Robot Wars: Thrown Into the Fray

by Nicholas Haring

“Yes, sir?”

  “I want you to radio Williams’ headquarters; I need to know what’s going on.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Jones ran to his radio equipment which he had set on one of the remaining oil drums. He turned on his radio and tried to contact William’s HQ.

  “Captain!” Jones yelled as he came running up with the radio. “Sir, I have General Williams on, sir.”

  Jones handed the receiver and mic to Fischer.

  “General Williams, this is Captain Fischer, what’s the status on the reserves, sir? I thought …”

  “Sorry, Captain Fischer, but orders came down from the top; the reservists are to cover the passes,” Williams said over the radio.

  “Sir, if we don’t have a reserve in place …”

  “Captain Fischer, I suggest you move up to the front this instant; the rest of the regiments are already in position. The robots aren’t too far away, so I advise you get a move on it. I’ll deal with the reserve situation; you deal with the front, out.”

  “Dammit,” Fischer said under his breath. He didn’t understand High Command’s logic; it wasn’t a question if they were going to fallback, but when. They needed the reserves to help cover their withdrawal, but now the remaining reservists were going to be thrown into the valley passes, getting in the way of the 4th when they began to pull out of Leesville and Sherman. It was madness.

  “So, what’s the plan, Fish?” Rhodes asked.

  Fischer didn’t respond at first. He handed Jones back his receiver and mic.

  “All right, on the buses, everyone. Dark Horses and Lander’s squad we’re on bus seventeen; let’s go!” Fischer ordered as the soldiers and their equipment began to fill up the three buses in a hurry.

  Fischer was the last one to get on the bus as he took one last look around. He wondered how long it would be before they were racing back through here, trying to get across the river, before one of them would have to blow the bridges.

  “Come on, Cap, we’ll be back here soon enough,” Martin said as Fischer got on and Martin closed the door and put the bus in drive.

  “Heh… want us to start up ‘Wheels on the Bus’ for ya?” Fischer asked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat.

  “Why not,” Martin said, and then the Dark Horses started to jokingly sing it. The buses pulled out of the soccer field and headed south.

  Chapter 23

  Brookes had gotten off the bus as they arrived at their section of the concrete trench network, which had served as the bulwark of the Grantsburg Area Defense for quite some time. To the south, the land was scarred. Broken, barren trees and rusted-out robot hulks littered a veritable moonscape of blast craters. It was a surreal and horrifying sight to take in. Brookes had seen pictures of sights similar to this at the Academy, but this was right in front of her; she was there.

  “Hurry up and get your mortar set up, Brookes; there’s a mortar pit down in the trench to the left of the hideaway bunker,” Fischer said as he hopped down into one of the access trenches and headed for the front.

  “Yes, sir!” Brookes replied.

  “Robot territory sure is pretty, huh?” Sanchez said as he stopped next to Brookes. “Maybe one day we’ll take it back.”

  Sanchez jumped down to follow Fischer as Brookes went to the back of the bus to grab her mortar. She looked around for someone to help carry her ammo.

  “Do you need help, Lieutenant, sir, umm… ma’am?” a young reservist private asked.

  “Sure, can you grab the two boxes of rounds for me?” Brookes asked.

  “Yup,” the young private said, grabbing both boxes from the back of the bus. He lifted them up, grunting as he did. “Like lifting weights.”

  “Thanks. What’s your name, private?” Brookes asked.

  “Uhh… Samson, Reggie Samson; I’m in Sergeant Lander’s Squad,” Samson said with a slight smile as he adjusted the two boxes that he was carrying.

  “I see,” Brookes said, grabbing her mortar tube and hoisting it over her left shoulder. “Okay, follow me, Samson. Oh… I’m Lieutenant Madison Brookes by the way.”

  Brookes jumped down into the access trench and headed towards the front, with Samson following close behind her. Everyone else had already headed in with their gear and was surely getting ready by now, though Brookes couldn’t see them.

  *****

  “Oh hey, Lieutenant, you passed the mortar pit,” Jones said, poking his head out of the hideaway bunker and pointing to the access trench directly to Brookes’ left.

  “Thanks, Jones. What are you doing in there?” Brookes asked.

  “Setting up the communications gear; I finally get to really test out my R-99,” Jones said excitably.

  “Cool.”

  “Hey, drop by after you’re finished setting up your mortar and I’ll fill you in on those stop codes –- you know, if you want,” Jones said.

  “Okay, sure,” Brookes said as she turned to her left and headed to the mortar pit.

  “Stop codes?” Samson asked as he followed behind.

  Brookes’ heart was racing as she made her way down the trench; the anticipation was building in her. This is really happening, was the thought that raced through her mind over and over. The trench zigzagged to the mortar pit; she ran through it as fast as she could with her mortar.

  At the end of the trench was the mortar pit, it was three-meter square space, with steel attachments in the middle to secure her mortar with.

  “Okay, here we go; set the boxes on the right there, Samson, thanks,” Brookes said as she began to set her mortar up, and then nodded to where she wanted Samson to put the boxes.

  Samson put the ammo boxes down to the right of the mortar tube up against the concrete wall of the pit.

  “Perfect, Samson, I’ll be able to take it from here. Go ahead and grab your gear from the bus,” Brookes said.

  “Okay, you sure you don’t need any more help, ma’am?” Samson asked as though he were a little kid who wanted to stay.

  “No, I’m good; you should check with Captain Fischer after you grab your gear, he’ll tell you what to do next,” Brookes said as she was carefully preparing her mortar.

  “Okay,” Samson said with a little disappointment. He turned around and walked out of the mortar pit.

  It didn’t take long for Brookes to get things set up; she had everything organized and her rounds set up and ready to fire. She even pre-set her mortar to the maximum range of three-thousand meters. Her job was done for now, so she figured she would see Jones and ask him about the robot stop codes.

  *****

  “Hey Jones,” Brookes said as she went down the couple of steps into the hideaway bunker.

  Jones was sitting at a table to the right up against the wall, fiddling with his radio equipment.

  “Hey, Lieutenant, I was just testing the R-99; it works beautifully,” Jones said as he took off his headset and turned around.

  “Cool, so are you busy then?” Brookes asked.

  “Nah, I’m sure you want to know about the stop codes, right?”

  “Yeah, is that what you were writing down last night in the tent?”

  “Sort of. I was just confirming and double-checking the stop codes that the UMI sent down to us. General Williams placed Fischer in charge of issuing them when the time comes; heh… I don’t think Williams’ regimental commanders are even aware of that; they wouldn’t be too happy if they found out. You know it’s a miracle when the UMI and a Reg General both get something right,” Jones said, somewhat jokingly.

  “Yeah, so can you tell me about the stop codes? I never heard about them at the Academy, and Hartford only mentioned them once in passing,” Brookes said.

  “I’m sure Hartford told you about how the robots used to just stop strangely for no reason, right?” Jones said, and then Brookes nodded. “Okay, so the UMI has been trying to break the HRUO codes since the GMU Treaty, but the robots use an advanced, randomly changing terabit encryption algorithm; not sure how, they must have a
couple of super computers stashed away somewhere.”

  Brookes grabbed a metal folding chair and sat down next to Jones.

  “Interestingly, they discovered that during these freak stop occurrences that the code being broadcasted to the robots simplified immensely -- I actually helped discover it,” Jones said smugly.

  “How?” Brookes asked.

  “Well, before Fischer recruited me for the Dark Horses, I had been in the Signal Corps working with the UMI. I was actually at a battle that the Dark Horses were involved with. I was there listening in, trying to find patterns to the HRUO signals -- it sounds amazingly similar to old Morse code pulses -- but when the robots stopped, the signal changed to a series of zero pulses, and that’s when I realized that all their codes for all of their complexities, were essentially just a variation of stop and go; binary so to speak. It was a breakthrough. By simply listening in on the signals of every robot army we were able to determine certain patterns and then their simple stop codes,” Jones said, proudly.

  “Wow, so how come we just don’t issue out the stop codes and then bomb them to oblivion?” Brookes asked, though she realized that if it were that easy the war would’ve been long over by now.

  “The stop code only lasts anywhere from five to twenty minutes and for some unknown reason only after the robots have been engaged in combat,” Jones said.

  “So, the stop code only lasts for a matter of minutes. Why?” Brookes asked.

  “I suppose that’s how long it takes for the robots to realize we’ve hacked their signal and change their algorithm, and in turn, changing their stop codes. It takes weeks to get a new one, so we only get one stop code per army; if we’re lucky,” Jones said.

  “So why not just jam their signals?” Brookes asked, but also realized that there was probably another explanation for this too.

  “We tried in the past, but the robots’ response was just to jam our signals. Also, jamming doesn’t hinder them as much as you’d think. They just switch to a semi-autonomous state; it doesn’t stop them from attacking or moving. They don’t jam us, unless we jam them; it’s like some weird gentlemen’s agreement or whatever,” Jones said.

  “I see. So, we’re saving our stop code for when we have to retreat?” Brookes asked.

  “Correct. It should buy us enough time to get out of here, assuming they work, and our transports aren’t blown all to hell,” Jones said.

  “Thanks for filling me in on the stop codes, Jones; I’m gonna head back to my mortar for a bit,” Brookes said as she got up from the chair and headed to the bunker exit.

  “Wait, Lieutenant, before you go,” Jones said, quickly causing Brookes to turn around. “You haven’t seen Akiyama, have you?”

  “Not since we got off the bus, why?” Brookes asked. She thought Jones probably could’ve picked a better time to want to talk with Akiyama though.

  “Oh, no reason, never mind; I’m sure I’ll see her later,” Jones said.

  “O-Okay…”

  Brookes left the hideaway bunker and walked down the access trench that led to her mortar pit. When she got close enough she noticed someone was sitting inside. It was Private Samson, sitting down up against the left wall, with his legs spread out; his machinegun lying across his lap. He didn’t notice her as she entered the pit.

  “Samson, what are you doing here?” Brookes asked causing Samson to leap up quickly; his machinegun flying off his lap and knocking Brookes’ mortar out of place.

  “Oh shit, I’m sorry, Lieutenant, ma’am,” Samson apologized as he hurried to pick up his gun and then nervously tried putting Brookes’ mortar in the correct spot.

  “Hey whoa, calm down, Samson. Don’t worry about it; I’ll fix it,” Brookes said as she knelt down at her mortar; Samson stood up quickly and backed away.

  “So what are you doing here, Samson? I thought I told you to see Fischer,” Brookes said as she straighten up her mortar and re-adjusted the sights.

  “Oh, I did, I did. He told me to help you, since I told him that I helped you out earlier, ma’am,” Samson said nervously.

  Brookes with her back to Samson rolled her eyes and sighed.

  “Okay, Samson, you can help, but you need to do exactly what I say, understand?” Brookes said.

  “Yes, I will, ma’am,” Samson said as he quickly nodded his head.

  “Good, I guess I’ll have to give you a crash course in mortar operation,” Brookes said.

  “You don’t have to do that, ma’am; I can just hand you the rounds,” Samson said as he knelt down across from Brookes.

  “No, I think it’s a good idea if you’re going to help me out, for you to know as much as possible,” Brookes said.

  “Okay,” Samson said as he propped his machinegun up against the wall behind him.

  Brookes got on her knees behind the mortar so that Samson could see it.

  “Shall we begin the mortar tutorial then?” Brookes asked; Samson quickly nodded his head. “Okay, here we have the PM-2 60mm Plasma Mortar; it’s an improvement of the older M224; it fires a four-kilogram round three-thousand …” Brookes stopped when she realized she was losing Samson.

  “Samson, are you getting this?” Brookes asked.

  “Ehh… sorry, ma’am; I was never good at this stuff in school neither,” Samson said.

  “Well, Samson, the difference between school and now, is if you fail here -- you die, so try to pay attention; if not for yourself, then for everyone else, okay?” Brookes said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Samson said.

  “I’ll just give you the bare-bones basics then,” Brookes said as she turned around and grabbed a mortar round. “Okay, this is the high-explosive plasma round, underneath its stabilizer fin here, is a dial, which, when you turn it, readies the firing mechanism and sets the timer, depending on how far you turn it, determines how much time you’ll have until the proximity switch triggers. Now, it takes quiet a bit of force to turn it, so you’ll really need to get a good grip on it.” Brookes looked up at Samson who was nodding his head, but it didn’t seem like he was getting it.

  “Samson, what does the dial on the bottom do?” Brookes asked.

  “Umm… it uhh… readies the round, ma’am, and uhh… how far you turn it determines when, it will explode,” Samson said with a high annotation at the end.

  “Correct. After you turn the dial, you pull it out until you hear or feel a click. That means the round’s firing mechanism is activated and it’s ready to be put into the tube,” Brookes said as she put the mortar round above the bore of the tube.

  “I think I can handle that, Lieutenant, ma’am,” Samson said.

  “Okay, good, because I’ll receive the fire orders and do the aiming; I’ll then tell you how many clicks of the dial you need to turn it, and then you drop them in, once you’ve pulled the dial out. After you drop the round in, cover your ears and stay low and away from the mortar, got it?” Brookes said.

  “I won’t let you down, Lieutenant Brookes, ma’am,” Samson said as stood up and saluted.

  “Okay… okay, you don’t have to salute, Samson, you’re part of my team for now,” Brookes said as she waved Samson down.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Samson said as he sat down up against the wall behind him; Brookes went back to making sure the mortar was ready to go.

  “So how old are you, Samson? You look a little young to be in the reserves,” Brookes said.

  “I’m eighteen. I graduated from high school in May, ma’am,” Samson said.

  “Eighteen? Why aren’t you in college or in the regular army?” Brookes asked.

  “I uhh… I used to play linebacker for my high school football team; the scouts said I had the skills, but my grades were too bad to get a scholarship,” Samson said sullenly.

  “So how did you end up in the reserves? Most high school graduates do their two years of compulsory if they don’t get into college,” Brookes said.

  “My father is the Mayor of Grantsburg and is friends with everyone on
the local reserve board. He got me enrolled into the reserves so I wouldn’t have to go into the army,” Samson said.

  “Oh, I see,” Brookes said.

  “No, it’s not like that; it’s not like I had a choice in the matter. My dad -- he told me this was for my own good -- that he was going to figure-out something with his alma mater. I don’t care about college, but my dad won’t let it go,” Samson said as he started to tear-up.

  “I kinda know how you feel, Samson,” Brookes said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, my mother is a UN High Councilwoman back in New Omaha. She wanted me to go into politics; she even tried to block my entry into the Academy. I was furious with her. Even after I graduated she tried to get me transferred to a desk job, but I was more stubborn than she was. I dreamed of being in the Commando Squads ever since I was twelve,” Brookes said.

  “Wow, I wish I could stand up to my old man like you did your mom,” Samson said.

  “You just need to be firm and always move forward. What do you actually want to do, Samson? Did you want to go into the Regular Army?” Brookes asked.

  “No… I don’t know. I guess that’s my biggest problem is that I never know what to do. I’m always scared that no matter what choice I make, it’ll be the wrong one and that I’ll regret it later,” Samson said.

  “Well, Samson, that’s life. We have to make tough decisions, and a lot of the time, they’re never the right ones; we just have to make the best ones we can and if it doesn’t work out, move on. By not making any choices, you’re ironically making the worst one,” Brookes said as Samson hung his head low.

  “Yeah, you’re right, ma’am,” Samson said, still with his head low.

  “Hey, cheer up, Samson. You’re still young; some people go their whole lives never figuring that one out. Right now, I need you to be the best mortar assistant you can be; if we’re going to make it past tomorrow,” Brookes said.

  “I’ll do so good for you, ma’am, you’ll beg Fischer to have me transferred to the Dark Horses,” Samson said as he smiled.

  “Heh-heh, yeah well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Samson; we still have a job to do,” Brookes said; she looked at Samson who seemed to light up a little. Oh boy …