by John Dalmas
When 2nd Platoon got back to the company area, there wasn't any real discussion about their evening. A few comments, but no actual discussion. In fact, the hut was more quiet than usual.
Jael Wesley was the first to take her toiletries bag and head for the latrine to brush her teeth. When she was almost there, she met Isaiah Vernon on his way to the hut. On impulse she stopped him.
"Isaiah," she said, "can we talk? Privately somewhere?"
His eyes widened. "What about?" he asked cautiously.
"I don't want to stand out here and talk about it. Where can we go that's private?"
For a long moment he stood silently. What would Esau think? Jael was so pretty and so nice, more than once he'd caught himself drifting into a fantasy about her. A guilty fantasy. It was well, he'd told himself, that they trained so hard and had so little time to think. "The dayroom," he said at last. "That might be all right."
She knew where it was, though she'd never been inside it. She led off, Isaiah following. No one else was there, and they sat down opposite each other at a reading table.
"It's about agreeing to be turned into a warbot," she said. "If someone's badly wounded and going to die."
He stared at her, then realizing he needed to respond, he nodded.
"I'm thinking about signing," she said.
His mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out for several seconds. "That's something you need to talk to Esau about, not me."
"I will. Before I make any decision anyway. The reason I want to talk to you is, you were studying to be a speaker. So you must have read and reread all the books, and thought about them a lot. And the first thing I need to know is… "
She groped, clarifying her thoughts. "Like I told Sergeant Hawkins, I'm afraid of great pain. And I don't trust myself to be signing for the right reason: to help out in the war. I might just want to be rescued from great pain, or not spend the rest of my life all crippled up. You see. But God might want me to experience those things. To suffer in those ways."
Isaiah's expression changed, showing not worry now, but focus, and his answer, when it came, was expressed as a speaker might have phrased it. "Jael," he answered, "you've read that sometimes God tests people, as in the case of Job, and Abraham. But there's no sign that he'd have punished them if they'd failed."
"But what about suicide?"
"Suicide?"
"If I caused my crippled body to die, on purpose and ahead of its time, would that be suicide? And if my brain got cut out and bottled, then when God gathers the blessed to rise, and if I qualified, would I be resurrected as a warbot, or a person?"
Isaiah frowned not in disapproval but in thought, then shook his head. "First of all, all I can tell you is how it seems to me. The Testaments don't speak of that, nor does Elder Hofer's Contemplations. But it seems to me a warbot is a person. Because it has a soul. And as for resurrection- If a person gets eaten by a tiger, his flesh becomes tiger flesh, but he won't be resurrected as a tiger." Jael shook her head at that, rejecting. Isaiah continued. "And martyrs that were burned at the stake won't be resurrected as smoke and ashes. Nor cripples as cripples. God wouldn't resurrect them all humped over or twisted, or short an arm or leg."
He watched her thoughtful eyes. She was even prettier than he'd allowed himself to notice before. Finally she nodded. "Thank you, Isaiah," she said. "You've been a big help." Then she got up and left, leaving him sitting there.
Feeling guilty, because he hadn't been entirely honest with her. It seemed to him they wouldn't be resurrected in a body at all. He'd thought that when he was a child, and had gradually come to believe that when the time came, folks would have no interest in bodies. They'd just be souls.
Which of course brought up a lot of questions about the Testaments themselves. That was why he seldom let himself think about such things. The thing to do was trust in the Lord, and hope God would forgive his errors. Elder Hofer-and his own father-had always stressed that God was love.
Three more trainees of 2nd Platoon went to the orderly room that evening and signed warbot agreements. Jael Wesley was not one of them; she wasn't ready yet, if she'd ever be. The company as a whole signed 10 more; given those who'd signed earlier, that made 15. Now, Mulvaney thought, if we can get the other 145 signed up…
Chapter 25
Status Review
The mahogany table and wall panels glowed with golden sunlight, the ten-foot-tall window fields adjusting both the intensity and the blend of wavelengths. The entire Commonwealth cabinet was there, along with several high-ranking officials of War House and the Office of War Mobilization. Elsewhere, selected others watched on live, closed-circuit video. Whether in person or electronically, attendance was by invitation only. For some, this cabinet meeting was their first.
Prime Minister Foster Peixoto presided, with Chang Lung-Chi beside him; since the invasion, the president invariably attended.
The prime minister began with a brief caveat. "First you must all remember-MUST ALL REMEMBER-that what you hear in this meeting is confidential. Repeating any of it without authorization can result in a charge of insubordination or even treason. The Ministry of Information decides what will be released and when, and clears those releases with myself, in consultation with the president."
He looked them over, allowing his injunction to sink in. "Most of you are well informed on one aspect or another of our plans and progress, but not on all of it. What I will do here is summarize major areas. Others may elaborate on them.
"Our central strategy is and must be to stop the alien advance. At some point we must defeat their armada in space, which requires a great fleet well crewed. Which of course we do not have. Meanwhile the aliens are not waiting for us to get ready, and the course of their advance will bring them here to Terra as surely as if they knew where we are."
High on each wall, a screen showed a diagram of the Commonwealth and the alien progress, the captive worlds glowing redly.
"So far we have not challenged them," Peixoto went on. "Until very recently we've had no force that could fight a meaningful action. Even to draw a small demonstration of their armaments, we depended on Morgan's refugee pirate squadron. It was like a mosquito annoying a man, and what we learned from it was very limited. But very important."
Amazing, Chang thought, that he can sound so worried when he and I talk privately, yet so calm and assured when speaking to others. It is a gift from the Tao.
"Now we do have a significant space force: the First Sol Provisional Battle Force, commanded by Admiral Alvaro Soong. It is far smaller than the enemy's, but powerful enough to draw a broad display of alien armaments and tactics, and inflict significant damage.
"Soong's ships are ready. What remains is to finish training their crews. The crews of battleships have all handled battleships in test runs. Those on cruisers have flown actual cruisers. Every officer and man has carried out his flight duties and manned his battle stations and damage stations, in a ship of the kind he's assigned to.
"But they have not flown them through battle evolutions; not in reality. What they have done is fight numerous actions in simulation drills-actions in virtual F-space and virtual warpspace. And every officer has manned his station in war games against every tactic and combination of tactics that generations of officers could think of. Against the weapons we know the enemy has, and others we think he might have, given what is known of physics."
He picked up a glass and sipped, then scanned his audience, the president watching beside him. Part of the impression he makes, Chang decided, is due to his height. And his eyebrows, like crows' wings! But mostly it is his intelligence and honesty. He speaks the truth, so far as he knows it.
"Within days," Peixoto said, "Soong's force-they call themselves the `Provos'-will generate warpspace and fly to the outer fringe of the Sol System. There its officers and men will carry out every sort of battle evolution in reality. And when Soong feels they are ready, but no later than four weeks after leaving the vicinity o
f Terra, they will journey outward to meet the enemy.
"The progress of alien conquests is direct and predictable. The flagship's savant will be in touch with ours, and we will keep the admiral informed of the enemy's progress, world by unfortunate world. At some point, when the alien armada emerges from hyperspace, Soong's force will be waiting for it."
A hand raised.
"Yes, Mister Bawadin?"
"Suppose the alien armada breaks up into separate task forces. What then?"
"At present we know little about alien psychology, but the possibility has been considered." He didn't mention the human prisoners on the Wyzhnyny flagship. It would be a distraction. The few who needed to know already did. And at any rate, though what had been learned was interesting, it was of limited use. "The aliens haven't subdivided so far, except to establish colonies on the captured worlds. And of course, this sector of the galaxy is unknown to them. They don't know what they may encounter. And if they lack instantaneous communication, they'll be very effectively out of touch with each other."
"Suppose they do have instantaneous communication," Bawadin said. "What then?"
"There is every reason to believe they do not. That we have it ourselves grew out of fortuitous observations in unlikely research on unpromising subjects."
Another hand had raised, and Peixoto pointed. "Yes, Ms. Syrkin?"
"Why a Sol battle force? Why not a force more broadly integrated?"
"The answer is time and shipyards. Shipyards here in the Sol System were able to begin large-scale production of warships more quickly. Also, the majority of available training cadre were here, thus the Sol System has been able to produce crews earlier than the other core worlds. Construction and training in the Indi and Eridani Systems are well under way now, but their trainees aren't ready yet. In a few weeks that situation will have changed."
"What makes this force `provisional'? Why not simply call it a fleet?" Syrkin asked. "Do you have misgivings about it?"
"We could call it a fleet. But what we learn from the first action may dictate major changes in force makeup, organization, and tactics. Thus it seemed appropriate to call it a provisional force."
"You said `action,' not `battle.' Why?"
"'Battle' suggests sustained fighting. This is expected to be a short series of hit-and-run actions. Lasting just long enough to record a spectrum of alien responses. You'll have an opportunity to ask Admiralty Chief Tischendorf about it later."
Again Peixoto paused to sip. "We are also preparing an action of another sort, to be fought very largely by farworlders: the 1st New Jerusalem Infantry Division, supported by the 3rd Indi Armored Regiment with attached Ground Support Wing, and the 5th Luneburger Engineers. All heavyworlders; all training on Pastor Luneburger's World. Their commander, a Sikh of the Gopal Singh Dispensation, reports that training is on schedule. And… "
Another hand had risen. "Yes, Dr. Corneille?"
"The people of New Jerusalem are pacifist Christians. What makes you think they'll fight?"
"The question has been considered. The founders of New Jerusalem were firm pacifists, and their descendants have been inculcated with the beliefs of the founders, as filtered and adulterated by time and frontier living. But until the alien invasion, war was only a concept on New Jerusalem. And their most holy book, the Christian Bible, is replete with descriptions of patriotic wars and warrior folk heroes of the remote past. Intrinsic cracks in their pacifism.
"True, many on New Jerusalem stayed behind. Some refused to believe that aliens were coming. Others believe that God will protect them. But seventy-seven thousand adults, with their children, left farms and often family behind, and fled here. Those who volunteered for military service were well aware that it meant fighting a war.
"There is no indication that their cultural pacifism will prevent them from fighting. Certainly it has not interfered with their training. General Pak is confident of their willingness and toughness."
He didn't stop with that. "The Sikhs themselves, under their founder, Guru Nanak, began as fervent pacifists, but in time became notorious warriors as a matter of survival. While in his time, Gopal Singh was a peacemaker, if not quite a pacifist." Peixoto grimaced. "During the Troubles, many of Gopal Singh's followers resigned their positions in the military, on the basis that it was an unethical war. And spent years in prison for that dedication to what they regarded as right. But there have been no-no Sikh resignations in this war. Not one."
It occurred to Chang that his friend had never mentioned his own spiritual persuasion. Probably deist, he thought. Flavored by other doctrines, deism predominated on Terra.
"In about fifteen weeks," Peixoto went on, "when the troops are ready, the New Jerusalem Liberation Force will begin a five-month voyage to New Jerusalem. By the time they arrive, it will have been in alien hands for some time. And besides the ground and air units, there will be a space force, under Admiral Apraxin-DaCosta, to deal with whatever space force the alien armada left in the system."
He then described Apraxin's Liberation Task Force. When he'd finished, a hand thrust up, and Peixoto pointed. "Yes, Doctor?"
"Mr. Prime Minister, that is a rather modest force. What makes you think it can do the job?"
"Most of the conquered planets informed us of the number of alien emergence loci, so we know how many fewer they have been from world to world. Some of the ships left behind with the conquering colonists are undoubtedly transports, and supply vessels left to support the conquerors until they can support themselves. But others are warships; Morgan's squadron provided information on how many to expect."
Peixoto's gaze had been on the people in the room. Now he scanned the faces on the monitors. He had their attention.
"Also, judging from the elapsed time between worlds, the armada remains in the system's fringe for about a Standard week.
"We also assume that they expect us to make a stand farther within the Commonwealth. If so, they probably leave behind no more fighting ships than they consider necessary."
He scanned the people in the chamber. "We've had to make numerous assumptions, and add modest safety margins. While keeping in mind that the ships of the Liberation Task Force will not be available to Admiral Soong's Provos."
He pointed at an upthrust hand. "Yes, Senator Bomboulis?"
"Why send a liberation force to New Jerusalem? At this time, I mean. Why not send Apraxin's force with Soong's? And hold the New Jerusalem division to help defend some other world?"
"We have two reasons. One, we lack knowledge of how the enemy fights. The ground units we land on New Jerusalem will be accompanied by several savants, as will Apraxin's and Soong's space forces. They should give us very important information on how the alien fights. And two, if we undertake to defend a world on the ground, the alien can send in more and more forces to overwhelm our own. While if we land a liberation force well after he's left, the alien defense is unlikely to receive reinforcements. As I pointed out earlier, we have compelling reason to believe that they do not have instantaneous communication."
More hands had popped up; the prime minister waved them off. "Now we will hear from our director of industrial mobilization, and our minister of war. Please jot down any further questions; I will invite them afterward. Our time is limited, and Mr. Shin and Mr. Stavrianos will no doubt anticipate many of them in their presentations."
The director of industrial mobilization spoke first, followed by the minister of war. When the meeting was again opened to questions, the first hand raised belonged to the chief of Senate Liaison. The prime minister pointed. "Senator Bomboulis," he said.
"Wouldn't it be simpler and less expensive to make warbots in the form of floaters? Because human soldiers walk upright on their hind limbs doesn't make it the optimum design strategy."
"A perceptive question, Senator," Peixoto said, "but I believe you'll find it is the best design strategy. General Kulikov, why don't you explain."
The general rose; he preferred to spea
k on his feet. "The human nervous system," he answered, "evolved to operate an erect, bipedal body with upper appendages which manipulate objects. And beginning in infancy, each of us spends years mastering their function. The warbot servo is designed to operate using those same neural circuits in the manner for which they evolved, and in which the person learned to use them.
"In the late 28th century, when warbots became feasible, alternative design strategies were tested. All but the bipeds presented serious training problems, while biped servo design proved less difficult than expected.
"So when the present emergency struck, we went with a biped design. Plans already existed for large-scale production. Have I answered your question?" Kulikov finished.
Senator Bomboulis nodded. "You have, General. Before my election, I was a professor of history at the University of Kaunas. So I am well aware how little appreciation and support your peacetime defense efforts received-both your predecessors' efforts and your own. You have my sincere admiration and gratitude for your dedication, foresight and ingenuity." He paused, then chuckled wryly. "Not to mention your thick skin."
When the meeting was over, the president walked to his office, briskly as always. He was thinking about something Kulikov had failed to mention. A bot design, loosely speaking, only recently in production, and not bipedal at all. Not a fighting bot in the conventional sense, though in its way, military. But it wasn't time yet to make it known, even to the cabinet. A leak would result in problems he would gladly do without.
Chapter 26
Warbots
On their way to various training areas, B Company's trainees had seen the new building grow from bare, bulldozed earth to a completed structure in under four weeks. The largest in the regimental area, it even had two stories. They'd wondered what it was for. Now, obviously, they were about to find out.
Entering it, they filed into a small lecture hall and sat down on its benches. It smelled like newly-sawn lumber and fresh paint. Then someone, something entered and stepped to the lectern. "I am Lieutenant Mei-Li Huygens-Gurejian," she said, "from New Netherlands, in Spain. That's on Terra. I have two children, and for four years I was a lecturer in history at the University of Barcelona. Until I was afflicted-and I do mean afflicted-by cascade syndrome, the major killer of young adults on Terra." She spread her arms. "So when I had a chance to contribute to the defense of my species and my children, I took it. Without hesitation."