Warborg - Star Panther

by Olson, Ry

  “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!” Admiral Smyth jumped up, sending his chair spinning. “Go! Go! GO!” He bellowed, waving his arms in the air. He tore his eyes away from the holotank to the stunned officers. “I can’t believe it, that crazy son-of-a-bitch did it! The killer ship is dead and we own the Koth armada, baby,” he howled.

  Even before the others could react, automated battle reports started scrolling down the wall displays.

  . . .

  Martin’s reverie was shattered by Prowler’s scream. “Take’em out, fella.” Even to Martin’s heightened senses and knowing what Prowler was going to do, the attack was too quick to follow.

  . . .

  Prowler fired the type three missile, and the missile was actually moving in the launcher when the Star Panther jumped. The missile was leaving the launcher, but still inside the FTL field when the Star Panther dropped into normal space less than twenty meters from the Koth killer ship. An infinitesimal tick of time later when the missile hit the edge of the FTL field Prowler initiated the jump to leave, knowing exactly how much lag there would be between the command to jump and the ship FTL system actually responding. The Koth defensive systems never reacted to an unexpected, but friendly ship that the damaged sensors detected for a split second. Five milliseconds after the Star Panther jumped the missile hit the killer amidship. The one kiloton pseudo nuke vaporized the center of the killer sending the ends spinning into space.

  . . .

  Even to Martin’s enhanced senses the Koth killer just seemed to explode. Prowler was finished with the killer ship before he could fire the interceptor pulse from his canister floating loose in the Omega sector. It was almost surreal when the thousands of Koth FTL field signatures surrounding him echoed back. The interceptor pulse microjumped him just clear of the Koth armada. My god. The thought had barely started to form when the three hundred plus Mark eleven reconnaissance drones dropped into normal space and self destructed. Another microjump and he was clear of the battle zone and headed toward the Star Panther.

  . . .

  With Martin’s interceptor pulse Prowler sensed the location of every ship in the Koth armada and initiated the next phase of the attack. But this wasn’t the Prowler aboard the Star Panther, this Prowler was a clone of the AI running in the EDC’s huge, ultra fast computer network. In less than a millisecond it had a comprehensive map of the Koth ship locations, downloaded jump coordinates to the drones to maximize their effect and commanded them to jump. Meanwhile another part of Prowler analyzed the Koth FTL signatures and identified each ship type. Using this information Prowler determined the optimum deployment of the human warcraft. He was finished downloading individual jump coordinates to each individual ship and targeting data to the missile cruisers before the drones self destructed. Less than a tenth of a second passed from the time of the interceptor pulse to Prowler dropping back into alert status.

  . . .

  The Echo two strike fighter squadron leader waited patiently for something to happen. Waiting is always the hardest part. He looked at a ship floating next to him. Poor kid, first time out and it’s into this insanity. “How you hang’in kid?”

  “I’m ok, Sir.” The voice showed a slight unevenness. “Is it always like this, I mean the waiting?”

  The leader smiled. “No son, usually it’s boring as hell.”

  “Is there really anything out there, Sir?” The voice was getting more even. “I don’t see a thing.”

  How do I tell the kid there’s a huge fleet out there and we’re probably going to get waxed. “Command seems to think so.” He laughed. “You had the same briefing that I did.”

  “All ships this is EDC Central.” A smooth voice rolled from the command channel. “Stand by for attack. We expect bogey one to drop into normal space in the next sixty seconds. And good hunting people. EDC Central out.”

  Good hunting? The squad leader shook his head. This just gets weirder and weirder. “Okay guys, lock and load. They said we may get split up, if we do watch your backs. Remember the briefing, go after the big guys, inflict as much damage to as many ships as you can, concentrate on their FTL field generators. Don’t get bogged down, once a ship is crippled move on and let the missile cruisers finish the job. Evade their fighters if possible and let the lights handle them.” He paused. “Good luck.”

  There was a murmur of acknowledgment, then silence as they waited.

  The squad leader was startled when his instrumentation went crazy. A second later the sector was full of Koth ships and a jump coordinate appeared in the FTL display. He did a double take on his sensor monitor. There wasn’t a live FTL field anywhere in the Koth. “Oh my God, they’re trapped in normal space. Lieutenant, just keep jumping and firing. Go guys, hit’em before they can recover.” He jumped laughing almost hysterically tore into the hapless Koth heavy missile cruiser that appeared right in front of him.

  . . .

  The war room hung in stunned silence as the battle wound down just minutes after the killer ship triggered the attack. The officers gawked at the scrolling displays, not believing what they were seeing. The displays stuttered to a stop.

  A major cleared his throat. “I guess I can understand the Commander Cobb’s of the world a little better.” He smiled. “All this because of a single warborg?” He shook his head in disbelief.

  Admiral Smyth frowned and spoke softly. “Warborgs are ferocious, deadly fighters, but they live, fight and die just like normal men. And like their non-cyborg soldier brethren they do as they are told, just trying to survive, to live and fight another day. Except this one it seems, he’s a soldier scholar from the old school, who studies his opponent, treating them with respect even as he fights them. We could all learn from this Major Morgan, in fact we already have. What we’ve seen is the marvel of medical and computer technologies change a fine soldier into the epitome of a warrior.” The frown shifted to a sly grin. “No gentlemen, the Koth weren’t facing a warborg . . . they were facing THE WARBORG!” The room echoed with the force of Smyth’s statement and faded to an introspective silence.

  “Well said.” Admiral Chelle nodded. There was a murmur of agreement from the assembled officers as they started to examine the data from the battle.

  One of the wall displays beeped and started scrolling. “What the heck?” Chelle muttered. “Who’s fighting, where?” His eyes opened wide. “Oh Jesus, Major Morgan’s in a fight.”

  Admiral Smyth stepped over to the holotank. “I don’t believe it, he’s in a fight . . . in his bucket?” His voice rising at the incredibleness of the concept. “What’s our closest asset?”

  “Five minutes.” A major spat.

  Smyth’s mouth fell open as Martin’s bucket continued on its way leaving behind a dead ship of some sort. “Well, whatever happened he’s leaving the area.”

  Admiral Chelle shook his head in wonder. He looked over at a major. “Have someone check out what he shot up and escort him . . .” His voice tapered off as he realized they had no idea where Major Morgan was planning to go, or what he was going to do. It had never come up in the briefings.

  “We have a squadron of strikes en route, Sir. Should I contact Major Morgan directly?”

  Chelle thought about it for a second, he glanced at Admiral Smyth who gave him a slight shake of his head. “No Major, I think Major Morgan would contact us if he needed to. Just send the fighters.”

  The major smiled at the decision. “Very well, Sir.”

  A few minutes later one of the wall displays switched to the cat, it looked into the room with huge yellow eyes.

  The intelligence Commander turned to the cat and after a second smiled. “Hey, look who came to visit.” He paused in thought. “Well done, pussy gato . . . and thank you.” He bowed slightly to the screen.

  “Here, here.” Admiral Chelle smiled and he too gave a nod.

  Each officer at the table offered their thanks to the AI in their own fashion, one even giving a soft “meow”. Last was Admiral Smyth, he was too chok
ed up to speak and simply gave a tight, solid thumbs-up followed by a crisp salute.

  The cat answered them with a happy chirrup and with a wink faded from the screen.

  “The AI has exited the system.” A major reported looking at his display.

  “No,” the intelligence Commander corrected quietly, feeling an irrational tear form. “Prowler went home.” He was answered with a sanguine silence.

  39: A Man and His Cat

  “Major Morgan, I assume.” The squad leader chuckled as his fighters pulled up around Martin’s canister. “Zulu one here, Sir.” He reported more formally.

  “Well, small universe after all.” Martin laughed.

  The leader grew more serious. “Are you ok, Sir?” He hesitated. “We found the Koth ship you tangled with . . . or what was left of it.” He finished drily, eyeing Martin’s little ion cannon.

  “Oh, I’m all right.” Martin sighed. “Koth surveillance ship dropped in to check out me an’ my little buzz bomb. I was going to ignore them until the dumb shits took a pot shot at me.” Martin held out one of his appendages with the end partially blown off in disgust. “Pissed me off. All I was doing was waving at ‘em.”

  “Ahhh, I’m glad to hear you’re ok.” The squad leader floundered. “EDC noted your skirmish and wanted someone to check on you, we volunteered.”

  “You waved at the Koth ship?” The female pilot snickered and stifled a giggle. “I don’t suppose it was more of a one fingered salute.”

  “Well, I guess it could’a been.” Martin guffawed in evasive innocence. “Who knew they’d take it so personal?”

  “Awwww geez,” she laughed. “I told you guys he was still a perv . . . even if he is a tinman.”

  “A perv,” Martin wailed in slandered indignation, then laughed, “oh wait a minute, I resemble that remark.” He sighed. “They wanted to take my head off with the next shot; I just didn’t give them the chance.” He hesitated. “So how was the show back there? I missed most of it just trying to get the hell out of dodge. That was no place for me in this. I imagine everybody on both sides was shooting at anything that moved.”

  “Pretty much, that was some serious nasty.” The squad leader wheezed. “I don’t know how many ships the Koth lost, but it was a bunch . . . a really big bunch.” He laughed.” I guess we should thank you. We went in as a group and took down a fighter base, a heavy battle cruiser and two heavy missile cruisers, along with a jumble of smaller stuff.”

  “Yeah, it was crazy in there.” Another fighter pilot added. “Man, we’d barely get clear from a target when one of our missile throwers would flash through and completely toast’em.”

  “Oops, hey guys, my ride’s here.” Martin stated.

  The squad leader glanced at his instruments, they showed nothing. Yet, when he looked out of his cockpit he could just barely make out a shadowy outline against the stars in the background less than twenty meters away. His instruments insisted that only the four fighters and Martin’s canister were in the area. He watched in fascination when the canister simply vanished, knowing the Major had entered his base ship.

  “Ok, I’m home guys . . . and thanks for coming out to check on me.” Martin sighed as he started the yacht simulation and sprawled into the lush captain’s seat.

  “It was our privilege, Sir.” The squad leader responded.

  “It’s been a hell of a day guy’s. I think I’m just going to go out and soak up some of the quiet for a while.” Martin commented. “Watch your backs, Star Panther out.” He looked at Prowler lounging on the co-pilot’s seat. “Take us somewhere quiet.” He scratched Prowler’s ear. “Nice job little guy.” Several minutes later he awakened when Maria’s arms hugged him from behind as she leaned over the seat back. “Hey there.” He greeted sleepily, putting his arms over hers. She rested her cheek on top of his head with a sigh of relief.

  . . .

  “Roger Star Panther, Zulu one out.” The squad leader replied.

  “He’s already gone.” The quiet fighter pilot stated.

  “What, when did he leave?” The female pilot asked. “I didn’t see a damn thing the whole time his ship was here.”

  “Right after he signed off, I think.” The other pilot shrugged.

  “I saw it, I could just barely make it out against the stars.” The squad leader offered. “My instruments never did though. Spooky stuff.”

  The quiet pilot gave a low laugh. “If you saw the Star Panther feel privileged. You’re one of very few.”

  “That has to be the scariest thing I never saw.” The female pilot snickered.

  “If you think he’s scary, just imagine what the Koth think.” The quiet pilot commented.

  . . .

  The war room was empty except for Admirals Chelle and Smyth sitting at the cluttered table. “Something’s bothering me, Chelle,” Smyth sighed.

  “Hmmm, what’s that?” Chelle muttered feeling the post battle let down.

  “It’s the attack on the Koth armada, have you reviewed any of the deployments?”

  Admiral Chelle looked up with growing interest. “No, sorry, I’ve been concentrating on trying to get the mess in the Omega sector organized. I never in a million years thought I’d ever be trying to get over a thousand dead Koth warships rounded up.”

  “Yeah, I guess that doesn’t happen everyday . . . dammit.” Smyth laughed then grew serious. “You and I working together couldn’t have organized it that well with a month’s planning. Chelle, that AI took things into account I never would have thought of. Its deployments were utterly vicious, that alone probably accounts for half of your dead Koth.” He waved at a wall display. “Look at that. Eleven hundred and sixty two Koth destroyed . . . with at least another eight hundred damaged. And look at what they are, most of them are the biggest and the baddest the Koth have to offer. In fact, analysis shows they lost every fighter base and heavy battle cruiser they had. And we lost what, a two hundred some odd fighters and a single light missile cruiser. And we lost the cruiser due to an equipment failure at a bad time.” He paused to catch his breath. “That cat knew exactly what he was doing, and he did it real time. I’m sorry, but that’s way beyond what any piece of programming could accomplish.”

  “Ok, so let’s ask Major Morgan about his AI.” Admiral Chelle shrugged.

  Smyth considered Admiral Chelle’s suggestion for a moment. “No, I think not. When the fighters reported in after checking on Major Morgan they commented he was going out for some R and R. I think we owe it to him to leave him be.” He tapped out a sequence on a table display.

  . . .

  Commander Briton appeared in a wall display and looked down at the two officers. “Admirals.” He nodded a greeting. “What can I do for you?”

  “Commander,” Admiral Smyth smiled, “have you heard from Major Morgan?”

  “Yes Sir, he reported in a few minutes ago. Except for some minor damage to his container and being light the type three missile he and the Star Panther came through unscathed . . . ” Briton laughed shaking his head, “as usual. He was very complimentary of your troops, by the way.”

  Chelle smiled with raised eyebrows. “I appreciate that, they did a hell of a job.”

  “I agree,” Smyth added and grew serious. “But they couldn’t have done it without the Major and his AI.” He took a deep breath. “Commander, what’s the deal with Morgan’s AI cat? I deal with artificially intelligent entities all day, what that cat did was way beyond anything I’ve ever seen, or even heard of.”

  “I don’t understand the question,” Briton replied with a poker face. “Sorry, Sirs.”

  Admiral Chelle studied Briton for a second then reached over and tapped out a prolonged sequence on a display adjacent to him. All the wall displays except for Briton’s filled with white noise as did the ones on the table. Only the one he typed on stayed live with a small password verification window showing over the background hash. Briton’s display flickered a couple times. “Commander, you have secure direct link wi
th no transcription devices.”

  Smyth looked at the other Chelle with raised, questioning eyebrows and nodded for him to continue.

  “Commander we could confiscate the AI and analyze it, but I’d much rather do this quietly in a manner beneficial to every body. Whatever you tell us is off the record.” Chelle winked at Briton. “In fact there is no record of this communication ever happened.”

  Briton contemplated the pair of Admirals. “Sirs, this isn’t just off the record. This is beyond eyes only, it goes no further than you two.” He sighed, realizing how melodramatic he was sounding. He rubbed his forehead in frustration caused by inner conflict.

  Chelle had an epiphany. “Major Morgan doesn’t know, does he?”

  “No, we don’t think so.” Briton answered quietly with a slight shrug. “But with him, who knows.”

  Admiral Smyth smiled and turned to his counterpart. “Hey Chelle, you remember any conversation with Commander Briton about Prowler.”

  Admiral Chelle grinned. “Nope, sorry Joe, can’t recall a thing.”

  Briton smiled his relief and gratitude then grew serious. “Major Morgan is an outstanding officer and personal friend. I would face insubordination charges before I did anything that could endanger him.”

  “We understand.” Smyth nodded solemnly.

  “Did you, by any chance see the report from Morgan’s encounter with the interceptors in Koth space.” Briton asked.

  “Yes I did, amazing.” Smyth shook his head. “I couldn’t believe he got out of there in one piece.”

  “Frankly neither could I, Sir.” Briton shook his head. “Let alone the fact he made a mockery of what should have been an insidious trap, leaving behind several dead Koth for their effort. So I started analyzing what he had done to escape. Oh, the strategy and tactics were pure Major Morgan, but Prowler was operating of his own volition much of the time. You could see Morgan’s fine tuning here and there, but basically that fight was all Prowler.” He settled in his chair. “So I started reviewing all of Major Morgan’s operations and it became clear the level of Prowler’s involvement is increasing . . . dramatically. Further analysis shows that Prowler was changing, from an advanced level nine AI into something else. He was using Major Morgan’s vicious cunning and tactics, even modifying them to fit the situation of his own accord. In many ways Prowler was becoming more dangerous than Major Morgan himself.”