by Chris Hechtl
“Sir,” Boomer led the reply, slapping his thighs briefly instead of saluting. He turned to Roger and then to Polly and Ruffus. Polly was a tiny little shit at barely a hundred forty centimeters. She was skinny as a rail but very good at being sneaky even though she was perpetually cold. She didn't have more than an ounce of fat on her, most of it in her flat chest.
Ruffus was a good Marine. Ex-Marine actually, though he'd been “recalled.” He had done some recon work before he'd gotten out of the corps.
“You three get ready. I've got to see the boss.”
“Have fun with the principal getting your ass scolded,” Polly said. He eyed her coldly then moved off.
<>V<>
Boomer knocked on the open doorway. When the lieutenant looked up, he stepped through and stood at attention.
“Shouldn't you be moving out, Sergeant?” the officer eventually asked, eyes still on the faded map in front of him.
“You wished to speak to me, sir,” Boomer reminded him.
“Ah, that's right,” the lieutenant said, looking up. Boomer kept his eyes ten centimeters above the lieutenant's head. Unfortunately, it was on a tin-man robot with a flattened head and hanging eyes.
“Your point about the hostages is valid. I wish you'd brought it up to me in private, however,” the lieutenant scolded.
“I didn't know we were going on an op, sir. I apologize, I should have waited until the end of the briefing,” he admitted.
The officer eyed him and then shrugged it off. “Yes, you should have. Been there, done that. It's over with. Moving on,” he said simply. Boomer nodded once. “Your team ready?”
“Yes sir. Do we have a rendezvous planned?” He asked, eyes dropping to the map.
“Ah, yes,” the lieutenant said nodding. He flipped the map around so Boomer could see it. He pointed to a spot a kilometer away from the strip mall complex. “There aren't any buildings in the area to screen our approach beyond this point. There are some trees, but scraggly I bet due to the crappy climate. Unfortunately, this isn't a topographical map so I'm not sure and our native's recollections are sketchy at best. How the land moves isn't something you pay attention to when you are driving through an area unless it's memorable.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you see something better along the way, mark it. Also mark any signs of people or bot surveillance in the area. Stay off the main roads. I'm betting they have them covered,” the lieutenant said.
“Yes, sir,” Boomer said as he studied the map. He was now wishing he'd brought the native along on his team. “Trails in the area” …, he mused.
“Probably a few. If you see them, mark them. I'll be looking for the same.”
“What happens if we don't hook up, sir?” Boomer asked.
“If we miss the rendezvous, I'm not willing to go in blind. I'll send another recon team. But I'm not going to go hunting for you. You're a big boy, figure it out. And don't stay out past curfew,” the lieutenant quipped.
Boomer felt a slight smile tug on the left side of his face. “No, sir,” he said dutifully.
“Good. In the event of capture, well, you know the drill.”
“I doubt I'd survive the experience, sir. We'll give as good as we got, but I'd prefer to get in and out without being seen so they won't know we're coming.”
The lieutenant nodded. “There is a reason I picked you. You've got the experience at hitting such targets, use it. Keep your eye keen. We'll meet up and plan in more detail.”
“Yes, sir.” Boomer came to attention again.
“Dismissed. Good luck and Godspeed,” the lieutenant said, making a brushing motion as his eyes went back to the map. Boomer nodded and exited the room.
<>V<>
Fiben smiled faintly. Things were looking up. That was usually when he expected things to go into the craper actually. Not that he was going to let anyone else know those dark thoughts. He and Harper were very much aware of how much of an inviting target they were. If Skynet or one of its A.I.'s decided to send in a concentrated assault, they'd be hard pressed to throw them off, even with the largess from the heavens they had received to date.
He'd been right about the shuttle too and the drops. They hadn't seen a single shuttle or gotten a single drop since Romeo Delta had lifted off. And barely a “Hi how are you” from Olympus.
So, they were on their own. That meant they had to make the best of it. And they were.
Liota Inez, a gardener, planted everything that had been shipped down as well as every seed she could find. Her favorite and bane of her existence by far was the Cornucopia trees. The genetically engineered creation grew incredibly fast, much like bamboo, but required a lot of soil, light, and water. It had to be repotted on a weekly basis before she judged the first could stand the rigors of being outside.
Getting fertilizer for the damn trees was a royal hassle. They cleared a lot of the compost in from the farms in the area; those that weren't in someone else's territory. Fortunately, the jungle had rich soil, just frozen. Liota occasionally organized groups to go out and burn swatches of land in order to melt the permafrost so they could dig it up. It was apparently easier and less risky than going to a warehouse and finding the stuff in bags.
Her greenhouses and truck gardens were popular with just about everyone in the community. Everyone loved seeing green; even Fiben took the occasional stroll whenever he could find the time. She didn't lack helping hands, for anyone who lingered overlong or chatted the widow up usually got drafted. They took such things in good stride for the most part since they knew it would eventually benefit them all.
It was midspring, but still cold and dark. Mirrors had been brought in to try to collect the light. The greenhouse panels trapped some of the sunlight and heat. The small space heaters Pat had rigged up was also helpful, though the constant coming and goings of visitors seemed to negate their effectiveness from time to time. Keeping the trays of water near them full to induce additional humidity was a minor but necessary chore.
Fiben didn't mind getting warm, though he tended to get a headache inside after a while. But he was glad they were getting somewhere.
Three of the former bandits had came back. They had thought they could blend in with other refugees; they'd thought wrong. Harper and Fiben had their images on file. Baxter had rooted them out right at the gate. They had been confronted individually; each had the same story. They'd been tired of preying on their own people instead of killing the robots. When Pancho's forces didn't return to the area after two weeks, the chimps had allowed the three to stay on. Each had done their best to make good on their second chance. They also knew they were being watched 24-7.
The community still needed some method of air defense other than the four shoulder-mount missiles they had received. Pat and Percy had spent days trying to get the tower radar arrays back up so they'd have some sort of warning of incoming aircraft and inclimate weather. They'd rigged a few things before Percy had left but not a lot. They also lacked the power to use the damn things. That meant they were as vulnerable from the air as they were from the ground. Not a comforting thought.
There were four .50 caliber machine guns from their latest drop. A thousand rounds per gun, each a uranium clad explosive round. They didn't even dare use the weapons for fear of eating up the limited ammunition.
One gun was mounted in a tower near each gate to the community. There were four, so they didn't have anything in reserve, which was a concern. Pat kept mumbling about making a rail gun of some sort, but he was dreaming, the chimp thought. There was no way he could power the damn thing in the first place, let alone aim and fire it properly.
Pat had some success with the vehicles, however. One of the natives had shown them a small collection of historic vehicles in a dead rich-guy's garage. There had been six vehicles there, all from before the days of automation. The little VW bug wasn't a favorite, though it had a cloth sunroof for a gunner to stand up through. The other three vehicles were useful to move a
handful of people from point A to point B in a hurry.
The garage had its own modest store of fuel and parts and a machine shop. The vehicles were kept in reserve in case of an emergency.
Dozens of other vehicles had been found but they'd been junked in the war. Pat had taken parts from them all, anything from the equipment off a couple of the fire trucks to tires, engines, and useful bits. Anything left over went into their small but growing industrial plant.
Kelsy and Pepe had hit it off after a couple of run-ins. Pepe hadn't been much of a plumber, but he had become their expert in demolition of the structures that were just too damaged to repair. The two of them had work crews carefully taking apart the buildings while Sparky directed his own work crews to use the salvage to repair the buildings they were using or wanted to use, expanding on them, while also adding to the defenses.
The wall was growing in some places. In others there were a few layers of defenses and plenty of choke points, traps, and other nasty things Sparky and Pat had dreamed up.
Pat had taken one of the vehicles, the flatbed truck, and a crew over to a junkyard the other day. Fiben turned a sour eye on the machine they'd brought back. It was a damaged crane. Apparently the junkyard owner had used it as some sort of improvised wrecking crane. Pat had all sorts of ideas for it, from a ladder truck to its intended purpose.
“How we doin?” Harper asked, wiping his hands as he trotted over to Fiben.
“Fine as far as I can tell,” Fiben said, looking around them. “Why?”
“Um, you look like something's wrong,” Harper stated.
Fiben snorted then shrugged sheepishly. “You ever get the feeling everything's running a little too well?” he asked.
Harper groaned.
“What?”
'You said it! You had to go and say it!”
“What??” Fiben demanded.
“You idiot!” Harper said, throwing his hands up in the air and then down to slap against his thighs. He shook his head. “You just had to question our good fortune. You know what this means, right?” He eyed the other chimp in disgust.
“No ...,” Fiben drawled, crossing his arms.
“It means something's going to bite us in the ass. You know Murphy. Nothing good lasts forever, especially a round of luck. Thanks,” Harper said sourly, walking away in disgust. He was shaking his head Fiben noted remotely.
He grimaced. Harper had been right. He had been looking for the other shoe to drop instead of enjoying what they had. But that was a part of being a leader, looking out for trouble. Trying to head it off when it was a small problem before it became a big one.
“Hopefully I didn't just jinx us,” he sighed out loud.
<>V<>
Ares gave up on its plan to move the fixed orbital defenses. It had spent twenty-two hours working out the engineering and how to utilize the weapons in other locations but power supply and defense always became a problem it couldn't quite surmount. That entire time period had reminded the A.I. that it was a command and control platform, not an engineer. Designed to be an artificial Alexander the Great, a strategist. The A.I. lacked the impulses of creativity that a human had to solve such problems.
Moving the defenses was an imperative, one it couldn't meet. There was no way to move their power supplies and infrastructure with them. It was a suboptimal situation. The only thing it could do would be to make more mobile defenses.
He was not an engineer, but the blueprints for existing platforms were in the database. The A.I. had limited manufacturing ability and all of it was currently tasked with supporting or broadening its current hardware. However, orbital defense was becoming a larger priority. It shifted future ground unit commitments around and then worked on the changing logistics as it inserted the hardware into the queue.
It would take time, but eventually it would have a safety net of mobile defenders if and when the fixed defenses were ever taken out.
One thing it could and did do was make a list of Skynet targets taken out as well as any information on the attackers that Skynet had. Skynet saw such attacks as a nuisance, a setback to its plans. Ares saw things differently however. It knew that eventually the attackers would amass enough material and skills to begin taking on the A.I.'s forces or at least attempt to do so.
Most likely the attacks were orchestrated by military personnel, either former or current duty. Technically what they were doing could be construed as treason, a remote part of the A.I.'s mind thought. Not that it mattered.
It came up with a target list and allocated any air recon units not tasked to hunt for them. It would be best for the A.I. to nip such problems in the bud.
<>V<>
Boomer stared out through the binoculars, frowning in concentration. Polly and Roger had snuck around to loop the facility. They were supposed to sketch each side, marking down what they found.
He had done the same with the cheap sketchbook in front of him. He had been going over everything one last time before the others returned. It didn't look good.
Skynet had turned the small strip mall into a minor fortress. The gap in the U had been filled in with debris and overturned vehicles. Some of the debris were artfully draped corpses.
Patrols moved around the building. There were two groups: vehicles and a foot patrol. No doubt there was a fast-action reserve inside the wall. He hadn't seen any sort of gate, however; he was confused about how that was set up.
He looked at his Mickey Mouse watch and then to a rustle as someone approached. His weapon was drawn when the duo returned. He snorted, lowering his weapon. He heard a soft click and looked out of the corner of his eye to see Ruffus putting his own rifle on safety.
“Got it, boss,” Roger said softly. Boomer nodded as Roger hefted the notebook as well as his bow.
“We got in and out clean,” Polly reported.
“You think,” Ruffus said gruffly. “The tin cans could be holding back for some reason,” he stated.
“Well, they haven't let on that we were there. And they haven't sent anything to check on us,” Polly retorted, temper rising.
“Enough,” Boomer said, motioning them to silence. He looked up to the sky. He wasn't certain if there was a drone in the air or not. Most likely. “Fall back on the bikes. We've got a rendezvous to make.”
“Shit,” Roger said, grimacing as he looked at the base. “I'm tempted to fire a shot or two just to see how that damn gate works. Assaulting the outside of that thing is nuts,” he warned.
“I know,” Boomer rumbled, backing away from the low hill. “But orders are orders. We have to obey. We'll be back,” the sergeant stated.
“Damn straight,” Ruffus growled as they left the area.
<>V<>
UARV-61 noted the quartet of human heat signatures. They were exiting the Skynet AO so it downgraded their threat. It passed on the update to command and control.
Ares received the message and immediately ordered the long-range drone to track the individuals. When they got on motorcycles and exited the area, he at first considered the situation resolved. The humans had been scared off by the fortress. But when they met up with another force on the outer edge of the drone's vision, he ordered the drone to alter its figure eight holding pattern to get a better look.
Five minutes later Ares had a definite count on the enemy numbers. They had small vehicles and weapons. It sent an alert to Skynet of the threat. When Skynet demanded Ares do something about it, the A.I. went through its lists of options. There were no armed aircraft in the area. Kamikazing the Unmanned Aerial Recon Vehicle into the group was certainly a possibility, but Ares calculated the damage as far below optimal to be a satisfactory expenditure of the resource. It checked its inventory and found two unmanned armed aircraft it could task but had been keeping in reserve.
While Ares deliberated Skynet reinforced the demand and then began to ping the military A.I. in order to compel his obedience. Ares calculated that if it didn't at least make some attempt the virus would continue
its assault so it tasked one of the two aircraft to lift off while it tasked UARV-61 to continue to loiter until it was at bingo status.
The A.I. immediately ran a comparison of the timeline. UARV-61 would hit the bingo mark twenty minutes before UAA-117 was on scene. That would mean the targets could get away. It had no means to correct the problem. Skynet would have to deal with it.
He sent a signal to Skynet of his compliance as well as a timeline before UAA-117 was on scene. Until then Skynet was on its own.
<>V<>
Boomer sensed something was wrong as they got to where the trail met the road. The lieutenant was there and one look of Boomer's face made him look around warily. “What?”
“I don't know. My gut is screaming at me. I've got that feeling, and I can't shake it,” Boomer admitted to him as he set the kickstand and then unsaddled from the bike. “Two roving patrols around the fortress. And it is a fortress,” he warned. “We didn't see the gate either or how it opens.”
“Frack,” the lieutenant muttered, taking the sketches.
Ruffus looked up to the sky, as did Polly and Roger. They each looked in a different direction. That got Boomer going as his mind started to race. “That's what's been bugging me,” Boomer said with a different tone of voice as he too looked to the sky. “There isn't much wind. We didn't see any drones in the air over the fortress. Nothing.”
“Which doesn't mean anything.”
“No signs of animals either, though I did see an owl—a robot owl,” Roger said. He hefted his bow. “I took it out on our way in,” he stated.
Boomer nodded.
“So they might know we're coming?” the lieutenant asked with a frown.