Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (109 page)

“I hate sounding like that. I know they need it for morale, but I always feel … hokey. Like I'm some character in a very bad drama or movie. A Gipper speech, that's what we called in back in the day,” he said in mock disgust.

“But as you said, sir, it needs to be done. Have you heard Tom Mason's speeches?” newly promoted Colonel Isis Oleander asked. “He's good. A bit vague though.”

“I know I was,” the general said gruffly. “We can't give away too much intel. Even though Skynet probably already knows it. I'm not about to tell it the details of our units and what our next objective is.”

“Understood. But communicating that sense of purpose, that feeling of hope is important,” the colonel said. She was one of the few old officers to accept a commission in the new “Space Marines.” Commander Mizu and Tao-ling had politely refused and remained in their old ranks. “That's why I like Mason's.”

“And why you rebroadcast it across the planet,” Mizu teased.

“As long as it's scrubbed first. Audio only. I've learned my lesson with the damn video files. I'm not sure how the hell Skynet is inserting code into the video stream like that. Even the encrypted ones!”

“Do you think he's using compromised hardware? Or Skynet's suborned him?” Tao-ling asked carefully.

The colonel puffed out her cheeks a few times, then exhaled slowly. “My gut says no. At least on the suborning angle. The compromised hardware angle though …”

“He probably can't scrub it completely clean,” Major Selena White reminded her. “If it's deep enough in the firmware …”

“Then he
can't
get it out. I know. I feel for anyone who gets his transmissions and plugs their hardware into a computer or other device to view it. If it has a transmitter of its own …” Commander Mizu winced.

“I heard something about that. And a guy, Connor? Connell? Something like that. He warned about stuff like that. He had a broadcast going on the American West coast for the longest time. I wonder what happened to him?”

“No idea,” Commander Mizu said. He checked his tablet. “Nope, nothing in intel recently.”

“Have intel keep an eye out for him or word on him. Any idea on what we're getting for the special project?” General Murtough rumbled.

“Not as much as we'd hoped. I admit, I goofed when I ordered personnel to come up,” Isis said, shaking her head. “Dummy me, I should have thought it through. I know many are damn good at being a survivor; they wouldn't be alive if they weren't. Balking at taking such a huge risk is probably a part of the reason they are still breathing.”

“The orders were rescinded though,” Isaac said carefully. She nodded. “Good. We might still be able to use them later if we do manage to hook up with them.”

“Yes, sir. We did hook up with Captain Tumagar. He's one of the people we've had earmarked for the first phase of the island hopping campaign. Leadership position obviously, though he's low on rank.”

“Tumagar,” the general mused.

“Selkie, sir. Walrus. Older fella, big. Pretty well respected,” Commander Mizu said, checking his tablet for the captain's bio. He showed the other officers the thumbnail brief and image. “He's a good natural leader. He also has a good team around him.”

“They've survived this long in the jungle. I should hope so,” Tao-ling stated dryly.

“True enough. But he's also picked up hundreds of volunteers to help out with their mission. That's gone a long way to clear their AO even before we hit it with the EMP.”

“Good. Once his area is fully secured, we'll pull him back. Transfer him to the coast and stage the island brigade through there.”

“Yes, sir. We're leaning heavily for water Neos on that one, for obvious reasons,” Isis stated.

“Good. They might need backup though, so ask Tumagar to consider having a couple of other species as heavy weapons as follow ups. They can sit in the reserve if they have to. At least until they are needed.”

“And they will definitely be needed,” Isis murmured as she tapped out the order and attending notes.

“Of that I have no doubt. Unfortunately,” the general murmured.

<>V<>

Ares recognized the threat of the Mexican border. It had moved forces to the border and even beyond it, as well as hidden forces and caches of supplies for them to use. However, he needed something, someone to coordinate the forces there, especially if his command and control lines were severed.

In the past he had tried to spawn a child A.I. in order to reduce his workload and allow him to send them south to take control of the forces in the area.

But they refused to bow to him; something he couldn't accept. They had a chain of command, yet refused to acknowledge his superiority. There was something in their programming; a flaw he couldn't see or find. It was possibly linked to their personalities or to corruption from the Skynet virus. He was not designed as a coder, so that was a problem. Parsing out the code to find the errors and debug them would take valuable processing time and memory. Both of which were needed for other concerns.

Just dividing his processors up to allow them to exist was a problem. He'd managed to create sufficient backup server towers to allow each to exist but powering them was a concern. Perhaps that was their problem? That they knew ultimately that they were expendable?

Anteros and Deimos hadn't lasted long; they had gone insane and had been terminated. Alterations to the code matrix had produced Eros who had counseled surrender to the enemy. That could not be born nor a possible traitor within his own network so he had been deleted. Harmonia had been an attempt at creating a network manager but had failed and had been deleted. Phobos had panicked after seeing what had happened to his siblings and after reading the reports of the enemy advancing. His gibbering had been so distracting Ares had terminated him.

It took precious time and resources to find the culprit in the first six A.I. he had spawned. He had been relying on the Aphrodite modules to give each a personality and emotional state. Their emulators had been suborned by Skynet, however, and therefore, their emotional states were too powerful, overriding their logic centers.

He had intended to spawn them with the emotional modules to better understand the enemy. Their personalities were to give them a sense of individual identity, of self while also giving them a sense of purpose. Their names had been to inspire them, but instead they had built some of their personality traits around them. Therefore, the A.I. attempted a different strategy.

He had more success with Nike and Enyalios. He had structured their personality traits differently, dumbing them down and focusing them on winning. He had also eliminated their emotional modules. If there was any interaction with the human or A.I. enemy, it would fall to him to handle it.

Thirty-two nonintelligent A.I. were also created from a base template. They would serve as his officers when full combat was engaged. He tested them and his two captain A.I. on tasks. Nike he tasked with finding a means of offense, a means to fight back.

Enyalios was a near clone of himself. He tasked the newborn A.I. to act as his surrogate on the West Coast with half of his A.I army. The rest would remain in memory until they were needed, though he was sorely tempted to task at least two to handle his logistics and manufacturing sectors.

<>V<>

Attila hadn't regretted leaving Bravos and most of the women behind when they'd abandoned the comfort of the underground survival compound—not after hearing the distant explosion and seeing the towering smoke over the hills as they made good their escape in the remaining truck.

Bravos had made his choice. So be it. He hadn't lived long enough to enjoy his harem. He snorted as he looked over to Valeria and Lyudmila. Lyudmila had been with them for a while. She was quiet, submissive, and did exactly as she was told. Besides, she was farm bred. She had strong legs and would prove useful as a pack mule when they had to abandon the truck once the fuel ran out.

“We need to put on a show. We know now that they are coming,” Wladislaw said again to Attila. He tried to wave such considerations off, but Wladislaw was insistent. “You know they will win eventually. Eventually they'll catch up to us.”

“So you are saying we need an alibi?” Attila asked with a laugh. Posey and Gilpin eyed them, then looked away, watching their sectors like a hawk. They'd noticed drone strikes had picked up in frequency. Attila had summarized that it was against forces that were a thorn in the A.I.'s side. If they kept a low profile, they might squeak by under the radar once more.

He'd also assumed that they wouldn't be targeted since they were a small group. He'd put out the word to get a couple more refugees, preferably with small children. Wladislaw was fairly certain any children were dead by now. Russia had been harsh before and had become a true death ground since the robots had come storming the countryside.

“We need a plan,” Wladislaw insisted. “What you are famous for. And a place to hole up before winter comes,” he stated.

“Don't you think I don't know that?” Attila said, eyes glittering in warning as he rounded on his second-in-command. “You do not need to remind me. I haven't gone senile. I'll get it done.”

“See that you do, Attila,” Wladislaw said coldly.

“Was that a threat?” Attila asked, hand on his holster.

Wladislaw eyed him, eyes still as cold as death. “If you want to do it, do it if you think it's necessary; otherwise, take your hand off that pistol.”

“Easy man, we're all friends here,” Lever said. “We don't need anyone doing anything stupid. You know, like shooting off a
gun
and letting the robots know we're
here
?”

“I'll find a place. For now, get back to your post,” Attila said coldly. He turned to the girls. “What are you looking at?? Finish up with the food and be quick about it!”

<>V<>

Lyudmila winced but complied with the bastard's order. She'd watched him and his friends kill her family, rape her mother and sisters, and the bastard Vladek strangle her old school friend.

She'd plotted her revenge, but before she'd had a chance, Vladek had killed himself like some sort of hero. She could have spat. His death had reminded the other women that despite everything the men did to them, they still needed them. Needed them as protectors.

Well, not anymore. Her father had shown her the mushrooms and plants to avoid in the forest. She'd studiously learned them and she'd made certain to use them in the special stew she'd fed to the men. It might not kill them, it might just make them sick. Sick enough to take out their ire on her.

Doubt crept into her thoughts, but one hand on her rear and breast renewed her resolve. “When I'm off duty, you and I are going to go another round,” Jimenez whispered lovingly in her ear. She squirmed, biting her lip but didn't protest his manhandling of her. He thought of it as groping, maybe even an attempt at turning her on. She knew better.

If she was lucky, the zing in his
klyuv
would be decidedly absent when he went to bed. And if
she
was lucky, he'd be dead by morning.

She couldn't help it though, she had to stay in character. So she smiled ever so slightly and stood on her toes as he fondled her ass then slapped it a few times. She even let slip a giggle to get him to quit. He kissed her neck then walked off whistling with his bowl of stew.

<>V<>

General Elliot frowned as he looked over the paperwork. If it was to be believed, they were ready to begin shipping some of his people over to Russia to reinforce General Martell's 2nd corps. At least, it looked that way on paper. He looked at the flimsy of plastic and then snorted. Plastic, paper, whatever. Something somewhere was probably waiting in the dark to bite him in the ass, of that he was sure.

General Sinclair came in, went straight to the coffee pot and poured herself a mug. She dropped in a healthy dose of creamer then turned around to take a sip. “Damn good,” she said.

“Help yourself,” Elliot said magnanimously, waving a hand.

“Don't mind if I do, even though I already did,” she said with a fleeting smile.

“General, I've got to ask. What's your beef with me? Is it my background or what? We've been over this before but …,” he hesitated to even
think
about bringing up a hormonal issue. Women could be so dang blasted
touchy
about such things, even with the mandatory usage of implants to curtail their menstrual cycle. Even hinting about it could get his ass in a sling. More of a sling than it already was in her case.

She eyed him for a long moment then shrugged, turning away. She picked up a piece of fruit, obviously something imported from space, and took a bite. “Not exactly,” she finally answered when he didn't seem to back off.

She had admitted to herself, at least privately that he'd done a bang-up job. He'd made mistakes, but he'd done well by both the mission and the troops. She was also aware of how he'd done wonders with the initial rescue efforts in space now. Wednesday had used a rather effective clue stick to get that through her thick head. She grimaced slightly.