The Nubl Wars (The Pattern Universe Book 3)

by Tobias Roote

  He pulled up the wall console that gave him access to the new real-time 3D image of the solar system that he could enlarge with a simple wave of his hand and pulled the orbit of the Earth into main focus. He commanded the computer to show its defences whereby thousands of green lights swarmed around the planet. The larger one was Alpha Station and as he followed the line of lights further out into the system he noted the placement of the early warning drones were now evenly spaced out, taking in the orbits of Jupiter and Mars. If we only had a defence platform further out in space we could catch them unaware, he thought.

  He zoomed in on the asteroid belt and the glimmerings of an idea began to form in his mind.

  He switched his vidscreen to MILS1, the military space-port that held the new fleet survey vessels. They now had a small, but growing fleet of well-armed multi-purpose vessels which they were planning to use to explore the solar system and beyond, searching for any advantage they could gain from whatever they found. He now had a mission for one of them.

  “Commander Tang. I need one of your ships for a secret mission. Get it prepped for an in-system flight. I will send over the orders within the hour,” he ordered.

  “Explorer II is provisioned and crewed. It will be ready, sir,” Tang responded smartly. It had taken Pennington months to get Tang to the point where he wouldn’t salute every time he was on vidscreen. He still looked as if he was at attention when speaking to him. No bad thing, I suppose, he decided.

  “Excellent! How are the new battleships coming along?” The latest designs had already incorporated technology that had been discovered on Nubl ships. The nanite swarms allowed for modifications to be made regardless of the ship’s state of build, as they could eat their way into the hulls and bulkheads forging new pathways for equipment and wiring. The space-yard now incorporated anything new as they went along. There was even discussion of having swarms located in isolated areas of the ships that could be used for in-battle repairs. Pennington hadn’t signed off on that yet. He was no Luddite, but was cautious about giving access to a potential threat to a ship in space. Uncontrolled, those little buggers could open the ship to space killing everyone on board.

  ***

  An hour later, Pennington looked out the window, oblivious to the view across the island and out to sea, he was looking inward. His thoughts were with all of the cities and towns that had been eradicated by the invading ships. The damage done to the infrastructure and the sheer immensity of the task before them in rebuilding and preparing for a new onslaught was immense, almost beyond comprehension. Pennington wasn’t a man to be put off by the size of a problem. He just broke it down until it became multiple smaller problems that he could either resolve, or delegate.

  Finally, he turned to President Garner, who had arrived a few minutes previously drowning in his own personal depression. He was waiting to hear Pennington’s decision on tackling the issue of AI autonomy in deciding on battle strategies.

  “OK, I will ask them if there is something that can be done,” he said, referring to the science team on Alpha Station. They would have to come up with some idea of increasing the level of communication between the SCN and the AIs, or forcing the AIs to be accountable to the SCN in some way. He found it strange that concerns over AI involvement in managing the war was coming from all directions

  Both the SCN and the Council had fought a hard fight with the Nubl, but it had paled into insignificance when they had reported back to the SC on the outcome of the battle and involvement of AIs in the defence of Earth. Bearing in mind the war that was being conducted against Earth was something completely new and terrifying, the additional concern that the very AI technology being used to defend them, was of the same ilk that was attacking and destroying them, seemed in-congruent with SC philosophy. The result was an almost riotous council meeting.

  In the meantime, Frank needed his support, so Pennington placed his own concerns to one side, knowing full well that he no longer had any fear of being over-ruled by the SC. Things had changed and he wasn’t about to let them revert back to political fudging.

  “Whilst they can be forgiven for ramming their fear up your backside, Frank, it’s not going to amount to anything. They no longer have any control over what happens here, or anywhere else for that matter,” John told him reassuringly. “It’s up to Zeke Callaghan what happens, or doesn’t happen, up there with the AIs and we have no involvement other than using them the best we can. Although I will say, the fighter pilots are up in arms over the new regulations imposed at the behest of the Council.”

  He knew Frank didn’t like it, but it was the truth. So long as money and access to technology were the driving forces behind their Navy and the SC, then Zeke Callaghan and Pod were the arbiters of their future.

  Pennington clasped his hands behind his back as he stalked his office. Maps of the Earth’s local space and known positions of all the technology up there adorned his walls. Notes and stickers were everywhere, each reminding him of yet another task to be resolved, the colours indicating urgency, or importance.

  “I have it on good authority that many a pilot came to a private arrangement with their own AIs to supersede those rules during the fight with the Nubl,” he added.

  Frank shook his head. “So, the stupidity of the regulations becomes apparent at grass root level. We should just disband the Council, it has no real meaning any more,” Frank answered him, aware that he sounded petulant, but aggrieved at the intransigence of the SC after so much work had gone into getting it formed and making it effective. All that had gone out the window when the Nubl attacked and the infrastructure collapsed from extensive damage caused by the enemy weapons. They were all on the defensive now, he thought to himself, remembering his earlier conversation with Devlin.

  “I don’t think we should consider that, Frank, but there is a big difference now in the issues facing us. As a global government there is too much petty involvement of individual nations. We have to move forward - and this impasse over the AI involvement ‘has’ to be resolved.”

  “Yes, I know. Maybe it is time to shed ourselves of the Council, but that means running the SC like a dictatorship, and I’m not sure we’re ready for that,” Frank was wavering. He knew the decision had to be made, their attempt to bring all countries in line had failed, but to do away with the individual country representatives altogether might bring on a land-based war. They couldn’t afford the diversion. The SCN could manage it, after all they were pulling the EU under control and bringing things back from the edge.

  Pennington turned towards him. “You know, purely in the interests of the survival of Earth, I will back you whatever you choose to do. In normal times I would oppose you, but we need strong leadership right now and this battle has brought it home to me that we are a long way from just such a position.” He turned to stare out the window again.

  “Do what you have to do, Frank. Just call me when you need my support. I didn’t gather all of this military power just to sit on my hands in an emergency,” he smiled wryly in an attempt to encourage the President into a more positive mood. “In the meantime, I’m about due to go see Mr Callaghan. I have a war with the Nubl to win and the scientists tell me the technology from the wreckage is not going to be enough to achieve it. Apparently we need better integration.”

  Pennington’s comms chimed, warning him that he was about to be transported to Alpha Station.

  “Speak of the devil, and he shall call,” he said as he vanished from the office.

  ***

  When Pennington disappeared, Frank Garner raised himself slowly from the stuffed armchair and made his way out of Pennington’s office, still downcast. He was a man with a heavy burden. He reminded himself that it was no different to being the President of the USA. He might report to congress, but it was his decisions on a day-to-day basis that kept the wheels turning.

  The only trouble was, he knew that in all probability the Earth would not survive these attacks. He was captain of the Titani
c and there was nowhere to go, but onward to meet their fate.

  His office was bedlam. He could see Dorothea trying to cope, but he left her to it and slipped in through his private entrance. She saw him enter and diverted a councillor so he wouldn’t observe him slip past them.

  As Garner sat down, he picked up the messages his PA had left on his desk. Dorothea came in with two of his senior aides. Of the four he had, these two were by far the most useful. John Radcliffe, the Australian, and Eric Bradley, the European, were both veteran politico’s and staunch supporters of Frank’s presidency.

  Eric spoke first. “You need to do something, Frank, they are getting mighty uppity, they’re talking about forcing you to resign.” He was referring to the SC who were all taking a beating from their own countries for the SCN’s failure to protect Earth from the Nubl attack.

  “It’s not their call, Eric, you know that,” Frank replied tiredly, gesturing for them to sit. Dorothea walked to the coffee machine and dialled in their favourites. As the machine began to spit out coffee, she turned and with her arms folded defiantly, added to Eric’s concern.

  “That last councillor informed me that without complete agreement to withdraw the AI influence, he was going to recommend the restitution of national governments. He reckoned there was considerable backing for the move since the attack.” She turned back to serving the coffees.

  “The problem with that, is that there is no going back to the old governments. They just don’t exist in the format they once did. He’s just responding to the emotional aftermath of the attack. Everyone is terrified, and they have good reason to be. Alone we can’t survive an attack from these aliens. It was only the AIs work behind the scenes that kept us alive this time,” Radcliffe spoke up, his twang sounding brash in the tense quiet of the room.

  “Well, that and the shield defences the AIs gave us,” Frank added. “These attempts by the councillors are pure politicking over the their lack of control. We’re all feeling that we are no longer ‘in control of events’, but instead are being ‘controlled by them’ and what goes on up in space. And, because space is mostly full of aliens and AIs, the people naturally feel vulnerable, their future uncertain. They’re right on both counts, but it’s not the fault of the AIs,” he said.

  “What will happen if the councillors try to take back national controls?” Dorothea asked.

  “It’s not going to happen. We have already been asked to intervene in Europe. There is little effective local government out there without the force of the SC behind them.”

  Frank looked round at them, he knew what was happening wasn’t his choice, but he had a responsibility to guide the people of this planet to a safer ending than was being threatened. The trouble was, he had no real belief that he could make that much of a difference to the final outcome. He’d already seen the research from the Jenari history and knew that their fate would be the same. He’d already set in motion top secret plans to preserve humanity with an exodus of colony ships. He hoped there was time to launch them on their way before the final reckoning.

  Radcliffe pressed him. “But, what if?”

  Frank leaned back and sighed. As if any of it really mattered in the end! He looked at the others who needed to know there was hope and their leader had the answers. He hadn’t, but they didn’t need - no, they didn’t ‘want’ to know that.

  “We have military and law enforcement backing in the event it is needed,” was all he said.

  They looked at him and understood the unspoken message. He would take charge by force, if necessary.

  - 3 -

  Alpha Station

  Pod enjoyed the freedom of the upgraded ship. The AI welcomed the hardware upgrade from the previously cramped emergency-pod which was now safely ensconced in a newly designed pod-launcher with a very basic level four AI installed, dormant until activated. Pod had carried out many enhancements since taking the spaceship over from Arty and it was now a hybrid of Earth and Pattern technology.

  In the aftermath of the battle with the Nubl there had been so much to do clearing up space. Debris was being found and assessed then D-jumped to Alpha Station to be stripped of new technology before being disintegrated by modified nanites for regeneration into sections for new ships.

  Arty was working out well as Alpha Station’s AI, and for some reason, had established early on that it was a ‘he’ and was now referred to in the male context. Perhaps it was his voice that had been responsible, but more likely a deliberate act by Ossie when he built the AI with a deeper sounding voice.

  Zeke had commented that Pod had a female sounding voice so, was Pod a ‘she’? Pod brooded on the memory of the Jenari Pattern Ship’s voice which was neutral sounding and could be interpreted as either. While Pod actually remembered Zeke and Zirkos discussing such things early on in the project, Pod was left thinking hard on whether to sexualise its identity to make it easier for humans, or whether by subconsciously setting its voice to female, Pod had already set the tone for human responses. By all accounts Pod should sound like Ship with a neutral toned voice.

  “Are you day dreaming, Pod?” Zeke asked.

  “No, Zeke, why do you ask?” Pod instantly responded, being brought back to the present by Zeke’s comment.

  “Because you have just flown past Alpha Station.” He looked up at the camera set over his console, and grinned.

  Arty interrupted them. “I take it that you two are planning on a scenic tour around our tiny little NEO belt seeing as you missed my approach beacons by a fair distance.”

  Pod said nothing and D-jumped into the hangar directly, forestalling any further commentary from either. The whoosh of displacement caused Osbourne to leap back from the remains of a Nubl Shadowship he was inspecting. The other scientist beside him was not so lucky and fell forward causing Osbourne to leap over to help them up.

  Before Zeke could say anything he was summarily jumped outside the ship by Pod, next to the two white coated youngsters. He chuckled as he looked back at Pod’s external cameras, giving a little wave. He was rewarded with seeing its lens close, as Pod shut the camera down.

  “What’s the hurry, Zeke?” Ossie called out as he helped the other scientist up.

  “Oh, I think Poddie just got caught out daydreaming by Arty and didn’t want to talk about it,” Zeke laughed. He saw Ossie pulling someone up from the wreckage.

  “You okay there?” he asked, then noticing the immaculate white coat realised it had to be a newcomer. Most of the scientists let theirs get grubby, it identified them as establishment.

  “Ah! You must be one of the new scientists that we managed to convince to take a leap of faith into space.” Zeke’s eyes took in the young lady who was recovering her balance after falling over. She was quite tall and her hair had fallen out of the tidy ponytail it was in. She was grabbing it to stop it from flying around in the slightly lower gravity. With her pen held between her teeth, she sorted her hair leaving it to Osbourne to introduce her.

  “This is Phillipa, she’s our new astrophysicist specialising in high-energy technology and astrochemistry. We are trying to replicate the Shadowship’s composite hull so we can improve on it for our own ships, but also work out how to effectively attack it.”

  Phillipa, now with hair firmly under control and pen back in pocket, put her hand out. “Hi, sorry, but I haven’t adjusted to the different gravity yet, it being off-centre makes me a little unbalanced.”

  “That’s okay, we all fall over a few times until we get acclimatised. It’s worse when you go back to Earth. They have no idea what’s wrong when you stagger around like a drunken baboon,” Zeke chuckled. Then seeing the alarmed look on her face, he apologised. “Sorry, I just have a zany sense of humour. I’m Zeke, by the way.”

  She smiled, flirting. “Oh, I know who you are, you’re the famous Mr Callaghan. I hope we get a chance to discuss some of your experiences with the aliens, the technology they have available is enviable,” she said as she turned back to concentrate o
n the structure she and Osbourne had been examining. He had just been dismissed, her fresh enthusiasm taking over her complete attention again.

  Zeke smiled and walked off towards the control room, which looked a bit different now that the station was populated with fighters and their flight crews. The maintenance and engineering staff were still getting settled in and a lot of work was being managed by robots, which was causing a bit of a stir among the human workers.

  They all understood the need for them. When the hostilities commenced, the hangar bays would be left open to space with just a light repeller beam holding in atmosphere and its inhabitants. It would be dangerous work and while the robots were dispensable, the humans were not. A failure of the beam would vent everything that wasn’t bolted down.

  As Zeke walked through the large airtight doors and into the main corridor, he was impressed at the amount of work that Pod had achieved single-handed. Even now tireless nanite manufacturing was producing new nanites to add to the trillions that already made up the structures. As such the whole place was looking very classy and modern with a distinct human touch that Zeke suspected was a result of Arty working with the human team in the control room.

  When he arrived at the working hub of the station, things had changed noticeably from his last visit. He pushed on through the swing door that acted as a sound barrier and immediately saw there were now twelve consoles, all of them manned. The hubbub from the electronics, the conversations and verbal reporting by Arty caused the implant in his head to buzz. He shook his head and it stopped. Arty had watched his arrival and the movement, and duly announced him.

  “Admiral on deck,” he quipped using Zeke’s official title for the Space Navy, given to him by Garner and Pennington. Mainly a decorative role, it did have the advantage of him getting the best food in the Space Island restaurant, and he never had to queue for anything. He hadn’t yet been forced into one of their over-dressed uniforms though.