Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (42 page)

The first shot missed, going under he assumed since the thing had hit a thermal or dodged up. He worked the bolt, swearing as the cartridge kicked clear, keeping an eye on the flying robot. It apparently didn't notice the shot. The second shot hit center mass taking out the drone. It spiraled to the ground and crashed. He could hear Shawn, Roger, and the woman cheering. Then a few more people joined in. He looked around as he rose, waved sheepishly, and then trotted back to the group.

“Enough celebrating,” Boomer growled, hefting the rifle. He noted a few more people were peaking out. “Hannah, we've got to go. The rest of you, help her load up. We'll need to take every plant, every seed, any equipment, clothes, blankets, food, you name it.”

“We're going to need to make multiple trips,” Molly muttered.

“Not if we can get some more vehicles and more
help
,” Boomer answered, looking around them. “What say you, folks?” He said, voice rising to just under a bellow as he pitched it for them all to hear. “Hide, scurry around like rats here? Or come with us? We'll train you how to fight. You already know how to survive, so you can teach some of what you know at where you are going,” he said. “Your choice,” he growled, surveying the area as he spun in place.

“They are too scared. Hell, I'm scared,” the woman said, holding out a shaking hand. “See?”

“You're scared. News flash, so is he, so are they, so am I. We live in fear now. Fear of the unknown, and the damn robots. But that doesn't mean we can just stop living,” Boomer said.

“I didn't say that,” she reared back. She blinked, and then glared at him. She turned in a huff and marched off.

Boomer wondered if she'd upped and quit on them, but then he heard her tossing metal pans and stuff about, then bringing luggage out. “See? I'm packed. I just didn't have a place to go,” she said.

“She's not all there, is she?” Hallis asked.

“I heard that!” Molly said. She hiked her skirts up and marched right up to him. She put a finger right up to the tip of his nose. “Now you listen. The world's gone to shit. I've seen friends, dear friends die. Robots are turning everything into a nightmare. It's cold out, and my bunions hurt. I've had my period, and I'm not happy about
that
.” All of the men winced. “See if you are all so damn smug after some of what I've put up with or all there. So don't,” her finger dropped to poke him in the chest, “be judging me. You have no right,” she said, tearing up. Suddenly she flung her arms around him.

Hallis was at a loss for words as he tried to comfort her. Boomer rested a hand on her shoulder. The woman turned and hugged him instead. He sighed, rubbing her head for a moment. “Just try to relax. We're on the clock. None of us want to be on the road after dark,” he murmured.

Her sniffles dried magically. She wiped her face on his jacket and then nodded as she stepped back. “You're right. My truck is around back,” she said.

“Gotcha,” Boomer said. He waved to the guys. “Let's help the lady move her things, boys.”

“Do we have to?” Shawn muttered in disgust.

“Of course if you don't want the fruit and other food she's bringing along, just say so,” Boomer said, eying the young man.

“Don't have to threaten me twice,” Shawn said, trotting to help.

<>V<>

Loading took far longer than expected, so they decided to bed down in town for the night. Boomer went over to the drone he'd shot down and took it apart. There were animals to be loaded too, not just the valuable plants and gear. Goats, chickens, a pot bellied pig, they all had to be loaded up as well as every scrap of food and medicine for them.

Sora Hanna Jingle, the local mechanic and handywoman, turned out to be their ace in the hole. The woman could fix just about anything. She'd already rigged some of the older vehicles to run with reflashed computers. She made it clear to Boomer that she intended on finding her wife and daughter as soon as she saw the others safe at the farm. They had been on their way to town when all hell had broken loose so they had to be in the area. “I'm going to go door-to-door if I have to,” she vowed. He'd given her a thumbs-up. He wished her all the best of luck.

She was going to need it.

By the time they were finished, it was near dark. Everyone was tired but excited to be going. They had a good turnout; everyone was willing to go. They had enough drivers for six vehicles, all of them rigged to drive manually with their GPS, sensors, and computers disabled.

By the light of the fire, Molly and the others took turns telling them about what they'd been through. When a dog came over and sniffed them, she shooed it away with an impatient hand. “Nothing for you, Oliver. You eat fruit and you get the trots,” she warned.

The black lab snuffled then flopped down by the fire. He turned to look at Boomer, short tail wagging. After a moment he licked his chops and made a whining begging sound.

“Looks like you've been seen as an easy mark,” Molly said.

“Yeah,” Boomer said gruffly. He saw Hallis looking his way. He felt pain; it hurt to see the dog looking at him like that. He'd avoided dogs on the farm for the past two weeks. Now … now he had to face it.

“What's wrong?” Molly asked as more dogs came over to them. A few cats did as well.

“Where did they all come from?” Roger asked, running a hand down the back of a corgi. The dog flinched but then leaned into his touch. All of the animals were thin, half starved. The cats were incredibly skittish. Well, all but one white one that seemed to love to play.

“They've been here. Pets, all pets of people. We didn't have strays around here,” Molly said. “This is Oliver; over there is Claud and Mannie,” she said pointing to various dogs and cats. “I know them all.”

“But the robots …”

“Oh, the robots leave them alone,” a girl said softly. Boomer looked at her. She looked away.

“Is she right?” Hallis asked, eying Molly.

“Yes. We don't know why. We've used them to pass notes and stuff when the drones were around. Some light stuff. I've trained Oliver and Claud to run stuff between Mrs. Degroots and me,” she said, rubbing the dog's ears. He lifted his head, basking in her massage.

“Tea mostly,” the old woman said with a sniff. “We don't want to overload them. The robots seem more curious if they have something on them. And they definitely are interested in the bigger dogs and horses.” She grimaced. “They scared the horses off, even this beautiful white unicorn that someone had as a pet. Gorgeous thing!” she shook her head. “So delicate …,” she cleared her throat.”I'm sorry, a bit distracted and all,” she waved a hand. “My goats get into a tizzy when they buzz around, but they don't do anything. Chickens too, it's how we know they are coming even if we can't see them.”

“Good to know,” Hallis said, cataloging the intel.

“But they don't shoot at them?” Roger asked, stroking a dog's back, then the white cat. The cat pounced on his foot when he wiggled it. She started to chew and play with his shoe laces.

“Nope, nary a one,” Molly said. “I guess they know they ain't people,” she said.

“Interesting,” Hallis murmured. He turned a look on Boomer. Boomer winced but slowly nodded.

<>V<>

The next morning, just after a quick breakfast and a flurry of last minute packing and loading, the group left with a small convoy of vehicles and gear. Molly had been right. There hadn't been many left in the town; everyone had wanted out and the dubious safety of each other's company. Boomer hoped it was worth it.

Molly rode in the cab with him, sitting between Hallis and himself. She rested a hand on his knee from time to time. Eventually she leaned over and tucked herself into his side. Boomer did his best not to move much, but he still had to work the shifter. She didn't seem to mind.

<>V<>

Molly rubbed the meaty bicep in appreciation. He was a soldier; she could tell from the way he moved, the way he carried a gun and his haircut. She'd married a pacifist; an off-again, on-again stage magician that did more work as a clown and moonshiner than a real magician. Shmendric the Magnificent had been a beanpole, a stripling with a beak of a nose. He'd also been one hell of a klutz both on and off stage, but he'd made her laugh. He'd said he loved her, that he'd take care of her. Pity he'd upped and disappeared on her. Funny, she missed the tiny, snow white genetically engineered unicorn she'd had as a pet more than her husband.

Her fingers traced circles on her thigh as Boomer drove. She wondered what his real name was. Molly Aspin. She spun the idea over and over in her head as she kept the occasional eye on the sky through the windshield.

<>V<>

When no further threat presented itself, Ares set about to methodically kill any combatant near it's outposts and facilities, then pushing that perimeter out as far as its assets could patrol effectively. Its tactical directives stated that would push the perimeter out. Maintaining that perimeter with UAVs was necessary, which meant the UAVs had to be kept in the air despite the weather conditions. That was putting a lot of time on their systems, which was suboptimal. It also exposed them to the elements as well as hack attempts by the virus, also suboptimal. But Ares had no other choice available to its simulations. It needed the eyes and ears out there, keeping an eye on its hardware.

In order to conserve ammunition where it did not have units that carried rail guns, it directed robotic units to use their hands or vehicles to push human combatants away or to deal with them. If a human was not armed or not intruding, it sometimes ordered the sentries to hold without engaging to conserve its resources in that area. It was aware these humans were possible scouts, but it had little choice.

It turned its attention to forming a reserve force, and then focused on a means to cycle through the hardware already deployed. Maintenance was becoming an issue already. Unfortunately, a lot of the hardware required human intervention to tear it down and then repair and rebuild it. But the A.I. gauged a human in the loop as suboptimal to its efforts. Any human, even one in the military could act as a saboteur. That was suboptimal to its directives. They could also serve as spies, also suboptimal.

There was no easy answer. Ares searched for some means at eliminating the risk or minimizing it. It found only one potential solution. There were a few human cyborgs who had been suborned by the virus. It debated suborning a few itself or winning them over to its cause. That internal debate sparked further debate on what its cause was.

It was answered by its directives—protect its facilities as well as the continent of the United States as well as all facilities foreign and domestic from intrusion or take over by foreign powers. All other mission priorities were secondary.

<>V<>

The convoy arrived back at the farm undisturbed. They had been anxious the entire time, but the ride had been uneventful. His father wasn't the only one who waved to them when they pulled in; people were literally jumping for joy when they saw Shawn and Roger whooping it up out of the driver's side windows of two of the trucks.

“Good to see you, son. We've missed you,” his father said with a catch in his voice as he pumped his son's arm and patted him on the shoulder. “You did good.”

“We tried, Dad,” Boomer replied. “We got a dozen more mouths to feed, but Miss Grue here is a horticulturalist. She can spell you and mom in the greenhouses,” he said, pointing to a nervous looking Molly.

“So many people,” Molly muttered, looking around nervously.

“Social anxiety disorder?” Mrs. Aspin asked sympathetically.

“What?” Molly asked, eyes wide. “No, no,” she said, shaking her head.

“She probably doesn't like so many people out in the open. We probably should get under cover. There is a storm brewing,” Boomer said. He cupped his hands to his mouth. “You folks want to help us unload? A lot of it is going to the greenhouses. We need to make more trips too,” he bellowed.

When he let his hands drop, he saw Molly wincing. “Sorry,” he muttered.

His mother looked from him to the girl then back again. Slowly she nodded, washing her hands on her apron. “Come on Molly; I'll show you around while the boys do the heavy lifting,” she said, holding out her hand.

“But my plants,” Molly turned anxiously to the trucks.

“We'll show you where they will go. The boys can move the other stuff first I suppose,” Ma Aspin said, shaking her head to the boys. “You hear that?” she demanded. They made a show of nodding dutifully. “You can back it as close as you can. It'll shorten the distance to unload,” she said. She turned to a couple of kids. “Bess, Kim, go get the dollies and the carts. Wheelbarrows too.”

“Yes em, ma'am,” the kids chorused and took off.

“Scamps,” Ma said with a smile. She caught Molly's hand. “You coming?” she asked. Molly nodded, head down as she let Ma Aspin lead her off.

Boomer wasn't sure what that meant or not. He turned, saw Hallis and Roger looking anywhere but at him and then shook his head. His eyes caught on the mechanic, Mrs. Jingle. She was apparently hugging a pair of snow white women. One of the women was obviously a teenager; she was small with purple hair. The other had red and yellow hair like flames. Both of them had long elf ears. He blinked. He'd seen them around, but it hadn't connected. Apparently the lost had been found, he thought, wincing at the happy weeping and squealing as he turned away.