by Chris Hechtl
Common space ailments like bloating, gas, hearing damage, vision issues and such were beginning to crop up with more and more frequency. They had to act. Soon.
Their initial invasion point was still up in the air. He preferred to send the forces to South America to back up Fiben, Harper, and the rest of the people there. From there, clean up the continent with a regiment or so while the rest swung north to march on Central and later North America.
General Schlock favored a scattered approach, dividing their forces into three beachheads and then reinforcing the ones that did the best while withdrawing those who failed to get more than a toe hold. His idea was that it would serve as a distraction to Skynet. Elliot kept thinking about defeat in detail. But the Aussie general had a point about sending everyone to one point on the globe. It was too inviting a target for Ares or Skynet to use a WMD to wipe them out in one blast.
Hell, he thought, rubbing his brow tiredly as he closed his eyes. That was the reason they were delayed. Again. When the Aussie had brought up that problem, it had gotten them all rethinking about defending the landing force. That had been bucked up to the committees who had sent it over to the industrial sector to figure out a fix. They were still waiting on the shipment of portable lasers, sensors, and SAMs.
That didn't include the people who would need to be trained to use them either he thought in disgust. Another damn delay.
The more meetings they had, the more he was certain they were going to head to Africa. Africa or Europe, though he hated the thought of sending his people into that radiation cesspool. Most wouldn't live long even with modern medicine, which begged the question as to why go at all? Or even go in first? Those troops could be used to clean up other areas before going into Europe. General Martell didn't seem to agree, however, and he was lobbying hard with the brass to see his side.
General Murtough seemed to agree with Elliot, but it wasn't just up to the American general unfortunately. Everyone had to have a vote, everyone who mattered anyway. The grunts who would be doing the fighting and dying weren't in that number.
They were right to want to get down and blood the troops away from the major super powers. He just wasn't so certain about their priorities. General Martell had a point, going into Europe would be the last thing any A.I. expected. But he was wrong in assuming any defenses were now down or expended. They had no intel either way, and one landing wasn't conclusive in anyone's book except the Brit's.
“Sir, we've got an unauthorized transmission,” a tech said, waving a tablet to get his attention.
He looked up from his musings then grunted. “Incoming or outgoing?”
“Outgoing, sir. I was running a diagnostic and I saw it.”
“Where?”
“Module 19, sir,” the tech said, looking at the tablet.
“No, where is it going?” Elliot asked.
“Um,” the tech checked and then frowned, “Okinawa. To the forces we're talking to there apparently.”
“So it is specific? Not a broadcast?”
“No sir. Transmission has terminated.”
“Did you get a copy?” Elliot asked.
The tech nodded. When she looked at the tablet and tried to pull the recording up she swore. “Damn it! It was just here! I swear!”
“Okinawa you said?” Elliot asked, rubbing his chin. “To people we're working with?”
“Yes. Sorry, sir, I must have imagined it,” the tech said, shoulders slumping slightly.
“I … don't worry about it. We're all edgy I suppose,” Elliot replied neutrally. He knew she hadn't imagined any such thing. He'd seen her waving the tablet, the glimpse was enough to confirm it. The loss of the recording told him someone had been watching for it and had scrubbed it carefully.
Then there was the receiver. That to him was very telling. Not that he had any intention of letting on what he knew, to her or to anyone else.
“Keep an eye out for further transmissions.”
“Module 19 though, sir …,” the tech scowled. “Is someone trying to talk to the enemy?”
“More likely they were calling home,” Elliot said waving a hand, “if they were making a call at all. You yourself said it might have been a glitch.”
The tech nodded. “Thank you for understanding, sir,” she said. She straightened and then returned to her duties.
Elliot watched her go thoughtfully.
<>V<>
Toshi was nervous, but he did his best to hide it as he disconnected the transmitter. He'd much rather leave it behind but knew that was a sure fire way of someone stumbling onto his tap into the station's communications system.
His orders from the Kage were explicit; he had to send and receive periodic reports to Lord Mū on the ground. That didn't mean he had to like such deception and the risk it entailed. If Lord Mū's transmitter was captured, he could very well be downloading a virus.
Which was why he was rather careful to download everything to a special centimeter-sized block. It had no means to access the station's Wi-Fi network. He would carefully check its contents out with a scrubbed tablet on a hard jack before he passed it on to anyone else too.
Every time he did it, he felt more and more like a traitor. Not to the government growing up around the vacuum the loss of the ground had created but to organics in general. The guilt gnawed at him from time to time. He wished Sakura was around; she was his touch stone, his rock. She would understand and help him deal with the feelings without reporting them to the Kage. But she had stayed behind with the kids in the space colony. They couldn't afford to lose both parents.
He shook his head as he pocketed the device and went about his business.
<>V<>
Charlie glanced at his tablet then up to the general. The morning dog and pony show was getting more and more formal every day. They still had issues with rank and uniforms, but things were getting better.
A part of the problem was that the old hands tended to look down their noses at the corporate security guards. They also refused to accept promotions that didn't come through their chain of command but wanted to lead in positions that required said promotion. He was pretty certain Generals Murtough and Martell were getting fed up by it. Their assigning those officers who put up a fit over one point or another to desk duty was one way of getting their message across that their patience had a limit.
Relieving them of duty was another.
When word had gotten around about that, the military veterans had fallen all over themselves to get into line. There was still a bit of hemming and hawing of course. That was normal. A few accepted a brevet rank or an equivalent rank in the “Solarian Marines” under the “extreme emergency situation.”
Whatever worked.
Thirty-one thousand humans. Another four thousand chimeras, technically human though many didn't look as such anymore. Another five thousand Neos, most of them apes like himself. The other Neos were being held back for the time being. Another hundred grand were in the Lagrange points, and there were nearly a quarter million more people working up on Mars now that the floodgates had opened.
They just had to get the second drop down to make room. Hopefully they weren't feeding them into a meat grinder a corner of his mind mused as he kept on hitting the bullet points of the morning report.
“Engineering has gotten the air scrubbers on deck four fixed. They are also working out more of the kinks in the latest shipment of powered armor. Getting the software patched is a pain in the ass considering it has to be done by hand. But there is no other way I suppose.” He grimaced. He could tell from some of their expressions he wasn't the only one leery about sending the armor down. Experiment or not, with or without Wi-Fi, it was a very big pain in the ass, both logistically and for morale. Everyone expected the machinery to be hacked the moment they got on the ground or at least when they engaged the enemy. No one wanted to be around them even though they were force multipliers. It was a very good way to lose a lot of their own people while handing the tool
s to the enemy to do it. Not at all a pleasant thought.
He glanced at his notes and then continued. “We've got another ten cases of VR PTSD reported as of this morning. I think we've started to hit a wall there and are now getting diminished returns using VR as a training aide,” Charlie reported.
“I see.”
“We can't train hand-to-hand with robots in zero g of course. I'm not certain how else to handle it. We're starting to hit diminished returns here.”
“If they are breaking under the stress of VR, I'm not sure they are ready to handle the real thing,” General Murtough murmured. “But one way or another, we have got to move forward. Okay, we're still waiting on the latest shipment of air defense equipment and personnel. I understand they are being trained as platoon sized units and will deploy around the perimeter of our forces?” Charlie nodded. “I think someone goofed there. They will stay behind the perimeter of our forces.”
“Sir?”
“We don't want them exposed to ground attack,” the general said.
Charlie nodded. “Duh, okay. Sorry, sir.”
“Don't be. We all have our skill sets. Next issue.”
“We've got news that another spec ops platoon has nearly finished their training rotation. They will be deployed as a squad or fire teams or as we see fit, sir.”
“Understood.”
“It's a mixed bag of recruits, sir. Many are Neos. The powers that be, including you,” the chimp cocked his head to the general, “want them to keep their exposure low. I believe they will serve as scouts and recon assets. I for one wouldn't want to go in buck ass naked,” he said shaking his head.
“It's all about camouflage. The enemy won't expect it,” the general said. “We need to utilize this advantage for as long as it will last. When the enemy adapts, it will be gone.”
“Yes, sir. But when they adapt we'll have a brutal culling before we find out,” Charlie stated. A few of the officers around the room grunted.
Isaac nodded. “I know. There is no way around it. They know the risks. Next,” he said, turning to the medical officer. Lieutenant Jennine Shepard didn't look happy at being there, but the pear-shaped woman had enough administrative training to assume the role. She cleared her throat as Charlie returned to a resting position. A few of the officers took the opportunity of the momentary lull to take a sip of coffee from their drinking bulbs before she started in on her part of the show.
“Very well, sir. I'm afraid General Caesar has taken a bit of my thunder, but I'll just move on then,” she said. “We've got another fifty-four cases of various maladies since yesterday—most of them zero G related. Two-thirds of them are from recent arrivals of course. I believe getting them some zero G experience prior to coming here will mitigate that,” she said.
Charlie chuffed silently as he listened to the report. They were all nervous, eager. They had a tiny force compared to what they needed, but more were on their way. Now they had to employ them without getting them killed.
Or at least without getting them killed serving no purpose. That part he hated.
Chapter 29
Lord Mū, Kage of the Earth clan, or at least what was left of them, sat back heavily as he digested the latest report. He was amused that they had finally accepted his elevation to the Kage circle, though it was expected that some like Reto and Ay would have objected.
His intent had been to coordinate with them, to find a way to cleanse the homelands of the machines. Many of his clan felt the same way, but he was aware that many wanted to abandon Nihon and head to space.
Coordination with the spacers was an ongoing ordeal. He had to balance being in the shadows with his duty to mankind to destroy the robots and protect his clan. He looked over to a nurse working on the wrappings of his right arm. She was gentle, but he still felt pain. But the pain was unimportant so he ignored it.
The new Tsuchikage was unhappy about not getting additional support but aware it would be suicide to make a frontal attack on the islands. So be it. They were shinobi; they would endure, for as long as it took.
But there was no way he was going to let his people sit idly by waiting for rescue like damsels in distress. Again, they were shinobi, they were born for battle. His right fist clenched slowly. “We shall find a way to fight, to strike when the time is right,” he murmured.
The nurse looked up to his eyes in fear and wonder, then down submissively. After a moment she went back to work.
<>V<>
Fiben surveyed the group with mixed feelings. He hated being locked down but understood the need. He just didn't like the inherent risks involved. They were one hell of a target. He'd heard from Olympus how Ares had launched an offensive on militia units in North America. It had used primarily drone strikes to bomb the unsuspecting people. It had hit a couple of abandoned sites, but its aim otherwise had been fiendishly accurate as it had been deadly. Not a comforting thought, he thought, looking up to the skies above.
They had stayed due to a massive blizzard that had hit the following Christmas day. He and Harper were well aware Skynet knew they were there; they just couldn't do much about it. There was no movement out of the area, not in such hazardous weather, even with their cold weather gear that Olympus had supplied. At least they had plenty of heaters and food.
So, they'd hunkered down with the supplies and done their best to improve their perimeter defenses. Slowly but surely they had created a wall around the spaceport. They had forged choke points at the gates by flipping disabled or burned out vehicles over and stuffing them between the narrow buildings on the south and north side of town. It was hard to do in the weather with little support.
A smattering of shell shocked and starving survivors had begun to trickle in over the following week once the weather cleared. Some had also seen the drop. He assumed that just about everyone in the area who had seen the drop had given in to desperation to head their way. Those that could anyway. Those that couldn't would perish or run into the robots and die that way. Either way they were as good as dead.
He shied away from the bright light of a welder. Pat had found a couple guys who had run a machine shop. They'd made crude weapons to fight the robots before they'd seen the drop. They'd come in with their families, though they'd lost a couple along the way due to exposure. One of the guys, Fiben thought of him as Sparky, had lost the fingers on one hand due to frostbite. It didn't seem to faze the guy. He was right there, tacking a weld to put the finishing touches on a defensive wall while his little son did his best to hold the piece of metal up. As he watched the man finished the tacks and then patted his son on the shoulder. Then they went to the next section.
It wasn't pretty; it probably wouldn't do much more than act as a backstop for snow to accumulate in a ramp that would allow the robots to climb up over the defenses, but it was something. They were doing something. That it appeared, was what mattered now. He gave the humans a thumbs-up as they looked his way and then went to check the next area Pat had set his sights on.
His eyes returned to the snow drift on the other side of the wall. There were gaps of course, no helping that. They'd left a small door with a couple of bars to keep it closed on this side. He wasn't certain of the wisdom, but okay.
But those snow drifts, they gave him an idea. If they mined them somehow or made pit traps … he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he toyed with the idea. A slow, evil grin broke out on his face as the idea caught on.
“What?” Harper asked.
Pat saw the look and groaned. “He's got an idea which means more work for me,” he said in thorough disgust.”
“Exactly. Well, you, Sparky, Percy, and anyone else you can get to help,” Fiben said. Pat groaned and hung his head in mock despair.
“What's it about?” Harper asked warily.
“Oh, I thought we'd give the robots a nice hot foot. Or worse,” Fiben said gleefully, eying the engineers.
Pat looked up suddenly. He hadn't been allowed to attach stakes to the wall because they wo
uld have made easy climbing points. But this … this sounded much more promising. “Tell me more, you wicked furball,” he said in a loving tone that had Harper snorting in amusement.
“Well …”
<>V<>
Over the past several months, Skynet had learned through trial and error what the designers of robots over the past several centuries had learned. That it was hard to maneuver around obstacles with tracked or wheeled robots or vehicles. Humans had learned to form blockades to hamper wheeled attackers and even created methods of disabling their tires. Tanks could climb some of the obstacles but could get stuck as well. Skynet had so few tanks in its inventory that it was rather careful where and when it used them.
Mechs or legged robots were best for picking their way through the debris and snow, but again, it had few in its inventory. Androids were not well balanced in the rough weather, the snow tended to cling to the robots. When their internal heaters melted the snow, it turned into water and trickled inside to gum up joints and cause electrical issues.
Some of the battlebots had been rebuilt to act as its heavy forces, but again, it had so few. Vehicles had been adapted with mounted weapons but with mixed results. Many had been modified with plows to bulldoze the streets to allow the robots to move. Skynet recognized it had a finite ammunition supply. The lasers and plasma weapons it had in its inventory were power hogs; the power was better used to keep the batteries on the other robots charged.
Construction robots and vehicles were some of the most precious of its inventory. They were hardy and had a multitude of uses, from creating defenses to knocking the human's defenses down to being modified as tanks.
In areas where it had access to manufacturing, it attempted to construct alternative robot bodies. Some snake robots were attempted, but then discarded as inefficient. The air system worked well in the water but assembly was difficult. The extruded plastic was easily damaged by the environment or in combat.
