Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (50 page)

“How bad are they?”

“Bad enough. Anything that has a computer in it is now programmed to kill you or at least hurt you. We ran into a trap a couple weeks ago,” he related the story to Harper. He noticed Paudrick and a few of the others not on duty leaned in, some taking a knee or listening while doing chores. Even the flight crew edged over closer to listen in.

When he finished a guy who turned out to be the flight engineer waved a hand to the shuttle. “Anyone have any idea on how to deal with the ice? It's getting everywhere.”

“I know. You've been checking the shuttle?”

“Yeah. But I'm talking about plowing the landing strip so we can get the hell out of here. Like we planned,” the engineer said, waving a hand.

“It's ice. It's like cement. Slippery as hell,” Baxter said, shaking his head. “We need a good thaw or barring that a jackhammer.”

“Or a blow torch,” Fiben said with a snort.

“Or a plow. A shovel we can use to get some of the snow out if we want to break our backs doing it. The shovels here aren't designed too well,” Baxter held up a shovel. It was a spade, designed to dig in the ground. It was also a short folding design. The handle could extend but seemed flimsy.

Fiben grunted. Apparently someone hadn't planned on the snow. It was obvious that the flight crew hadn't. He wondered how the other shuttles were fairing.

Harper watched the banter and nodded to Fiben. He was glad the other chimp had related the story but kept his tone professional and ended on a high note. His dissertation on the mistakes made, the weaknesses he'd found, and the things to watch out for had been priceless.

With Fiben's team they could get intel on the area and then slot them in to help out while pairs or quartets did outer sweeps pushing the perimeter out.

“We've got bodies,” Kelsy said warily as she came over. “Human and other and robots. Pat is taking the robots apart instead of busting them up. Less work that way he says,” she reported.

“Right,” Harper grunted.

“Pat is an engineer. He might be able to help you with the shuttle,” Fiben said, looking to the flight engineer. “But we need him on a thousand and one projects. He was working on a space heater for instance.”

“Got one,” Baxter said, pointing to a small brick-like device. “It's just not on because it melts the snow and sinks to the ground.”

“You could use that to thaw the ice but you'd be at it all day,” Kelsy said. She looked at the bird and then the group. “You guys realize one good snowstorm, maybe two, and this bird will be buried completely, right? We're on the clock.”

“We know that. We're working on figuring out a solution,” the flight engineer said darkly. “Got any ideas?”

Kelsy shook her head. From the engineer's expression, it was clear to everyone that she wasn't helping and that she should shut up. She returned his glower measure for measure until Harper cleared his throat.

“Hey! Look what we found! Dinner!” a guy said, holding something up by the tail.

Fiben looked at it but wasn't certain what it was until the soldier brought it closer. When he did the chimp grunted. Apparently they had found a frozen carcass of a dog-sized dinosaur. In life it had been a beautiful thing, with bright vibrant feathers and a bird-like attitude. Now it was carrion. The animal had been a gene-engineered pet. From the look of its torso, it had died due to a low caliber gunshot wound.

“It's been shot.”

“Not unusual. We found others. There is a chicken coop of some sort. I think they might have been using them to fight or something,” the soldier said shaking his head. “I'll toss it outside the perimeter,” he said.

“No, give it here,” Fiben ordered, hand out.

“What?”

Harper glanced at him. Fiben made a grasping motion. The soldier glanced at the lieutenant, shrugged and then dragged the meat in. “You don't let this shit go to waste, trust me,” Fiben said, pulling a knife out.

“We've got food,” Harper said, putting a hand over his mouth to keep from gagging.

“For now. Only for now. You need to learn to live off the land if you are going to survive here. Trust me on this. Keep your food as a reserve for when you'll need it the most. Like a blizzard that slams down and locks you in for a couple days,” the chimp stated as he got to work. “I wished I'd known it was here earlier. We've gone hungry plenty of times over the past month,” he growled as he worked. He licked his lips anticipating a good drumstick. The bird wasn't built with big breasts. He'd take what he could get, dark meat or not. Beggars really couldn't be choosers at this point.

“He's right,” Kelsy said, eying the dinosaur as Fiben worked at it. It seemed like it was slow going since it was frozen solid. “They taste like chicken anyway.” She grimaced. “Fiben, you'll need to thaw it first to carve it,” she observed. He grunted.

“It's just the idea of eating carrion, let alone someone's pet,” Baxter said, eying Fiben's efforts.

“Disgusting yes. But we do what we have to or we starve,” Kelsy said. “Get over it. Get over yourself. The dogs already have,” she said pointing to the dogs who were sniffing the carcass with interest.

<>V<>

By the fire that evening, Fiben observed their gear. It was nice, very comfortable and warm. It adjusted to his frame nicely. It wasn't a smart fabric either. He'd heard a few of those had strangled their wearers. They had made a few mistakes with it, starting with using red for the outer layer.

“Whoever did this was thinking rescue not camouflage and survival,” he pointed out, tapping the fabric with his hand. They were still under the wing. It was starting to snow, so far just a dusting. If he was right, the underside of the shuttle would turn into a snow cave for a while... at least until enough snow packed up on top to break the wings.

“It should be white. That would make a lot more sense,” he pointed out. “Arctic colors mixed with soot and urban I suppose. Though a smart camo would be awesome,” Fiben said, fingering his new jacket. “Not that I'm complaining,” he said.

“You'd better not or I'll pound your fuzzy ass,” Pat said, eying him. Fiben looked his way then snorted in amusement at such an outlandish idea. He did like the jacket though; it was made out of space age layers. The inner layer had quilting as well as a material that wicked away dangerous sweat.

The jacket had a second outer layer. He could wear them together or individually, with the lighter one used as a wind breaker or rain slicker. Nice.

“We need to get this bird dug out and under cover if we ever plan on using it again. At the very least find better shelter in the morning,” Harper said, eying the group. Most of the people nodded. Imda yawned then leaned against her mom, eyes already closed. Asa stroked her hair, finger combing it.

“Baxter, you've got first watch,” Harper said.

“I can take second,” Fiben said, holding up a hand. Harper and the soldiers looked at him. “Hey, I've been taking second for a while now. I'll be awake anyway,” he said.

“Good to know,” Harper said. “We're all in this together.”

“Yes, sir,” Fiben said, nodding a head to him. That got a few slight signs of approval from the troops.

“The rest of you KP, then bed down for the evening. We'll make a fresh start come first light. What there is of it,” Harper said. He noticed the flight crew were still bedding down in the bird. He'd have to talk to them in the morning he thought tiredly.

It seemed the cold and low light took the energy right out of you. It'd be hell if, no,
when
they entered real combat.

<>V<>

Paco Attila Effriam shook his head to clear it as he got out of the shuttle or what was left of it.

The flight crew was dead. The shuttle had belly flopped on the snow, but with the landing gear down, the drag had turned what should have been a rough but survivable landing into a messy one. Well, messy for the flight crew. His people had all been in five-point harnesses that hadn't unlocked until the craft had come to a safe stop. Ten of them had survived. Two had died from snapped necks. Either they'd snapped in the landing or at some other time. Either way, dead was dead, he wasn't going to cry over it.

He tried to take a deep breath but ended up coughing instead. There was a lot of smoke from the wreckage. The stink was bad. “How long were we out for?”

“A couple hours at least. Maybe more,” Vladek said, eying the sky. It was all one dark cloud from horizon to horizon. There were no breaks at all. The land was dark, very dark. He looked out and whistled at the wreckage strewn in the shuttle's wake. “Yeah, that sucks. Any landing you can walk away from I suppose,” he drawled, gathering gear.

“I guess you are the acting officer? Wladislaw asked, eying Attila.

“Got a problem with that?” Attila asked, eying him coldly. “And who's acting? Get over yourself.”

“Yes, sir!” Wladislaw said with just a slight hint of mocking in his tone. “Your orders, sir?”

“Unload the ship. Vladek! Posey! Find us some wheels or something. Anything. Or at least a building we can stage out of. We don't want to be near this thing long in case the robots come calling or the fuel decides to blow up,” he growled.

“Yes, sir,” Vladek said. “We need guns,” he said. “They were um, in the back,” he said.

Attila eyed the wreckage. “So they were. Work on that with the others, then get your ass in gear. Now,” he growled.

“Got it,” Vladek said, moving out.

Attila shook his head as the group swung into action. Fracked up, beat up, but the one thing they had wanted most of all—free.

Now they just had to live long enough to enjoy it.

He'd heard the frantic radio calls over the intercom the pilot had left open and had deduced the other shuttles had been shot down. Immediately he decided to maintain radio silence despite the low risk of interception from the laser. He saw Posey pull it out, and he waved such considerations off. “Leave it,” he growled.

“Why?”

“Best they don't know, either way. If they think we're dead, so be it. We're here anyway, and we're here to stay. But if we're doing this, we do it our way.
My
way,” Attila growled, eyes flashing. The others in his squad looked up and then nodded in agreement. Posey gulped for questioning his orders then nodded hastily as well.

Chapter 19

“Dad, so what is the plan?” Wendy asked as they finished up with a light lunch. She liked touching base with her dad; it kept him grounded and gave her an insight into his thinking. She just wished he didn't go so hard on the proteins. He needed to eat more fruit.

For Jack, things were going frustratingly, almost agonizingly slow. The loss of the MFI to the troops he had counted on was a major blow to their planning. The troops weren't out of it permanently, but those who had to be repaired either with supplements or prosthetic augmentation, would take months to heal and come online. Napoleon's line about asking for anything but time ran through his head a lot these days he mused. Every second they waited meant more people died. It was mind boggling that so many people had to be brought on board and that everyone had to argue about every little niggling detail.

He thought about all that for a moment as he chewed, eying her for the moment, then slowly nodded. “We've got to take the fight to Earth. To subdue the robots and get in to help the survivors.”

“I know that. I'm talking about how to do that. How we're going to go about it. I've been hearing a lot about EMP,” she suggested.

He shook his head. “It won't work, not on a broad basis. The planet's already been hit with EMP from the nukes,” he grimaced but then continued after a momentary pause. “They effect civilian equipment, not hardened equipment like military or Federal gear.”

“So?”

“So, it won't do much good.”

“Wasn't it you that pointed out doing some good is better than none, Dad?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. He slowly nodded.

“Okay, you've got me there. But the other problem is the EMP is spherical. Weapon designers have tried for two centuries to make an EMP gun or other weapon. The best they have come up with are EMP grenades, bombs, mortars, and such.”

“Um …”

“It's a magnetic impulse device powered by very powerful capacitors,” Jack explained, bringing up an exploded diagram. “But they can be countered. If something is in a faraday cage or other shielded area, underground for instance …”

Which was true, but not all of it. EMP grenades were good; they'd been used by civilian police for some time to shut down rogue vehicles and robots. But they were one-shot weapons, and tended to inflict collateral damage. Their capacitors could also be overcharged or break down over time if they weren't used. The latest designs had better controls to keep the capacitors from accidental discharge, but they tended to be bulky, massing over four kilos. They were more of a satchel charge then a grenade in his estimation.

It was time to turn the eggheads loose on the problem. Perhaps someone had an idea. A cross pollination of something forgotten or overlooked.

Slowly Wendy nodded, drawing his attention away from his ruminations and back to the here and now.