Johnny Winger and the Golden Horde, Page 3
Philip Bosshardt
CHAPTER 3
UNIFORCE Headquarters, Paris, France
July 10, 2099
1030 hours local
The duty operator at the BioShield watch center was the first to detect the swarm movements. Lieutanant Kat Poulan blinked hard at her array of displays, unwilling to believe what she was seeing. The bots were on the march, there was no mistaking the signatures from the recon drones and watchsats. EM, infrared, atom debris…it was all there…the biggest eruption out of the sanctuaries in years. She swallowed hard and rang up the watch officer.
“Uh, Major Kastanek, sir…I think you should see this. We’ve got multiple alerts, east Africa, the Med, the Balkans…looks like some kind of coordinated op developing…I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Kastanek had been beeped in the canteen, grabbing a sandwich and coffee. Why the hell did it always have to blow up on his watch?
“Be right down, Lieutanant. Set threat condition two, just in case. And ring up the boss right away. He’ll want to know about this one.”
When Kastanek came to the watch center, his eyes widened at what was on the boards. All across the Middle East and the Med, red splotches were spreading like spilled paint. The drones and the sats were picking up the signature of intense swarm activity. Cairo, Jerusalem, Athens, all of them were in the path of an expanding swarm burst.
“It’s massive as hell,” Poulan said, switching from one view to another. “I haven’t seen anything like it in years. The media are all over this too…we’re getting reports by the hundreds: mass panic, roads and highways clogged with people fleeing, fires and explosions, aircraft going down. The swarms are at all levels too, from ground level to fifty-thousand feet.”
Kastanek rubbed his chin. “You’ve notified the brass?”
“Just before you came in, sir. CINCQUANT, the UNIFORCE Council, the DG’s office.”
“Stay on it, Lieutenant. This is one hell of a breach. Pretty clear containment violation, if you ask me. Get all the data you can: signatures, vectors, what kind of bots they are, have we run into them before? Something tells me this may be the big show.”
Twenty five kilometers away, near the center of Paris, the UNIFORCE compound was in an uproar.
General Jurgen Kraft stared out his seventh floor window for a few minutes, taking in the timeless Parisian cityscape spread out below. He wondered how much of it would survive a full-scale swarm assault.
The Eiffel Tower dominated the northwest view, now covered with fixbots as it was nearing completion of the structural upgrade ordered by the Director-General a few months before. There was the Place Vendome and the low hill of Montmartre, thick with pedestrians and aircabs. UNIFORCE had been built twenty years before on the Rue des Jardins, at a busy intersection off the Luxembourg Gardens, deep in the heart of the 5th Arrondisement. The mansard roofline of the Palais du Luxembourg filled his northeast windows.
Kraft gathered his command tablet and headed up two floors, to the Director-General’s briefing room. On the lift, he ran into General Adolphus Gabriel, head of UNISPACE. The two 09s rode up together.
Gabriel was bald as an egg, his forehead creased with worry and lack of sleep.
“Could be the start of a major operation,” Kraft told him. “I’ve mobilized all units and we’re moving to defense one positions now.”
Gabriel nodded. “My killsats are ready. There’s nothing on the boards beyond Earth, so it may be they’re just testing us, probing for weakness, measuring our readiness.”
“Maybe…but I’m not buying it. Signatures show lots of intense nanobotic activity. The bugs are slamming atoms like crazy and reports out of the east Med show geologic and atmospheric changes as well. They’re altering the environment everywhere they go…like they plan to move in and stay. Doesn’t sound like swarm recon to me.”
Gabriel consulted his own tablet as the lift chimed. They were at the top level, the DG’s suite of offices. “All our facilities in Earth orbit, L3 and L4, Farside and the lunar bases have gone to threatcon two. I’m bringing three killsats down to lower orbit, primed and ready. We’ve got the Kipwezi complex targeted first. We know that’s where the master swarm resides…if your Q2 intel boys are accurate. If the bugs don’t back off, we can turn Kipwezi into rubble in about two minutes.”
Left unspoken was the thought that beamfire from UNISPACE killsats might not have any effect on swarms of nanobotic assemblers.
The Director General was a dour, emaciated old Chinaman named Jiang Hao Bei. In the chain of command, the DG reported to UNSAC, the Security Affairs Commissioner. UNSAC then reported to the Secretary-General, at UN headquarters New York.
Jiang sat at the apex of a curving desk, surrounded by staffbots scurrying about the office. His eyes lit up.
“Generals, please—“ he indicated seats at the briefing table, in front of the desk. “I’ve got SOFIE setting up your displays. Should be set in a few moments.” SOFIE was the system manager…Special Operations Forces Information Environment, the AI that ran everything at UNIFORCE Headquarters.
Kraft and Gabriel seated themselves, jacked in and helped themselves to coffee.
“I’ve just been reviewing the boards,” Jiang went on. His gnome-like head was wreathed in pungent pipe smoke. “Not good…Level 1 emergency. This is the most serious breach of the Containment laws since the truce was signed in Alexandria…three years now. What can we do?”
Kraft’s fingers flew over his tablet, modifying the displays to show force disposition. Maps thick with icons and symbols flickered onto all other displays, synched directly with his.
“Mr. Secretary, I’ve got all Quantum Corps forces on full alert. We’re at Threatcon 2, same with UNISPACE, General Gabriel tells me—“
Gabriel nodded.
“Quantum Corps West at Table Top is activating 1st ANAD Battalion…I’m ordering Colonel John Winger to take personal command of the unit. First ANAD will be chopped to Quantum Corps Central, Balzano, Italy, for theater command and support. The battalion is due to lift off at 12:30 hours our time—we’ve corralled two hyperjets for the hop--and be at Balzano to pick up supplies an hour later.” Kraft manipulated his tablet with thumbs and fingers, changing the displays. “Looks like the eastern Med, specifically Egypt and Israel, are where the action is right now.”
Jiang puffed at his pipe and squinted at the displays embedded in his desk. “What do we know about these swarms, General?”
Kraft shook his head. “Late design ANAD assembler swarms…as before. Full effector suite, upgraded picowatt propulsors, maneuverable as hell…and they replicate like the bejeezus. These buggers can out-rep our bots any day of the week.”
Gabriel added, “Sir, I’ve studied everything Q2 has put out. Close in, we’re just no match for them. With their propulsors, they make our bots look like jalopeys—“
Kraft bristled at the remark, but Gabriel ignored him and went on. “—and their effectors…they’ve got tools and doodads and gizmos nobody can figure out…plus they grow these effectors so fast, we can’t react in time. No, sir, close in… our bots don’t have a chance. We have to be tactically clever, feint this way and that, mask and disguise what we do and try to slam ‘em from behind. Otherwise, we have no chance.”
Kraft was anxious to rebut the analysis. “With all due respects, Mr. Secretary, General Gabriel isn’t up to speed on our latest technology. It’s true we have problems when we close with them, in a frontal assault, but nobody does that kind of assault. It’s suicide. No sir, nowadays, you engage adversary swarms in quick thrusts, dispersed like a cloud of flies, disguised and camouflaged as something else. We’ve proven tactics in sims and wargames where our swarms masquerade as rain drops in a thunderstorm, or as flies or as dust storms in the desert. To beat these bots, you have to look like anything but a nanobotic assembler. You have to blend in with the environment.”
“Like angels, gentlemen?” Jiang observed.
Kraft added, “Controlled, hell, sir…some of them are saboteurs. Spies. A fifth column, whatever you want to call them. Some of the swarm objects people make with their fabs are directly controlled by Config Zero. It’s like having your own oven spy on you and poison your dinner. Or maybe having your shoes clop around the house at night and take inventory on what valuables you have. You can’t trust any ANAD style bots now and people had better wake up to that. The swarms are doing us a favor by pushing out of the sanctuaries. It’s a warning and we’d better heed it.”
Jiang rubbed at his chin; a faint white stubble made him look like a street bum from Kowloon, which rumor had he had once been decades ago. “Continue your mobilization efforts, gentlemen. But we can’t afford to overlook diplomatic options as well. I want to organize some kind of effort to contact this Config Zero and find out why these movements are occurring. I will approve all your operations, in any theater you feel we must respond, to confront the swarms and try to drive them back to their sanctuaries. We do have treaties after all. They must be made to respect these treaties. We’ll apply both diplomatic and military pressure as needed.”
The DG dismissed them both. “The Security Council’s meeting in New York. I’ve got to vidlink in and make a report to UNSAC about this whole mess.”
Kraft and Gabriel left. Kraft went back to his office two floors below. Inside of a few minutes, he had scribbled some notes on his tablet, then rang up Johnny Winger at Table Top.
Colonel John Winger had been commanding officer at Quantum Corps’ Western base at Table Top Mountain, Idaho for some ten years now. He had long ago decided that life was better when he’d been a simple atomgrabber fresh out of nog school, dueling with bad bots all over the world with no thought or care about command responsibility or budgets or personnel matters.
An atomgrabber thought about slinging atoms and that was all. Winger stared out his window at the sawtooth hills of the Buffalo range to the north and wondered just why it was that life wouldn’t let him go back to those days.
>>It’s called wisdom, I believe, Colonel>The General doesn’t seem to like ANAD swarms, Winger…just an observation>>
Winger had grown used to having the swarm, now embedded in his shoulder capsule, cutting in on his thoughts.
“Can you blame him, Doc? The swarms are supposed to stay in their sanctuaries. When they move out, they kill people and make places unliveable.”
>>You know that’s not true of all swarms, Winger. What about the millions of people who use angels or some kind of personal swarms? What about the fabs? What about the swarms in Quantum Corps…what about me?>>
Of course, Doc II had a point. That was the hell of it. ANAD technology was everywhere. In the forty-five years since the original human Doc Frost had built the first ANAD assembler at Northgate University’s Autonomous Systems Lab, nanobotic technology had evolved at near-light speed, it seemed. Bots the size of a few nanometers, built with virus-like properties and quantum processors had gone from laboratory curiosities to a global industry. ANAD style assemblers and their swarms were household items now, built into fabs, kept as pets and lovers and companions, employed in myriad jobs in dozens of industries, now they were even nanotroopers inside Quantum Corps itself. Third ANAD battalion was a ‘battalion’ in name only, being formed from one integrated swarm.
The lab curiosity had become an indispensable tool. But in the process, the swarms had acquired something like human-level sentience and a measure of independence. Mankind had finally crafted a tool better than himself. And now, with the full understanding of where ANAD’s original virus-like genome had really come from, and the arrival of the master swarm Config Zero on earth, more and more people were growing uneasy about their dependence on ANAD technology. The tool made and mastered by Man was steadily becoming the master of Man as well.
“I guess you’re right, Doc,” Winger said out loud. Troopers passing nearby saluted the base commander and thought nothing of the seemingly one-sided conversation. Everybody had embedded bots now; the Symbiosis project had long since concluded with the complete merger of soldiers and ANAD into integrated warriors. One-sided conversations with your own bot swarm were normal…like having a somewhat anxious and verbose conscience.
“Still, you can’t blame people for being afraid, Doc,” Winger went on. He made the entrance of the bunker-like Mission Prep building and cycled through the security locks into a descending staircase, heading down two levels to Crew Ops. “Sure we depend on swarms for a lot now. But people don’t like being rousted out of their homes, seeing their towns and neighborhoods chewed up and everything they’ve ever known turned into atom fluff. That’s what these swarms are doing. People react like it’s a plague.”
>>The swarms have to execute the Prime Key, Winger…they have directives to move out…they only do what is commanded of them. ANAD swarms are made by men…but men have given up control of them…Config Zero does what Man allows it to do, no more>>
Winger thought there was some truth to what Doc II was saying. But it would have to wait for another day and time. He had orders and a mission from CINCQUANT and that took priority.
Crew Ops was a multi-level facility buried deep in the bunker, where nanotroopers checked out their gear and ran through mission plans prior to deployment. Winger entered the ready room and immediately saw two veteran atomgrabbers at a nearby table, assembling equipment.
“Hey, Skipper—“ it was Quantum Sergeant Mighty Mite Barnes, long-time SDC2 with the battalion (Stealth and Defensive Countermeasures 2nd class). Barnes was five full feet of trash-talking loud-mouthed human dynamo…a small package with the kick of a big bomb. You didn’t mess with Mighty Mite Barnes. “—what gives around here? Scuttlebutt is we’re flying out tonight…some kind of mission in the Med. You come down the gopher hole to check out our clean underwear?”
“Mite, I wouldn’t touch your titanium panties with a ten-foot pole. And you’re right, CINCQUANT just sent over the orders.”
With Barnes at the assembly table was QSgt Adnan “Turbo” Fatah. Fatah was working over a disassembled Super Fly entomopter drone, soldering something in a haze of sparks and pops. Turbo Fatah was battalion CEC1 (Containerization and Environmental Control 1st class). The CECs helped manage the ANAD swarms’ life support functions for the battalion, their containment systems, including troopers’ embedded capsules. They also handled all launch and recovery ops. CECs were part doctor and part trainer to the bots.
The Egyptian trooper lifted his face shield. “A holiday in the Med…it’ll be like going home, Colonel. What’s not to like…another day of sun and fun in the Corps.”
Winger called an all-hands meeting right in the middle of the ready room. Troopers came from other tables, from sim tanks and adjoining rooms. A circle formed around him and some good-natured jostling and bitching rumbled through the mustered troops.
One trooper didn’t participate in the jostling. The commanding officer of 3rd Nano was officially known as Swarm Master One. SMOne was actually just a small subset of the greater swarm of ANAD bots that formed 3rd Company. The other troopers called him (it?) Bugs, sort of an affectionate if somewhat crude nickname; all nanotroopers had nicknames, whether they wanted them or not.
The other troopers gave Bugs a wide berth.
Bugs hung back from the rest, hovering in a corner of the ready room. The ANAD swarm flickered and glowed like a cloud of fireflies, as it continuously held structure in something approximating a human face.
More like a carnival mask, Johnny Winger thought as he waved his troopers over to the briefing stage. It was an open question around Table Top that none of the humans had been able to figure out. Since the Corps had relented years ago
and permitted an experimental company of ANAD assemblers to organize as a standing unit within the battalion, outside of containment, the rest of the battalion had been asking: who, exactly, was in command of this sentient swarm entity?
Winger had pondered the idea as well, even going so far as to pose the question to Doctor Irwin Frost, the Northgate University scientist who had created the original ANAD way back in the ‘60s.
“It’s not a being in the same sense we are, Johnny,” Doc Frost had told him. “It’s a swarm. Or a colony. Or a hive, if you like. But there’s no queen bee that I can determine. The intelligence of the unit is distributed throughout all its elements. So it’s fair to say the command and the leadership is as well.”
Which made working with 3rd Nano probably the biggest challenge Colonel Winger had ever faced. To make things a little easier, he had worked out an understanding with ANAD. In staff meetings, briefings and the like, ANAD had agreed to detach a small portion of its swarm and form at least something vaguely resembling a human face, so the other humans would have something to relate to, someone to talk to and communicate with.
***There are acoustic channels, Colonel, that work better, even quantum channels if they have the coupler***
“I know that, ANAD, but humans are old-fashioned. Whenever we communicate with someone, we like to be able to see who we’re talking to. Humans evolved that way.”
ANAD had considered that for few moments. Then…
