Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (103 page)

The nail guns had three linear catapults arranged in a triangular barrel. The electromagnets catapulted the round down range at a pretty damn good clip. Obviously hard metals were the best ammunition, but just about anything metal, even stone would do in a pinch. It was one of the reasons why the brass wanted to run with them.

Elliot, however, didn't like them. The power supplies were a pain in the ass. They'd even tried the idea of a backpack power and ammunition pack for the heavy weapons versions. The weapons were so heavy though that an ape had to handle them. If a human insisted on sticking with it, they had to have a hip-mounted armature to steady the damn thing or they had to be in armor.

He shook his head. They had plenty of ammo to put to use, but the crimp was again, power. He kept coming back to it, circling the drain without a way out it seemed. The brass hadn't expected the units to be used as much as they were. They didn't count on the hardened equipment left, like the military and police droids.

Elliot rubbed his face. A near miss had clipped his shoulder and ear two days ago. He was sore, but the medics had fixed him up a bit. Hell if he was going to sit the next phase out. But he had to find a way to get more power to the troops. The rechargers—mounting the power supply and racks on a truck—could they do that? He frowned thoughtfully, picking at his itchy ear.

“Stop that,” a very familiar voice scolded. He looked over his good shoulder to a nurse. She came in, set a tray down, and then started prepping the materials on it.

“What are you doing here?”

“Isn't it obvious?” she asked teasingly, smiling at him. She looked good he admitted. A nice bonobo. A young one too. When she bent to give him a money shot down her blouse, he fought the urge to look. Her eyes read disappointment, so she turned away, giving him a rear shot.

“I'm guessing someone sicked you on me,” he said nervously as she pulled out a vial and attached it to a mister. Two could play the game.

“You assume correctly,” she said diffidently. She flicked the mister's vial to make certain she got the air bubbles out. “Now, take off your shirt. I'm going to work on the shoulder again. And stop playing with the ear. The quick heal has to work with the scab you know. If you pick it off, it won't heal.”

“Okay,” he sighed, pulling his shirt off as she went to work.

“Got a problem?” she asked as she removed the bandage.

“Trying to figure out how to keep power packs supplied to the troops,” he said as she hissed in sympathy and then dabbed at the fresh bleeding the removal of the bandage had caused.

“Now who's picking at scabs?” he teased. Sylvia always had deft hands.

“Oh shut up. What's the problem?”

“Not enough power packs to go around.”

“Ah. I see.”

“You sound …”

“Sometimes people need a sounding board to think of something or at least admit to an idea they've been overlooking or rejecting,” she said wisely.

He blinked in surprise then turned to her. She batted her eyes and smiled coyly. “What? It makes sense, doesn't it?”

He snorted and then sat back, turning away. “Too much sense actually. I can't bean count the troops; the point of having the weapons are to
use
them. Some people up on high just don't get that part.”

“True. You see some of them using the guns as hammers?”

He winced. “Yeah. They've modified them with bayonets, hammers, hell, even an electric chain saw!” He shook his head. “They bitch about the weight then add
that
?” He rolled his eyes at her. She snorted softly.

“They've got to have something. We've seen about a third of the injuries are from melee attacks. Ten percent or so are from friendly fire accidents when a ricochet of weapons fire or debris caught someone,” she retorted, quoting the latest statistics.

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Elliot muttered.

“As far as the power packs, I'd say order more. Get them to ship down twice as many as you need. Hell, make it three times or four, whatever it takes. Then cycle them off the line.”

“Logistics,” he muttered, frowning. “Currently they give us twice as much,” he explained to her wise brown and tan twinkling eyes. “One unit is to be charging while the other is in use. It doesn't always work out that way however, as you know.” He nodded to her.

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Nail guns are stupid. Taser rounds are even stupider, they take too much power. We need explosive rounds.”

“Now that's a pretty thought,” she said in thorough disgust. “I can imagine what that'd do to people. The blowback alone I shudder about.”

“Heh,” he chuffed. “True.”

“EMPs would be nice. Something shot inside, penetrating them, and then killing them from the inside out. Like the tasers but safer,” she said as she finished up.

“Doesn't work that way with everything. Wish it did though,” Elliot stated as he felt her finish up. She moved behind him and started to rub the base of his neck. “Um, good,” he muttered, head down.

“You need to relax. Get your mind off this for a while. And I need to relax.”

“Sounds like a proposition.”

“More like an order, soldier. It's been far too long, and I'm done waiting”

His lips curved in a smile that wasn't quite a playful grin but getting there. “I'm a general. You're a what, lieutenant?”

“Are you going to argue or finish getting your clothes off?” she asked huskily in his ear as her hand gripped the back of his neck.

“No, ma'am,” he replied meekly. She chuffed, hands caressing his pecks and then lower.

“Good answer, soldier boy.”

<>V<>

On May 31st the efforts of Radick Industries, Pavilion, LGM, and a few of the other companies in reducing the nuclear winter finally started to pay off. The spacers had stepped up their seeding of the clouds and ground over the past two years. For the first time, the efforts paid off as the skies cleared in some areas. The effect lasted for hours, making a few people tear up as they looked up to the blue sky once more.

The sun started to warm the ground and air, reminding those in Africa that it had once been a hot climate. People began to undress a bit as the temperatures rose into the 60s and seemed ready to keep climbing.

Medics warned everyone they treated of the dangers of solar radiation and the necessity of sun block. Unfortunately, a supply of sun block had been overlooked. They scrambled to find some on the ground while issuing health warnings to remain covered up as much as possible. People needed vitamin D but didn't need the skin cancers that could come along with it.

<>V<>

Elliot shook his head as he eyed the MASH unit's icon on the map board once more. Sylvia had taken a large risk in signing on. He'd thought they'd agreed he'd be the dumb one taking on the risks. The kids needed at least one parent to survive.

But they were in a family group. She was right about that. She was also a nurse; he was proud of that too. She was also stubborn as the day is long, so he'd known better than to argue with her. He just wished she'd picked somewhere safer, like being a rehab nurse in orbit or something.

But like him she had a sense of duty. Quiet pride warmed his heart, not quite blowing away the threads of anxiety about her safety, but close enough. He loved her, loved having her near, but he might have to swap commands if he was going to keep thinking with his right head. His lips curved in a grin. Though the occasional side trip for a little checkup and nooky didn't hurt him either. What was that old saying about a soldier who wouldn't frack wouldn't fight? He shook his head.

“We've got the new intel reports in, General. Also the latest SITREPs from the 4th and Charlie,” a Gorilla sergeant said, waving a tablet.

Elliot settled himself and then nodded. “Gimme. I've been waiting for this all morning,” he said, hand out imperiously. It was time to get back to work, to get back into the swing of things once more he thought as he banished any lingering thoughts of his wife's danger from his mind.

<>V<>

The Russian military ministry A.I. known as Zhukov did it's best to calculate simulations based on the current and recent events. Zhukov had been designed with ground combat in mind, though it had subprocessor modules specifically designed to handle naval, air, and combination scenarios.

With the usage of widespread HEMP, the A.I. calculated that Africa was a lost cause. The military units under Skynet's control on the continent were too scattered to be of effective use against the enemy.

Zhukov stepped up its efforts to secure its own borders while it placed nodule forces in smaller clusters within striking distance of key enemy objectives. The oil fields of the south were one such target as were the surviving planetary defense, power plants, and industrial centers.

It did not make the mistake of clustering its forces in too large a group or too close to the objective. Zhukov also cut back on its efforts to secure the residentials and cities. Skynet would have to be on its own with cleansing each structure or area on its own.

It did, however, step up taking down the major resistance forces to remove the internal partisan threat. Zhukov did not want them to coordinate with the spacers, nor act as spies or saboteurs. Where it could it instituted jammers where possible. It also enacted a program with listening sites to localize transmissions and hit them from the air.

The A.I. generated a list of threats, narrowed them down by region, and then cross referenced units in the area. It then checked the logistics to make certain such expenditures could be replaced before it selected the first ten sites for the recon drones to scan while the armed drones moved in for the kill.

Third on the list for sector G was where it had lost a squad of infantry units recently.

<>V<>

Ares also recognized the threat of its internal enemy combatants. They were becoming more organized and more of a threat to himself as well as Skynet on a daily basis. They were also most likely embolden by the EMP strikes.

Each time they took on Skynet’s or even Ares’ own resources, they expended resources and sometimes lives, but they also destroyed the A.I.'s resources and captured still more. They also gained experience, while sometimes the A.I. gained nothing if the units destroyed had been cut off from the collective.

The A.I. specified another round of recon to be followed up by bombings in the summer.

Ares calculated that it would take the spacers less than a year to completely clear Africa. From there it ran a series of simulations and concluded that Europe was most likely next. The odds were 30 to 1 over any other location despite the high radiation areas on that continent. From there and Africa, the spacer army would pick up survivors to swell their ranks and threaten Zhukov and Nezha.

From their conferences Ares had learned that both A.I. had no problem using nuclear or other weapons to strike back at targets of opportunity, even down to the battalion level. A tactical use of nuclear weapons was suboptimal, but might play in the psychological thinking of the organic leaders. Ares also admitted that there were certain scenarios where such weapon use would prove to be the only option if no other units were available to engage.

However, message traffic to and from South America made it a secondary target of invasion. The A.I. was aware that it had been suckered into defending South America before. Double and triple thinking the situation with simulations was suboptimal but must be considered.

From South America the spacers would be able to march north through Central America to invade North America and take on Ares directly. It was a suboptimal strategic situation for Ares. The A.I. realized it was on the defense and could not turn the situation around with the resources it had.

It would just have to make the most of it. If they suffered sufficient losses, then they might pull back. There was a high level of certainty in such a possibility.

The A.I. would have to exploit such situations if and when they became available.

<>V<>

General Murtough shook his head as he read the latest report. The latest surge was telling; they were swarming Africa now that they had additional forces and also thanks to the EMP. He made another mental note to thank Jack for ramming the EMP through. He and the boys and girls on the ground owed him. They owed him greatly.

He still had misgivings about Jack's other pet project. If their behavior on the space station was any indication, they were not ready. Not only were they wild and young, but they were damn hard to discipline properly. They also did not like zero G. None of them did, though the cats, otters, and selkie handled it easiest of all.

Lions and tigers and bears. “Oh my,” he murmured, one side of his mouth twitching in an almost grin as that whimsical thought occurred to him. Not to mention otters, other big cat species, selkie, apes of all sorts and sizes, a raccoon … he shook his head. They each were outfitted with cybernetics, weapons, and armor; the best that the spacers could come up with. They were beyond lethal, and that probably scared the bejeezers out of just about anyone they ran across. Pity that wouldn't work against the real enemy.