by Don Foxe
“When those numbers came in, and the UEC saw the majority of the planet’s population supported a mission to free the Fellen, the approval to proceed passed by sixty-eight percent.”
“Now?” Cooper asked.
“We painted the broad strokes for a mission strategy. We now have the personnel, the materials, and the blessing of the planet. I’m not giving the final approval for deployment until you complete training of your air and ground forces. Following training, present a mission plan with a lot more detail than broad strokes. I’m not a politician, Captain Cooper. I’m the Fleet Admiral you are asking to send over 100,000 people to war. I will not waste a single life foolishly. When you can lay it out, step by step, contingency on contingency, plus provide exit strategies for success, partial success, or failure, then I decide yes or no.
“Your request Genna advance to command the 109 was met with a great deal of resistance,” she informed her mission commander. “Captain Falkner Sligh will be assigned command until your return.”
Cooper surprised her by not questioning the decision. He knew suggesting Genna, a non-military, not entirely human asset, command the 109 a long shot. He simply said, “Captain Sligh's command experience of Space Fleet shuttles and crews makes him qualified. I do not know the man personally. I’ve heard only good reports. I’m sure you selected him because he’s competent and capable.”
“I did,” she confirmed. When Coop did not add anything, she returned to the mission.
“I need a realistic expectation of success, with casualties, and collateral damage limited. I want to see rules of engagement for air and ground forces.
“As commander of the mission, your current priority is preparing your personnel for war. We are preparing garrisons and training centers outside of Tatouine, Tunisia. The Hafsid Proving Grounds have been used as a military storage facility for the past two decades. The original training facilities are still there. A month ago, work-crews began preparing it to for reopening. Delivery of your military assets, people and equipment begins now, and will take four to six days. Colonel Gregory and his trainers, selected the 50,000 combat soldiers. Space Fleet HR chose the support personnel. Support troops will arrive within twenty-four hours, followed by supplies. Equipment follows, with everyone and everything on site before the week is out.”
“The fighter squadron will station at the Nevada flight-operations base. You, Hiro Kimura, and Major Shah will select the special operation teams from the volunteer pool.”
Patterson placed her elbows on the desk, clasped her hands, index fingers raised together, then pointed at Cooper. “You will drill your fighters, air and ground, until you are personally and professionally satisfied they can do the job. The you will have to demonstrate their readiness to me. Do you understand, Captain?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Then I suggest you grab your shit, and get to North Africa, Captain Cooper.”
CHAPTER 41
Following the Eastern Pandemic, the subsequent attempt to unify the world under a single governing body required diplomatic and military actions. Northern Africa and the Middle East proved difficult regions to incorporate into a unified planet. Not a surprising situation, when you consider the region’s history.
Hafsid Proving Grounds, twenty miles south of Tatouine, Tunisia served as a training and operations staging facility for the Can-AM Army’s North African Divisions during the unification years. Hafsid remained open following the formation of the United Earth Council. The fort maintained a military presence, and provided training for regional military and paramilitary units. Military specialists tested a variety of high-tech weapons, vehicles, and tactical warfare maneuvers in the sparsely populated southern Tunisian desert.
After closing the installation as a proving ground, the UE military maintained a minimal presence, using the facilities to house equipment. The low humidity, low rainfall, and desert conditions provided an excellent environment for preserving military hardware.
“The shoulder-fired laser rifles are heavy, inaccurate, and a general pain in the ass,” Master Sergeant Radley Byrne said. The Irishman exhibited no qualms reporting good or bad news to his commander-in-chief, Captain Cooper. Byrne, a career soldier in the UE Rangers, never met Cooper before Tunisia, but knew of his history with the US Army Rangers, the Can-Am Rangers, conversion to Space Ranger, Navy pilot and current assignment to Space Fleet. His demonstrated respect in the direct way he spoke to his superior officer. “But they do a lot more damage than a bloody projectile whenever they actually hit something. They also provide greater range, and the grunts don’t have to lug ammo.”
“I miss old-fashion rifles and pistils, too, Master Sergeant,” Coop replied. The two stood on a platform hovering above the firing range. One-hundred fifty experienced special operations agents, volunteers, practiced controlling the laser-fire weapons. “We’ll need to include the older armaments in our stores, but laser-fire pistols, rifles, shoulder-fired missiles and portable cannons are the primary personal arms. How are the hover craft performing?”
“To specs, and then some. They go anywhere, and over anything. UE Vehicle Management loaned us a bit of everything in their garage. Two-person speeders, jeep-sized to bus-sized transports. Drivers, on-board gun operators, maintenance staff and mechanics are getting familiar operating them. One issue, Captain.”
“We’re training in a desert for a fight taking place on a planet, which is primarily one-big rain forest,” Coop answered, before the NCO voiced his concern.
Radley displayed no surprise. In the month working with Cooper, he repeatedly observed the man possessed an innate tactical awareness. Serving someone who recognized dangers, immediate and potential, and adjusted on the move, pleased the Master Sergeant. It also made his job easier. He did not worry his soldiers would be placed in harm’s way due to a failure in planning. All he need worry about concerned training them to work together, operate in teams, communicate and come home after the mission’s completion.
“Correct, Sir. Why aren’t we in South America?”
“Major Shah and Hiro Kimura con-currently train several special operators with jungle experiences in the Amazon.” The information classified, but the NCO deserved answers.
“Admiral Patterson wanted everyone else force-trained first,” Cooper replied. “We have over 100,000 people from around the world. They need to work together, understand the strengths and weaknesses of every unit, know when to follow an order without hesitation, and know when to go rogue. They must display proficiency with the equipment.” This last part said as the two watched multiple laser bursts sail by targets without a single hit.
“When we pass inspection, we’ll spend time in the jungle preparing for Fell. The sooner you have these soldiers ready, the quicker we move to phase two. Where is Col. Gregory?”
“In the desert,” the Irishman replied. “He and Col. Kebede deployed with several thousand for war games. Him against her. Not sure who I’d put my money on.”
Before Coop could respond, his bracelet trans/com interrupted. “Coop, it’s Nathan.”
“Copy, Nathan. Where you calling from?”
“Hafsid. If you land the floating dock, I have something to discuss. Nathan, out.”
The Master Sergeant brought the hover to the surface. Trent made sure the platform securely settled on the ground before stepping forward. Coop shook his friend’s hand, and introduced Space Fleet’s Head of Sciences to Byrne. “If you will excuse us, Sergeant Byrne, I need Captain Cooper.”
The two moved away, allowing the NCO to return to the laser-fire training. Trent’s hover-craft and driver waited. The older man discouraged any talk until they entered the vehicle. It came equipped with the latest security features, including a privacy wall between the rear seat and the driver’s compartment.
“The critical problem we need to address is the numbers,” Trent said. The craft moved away, the driver pre-informed of their destination. “You have 50,000 assault troops. There is no re
liable intel on the current number of Zenge and Mischene on Fell. Best estimate is your forces will be outnumbered five-to-one.”
“Clearly why we need the Fellen’s assistance,” Coop replied. “Major parts of the overall strategy are arming the population, providing basic training, and adding them to the mix.”
“Components that will not, cannot, occur early in the confrontation,” Trent reminded Cooper. “In the beginning, our forces will face the enemy alone. We need to win the initial battles, retake a few strategic locations, and disrupt the enemy forces on the surface. This is assuming Angel-Demon Squadron is able to clear space, and command the skies over the planet.”
“I know the weaknesses in the mission plan,” Coop responded. “The UE Council will only give us 50,000 volunteer assault personnel, and another 50,000 support personnel. We have to pick our fights carefully, especially in the first few days of the ground assault. Anton is working to establish squads, teams, and companies capable of engaging and defeating a larger force. Shah and Hiro are training special operators for infiltration, disruption, and assassination.”
“I may have an additional solution,” Trent said. “Pam had another reason to select Hafsid. What do you think about AWS?”
“Autonomous Weapons,” Coop responded. “Great for defense. Commonly used against incoming missiles or mortars. Set them up, set the parameters, and they defend against intrusions, without the need for personnel. You need to be damn sure your people, or civilians don’t wander into the field of operation without proper identification. AWS systems cannot tell good from bad. You either ping safe, or you get killed. We already have several systems assigned to the mission. Surface-to-Air and Surface-to-Surface. I plan to utilize them to guard and protect camps and strategic sites, allowing soldiers more down time, and time spent in actual battle.”
“Correct on all counts,” Trent replied. “Every single person and vehicle will receive friend-tags. If they come into an AWS protection zone, they will not be fired on. Thousands more are available for you to distribute to the Fellen. What about LAWS?”
“I assume you are not asking about the laws regulating military actions.”
Trent shook his head.
“LAWS, or Lethal Autonomous Weapons, are Illegal. Made so under the Tehran Agreement. Signed by every regional representative, shortly after the UE Council’s establishment.”
“LAWS system were used by a couple of Middle Eastern states following the pandemic. Autonomous and mobile killing machines directed toward Israel, and other less radical nations,” Trent said.
“And a couple of Asian-Pacific players did the same,” Coop reminded him.
Trent nodded. “The systems were programmed by techs more interested in the annihilation of their enemies, than concern about parameters. Many of the LAWS became rogues. Because they were not under control of a human, they were impossible to shut down. Thousands of innocents died. The nation states and the independent operators deploying LAWS did not care. Until a few of the units turned back on them.”
“We had a hell of a time taking them out,” Cooper said, reminding his friend he served in the army when LAWS were legal. “Even aircraft were targeted and brought down by specially equipped systems. A large number of LAWS units avoided air-to-surface strikes, displaying awareness, and sufficient mobility to hide when threatened. The rampage by LAWS relegated artificial intelligence systems to a dark place for a long time.”
“Autonomous Weapons became the nuclear weapons of our era,” Trent said. “Countries banned heavy nuclear weapons over a century ago. Only tactical nuclear weapons below a certain yield were allowed following the Hanoi Agreements. The Tehran Agreement allowed for AWS defensive systems, but banned LAWS programs.”
“The UEC destroyed every LAWS unit on the planet,” Coop added.
“Except a number retained for scientific study and forensic examination to determine why the AI units rouged,” Trent corrected.
The hover-car stopped in front of a once-gray storage facility, burned splotchy white by the North African sun. The two men exited. Trent approached the building. At an entrance, he tapped the wall adjacent the door. A panel slid sideways. He placed his head in front of the exposed section. A scanning beam crossed his face, and the door unlocked.
“After the techs discovered the programming errors, and deliberate reprogramming of objectives in a few cases, the remaining LAWS units entered storage.”
The interior lights came on automatically after sensing the presence of the visitors. A dozen nightmares stood in two rows of six. Mobile LAWS units designated Marauders. Single wide-track drive, metal composite construction, eight feet tall and matte black. At the waist, an adapted laser-beam rifle on each side. At the left shoulder, a miniature grenade launcher on a swivel. Grenades stored within the unit’s shell cycled up and replaced fired rounds. Articulated arms, complete with elbows and wrists, hung from rotational shoulder joints. The right arm ended in an actual hand. It looked like the gauntlet-covered fingers of a Medieval knight. The left arm ended in a blunt metal block, used for pounding flesh, or knocking obstacles down.
Some of the more fearsome LAWS units could emit toxic fumes, gases, and bio-weapons. None of the LAWS stored at Hafsid included mass destruction capability.
“Are you suggesting we take illegal LAWS units, and set them loose on Fell?” Coop asked. “After what they did here? That constitutes a war crime, Nathan.”
“These units underwent complete forensic autopsies.” Trent stood before a frightening visage. The LAWS field combat models, like these, included heads. Designers placed cameras, scanners, communications and various other telemetry inside a container designed to look like a helmeted human head. He held his arms crossed, hands beneath his armpits, eyes intent on the unit’s ‘face.’ A face two-feet higher than the top of his own head.
“Their operational AI software downgraded from self-learning, to self-maintenance only. The LAWS units, without an independent thinking AI, performed every pre-programmed function flawlessly. The rogue units were the result of programmer errors, intentional reprogramming, and AI’s with too much leeway for interpretation of orders.”
“These units?” Coop asked.
“Tested and cleared,” Trent replied. “But because of the Agreement, brought to Tunisia for storage. Highly classified. Over the years, many of the world’s best engineers, and technicians have visited. They check maintenance details, updated software and hardware occasionally. They’ve been kept operational in case of an emergency.”
“I admit they could make a major impact,” Coop said, pacing between the two rows of destroyers. “But there is a major disadvantage. Marauder power cells worked off solar energy. Fell is blanketed in clouds ninety-percent of the year.”
“Did I mention hardware upgrades?” Trent said, walking toward the exit. “These units are retro-fitted with fusion cells. They can last forever.”
Coop caught up with his friend at the door. He looked back, as the door opened, and automatic lights dimmed. “They sure don’t look like the Eveready Bunny.”
“So you’ll add them to the inventory?” Trent asked.
“Nope. We are taking the war to the Mischene,” Cop said. He stooped and looked directly at his friend. “We sure as hell will not export our warcrimes with us.”
CHAPTER 42
“LAWS Marauders? Really?” Anton Gregory sat in a student desk, in the front row of a school room the Space Marines used as a, well, honestly, a school room. Personnel attended school for instruction from jungle warfare tactics, to operating state-of-the-art technology adapted to military standards for the mission to free Fell.
The Proving Grounds housed several school rooms. The time Storm arrived to instruct communications staffers on operating the STORM-HATCH system, the lesson got moved to an auditorium. Everyone even loosely associated with communications wanted to attend the briefing. Some actually wanted to learn about the tachyon-based communications breakthrough.
“Y
ou sound excited,” Coop said. “Big metal men with large weapons turn you on?”
“Maybe,” the Russian replied. “That Marauders give us an advantage. They shift the odds of success in our favor, and that gets me excited. Mobile, single-unit strike force capable of operating twenty-four seven. Autonomous soldiers we send into hot spots, otherwise suicidal for our people.”
“Too bad I’m not taking them with us,” Coop said. Before Gregory could recover from the loss of additional weapons, Trent entering the room, followed by two men and two women.
“Captain Cooper, Colonel Gregory. These fine people represent Trent Industry’s Tactical Armament Division. Dr. Richard Spruce, medical. You both know Dr. Dorra Aziza, chemical and bio-chemical.” The three former shipmates smiled, and nodded in recognition.
“Dr. Susan Fey, textiles, and Dr. Juan Aldez, telemetry.”
Trent no sooner completed the terse introductions, when two Trent Industry security personnel entered. Each wheeled an over-sized container; six-feet tall, three-feet wide, and two-feet deep into the room. They stood the containers on end, then exited, presumably to stand guard at the door.
Acting like a stage magician, Trent opened the two containers, stood back, and held his hands out. He actually said, “Tah-Dah.”
Dr. Fey took charge. “These are Multi-Environmental Tactical Skin-Suits, or METS,” she said, removing an etherial dark-gray six-foot length of material from one container, and handing it to Coop. She presented Anton with one from the second container.
They held the material up. Obviously cut as body suits with hoods, and made from opaque material.
“This entire suit weighs less than six ounces,” Coop said. “Does it serve a purpose?”
“Without getting overly technical,” Fey explained, “METS will keep you warm, if the weather is cold, cool if it’s hot, dry if it’s raining, and prevent dehydration if you find yourself in the middle of a desert.”
