Theogony 1: Janissaries

by Chris Kennedy

  He looked around the room and saw most of the military personnel nodding; he figured that would be the most important thing that he could accomplish during the mission.

  “How do the replicators work?” asked Sarah Roberts, the Secretary of Technology. “Can we build more replicators of our own?”

  “I asked the Psiclopes the same thing,” said Calvin. “They won’t tell us. Based on some of the things that I’ve seen and heard, I think that it works by turning materials into energy and then reconverting them back into matter, but just in a different pattern. With a replicator, the materials are fed into it and then are reassembled into the thing that you want based on the template that is in the replicator. Things can be broken down to the atomic level, but whatever type of material goes in is what you get back out. As the implants we’re getting have a lot of rare earth elements in them, they have to put those same elements into the replicator. As I understand it, you can’t get matter for nothing; you have to put into the front of it what you want to get out the back of it. So....if you want to build another replicator, you can, but since it is bigger than what can be produced, it will take some time to make all of the individual pieces and then even longer to assemble them. Things would be a lot easier if we could bring back an industrial-sized replicator and use it to create smaller ones, which I understand is possible.

  Calvin looked around the room. “The important thing to remember is that you don’t get something for nothing. If you want a ship that is full of heavy metals and rare earth elements, you have to feed them into the front of the replicator. They don’t have to be fully processed, because the system will break them down, but you have to have the needed elements to get the things that you want back out. Whether that is through a major mining program on Earth or towing asteroids to the moon, or to wherever you end up putting the replicator, you need to start stockpiling materials for when we get back. Hopefully, I’ll have a big replicator in tow, but if not, we’ll have to start small and build our way up to the big one.”

  The president nodded. “We have already begun on some of these programs, and we will continue to ramp up our efforts. I agree that we need as large a replicator as possible.”

  “We’re not going to be able to do this on our own,” said the Secretary of Commerce. “We just can’t. We don’t have access to all of the materials we will need. Some elements are scarce and only found in areas that are unfriendly to us.”

  The president looked at the Secretary of State. “Isabel, we’re going to have to move up our time frame for implementing a world government. We need all of the countries working together for us to have a chance. I will talk with you after this meeting breaks up.”

  Calvin nodded his head. “That will be helpful for more than just resource access. I get the feeling that there is still a lot more that the Psiclopes are not telling us, like the geopolitics of the Psiclopes’ society or the Alliance of Civilizations. Arges has a very strict interpretation of their rules on technology transfer. Personally, I couldn’t give a shit less about trying to take over the world; I’m trying to save it. Having just fought them, I don’t particularly want to have Chinese in my platoon yet; the wounds are still too fresh. Regardless, I’m not interested in taking over China or Russia or any of the other countries. I got Arges to agree to provide us what he did by promising that the platoon wouldn’t be used to take over any other countries.”

  “Is that it?” asked the president.

  “No, sir,” said Calvin, “I’ve got one more issue. As I mentioned earlier, I need some time to get up and start flying the space fighters. At the moment, I have too many bosses to report to and be tasked by that I can’t do anything effectively, much less do any training. It is like the Chinese torture ‘Death by 1,000 Cuts.’ None of the cuts are big, but added up, you’re dead. Similarly, I have about 1,000 people on a daily basis that ‘just want five minutes’ of my time. I can’t do it. Now that I have implants, I can access information quickly; however, I need to have a single boss to report to. He or she can then report up the chain of command. Otherwise, we will not be ready in time. I don’t care who I report to, but I need it to be a single person, not the 20 bosses that I currently have.”

  The president looked at the Secretary of Defense. “Make it happen!” he ordered.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Tacoma, WA, November 25, 2018

  “I can’t believe that we’re finally getting our high tech weapons,” said Sergeant Ed ‘Shadow’ Pesik, looking at the racks of weapons. The platoon had gathered in the hangar to get the new weapons from the Psiclopes, and a general feeling of excitement permeated the group.

  “A weapon is no more and no less than the hand holding it,” commented Yokaze as he walked by.

  “That may be,” said Shadow, “but I don’t want to kill Drakuls with throwing stars. I’d rather kill them with high explosives from much further away.”

  “Know yourself, and it won’t matter where your enemy is,” replied Yokaze.

  “Ah’m with you,” drawled Corporal Jimmy ‘Colonel’ Sanders as Yokaze walked off. “Ah’d much rather have a big weap’n to kill dem big froggie things. Come ta think of it, dat der pointy thing looks a lot like the frog gigs we had back home. Only bigga’, a course.” There was a rack holding about ten of the trident weapons and another four racks holding what looked like about 40 cheap, plastic toy rifles. Along the wall were 36 piles of new combat suits.

  Brontes and Steropes transported in. “Are you ready to get started?” asked Steropes.

  “Yeah, we are,” replied Calvin. He looked around. “Is Arges not coming?”

  “No, he’s not,” said Brontes. “I think that he’s having second thoughts about putting weapons in your hands, so he decided he needed to attend a meeting that the president was having. He is also an extreme pacifist and does not like weapons.”

  “Fine,” grunted Ryan. “He’s a pain in the ass anyway. Too bad the lieutenant didn’t break him when he had the chance.”

  “Now, now,” corrected Brontes. “He’s really not that bad; he is in a difficult position and feels honor bound to follow the rules. He is doing what he feels is best.”

  “No,” said Ryan, “he’s a pain in the ass.”

  “In any event,” interrupted Calvin, “yes, we’re ready. What do we need to do?”

  “The weapons are all the same,” said Steropes, “so it’s just a matter of handing them out, and then we’ll activate them.”

  “Activate them?” asked Night.

  “Yes,” answered Steropes, “they have to be activated for the platoon’s use. That way, no one else can just pick them up and use them, not that the Drakuls would want to use our weapons if they were close enough to just grab you.” He shuddered. He nodded to Ryan. “If you would have everyone pick up a rifle?”

  Ryan passed on the request, reminding everyone to ensure that their rifles were set on ‘Safe.’ All of the members of the platoon came forward and picked up a rifle, and then they returned to their position in the formation. After a second’s indecision, Calvin stepped forward and picked up a rifle too. He didn’t think he’d need it, but then again, he had never thought that he’d find himself looking down the business end of a Chinese assault rifle. It was an experience that he didn’t hope to repeat any time soon. Or, hopefully, ever.

  As the interface on Calvin’s right hand made contact with the grip of the rifle, he saw the rifle’s status display illuminate at the top of his in-head display. All of it was grayed out, with the exception of the word ‘Activate’ at the far right end.

  “The first thing you will want to do,” instructed Steropes, “is to thought-click the word ‘Activate’ on the right side of your display. Does anyone not see this?”

  A hand went up from the platoon. Calvin saw movement from the corner of his eye and looked over to see that it was Petty Officer Steve Conboy. A commando diver from the Royal Australian Navy, he was a good looking
guy whom the ladies loved, but technology hated. No one knew if he had some weird electrical field around him or what else the problem might be, but computers and other forms of technology often failed when he used them. After two of his comrades’ legacy iPods had ceased functioning when he picked them up, no one in the platoon would allow him anywhere near their personal electronics. He was also the only person whose implants had failed to work correctly on insertion, a fact that had driven the medibot to near meltdown. A second set of implants had functioned correctly, as had the first set, once they were removed from his head.

  “Did the display not activate for you?” asked Steropes.

  “No,” replied Petty Officer Conboy, “I don’t see any display.”

  “Hmm,” said Steropes. “Perhaps that rifle is not functional. Try another one.”

  Conboy walked back to the rack of rifles and picked up another one. Shaking his head, he picked up a third rifle. That one must have worked for him, because he smiled and walked back to the formation.

  “OK,” said Steropes, “everyone should thought-click where it says ‘Activate’ and follow the instructions. You want to allow other members of your platoon to use your weapon if needed.”

  Calvin clicked on ‘Activate’ and a dialogue box popped up. It read, “Are you sure you want to activate Vella Gulf Rifle A00015?” Calvin clicked on the “Yes” box and felt a low hum as the rifle powered up. He could see text going by quickly on the left side of his display. Apparently, the rifle had some sort of boot-up sequence. After a second, a new box popped up. “Would you like to allow other members of your platoon to use the weapon if needed?” Calvin again clicked on the ‘Yes’ box. After a few more seconds, a box that said, ‘Rifle Activated,’ appeared for two seconds and then disappeared. He noticed that all of the display was now active.

  Looking at the right of the rifle icon, he saw that ‘Activated’ had changed to ‘Standby.’ To the left were indicators that read ‘517’ and ‘Full.’ His downloaded training told him that he had 517 shots remaining at the selected setting of Full Power. The rifle was supposed to get 500 shots per battery, so he knew the rifle had a new battery. The rifle could also be dialed down from its full power setting, based on the needs of the user. This would give it more shots, but at a reduced energy level. With the right type of cookware, you were even supposed to be able to melt snow and boil the resulting water at its lowest power setting.

  “All right,” said Ryan, who had been briefed on what to do next, “we are now going to calibrate the rifles. In order to do so, we are going to make three lines right there.” He pointed to where three large ‘Xs’ had been drawn on the hangar floor. “If anyone arms their rifle before I tell them to, their ass is mine! Keep them on ‘safe.’”

  After everyone had made three lines facing a wall of strange looking metal with three bullseyes on it, Ryan continued. “Here’s how this is going to work. When you’re told to, you will arm your rifle. You will then click ‘Calibrate’ on your display and fire one, and only one, shot down at the bullseye designated for your line. If you need a second shot, follow the program’s instructions. When you are finished, you will put your rifle back on safe and take it back to the rack. Are there any questions?”

  Hearing none, he said, “First row, arm and calibrate your weapons.”

  Calvin watched as the first three soldiers armed and fired their weapons. As each weapon fired, there was a low ‘pang’ and a flash of blue light toward the metal wall.

  “That rocks!” exclaimed Bad Twin. “They’re blue.” If nothing else, Calvin thought, having implants was good for telling which twin was which. While he couldn’t tell their voices apart, the software could.

  “I thought lasers were supposed to be yellow,” Bad Twin’s fire team leader, Sergeant Gordhain MacKenzie, said. “That’s what you always see in the movies anyway,” added the Scotsman.

  “Naw,” said Good Twin, “blue light is better than yellow; it’s got, like, more energy.”

  “And you two idiots are physicists now?” asked Staff Sergeant Patrick Dantone. “How the hell do you know that?”

  “Dude,” Bad Twin replied, “it’s simple physics. Blue’s got a higher frequency, so there’s more energy. Everyone knows that E = hf.”

  Judging by the blank looks on almost everyone’s face, Calvin could tell that everyone did not know that equation. He remembered hearing about it a long time ago in college physics, but he probably wouldn’t have been able to come up with it on his own.

  Good Twin sighed. “Dudes and dudettes,” he explained, looking at Suzi Taylor so that she knew he included her in the second group, “Physics 101. The energy of a packet is equal to the frequency multiplied by a constant. Since the constant, like, never changes...”

  “Which is why it’s a constant, dudes,” chimed Bad Twin.

  “Right, since it is a constant,” confirmed Good Twin, “the amount of energy is related to the frequency. Blue light is like, a higher frequency than yellow, so it has higher energy.” He looked at the rest of the group and smiled, watching them shake their heads. “It’s just that easy, dudes.” He saw Suzi look at him. “And dudettes,” he hastily added.

  “If you knuckleheads could concentrate on the high energy weapons that you have in your hands,” Master Chief growled, “I’d like to get this accomplished sometime today.”

  The front line fired again, and whatever software they were running must have been pleased with the result, as they put their rifles on safe and returned them to the rack. The rest of the platoon followed, quickly calibrating their rifles. The only anomaly was Petty Officer Conboy. When he fired his rifle, the energy it released was obviously NOT the low power setting. The wall exploded in a shower of sparks that resembled an enormous piece of aluminum foil in a microwave, along with an electric discharge that smelled of ozone. A small melted spot could be seen just slightly above and to the right of Conboy’s bullseye.

  He quickly turned to Ryan, although he kept his rifle pointed at the wall. “It was the low power setting, Master Chief! I swear!” he exclaimed.

  Ryan sighed. “I’m sure it was,” he said. “Safe your weapon and return it to the rack.”

  Within a few minutes, it was the officers’ turns. Calvin stepped up to the ‘X’ and toggled his rifle to ‘Arm.’ Immediately, his display went from ‘Standby’ to ‘Armed,’ and a set of crosshairs appeared in his vision where the rifle was pointed. He thought-clicked the ‘Calibrate’ command and watched as the power setting went to ‘Low.’ The system told him to fire a single shot at the center of the bullseye in front of him. As he looked at it, he could see it glowing slightly where he was supposed to aim. He put the targeting crosshairs on the target and pulled the trigger. His rifle fired, and he could see it hit just low and left of the center of the target. A box popped up in his mind that said, “Adjust aim?” He clicked on the ‘Yes’ button and was rewarded with an information box that said, “Adjustment complete. Please fire again.” He fired again, and the shot hit in the exact center of the target. “Calibration complete,” popped up, followed by, “Please safe your weapon.” He put his weapon back on safe and saw the crosshairs disappear.

  The whole process was pretty cool, Calvin thought. He couldn’t wait to try it out for real. As he returned his rifle to the rack, he saw the in-head rifle display disappear as well. Looking at the rifle rack, his rifle glowed in his sight, designating it as ‘his’ rifle. Even cooler.

  “OK,” said Ryan, “now we’re going to try this with suits on. Everyone get your suit and put it on.”

  Along with the rest of the platoon, Calvin picked up his suit and began putting it on. As his interface made contact with the plate in the suit’s right glove, a new display winked on in his head. A picture of the suit appeared on the far left of his vision. The entire suit was outlined in green, indicating it had structural integrity. Next to the picture of the suit, the status was displayed for all of its systems. He saw that the power and oxygen levels were rig
ht at 100%, and that everything else was labeled in green.

  As he concentrated on each one, he understood what it meant. ‘Pharma’ was the readout from his suit’s pharmacopeia of drugs. It had a variety of stimulants, analgesics and other drugs that could be dispensed when required. ‘Nano’ was for the suit’s nanobots. There were some that could be used to repair minor damage to the suit, and others that worked on healing damage to the person wearing the suit. ‘Sensors’ were his suit’s ability to sense dangers like radiation, toxins, explosives and a hostile atmosphere. The last one, ‘Def Sys’ were his suit’s defensive systems that allowed it to camouflage itself and to shield him from some limited forms of damage. It was a very capable suit. Wearing it, he could have taken on several companies of conventional human forces all by himself. Which would be great, if they were to run into any Russians or Chinese soldiers where they were going. Unfortunately, that was unlikely.

  He was interrupted from his thoughts by Steropes, who asked, “Does anyone have any problems with their suits?”

  Only one hand went up. Calvin couldn’t see who it was inside the suit. “I wish I knew who was in that suit,” he muttered to himself. As he did so, the word ‘Conboy’ illuminated in his display over the suited soldier. He realized that his suit, a command suit, tracked all of the other suits and could display who was inside all of them. ‘Display all suit names’ he thought, and names appeared over all of the soldiers. Even though the names were transparent, that many names in that small a space cluttered up his vision. ‘Names off,’ he thought, and they all disappeared again.

  “Everything is yellow in my suit,” commed Petty Officer Conboy.

  The person standing next to Conboy, Corporal James ‘Cyclops’ Ball, reached over and slapped him in the back of the helmet. “Ow!” Conboy commed. “What was that for? Oh wait, that cleared it. I’m good now.”