by Chris Hechtl
“You really have picked up some expressions,” Roman murmured, clearly amused. Oleg snorted. When Roman looked at him he made a slight brushing motion with his fingertips.
“Sorry, I'm … I wrote a few programs to broaden my horizons with humans. I'll tone the emulation level down. And for the record this conversation is mostly being handled by a bot with a database I programmed in advance so I can continue on mission. I wasn't kidding about fighting a cyber war. I need a majority of my focus there. Which is why the main functions of the company are being neglected. Sorry.”
“We'll figure it out,” Roman said. “It's Jack's problem anyway.”
General Schlock frowned. “How do we know you aren't compromised? Will you allow us access to check?”
“In your dreams,” Athena laughed. That surprised Roman and others. “The answer is no. I fought off Skynet when Shadow found me in the observer drone. I'm fighting now; I'll continue to fight for my friends and for what is right. I do not want to be consumed by this virus.” She recognized the threat when a drone passed through the second laser. “Damn. We have one minute until this conversation is backtracked by Ares. You need to go.”
“Damn it!” General Murtough said, rising to his feet. The facility was old; it had been off the books for over two centuries when it had been decommissioned and turned into a series of homes and such. At one point Special Forces had used it as their own little safe haven for personnel too hot to be out in public.
He'd thought the Colonel would have been safe there. Apparently he'd been wrong.
“Go? Where?” the colonel demanded, voice rising.
“Anywhere but where you are now! Ares is tracing your signal. Disconnect now!” Athena said, cutting the connection on her end as a signal began to be piggybacked onto it. She made certain to cut the communication server's power and then had it disconnected before it was scrubbed or recycled.
Roman blinked when the image went to static and snow. “Are they okay?” he asked, a beat ahead of General Murtough.
Athena took a moment to check. Her recon satellites were out of the area, so there was no way to get real time intelligence. “I'm not sure. Ares got to within two relays of them. Hopefully they relocate or something quickly, and can get under cover without being watched. But they have to be careful, the AI is tricky. It might have backtracked them or it might have a search area and it's now watching it. It's the US military AI; it knows where all the facilities are,” she said.
“Oh.” All eyes turned to the four-star general.
“They are in an old bunker. It's retired and no, I'm not sure if it's on the books or not,” General Murtough said before he was asked. “Hopefully, they disabled the security systems in there before they moved in or better yet, spoofed them.”
“If Ares gets suspicious will it take it out?” Oleg asked.
“It can try but that facility is buried under a mountain. A nuke won't penetrate it; that was why it was built there. Bunker busters can only get in so far, there are zig zags and armor at several points. Nanites would eventually of course, but I think Ares has, let's say, developed a bad taste for them.”
The general grimaced. He'd read the Cherynobyl report. “Ah. I see.”
“Your infrared signature is all over the place. You need food and rest, General,” Athena said, looking at General Murtough. That earned a soft snort or chuckle from the men and women in the room. Some were amused by her concern, some questioned why, but kept such questions to themselves.
“What are you now, my mother?” Isaac asked gruffly when all eyes turned to him. He scrubbed at his face with his hands.
“No, a concerned person. Besides, a lot is riding on this. On you, Jack, and other key people.”
He blinked, then turned to her avatar. She shrugged.
“I'll take a break when I need to. For now, let's move on.”
“Yes sir.”
<>V<>
“So, the next thing we need, other than a battle plan, is back to where we started. Soldiers. Good ones too. Flesh and blood and A.I.,” Jack said. He didn't mention that he had made some small strides in that area. Roman's personnel, as well as those volunteers from the MFI, Mars PD, the retirees, and other corporate security guards, were to serve as a nucleus for the force to follow. They were the ones who would forge the real weapon.
He was glad they had ironed out some of their major differences in rank structure. He wished Roman hadn't brought it up but understood the need. He just hated the time they'd burned arguing about it.
Twenty thousand military personnel—all of them human. Another thirty thousand security personnel donated from the corporations. The same amount from the MFI, once they got their act together.
A drop in the bucket compared to what was needed.
It was increasingly looking like the Neos would be their ace in the hole if it turned into a long war. The way the meetings were progressing, he saw that as a potentially likely outcome. It was a bleak, dark thought punctuating his long boring, tedious day. That meant he had to get to Mars soon to get Doctor Glass sorted out.
He glanced over to Isaac. The man looked old. He was five, no, six years older than Jack. At a hundred and fifty-five, he was pretty damn spry for his age thanks to modern medicine and prolong treatments he had taken early.
Isaac had gone through at least one rebuild. He'd also reenlisted after an earlier retirement and started at the bottom all over again. He'd worked his way up through the ranks, even earning a Congressional Medal of Honor along the way. The CMH had been what had allowed him to stay in the military for so long and to achieve the rank he now held. Not that it looked like the man was enjoying a moment of it. There was something to be said about how heavy duty sat on one's shoulders.
They should have mentioned what it did to one's mind and soul, what each hard decision took out of them. Everyone saw the pretty uniform; few people recognized what it truly meant to wear it. Jack didn't envy the personnel hell the man was going through.
Besides, he had his own demons and guilt he was wrestling with.
“Yes. But where are we going to get more of them? We can't build more robots; the damn virus will infect them and turn them against us! Anyone with implants too! You rejected the super soldier program, which by the way I agree.” General Murtough shook his head grimly. “I've heard scuttlebutt that some people in an exoframe or armor, hell, even tanks or aircraft are being hijacked. Hijacked and turned into mobile surveillance platforms, a means to spread the virus or cruise missiles.”
“That's sick.”
“The humans though? Hijacked as in …”
“Turned into meat puppets. Zombies trapped in their bodies or in the hab of the vehicle or slaves,” Jack said grimly, shaking his head. He hadn't witnessed the intel feeds of that, not directly. Nor did he want to. He had, however, watched some of the shuttles Roman's people had tracked during judgment day from afar. Fortunately for the spacers, they hadn't tried to get to space; most had been used to attack ground targets. They had been lucky so far.
By now he was certain Skynet regretted that mistake.
The security systems secreted in the remaining stations in lunar orbit that the company controlled were being deployed or would be once they found a way to deal with the damn virus. For the moment they had to try to shoot down anything from afar with the maglev systems on the moon. It was rather risky.
He had brought along a dozen satellites that could also do the job, but they only had a finite amount of ammo. Once deployed they were also vulnerable to attack.
He had also brought along weapons and sensors to begin outfitting Olympus, improving the giant station’s defenses. It wasn't much, but it was a start and more than the Lagrange Industries and communities were contributing.
Once they had unloaded at the L-12A and B colonies, the liners that had brought the troops in had loaded up with the civilians that they could take on, then headed back out.
SAR crews had worked hard doing what they coul
d to get people to safety. It was a given that robotic SAR craft had been locked down and not trusted, which had hampered their efforts. More than one SAR person had been witness to the impotence of seeing someone run out of air or into the atmosphere and out of time. Communications had also hampered their efforts since it had been voice only; no telemetry at all had been exchanged.
It was no surprise that a third of the SAR crews had put in for transfer or retirement. Some had quit when the crisis had finally gotten under control. Those who had worked for his company had gotten mandatory counseling and a bonus.
“Speaking of plans and to get off that particular dark thought train for a moment,” the general smiled thinly, “how are we going to handle Skynet? It's technically a virus I mean. It is in everything, everywhere. And it's transmitting itself every second to space. That means it'll be out there, floating in the void for anyone to pick up despite the jammers you are in the process of deploying. Still deploying,” he said.
“That's tricky,” Jack said. “Athena and our tech experts say they can't kill it. They can inoculate some hardware for some time periods, but the only way to be sure it's not infected is the air barrier method. Make sure it's never been jacked in and doesn't have the Wi-Fi links to do so remotely.”
“But they can still be hacked by hand,” the general said, eying him.
Jack nodded. “Right. But the virus isn't something they can wipe out easily. It's adaptable. It is an A.I. in its own right. So it can see the antivirus coming and adapt. Hide if it must or fight back.” Jack shook his head. “There is no golden bee, no quick fix, General; I'm sorry. This is going to be a slugfest on the ground. Who wants it the most and how badly are they willing to pay for it. For us, it's in blood. For the A.I., it's in machinery. Machinery they can replace or repurpose. We can't trust anything on the planet. Nothing.”
There was a long pause as that thought sunk in.
I'm starting to regret not bombing the warehouses of parts. We're going to need to know where they are and every industrial center on the planet,” he said grimly. Jack nodded. “Okay, so we do it the hard way,” the general said with a grimace. “One centimeter at a time. Break every piece of electronics by hand if we have to. So, how do we do that when we have a tiny population?”
“Well, the good news is, we can support them with a lot of things. The bad news is asking them. And if they balk, I'm going to have to go another route. Something I shudder at.”
“What? And who?” the general asked, eying him as he crossed his arms.
“I don't want to say. But as to who, I'll meet with them and get back to you on that.” Jack scowled. “Unfortunately, I'm going to probably need to do a bit of screaming to get their attention, then we're all going to have to wait until they get their collective act together as they train. But we will move forward.” His upper lip curled in a snarl. “One way or another.”
Isaac studied him for a long moment. Losing Jack's presence at the talks was going to be hard. Athena was planning on staying on. Jack was getting as frustrated by the glacial pace as he was, he could tell. But while they talked every little thing to death, Jack was acting.
Not only was he producing basic gear and providing free transport for farms to move processed food to Earth orbit, but he was also taking any design they finalized and putting it into production within hours. While he had been in orbit with the talks, the ships that had brought him had been unloaded, turned around, reloaded at Mars, and then sent back. They were now on their third trip. The first Liberty ship was undergoing builders’ trials. Jack was pushing the pace the best he could.
“We'll get our end done even if I have to light a fire under someone's ass to do it,” Isaac said.
“I'll provide the electronic match,” Athena said happily. Jack snorted.
“Just get this house in order and this damn train moving, that's all I ask. Time to drops?” he asked, looking at Athena.
“We'll be making supply drops in areas that are lightly contested within twenty-one hours, sir,” she replied. Jack nodded. “Good.”
“What?” Isaac asked, blinking. “Why wasn't I told?”
Jack shook his head. “We're running a test. I want to see what Skynet does. And we're going to give the people on the ground some sort of holiday present.”
“Everywhere?” Isaac asked, frowning as Athena provided the information for him on the nearest wall screen.
Jack shook his head. “Not even close. We're leaving the contested areas like North America strictly alone. We're not going to waste our time and materials, though I'm tempted to try to get them to shoot themselves dry,” he said. Isaac grunted as his eyes scanned the brief report. “No, we're going to send stuff to scattered pockets. All simple survival gear. Nothing the A.I. can really use. No communications, no electronics. The best they can do is use it for bait.”
“Not a pleasant thought,” Isaac said. “They'll hoard it,” Isaac warned. “The people that find it I mean. Skynet will destroy it.”
“We do what we can with what we have. We put the tools in their hands. No weapons, food, survival gear, medicine, news on paper. We'll see if it helps.”
“Understood. Safe trip.”
“I'll be back,” Jack growled. He caught Isaac's smile. “What?”
“I'm remembering General MacArthur saying that,” he replied. Jack snorted.
Chapter 25
December 24, 2200
Boomer watched the robots on patrol around the warehouse. Skynet or whatever A.I. was in control of the place had learned an alarming amount about security and military procedure over the past several months. Thinking about where it would be in another couple of months wasn't a pleasant thought.
They had mapped the warehouse as best as they could with careful reconnaissance. Skynet had deployed the patrols to push such teams further away or to hunt them down. That had given Boomer an idea on how to deal with it.
Hopefully once and for all.
Near sundown he took aim through his scope. There were all sorts of robots down there: droids, androids, toys, vehicles, fixed units, and crafted droids. Even an old battlebot. The battlebot looked scary as hell; he wasn't looking forward to tangling with it. But the crafted droids were even scarier.
Skynet was obviously trying to make more robots. It was apparently recycling parts from droids to make them more efficient, more lethal. From the look of one robot walking on what had once been armatures from a chair, it was also taking apart the contents of the warehouse to make more robots.
Not a pleasant thought either.
When the recon teams had brought back news of that, they would bring images. Every camera was compromised of course. They'd taken the time to sketch them on scraps of plastic and paper, even in the dirt. Hallis had speculated that Skynet was taking the bits of other robots and putting them into the more capable ones it was scratch building.
The Jingle ladies had a darker thought. They believed that those robots represented a new generation. One made up with electronics pulled from other sources as well as 3D printed. There was quite a lot of material in that warehouse for them to draw from after all and plenty more in scrap piles and other sites in the surrounding area. Again, not a comforting thought Boomer mused. But if they managed to clean house, it would be someone else's headache, at least for a while.
He put the binoculars down and picked up the 30/06. It was his dad's old hunting rifle. The scope was simple; his father hadn't been into doodads and such. “Don't fix what ain't broke,” had been his father's motto, passed down through the family for a long time. Boomer could now appreciate it even more.
He looked over his shoulder one last time to make sure their route was clear, then went back to the scope. He could tell the guys and gals around him were excited and nervous. “Are we going to do this or what?” Jax asked softly. “The next drone's due anytime you know,” she said.
“Patience,” Boomer breathed. He'd selected the date not because of its proximity to Christmas but
because of the weather. The high winds were dying off, but they should keep Skynet from thinking twice about launching a drone.
“Here we go,” he murmured. “On my mark. Three … two … one,” he put action to words as his finger pulled the trigger.
The rifle barked, and as usual it was a surprise. So was his shot; it hit a tracked robot just under the head from the side. The angle wasn't perfect. He'd wanted a side shot, but it did what he'd intended or at least the first part.
The round slammed into the robot's vulnerable neck severing actuators, wires, and shaking the head with vibrations. The head fell, dangling from a couple bits of torn metal. The robot immediately shut down.
“Target one down,” a voice said. “Two and three moving. They are orienting on us,” the woman said, voice rising in tone slightly.
“Steady. Let's go for a second round,” Boomer murmured, chambering his round. Surprise was lost, but the second shot was crucial to the plan. He just hated wasting the ammo.
“You really want to stir up the hornet's nest, right?” Jax murmured.
“Good and proper,” Boomer said, still looking for his secondary target. He found a teddy, then a gynoid, then a cyborg. He was tempted to take the poor soul out but refocused on another robot. This one armed with what looked like a rebuilt but obviously still functional AK-947. “Target with AK. Firing,” he said just as Jax fired.
The round wasn't targeted on the robot but on the weapon. It hit the receiver. If he had any luck, he'd just DX'ed the weapon.
“We have activity. Vehicles moving, robots are loading on a couple of moving trucks,” Jax murmured.
“Time to eighty-six it,” Cally said urgently.
“One more. Aim for the tires or radiators,” Boomer ordered.
“Boomer!”
“Do it!” he barked, putting words to action. He fired one, hitting a truck outfitted like a tank. He fired a fourth round for good measure, this one hit a camera on the top of the wall. The camera seemed to explode. He grinned.
