Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (31 page)

“Understood. Keep us posted,” Elliot said as he moved out.

“Oh I will,” Paddy said, voice picking up in humor as he gave him a jaunty salute. Elliot saw it out of the corner of his eye. His broad nostrils snorted softly before he returned his attention to where he needed to go.

It was a good thing he was an ape. The more he moved through the station the more of a jungle it became.

<>V<>

“It's good to see you, General,” Elliot said as he entered the command center. He shook hands with the elderly human and then stepped back, wishing his nostrils closed.

Isaac saw his face and snorted. “I know. You get used to it I suppose. We've all gone nose blind, which is probably a blessing.”

“I hope it's not permanent,” an Asian woman said.

“Why don't you take the suit off and we'll talk?”

“I'm not sure I have the luxury, General. We've got to get outside and get this show on the road.”

“So soon?” the woman asked, eyes wide. “But you just got here! And your rad dose just coming over …”

Elliot shrugged. “It's all something we'll have to deal with at a later date I suppose. I'm just glad we've got a good medical setup for the company.” He smiled. “Though I hate going to the dentist.”

Isaac snorted. “Who likes going other than a masochist?” He shook his head. “All right. We've tied as much of the pieces together as we can. What can you do?”

“Well, we've got some gear as I said. Not a lot, but a bit. Mostly patching material and life support. Plus a couple spare laser communicators that Bently brought inside with him.”

“Oh,” the woman said. “I'll go, um, get them then,” she said, hurrying off.

Isaac watched her go. “Lin Mae. She's … well, she's been a comfort. She's one of the hotel managers. We're sort of … cramped,” the general admitted.

“I'd noticed.”

“I wish you'd brought some transhabs with you or something,” the general said eying him. “What can one small group do?”

“We've got suits. We're fresh on the scene. Give us a chance, General,” Elliot retorted. “We were dispatched within hours of the news and our ship was small; I could only fit in so much. We were packed to the deckheads.”

“Oh.”

“Charlie's coming in behind us. He's a bit further out though since he missed the initial window. He had to have more time to prepare, and his ship is a lot bigger,” Elliot explained. “We can do a survey and work on patching what we can to conserve what oxygen is available. I've also got a couple life support modules we can tie into your systems and a small power pack to power them.”

“Now that is a relief,” the general said with a sigh.

“I've got a microwave receiver too,” Elliot said, going down his list of inventory. When he heard a sharp intake of breath from the general, he looked up from his HUD to face him. “It's the energy receiver kind, General. No data. We'll hook it up to the station's power network. You've got solar; some of the stations even have fusion. Well, there are entire plantations of solar farms out there begging to get rid of their power now that Earth is no longer receiving.”

The general caught on and nodded.

“So, we won't have a power problem. Good to know. What else?” He cocked his head. “This is starting to sound a bit like Christmas.”

“Wait until Charlie shows up. But you'll really love it when Roman does,” Elliot said, smiling. The general returned the grim smile with one of his own.

Chapter 12

“You heard the news?” Eggbert asked eagerly. “About the others?”

“About what?” Osbert asked. He didn't mind gossip; it was something to do. But he preferred to do his own spying. That way he could trade secrets or use them against others. He didn't quite see it as blackmail; after all, if they did something wrong they should expect to be caught. But he did enjoy some of the malice that went into it.

Even if it didn't make him many friends. That was tough for them.

“Tumagar.”

“What about him?” Osbert asked with a sniff and an ear flick. “What has the lard butt done now? Don't tell me he's lost his beach finally,” he said.

“No, I mean, yes …”

“Which is it? Is he hurt?”

“No. He's signed up.”

“Signed up?” Osbert demanded.

“For the military,” Eggbert explained. “He's going to Earth. To fight.”

Osbert stared at him for a long moment. Eggbert nodded. “So are a lot of people.”

“Fine,” Osbert said, turning to give himself a through going over. His yellow stripes seemed out of order so he attacked them with his tongue to get things just so.

“You're not worried?” Eggbert finally asked.

Osbert licked his left shoulder as if the idea didn't bother him in the slightest. It didn't, not really. He knew Tumagar; they spoke from time to time but only a little. It was Eggbert and the others who insisted on having a Gentek survivor reunion every other year, not him. “See if I care.”

“You care. You pretend you don't but you do. We know you too well. You just don't want to admit it,” Eggbert said.

“So? Are you going?” Osbert demanded. When Eggbert's face fell and his ears went flat, Osbert sniffed in triumph. “See? Now who's the coward?” he demanded.

“They have a weight limit. I've exceeded my body mass index. I'm also being treated for diabetes,” the other cat admitted, looking away. Osbert stopped what he was doing and eyed him in surprise. Eggbert put up a restraining hand. “It's nothing serious; I am undergoing treatment to repair the pancreas and to remove the excess weight. Until I do I can't join though.”

“Oh.”

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to know why. He'd always imagined going to Earth, or better yet, Mars. Mars was a fresh world, remade. Earth was old, filled with furless humans who had polluted its air and water.

Now they had done so even worse. So why go? He decided to go find out.

<>V<>

“So, you are doing this. I had to see it for myself to believe,” a familiar high-pitched voice said. Tumagar turned until he localized the source. “Up here bristle lips,” the voice said again. He finally localized the cat on his left.

Snarf was above him, looking down from a perch on a shipping container. He could see the glowing eyes in the dark. “I didn't think you'd understand,” the Walrus said, going back to work, prepping his gear. He was allowed the one carry on, so he had to get it packed just right. Getting his rather bulky clothes to fit in was a pain in the ass. He wasn't certain what uniforms he should bring or his gear, so he'd brought everything.

“Seriously, what do you owe them?”

“I don't. I'm not doing it for them, or not just for them.”

“Future debt?” Snarf demanded, jumping down to a smaller container. When Tumagar bent over to finish strapping his boots on, the cat jumped to his back, then off before he could complain.

The cat turned in place, and then looked up at him. “This is a mistake.”

“It is my mistake to make,” he rumbled. “There are many down there who need help. There are many here who need leaders to show them the way. I am one.”

“You think so,” the cat replied. “The humans won't accept you. Mark my words,” he yowled, washing a paw, and then scrubbing behind one of his long tufted ears.

“You won't see any of my kind with you. Fools all of you,” Snarf stated.

“I don't know. We shall see,” Tumagar said, finishing up with his kit. He zipped it shut with difficulty and then shouldered the bag.

“Last call for flight Baker-114,” the intercom squawked.

The Walrus looked up. “That's my flight.”

“Go then. See if I care,” the cat said, flitting his tail as he turned away.

“I'll miss you too, you old flea bag,” the walrus teased as he got in line. It was a long line; dozens of bioforms were in it. He wasn't surprised; a lot of people had volunteered to help.

“I … whatever,” Snarf growled, padding away. He gave Tumagar one last look over his shoulder before he had to dodge a running pair of humans. “Watch it!” he growled. One of the humans turned in surprise, nearly tripping over his own feet, but his partner caught him and kept him moving to the line.

When he boarded the shuttle, he was amused that his bulk filled two seats. He'd been guided to a seat across from another large bioform; this one was further down the row and some sort of feline. Apparently Snarf was wrong in thinking not many would join the cause. “I hope you are worth the weight. They are liable to put you on a diet groundside,” a human said, eying him.

Tumagar waved a flippered hand. “A lot of what I am is muscle.”

“If you say so,” he said, turning back to the screen-wall. Mars was already getting bigger.

“What's going on? I thought we were headed to a ship?” another human asked.

“Boy, you are out of the loop,” the first guy said, shaking his head. He looked over to a group of dogs then to Tumagar. He jerked his chin to the image of the planet. “We're going to Mars. Scuttlebutt said they want us to train together before we head to Earth.”

“I've already been trained. We all have. Why waste time? People are dying, man!”

Tumagar's bristly whiskers twitched as he focused on the human. With that eagerness, he wasn't so sure the young man was trained and disciplined. Perhaps their side trip was necessary. They most likely included old salts like him to ride herd and show the noobs the ropes. At least, he hoped so; if they expected him to jog for their sick amusement, they were going to be in for a rude awakening.

“Don't bitch at me! I'm just the messenger,” the first guy said shaking his head. “And don't try to bitch on the net either,” he said, putting a hand up. “Wi-Fi is out. So are the radio telemetry. Nothing but audio is passed on those channels now. The damn virus can get in too easily.”

“Shit.”

“We're going to integrate since we obviously haven't met. Get our acts together, see who knows what, shake down, whatever you want to call it?” Tumagar asked. The first human nodded. He had a shock of bright curly red hair on the top of his head.

“Now you are catching on,” he said. “I'm just out of the loop on them,” he said, jerking his thumb to the dogs.

The Doberman turned to him. “We will get job done. Try to keep up,” Ace said, eying him coldly. He went back to staring at the lone cat in their midst. Seeing a lionoid bothered him. The humans had promised that the dogs would come next. The lionoid smelled all wrong though. He smelled of both human and cat, which didn't make sense. He lifted his chin to sniff again. When the lion's glittering gaze focused on him, he abruptly looked away.

The human blinked. “Well! I'll be damned,” he said slowly.

“That doesn't come until later,” James McGillicutty muttered from the opposite side of the shuttle bay. He exchanged a look with Ace then closed his golden eyes. “When they drop us onto Hell or at least what's left of Earth.”

<>V<>

James tried to sleep, but the scent of the dogs bothered him too much. That and the stares, they haunted him even with his eyes closed. He wasn't sure if they wanted some sort of dog versus cat thing to go on. He didn't care. He was here, like them, to do a mission. They needed to get with the program.

He needed to focus on anything other than his stomach. He'd forgotten that part, forgotten the vertigo of weightlessness, the nausea that came with it. Closing his eyes and meditating helped a bit. He wished … oh how he wished! He so wished he'd remembered his Dramamine.

Well, he had to put up with it, so the best way was to focus his mind elsewhere and ride through it. He did his best to focus on the future, what was in store for him and his fellow misfits.

He estimated they would be run through some sort of abbreviated boot camp to assess their skills, break them down so they will be willing to take orders, then build them up to make certain they were physically fit to handle the demanding environment and trained to handle what was to come.

Mentally demanding, physically … he hoped they were up for it.

He felt the shuttle hit some turbulence going down and then it smoothed out. After a few minutes, he got tired of trying to nap so he used his implants to pull up a game on his HUD. He played clock until the pilot announced over the radio that they were about to land. Good.

<>V<>

“It's a good crop—a good initial crop,” Roman said, eying the group. His counterpart Choji Asazi seemed indifferent. The other man was a bit big, like a sumo wrestler. Roman knew most of it was pure muscle. He was also a bit of a character or looked the part with his bandana and his long scarf.

“Indeed,” Choji finally rumbled, eyes crinkled so you could barely see them. The bag of snacks he carried with him crinkled as he dipped a meaty paw in to get some more. “We will need to take the raw iron and forge them into a proper blade.”

“Actually, I was thinking we would need to forge them into the hammer and tongs that will eventually forge the blade myself,” Roman said looking away. If he shielded his eyes just right, he could see the primitive boot camp the MFI had built off in the distance, about four kilometers away. “And they aren't raw. Many have decades of experience in security.”