Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War (96 page)

“It will make it harder for them to hit targets from range. They will be forced to move in and do the job by hand,” Nezha concluded.

“Agreed,” Tengu hissed. Skynet attempted to put the recommendations of its generals in perspective with its mission to terminate all humans.

It took time for the various tendrils of the hive to come to an agreement. The human shields would serve its purpose; they would buy the A.I. time. They would serve as bait for traps, while doing the enemy psychological damage when injury was inflicted.

But most of all, it would eventually finish the job anyway when it had the proper tools in place.

<>V<>

General Martell saw the reports of robots chaining humans to instillations and grimaced. “There ought to be a law! They have sunken to a new low,” he snarled, shaking his head. “They are forcing us to engage on their terms or hold off entirely.”

“But we can't do that indefinitely, and the A.I. know it. It is obvious now that they have to know the humans are only good to them alive. If they die, then we move in anyway,” Elliot stated blandly.

“Which puts us on the horns of a dilemma,” General Martell said. “The ticking clock.”

“Correct. Unfortunately, they have got a ready supply. The robots can go and round up more when they need to. We have to cut off the supply,” Colonel Sinclair stated.

“Agreed,” General Murtough said over the radio.

“And we can't do that from here in Africa. And hell if we're going to try to evac that many people from a warzone!” Elliot stated. “It can't be done. Not to orbit. No way, no how. Nuh uh, ain't happening.”

“I know. War always has casualties, however. After World War II we became squeamish about it, attempted to limit the damage. It got to the point where any civilian loss of life was unacceptable. No more. We're going to have to eventually take them out, one way or another,” General Murtough said roughly. He closed his eyes in pain. He felt for the kids who would have to storm those buildings, see people die.

“It'll suck for the kids on the line, General,” Colonel Sinclair said, echoing his thoughts.

“I know. And it'll be hard on the soldiers we will have to send in to possibly kill them,” General Martell said. “But it must be done.

“Don't say they'll get over it,” Colonel Sinclair said.

“I'm not. It'll haunt them, and it'll haunt me until my dying day. But it has to be done,” Isaac said. “We'll hold off the air attacks for the moment. Focus on finding their power lines and cutting them. They'll eventually run out of power.”

“And then what's to stop them from killing the hostages anyway? Or threatening to do so?”

“For the moment none of the A.I. are willing to negotiate with us. And even if they did, I couldn't take what they said or offered; they have no honor, no reason to follow through on a promise or stop themselves from committing an atrocity. Quite the opposite is true, they will take advantage of any weakness we show. This is one such. We will have to deal with it,” General Murtough said.

“One way or another,” Elliot said softly. “We are going to win. One way, or another.”

Chapter 38

March 15, 2202

Jack was doing his best to keep his temper as the committee droned on and on. It wasn't going well, progress was going fairly well on the ground, better than expected in some areas, less in others, but it was obviously that it wasn't fast enough for the politicians. And the bean counters! He shook his head in resignation at that.

But it was becoming clear to even the hardest heads that what they had wasn't enough. Sure they were taking back territory, helping the people there. But every meter of ground was contested. Every meter had to be fought over, and sometimes fought over more than once. They not only had to take the ground, but also hold it.

Which meant the pace of the offense was visibly slowing. Which wasn't going well in some circles. Throw in the news of the hostages and things were starting to get ugly. Which was why they were having this meeting among many he mused unhappily.

“We need more people. We underestimated the number and condition of survivors on the ground. Less than 2 percent are mentally and physically fit to help with the fighting. Most have severe PTSD on top of a host of physical conditions. It may be years before they can return as productive members of society,” the congressman said, shaking his head.

“I know.”

“My nation … people need more help. You aren't supplying enough,” the congressman said, practically pleading for support.

Jack hid an annoyed grimace. The politicians had talked a lot until they'd finally seen the images and video of the people on the ground. Many had looked like holocaust victims, bare pot bellied skeletons that had once been human.

“Congressman, with all due respect, there aren't
any
nations left on Earth. No organization beyond the small community level if we're lucky. Most people are huddled in family groups or gangs. The national lines, it's all gone. A clean slate with one common enemy.”

“I know that. But … we need more. More people. A draft …”

“You seem to forget, there is
no
unemployment in space. You pull your weight or find a job where you can do it there. Period. With the robots out, we've had to step up more, with more people doing jobs a robot would normally do. What you see on the ground and in the pipeline is
it
right now,” The Martian president said flatly.

“It's not enough. It's what, barely 1 percent?” the congressman said, waving a hand. “My nation sustained a 5 percent level for centuries!” She had reportedly been in tears when she'd read the last census estimates of Earth. They had started the war with twenty-two billion souls. That number was now estimated at below four billion and dropping by millions every day as the last remaining stocks of food ran out. The current models projected a loss of another two billion people before they finished liberating the planet.
If
they ever finished.

“And that is ignoring the fact that we need everyone where they are at right now. If someone quits to go fight the war, we don't have them to fill that position.”

“But …,” the congresswoman protested, almost in tears.

“Secondly, 1 percent means two hundred thousand people have gone off to fight this war so far. Of that we landed what, seventy-five thousand in Africa in the first week? With
27 percent
losses in the first twenty-four hours?” the Martian president demanded. “We can't sustain that! No one can!”

Jack winced. The numbers were a bit misleading. It was 27 of the forty thousand that had participated in the initial drop. Some of those had been injuries, not deaths however. The number of losses had gone up the following week until it had stabilized. They were still hemorrhaging people, but at a much more reduced rate.

The problem was, the robots went for the kill. They had their share of wounded, but a lot of people were flat-out killed in the fighting if they fought without support. There was also the threat of the environment and the constant threat of mental breakdowns as the constant combat got to people over time.

They couldn't send everyone to Earth either. Some people needed to be held back, to not only train the next generation but to also be held in reserve in case the virus ever got off Earth. If it should ever infect a colony or Mars, they needed the troops to go in, restore order, and dig the robots out.

Such was not a pleasant thought. Nor one that he wished to repeat in the current forum. They had enough on their minds; he didn't need panic.

They were going to need to start rotating the troops off the lines soon. That meant the pace was going to slow down even more, he thought bleakly. Fortunately, some of the troops who were rotated off might rotate back into action within a month or two. Such a pace wouldn't be sustainable long term. They'd need considerable downtime to decompress eventually, but it was a thought.

They could also rotate troops back to Mars or other posts in space to train the next generation he thought.

“We need another option,” the president said.

“I don't see one,” the congressman said mulishly.

“The price in people is too high. The president is right; we can't afford to take such losses, not and win. This is just the opening moves of the campaign folks; it is going to get harder when we run into true resistance,” Jack warned.

“You have an idea?” the president asked.

“Actually, I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that we're going to have to bite the bullet on one we've been avoiding. It's morally repugnant. It will cause a lot more damage, but we've got to face it.”

“More bombardments?” the congresswoman practically wailed. She shook her head.

“Of a sort. But I'm talking about setting off explosions in the stratosphere. If we do it right, there won't be a lot of radiation on the ground. If my engineers have gotten the prototypes working right, there might not be any at all in some areas.”

“What are you talking, Jack?” the president asked.

“HEMP,” Jack replied. “It will cut down on existing hardware for Skynet to use. A lot of the surviving civilian hardware will get knocked out by the EMP.”

“But
more
nuclear weapons??!?”

“I know it sounds counter intuitive,” Jack said. “But these will be engineered to focus their explosive force into EM discharges instead of radioactive material. If we set them off all at once, it will clear an area like a massive broom. Then the troops can move in faster to help the refugees and take down any remaining resistance.”

“But it won't affect hardened infrastructure, units, or military equipment,” the congresswoman replied.

“No,” Jack said, shaking his head. “But it will cut down on the tens of thousands of civilian electronic hardware they have to contend with on top of all of that.”

“Oh.”

“It will give people on the ground a better fighting chance.”

“But won't Skynet attempt to stop us?”

“It can try. In fact it will. I know Ares and the other military A.I. have the ability to interdict space above their continents.”

“So why try at all?” the congresswoman demanded peevishly.

There was a long silence before the Martian president answered. “Because we need to do something. Every little bit helps, right?” Jack nodded. “And if we can use this, and it saves millions …”

“We'll be that much closer to ending this in our lifetimes,” Jack rumbled.

The congresswoman and senator winced. They exchanged looks. “We'll need to consult with the other world leaders you understand,” Senator Brakin stated.

“Of course.”

“We're in contact with forces in the Middle East. A Mister Yousef is in charge of a large contingent of survivors. Perhaps we should consult him?” the congresswoman asked, turning to the Senator.

“Um, any warning on the ground will give Skynet time to prepare. It will hide units, bury them, disconnect power circuits or do its best to harden its hardware in other ways. Shielding such as lead shields for instance,” Jack said holding up a hand.

“It may be already doing that, Jack,” the Martian President reminded him.

Jack nodded grudgingly. “True. But we don't know that for certain. What we do know is that it is using what it has now while also making new killer robots and weapons. So any we can take down, even if it is a former toy being used as a surveillance drone, we're in the win column,” Jack stated.

“Agreed,” Senator Brakin said with a long exhale. “May God forgive us all for what we must do.”

Jack nodded. Personally he was pretty sure they were well past that point.

<>V<>

Wendy rubbed her temples as she dealt with the latest fallout from her father's boondoggle. Apparently some of the surviving owners of the station components that made up Olympus wanted their stations back. They had first attempted to submit the request to the ruling committee, only to be shunted around. Finally they'd ended up filing a grievance and class action lawsuit in various courts.

The venues hadn't been the proper place to do so; after all, Mars had no jurisdiction over Earth orbit. They had then shifted to courts in the Lagrange points.

Wendy had wanted to ignore the nonsense, but a sympathetic judge had filed a stay on the usage of the hardware pending a review of the case. That had kicked it up publicly to the media's attention and had started a bit of a firestorm.

A lot of people had ignored the idea of recovering from losses. After all, you couldn't sue the A.I. It was war. Nor did they want the image of being a scrounge when the hardware was obviously needed. Now though, with a toehold on Earth, they wanted to get back to their lives and rebuild their businesses.

Jack in his infinite wisdom had come up with a compromise. Instead of tearing the station apart and trying to figure out who owned what, he had offered to build them a
new
station. One exactly like the previous one. That had been very appealing to the plaintiffs, so after getting a contract, they had dropped the suit.