Izu Oshima,Cydonia Mensae
‘That is no soldier, that is an autonomous killer,’ said Dean Herrera to Captain Markus Arundel. ‘And it’s illegal. I don’t want it on my site.’ The machine was neither remarkable nor unique in design, yet Izu Oshima’s dean watched it with apprehension. Apart from a pilot who fussed over a grounded Sparrowhawk, she was alone in the hangar with the Redbourn captain and this fearsome automaton.
‘Dean,’ Markus breathed. ‘We’ve already been through this, and I thought you understood. Izu Oshima is not your site.’ He took a small step back from the crouched form of D0G3, Redbourn’s newest prototype combat drone. D0G3 was comprised of a compact artillery barrel mounted on a bi-segmented mechanical torso. Two forelimbs supported the chunky front segment upon which the primary gun barrel rested while a pair of hind legs, dog-kneed and slightly thinner than the frontal limbs, were folded beneath the rear segment. Markus thought of an automobile-sized, sleeping canine with a smoothbore barrel instead of teeth. ‘
‘You’re going to shut this down and remove its battery while you can,’ said Herrera. ‘If you care about safety, you would do that.’
‘You are in charge of the administration of operation of this site, doctor,’ replied Markus. ‘My team is responsible for safety.’ Herrera’s mouth twitched, but Markus continued, ‘Now you and some of your colleagues have elected to remain on site despite the security threat and I commend you on that. But, you need to know that I have the final say in matters of security.’ Markus gave the crouched up battle drone an open-handed thump on its armoured flank, ‘And this is very much a part of the security plan.
‘Security,’ Herrera said. ‘This is the only threat to security here now. People have tried Autonomous Combat Devices before. They are not safe.’
‘Please, feel free to take it up with Cydonia management,’ Markus said, ‘but I think they will tell you the same thing.’
Herrera leaned closed to Markus and whispered, as if she didn’t want the robot to hear her words, ‘You can’t use it. The UN banned it on Earth for a good reason.’
‘It’s not here to fight,’ Markus said. ‘It’s here to learn. I’m not going to arm it.’
‘I’m not stupid,’ Herrera said. ‘I know what this costs – you didn’t bring it here to be an expensive scout. This class of neural network is unpredictable – more unpredictable than any human soldier in your command. You pay your guardsmen and they follow your orders. This thing has no motivation to do so. You’ve armed a child – heavily – and you hope it will follow your orders.’
‘Much like my other guardsmen,’ Markus said.
Herrera glared at Markus, ‘We will not support this. My staff and I are not supporting this.’ She jabbed a finger at the robot. ‘You can find someone else to do repairs and maintenance on that thing. I won’t do it.’ She glanced at the drone, spun on a heel and stormed out of the hangar, boots clicking on the hard floor.
‘Be safe, dean,’ Markus called after her.
Sarah Pauly had to move aside or be shoved as Dean Herrera stomped past. She decided to side-step and let the dean pass. Markus Arundel knelt next to a robot in the hangar, running a hand over the barrel-snout.
‘So this is the new mascot,’ said Sarah. ‘It looks like a gun on legs.’
‘It’s the only friendly face here,’ said Markus. ‘Why are you wearing armour?’
Sarah wore a subdued version of the Redbourn battle armour, blue-coloured and lighter, over her Polyskin. ‘New policy,’ she said, ‘all pilots have to wear these. In case we get shot down.’
‘I know the policy, it’s my policy. But you’re not a pilot,’ Markus said.
‘I’ll accrue my hours by the end of the week and then I’m joining the volunteer pilot corps,’ she said.
‘The fuck you are,’ Markus said. ‘You’ve put yourself and my men in enough danger.’
‘Any qualified pilot may volunteer,’ Sarah replied. She waved to the pilot in the hangar who was using a forklift to secure his aircraft onto a wheeled drive-train. The deflated envelope was arranged in convoluted folds on the cabin roof. Once finished, the pilot leaned in and began to push the wheeled Sparrowhawk towards the hangar’s immense airlock.
‘Are you really going to take that thing into combat?’ Sarah asked, meaning D0G3.
‘I’m not going to have this conversation again,’ said Markus.
‘Herrera invented this neural core,’ Sarah said, pointing to D0G3. ‘That’s why she’s pissed that you installed it in a kill-drone.’
‘Tactical Autonomous Unit,’ said Markus. ‘And I didn’t install anything.’
Sarah ignored the correction. ‘She’s been working on this all of her adult life,’ she continued. ‘Now she thinks you’ve kidnapped her infant and put a gun in its hand. She’s an idiot – what did she think would happen?’
Markus looked at D0G3 and then to Sarah. ‘You’re going to be a pilot now? I thought you were a constructor.’
‘I am – I’m going to be working on the defences – but I’m also volunteering to fly. Fewer people with more skills,’ said Sarah. She was reciting a well-known Cydonia policy statement. ‘And where possible, automate. I guess that’s what we’re doing here. One day this kill-drone is going to replace you.’
‘We’re not all as valuable as you are,’ said Markus. ‘If you get captured again, Redbourn will send their best unit to retrieve you again.’
‘At least you don’t have to worry about that anymore,’ said Sarah.
‘Why did you leave the City? Why is Robert in Zubrin?’
The pilot had moved the Sparrowhawk close to the airlock and signalled to Sarah who nodded and slid on her helmet. ‘Ask Robert why he left because I don’t know. I’m here because I have a job to do.’
‘I’ve seen this before. Rich people’s children doing journalism and aid work in some hell-zone. They don’t have jobs to do, they have points to prove.’
Sarah stopped and, though her face was hidden behind her visor, turned to face Markus. ‘I’m here because I don’t have anything to prove,’ she said. ‘Can you say the same?’ She caught up with the pilot and helped him push the vehicle the last few metres to the airlock.
Zubrin Town, Arabia Terra
Someone was next to Robert’s bunk, shaking him. ‘Sir,’ a voice said as Robert surfaced from sleep, ‘Come with me to the command pod, please.’ The guardsman spoke in the same casual English accent as Lieutenant Barnsley. Robert guessed that this man, like the rest of Barnsley’s platoon and the lieutenant himself, were former British Marines.
‘Are they attacking?’ Robert asked. His eyes were still shut against the room’s dim light.
‘Please put on your Polyskin, bring your helmet and boots and come with me,’ the guardsman replied. Zubrin Town had been generally evacuated and offered plenty of living space, but Robert had been forced to bunk with a squad of guardsmen billeted in one of Zubrin Town’s common rooms. Sarah would have hated this, Robert thought as he stepped over the bundled gear and sleeping bags. Lieutenant Barnsley had explained that this room would be the safest part in the town, and since Robert had insisted on remaining on site, his safety was Redbourn’s primary concern. Now, Redbourn’s primary concern was the substantial armed force that loomed near the town.
The command pod was actually a single-voyage capsule buried in the centre of the town’s primary dome. Similar to the Natividad, the old ship that Robert shared with Sarah in the Cydonia’s Old Town, the obsolete vessel now served as a usable floor space. An unbroken display surface coated the inner wall and a 360-degree view of the surrounding crater dominated that surface. Lieutenant Barnsley greeted Robert but said nothing else, except that he should not leave the pod without escort. Another guardsman shared the pod with the lieutenant. Like the lieutenant, she wore battle armour, but her left arm hung awkwardly in a sling. ‘I know you,’ Robert said, ‘you’re the scout that found Sarah.’ She nodded and pointed with her good arm to one of the few chairs in the room. ‘Won’t you sit down?’ This time, Robert did not refuse. He settled into the seat, still not completely awake. These guardsmen were accustomed to early starts and broken sleep, the thought. He was grateful when Lieutenant Barnsley pressed a mug of steaming coffee into this hand.
‘I work for Lieutenant Alessandro,’ the scout said. ‘I’m here because I can’t fight.’
‘Are they attacking?’ Robert asked again. The sun had started to rise but delicate shadow still shrouded the crater. The panoramic display wall was scattered here and there with display frames that showed closer, more detailed views of the area around it. Lieutenant Barnsley pointed to one of these windows. ‘That’s from the dawn patrol,’ he said. He made a flicking gesture and the window slid across the display wall and stopped in front of Robert who squinted at the image, trying to understand it. A string of tiny white lights slithered across brightening the landscape.
‘The lights you’re seeing are heat signatures from their batteries,’ Barnsley explained. ‘Going by their size, and how the group is moving, we think each one is an armoured vehicle.’
‘There must be at least fifty,’ Robert said. The line snaked towards the crater from the north, directly towards Zubrin Town’s crater.
‘And those are just the ones they want us to see,’ said Barnsley staring at the image.
‘How is it possible to move so many at night?’ Robert asked.
Barnsley was speaking but not to Robert. Voices filled the pod, streaming in from the tactical channels. He pointed at the east part of the wall. More vehicles advanced on the town from that direction. Sweat formed on Robert’s brow. ‘What are those?’ Robert asked the guardsman nearby.
‘APCs,’ she replied. ‘Armoured Personnel Carriers – chock full of infantry,’ she added. The tracked, thick-skinned vehicles were fully visible now. They came to stop, resting heavily on their tracks less than a kilometre from the crater’s edge.
‘Where is the captain?’ Robert asked the guardsman. She responded by pointing to an area of the town on the display wall.
‘Our armour is in position, hulls-down; you won’t see them,’ she replied.
‘Let me talk to them,’ Robert said. ‘Barnsley, let me talk to them.’
‘We’re dark,’ Barnsley. ‘They’re dark. They didn’t come here to talk.’
‘They don’t know I’m here,’ Robert said, ‘they can’t. Give me one chance, I could prevent this.’
‘You’ll have to take it up with the captain,’ said Lieutenant Barnsley. ‘His orders come from the major.’ He held up hand to before Robert could reply and broke off to snap orders to one of his sergeants.
Robert turned to the scout, ‘Can we win this?’ She stared at the display, glancing at the lieutenant occasionally.
Eventually, satisfied she wouldn’t be overhead, she said, ‘If we still had Arundel.’
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