Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (91 page)

“Nothing in life is guaranteed, not even life itself,” the Israeli stated. He saw her dark eyes, much like a shark's. He looked away.

“We're starting to run into more refugees. We need to work on what to do about them as well,” Elliot mused. “We can't evacuate everyone,” he said.

“Nor should we. They need to fight. Many will once we clean them up and give them the training and weapons to do the job,” the major stated. James winced.

“I hope so. We're sorely outnumbered.”

“Not everyone can fight. The kids can try. And some people have other useful skills,” James stated. They all looked to him. “I know I'm what you think of as the local expert. I've been here embedded with these people for a year now. Trust me, they will help. They've got plenty of motivation. What's lacking is the means to put it into action,” he said.

“But they need guidance,” Elliot said. “And supplies,” he said looking at the British general.

“Reinforcements are on the way,” General Martell said. “We have to hold out until they arrive and protect their landings.”

The other officers all nodded. “Yes, sir.”

<>V<>

Once a base of operations was secure, the troopers created a cordon around it for the shuttle landings. Then over the following week at irregular times, the spacers landed additional forces and materials. Some were meant to reinforce the troopers while others were meant to help the refugees.

One shuttle a day was used to evacuate the critically injured that could handle the trip to space. It wasn't easy for the medics to decide who could handle the G forces despite their injuries. Two soldiers died attempting to get to orbit.

One shuttle brought in hastily packed parts to repair the two downed shuttles on the tarmac. The engineers swarmed all over the bird for two days before they got both of them back into the air.

On December 1st the first massive Skywhale shuttle barge dropped in to unload along with the regular cargo drops. That was when James realized they were starting to get serious about finally taking back the planet.

The more shuttles that came in, the more refugees showed up. They were starved, half wild, and feral, but survivors. General Elliot and a newly-promoted Captain McGillicutty were put in charge of those who wished to fight.

Civilian refugees had used the radiation zones around the major cities or strike areas as impassable ground, but time and time again the robots would walk through it, surprising them on an unexpected flank. The spacers turned that on its head by using KEW strikes to plow a road for a division of troops, then sending in the troops with life support gear to mop up. However, cleaning them afterward turned into a tedious, arduous affair. One that the British general was loath to repeat often.

By the end of the month, they had secured a two thousand kilometer strip of land, nearly their entire original drop zone.

<>V<>

Skynet noted the shuttle flights but could do little to interdict them without jeopardizing its remaining anti-air units in the area. The hive was still reeling from the damage inflicted to the remaining network, still attempting to adjust and make repairs.

A tendril submitted a proposal to infect a human cyborg or piece of hardware in order to be brought back to orbit. But a check of humans and gear finds the idea suboptimal. Not enough room for Skynet to have a clone. A spider might work, but odds of success were below 4 percent. Still it put the idea in the buffer for future use.

Chapter 36

January 2202

Newly christened spec ops teams were dropped into the African war zone. They were tasked with forward recon as well as testing new weapons.

Through trial and error, the teams learned that taser weapons worked best at shorting out a system as long as the target wasn't grounded. Taser weapons tended to fry power supplies as well as sensitive electronics. Long-range tasers were hard to get to work properly; because if they hit armor and it was grounded, they were ineffective. Team members learned to modify hand weapons (knives, staffs, spears, etc) to have an electric punch as well. Electrified knives and swords could chop into a robot's vitals, ripping and tearing at wiring and hydraulics while also shorting out the wiring. Any hit on a cable could disable a bot in its tracks.

The EMPs from the nuclear strikes had hit some of the cheaper civilian hardware hard, knocking them out or making them more fragile, but military hardware was shielded and also had limited self-repair abilities.

The teams also learned to use a short-ranged communications jammer to cut them down a robotic fighting unit into individuals. But the jammer tended to let the A.I. know something in the area was coming.

Spec ops teams were tasked with recon as well as to find and link up with the different crews scattered across the continent and nearby continents. The European landing had come down in Italy; once the military had pushed a safe zone within flight distance, a helo was sent to link up with Baloo.

The team was dropped off, then the helo retreated south. It would need to refuel on the way back to get all the way to the safe zone.

“It's damn good to see you,” a voice said as the team moved warily to the bear's last known coordinates.

The point stopped dead and then hand signed where the voice was coming from. He was a bit high though, as the bear shambled out of the debris and snow-covered dead brush. The bear put them all on edge; they immediately took aim at it as it shook itself.

Baloo was down to butt naked, with no gear. He had a radio and that was about it.

“Hey, hey man, all friends here,” Baloo said, using his hand paws to dust his head off. He sat on his haunches and then proceeded to dust snow and debris off his shoulders and sides. “Your lot is a sight for sore eyes I'm telling you,” he said as the humans stared at him.

“What? I miss something?” Baloo asked, looking at his shaggy appearance. “Look fellas, I know I need a shower, probably several. Don't tell the ladies,” he quipped.

“Um, you're Sergeant Baloo?” the corporal asked.

“The one and only,” the bear said with a grin in his voice.

“Um … okay … how'd you survive this long, Sergeant?” Sergeant Winthrop asked, moving through the team to the front. He took on an air of relaxed interest, hands off his weapon. The rest of the team seemed to take the hint and settle down. They formed up around the bear and the sergeant.

Baloo scratched an itch with his long claws. “They ignore me if I look and act like a bear,” he said when Sergeant Winthrop stopped to stare at him.

“If you say so,” the sergeant finally said. He'd heard the Sergeant had gone through hell. He was a bit thin, though the pear shaped bear still looked fat on the haunches. “I'm surprised you're not hibernating or something.”

Baloo snorted. “Tried that. Not enough food reserve to go for a long stretch,” he replied. He yawned and stretched. “Damn, it's good to see you. The only good thing about this blasted cold is the fleas and ticks aren't out. Be glad of that. They hate winter as much as the rest of us I suppose.”

The sergeant snorted. “What happened to the shuttle?”

“Ah, man, if I'd been flyin that bird she'd of landed just fine,” Baloo said. “She came down and hit somethin in the snow. Nasty,” he said, shaking his head as he motioned the landing with his hand paws.

“We need to see it,” the sergeant insisted.

“Be my guest,” the bear replied magnanimously, waving them on.

“Ah man, that's gotta suck,” the sergeant said when he saw the wreckage four kilometers away. Baloo grunted. “But any landing you can walk away from I suppose,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” the bear replied. “Tell that to the crew and most of my squad. The lot of them are buried nearby. I'll show you the graves,” he said, shaking his head. Sergeant Winthrop nodded as he took images with his camera. “I still think I woulda put her down in one piece better,” the bear grumbled.

“Hope there ain't a weight limit on the helo,” a private murmured to the corporal. The corporal snorted.

<>V<>

Word spread that the first invasion force was on the ground. There were no numbers and little facts to go by. But the HAM radio network carried the news far and wide as a sign of hope that the long night was showing signs of lifting.

Colonel Weaver got the news and snorted. “Well, it's about damn time. Now when are they coming here?”

“We're on our own. Probably for a long time,” Tom said. The colonel grunted. “The mechs have pushed us south and west. Wintering in the Appalachian ski lodge last year was a good idea. But we're going to need another place like that soon. This winter's getting bad.”

“Winter all year round, how can you tell the difference?” the colonel drawled. He wiped at his mouth and then nodded. “We've got a lot of mouths to feed. Leaving some of the civilians behind at the lodge and the cabins nearby was a good idea. But if we head back that way, we might lead the mechs to them. I bet the other ski resorts are all booked up by now,” he said.

“Then we'll have to find someplace else,” Tom said, consulting an ancient map. As a historian he'd preserved such archaic things even in the days of GPS and auto navigational aids. Now he was glad he had. He just wished he'd had the damn thing laminated to preserve it instead of keeping it raw to maintain its “cultural heritage.” “We're just outside West Virginia. If we head south, we could maybe find Greenbrier. I've always wanted to check that place out.”

The colonel frowned thoughtfully. “Greenbrier?”

“Big old hotel. Lot of history there,” the history professor replied with a grin. The colonel snorted. He knew Tom and his hobby horses. “Golf course, loads of stuff around it, which was why it's been the way it is for so long; it's been a retreat for the powerful.” The colonel nodded. “At one time it was a backup nuclear fallout shelter for Congress.”

That tidbit made the colonel sit up and pay more attention. There was a reason he kept the historian close. “So it may or may not be occupied. You're not making a good case, Tom,” the colonel said, forcing himself to dampen his enthusiasm carefully.

Tom spread his hands apart in appeal. “Ah, but if it isn't occupied, we're set. If it is and they won't share, we can find some place near if we have to. And if it's in enemy hands, well, we'll just take it away from them, right?” He hefted his rifle.

“Right,” the colonel growled softly.

<>V<>

Attila heard the news over the ham radio. His team was still hunkered down in the base. He was rather regretting the death of the women. They'd fought, and he'd gone in guns blazing because they hadn't known what to expect. Now the men were getting wrestles. A woman or two would calm things down. Keep the place clean, keep them, well, not focused, but relaxed.

“There have been radio calls for us,” Vladek reported.

“And you know we're not talking, right?” Attila asked mildly. “We don't want them to know we're alive. We're going to hold up and let them do the fighting and dying.”

“We've got to come out sometime, boss. I mean, we've got plenty of food and water, but there is only so many times we can play cards. And only so much of four walls and the same faces a guy can take,” Bravos said.

Attila eyed him. Bravos, Lever, and Posey had been talking a lot at the outside guard shifts as of late. He was aware that all three men had been talking about walking. He was of two minds about letting them go or doing something about the talk.

“Can we do a raid?” Wladislaw asked. “Scout the nearby area,” he said as Attila turned to him. “Then pick off any stragglers? With that orbital bombardment, the A.I. might be reeling here. Possibly knocked out and out of juice. If we go in, smash them in the area, we'll be clear for a while. Possibly a long while.”

“And we just might run into a couple of refugees along the way. Someone to play with,” Posey said.

“Girls,” Gilpin drawled, eyes bright and eager.

Attila thought hard. He'd convince them, convinced himself that the best thing to do was to set themselves up as warlords and live high off the hog. He'd modified that plan when they'd gotten to the ground and saw how bad it was. Now he had to modify the plan again. He saw the way the mood of the men were going and decided to change tactics. He had to get ahead of it instead of stomping all over their enthusiasm. Otherwise, he'd lose complete control.

“What the hell. It's Saturday night. Let's go paint the town red,” he said.

That earned a cheer and wahoo from the group.

“Just as long as it's in someone
else's
blood,” Attila said under his breath.

<>V<>

“Do they know that shuttles don't grow on trees? The equipment lost so far! My word what are they doing, just
throwing
it away?” Senator Akins snarled. “Why don't we just open an airlock and shovel the money out that way? It'd be quicker,” he growled in disgust.

The president of Mars hid a wince. “Such is war,” she murmured. Losing the fully loaded Skywhale had sucked. She wasn't certain who had proposed the idea, but she wished she could rip them a new one. Each Skywhale shuttle had cost six times as much as a normal shuttle. Sure they could drop three times as much of a load in one landing, but only if they got down in one piece! The accident review board was having kittens over the crash. Not to mention the shuttles that had been shot up or shot down prior.