Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War

by Chris Hechtl

  “Sir, we're still having issues with the tigers,” a harried tech said over the intercom. “They won't listen to anyone on duty now.”

  Roman scowled. “What's the problem?”

  “They won't go to bed.”

  He checked the clock. It was near 10 p.m. “Cats are flexible about their sleeping arrangements. If they wish to be up, leave them be. Are they waking the others?”

  “No, sir. But they want to prowl. And that Khan!”

  “He's a leader. See if you can direct their attentions.”

  “Sir?”

  “Set up an obstacle course for them. A place to explore that they can't get into too much mischief. Monitor them remotely. Let them think they are skulking around.”

  “Yes, sir. But that undermines our authority …”

  “Yes, and we'll deal with it. Right now we want them to develop their initiative, to learn their limits.”

  “Yes, sir,” the confused voice replied. After a moment there was a click.

  Roman shook his head. Tygra was a good sort but still a pain in the ass when Khan got involved. Khan was a schemer. Definitely officer material, though he had a bit of a sadistic streak. They tended to tussle when Khan wanted to do something that would harm someone else. He made a note to break the setup, to expose Tygra to other influences before he became too much of a follower of his brother.

  “Computer. Note to Lieutenant Claudis. Look into nocturnal habits of the cats. Find them something to do, even if it is to teach them to sleep when they should. Note ends. Send,” he said.

  “Note sent,” the computer said in a flat voice.

  Roman nodded. He had a year to get the first generation to the subadult status, all the while other generations were going to be coming in as well.

  He heard a crash in the corridor outside. He winced and checked the video feed. Apparently Tygra had tripped over his gangly feet and knocked a cleaning bucket over. His brother had slipped in the wet mess and had fallen as well. Both cats were spitting, wet, and ready to come to blows.

  Roman shook his head in resignation has he headed for the door. Tigers, why did it have to be tigers? He hoped he survived the experience.

  Chapter 31

  Once the September and October convoys were unloaded and processed, things began to move. A lull had started with the orbital war, Olympus opened a new campaign on October 30th with the release of a hundred hunter killer satellites in a single wave to hunt down any hidden weapon, communication, or other satellites or microsatellites left in orbit. Anything that didn't squawk the right IFF was destroyed. Ares, Zhukov, and Skynet could always launch more, if they had the resources to spare.

  Ares realized it was going to lose the assets no matter what happened so it directed them to attack Olympus in a spoiler raid. It was an uncoordinated attack, however; it had sent the signals off to each in turn as they passed over one of the ground control transmitters the A.I. still had in its inventory. Some of the surviving platforms were caught out by the HKs and dueled to the death. Others ran their ion fuel supplies dry attempting to get within striking range of the space complex.

  The American A.I. sent signals to the other A.I. to follow suit but each took their own time to consider their options before they did so, which again made their attacks uncoordinated and a bit unpredictable.

  Olympus, however, was waiting for them. Invisible lasers and masers lashed out, tearing into the approaching kamikaze craft. Additional swarms of HKs were deployed as well, but the initial defensive fire had served its purpose. None of the infected satellites survived to get within attack range. Their debris cloud passed the station with a few impacts, all minor.

  “That's that, sir. The orbitals are clear,” Charlie said.

  “Don't count on it. They can still launch more. And we still need to do another sweep,” General Murtough ordered. The chimp nodded.

  “Are you still going to L-5, sir?” Elliot asked. The general turned to eye the chimp before he grunted in an affirmative. “Last minute jitters on someone's part?”

  “I can imagine some stroking going on to ease some fears,” the general admitted. “A mutual SITREP really. We're going down as soon as I get back. Have them ready.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Behind the wave of HKs came basking shark-class orbital sweepers. Also known as Brooms or Pac-men, they were simple satellites that deployed a massive ten-kilometer net in front of them. They would sweep up debris, moving slowly until their net began to deform form impacts. Then it would close itself like a wet water purse net, channeling its catch to the main craft. From there they would be compacted and stored.

  Once the craft was full, it would perform one last orbital burn to send it into the atmosphere to burn up and rain parts over the Pacific Ocean.

  <>V<>

  Two days after the opening moves began, Jack returned to Lagrange Point for a SITREP. His timing was good; it was just prior to the planned launch date of the first invasion. When he stepped off the ferry, his retinue was met by a familiar face.

  “Have a nice trip?” Isaac asked.

  “Don't you have something better to do than meet and greet? Aren't there aids for that?” Jack quipped.

  “Very funny,” Isaac replied. “I came to see if you brought the tipple and coffee,” he said.

  Jack snorted and handed over a bottle of whiskey from his supply. After a moment and grabbing motion from Isaac to cough up the rest, he pretended to sigh theatrically as he pulled out a bag of coffee and handed that over as well. “There? You happy?”

  “Yes. We can't start the invasion without these,” Isaac said, smiling as he handed them off to a tech. Jack rolled his eyes.

  “Have a good trip?” Isaac asked as they passed through a series of locks to the interior of the massive complex. People were everywhere: some racked out in sleeping bags, others adrift talking quietly. Jack looked around, nodded and followed the general.

  Jack shrugged the teasing off. “All right, I assume you want to get down to business,” Isaac said as they arrived at his small cramped office. The two-man security detail set up on either side of the door as the two men retired inside.

  “You assume correctly, though I heard that's not a good thing to do,” Jack quipped.

  “What?” Isaac asked, brows knitting in annoyed curiosity.

  “Assume,” Jack said with an astringent smile. That brought the general up short as he remembered the old axiom about ASSume. “Right.”

  “Just trying to lighten the atmosphere I suppose.”

  “Now who's stalling?”

  “Just … never mind. What's up?”

  “The manpower issue. We've got a finite supply. Not nearly enough to be everywhere. I know we're assuming …,” his lips twitched in a not quite smile. “There's that word again. We're guessing, the people downside will be able to pitch in for rear area security and to clear house. I don't know how accurate that is however.”

  “We won't know until we get down there and see how it goes,” Jack mused.

  “Right. Once the perimeter begins to expand, we'll be pulled off defense. We're sending our people into a hornet's nest. There will be almost no way to keep our forces concentrated beyond the squad level. I wanted nodule forces but …”

  “We're going to have to fight for every square centimeter of ground. Got it,” Jack said with a nod.

  “Right. And hopefully not have to fight over the same ground more than once, though I doubt we'll get that lucky,” Isaac mused darkly. Jack grimaced.

  “For ages we've used robots of various designs as force multipliers. This is an entirely different sort of war, however,” Jack said. “I know you mentioned fighting the last war and being prepared for the next but I doubt even you had this in mind,” he said.

  Isaac shook his head. “No. We were planning for a space to ground war, which means that Ares is set up for us. I should have remembered that.”

  “Getting old, Isaac,” Jack taunted.

  “Don't remind
me. You're not that much younger than I am you know, Jack,” Isaac retorted.

  He discussed resurrecting the super soldier program with General Murtough despite his initial rejection of the idea earlier. “To be honest, I'm no longer sure if the Neos will work.” Jack admitted. “They are pretty primitive now. Roman's not thrilled about how primitive and damn near feral. Very difficult to train.” Isaac grimaced over that. He'd read some of the initial reports. Jack pulled out a flash stick with more in-depth reports. He handed it silently over to the general. “But they are in the works, thousands of them now. There has been a lot of questions raised about using humans instead however. Humans mixed with apes? I don't know,” Jack said with a shrug. He had to grab an arm rest to keep from drifting. “The established Neos in other words.”

  “You think you made a mistake? You're talking about cloning them? Growing them fast in tanks, find some way to condition them, then set them loose?” Isaac asked, face pensive. “There is something so wrong about this. Creating a slave race of super soldiers. No.”

  Jack grimaced in reply. “I know. It bothers me too. Which is why we're only working on this as a fallback option. I'm getting enough of that comparison with the Neo community and others.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But there are people doing it anyway,” Isaac said. Jack nodded. “Damn it …”

  “I know. Believe me. I'm getting pressured from Wendy to come up with our own line. That we owe it to take control or go completely hands off. I'm not comfortable with either approach, but …,” Jack shrugged.

  “But you are going to do it?” Isaac asked. Jack nodded slowly. “Well, I suppose if you need a baseline for the clone troops your people can start with me,” the general said.

  Jack blinked at him in consternation. Isaac smiled. “What, your mother didn't tell you? All these years?”

  “No. What about my mother?” Jack asked, eying him curiously. He was afraid to find out the answer.

  “She was in the super soldier program. Though they didn't call it that at the time. Technically that was what a part of it was though. Compartmentalized to an nth degree out of paranoia and such,” Isaac smiled thinly. “She was recruited to handle the repair side. Too many soldiers were exposed to various things over the years. Just being out in the sun for too long could do things to your genetics apparently.”

  Jack nodded numbly as thoughts rebounded in his mind.

  “Part of the program was to get wounded soldiers back on their feet. Which was why I was so keen about what you were doing with your uncle so long ago.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. And yeah, I owed your mom one for making sure I was born,” Isaac smiled, this time with a hint of warmth in his smile.

  “So that's how she did it. How she got the lab,” Jack murmured, looking away.

  “What was that?” Isaac asked, eying him.

  “Nothing,” Jack replied, clearing his throat. “Nothing important. Okay, back to the clone contingency plan. I don't suppose you have any of the files?” The general shook his head no. “Of course not. And most are either in backup facilities getting overwritten by the damn A.I. virus or offline or dust.”

  “Those that were kept at all. It was a pretty black program. When it was exposed, they shut it down and transferred people out, which was how your mom ended up at Nova Biotics.”

  “Oh? Oh.” Jack nodded as things he hadn't fully understood finally fell into place.

  “And why they cut her so much slack when you pulled all your shenanigans. That and because they wanted to see what breakthroughs she'd come up with and any problems that would also come up, which they did.”

  “Oh.”

  “But again, digressing into the past. I seem to be doing that a bit more these days. Old age.”

  “Remembering good times. It's hard not to do with Earth busy turning itself into Dante's inferno,” Jack grunted, eying the holographic ball of the planet. It was slowly spinning in the corner on a pedestal, a live feed he kept up to remind him of what was at stake. It was dark and murky, battered, bruised, but not out. Not yet.

  “I'll make some calls to some of my scientists. What we won't do is extend this project to the Neo community.”

  “Oh?”

  “They'll have a fit and balk totally if we do so. So, it'll have to be humans putting their genomes on the line.”

  “Great.”

  “Frankensteins they'll call them. Chimeras, cousins to the Neos really,” Jack said.

  “They haven't been made yet. And it'll take years for them to grow up. Training,” Isaac grimaced. “You really are looking at this war as long term aren't you?”

  “Aren't you?” Jack retorted. He snorted at the general's expression. “I have to, even though I wish I'd wake up from the nightmare. You and I know there isn't going to be a quick fix. No Control Alt Delete,” he said. That made the general smile thinly. “So, if we can't do it quickly, we're going to do it the long, hard way. One step at a time.”

  “Agreed. I suppose I should get a genetic sample off to you, then?”

  “Something like that. Mine as well,” Jack said then caught himself as the general eyed him. Jack groaned slightly, head in his hands.

  “You never were good at secrets with friends, Jack,” Isaac said gently. “And for the record, I already knew or at least guessed. You were obviously something special the moment you were born.”

  “I bet,” Jack said quietly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His hand dropped as he got a faraway look. “I bet there were a few officers who weren't thrilled when I didn't take the bait and go into the military.”

  “Me included,” Isaac admitted. “We did troll a few things out to you, but you weren't interested. So, the path not taken. And speaking of paths,” he said with a groan as he rose to his feet. He rolled up his sleeve. “Point me in the direction of your doctors. Let's get this going.”

  “I haven't even debriefed anyone, let alone,” Jack shook his head. “Fine. I'll get a medic in here to at least take some samples if that'll make you happy.”

  “It's a start.”

  <>V<>

  “We're still far from on track, sir. Training is lagging despite the liberal use of VR,” Colonel Sinclair said, eying General Elliot and a few of the others in the room with distaste.

  “We use what we've got. The tools I mean. There is no substitute for real world training. I get that. And live fire makes you sit up and pay attention more than a VR ever will,” General Murtough said.

  “Or duck in cover, sir, if you want to survive,” Elliot quipped. The human general eyed him then snorted. “I see your point though. There is no reset in the real world. We have to get it right.”

  “I think our people are getting stale in the VR world. We need to move to the next phase,” Colonel Sinclair stated with her nose in the air as she pointedly didn't look at the chimps. “Let the professionals lead if that is what it takes to show the way,” she said.

  “Thank you. I intend to,” General Caesar stated. “When I get my chance I mean,” he said with a lopsided brief smile. “Elliot, you've got first crack; you've got more combat experience on Earth than I do,” he said.

  Elliot snorted. “Yeah, hand-to-hand.”

  “But you've got it,” Charlie replied. The humans in the room frowned, unsure about what they were talking about. When Colonel Sinclair eyed them, Charlie shrugged. “Classified.”

  “Right,” Commander Mizu drawled.

  Charlie shrugged again. “Hey, you have had your secrets, well, we've had ours.”

  “Okay,” the commander drawled. “The corporate wars?”

  “Well and beyond that actually,” Charlie replied. “But we're getting off point. I understand the suits are being held back?”

  “For the moment. It's not the risk of losing them in the landing. I understand they are expensive. It's the risk of their getting hacked,” General Murtough stated.

  Elliot's face worked along sour lines
before he schooled them into a polite mask. “Yes, sir.”

  “And I know that's the risks we take. Chalk it up to knee jerk politics for the moment.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I've got a conference call in five. I think we can wrap this up for the day,” the general said with a nod. “Dismissed,” he said as they unstrapped themselves from their seats and the wall. He was the first out of the door of course.

  Commander Mizu and Colonel Sinclair lingered behind. The commander collected tablets that had been left behind. “I should be going not the chimp,” the colonel muttered.

  “A bit of racism?” the commander asked, looking up and over to the other officer.

  “No! It's …”

  “You obviously don't like him much or any of the Neos.”

  “It's not that. I'm …,” she let out an exasperated sigh. “Am I that obvious?”

  “A bit. It might have played into why the powers that be passed you over, but I highly doubt it.”

  “Then why …”

  “Politics in part. He is a Neo, and a lot of their kind will be in the first waves. And three-quarters of the army will most likely end up being Neos too,” he said. She grimaced. “And they need the experience. Badly.”

  “That's what I mean!” she said, waving an exasperated hand as her free hand steadied herself against the wall. “I should be going not holding down a desk!”

  “Literally here I suppose,” the commander said, fiddling with the tablets. He handed them off to a tech and then turned to the woman. “Colonel, I don't make the rules. As I said, politics are at play. Your bias might be a factor; I don't know what goes on in some of the boggy minds of politicians these days.”

  “They are running around scared, like jack rabbits. Which is why …”

  “You think they are keeping you back for a reason? An enemy? A request of your wife?”

  “She …,” she rubbed her arm, “she wouldn't do that to me. Do you think it's a gender bias? Or because I'm a lesbian? I know we've got some old soldiers in the ranks now.”