“Get the other ships on the com. We might need some help. And someone has to pick up that wormhole. It doesn’t need to hang in orbit around that hell when we can use it elsewhere.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Every major player is working on this technology of artificial intelligence.
As of now, it’s benign… but I would say that the day is not far off when
artificial intelligence as applied to cyber warfare becomes a threat to everybody.
Ted Bell
KLASSEK, MAY 4TH, 1002.
“What in all the hells are they doing?” asked President Rizzit Contena, his two primary eyes focused on the holo that showed the enemy ships hanging in space thirty light seconds from the planet, his two motion eyes moving this way and that. Objects were leaving those ships, thousands of them, all quite small as far as projectiles or missile weapons were concerned, none massing more than ten tons, most of them much less. And all on a ballistic course for the planet.
“I have an idea, Mr. President,” said Major General Travis Wittmore, staring at the same holo in his office. The Machines had fought their way past the tiny system picket, losing one ship while blasting the defensive force to plasma. The thirty ships that made it through had tried to bombard the planet at a distance, but the newly installed orbital defenses had blasted the launched weapons to pieces as they approached. The weakness in the Machines attack had been obvious. Even though their missiles were large, and capable of taking some punishment from lasers, the strike of a fast moving counter missile was still enough to destroy one. The Machines didn’t deploy missiles in large swarms capable of breaking through a defense in depth, while the orbital satellites, hundreds of them, could put a swarm of thousands of counter missiles out to intercept the large weapons. Only a few got through to test the inner defenses, and the mass of lasers and particle beams took them out.
If the Machines had carried more missiles they could have launched a second wave that would have gotten through. Or if they had more ships. They had shot their bolt, and it seemed that their only resort would have been to close with the planet, to within effective beam weapons range, and resort to the long, slow process of burning the planet from space. The problem with that strategy was it would bring those same ships into the range of the space and ground based weaponry that now bristled in its numbers.
“I think they are launching an invasion, Mr. President,” said Wittmore, watching as more and more of the objects appeared. He was sure that there were many more that were not showing up on the plot, too small, or too well stealthed, scattered among the tens of thousands they could track. “Put all of your land and air warfare units on full alert.”
With a thought over his implant Wittmore alerted all of his own units, the Marines and soldiers that had been stationed here to help him keep order on the planet. That included two brigades worth of Marines in heavy suits, as well as an armored division and two light infantry divisions. And, of course, two aviation wings, one air superiority, the other general purpose. They were already at their stations, as they had been since the Machines had entered the system. He knew the Klassekian soldiers had been at the same readiness status, but now it was time to get everything into the air, all the ground troops out of their lagers and into the field, so nothing coming in from orbit could take an entire unit out.
“Can we destroy them before they get onto the planet?” asked the President.
“I seriously doubt it, Mr. President,” replied the General, watching as the swarm, now over a hundred thousand strong, headed in to the planet.
* * *
Each of the Machine packets was a specially designed reentry pod, capable of landing from a hundred kilograms to nine tons of robots. Along with them were some antimatter bombs, using grabber units to maneuver onto targets and cause major disruptions among the planetary reaction forces. Very few of these were expected to actually get to the ground, the energy generation needed to contain their antimatter and move them about making them the easiest objects to track among the swarm. That was fine with the computer mind that controlled the assault. Weapons tracking and firing on those bombs would not be firing on any of the other packets.
When they were a light second from the planet, moving in at a velocity that would cause them to burn up in the atmosphere if they didn’t slow, the orbital defenses took them under fire. Thousands of objects flared and died under the coherent energy that swept across them. The larger packets shrugged off minor hits, while the smaller, though easy kills when hit, were the more difficult targets. Before the planetary batteries opened up tens of thousands of objects had already been destroyed. Several tens of thousands more died under the continued assault of orbital and surface batteries. Some were burned out of space, their molten remnants finishing their destruction as they hit the atmosphere. Others were hurt enough that they tumbled on hitting the gas envelope and also either burned up, or hit the ground in a damaged enough condition to fly apart on impact.
As the intact packets entered the atmosphere they were in the engagement envelope of aerial attack craft and anti-aircraft batteries. The one hundred and four Imperial atmospheric attack craft were well suited to taking out these kind of objects, and each accounted for scores before the enemy reentry hit the ground. The Klassekian built craft, even those that had been improved by Imperial tech, did not do as well, though they still took out several thousand, the ground based anti-aircraft batteries a couple of thousand more.
Over forty thousand objects hit the ground. Fifty-four of them were the antimatter bombs, all within the twenty megaton range. One medium sized city went up in a flare of fire, along with a dozen towns and three airbases. The rest hit in relatively empty areas, relatively of course being relative. A hundred thousand Klassekians still died in those blasts, and local com systems were taken down by the EMP.
The majority of the packets carried robots. As soon as the packets impacted, slamming into the ground at forces that would instantly kill any organic passenger, they opened, and the passengers got out, stopping for a moment to incorporate some of the reentry vehicle into their armor. Most of these were robots similar to those that had attacked Bolthole, slightly larger than human constructs armed with particle beams, a head mounted explosive projectile weapon, and a tail mounted laser. Other units combined to become light tanks, while the poisonous wasp robots flew out in their swarms. Some of the robots configured into aerial vehicles, boosting into the air on antigrav and hunting for targets.
And, of course, trillions of nanites disembarked as well, spreading out to accomplish their task, building more weapons and units, and infiltrating the organics and their machines so they could attack from within. And, unseen by the planet’s defenders, several score specially built robots burrowed deep into the earth, their mission to set up factories that could build more of their kind.
As soon as each group was ready it attacked the nearest target, sure that the military units they needed to destroy would come to the aid of their helpless breeders.
* * *
Communications went down all across the planet. Fortunately the Imperials had been hard at work training the natives in the manufacture and use of their own technology, and there was a strong backup system installed all over the world.
They really can’t think they will win? thought Wittmore, looking at the holo oblong that was the globe of the planet flattened so he could see all of it at a glance. There were red blotches all over that surface, and green dots moving toward them, his response forces heading toward the infestations. There were also tendrils moving out from the red marks, the machines on the move. And no telling how many columns that they didn’t know about.
“All reserves have been called up and placed under your command, General,” said the President over the com holo. He was currently in his command bunker, deep under a mountain along with his military brain trust, including his sibling, the Klassekian in command of the indigenous forces. “That includes all of our police forces.
Is there anything we should be doing that we aren’t?”
“No, Mr. President. It looks like your forces are moving to their assembly areas as we speak. Make sure your people know the importance of attacking as soon as they can, driving to contact and through the enemy. I‘m holding my ground forces in reserve, to come to the aid of any of your forces that can’t handle their assigned foes.”
“Can we beat them?” asked the President, his face showing the signs of anxiety that only someone who knew his species well could recognize.
The General knew them well enough, and had no problems reading the being. Can we beat them? He had seen the reports from the Donut, sent through their wormhole to New Gaea, then through a series of Klassekians until they got to him. That had been a tough fight, against a Machine force that was not at the height of their tech level due to the materials they had at hand to build their robots. Here they were facing war machines as good as the enemy could build them. And they were capable of building more of their own, while he couldn’t replace his own troops with trained solders without months of time.
“We’re damn sure going to try, Mr. President. Now let me get to my business, sir. I‘ll make sure you get progress reports.”
He killed the holo before the President could say another word. Not that he was trying to be disrespectful to the civilian ruler of the planet. But he had things to do if this battle was to be won. First, he looked again at the holo globe, making sure that every landing site had a military unit assigned to it. He didn’t like some of the force mixes, as some units were armor heavy while others were nothing more than light infantry. The tank units might give good accounts of themselves, while he was sure the light infantry, lacking even rudimentary armor or energy weapons, would basically scout the enemy by dying. But he needed to intelligence on every position, and the drones he had been sending over had been shot down with ease.
He switched the holo to one of the Klassekian units that was moving in on a machine position. This was a mechanized unit, a dozen armored personnel carriers with an infantry company and two tanks in support, as well as a trio of mortars set up at their own extreme range. He had a drone flying low to the rear of the combat team, banking on the enemy being too focused on the oncoming troops to bother with it. The dismounted infantry walked forward, staying under what cover they could find. The armored vehicles moved with them, interspersed along the line, weapons readied.
The angry red of a particle beam came over the top of one of the hills surrounding the machine nest. Nothing was visible but a small object that protruded over the hill, which seemed to be both sensor head and the nozzle of the particle beam weapon. It buzzed like a swarm of angry insects, linking the object to one of the armored personnel carriers instantaneously. The beam ate through the thin armor and into the body of the vehicle, which exploded outward as its ammo and fuel were torched. Shrapnel and larger pieces of the vehicle took down nine infantrymen, while the beam swung across a dozen more of the foot soldiers on its way to another vehicle. That vehicle went up in a flare of fire, pieces of its small turret looping through the air to hit, bounce and roll.
“Order your men back,” said Wittmore over the com to that battalion commander. “Try to keep together and fight them all the way.” And then we’ll see if they can handle something more advanced.
Wittmore hated doing it, but now he was reaching for intel. The beings dying on the field of battle were giving him that intel, and he was hoping that he could use it to smack the robots once and for all. He knew that really wouldn’t be enough comfort to the Klassekians who died to get that information, or their families. He knew he wouldn’t feel any worse if those dying people were Imperial citizens. They were intelligent beings, after all. The information was vital though, and the only way to gather it was by fighting for it.
The Klassekians pulled back as fast as they could, vehicles rolling in reverse with weapons firing, infantry staying as low as they could get while running flat out in their unusual gait. The particle beams continued to fire, a tank went up with turret flying through the air. Objects started to appear over the hill, about the size of a human or Klassekian, maybe a little larger. Two, then five, then a dozen, firing particle beams and moving at a steady pace down the hill. One of the particle beam projectors moved, lowering, then rising, while the upper body of the thing they were attached to raised up over the hillside. A moment later the first leg stepped over, revealing the robot, and Wittmore stared at it while breathing a sigh of relief.
They still use mecha, he thought, amending that in an instant. Mecha, the giant mechanisms that some species used instead of tanks, had a living pilot. These were robots, plain and simple, though they resembled mecha. Mecha were something the Imperial Army was still using at the time of the Machine revolt, and many of the revolting war machines had been mecha like robots. Nice to know they don’t have the imagination to evolve their weapons systems.
Some of the Klassekians had advanced weapons. A few had been issued simple hyper-velocity missile launchers, not in the same class as the weapons the Imperial military used, with only half the velocity, but good enough. One of the few, maybe the only surviving one, in that company opened fire, and a red streak seemed to instantaneously link the launcher to the ten meter tall robot. The gunner had perfect aim, or perfect luck, one as good as the other, and the missile hit center mass of the torso, erupting through in a white hot explosion that was echoed by the eruption of molten metal from the back. The robot took one more step forward, then shook on its wide spread legs for a moment, before falling back to hit on the hill and start a slow slide down.
“Where is that air support?” growled the General, keeping an eye out on the holo globe of the planet, where red dots were growing and blinking, indicating the activity of that part of the fight. The hyper-velocity gunner didn’t have a chance to reload. The particle beams of four of the man sized robots converged on the Klassekian, vaporizing him and all of his weapons. The male was a hero, but the General was sure his family, especially his birth siblings, would take little comfort in the medal.
The robots suddenly turned their attention to the horizon, firing missiles and particle beams, which were quickly returned. The two remaining mecha like robots were hit by streaking missiles that blew out their insides, their small antimatter warheads adding to the destruction of the kinetic strike. Smaller munitions followed, and every man sized robot on the field was all but vaporized. The Raptors flew overhead, slowing on their grabbers, their sensors looking down at the remains in the crater the robots had come from. There was movement down there, and a particle beam came up and glanced from the electromag field of one of the fighters. The four combat aircraft released weapons into the crater, until there was no activity.
“Move your people back in, Colonel,” ordered the General to the regimental commander of these Klassekians. “Pick up anything that looks useful, but if it looks dangerous, I want it smashed.”
Wittmore changed the view to another fight before the Colonel could reply. Time was of the essence now, and he wanted to make sure that everything the Machines had landed was being handled. This time he was watching an Imperial Marine unit, flying low over the ground in their heavy suits. The suits were all cloaked in stealth fields, almost invisible. Several launched microdrones that sped away, flying over the edge of the crater, all sensors set on passive. That was all that was needed to pick up the robots that were moving around in the bottom of the impact crater.
It was actually a double impact crater, the close landing place of two of the machine probes. About a dozen of the man sized robots moved in the crater, setting up other machines. Smaller robots, with the look of insects with blurring wings, hovered above them. The drones were noticed almost immediately, and the man sized robots fired on them, while several dozen of the insect bots attacked more directly, swooping in and grabbing the even smaller probes with their legs and spraying them with an acidic compound.
The Marine platoon leader stopped h
is men, unwilling to risk them in going over the crater berm. His three heavy weapons suits set down on the ground and the multipurpose box launchers on their backs rotated into place on extended arms. A moment later they fired, three fast moving rockets flying straight up in streaks, reversing less than a second into their flight and driving down at thousands of gravities acceleration. All of the suits had by now set down and hunched into positions of resistance to what was coming. Each missile, really the equivalent of a mortar, though with enough velocity and the short flight time to make them difficult targets, slammed into the ground, each generating more than a kiloton of force.
The LT waited a moment for the blast wave to pass, then ordered the unit forward. The first squad bounded into the air, hovering over the lip and spraying the smoking crater with particle beams. Two seconds later second squad also jumped into the air with their augmented mechanical legs and soared over the lip, coming down to landing in the crater, weapons ready.
“Clear,” yelled out the squad leader, and the LT and the third squad jumped, the squad coming down on the other side to form a perimeter while the officer landed in with his men.
“What are those machines?” asked Wittmore over the com, as the remains of what the robots had been working on came into view through the advanced sensors of the suit.
“They look like diggers,” said the Marine Lieutenant, his suit sensors showing the remains of the machine. The screw mechanism on the front of the machine, a half meter of solid alloy, was mostly intact, while the cylinder behind it was truncated, melted metals showing how the particle beam had sliced through.
Diggers, thought the General, a shiver running down his spine. There was only one reason they were setting up that kind of mechanism on the surface of the planet. To get fabber machines out of sight where they could produce more of the robots.
Exodus: Machine War: Book 2: Bolthole Page 28