by John Ringo
“You can tell they’re baffled,” Riggs said quietly. The glass was two-way and not particularly thick; he didn’t want them being thrown off by the comment. “They don’t scratch their heads, but they have other tells.”
“Roger tries to stick his hands in his pockets, and he fidgets,” Shane said, nodding. “And Tom rubs his beard. Alan just throws his hands up in the air like…” He waited a moment and then chuckled as the environment-suit clad engineer straightened up and threw his hands up in the air, gesticulating wildly and clearly on the edge of shouting.
“But I’ll say this for them, they just won’t give up. Roger has been in there almost twenty-four hours a day. I’m not even sure he has slept this week. He probably wouldn’t have eaten if his girlfriend, uh, what’s her name… Tami… you know the one with the huge knockers…”
“Traci?” Gries asked.
“Yeah, that’s it, Traci. Anyway, she has brought them food and occasionally makes Roger quit to take a shower or a nap or something,” Riggs grinned.
“Damn, Traci, huh? I had no idea.”
“Anyway, since Roger briefed us on France he’s been… different. Hell, we all have, but Roger… well, I think he thinks it’s his fault somehow.”
“France?” Gries asked.
“Nobody has briefed you?”
“Sir, we’ve been pretty much spinning our wheels since we returned. And like you said, Roger has been busy.”
“Shit. I’ll get somebody to brief you as soon as I can. Europe is… bad.”
Roger looked over his shoulder at the two observers and shrugged. Then he tapped Tom on the shoulder and waved to Alan.
The two soldiers met the engineers at the exit to the clean room and Danny raised an eyebrow.
“Not going well?” he asked neutrally.
“Not at all,” Roger admitted. They’d been studying the probes for a week and hadn’t been able to give one progress report. “We think we’ve found their motivator, the inertialess drive. But supplying power doesn’t get it to work. And we’ve found something that looks like the brain, but it’s a solid mass of silica and metal, mostly metal. And we’ve found what has to be their power source. But it’s…” Roger paused and rubbed his bloodshot eyes.
“Impossible,” Alan said, flatly. “F’n impossible! It’s a ball of hollow metal about the size of a baby’s fist. No fuel, no external supply. Just… a ball of metal.”
“And it’s got to, somehow, supply power equivalent to a multistage rocket,” Tom pointed out. “The runs from it shouldn’t even be able to handle the power. We know these things can accelerate at something like a hundred gravities. Even with their relatively low mass, we’re talking about terawatts of power and there’s no way that the power runs that we’re seeing could handle that load. And we’re still not sure what the tractor beam is generated by. Nothing in this thing makes sense.”
“The brain is the worst,” Roger said. “It’s unbelievably complicated. I mean you’d expect it to be, but this thing is light years beyond our current tech. I think it’s basically a controller chip, but it’s constructed in three dimensions. We’ve been trying to do that for decades but, besides the sheer difficulty and expense, the programming algorithms are a bitch. And the actual processing seems to be at the atomic level. We don’t have the instruments to study it, here, much less make head or tail of it.”
“What do you want to do?” Riggs asked.
“Give it to other people,” Roger replied definitely. “We’ve got three of the brain cases, if that’s what they are. We’ll send one to the redoubt at the LockMart facility in Denver, another to MIT, and the last one to Georgia Tech. Tech’s setting up a redoubt using some of our plans, so they could hold out even after Atlanta gets hit. Hopefully they can make some sense of it. I’m also going to request that all the data be turned into open source. We need anyone and everyone looking at this data. We don’t know who might have the right way to look at it.”
“That will need authorization,” Riggs pointed out.
“I’ll bring it up with the secretary, but I think I have that authority though I’m not sure,” Roger said. “But we need to make this information open to the public.”
“They’re going public with the fact that we sent a team into Greenland and it won a small battle with the probes,” the general said, nodding. “If we start putting out data about the probes it will be obvious where it came from. I’ll suggest making it a two parter. Do a dog and pony show with Shane and his team along with the bits of probes that we recovered. Civilian morale needs a shot in the arm; it’s getting really low.”
“I couldn’t believe the media when I got back,” Shane said, nodding. “It’s all doom and gloom.”
“There are plenty of people who have just given up,” Riggs admitted. “All of the media included.”
“Not that I particularly want to do a dog and pony,” Shane added. “But I think it will help.”
“I’ll call the Chairman,” Riggs said musingly, then chuckled. “You know, a few months ago I was surprised he knew my nickname. Now I’m calling him just about every day. Or, more often, he calls me. Strange.”
“Hell,” Roger said, trying to be humorous with his deepest accent, but his tiredness, fear, and somberness was hard to overcome. “Ah’s a deputy secretary with the weight of the world on my shoulders. How strange is that?” He said through a very thin, pursed lipped, halfhearted smile.
“As strange as getting invaded by metal probes from beyond the solar system?” Shane asked, shrugging.
Chapter 20
Ret Ball: So my friends, if you are still on the Internet then you haven’t been overrun by the machines yet. If you happened to catch the news of the team that went to Greenland — that’s right Greenland, they’re getting awfully close to us now — then you know that the machines can be beaten by our military. I wonder though: Can we beat them in a full out attack? We’ve lost contact with China and Russia and all of Europe. Parts of Africa and India are out of contact and I’m hearing rumors from my friends in the South Pacific that Japan is under attack. What do we do, friends? I’m taking your calls and e-mails here tonight on the Truth Nationwide. Bart from Chicago, you’re on the air.
Caller: Hello, Ret. I served in the 801st for six years and I have to tell you that this is something we’ve never trained for. As far as I can tell we’ve lost all satellite communications and GPS. We’ve lost our capabilities to use radar and radio comms. And it looks like even flying is now out of the picture. When was the last time you saw a plane in the sky?
Ret Ball: That is a good point, Bart. I haven’t seen a plane for at least a week now. What do you make of it?
Caller: My guess is that the Chinese and the Russians put up a good fight and tipped the machines off to human military technologies and tactics. If those things can take out our sats then why not our planes? I bet they’re doing to us just what we did to Saddam in the Gulf Wars and putting the planet under a no-fly zone.
Ret Ball: Oh my gosh! I never thought of that. I bet you are right, caller. Thanks for the call. Aha, Megiddo is on line three! Hello, Megiddo you are on the Truth Nationwide. Tell us what you know.
Caller: Hi, Ret. My wife and I have taken to underground literally and I suggest that we all do this. I’ve been thinking about the Von Neumann probes’ mode of attack.
Ret Ball: Yes, do tell.
Caller: Well, they’re attacking the cities and the industrialized complexes. But they aren’t doing this because they’re militarily significant.
Ret Ball: Oh? Then why?
Caller: Materials. It’s plain and simple. The alien machines must need raw materials to replicate themselves. And what better place to find a lot of already refined materials than in the big modern cities? Think about how much metal is in one office building alone. The thoughts of that are staggering because it must have taken them several years to transform the Martian surface. And then it took them more than a year to transform the Moon. But not Earth. We
have so many materials available and ready for them that they probably can’t eat it fast enough. That is probably the only thing slowing them down!
Ret Ball: My God! You speak truth, my friend!
Caller: Indeed! I suggest everybody get out of the cities and make as far into the wilderness as you can. Prepare by finding natural sources of water and foods and bring and store as much nonperishable foodstuffs as you can. I can only imagine what the poor people in the occupied regions are going through.
Ret Ball: Hey, you bring up another good point. Why have we heard nothing from survivors or refugees from the occupied zones? Are there no refugees or survivors? Thanks again for your call, Megiddo, as always you gave us a lot of food for thought. Next caller is Tina from Alabama. Hello Tina, you are on the Truth Nationwide.
* * *
Alice Pike was good at what she did. In fact, there were those in certain circles that said when it came to developing microprocessor technologies and superminiature space-hardened electronics that there was no equal. Dr. Pike had taken the “brain tube” from the wrecked bot the Huntsville Redoubt was keeping and had it scanned with every type of analysis tool known to man. She had it put through X rays, electron microscopy, MRIs, electric field mapping, magnetic field mapping, acoustic mapping, heat conductivity, reflectivity, conductivity, superconductivity, diamagnetism, and a host of other tests.
The only thing she could figure was that there were patterns within the tube but they changed. After each successive X ray, the internal patterns looked different. So at least she knew that the brain was active in some way. The question was if it was changing on its own or if the X rays were changing it? Alice could think of no way to tell. She was stumped.
“This is impossible,” she muttered to herself as she looked at the various diagrams and sensor images of the interior of the brain tube.
“What’s impossible, Alice?” Roger Reynolds and Traci Adams had slipped in behind her to observe but not to disturb.
“Jesus, Roger! Don’t sneak up on me like that. You nearly scared me to death.” Alice looked away from the monitors for a second and rubbed her eyes.
“I thought you might need this.” Traci handed Alice a cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” Alice said as she grabbed the cup with both hands and held it beneath her face to savor the aroma and to feel the steamy warmth against her skin. The stimulus relaxed her and settled her nerves a bit. She took a big swig from the cup. “I really did need this.”
“So, Alice, what is impossible?” Roger asked.
“This crazy thing!” she pointed at the brain tube. “I’ve scanned it in everyway I can think of and I can’t make heads or tails of it. The electron microscopy shows these various regions of different densities and my guess is that these regions with the curvy bands here are some sort of interface or junction between different materials like the junctions in semiconductors. But these smaller spots that are peppered throughout the thing… I just have no idea. Oh, and every time they were X rayed some of them changed.”
“Changed? How?” Traci sat down by Alice to get a better angle on the monitors.
“Well, that varies. Sometimes in size and sometimes in position.” She shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Roger, look here!” Traci pointed at the monitor. “You see that spot there and then over here there are these two spots in the subsequent photo.”
“Yes, I see. So?” Roger could tell that Traci thought she was on to something but wasn’t quite sure what.
“I noticed that earlier, Traci. But I can’t make heads or tails of it.” Alice pointed out two other similar sets of images.
“Don’t you see… of course y’all don’t, you’re not that type of physicist. Those are like targets in a decay shower in an accelerator experiment or like we see in the atmosphere when cosmic rays hit it. It’s a decay chain. That is something nuclear going on there, ” Traci pointed out excitedly and smiled. “Uh… oh my.”
“What, Traci?” Both Roger and Alice asked in unison.
“Was this thing checked with a Geiger counter?”
“Oh Jesus!” Alice gasped. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“Well, wait a minute. Don’t get excited now. We checked this thing out thoroughly when it first came in.” Roger calmed them. “There was no radiation.”
“Yeah, I realize that Roger. But… some sort of decay has taken place in it since the X rays. It could be hot now.” Traci shrugged her shoulders.
“Let’s check it out.” Roger picked up the lab phone and called the operator. “This is Dr. Reynolds, put me through to my secretary, please.”
“One minute, Dr. Reynolds.”
“Dr. Reynolds’ office, this is Sarah, can I help you?”
“Sarah, this is Roger.”
“Yes sir?”
“I need a Geiger counter in room 247B in the lab facility in two minutes. Would you see to that for me please?”
“Right awa,y Dr. Reynolds.”
“Thanks.”
* * *
“But I’m telling you that looks like a fission or a decay chain or an air shower of some sort. That is the result of something subatomic!” Traci argued.
“Well, then if it is, somehow the fragments are stable and not hot,” Roger said. “Perhaps that is how this thing sends data or something.”
“Oh hey, there’s a thought! Statistical decays have been used for stable clocks for years. Why not use one for logic gates… hmmm?” Alice started scanning through the images more closely. “Not to be rude, but… I have an idea and I think better without interruption.”
“Alice, is that your polite way of telling us to get the hell out of your hair?” Roger asked.
“Yes.” Alice smiled sheepishly.
“Come on, Traci. We have other things to do. Alice, keep us posted.”
Alice didn’t respond. She was already too involved with her train of thought. Decay chains for logic gates…
* * *
The old copper mine had begun to take shape and was becoming more “lived in” every day. Helena had added some more homey touches to the main chamber once the electricity and plumbing were completed. She had brought down some of the decorative pieces from the cabin, including some picture frames, a painting or two, an afghan that her mother had knitted for her, a few throw pillows, and a couple of lamps.
The electrical wiring and plumbing that had been run along the floor and around the walls were now mostly covered up by two by fours and paneling on the walls and two by sixes and a combination of decking, plywood, and OSB particle board on the floor. It had taken more than thirty trips down the mountain to town to every hardware store and lumber yard to find enough materials to finish the interior of the shelter. Since the effective martial law on resources due to the alien threat, only minimal materials were available. He did manage several buckets of 10D nails, an assortment of woodscrews, sheetmetal screws, some nuts and bolts, a few cans of spray paint, and several gallons of leftover paints — Helena made him buy the paint. There would probably have been no way to gather enough materials to complete the interior of the mine shafts had he not come across an abandoned horse barn a few miles outside of town.
Richard had watched the barn for a couple of days as he made trips to town and saw no activity there. Once he stopped he realized that the wood was probably more than fifty years old and nearly petrified to the point that it would never rot. There was some termite damage so he picked up some chemicals at the hardware store that took care of that. He had spent several weeks since he had begun the shelter in the mine tearing down the barn and hauling the materials up the mountain and down the mine shaft. Some of the materials he had used to repair some minor storm damage to the cabin that had been their home while the shelter was under construction. Helena still spent the majority of her time there, but Richard had convinced her that the time would come when she would be happy to be down in the old abandoned copper mine.
So, Helena had pitched in and helped make
the underground environment more habitable. She had done almost all of the painting and decorating. In fact, Richard had seen no need for flooring or wall surfaces other than the rock and dirt the mine provided. Helena had “convinced” him to add the flooring. Richard had grown particularly fond of Helena’s methods for convincing him to do things; there was always nudity involved — lots of it.
As it turned out, Richard was quite pleased with the flooring. He laid it down in a way that allowed him to run plumbing, electrical outlets, and Ethernet underneath safely and out of the way of foot traffic. This also gave him the ability to do repairs and upgrades underneath the false flooring as needed.
Richard was surfing through the software manual for the radio frequency spectrum analyzer control system. The damned thing was the only piece of equipment that he seemed to be having trouble bringing online. The ultraviolet/visible/infrared system he had bought gave him no trouble setting up. The mass spectrometer had given him no problems. The electron microscope had given him no problems except that he nearly pulled a muscle in his lower back trying to move it. He had had to upgrade to a larger pull cart and finally broke down and got the electric four-wheeled vehicle. Once he had that, his construction and moving went much faster. Helena had been telling him that for months, but he wouldn’t listen. It was actually she who had convinced him to buy the thing — she had grown tired of the long walk.
Richard continued plowing through the software control manual for the RF spectrum analyzer and tapping in instructions. There was little success. He looked at the output on the computer screen and there was nothing but a line of white noise across the entire RF spectrum. He knew that was bogus because he had several multigigahertz microprocessors operating in the laboratory room of the mine at that moment… but nothing.
“All right, Dr. Horton, what are we forgetting?” he said to himself. He set the manual down and restarted the device — still no luck. Then he noticed the little omnidirectional antenna still in the clear plastic bag sitting on top of the monitor for the analyzer.