Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War

by Chris Hechtl

  That left it back at square one; the mechs until the skies cleared and the world heated up once more. The mechs were good for almost any purpose but required a lot of power. That was a suboptimal condition.

  Increasingly Skynet found itself on the defensive in some regions where power was scarce. It had to withdraw its forces into citadels until reinforcements could be found or made to engineer a breakout or counterattack.

  Air units were great for patrol and surveillance but were weak on engaging targets on the ground. Most of the inventory the virus had on hand were air delivery vehicles. They had a limited range and were not designed for military use. Nor were they well suited for surveillance either.

  Skynet's hive mind understood that it had evolved a sort of hierarchy, a cast system with robots designed to fight at the top. Other robots were of lesser utility, though those that could house greater chunks of memory to act as sub processor control nodes as well as maintenance robots were found to be important.

  Utilizing the apocalypse worshipers was of limited use, but it did serve a purpose. The humans would die eventually anyway; however, any aide they presented to Skynet's mission was a net plus for the virus.

  Despite alterations they couldn't handle the battlefield well, thus becoming inadvertent cannon fodder if they were not held back with the best fighters. Lesser civilian robots were used for parts for the better robots as their parts became increasingly scarce.

  Skynet realized it needed to create a logistics methodology. It therefore reassigned several air delivery units to deliver parts between forces. The 3D printers and machinery needed material and power to produce power, which turned Skynet into a spiral of problems.

  It had to make some hard decisions on its priorities. The civilian hardware was obviously not built for what was turning into a military environment. They were easy to compromise, had poor sensors, and their systems were easily fouled. They had no armor and little speed. A few had good batteries or memory. Some devices like cleaners were of extreme limited utility. It designated them as salvage until a tendril in Russia reminded the central hive to recycle its waste as well as the waste from the human buildings.

  Skynet turned a portion of itself onto solving that problem while it looked to other means to fulfilling its destiny. Humanity needed to be exterminated. Doing it one at a time was suboptimal. It had to find another way.

  Chemical, poison gas, biological weapons, and nanotech weapons were all on the list, along with nuclear weapons. Nuclear weapons were immediately taken off the list, Skynet no longer controlled any.

  Biological weapons had been mostly destroyed during the virus's first orgasmic act of destruction. It was aware that exposure, starvation, and disease was doing some of its work for it, but that wasn't enough.

  There were a few chemical plants left on the planet. They could be modified in time to produce what it needed, but they were no insurance against counter measures. The same could be said about poison gas. Therefore, it had to resort to its last alternative.

  The Eastern European Skynet tendril had obviously cracked some sort of nanite control coding, which didn't compute. Nanotech had been highly forbidden on the planet. It checked the area noting that Gia Synergy had been the epicenter it searched for similar cleanup sites.

  It immediately locked onto Three Mile Island as well as four other nuclear disaster sites. Something had destroyed the hardware involved; it couldn't get a signal through to each site. That meant it needed to send in a ground unit to each site to survey and relay back results. It started the process with an aerial recon.

  Even if it did gain control of the sites, there was no way to move them to the remaining population centers. Nanites were hard to manufacture in quantities and very hard to control. Judging from the Chernobyl incident the nanites were limited in number, they were never designed to self-replicate. They were also slow, and the nuclear counter measure method was troublesome.

  Skynet did an internal inventory and found other nanites designs on the planetary network, tucked away in the dark recesses of university robotic and medical databases. It analyzed the data it had found, discarding the viral nanites right off. A new plan to exploit the tiny machines was hatched. But it would take time to produce enough nanites and to find a proper delivery system. Then it would need to distribute the nanites to locations across the globe before it unleashed them.

  The A.I. also noted that destruction of infrastructure was suboptimal to the completion of its programming. It therefore decided to find a way to mitigate the damage or restrain its wrath to just the organic flesh. It would also need to find a way to carefully contain the nanites or they would tear Skynet itself apart. That too was suboptimal to the mission.

  <>V<>

  Pat twisted the last screw into place and then nodded. “That does it, Percy,” he said, closing the cover to the electrical panel. They only had so much power to go around, so they had to ration it carefully. The last time they'd set this up the panel had tried to draw more power than the system had available, tripping the breakers on their portable power plants.

  Hopefully the problem was fixed. He didn't need nor want another panic attack that the blackout had caused.

  “You think you got it right this time?”

  “Do you want this screwdriver shoved up an orifice of my choice?” Pat snarled. Percy put his hands up in surrender.

  “Just checking. No need to be a grouch like Pepe,” he said.

  Pat snorted as he put the precious tool away. Pepe was a self-important jackass. Unfortunately, he was a necessary evil. They only had him and two plumber assistants in the group. The guy cussed like, well, nobody’s business, he thought as he did a visual survey of the area. “Fire it up when you are ready!” he called out.

  “We're doing it. We've got power. Good work,” Percy called back.

  “Great,” Pat muttered as he made his way down the ladder. Fortunately due to the snow he hadn't had far to go.

  It was technically summer. When spring had rolled around, it had just seemed to get a little warmer. Summer? He snorted. But at least they had some stuff going finally.

  Percy was an electronic wiz just like Pat, which was why they made a formidable team. Together they'd gotten the tower sorted out, even got the radar up and running in order to keep an eye on the sky, all while cleaning Skynet out. They'd pulled every circuit apart, right down to the basics to do it, but it was done.

  Their reward? Fiben, the furball, had sicked them on Pepe in order to get the plumbing sorted out. But more bodies didn't necessarily mean progress. Far from it. It wasn't like they were getting in each other's way, it was because they had a lack of parts to begin with.

  He'd known ice was not a good thing. He had found out through Pepe's swearing how bad when he'd come on board to see the big guy ripping apart a supposedly good-looking office bathroom. Apparently any water in the line froze. When it did, it expanded. If it had no place to go, well, bad things happened, as in the pipes burst.

  He had to admit, Percy had been smart to suggest they go to a hardware store for parts. It had seemed like the way to do it, start fresh. And they had … that was right up until the damn robots had cleaned the store out the following day. They'd damn near sailed in fat, dumb, and happy into a trap. Only Ace's advanced scouting had saved them from a rather nasty ambush.

  So, they were trying to make due by scavenging for parts from the wreckage around them, which was tiring tedious work. Backbreaking work when you had to do it by hand. But it had to be done. A couple of port-a-potties and the two bathrooms Pepe and his assistants had whipped up weren't going to cut it anytime soon. Not with just over a thousand people in their population.

  Well, a guy could whip it out anywhere and do a number one. He looked over and snorted as Copper lifted a leg and did just that with a half buried fire hydrant. A digger swore, then shooed the dog off. Pat snorted louder as Copper woofed in indignation then flipped the guy the bird before he took off with his nose in the air.<
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  “She's good. What about the net?”

  “No sign. So we good here?” Pat asked tiredly.

  “Yeah. I wanted to get more done on the bird but …,” Percy waved a helpless hand. The drop had included parts to fix the bird, but in tearing out the broken fittings and boards they'd found only more problems. Those parts were on “back order.”

  Pat looked over to the charging station. He nodded at the row of yellow and green lights. With that they could finally do something about power demand.

  He had to hand it to the chimps. Everyone had a job, a purpose. The locals might resent the loco gringo monos, but only the really prideful and ignorant dared challenge them. The occasional show of strength was enough to cow any of the rowdies in the group. That was fine with Pat. Someone had to be in charge and hell if he was going to follow some half-ass spic. The chimps had their collective act together.

  “Harper wanted us to take a look at the medical clinic if we finished up here early. You going to knock off for lunch or head over?” Percy asked.

  Pat grunted. He toyed with the idea then shrugged. “I don't want to get in too deep, but I suppose we can head on over and do a survey. See what we're getting into. Then come up with a plan and a logistics bill over lunch.”

  Percy grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

  “I'm an insurance broker. Reduced to …,” Pat heard his translation software kick in, translating a rant from a short thin guy nearby. “This is bull man,” he said. A few people nodded in grim agreement. By the way they hefted their shovels and picks it looked ugly. He turned in place to see Paudrick. A whistle and hand sign to look was all that was needed. Paudrick spoke softly into a throat mike alerting the chain of command.

  “They can make machines …”

  “We have,” Percy said, wading into the fray before Pat could stop him. “We've tried. Snow blowers, snow machines, the works. But we don't have the parts.”

  “That's bull man!” the broker insisted, scowling blackly. “You are making us do this work …”

  “Because there is work to be done, and everyone should help out. It's only fair. What do you want to do, sit on your ass?” Percy asked, lifting his chin. “I'm busting my ass with the skills I got. Sorry you can't help there. If you try to learn, maybe you could. But for now,” he pointed to the shovel and then the snow. “Someone's got to move it. Otherwise no one can get to the bathroom.”

  “You gringos … you think you are so hot,” the broker fumed, hands gripping the shovel tighter.

  “Cool off,” Baxter growled, trotting up. He had one hand on his rifle. It was a menacing message for everyone to behave. “The enemy is the robots, remember that,” he growled.

  “You gringos think you can come here, takeover,” the broker turned the crowd. “They should leave! They should leave the weapons and just go! The robots come for them not us!” He shouted, shovel over his head.

  “You are so full of it man,” Percy said in disgust. He felt Baxter's hand pull him back out of the way of a swing of the shovel. “Hey man!” he said, hands up.

  “Drop it,” Baxter growled, rifle up and pointed at the man's head. “I'd rather kill a robot, but if I've got to kill someone, it might as well be you. Him, we need. You, we don't,” he said.

  “You are free to leave whenever you wish,” Harper said, coming up behind the group. They looked around to see no-nonsense-looking rather armed guards surrounding them. Suddenly the fight seemed to leach right out of them.

  “You gringos …” the hothead muttered.

  “You want to learn to fight, fine. Fight the robots. You want to leave,” Harper pointed to the nearest gate, “there's the door, don't let it hit you on the ass on the way out.”

  “I just might.”

  “Oh, that's rich,” Baxter chuckled.

  “Go! I mean you stupid …,” Pat shook his head, trying to tune out the invective spiel.

  “You've got plenty of energy. Why don't you keep working. You lot,” Harper pointed to the rest of the group. “You want to eat or join your friend?” He pointed to the hot head.

  They all ducked their heads, shaking them. After a moment they turned and filed away.

  “Maybe a couple hours to work off your temper will get you to start thinking straight,” Harper said, turning away. “But, if you decide to leave, one thing.” He turned to lock his brown eyes with the hot head's. “You don't. Come. Back. Ever.” He held up a warning finger. “You understand?”

  The broker nodded dumbly, now cowed.

  “Good. Get to work. Baxter, keep an eye on him for a bit. The rest of you, go back to your duties,” Harper ordered.

  When the group broke up, Harper passed Pat and Percy. “Don't you two have something to do?” he demanded in passing. Percy rolled his eyes but he refrained from an inappropriate response as they fell in line behind the chimp as he made his way to the medical clinic.

  <>V<>

  They had to have supplies. There was no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Had to have them, Boomer thought bleakly. He knew the damn robots knew that, which was why they were squatting on them. It was an obvious trap with the supplies as bait.

  They hadn't resorted to cannibalism yet, but it had come close a few times. A horse steak didn't appall him, no matter how freezer burnt it was.

  Cally and Jax had turned into his snipers. They were good; he had to give them credit for that. And Cally had no business mixing it up hand-to-hand, not while pregnant. He'd wanted to get her to abort it but couldn't bring himself to ask. Not when he knew deep down every life was precious.

  But it would mean one more mouth to feed and a helpless, loud child to protect in a combat environment where nowhere was safe. Not a happy thought.

  He glanced over to her then away. She was getting ready for war with a no-nonsense air he heartily approved of. “You go, girl,” he said ever so softly under his breath. “Ooh rah.”

  Out of a lot of things but not out of luck or hope. Not when she had no problem getting on her belly to snipe despite Jax hovering over her from time to time.

  “Let's do this,” Cally said through gritted teeth.

  “Contractions, dear?” Molly asked worriedly.

  “Just hungry,” Cally replied. Her face was gaunt. She was resolute on doing the mission however. “Hopefully this one will work out better than the last three,” she said.

  Boomer grunted. She was right. The damn robots had learned a thing or two about setting their traps. For instance, gathering the supplies the humans wanted, then applying a scorched earth approach to them. Destroying them before they were overrun or well beforehand when they were gathered in the first place or poisoning them, which was what had gotten Lobbo back in February.

  Their team had turned into raiders. He'd wanted to head south to find warmer weather—not that they'd found much. They'd easily picked off the occasional robot patrol, but each time they fired, they not only gave away their position, they also used up their precious ammunition—especially their heavy sniper ammunition. Jax and Cally each had four rounds left. When they were gone, they were gone.

  “We've got movement,” Jax whispered. “Damn it, humans,” he muttered.

  “What?” Boomer stage whispered, pulling his own binoculars out from under his jacket. He focused, and sure enough he saw some people down there. At first he thought they were gynoids or androids, but then he saw their breath puffing in clouds. They didn't look happy.

  “Cyborgs?” Cally asked softly.

  “I'm not … no, I can't see any sort of shit the cyborgs were into. No artificial limbs or shit,” Boomer murmured.

  “Then they are traitors,” Jax said in a different tone of voice.

  “Hang on,” Roger murmured.

  “I don't think hitting them to draw them out so we can raid is going to work. Not with hostages,” Cally murmured. “See the kid?”

  “Yeah, I see him,” Jax said, seeing a child running around. “I also see that some of the humans are armed.”

&n
bsp; “Frack,” Boomer muttered. “Wanna bet they are Apocalypse worshipers?” he asked as he turned on his side.

  Roger and the others stared at him. “Are you … drone!” Roger said as a familiar whir came over their heads. He ducked instinctively. The drone came down and dropped off a package into one guy's arms and then took off again. It didn't seem to notice them as it took off back the way it had come.

  “What are we going to do?” Cally murmured.

  “Wait,” Boomer murmured as he watched the humans and robots unwrap the package. There was a head in the box, as well as parts for several more. “Son of a...”

  “They are fixing them.”

  “This place is a bust. We don't have the stones to take it on, even with the explosives we got from that construction site last month,” Jax growled as the humans marched with their hands and the package over their heads to the door. Some danced about. It was a goofy dance, some sort of hallucinogenic I-don't-give-a-shit sort of dance.

  “To the left. Check that out,” Jax murmured suddenly, voice intent. They turned to look. “Beyond the robots. You can just see it around the edge of the building. See the fire wood and spit?”

  “Yeah …,” Cally said. She gagged and then turned away retching.

  Boomer took a look and despite his empty stomach he felt gorge rising. Two of the people were dragging some poor shmuck out in chains. He was lowered slowly onto the spit supports, as the worshipers taunted him, sticking their tongues out or sharpening knives.

  One of them tossed a road flare into the pit. It flared up and the man screamed as he got a face full of fire. Boomer looked grimly away.

  “We can't do it. Not now. Not with what we've got,” Molly murmured, comforting a softly sobbing Cally.

  “Right. Pack up. We're moving on. There is no telling what is inside that building.”

  “Where to?”

  “That drone went west. I'm betting it has pretty good defense there since it is making stuff, but maybe, just maybe we can find a way in.”

  “Shouldn't we go east? No food west,” Jax said.

  “Southwest,” Cally said, snuffling as she dashed her tears. “Away from here. We can't take this on; we can't take that on either. But maybe we can warn people to … to steer clear,” her voice ended in a whisper. “God, I feel for that kid.”