Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (33 page)

“I think anything goes,” James answered. “Anything and everything at all at this point. We don't know what we're getting ourselves into.” He managed to get that out before gunfire erupted around them. He winced, ears flat as they took cover.

<>V<>

When they got to the boot camp, there was water and another yellow line. The dogs were lined up on it, so as the humans and other species came in, they watered up and then fell in.

Roman and Choji brought up the rear with Tumagar. Roman could have easily outpaced the big walrus and human, but he'd kept their pace out of respect. He allowed the two of them to get some water to fight dehydration then motioned Tumagar to the line. Tumagar nodded.

Roman surveyed the troops with amusement. Everyone was dusty, sore, and a little shell shocked. That was good. They needed to know what they were getting into, right from the beginning. He needed to know who could handle it, and who couldn't right from the beginning. He didn't need any crap, any quitters. He couldn't afford the time.

Four of the personnel had quit—two from each camp. That was a pity, but better now than later he mused.

“All right,” he said, voice gravel with his own dehydration. “I think we've all had a little indoctrination. Good. I think the mortar round got everyone's attention. The first round of weapons fire too. The second though …,” he tisked tisked, eying a couple of people who had ignored the weapons fire. They had thought that the second instance had been speakers like the first. They'd found out wrong when rounds had stitched a line perilously close to them.

“Sir, why so early?” a sweaty, dusty human asked, raising a hand as he panted, left hand supporting himself on his knee.

“Because we need to know who's a quitter and who will go the distance. So get over it. This was just a taste of what war is like.”

“It's … different than VR,” another voice, this one in the back said.

“Definitely,” a few people said in agreement.

“Good. I'm glad you learned that lesson too then,” Roman growled, eying them all. “We have to reforge you into a military unit. Which is a pain in the ass since we don't have the time, or, I freely admit, the training ourselves. But we are going to do it. We're going to learn from the experience as much as you are. Some of you will stay on to learn from our mistakes and create a better teaching method for those who will follow you. Some of you will go to L-5 and later Earth. You'll serve as our scouts, our eyes and ears to get us some much needed intelligence. To bring order from chaos. So, let's start on that,” Roman growled.

<>V<>

Harper surveyed the group as his respiration returned to normal. He was glad he'd continued his morning jogs. He was also glad he hadn't jogged that morning. It was definitely going to be an interesting experience he thought.

“We're going to work on your physical fitness as much as your training. Train you to react to a situation without having to think. Muscle memory. Taking cover is one of those things you need to do instinctively. Get used to looking for potential cover, even if you are going to the head or to mess hall.” There were a few dark looks shot his way. Roman didn't seem to mind them at all.

Harper frowned thoughtfully. They were attempting to train them to expect trouble, but he wasn't sure about the psychology involved in such treatment. Abuse was one thing … but now? He could see weeding out the unfit … but really?

“Those of you with fur have an advantage with the sun. But don't get sloppy, you can get burned just like the rest of us,” Roman rolled on with his speech. “We're training here because the temperatures aren't that bad.”

“Not bad?” Dau muttered behind Harper.

“That's right. Expect freezing or subfreezing temperatures where we are going,” Roman said, eying Dau for her interruption. Harper felt and heard her shift uncomfortably but not respond. “Due to the soot and crap in the air, it's going to be dark and rough to breathe. We're going to have to deal with hot spots, acid rain, and the works. This stuff is worldwide people. The group here, we're a drop in the bucket on what Earth needs.”

“Lovely,” Harper murmured under his breath.”

“Fortunately, we're going to send in a lot more than just you. But it is going to seem like we are pissing in the wind—like we're not making any progress. Keep your morale up, keep your nose to the grindstone, and keep moving forward. If you have to hunker down due to a storm, regroup and then come out strong. The important thing here is not to give up or give in. Am I understood?” he demanded. Many of the troops nodded. “I can't hear you!” Roman barked.

“Yes sir!” the group said in ragged chorus.

“Oh boy. Another thing to work on. Well, don't worry, we'll get you all sorted out eventually,” Roman said. He grimaced and looked up. Apparently someone was calling him. From his expression, Harper could tell Roman had left orders not to be disturbed. “I'm turning your lot over to Choji and his handpicked trainers now. The trainers are instructors from Lagroose Academy as well as the MFI. Treat them as officers. You call them, sir. Don't piss them off or you will be sorry and sore,” Roman growled as he pointed with his arm and finger to a group that was coming around the bend, marching in a tight unit. “When they tell you to fall in, get your ass on the line and do as you are told. Remember people, all this abuse serves a purpose. Put up with it and get through it so you can go there,” he turned and pointed to the white marble in the sky. A few heads turned to look then back to him. “Choji, the group is yours,” Roman said. He about-faced and walked out.

“I understand a majority of you are already trained in security. We'll see what you retained in a moment. This is an abbreviated boot camp. Once we know you've got the basics down, you'll assist the instructors in the follow-on class. Leave the hazing to the instructors or you will regret it.”

Harper grunted. He wasn't into hazing anyway. Pranks now, that was a different story. He loved getting a buddy drunk and then putting a cast on a limb.

<>V<>

Choji handed off the instructor duties to Chief Realt and then went to his next appointment after lunch. It was very distasteful but necessary for him to be there. It was a mark of their desperation that they were already resorting to this measure he mused.

“I still do not believe this is the right thing to do,” a guard said, shaking his head. Choji grunted. He eyed the guard, but didn't agree or disagree. Yesterday had been a remarkable day for the corporations. They frequently practiced espionage against each other and the governments. Cyber-attacks were natural but so were spies. When they were caught, they were usually interrogated, mind wiped, and then released—those that could be wiped.

Some corporations just made a person disappear completely. Lagroose wasn't like that, but they, like Mars, had its own prison system.

Periodically the corporations would trade prisoners of value. Each time it was a show of faith between each party. A means to clear the air and let each side know the other was not only watching but aware the other side was as well. Yesterday had been an open prisoner exchange, the first in two years.

Those that were left in the prisons were the bottom of the barrel, the true problem children. Those with mental issues had been treated and dealt with earlier on. These were the recidivists, the ones who enjoyed causing problems, who thrived on malice. The sadists, the punks, the “accidental” killers.

One or two were repeat offenders; DUI people who had caused a death. They hadn't cared about themselves or others when they had committed their crimes.

Anyone with a sex crime was treated and locked up as well. They were not a part of this group, Choji thought, looking around. They were never getting out, not if he or Roman could help it.

“You are here because you committed a crime,” he said, addressing the men and women in the pod's main room. The group looked up at him. “You are being given a second chance here. It is not without risk, but if you survive your sentences will be commuted or pardoned.”

“A long time ago, centuries ago really, a bootlegger and all around troublemaker committed murder. While in prison he found a new calling, to make guns. He impressed some powerful people, so much so that he was given an early release in order to help in the war effort of that time.” His old eyes surveyed them. A few looked interested. A few had deadpan expressions. One or two seemed bored or completely uninterested.

Mars didn't have a high crime rate, far from it. The population was below one hundred million after all, and everyone who emigrated came for a reason, a fresh start. Now they were going back to Earth.

Lagroose had their own criminals and had paid Mars to house them. The pick of that litter were also in the room.

“Some of you committed what you believe was a mistake. A crime of passion or opportunity, a stupid mistake. Here is your chance to atone for it. You are being given a chance to volunteer.”

He frowned. None of them were on the death row list. He'd made certain of that. Those bastards didn't deserve a second chance. They'd earned what was coming to them, and he had no intentions of letting them off the hook.

“You have the necessary skills to get the job done. We're going to run you through a boot camp. Each of you will wear a monitor as well as the tracker inside of you. Attempt to escape, attempt to do harm to others and you will be shut down and will wake up sorry, sore, and right back here where you started with all of your privileges revoked.”

That earned a soft murmur.

“We're calling the project the dirty dozen. Obviously you are more than a dozen here, so you'll be broken up into four squads of twelve to thirteen each.”

That earned another murmur. He waited it out, hands gripping the railing.

“Understand this. If you try to run on Earth …, “he smiled nastily. “Well, there is really no place to go, no side to defect to. The machines will shoot you or worse.” The room became deathly silent as he let that little shoe drop. He saw two men gulp. “If you harass a member of the same or opposite sex, you will be dealt with as well. You'll be resentenced to the sex offender's wing,” he said. That earned a soft whimper from one guy who had been making eyes at the girls. Choji made a mental note to keep an eye on that one.

“If you survive you'll be helping those who are left on Earth. Some of you have families … we will do our best to look for them for you as a part of your compensation if you so wish it,” he said, surveying the room. He noted a few nods. One guy stepped up, but a guard used his billy club to push him back. The guy did so without complaint.

“Make your choice now.”

<>V<>

Roman read Choji's report and grunted. He agreed with Choji; he didn't like the dirty dozen idea either. Not only did it put far too much on the shoulders of questionable people, but it also showed a bit of their hand early to the enemy. That bothered him.

But they needed intel. They needed someone to test the ground, see what it was like, and get intel back to them. Secure a beachhead. Fine.

What was that reference someone had dredged up? The one hundred? He snorted as he scanned the reference. An old show about a bunch of people on a post apocalyptic Earth might seem like a good pattern for them to draw ideas from, but he had to keep reminding his people—that was Hollywood. Real life was very different.

Besides, the one hundred were teenagers sent down without tools, weapons, or support. The dirty dozen squads would be different.

He grimaced again. Again, he didn't like giving a weapon to someone who might turn it on his real people. He'd have to make sure there was plenty of space between groups. Preferably continents if possible.

Only those with the right mindset had chosen. Some had agreed immediately; others had taken the offered twelve hours to think the decision over. Others had refused outright and had been returned to their cell block. No doubt the gossip was flying in the blocks. They probably expected others to be chosen. Most likely they would be sadly mistaken. This was a pilot program. He hoped it would be their first and last.

In choosing to go, those who had been given a sentence of life in prison were going to regain their freedom and rebuild their reputation in civilization. When their mission was completed, they would be free men and women. They would have restoration of their liberties, citizenship, and even a bit of money to get them started.

But not one of them would return to space. Ever. That was one thing everyone had agreed on.

He turned his attention to the third group; one Choji was putting on all on his own. The MFI had their own version of SWAT as did each of the corporations. Well, Lagroose also had their own version of black ops as well, but most of those personnel were scattered now. Many had been on Earth just before or during the nukes. He couldn't count on many to have survived.

Choji's people were untouched, but all were trained in police tactics. Raids, hostage rescue, search and rescue, hostile entry, that sort of thing. Sergeant Hondo would have his work cut out for him retraining them as soldiers.

He frowned thoughtfully and then tapped out a note to Choji. It was probably in their best interest to definitely keep the dirty dozen and SWAT teams separate. Not only were they cops and crooks, which would elevate tension, but some had put the crooks away or caused injury or death to one party or another. His fingers slowed as he thought about that grim thought. Yeah, they didn't need any friendly fire incidents. The only enemy they should be focusing on should be the machine kind.