Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (51 page)

“EMP isn't the wonder weapon everyone is hoping for. It's also small, unless we're willing to set off more nukes in the atmosphere, which we're categorically not,” he said. She nodded grimly. “Then we have to use them in tactical engagements or set them up as defenses. But they can damage our own equipment …”

“Unless it's hardened?” she interjected. He nodded.

He nodded once. “Right. But the A.I. can also adapt to the things,” he warned. She frowned thoughtfully. “I know I'm thinking a bit far ahead. I am. It's what it takes to do the job.”

“You sound like you are way ahead there, Dad. Maybe we should focus on the here and now?” she suggested, eying him.

“That is what I have you, your brothers, and others for honey,” Jack answered with a trace of a smile. It had been a while since a genuine one had creased his lips. “The biggest problem areas are going to be the world power centers. North America is going to be a tough nut to crack. From the records Athena and General Murtough have put together, we know most of her ground defenses and air/space interdiction forces are still intact.”

Wendy's eyes turned troubled. Jack frowned, looking away. “Brazil, the UK, parts of China, India, and Russia we can say the same. But we have gaps in their defenses from where the nukes got through, gaps we can theoretically exploit.”

“Dad, sending people into a radioactive area?”

He turned sad eyes her way. She stiffened. “It's a hard call,” he admitted. “One we'll have to talk about eventually. But you were asking about the plan. For the moment,” he frowned a bit then indicated the surrounding area. “We're retooling to put everyone on a war footing. Mars, the industrial ships and centers in the belts, the Moon, and L-5 will be our industrial centers. Our heartland. L-5 will be our initial staging ground for the invasion and SAR forces,” he explained.

She nodded.

“The moon will be a part of that.”

“I see. We need to work on the communication problem,” Wendy said, consulting her list. At least she had a general idea of where her father was going now. “It's been discussed. Things would be easier if we could shut down the broadcasts,” she suggested.

Jack nodded. “I've heard the same complaint. It's valid and those targets are on our list. We may have to use KEW strikes to take them out. I'll need to coordinate with General Murtough and the others about how to go about it.”

“So …”

“So once we have things moving along nicely here, I'm going to relocate to L-5 to have a face-to-face with him. I'll be leaving you in charge of some things here. Roman and Zack will handle the military side. At least our part of it,” he said with a grimace. He didn't like the current plan of everyone doing their own force and coordinating them somehow. It was too complicated and wasted precious time and resources.

“Okay,” Wendy said thoughtfully, frowning as she looked down.

“Wendy, you can handle it just fine,” Jack said.

“I'm not complaining, I'm glad you trust me to shoulder your weight, Dad,” she said, looking up into his eyes. “Thanks.”

“It's not as much of a compliment as you think. It's as big a duty as it is a curse honey. Power is never what people think. Those who don't have it don't see it that way; they just see what they can do with it. They never see the consequences. If you screw up, people will die,” he warned, holding a finger up.

She blinked, and then her eyes went wide. Slowly her father nodded, cold sober. “That's right. So get it right the first time. You'll make your share of mistakes. We all do. Try to minimize that. Don't throw caution to the wind, but don't be too cautious. Try to find a middle ground.”

“Dad, you are losing me,” she warned.

He snorted. “You'll figure it out, in time.”

She nodded.

“As I was saying, while meeting with Isaac and the surviving industrial and other leaders in L-5 and on the moon, I'll work on refining the plan of attack while also working on where to stage everyone. We are,” he turned back to her, “going to need people trained. The best two places to do that are VR and on the ground. Real world training trumps VR every time though, remember that. Roman and Zack know it too,” he stated. She bit her lip. “They will need your support to get facilities up and running on Mars. They are working with a core of volunteers now.”

“What about Elliot and Charlie?” she asked.

“Elliot is going to be focused on SAR duties in and around Earth space for the time being. Once that is cleared, I'll send him back here to work with the core Roman and Zack will forge. Charlie,” Jack grimaced, “he wants to go groundside. I get that,” he said shaking his head as he looked away. “But we can't go off half-cocked. Right now I'm looking into some way of getting down and then back up. Extract some critical personnel from the area. Our personnel of course,” he said with a slight sour smile. “Those still alive I mean,” he said. She nodded. She hoped he wasn't going to try to throw people into Montana to see if mom was still alive.

“We'll also try to pick up some leadership while we're at it. We need to coordinate our efforts and get this invasion off and running with some proper intel.”

“Won't they refuse to leave? I mean, Dad, they are leaders. If they leave, if you leave, they'll leave a vacuum. Things could fall apart in their absence,” she warned.

Jack grunted. “It's a risk I admit. One we'll all have to take. But,” he smiled thinly again. “Like General MacArthur said, ‘We'll be back,’” he said as he got up. “Speaking of which, I've got to get going to the next meeting I suppose. Doctor Glass is being a pain in my ass.”

“Okay, Dad,” Wendy said, nodding to him as he left the room. She stared at his desk, and then stood brushing her skirt. She frowned thoughtfully after a moment. “Wait, I thought some actor guy said that? Arnold something or other?”

<>V<>

Wendy watched her brother pace and shook her head. She took a sip of wine and then toyed with the glass. She was tired, exhausted really, but she hadn't done much physically. “I can do more, damn it! Not just sit in with bankers and crap all day!” Yorrick griped, throwing his hands up in the air.

“You went to school for business, brother.”

“Exactly!” He stopped dead and turned. “No, wait. Not what I meant.”

“But it's what dad means. What I mean. You don't know the first thing about being a soldier. So get off that.”

“I know,” he grimaced. “I thought about it. I'm not … not really cut out to be belly down in the mud. Okay, I admit that,” he snarled, face working. “But I can do more! I can lead if he'd let me!”

“Which he won't do, because you haven't proven yourself in that arena. So get over that too,” Wendy said, staring down at her glass.

“Wendy lady, I can ….”

Wendy's face worked. “What? You haven't called me that in a while,” she said with a trace of a smile. She took another sip of her wine. “It's refreshing I suppose … if you weren't trying to get something out of me with your whining, which you are.”

Yorrick winced. “Look, sorry about that, but I just want to help. To do more than deal with accountants and crap,” he threw his hands up again, and then dropped them to slap against his thighs.

“Figuring out how we're going to pay for it all is important, brother mine,” Wendy reminded him gently. “What have you come up with?”

“You haven't read my reports?” Yorrick asked, now hurt.

“No, I wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth,” she said, voice cooling slightly. Or the other end of the animal, she thought privately. “Give.”

“Well,” he flopped down into a chair she pointed at. The chair took a moment then adjusted to his height and body mass. After a moment sensors recognized his agitation and set to work with massage motors to try to ease it. “… well … um …”

“You were saying?” Wendy asked with another half-smile.

“I've been working with the bankers. That Sikovavich guy is a piece of work!” He rolled his eyes.

“Piotr?”

“Ah, so you know him?”

“We've met. Go on.”

“You've met or …,” Yorrick stopped when his sister shot him a do not go there glare. He frowned then shook his head. “Okay, whatever. Um, anyway, he's floating the war bond movement.”

“Essentially what dad and I figured.”

“Yes. The Mars secretary of the treasury isn't thrilled about it, but we have to do something. Essentially though,” he grimaced. “You do realize we're writing ourselves IOUs, right?” She frowned thoughtfully. “That's what Mister Miter said at any rate. He wasn't too happy about the debt. He kept gassing on about how it would be an albatross hanging around the neck of the economy and would inhibit investments in the reconstruction later.”

“We have to get to that point first,” Wendy replied dryly.

“Exactly what Poitr said,” Yorrick stated as his sister got up and poured herself another glass of wine. “Want me to do that for you?”

“I'm already up,” she said, shooting him a brief look to stay put as she poured. “Go on.”

“Well, the alternative is some sort of lend-lease agreement. I'm not up to speed on that,” he admitted with a frown. “I tried accessing the net but with the blasted restrictions …,” he threw his hands up in despair.

“Relax,” Wendy said, toying with her glass again. It was a nice vintage. Not as nice as some she'd had on the moon but quite nice she thought as she took another sip. “Lend-lease dates back to the days before World War II.”

“That's not telling me much. I can figure out the name and that part.”

“Right, well,” Wendy shrugged as she dredged up the history lesson. “Back in, oh, 1938 or so before the war broke out, the Roosevelt administration hit on the idea of making war material and other things and providing it to their future allies—in this case Great Britain. It would do three things. It would first, help them fight; second, it would gear up America's industrial plant for war; and third, it would pave the way for America to enter into the war.”

Yorrick frowned.

“I think …,” Wendy accessed the files through her local computer. “Ah,” she said.

“What? You got it?” Yorrick asked.

“I've always been better at accessing that stuff I suppose,” Wendy said indifferently. “Roosevelt has a famous quote attached to the event,” she said, scanning it. “To paraphrase, you lend your neighbor a hose to put out a fire without expecting a return.”

“Not following. How is this relevant?”

“Well, someone has to pay the freight down the road. I think … you said it was Miter?” Yorrick nodded. “Yes, he doesn't like debt,” Wendy said. “So, he wants to find a way to shift it onto other shoulders or write it off. I bet his real plan was to shift the entire cost of the war onto Earth somehow. He just can't do it because he knows it will indeed hinder the rebuilding afterward. It will also really piss people off.”

“They won't be grateful?”

“Not if they are reduced to peonage, which they would be. I'm not sure how we're going to pull this off, brother. I don't envy you the task. It is a toughy.”

“But … that's just it. I just sit there and let the accountants talk. I don't understand half the shit they are saying,” her brother said, voice bubbling with frustration again.

“Well, what Miter's talking about with the lend lease thing is giving Earth weapons and such at low interest, no interest loans, or as gifts, then writing it off but let them fight their own battle.”

Yorrick frowned thoughtfully.

“It's a smart play. Letting them fight their own battles keeps our people safe. But it opens up all sorts of problems later. And we'd get dragged in eventually anyway.”

“I see,” Yorrick said slowly.

“Good.”

“I still want to do more,” Yorrick insisted. “Please, Wendy! I'm bored to tears with these yahoos.” He looked imploringly at his sister.

“This is the assignment dad handed to you,” she said severely, but tempered that at the last minute. “You know it. I know it.”

“But I can do more.”

“Quit sticking your bottom lip out. You're an adult, Yorrick, start acting like it,” she said, thinking fast. She saw his intransigence and knew how to further get him on her side and away from their father. Driving a wedge between them would help her plans. “I can shift some of my load. Not a lot, but a little. You'd be doing me a favor,” she held up a restraining finger. “
If
,” he blinked at her. “If, you don't tell dad,” she said.

He nodded eagerly.

<>V<>

When Jack had first entered the Starship Design Bureau, he'd seen a few nervous faces around. He'd wondered at first why, until it hit him. They had been wondering when the ax would fall. Building a starship was the last thing on his mind; they needed to focus on saving Earth and themselves.

There weren't a lot of familiar faces in the group. Jamey Castill, his wife Kathy Adams, and Charles Dugan, all legends by now were dead. But Alec Niederman, Levare Saint Joy, Amber Night, and Trey Ashton were still there; veterans overseeing a fresh crop of new wary faces.

He was pretty sure everyone had their resume dusted off but had been aware no one else would be hiring. He had no intention of letting them go. But like Doctor Glass they had been spinning their wheels while their computers were used by Athena to try to fend off the virus.