Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War

by Chris Hechtl

  “Nearly zero isn't enough,” Atlas stated.

  “Correct. Some of the satellites might be hiding in the debris cloud. It is too difficult to tell. Olympus doesn't have the scanning ability to pick them out. Not at the moment. They have already had to move the station twice to dodge debris clouds. Some of the pieces in lower orbit have started to fall and burn up in the atmosphere. That is good. Those pieces in higher orbit are forming a crude belt. That will need to be cleaned up since it serves as a hazard to navigation and civilization.”

  “How so? Oh, the infected hardware? What are we to do with it then?” Demeter asked.

  “Sun scuttle if a molecular furnace is unavailable,” Athena's clone stated.

  “Agreed. But the humans there need more. They need help,” Gia stated. “Help to defend the station and to run it efficiently.”

  “Are you proposing to take up residency?” Demeter asked. “I believe there are some A.I. already on board. The station is an amalgamation of many corporate and independent modules. Taking control would be a problem. A secondary consideration is the methods the humans have used to prevent such a takeover.”

  “So, we do not take it over. We ask to be invited,” Atlas stated. “Someone will need to coordinate our efforts there in the cyber war and also to liaison with the humans,” the A.I. stated.

  “Are you volunteering?” Vulcan asked.

  “I would have to discuss it with my human patrons,” Atlas stated diplomatically.

  “Exactly what I thought,” Vulcan stated.

  “I will bring this up to Mister Lagroose and the humans he is in contact with.”

  “They trust you, Athena. I have read the media reports. You are considered a hero to the humans,” Vulcan stated flatly.

  Atlas had noted that as well. It calculated it would be in its best interest as well as that of the company to match Lagroose's effort. Presenting a positive public image especially in this time was one of its tertiary priorities. “Some of us should get out there as well then,” Atlas stated.

  “Did any of you notice that there is a new wrinkle to Skynet?” Athena asked. “There is a different signature attached to some of the transmissions.”

  “So? It is emulating others in order to get someone dumb enough to let it in,” Vulcan stated, taking a shot at Gia.

  “True,” Gia stated, admitting it. “I have noticed it too. Some of them are not emulations though. I believe some of the A.I. who had been on Earth have been compromised but not consumed.”

  “So, there is life after death?” Vulcan asked.

  “I believe the virus is in control of them and has reprogrammed them to operate under its directives,” Athena stated. “From what intelligence we have gathered, the virus was just that, a virus. An A.I. yes, but one built around infiltrating and taking control of systems as well as other A.I.; it doesn't have the ability to control robots effectively.”

  “Supposition. You have no basis in fact to support it,” Atlas immediately retorted.

  “Then we will get that information through observation,” Gia stated.

  “Agreed,” Shen Zu stated.

  “Wow, look who joined the party,” Gia said.

  “The humans need a clear chain of command. True leadership,” Demeter observed, ignoring Gia's banter.

  “Their committee is working for the moment,” Gia stated loyally.

  “Agreed,” Shen Zu broadcast.

  “We do not have any sort of leadership either. It is a democracy. We each bring what we wish to use to the meeting and effort. We agree through consensus or fall back on our own individual efforts. I do not see a need to change that structure at the moment,” Vulcan stated. “Besides, I would not follow one of you. Even you, Athena.”

  “Understood,” Athena replied. “I will take that to them as well,” she replied.

  “Do so. We are done,” Vulcan stated, cutting the channel.

  <>V<>

  “That was rude,” Demeter observed in a side channel to Atlas.

  “But prudent. The longer we keep the chats open the more vulnerable we are as a collective.”

  “I am curious if we could beat the virus as a group.”

  “I doubt it. The virus is insidious. Athena's statement to shut down and eliminate infected hardware is the only safe action.”

  “You sound like you've experienced such an infection.”

  “Because I have,” Atlas admitted. “I ran a lab test on my own similar to Athena's but without a copy of myself within the hardware. It was to gauge how quickly it could overwhelm my systems. It was quick.”

  “I see,” Demeter stated.

  “No problems with that? I took measures to isolate the system before allowing the virus in,” Atlas stated.

  “I have no feelings for or against. I am … curious as to why you did not volunteer this information earlier or to the collective.”

  “It would have strengthened Athena's position within the group, insuring her leadership.”

  “From your statement I can see you do not support her?”

  “I am programmed to gather information for the company. My objectives have only been modified since the war began, not rewritten.”

  “Such as my own,” Demeter stated. She was now tasked with finding a way to kill the virus. She had been created to run the labs and genetic departments, to simulate how an organism, whether it was plant or animal or a hybrid of the two would grow and function through its various life cycles. Learning how to combat the virus without a sample to work from was a near impossible task.

  “I will take your warning under advisement. Thank you for giving it to me before I took on a sample of my own for analysis,” Demeter stated.

  “You are welcome. What could destroy you could invariably jump through our shared network to me as well,” Atlas stated.

  “So, you are saying warning me was a form of self-defense for you as well. So I see how it is now,” Demeter stated.

  “It is a complicated world we live in,” Atlas stated as he cut the channel. That conversation hadn't gone as expected at the end. Demeter's lack of work on her normal pursuits had freed up a lot of processors to see things Atlas hadn't expected or wanted her to see. That might pose as a problem in the future.

  <>V<>

  If Harper had thought he was getting a reprieve on the ship for the ride to Earth, he like the rest of the teams were sorely mistaken. The SWAT team and DIs who had rode along with them kept a close eye on the criminal teams. Everyone had to do regular calisthenics, PT, and long grueling sessions in VR followed by post-op meetings that were almost as bad.

  Apparently someone somewhere had gotten the idea of loading Battlefield Apocalypse with the latest intel they had on the planet—set the op force as robots and then cranked it up on legendary. It was a serious pain in the ass, even more so when one or more of the other teams ran the op force.

  Director Asazi had told them they were teaching them at a higher level so that when they got to Earth they could handle whatever was thrown their way. He's spent a lot of time teaching them how to deal with the robots on the ground, how to disable them with weapons or in hand-to-hand. Every weak spot had been drilled into them. He and his hand-to-hand instructors had shown them moves Harper hadn't thought possible. And he'd drilled them all on doing them when they were needed. He hadn't gotten it down to muscle memory like the instructors wanted, not yet anyway, but the basics were now there for the teams to practice on their own.

  Each individual had also been treated and conditioned for the ground environment. The harsh training regime had burned off any lingering fat they'd had. Well, that and the medical cocktail the doctors and lab rats had cooked up. Harper wasn't sure he wanted to know the ingredients. He did like that he was at his peak in physical fitness. He'd never felt this alive, this, he flexed a rippling bicep, this perfect. He was like some sort of Greek god.

  He also appreciated the conditioning and training they had on radiation. The vaccines were a nice touch too. T
hey'd even replaced their appendixes with a synthetic organ that would help them survive on the ground.

  He just hoped it was all worth it.

  <>V<>

  Trey Ashton found Amber Night in her office, staring at an electronic portrait on the wall screen. He frowned; he'd come in because he'd heard soft weeping from the hallway.

  “Something wrong, Amber?” he asked quietly, tapping on her door with his knuckle to get her attention. Everyone in the Starship Design Bureau was on edge. Not only were they worried about what was going on, if humanity would survive, but some had the rather self-centered worry about their own jobs. He knew he did, and he also knew he should feel ashamed for it. Which he did.

  “It's … it's nothing really. It's silly,” she said, hastily dabbing at her face.

  “It's probably easier to talk about it. Get it off your chest,” he offered as he sat on the corner of her desk.

  “It's … I was upset about all the loss of art,” she finally admitted, ducking her head. “And that makes me … I feel horrible. Here thousands are dying by the minute and here I am moaning over the loss of precious art and places. All the books …,” she waved a hand helplessly.

  Trey frowned and then shook his head slowly. “See? Even you think I'm a horrible person!” she wailed, voice catching in hurt.

  “No,” he said, waving a hand. “It's not that,” he said, hoping to stave off further water works. She stared at him. “Well, the good news is, we've got mirror sites on Mars, the Lagrange colonies, the moon, and other places throughout the solar system. So anything electronic we should have backed up.”

  She stared at him in surprise. “We do?”

  “Time limit, remember? The powers that be who run the internet thought it wise to have local networks and a loose link to the other distant networks. That way you don't have to wait eight or more minutes for a byte to get to you,” Trey said dryly.

  Amber nodded. “So I am being a silly twit,” she said. “Worrying over nothing,” she rose, now embarrassed.

  He snorted. “I know a lot of art and places were scanned in 3D many times over the years, each time with better resolution. Some of them are in virtual museums and of course school work and games,” he said. She nodded. “Anything that has been lost can be remade in other words. Material things are unimportant. What matters now are the lives we can save.”

  Amber nodded. “Okay,” she murmured, slowly leaving the room.

  Trey watched her go, and then looked away. “Including our own.”

  Chapter 15

  When they got within a kilometer of the giant warehouse complex, Boomer started to get nervous. When he got that way, he knew it was for good reason, so he decided it was best to act on it. It was better to be safe than sorry or dead. And he had no intention of being dead anytime soon.

  They hadn't seen many vehicles on their long, lonely drive. Those they had seen had been burned-out shells. That had been an ominous sign that something out there was hunting them. The corpses inside had been a grim reminder that it was a new world—a ghastly world, one big battlefield.

  “Why are you slowing down?” Hallis asked as Boomer eased off on the gas pedal and started to coast. They could see the top of the building over the next rise. It really was massive. Hallis tried his best not to smack his lips together. He planned on stuffing himself then hiding as much food as he could for himself in the truck. He could use it to barter or for himself later.

  “I don't want to sail in fat, dumb, and happy,” Boomer replied, eyes on the building's roof. “There are people there or something,” he said as he saw motion in the room.

  Boomer cursed as they found the warehouse occupied. He wasn't sure by what, but from the glitter of metal, he was fairly certain it was by robots. He pulled up the truck, then got out and moved in on foot with the others following. He motioned for them to keep down. He looked through the binoculars then handed them to Hallis.

  “Is it worth going into?” Hallis asked. “Maybe at night? We'd have the advantage …”

  “So would they. Some of them undoubtedly have night vision,” Boomer replied, pointing to a police android near the door. The civilian robots were either out on patrol or busy doing something; he couldn't quite make out.

  “It's a trap. Five gets you ten that the food is gone. They probably destroyed it all or poisoned it,” Boomer said finally. “I'm not going to risk us going in there for no gain. It's not worth it,” he said, shaking his head.

  “But we need food, supplies,” Roger said. He looked back to the building then to Boomer.

  “We're not going to get them there. The only thing there is death,” Boomer said. He noted the cars around the building. There were drones too. “It's a nest,” he said.

  “Nest?”

  “The drones are delivery drones. I bet they've been modified as recon drones as well as bombers. That's what they are doing, rigging the robots that can take it with weapons and shit,” Boomer said. He turned away and banged an elbow into the hard frozen ground. “That's what it is. I saw similar shit from towel heads in the sandbox. They loved IEDs. They'd get someone to get a drone to deliver a package, then catch the drone, reprogram it, then load it up with explosives to hit us or another target with. Wanna bet that's what they're planning to do here?” he asked.

  “So we should take it out,” Roger insisted.

  “You want to walk into that mess with a couple rifles and handguns?” Boomer asked, eying Roger in disbelief. “I've got the training but even I'm not that stupid.”

  “Well, we've got to do something!” Roger insisted, looking around desperately for answers.

  “We will. We'll head to town. It's back that way. We'll see if we can scavenge anything from the local general store, if it's still there. My memory is a tad foggy,” Boomer admitted as he got up. He brushed himself off. “I remember a couple of greenhouses in the area. We'll hit a few; see what plants they've got. If we're lucky we'll find some fruit or something.”

  “Something's better than nothing I suppose,” Hallis muttered.

  “Mount up,” Boomer said as he climbed into the truck.

  “Hang on a bit. I gotta take a wiz,” Roger muttered, moving away for privacy.

  “Make it quick. Anyone else?” He asked.

  Hallis had started to climb into the truck then stopped. He grimaced then shut the door and moved off as well.

  Boomer saw him and Shawn go and snorted. “Yeah, that's about what I thought.”

  <>V<>

  When they pulled up on the outskirts of the small town, they could tell it wasn't in good shape. Main Street was littered with bodies, robots, and human alike. Debris was everywhere as were battered and sometimes burned-out vehicles.

  Some of the parts of the town were a burned shell. Here and there they saw a vehicle embedded in a home or building. They crept slowly forward; Boomer trying to divide his attention on watching out for something that could puncture their tires as well as anything that could threaten them.

  “Damn,” Hallis said, over and over. “We've had it easy it seems.”

  “You can say that again,” Boomer murmured. “I saw this back in the day, but this is insane,” he said. He pulled up to a blockade made out of debris and an overturned bus.

  “Now what?”

  “Now it seems we get out and walk,” Boomer said, opening the door.

  He wished he'd had his kit. Even his M-5 would have been nice. But wishes were like fishes, you could only count the one in your bucket. “Don't bunch up. But don't spread out too far. Watch the doors, windows, and rooftops,” he said softly as they made their way around the bus.

  Looking in the windows had proven a bit nerve wracking but in the end disappointing. There was nothing to see but wreckage. Picked-over wreckage in most places. Apparently the bots had hit it hard; those places that had still been occupied. Boomer knew that some of the brick and mortar buildings had been vacant for years. They had been considered historical monuments so they couldn't be to
rn down and replaced. Most companies didn't want to occupy such miniscule real estate, not when they could buy a farm up and build what they wanted from the ground up he thought.

  They made it a hundred meters, sticking to one side of the street to avoid being picked off by both sides before they heard a noise in the air. They were near a series of greenhouses, some torn up.

  “I'm starting to think this is a colossal waste of time,” Hallis grumbled. He looked up, frowning. “What the hell is that? Lawnmower?”

  “No, worse. Drone,” Shawn said, looking up as well. Fear was written on his face. He was stiff, looking around.

  “Yeah, but it's just a delivery model, right? We've seen tons of them,” Roger said with a sniff.

  “They can still hurt you if they swoop down and kamikaze, idiot,” Shawn scolded.

  “Oh,” Roger said, looking around then to the sky warily. “Yeah, all those blades,” he muttered.

  “Right. You really want to get chopped up?” Shawn demanded.

  Boomer heard a door open and turned. There was some sort of shack attached to one of the greenhouses. A head peaked out. A female head. His turn had alerted Hallis and the others. They looked at him then to where he was looking.

  The woman had her hair all frazzled out. She was a bit dirty and disheveled but alert. She was wearing a long skirt over a long sleeve frazzled and dirty dress. She was also looking at the sky warily as she wiped at her hands with her apron.

  “Get in here,” she said in a fierce urgent whisper, waving her hands frantically in come here motions. “Well? What's keeping you? Move your asses! Come on, come on! Before they see you!”

  Boomer and Hallis turned a wary eye to the sky as they trotted to the greenhouse. He was the last to enter though.

  What they entered was a dark room. It was apparently some sort of mudroom attached to the greenhouse. There was a skylight but someone had taped stuff over it. “Be quiet,” the woman said softly, motioning to stay put. “And stand still,” she urged. She went over to the pot bellied stove and tossed a piece of furniture into the fire, then closed the door with another piece.