perhaps the human way is a mistake***
That’s when Winger knew that commanding a company of ANAD assemblers would be unlike anything he had ever done before.
“…listen up,” Winger said again. “General Kraft wants us to work out a mission plan for a little cleanup job.” He gave them the reports from Sanctuary Patrol, straight from recon drones and sats.
“The big swarms are on the move again. Sanctuary Patrol is reporting advances out of treaty zones on a number of fronts, up and down the Med coastline, especially northeast Africa and the Levant. There have been some engagements, but it’s like trying to squash a balloon; we stop the bugs in one sector and they move in another. SP doesn’t have the equipment or the tactics we have to deal with large swarms. The big worry now is Cairo; SP’s fighting off three separate swarms advancing northward out of the sanctuary and they’re getting pushed back everywhere. They just don’t have the chops to beat these bots back. So we’re going in—“
“Skipper—“ it was Sgt Sheila Reaves, DPS1 tech for 1st Nano. DPS techs were Defense and Protective Systems specialists. “—anything from Q2 on what kind of bots we’re dealing with?”
Winger waved his tablet in front of a small control pad at the table and instantly, a 3-D image materialized on top of the table. It rotated slowly in space, exposing all angles and surfaces to view.
“Intel’s latest take…this is a bot captured and contained near Khartoum, just before the swarms overran the city last week. It’s at Balzano now and the eggheads are poking and probing every atom, just to see what it can do. It’s a bugger, I can tell you that much. See here--?” he pointed at several effectors near the top of the core. The effectors were unusually articulated, much longer with dense atom groupings hanging off every bend and joint. An array of knobby projections formed at the end of the effector. “Know what that is?”
Troopers moved in for a closer look.
“Jeez, it looks like a fist opening and closing…some kind of grappler doodad?” said Barnes.
“Yeah, it’s giving you the finger, Mite,” Reaves snorted.
“That’s exactly what it is, according to Q2. First time it’s ever been seen on an ANAD nanobotic device. Fullerene carbon graspers. They’re just about as precise and maneuverable as your own fingers, only there’s about twenty of them. This bastard could play a piano if we could make one that small.”
Turbo Fatah just shook his head. “Evolution speeded up inside the sanctuary. Look at how all the effectors are jointed.”
“Maximum packing density…see all the cleaving and folding lines?” agreed Reaves. “This bot could collapse like a tree house in an earthquake. Probably out-replicate us a million times.”
Winger agreed. “Exactly. This is what you’ll be going up against…and there’s probably gizmos we haven’t even seen yet. When SP bots engage these swarms, they get shredded in minutes. It’s not hard to see why…we just can’t match up bot for bot. They can out-rep us and grow new effectors faster than we can. We’ll just have to be smarter tactically.”
Al Glance, the CC2, was thoughtful as he studied the rotating image. CC2 was a Command and Control rating, second in command of any detachment.
“Hey guys, remember your Sun Tzu: ‘that general is skillful in attack whose opponent does not know what to defend—‘ It’s all about deception and disguise. Feints and diversions. Ambush and entrapment. We don’t have to beat the buggers head-on. All we have to do is look like something else, and be where they don’t expect us.”
“Al’s right,” Winger said. “Start getting your gear together. We lift off at 2100 hours tonight for Egypt. Vic—“ he fingered Victor Klimuk, 1st Nano’s IC1 (Interface and Control rating), “you pull every config we’ve wargamed in the last two years at Hunt Valley, especially configs that mask our swarms—the ones where we config as rain drops, dust motes, flies, whatever. Grab all the configs like that and load ‘em in your mission kit. I’m making up a special detachment for this job, so I’ll be running the mission. The rest of you: pull your gear and start packing. I’ll post the assignments in an hour on the basenet. Any questions?”
“Just one, Skipper.” It was Sheila Reaves. The DPS1 was a red-headed chatterbox and the cutup of 1st Nano, but she was also the Corps’ ace Master Marksman in coilgun for four years running. “About our embeds…I mean, you know they’re all ANAD design. And the enemy’s under control of this Config Zero, I guess. The master swarm, the head honcho, whatever.”
“Spit it out, Reaves.”
The DPS tech shook her head, glanced furtively in the direction of Bugs, which offered no visible response…merely a glowing fog floating in the background.
“Well, sir, I mean---just how far should we trust our embedded swarms? You know there have been incidents…corrupted bots—“
Winger knew this issue would come up. He’d been dreading it. Mainly, because he didn’t have a good answer. He could recite the official Corps policy regarding joint operations with nanobotic swarms. But, damn it, these guys were going into combat. You sure didn’t want to drop into a war zone with any doubts about your buddies, human or otherwise.
“Sheila, I hear what you’re saying. Let me put it to you this way: how many years have we been doing joint ops with nanobotic swarms?”
The DPS tech scrunched up her face to think. “Maybe two decades, give or take.”
“And how often have we had to disable the swarms for some malfunction?”
Reaves shrugged. “Maybe half a dozen times…there was that time during the Hellas deal, you know…that asteroid. We almost lost the ship on that one.”
Winger tried to steer delicately around the issue…he had to admit that he had the same concerns. “Okay, so it happens once in awhile. So what? Don’t coilguns jam once in awhile?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Doesn’t Superfly go haywire once in awhile?”
“Sure, Skipper but—“
“ANAD’s a weapon. Weapons jam. Every so often, we have to take it offline and fix it.
How far do you trust your coilguns?”
Reaves nodded, reluctantly. “I see your point, Skipper. We got to do the maintenance. I understand that. But, sir, my coilgun’s not under the influence of somebody else. I got my finger on the trigger…I can take my finger off the trigger. With ANAD, well, sir, he’s autonomous. He thinks for himself. He’s programmed. And with this Config Zero, he can be controlled by somebody or something else. That’s not true of my coilgun…at least not yet.”
Of course, he knew Reaves had a valid point. But Winger couldn’t let the mission get off with the troopers doubting their equipment. And, at the end of the day, ANAD was just equipment. Wasn’t it?
“We’ve got checks, Reaves. Inhibits and safeties. You’ve still got your shoulder capsules…still got containment, right? ANAD doesn’t get launched until you remove the safeties. You give the word. Not until—“
“But once he’s launched, sir, I mean—there’s scuttlebutt out of Sanctuary Patrol of our own bots being turned against us. Sure the bugs can malfunction. Any equipment can malfunction. But to have your gear actively turn on you….with all due respects, Skipper, it gives me the creeps. I’m not sure I want to launch at all if I can’t trust my gear.”
Winger understood. “Reaves, I hear you. I understand what you’re saying. All I’m saying is: yeah, there’s a risk with everything we do. But we got orders. We got a mission. And somewhere over there, there’s millions of people being carved up and swept aside by swarms of nanobots out of control. You took an oath to become a nanotrooper. Now you gotta put aside all those doubts—and we all have ‘em—and stick your nose in the fight. Got it?”
Reaves took a deep breath. “Loud and clear, sir.”
“Now get your gear together and move out…all of you! The jets are inbound for Table Top r
ight now. Pre-assembly on the ramp at 2030 hours.”
With that, Winger left the Mission Prep bunker and walked across the quadrangle to the Ops building, back to his office. He needed to work up the details of the mission plan for CINCQUANT, then draw his own weapons and gear and head out to the Pre-Assembly area by Hangar A, near the North Lift Pad. Hyperjets Apollo and Mercury would be taxiing up to the staging area within the hour.
Back in his office, Winger checked the time for Paris, seven hours ahead of Table Top’s Mountain Time. 1830 hours at UNIFORCE Hqs.
Just about supper time, if I’m figuring right. Winger made the vidcall to Dana and found his wife frenetically busy with Liam and Rene, trying to get more food in their mouths and less on the walls and floor.
Dana Tallant and Johnny Winger had been married for fifteen years now and they’d both come a long way from that little dive of an apartment in Haleyville, Idaho where they’d started out together. Dana had made Lieutenant Colonel just last fall and as an O-5, she’d been TDY’ed to CINCQUANT’s office in Paris as Q3 (Operations), working as a staff officer for General Kraft and the other bigwigs around UNIFORCE headquarters. Just a month ago, she’d been assigned additional duties as staff liaison with Sanctuary Patrol, working directly with General Chekwarthy, the droll Indian officer who was now CINCSANC.
Juggling two jobs and two kids, Johnny Winger could only marvel at the woman’s abilities. Not that he was all that surprised. Even as a cadet fresh out of nog school, Dana had been a helluva nanotrooper. Now, they were separated by five thousand miles, so keeping the family going was tough, but at least there was the Net and there were still hyperjets able to make the hop in about two hours. The kids stayed with their Mom, and Johnny managed to wrangle some liberty time or an official reason to make that hop once or twice a month.
It was no way to live but then that was life in the Corps.
At first, Dana hadn’t heard the chime so Winger had a few moments to watch the scene. Liam was oldest—what was he now?…thirteen. His little sister Rene still had a cute blond pony tail that made Winger imagine her as forever five years old, though she insisted she was almost grown up at 11 years now.
Dana was loudly explaining the finer points of good eating habits when she realized the vid had chimed in and she turned around, surprised, a few errant locks of black hair swept low over her forehead, realizing who had called.
“Honey—Johnny—I didn’t realize---how’d the vid come on by itself---oh, yeah, we programmed it—anyway, hi honey! We’re just having…er, trying to have our dinner here.”
“So I see…Liam…Rene…you are obeying your mother, aren’t you?”
In unison, they chirped up, “Hi Dad—“ Rene left her seat and went to the vid, giving the screen a big smooch.
“Dad, do I really have to go to bed at nine o’clock? I’m practically twelve now. Evie and all the others get to stay up till almost ten.” Her face backed away from the screen with the little pout that always melted Johnny Winger’s heart set on her face.
“Rene, dear, what have I told both of you? Your mom is in charge. You follow her orders. Cadets—“
The pout turned into a lopsided frown. “I know—‘always follow orders’. But Dad—“
“That goes for you too, Liam.”
The boy just sat in his seat stone-faced. Winger understood the feeling. A Mom and a little sister; the kid had no chance.
“Let me speak to your Mom for a few minutes, kids. Dana, maybe they should help with the dishes—“
“John, we just sat down to dinner.” She turned around—“Kids, go bring the rest of the plates in here—and bring some silverware…the ones in the drawer by the oven…not the good ones.”
Both of them grumbled and slinked out of the dining room. Dana turned back to the screen.
“I called to tell you General Kraft’s ordered a mission to support SP down near Cairo. I’m heading up the detachment.”
Dana’s face was stony. Her lips tightened imperceptibly. “I heard about it. CINCSANC’s working up their end now…I’ve got to work up a briefing for him tomorrow morning at 0700 hours. Standard stuff…Quantum Corps tactics, order of battle, how we do things. Kraft will be there too, to answer questions above my pay grade. Johnny, does it have to be you? There’s a lot of good command—“
Winger knew it would come to this. “I’m the best qualified. That’s what Iron Pants wants anyway…you and I both know that. It’s a special detachment, pulled from all units.”
“Including 3rd Nano?”
Winger nodded. “Including 3rd Nano. I know they’re one big swarm, but hell, we’ve fought with them before, lived with them, wargamed with them—“
Dana Tallant wasn’t buying any of that. “You know what I mean. Look, it’s bad down there in the eastern Med. Real bad. I’m Operations but I see the daily intel from Chekwarthy’s people. They can’t do anything against those swarms. This Config Zero’s got them so tight that SP can’t even slow ‘em down. The Sudan, Egypt, Israel…it’s just like a storm that won’t quit. Nothing they try works.”
“That’s why Quantum Corps has to go in. This is full-blown war, Dana and we’ve got configs and tricks SP never thought of. Hopefully, we’ve got something that can block the swarms. There’s talk of a special ops mission too…inside the east African sanctuary.”
“Inside? That’s a treaty violation—“
Winger shrugged. “UNIFORCE is considering it. A small nano-raider platoon, targeting Config Zero itself. Might be the only way.”
“Honey, Johnny---watch yourself, please. I know what’s in the mission package…I had to work up a summary for the briefing tomorrow. But don’t go off trying to be a hero, okay? Go by the book…you have lots of good people…and bots around you.”
“I know. But there’s a lot at stake. We have to do whatever the mission requires. Anyway—“
Dana smiled gamely. “I know, I know…’I’ve got the conn.’ Just watch your butt, mister.”
At that moment, Rene popped her face up between her Mom and the screen. “Daddy, can I please stay up till ten o’clock…please…please…super please?”
“Hey, kiddo,” Winger talked more sternly than he felt, “your Mom’s got the conn. You follow orders, got that? Like a good trooper.”
Rene just hmmpphhed and sank out of sight. In the distance, Winger could see her slinking off back to the table, her shoulders slumped.
“Keep the ship afloat till I get back, Major Tallant. That’s an order.”
Dana half-saluted but made sure the kids didn’t see her with her tongue stuck out at the vid. She swiped at the unit and it went black.
Johnny Winger took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure who faced the bigger battles coming up.
Then he shook off the mood and stood up abruptly, heading back to Mission Prep to draw his weapons and gear. They had a mission and he had to get moving.
An hour later, Winger was deep in thought in his webseat in the forward cabin of hyperjet Apollo, as it rocketed off Runway 04 Right and burned a hole in the night sky over northern Idaho like a meteor in reverse. The trip to Cairo would take maybe two hours, as the hyperjet skipped across the top of the atmosphere like a stone on a lake. Winger figured he’d better sack out and get as much shuteye as he could.
He wasn’t sure what Detachment Alpha was going into, only that a lot of good people had died trying to hold back the swarms. Somehow, some way, Quantum Corps had to stop the bugs.
But sleep wouldn’t come and Colonel John Winger tossed and turned in the sack restlessly for the whole trip. Out the window, it was night and black as coal as they crossed the North Atlantic on the suborbital hop. Only the lights of western Europe…was that London a hundred miles below them…or maybe Paris?—offered anything to look at.
He was edgy and uneasy the whole ride. Uneasy about what they were getting into. Uneasy about how well their own ANAD forces wou
ld fare in combat against the swarms run by Config Zero. Uneasy about what was happening between humans and ANAD, all around the globe.
When the first slight jerk of Apollo’s deceleration jolted him to full wakefulness, Winger was glad. He couldn’t sleep and he needed to get up and get going, move about. He decided to check on the Detachment in the aft compartments. He looked out the porthole. Already a cherry red-orange glow was lighting up the hyperjet’s wingtips as she put on the brakes and plunged back into the atmosphere.
Cairo was less than half an hour ahead now.
Interactions Log
File No. 129315.8
C.F.A.A. (DocII)
Interaction Targets: 1. Winger, Colonel J. A.
Interaction Mode: Acoustic, voice synthetic V-22
Date: 6.5.99
Start Time: 065500
End Time: 065845
Output File (text analysis):
Johnny Winger and the Golden Horde Page 4
