Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (40 page)

<>V<>

If Harper had thought he was getting a reprieve on the ship for the ride to Earth, he like the rest of the teams were sorely mistaken. The SWAT team and DIs who had rode along with them kept a close eye on the criminal teams. Everyone had to do regular calisthenics, PT, and long grueling sessions in VR followed by post-op meetings that were almost as bad.

Apparently someone somewhere had gotten the idea of loading Battlefield Apocalypse with the latest intel they had on the planet—set the op force as robots and then cranked it up on legendary. It was a serious pain in the ass, even more so when one or more of the other teams ran the op force.

Director Asazi had told them they were teaching them at a higher level so that when they got to Earth they could handle whatever was thrown their way. He's spent a lot of time teaching them how to deal with the robots on the ground, how to disable them with weapons or in hand-to-hand. Every weak spot had been drilled into them. He and his hand-to-hand instructors had shown them moves Harper hadn't thought possible. And he'd drilled them all on doing them when they were needed. He hadn't gotten it down to muscle memory like the instructors wanted, not yet anyway, but the basics were now there for the teams to practice on their own.

Each individual had also been treated and conditioned for the ground environment. The harsh training regime had burned off any lingering fat they'd had. Well, that and the medical cocktail the doctors and lab rats had cooked up. Harper wasn't sure he wanted to know the ingredients. He did like that he was at his peak in physical fitness. He'd never felt this alive, this, he flexed a rippling bicep, this perfect. He was like some sort of Greek god.

He also appreciated the conditioning and training they had on radiation. The vaccines were a nice touch too. They'd even replaced their appendixes with a synthetic organ that would help them survive on the ground.

He just hoped it was all worth it.

<>V<>

Trey Ashton found Amber Night in her office, staring at an electronic portrait on the wall screen. He frowned; he'd come in because he'd heard soft weeping from the hallway.

“Something wrong, Amber?” he asked quietly, tapping on her door with his knuckle to get her attention. Everyone in the Starship Design Bureau was on edge. Not only were they worried about what was going on, if humanity would survive, but some had the rather self-centered worry about their own jobs. He knew he did, and he also knew he should feel ashamed for it. Which he did.

“It's … it's nothing really. It's silly,” she said, hastily dabbing at her face.

“It's probably easier to talk about it. Get it off your chest,” he offered as he sat on the corner of her desk.

“It's … I was upset about all the loss of art,” she finally admitted, ducking her head. “And that makes me … I feel horrible. Here thousands are dying by the minute and here I am moaning over the loss of precious art and places. All the books …,” she waved a hand helplessly.

Trey frowned and then shook his head slowly. “See? Even you think I'm a horrible person!” she wailed, voice catching in hurt.

“No,” he said, waving a hand. “It's not that,” he said, hoping to stave off further water works. She stared at him. “Well, the good news is, we've got mirror sites on Mars, the Lagrange colonies, the moon, and other places throughout the solar system. So anything electronic we should have backed up.”

She stared at him in surprise. “We do?”

“Time limit, remember? The powers that be who run the internet thought it wise to have
local
networks and a loose link to the other distant networks. That way you don't have to wait eight or more minutes for a byte to get to you,” Trey said dryly.

Amber nodded. “So I am being a silly twit,” she said. “Worrying over nothing,” she rose, now embarrassed.

He snorted. “I know a lot of art and places were scanned in 3D many times over the years, each time with better resolution. Some of them are in virtual museums and of course school work and games,” he said. She nodded. “Anything that has been lost can be remade in other words. Material things are unimportant. What matters now are the lives we can save.”

Amber nodded. “Okay,” she murmured, slowly leaving the room.

Trey watched her go, and then looked away. “Including our own.”

Chapter 15

When they got within a kilometer of the giant warehouse complex, Boomer started to get nervous. When he got that way, he knew it was for good reason, so he decided it was best to act on it. It was better to be safe than sorry or dead. And he had no intention of being dead anytime soon.

They hadn't seen many vehicles on their long, lonely drive. Those they had seen had been burned-out shells. That had been an ominous sign that something out there was hunting them. The corpses inside had been a grim reminder that it was a new world—a ghastly world, one big battlefield.

“Why are you slowing down?” Hallis asked as Boomer eased off on the gas pedal and started to coast. They could see the top of the building over the next rise. It really was massive. Hallis tried his best not to smack his lips together. He planned on stuffing himself then hiding as much food as he could for himself in the truck. He could use it to barter or for himself later.

“I don't want to sail in fat, dumb, and happy,” Boomer replied, eyes on the building's roof. “There are people there or something,” he said as he saw motion in the room.

Boomer cursed as they found the warehouse occupied. He wasn't sure by what, but from the glitter of metal, he was fairly certain it was by robots. He pulled up the truck, then got out and moved in on foot with the others following. He motioned for them to keep down. He looked through the binoculars then handed them to Hallis.

“Is it worth going into?” Hallis asked. “Maybe at night? We'd have the advantage …”

“So would they. Some of them undoubtedly have night vision,” Boomer replied, pointing to a police android near the door. The civilian robots were either out on patrol or busy doing something; he couldn't quite make out.

“It's a trap. Five gets you ten that the food is gone. They probably destroyed it all or poisoned it,” Boomer said finally. “I'm not going to risk us going in there for no gain. It's not worth it,” he said, shaking his head.

“But we need food, supplies,” Roger said. He looked back to the building then to Boomer.

“We're not going to get them there. The only thing there is death,” Boomer said. He noted the cars around the building. There were drones too. “It's a nest,” he said.

“Nest?”

“The drones are delivery drones. I bet they've been modified as recon drones as well as bombers. That's what they are doing, rigging the robots that can take it with weapons and shit,” Boomer said. He turned away and banged an elbow into the hard frozen ground. “That's what it is. I saw similar shit from towel heads in the sandbox. They loved IEDs. They'd get someone to get a drone to deliver a package, then catch the drone, reprogram it, then load it up with explosives to hit us or another target with. Wanna bet that's what they're planning to do here?” he asked.

“So we should take it out,” Roger insisted.

“You want to walk into that mess with a couple rifles and handguns?” Boomer asked, eying Roger in disbelief. “I've got the training but even I'm not that stupid.”

“Well, we've got to do something!” Roger insisted, looking around desperately for answers.

“We will. We'll head to town. It's back that way. We'll see if we can scavenge anything from the local general store, if it's still there. My memory is a tad foggy,” Boomer admitted as he got up. He brushed himself off. “I remember a couple of greenhouses in the area. We'll hit a few; see what plants they've got. If we're lucky we'll find some fruit or something.”

“Something's better than nothing I suppose,” Hallis muttered.

“Mount up,” Boomer said as he climbed into the truck.

“Hang on a bit. I gotta take a wiz,” Roger muttered, moving away for privacy.

“Make it quick. Anyone else?” He asked.

Hallis had started to climb into the truck then stopped. He grimaced then shut the door and moved off as well.

Boomer saw him and Shawn go and snorted. “Yeah, that's about what I thought.”

<>V<>

When they pulled up on the outskirts of the small town, they could tell it wasn't in good shape. Main Street was littered with bodies, robots, and human alike. Debris was everywhere as were battered and sometimes burned-out vehicles.

Some of the parts of the town were a burned shell. Here and there they saw a vehicle embedded in a home or building. They crept slowly forward; Boomer trying to divide his attention on watching out for something that could puncture their tires as well as anything that could threaten them.

“Damn,” Hallis said, over and over. “We've had it easy it seems.”

“You can say that again,” Boomer murmured. “I saw this back in the day, but this is insane,” he said. He pulled up to a blockade made out of debris and an overturned bus.

“Now what?”

“Now it seems we get out and walk,” Boomer said, opening the door.

He wished he'd had his kit. Even his M-5 would have been nice. But wishes were like fishes, you could only count the one in your bucket. “Don't bunch up. But don't spread out too far. Watch the doors, windows, and rooftops,” he said softly as they made their way around the bus.

Looking in the windows had proven a bit nerve wracking but in the end disappointing. There was nothing to see but wreckage. Picked-over wreckage in most places. Apparently the bots had hit it hard; those places that had still been occupied. Boomer knew that some of the brick and mortar buildings had been vacant for years. They had been considered historical monuments so they couldn't be torn down and replaced. Most companies didn't want to occupy such miniscule real estate, not when they could buy a farm up and build what they wanted from the ground up he thought.

They made it a hundred meters, sticking to one side of the street to avoid being picked off by both sides before they heard a noise in the air. They were near a series of greenhouses, some torn up.

“I'm starting to think this is a colossal waste of time,” Hallis grumbled. He looked up, frowning. “What the hell is that? Lawnmower?”

“No, worse. Drone,” Shawn said, looking up as well. Fear was written on his face. He was stiff, looking around.

“Yeah, but it's just a delivery model, right? We've seen tons of them,” Roger said with a sniff.

“They can still hurt you if they swoop down and kamikaze, idiot,” Shawn scolded.

“Oh,” Roger said, looking around then to the sky warily. “Yeah, all those blades,” he muttered.

“Right. You really want to get chopped up?” Shawn demanded.

Boomer heard a door open and turned. There was some sort of shack attached to one of the greenhouses. A head peaked out. A female head. His turn had alerted Hallis and the others. They looked at him then to where he was looking.

The woman had her hair all frazzled out. She was a bit dirty and disheveled but alert. She was wearing a long skirt over a long sleeve frazzled and dirty dress. She was also looking at the sky warily as she wiped at her hands with her apron.

“Get in here,” she said in a fierce urgent whisper, waving her hands frantically in come here motions. “Well? What's keeping you? Move your asses! Come on, come on! Before they see you!”

Boomer and Hallis turned a wary eye to the sky as they trotted to the greenhouse. He was the last to enter though.

What they entered was a dark room. It was apparently some sort of mudroom attached to the greenhouse. There was a skylight but someone had taped stuff over it. “Be quiet,” the woman said softly, motioning to stay put. “And stand still,” she urged. She went over to the pot bellied stove and tossed a piece of furniture into the fire, then closed the door with another piece.

Boomer watched her antics frowning. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but the woman was all business. She methodically finished taking the bar stool apart and then stacked the wood near the stove for future use.

He frowned. The stain and stuff on the wood wouldn't do the fire any good. Come to think of it, it wouldn't do them any good either.

They could hear the buzz of a drone a few minutes later. They all looked up fearfully to the sky. The woman put a finger to her lips. When the buzz faded, she seemed to relax slowly.

“You can never be too careful with those damn things. I'm not sure what sort of sensor package they are carrying these days. But I know they hate the smoke from furniture and stuff,” she said, indicating the stove. It was leaking smoke a bit despite the seal around the door. Hallis coughed, one hand over his mouth.

“It reeks,” he said.

“My eyes are watering,” Roger complained.

“Come on, in here,” the woman said. She opened a door into the greenhouse. They felt warmth, even greater warmth than the stove was putting out hit them. “The greenhouse is set to eighty-five or so to promote growth. I vent it only when I have to. It will hopefully mask our heat signatures. Just don't move around too much,” she warned. “I'm Molly by the way. Molly Grue.”