Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (108 page)

“That's the spirit,” Kelsy murmured, clearly torn. She watched Pat and Fiben move off.

“Baxter will stick around. Same for Ace and the other dogs. You can go too,” Harper murmured.

She shook herself then nodded. “Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Yeah,” she echoed a moment later, looking at the others with a hint of doubt in her voice. Fiben was motioning and carrying on as he chewed the sergeant out. She shook her head. “I'd better go over there and get him out of trouble before the general has him shot.”

“Right,” Harper snorted. “I'll go pack my stuff, find out the shuttle schedule, then try to help where I can while I can.”

“I don't suppose you couldn't, you know, use some riggers tape on him? Haul his furry ass up too?” Kelsy asked, jerking a thumb in Fiben's direction.

“No way! I know what it's like trying to get tape off fur! I wouldn't do it to the guy! Though I'm tempted,” Harper said, rubbing his chin as he slowly grinned. “Sorely tempted you understand. But no,” he said finally.

“Spoilsport,” she groused. “Have a good flight.”

<>V<>

Lieutenant Tumagar's refusal to move his unit from Brazil to Columbia had been taken with good grace once a rational examination of the risks involved had come about. Wiser heads had prevailed on the situation. The order had been quietly rescinded. However, he was ordered to meet up with the relief force moving into his area.

“They should have it easier since we took out the tin cans in the area. Plus the EMP, right?” Koko asked. “So why do they need us to hold their hands?”

“Ours is not to know, just do. I'm just glad no one is talking court martial about refusing that asinine order,” Tumagar rumbled. “They transmitted where they are coming from. A straight time course between point A and B would be what they would probably do. But they let us know over a ham radio,” he said.

“You're thinking a possible trap, sir?” Sergeant Silm asked.

“For us or for them. So, let's be where they don't expect us. A point further along,” the walrus ordered. The sergeant and gorilla both nodded.

They got into position on either side of the highway and waited two long, boring days. Rains had started to return to the area, and with it some of the heat now that the sun wasn't blocked as much. The walrus was at home in the wet, but he knew some of his people weren't happy about being hunkered down on watch.

“They are coming,” a voice said softly.

“Who's they? The Marines?” Sergeant Silm demanded. “Which direction damn it?”

“Tin cans from the east. Now west. It looks like they are setting up to hit them at the choke point,” the militia private said, pointing to the area. It took their implants a moment to translate the native's language into their own. They'd picked up some of the language over time, but some of the thick accents and fast talkers were overwhelming.

“Do we warn the Marines?” Koko asked, coming up behind Silm. Silm was in a crouch; he turned slightly to look her way. “Warn ‘em off?”

“No,” the walrus stated.

“Sir?”

“We wait,” he said. “And we get ready to hit the tin cans when they least expect it,” he said, checking his rifle once more.

“Ah,” Silm said with a small smile. “Ambush the ambushers, I like it. Hit them when they are focused on the front,” he said to Koko.

“Yes, Sergeant, I get the picture. We'll be ready,” she said. He nodded and made a brushing motion for her to get back to her squad. She chuffed once and obeyed.

They watched the tin cans set up the ambush. There were dozens, most of them ex-military or police units. They were also well armed. From the shadow that occasionally blotted out the sun, they had some sort of air support as well, though distant. It was probably focused on the incoming column.

When the Marines crested the hill and came into sight, Tumagar gave the order. His forces had edged in around the would-be ambushing androids. Their entire attention was focused on the Marines and the Marine point. They were doing their best to keep a low profile so their sensors were on passives only.

Which meant they didn't see the militia, Koko, and Tumagar as they came out of the trees from behind to hammer into them. Koko smashed the first robot with a sledgehammer she had made and then yoddled, beating her chest with her free hand before she swung on another.

Within a second the carefully planned ambush had dissolved into chaos as snipers took on the outermost ranks of robots and the melee teams moved in from behind the main force to tear them apart.

Two minutes after it had begun, it was over. No robot had managed to get away. Tumagar nursed a wound on one arm and his face. Just about everyone was injured to one degree or another. Medics were moving forward once the all clear was sounded.

The Marines had stopped when the fighting had broken out. When it ended a squad warily moved forward, ever paranoid of a trap. When they got to the edge of Tumagar's perimeter, Koko and Sergeant Silm were there to meet them. Koko hooted as she took on another gorilla. Tumagar snorted as they rocked in their embrace, laughing and pummeling each other's back. Apparently the gorilla had run into an old friend. He nodded in approval.

Tumagar nodded to the lieutenant and sergeant who were escorted to where he was sitting on a pile of droid parts. A medic was carefully doing her best with his blubber covered shoulder. Glue was holding the wound together but a bandage was necessary to keep infection at bay. Unfortunately, Tumagar wasn't an easy patient to deal with.

“Sir, we're supposed to be rescuing you, not the other way around,” the lieutenant said wryly.

The walrus snorted and flexed his flippered arm. “Done?”

“You should wear a sling. But I know you won't. Don't rip it back open or I'll have to do something drastic like staple it shut. It's long but shallow. It didn't get past the blubber,” the nurse said.

“Good to know,” Tumagar said, eying the wound. “Chicks dig scars,” he said. “Pups too. And they are great to scare the crap out of pups who try to take over as beach master,” he growled.

“If you say so,” the nurse said as she packed up. “If you'll excuse me, I've got more patients to see to,” she said. She nodded once and then left.

“We're um, here to relieve you, sir,” the sergeant said. He eyed the lieutenant who was looking a bit put out. “Well, we are,” he said with a helpless shrug.

“I stand relieved,” Tumagar said, standing. “Now that your nonsense is over, let's get back to work. We've got tin cans to crush,” the walrus said, wiggling his mustache as he hefted his rifle onto his good shoulder.

“Ahem, um …”

“Well?”

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant said in a tone of approval. He looked to the lieutenant who grinned and nodded.

“Lead the way, sir. Oh, I forgot to tell you, you've been promoted,” the lieutenant said, handing over a plastic slip. “Orders were cut before we left. They didn't trust them over the wire.
Captain
,” he said with a nod of approval to the walrus.

“Harrumph. Stuff and nonsense. Whatever. I'll show you the area. We'll need to hustle if we want to get back to my base before dark,” he warned.

“Aye aye, sir.”

<>V<>

General Murtough was tempted to land in South America to take personal command of the forces there after the mop-up and refit. He knew it was unwise, however, but the emotions were there. He knew he was human.

Once they finished the mop-up, they would rest and refit, then plan the march north through Central America. They would knock down major A.I. sites that they could, pushing back the North American orbital umbrella to allow a curtain wall of orbital strikes to proceed them.

However, until the defenses were completely taken out they couldn't land in North America directly. That meant resupply would be a major hassle, dependent on a long, ground logistics train. Ares would undoubtedly do it's best to cut the cord if it could. There was no way he'd allow his people to die on the vine; they'd have to immediately turn back to counterattack and assure their lines of supply.

But any delay in an attack would be a costly one. Both in morale, material, and ultimately lives and time. He rubbed his brow. Then there was the other problem. General Caesar had command of the forces in South America. They were an all Neo unit, though some units had grudgingly allowed humans to begin to join. Stepping in and supplanting Charlie's hard-earned position would be a political football, both with the Neo communities in space and the troops on the ground. Many would be up in arms about it, which would divide them when they least needed such a division.

But he earnestly wanted to be in on freeing his homeland. Before he died, he had to be in on that, at
least
that.

He just had to find a way to do it right.

<>V<>

Jack saw the progress on the ground, and the tentative progress with the committee. The few surviving leaders who had come up from Africa, Europe, and elsewhere had been battered, hungry, not just for food and medicines but also support. Support, guidance, and a say in their future in some cases. They'd insisted on joining the committee that had threatened to bloat it into an unwieldy political organ.

Instead he and Queen Diane had guided them into the beginnings of a constitutional government. A true solar system spanning government with the individual countries giving up sovereignty to become states. They would have one military force, one currency, the whole bit. It was something he'd dreamed of and dreaded. Something he'd never thought would happen, at least not in his lifetime.

They hadn't come up with a name yet. He rather liked the Terran Federation personally. Or the Solarian Federation, though he doubted that would fly for long. Not if they wanted the extra solar colonies to become a part of it. He hoped they would, though there was the question of communications lag. If they thought the time lag across the solar system was bad, they hadn't a clue how bad it would be with the extra solar colonies. Some might balk at joining just because of them. Because someone so far away was making decisions about their fate without their input. Just as America had resented before her independence from Britain.

He'd have to have his eggheads look into that. They'd had a couple ideas for faster than light communications for centuries, of that he had no doubt. He'd seen and sat through a couple pitches for them. None had been practical or cost effective at the time. But now? He shook his head. Only time would tell.

There was still a lot to do. Mountains of work that they were still ironing out, the details that could easily undermine the entire thing if they weren't agreed on. The government had to be obviously a strong executive; after what they were seeing in committee, everyone was in some sort of agreement there. The Martians were holding out for a governmental system modeled on their own, a Federation with a senate and executive but no representative congress. That probably wasn't going to fly with some of the larger populations on Earth.

One of their groups, the cosplayers who were still in the process of building the full scale city of Minas Tirith, a project that had been embarked on over a hundred eighty years ago on Earth were lobbying for the executive to be a monarchy. They wanted a constitutional monarchy and were pressuring Queen Diane to join their cause. Again he was pretty sure that wasn't going to fly. Royals? A house of lords? No, not going to fly with the democracies already out there.

Politics were rearing their head from time to time as they got down to working on the details of some of the broad points. Just getting some of the constitutional rights sorted out was a headache.

He was ever grateful for Yorrick and Wendy stepping in from time to time as his representative. But more and more the politicians were edging the corporations out. That might become a problem in the future.

<>V<>

In June of 2204 General Martell declared Africa safe and clean. His mission was concluded. He gratefully handed his command over to militia troops that had been properly organized and outfitted in order to take his command to liberate his home country of Great Britain. General Zil was pleased to take command.

Before he left the British general sent a quiet warning to General Murtough, the queen, and to the committee to watch Zil. Zil was a warlord; he had skirted the law with war crimes against his own people. IA had attempted investigations, but witnesses had clammed up or disappeared. So had evidence. It was still worrying that he could turn into a local despot.

Isaac looked at the global map. One continent freed, another almost there, a third getting there. But his eyes turned to see Russia, India, Asia still a hostile red, just like Australia, Antarctica, and North America.

“We still have our work cut out for us. This isn't over folks, not even halfway. We have a lot of ground to cover, and we need to keep pushing. Don't give up or give in,” he said in an address to the troops and to the planet at large. “We will win the day, of that there can be no doubt. Keep fighting. Keep striving for a better tomorrow. Remember who the real enemy is and who your friends are. That is all,” he said shutting the transmitter off.

“Short, sweet, and to the point. Good one, sir,” Tao-ling stated with a nod of approval. Commander Mizu nodded as well.