Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War

by Chris Hechtl

  “You sure? The stairs …”

  “Them I might skip,” Fiben admitted. “Get going,” he said. Harper nodded and took off at his usual pace. From Kelsy's expression he should run but he knew better. Running told people that something was wrong. He did pick up the pace, however.

  “What?” he asked as he got to her. She pointed to the tower top. “Call from higher,” she said.

  “They beat me to it?” he asked. She shrugged.

  He took the stairs as quickly as he could. His species still had shorter legs than a human so he couldn't take them two at a time. But he still managed to get up the stairs fast.

  He smiled to Asa as he came into the room. He nodded to the pilots then to the radio. It seemed they were all enthused that they had gotten an unexpected call from orbit.

  “This is Harper. I was about to call you. We've been in a recent engagement—four fatalities, six injured.”

  “Sorry to hear that, Harper,” a familiar voice replied. “Logging that now.” Harper pursed his lips. Apparently Olympus didn't want the details either. “Now go take a look outside at the sky,” Elliot said.

  “What are you talking about? That orange shit you said to look for?”

  “That and more,” Elliot said as he disconnected the link on his end. Harper frowned as he hung up the microphone. When he looked to the others, they shrugged.

  They went outside and scanned the horizon. It wasn't until they saw something break the clouds that it dawned on them. Then they began to cheer.

  While they cheered the first massive parachute opened up. It was a giant wing; it seemed to steer to their position. “Damn,” Harper said, looking up to it as Pat jumped for joy. It looked like the guy was doing some sort of flying kick.

  “Merry freaking Christmas,” Fiben said, coming up beside the chimp. He looked at the others. “We've got to unload and then move out.”

  “Why?” Harper asked, frowning as he turned to the other chimp.

  “Because.” Fiben said as he pointed to the incoming drop. “Those things are coming to us. Directly to us. That means every robot in the area who sees it are going to know someone's here. Which means …”

  Kelsy's face fell. She grimaced and then nodded. “We're a target,” she said bitterly.

  Harper caught on and nodded. “Right,” he said roughly. “Where the hell are we going to go though?” he asked, waving his hand to the airport.

  “Frack,” a voice said behind them. Harper turned to see Baxter standing there behind him. The guy was practically in tears. Fiben turned back to him then away. He wuffled a few times. “We're so screwed if we move,” Baxter growled, hefting the arm still in a sling. Fiben looked down to his wounded leg.

  “My sentiments exactly.” Fiben looked up to the sky. “They meant well,” he murmured. “But we're not going anywhere. Not anytime soon,” Harper said.

  <>V<>

  Packages were dropped in Africa, Europe, South America, and Southeast Asia. Unfortunately the UK, North America, Russia, China, India, and other regions still had active defenses so they had to be passed by.

  The people on the ground were given only minimum warning. Skynet had surviving radar in some of the areas but didn't know the significance of the drops initially. When it did it dispatched forces to take or destroy the contents. That sparked fresh battles all over the globe.

  <>V<>

  Ares noted the date and its significance. Tradition dictated America did not fight on the major holiday. Therefore it was a day of weakness for the humans. The A.I. noted the drops across the planet. Those were outside its jurisdiction so it logged their locations but then ignored them.

  It had spent some time gathering intelligence on where its greatest threats were within its own AO, then moved forces in to assault points to use to engage them when it was ready. It launched its assault at midnight, when their guard was down accordingly.

  <>V<>

  Boomer grimaced as he took another sip of tea. It was from a reused bag; there was a lot of that going around lately since the supply was cut off. It was marginally better than reusing coffee grounds, however. Marginally.

  Besides, it was hot, which was great on an evening like they were experiencing. He looked out. It was dark, quiet, and most of the people were sleeping. They'd celebrated quite a bit once the fighters had gotten back. Tomorrow they would go back to the warehouse to pick over the spoils.

  He imagined they'd do that for at least a week, perhaps more. Then he would need to spiral out, take out other clusters of robots, while linking up with other survivors.

  He looked over the trailers to the greenhouses. He snorted as a light came on, lighting one of them up. Obviously someone was awake, most likely Molly. She loved to dither over her precious babies.

  They finally had enough housing for everyone. He looked over the trailers once more. Some were motor homes, others were cars or vans. Two were pieced together manufactured homes, taken apart from the outskirts of town and brought in.

  There were tarps and sheds connecting some of them. A shanty town was growing up in his parent's back yard and front lawn. The main house was surrounded by them. The same for the barns, though they'd left a road to the garages.

  He was too wired to sleep. That sometimes happened after a battle. He'd gotten everyone taken care of, made certain the robots had been smashed, then they'd loaded up with everything they could carry to come back before midnight.

  “Merry Christmas,” he muttered. He inhaled over the steaming cup, pressing his hands into the ceramic to drink in the warmth before he took another sip. He felt the warm liquid course down his throat to hit his belly. It felt good, damn good.

  “Merry Christmas!” Roger said in passing, waving a hand.

  “You are still awake?” Boomer asked, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard. Roger spun in place and then made a theatrical shrug. “Had to piss and my bunk doesn't have a porta potty.”

  Boomer snorted. At least the kid was using the latrine he thought as he saluted him with the cup and turned back to the perimeter.

  Something, a small sound made him look around to the sky a short time later. That was all the warning he got as the main house and trailers exploded. Instinctively he ducked, cringing and looking back to see the cluster munitions going off, tearing his parents and friends apart.

  “Son of a bitch!” Boomer snarled, throwing the cup away as he turned hating eyes to the sky. Now he knew what the towel heads had felt when a UAV had struck them from well outside their range. Impotent. Rage. An inferno of range matching the one warming his backside.

  <>V<>

  Skynet observed the destruction. So did Ares, who judged the mission complete despite the virus's desire to send the drone in to finish the job. It had only so many cluster munitions so Ares wisely pointed the drone to another target. That got Skynet off his back for the time being.

  Once the munitions were expended, it would withdraw the drone. But it wouldn't send it out again until it had done a proper assessment of the damage everywhere.

  <>V<>

  The attack on the Aspin farm had been brutal in its devastation, not just physically, but mentally as well. Those out on the perimeter had turned inward to see what they had been guarding—their families, friends … all turned to dust. More than one person had committed suicide in despondent surrender to what they saw as the inevitable.

  Boomer held no such feelings. His eyes stayed away from the craters and shattered remains of his family's farm. Instead, his eyes roved the few survivors. Roger, Two other guys he barely knew, Mick, Cally, Jax, and Molly. Hallis, Shawn...his parents... they were all dead.

  He turned bitter eyes on the wreckage as he watched Roger and Mick pick through the debris with the forlorn hope of finding someone, anyone. From the bleak look Mick had on his tear streaked face, they were finally catching on there was no one else to find. Even those people who had been in the basements had died or been crushed.

  “We didn't stand a chance,”
Molly murmured, hugging herself. She leaned into his side. He wasn't in the mood for comfort, for giving it or accepting it, but he wrapped his arm around her anyway, for warmth if nothing else. “I'm sorry about your parents,” she murmured.

  “Me too,” he murmured. “Me too,” he echoed again, giving a sigh as he put the ghost to rest. He knew intellectually it wasn't his fault. There had been no way for them to pick up what was obviously a UAV bombing run. No way. But it still bothered him.

  He watched as Jax and Cally picked through what gear and survivors they had found. It was some sort of luck that Jax and Cally had scrounged the four snowmobiles he thought, looking at the things. Brand new, never used until a few days ago, dragged out of the warehouse and pieced together by a now deceased Sora Jingle. Best not to think about it, he reminded himself as he felt a brief stab of pain at their loss. His eyes fell on the white machines. Good to go. They had a full charge too.

  “Get what you can. Gather the food, weapons, water, and clothing you need. Fifteen minutes and we are out of here. Before the drone comes back to finish the job,” he growled.

  That threat got them moving quicker. He grunted as Molly squeezed his bicep, looked up to him, and then moved away, ducking her head as she went to pack.

  Fifteen minutes later they were ready. He nodded to them. It would be tight, but they could do it. Fortunately the girls were light and small, they could ride triple on one of the machines behind Jax. Jax and Cally had rigged sleds to be towed behind each of the machines to hold their excess gear. Boomer wanted to object but stopped himself. They were wise to do it. He just hoped they had packed smart.

  “Mount up,” he murmured.

  “Where are we going?” Cally asked, strapping a helmet on.

  “South.”

  “South? As in to a warmer climate? Suits me,” she said with a nod.

  “Just south,” he said with a shake of his head as he loaded up. Molly wanted to ride behind him but he shook his head. He had enough to deal with. She seemed disappointed but resigned to following his orders and not testing his patience. Good, he thought.

  Another thought hit him as if out of the blue. The ham radio was gone. “We're on our own,” he muttered. Roger glanced at him. There had been no warning, no sign of an attack. Nothing from higher. He knew intellectually it wasn't their fault, but deep down he wished someone had seen something. That someone had been watching his back. His parent's back. They'd been in bed; the main house was a memory.

  He didn't even have anything left to bury.

  “What are we going to do?” Roger asked when they stopped. He could tell Boomer was consulting a map. He wasn't very forthcoming on where they were going however.

  Boomer's outlook was bleak. They had no shelter in the area; the Amish community nearby had been taken out by Skynet early on. They had taken shelter in the barns for a time as they regrouped. Now he needed to come up with a plan. The problem was, nothing was coming to mind. Well, only one thing actually.

  Who was it who said it wasn't his job to die for his country? That it was his job to make some other poor sob die for his? Cute, but not very accurate. But the idea of taking the robots out, at hitting back, now that was appealing.

  “Go down fighting,” Boomer growled.

  “I'd rather not go down at all myself,” Roger said dryly eying him.

  “Then don't. I want something though.”

  “Want what?”

  “Revenge,” Boomer snarled coldly as he restarted the engine of his machine and took off. After a moment Roger and the others followed.

  “Merry fricken Christmas,” Roger said bitterly into the cutting wind, then ducked his head to concentrate on his driving.

  Chapter 27

  December 31, 2200

  Reports of Are's full court press were not for pleasant reading. It bothered him, but other concerns demanded his full attention. Jack shook his head as he stepped off the shuttle and into the dock. His usual security detail formed up around him.

  He'd taken the yacht back. He'd traveled light too, and he'd had the crew haul ass making a new speed record. It was nice but he was fairly confident that if they switched to antimatter and got better force emitters into play they would be able to transit the star system in under a week.

  At least that was what he was eventually shooting for.

  “The office, boss?”

  “No, we're heading direct to my biggest headache. Confront him in his lair,” Jack said grimly. He had returned to Mars largely for that one reason. Catching up and getting things sorted out that had piled up were a secondary concern. He planned to get a status update, give them his version of what was going on at L-5 and then coordinate with the leaders that had stayed behind tomorrow.

  Today he had to deal with a certain furball who was playing games.

  “Doctor Glass,” Jack intoned in a resonant voice as he entered the genetics lab. Wide-eyed interns and other personnel pointed in the same direction. Jack nodded and marched onward.

  Doctor Glass looked up at the murmur. When he heard a familiar voice, he flinched then smiled grimly. What was about to happen wasn't going to be pleasant he thought. But he'd done the right thing; he'd stalled for the right reasons.

  “Here,” he said as he handed the tablet he'd been looking at over to Kira. “Make sure the next sequence is checked thoroughly. Watch for errors in the second pairings.”

  “Yes, Doctor,” the intern said. She nodded, turned a look on Jack and then departed.

  “I'm here for a progress report, Doctor,” Jack said. “I've been reliably informed you've been misappropriating company resources. That ends now,” he said.

  The doctor looked from Jack to the guards around him. His lip curled and his fur rose, but he merely nodded. “In my office then,” he said with a hand wave to his office.

  Jack grunted. That office had once belonged to his wife before he'd fired her. Did the doctor think he was immune when Jack's own wife hadn't been?

  Once they entered the doctor went around the desk to sit. “What's this about?” he asked.

  Jack looked around the room. “You've redecorated,” he said, starting off on a different heading and throwing the chimp off balance. He did get a kick out of the hanging bars in various places on the ceiling. Either the chimp was a gymnast or he liked to swing like a gibbon. How he got up there was an interesting question. Glass had rather short legs, an oversight for his generation.

  “So?” the chimp asked, looking around. “I forgot we usually teleconference,” he muttered.

  “I used to come here more often. When my wife was in charge. You know, before I had to fire her,” Jack said, turning his eyes back to the chimp.

  That little reminder brought the chimp's threats and expectations on how the confrontation would go crashing down around him. He blinked, taken completely off balance.

  “You can't. I've got too much work here. Besides, I'm a share holder,” he said, recovering. He jutted his chin out at Jack.

  “So? So am I. I can fire you if I wish, Doctor. You are disobeying a direct order and misappropriating company resources for your own ends.”

  The chimp's eyes went wide. “But … but … we have commitments!”

  “To what? To make sure someone gets pink fur? A different eye color? Doc, you damn well know better! We have a commitment to the future! To survival! Not to you futzing around and puttering away time when we have so little of it!”

  “But … but I thought you'd find another way,” the doctor said lamely. “Gestation will take so long.”

  “I didn't. I knew it might be trouble; that is why I put you on your project early.”

  The chimp blinked. His mouth puckered in a sour expression. “Oh.”

  “Every minute you've wasted fucking around means lives lost. That's on you,” Jack said coldly, staring directly into the chimps eyes. “You. Doctor. If you had gotten your act together, we would be halfway there by now, not playing catch-up.”

  “Okay.”r />
  Jack scowled. He wasn't really in the mood to give the chimp a second chance, but he was the best now that Aurelia was gone. “You'll get on board? I honestly don't know if you are the right person anymore, Doctor.”

  “I'll do it,” Doctor Glass ground out. “I'm not happy but …”

  “Doctor, I keep telling you that they aren't slaves. They aren't. They are people. I have every intention of making that a reality. They will be treated as such, as you are treated. If they choose to enter the military, they will get all the benefits of the same. You were too stupid to listen to that part,” Jack snarled.

  “Now wait, that's unfair,” the chimp said, fur rising.

  “Oh no? You got on your high horse and tuned out everything I said. I told you, people. I don't understand why I have to keep drilling it into thick heads. People,” Jack said, throwing his hands up in the air.

  “If you hadn't needed them, they would have been aborted,” the chimp said, lifting his chin.

  “So better not to start at all?” Jack eyed the chimp. “No, Doctor. Had you started and we had found it unnecessary I wouldn't have aborted them. Not unless they were not healthy. And that would have been your call. The program would have been curtailed, but those in the wombs would have been supported and raised as people.”

  “Oh.”

  A long fulminating moment passed between the two men. Finally the chimp cleared his throat. “It seems I misjudged you,” he said grudgingly.

  “Unfortunately, I did the same. I thought you could be trusted, Doctor,” Jack replied. The chimp winced. “I know you are holding out an olive branch. I don't care. Fix it. Today.”

  “I'll … see what I can do,” the doctor said.

  “Crash priority. All work stops. Work whatever shifts you have to. The same for all involved. You've got a lot of catching up to do. I want tangible results tomorrow, Doctor. Preferably today.”

  “I … I don't even have a plan,” the chimp's eyes were wide as he looked around. He licked his lips.