“Ethan does know my ship is going to see combat, right?” asked Hunt.
Lilly looked a bit worried at his response. “He does—I think that’s why he wants it. He wants to be with you, where the action is.”
Hunt saw this wasn’t sitting well with her, though. “You don’t want him to be with me, do you?” he pressed.
His wife didn’t say anything for a moment. Instead, she reached for her glass of water and drank some of it down, buying time. She finally looked him in the eyes. “Miles, I’ve nearly lost you twice in the last couple of years. Both of your trips to Rhea saw fierce combat. I know Ethan wants to be in the thick of the action; however, as his mother, if I’m being honest, I just want him safe. Isn’t there a safe duty you could get him assigned to? Maybe Chester could get him assigned to his staff or something.”
Lilly was practically pleading with her husband to do what he could to protect their son from possible danger. It hurt him to see his wife asking this of him. He wanted to help; he desperately wanted to keep his son safe. What father wouldn’t? He also knew that while he could work some connections and pull some strings to get his son a safe assignment, Ethan would never forgive him for it, and it might also hurt his career.
Looking at his wife, Hunt opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he stopped. He knew anything he said was going to be the wrong answer in her eyes. Sighing softly, he nodded. “I know this is hard, Lilly. I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t make any guarantees. We’ve got a lot of ships coming online these next few months. A lot of newly graduated officers are going to be getting assignments to them.”
Lilly reached across the table and grabbed his hand as she looked him in the eyes. “Please, Miles. If you can’t get him assigned to Chester’s staff or some other safe assignment, then please try to get him assigned to your ship. At least there, you’ll be able to look out for him.”
Hunt knew the chances of them serving together were close to nil. It was inappropriate for a son to serve on the same ship his father captained—nepotism and all. Lilly didn’t care. She’d badger him until he got their son a safe assignment.
Squeezing her hand, Hunt replied, “I’ll do what I can, Lilly. Now, let’s enjoy our lunch and the fact that we can dine together.”
*******
Vale, Colorado
Walburg Industries
Residential Retreat
It was snowing outside as Dr. Alan Walburg looked out the window to his office. Sometimes he caught himself staring at the snow as it fell. Ever since he was a child, he’d enjoyed watching the snowfall. Something about these fluffy white cotton balls of love falling from the sky just mesmerized him. No two snowflakes were alike—just like humans. Each was unique, different in its own way.
Returning his gaze to the computer terminal in front of him, Dr. Walburg recognized that his creations of the past were nothing like snowflakes. There was nothing unique or different about the synthetics—they were all the same.
But not these Synths. These will be different…
Like a genetically engineered crop, this set of code he was writing for this new breed of Synths was going to be drastically different from everything he’d created in the past. He still wasn’t comfortable with what he was doing. If humanity weren’t facing the real possibility of extinction at the hands of a brutal alien species, he wouldn’t even consider building these new combat synthetics.
The video he’d seen of the Zodark attack on the Voyager had pretty much sealed the deal for him. A second video he’d watched a month ago had given him all the energy he’d needed to finish this work. Like everyone else on Earth, he’d watched the video of the Delta soldier that had been awarded the Medal of Honor. The viciousness and brutality of this new alien threat had horrified him. The Zodarks had torn through the human soldiers assaulting the planet like they were rag dolls to be tossed about by an angry child. Dr. Walburg knew if he didn’t come to the aid of his species, he might not have a humanity left to defend in a few years.
No one knew when or if the Zodarks would attack Sol. What everyone did know was that if they attacked now, there was little the governments of Earth could do to stop them.
A soft knock at the door to his private office broke Dr. Walburg from his train of thought. He turned around and saw his wife standing there with a cup of hot tea and a plate with his favorite sandwich on it—pastrami on rye bread with all the trimmings. She’d even given him a bag of potato chips. He smiled at the sight. He and his wife had been married forty-six years—thanks to the invention of medical nanites, they’d probably be married for another thirty or forty more, Lord willing.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come down and eat dinner in the dining room?” his wife asked with concern in her voice. She was always telling him he worked too much and way too hard for his age.
For the last month, Dr. Walburg had secluded himself in his mountain retreat in Vale. When he needed to work on a sensitive project like this, he tended to avoid people. One of the best ways to do that was to sequester himself away in his mountain villa. Being the richest man on Earth did have its benefits, like being able to purchase a hundred-acre plot of land on the side of a mountain and build his dream home on it, which was exactly what he had done nearly thirty years ago. Now he used the place as a private retreat for top-secret projects like this or his own little side ventures he was known to work on.
Dr. Walburg smiled warmly at his wife. “Thanks, honey. I appreciate the gesture. But I need to finish this last bit of code.”
She nodded and placed the tray with the sandwich and drink on the side of his desk and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll leave you be, then,” she said before leaving his office and closing the door on the way out.
Dr. Walburg stared at the tea as if for answers; he hoped he was doing the right thing. He was essentially done with the code—the only thing left to do was make sure the safeguards were firmly in place, so that they couldn’t be overridden by some outside force. For all Dr. Walburg knew, the Zodarks could attempt to hack into the operating system of the machines he was building to try to change them—a repeat of what had happened during the last war. That was a nightmare scenario he desperately wanted to avoid. It was why his company had never used its considerable wealth to fight the ban on autonomous AI or its use in the synthetic marketplace.
Several hours later, the sun finally descended below the mountain, casting long, ominous shadows across the valley. Soon it would be pitch black, and it was only 4:50 in the afternoon.
As he finished tapping away at the keys on his tablet, Dr. Walburg nodded in satisfaction. It’s done. I’ve completed it…now it’s time to test it.
*******
The following morning, Dr. Walburg sent a message to his contact at Space Command that he had finished the coding for the combat synthetics. He was going to head back to his facility in New Mexico to begin testing. Once that was completed and the government certified they were happy with the product, his factory would start producing tens of thousands of them.
The only question Dr. Walburg had that Space Command still hadn’t elaborated on was how they were going to transport the new synthetics into combat or wherever they would be used. He knew the Zodarks had other worlds in systems spread across the galaxy, and he suspected Space Command would probably find a way to insert them into some of those planets to cause some chaos and problems for the enemy.
Dr. Walburg made a mental note to make sure there were no markings or other ways to track his machines back to Earth. The last thing he wanted to do was leave a calling card for the enemy to read: “Hey, this machine was built by Walburg Technologies on Earth.”
When he made it back to his facility in Alamogordo, Dr. Walburg saw the first combat Synth was waiting for him, ready to start the test.
The first thing they did to the machine was hook it up to his computer. Dr. Walburg then began the process of loading the programming code to the OS and thus giving it life. This part d
idn’t take as long as one might think, especially since he had a quantum computer and a specially designed cable that transferred terabytes of data per second.
A few minutes later, the download was complete. A few of the engineers, unique individuals that Dr. Walburg trusted with this kind of technology, began conducting various system tests. They went over the Synths’ protocols for what to do when a human was threatened, how to treat humans, when it was acceptable and not acceptable to wound or kill a human and how it would decide when wounding or killing a person was both appropriate and acceptable. Next they went through a series of questions about the Zodarks: when to attack, when to hold back, how to handle surrendering Zodarks, and when not to accept surrender. They had even included parameters to help the Synths know if the Zodarks were playing a trick, like what had happened on the Zodark carrier, where the Delta battalion commander and a group of their unsuspecting comrade had been killed by a surrendering NOS. The scenarios they needed to teach the new machine were far-reaching.
The model number for the Synth was C100—C for combat, and 100 was its serial designation. Dr. Walburg hadn’t necessarily like the idea of naming the Synth, but he also didn’t like thinking of it as property with a serial or model number either. As he thought about the name for this child he’d just created, he decided to call the first C100 “Adam.” It felt fitting that the first sentient machine created should have this name. His engineers came up with their own nickname, AA, for “Alan’s Adam.”
For the next several weeks, Dr. Walburg’s engineers went over thousands of scenarios with Adam about when he could and couldn’t use his capabilities to kill. They relentlessly tested his safety protocols until they felt confident he could not deviate from them.
In a way, Adam was much like a young child. He asked a lot of questions, as he should. But he also had an immense amount of knowledge. The challenge was teaching Adam how to use that knowledge to make better-informed decisions. They spent weeks going over Adam’s primary mission, to serve and protect the Republic and humanity. They made sure he fully understood that he was a soldier first and foremost.
After months of instruction, Dr. Walburg felt Adam was ready to start getting acquainted with his equipment and learning the specifics of his job. Adam was introduced to his military trainers, who worked twenty-four-seven, teaching him everything they knew about soldiering, weapons, tactics, first aid, and combat. They gave Adam enough knowledge to also act as a field surgeon or doctor to aid injured soldiers on the battlefield. This helped to make sure Adam was much more than just a killing machine; he could also be used to save lives.
Another critical part of Adam’s training was having him analyze thousands of hours of combat footage between the Zodarks and humans. Adam needed to fully understand how the human soldiers he’d be fighting alongside fought and how his enemy attacked. When they were deployed to fight for real, this training would give the C100s a real chance of making a difference. In a matter of weeks, Adam was as fluent in the ways of soldiering as his instructors.
When the military felt he was ready, they transitioned Adam to his equipment. He was taught how to use all manner of military equipment and what its limits were. The Republic Army soldiers and Delta soldiers made sure Adam knew not only how to use every weapon system the Earthers had but also how to fly and operate every piece of military equipment—everything from one of their infantry mechs to tanks, to their vertical assault craft or VACs and dropships. As they trained Adam, his knowledge was passed down to all the new combat Synths; the C100s were also being taught to function and operate as an independent military unit, able to deploy and carry out combat operations wherever their human masters ordered them.
The process of getting Adam and the Synth battalions ready for war was a daunting one. It was also scary, because if this technology was ever unleashed on Earth, it could wipe out humanity. These were the terminators of the twenty-second century, and Lord willing, they’d be the saviors of man in their greatest hour of need.
*******
A few weeks into the final testing of the new combat Synths, Fleet Admiral Chester Bailey, Captain Miles Hunt, and Lieutenant Brian Royce from Special Forces arrived for one of the demonstration events. This was Dr. Walburg’s chance to show off his newest creation and get final approval before moving the C100s into full production.
Admiral Bailey extended his hand as he introduced his two other guests. Dr. Walburg already knew who they were, of course. Lieutenant Royce was a war hero, the man who’d stood against the Zodarks and prevailed. Dr. Walburg was in a little bit of awe at meeting the man who had so courageously charged into the enemy and survived. It was his actions that had inspired Dr. Walburg to create some of the features he’d incorporated into the final combat Synth.
Captain Hunt was another man Dr. Walburg had great respect for—he’d fought the Zodarks several times in space and lived to tell about it. Hunt was also the man behind the newest designs in the warships being built. The visual appeal and complexity of Earth’s warships had seen a radical change for the better in the last four and a half years. They were larger and deadlier, and they actually looked like real honest-to-goodness warships.
Admiral Bailey took his seat near the demonstration quad. “Dr. Walburg, I want to commend you on a job well done,” he said. “I know you and your team have been working tirelessly on this project for years.”
Dr. Walburg just nodded. “I…hope they can serve their intended purpose and will ultimately save lives,” he stammered, then cleared his throat and refocused, speaking with more confidence. “What you are about to see is what we’re calling the C100. We personally named this one Adam. Everything we’ve taught Adam will be transferred to all the subsequent production models. This means each model coming off the assembly line will have his shared knowledge and experiences built into them on day one.”
A minute later, the doors to a nearby room opened up, and two of Dr. Walburg’s engineers escorted Adam out for them to see. This was the first time anyone outside of his small team had seen the final product. Until now, they had only seen the test Synths they’d been using.
Admiral Bailey let out a soft whistle when he saw the combat Synth. Adam moved toward them. Lieutenant Royce stood up as he surveyed the beast of a machine.
Adam stood eight feet tall, had broad shoulders, and looked scary as hell. Adam didn’t have synthetic skin covering his metal frame as a standard Synth had. Instead, most of his exoskeleton was either exposed metal or armor-plated. His metallic frame or skin was also unique in that it could mimic its surroundings; in a wooded environment, his outer shell would morph into those color schemes to match what was around it. Likewise, in an arctic environment, his metallic skin would morph into a color scheme to match. His sleek and fierce design was both extraordinarily beautiful and uniquely terrifying at the same time.
Adam’s face was also unusual. While it had a human-looking feel to it, its eyes were a one-inch band that wrapped around the front of the face from ear to ear. This gave Adam a full 180-degree view of everything going on in front of him. In order for an observer to know he was turned on and not in a passive or recharge mode, he had a single blue light that tracked from right to left.
Adam made his way over to Dr. Walburg and his visitors, stopping a couple of feet in front of them. “Hello, Father. How may I be of assistance today?” Adam asked in an all-too-human voice. The voice projected calm, despite the killing machine’s intimidating features.
Admiral Bailey chuckled. “You have Adam calling you ‘Father,’ eh, Alan?” he asked with a grin.
Dr. Walburg shrugged. “I am his creator,” he replied casually. “He knows me as Father or Dr. Alan Walburg.”
He turned back to face his creation. “Adam, I want to introduce you to three very important people. This,” Dr. Walburg said, gesturing to Admiral Bailey, “is Fleet Admiral Chester Bailey. He is the supreme commander of the Republic’s military. He is your overall commander.”
Adam
extended his hand, as he had been taught to do, and shook Admiral Bailey’s with just enough pressure to show respect and strength without crushing his hand.
“This is Captain Miles Hunt,” Dr. Walburg continued. “He’s a ship captain. His ship fought our enemy, the Zodarks, in space on several occasions, and brought us many victories. He is also one of your superiors.”
Adam extended his hand to Captain Hunt as well. The C100 machine then intuitively turned to look at Brian Royce. Dr. Walburg knew that Adam immediately recognized the difference in military uniforms. He also knew that Royce, unlike the other two people Adam had just met, was an enhanced, augmented human soldier.
“This is Lieutenant Brian Royce, a Delta soldier in the Republic Army Special Forces,” Dr. Walburg confirmed. “He fought the Zodarks in hand-to-hand combat; you may recognize him from the combat footage we had you study.”
Adam also extended his hand to Royce and commented, “You are the great warrior I was built to assist. Father has shown me the videos of your combat. You fought with great courage—fearless, but reckless in many of your battles. Did you not care if you died?”
Dr. Walburg blushed at the question. “Sorry about that, Lieutenant,” he said, trying to intervene. “Adam here is still learning how to properly interact with people. Right now, he has the emotional characteristics of a young child.”
Royce just laughed. He looked at the machine as he replied, “Adam, you’re right. I did fight with reckless abandonment. In those moments of combat, I knew if I hesitated in the least, the Zodarks would most likely kill me and my teammates. If I wanted to survive, then I had to be willing to die. In throwing away that desire to preserve my own life, I was able to save it, as well as the lives of the men and women who fought with me. Does that make sense?”
The machine stared at Royce for a moment, processing what he had just been told. “Yes, it makes sense, Lieutenant. I believe I have much to learn from you.”
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