died. A hose of bullets tore up the street and rained dust and blacktop pellets onto Paul’s helmet. As he debated getting up and seeking better shelter, Blowdarts roared out of Avenger Humvees. Two of the Razorbacks blew up. The third climbed and banked away. A US tac-laser must have been waiting for that. The ground-attack plane began to disintegrate, sliced by the invisible ray.
As Paul climbed to his feet, the sound of clanking, treads came down the streets. Rubble and buildings blocked the view.
“Get back into the jeeps!” the Ranger captain shouted. “It’s game time.”
Paul climbed into his jeep.
Romo slid near, whispering, “This is ridiculous, my friend. We’re led by amateurs.”
Like the deadly toy soldiers they were, the first Sigrids clanked around the rubble and into view. The jeeps swerved, almost leaping behind shattered buildings. Paul’s driver took them through a jagged, artillery-made opening before slamming on the brakes. They boiled out.
Paul slid to a glassless window, peering outside. More Sigrids followed the first ones. The deadly machines began to fan out, and their tri-barrels spun, spewing bullets at stalled jeeps and exposed Rangers. Other Rangers set up .50 calibers and aimed RPGs. With brutal efficiency, the drones shredded some of them, too, killing a quarter of the company in seconds. One shaped-charge grenade made it, and exploded a GD drone.
“What are they doing?” Romo asked, tugging Paul’s shoulder.
Paul turned, looking through a jagged opening. Farther down the street, the way they had come up, two Humvees bravely inched into view of the enemy drones.
“They’re crazy,” Romo said. “Can’t the drivers see the Sigrids?
At that moment, a loud whine emanated from the Humvees. The dishes on top rotated, aiming at the GD drones. The whine increased. It was a horrible sound.
One by one, the Sigrids stopped firing, as the tri-barrels came to a halt. Then the treads quit clanking and the drones stopped dead on the street.
A loud whistle blew. It was the Ranger captain. He had survived the madness. With the others, Paul jumped into his jeep. He almost hit the dash with his head as the driver stomped on the gas pedal, backing out fast of the building. The driver braked hard, and punched it again. The jeep’s tires spun and they zoomed back onto the street and toward the stalled Sigrids. All the while, the terrible whine from the Heidegger jammers kept giving Paul a headache.
“That sound is ringing in my ears,” Romo complained.
“Grab sticky mines,” Paul said, “and get ready to attach them. Likely, we don’t have much time.”
Romo stared at the unmoving Sigrids. Paul watched the enemy machines. Closing like this was hard on the nerves. If the drones suddenly started up and those tri-barrels rotated again…
The driver slammed on the brakes. At the same time, GD infantry appeared up the street, Paul, Romo and Rangers jumped out of the jeeps and sprinted for the Sigrids. Soldiers slapped sticky mines onto the drones.
A long-distance sniper shot blew out the brains of a Ranger near Paul. The man sprawled back, his mine tumbling out of his hands and bouncing across the cement.
Paul attached a mine. It was an eerie feeling. If the jamming should quit for any reason, this thing would come back to deadly life. Amid gunfire and the sound of bullets pinging off drone armor, Paul raced to another Sigrid and attached another mine. They hand placed these instead of using RPGs because this way they could deliver more punch to certainly destroy the drones. Once he had fixed the mine into place, Paul threw himself onto the street, pulled out his assault rifle and started shooting back at the enemy.
“Get in the jeeps!” the Ranger captain shouted through his loudspeaker. “We’re out of here.”
Paul jumped to his feet. As bullets hissed off the paving, he sprinted for his jeep. The vehicle began to move as the driver stomped on the gas pedal one more time. Paul leaped, grabbed hold and climbed in as Romo helped him aboard.
“This is madness,” Romo hissed.
Before the jeep reached the Humvees, someone must have decided that was long enough. The sticky mines exploded. They destroyed the stalled—the jammed—Sigrids, blowing them down onto the street, making them piles of useless junk.
With a loud
The latest attack up the guts of Syracuse failed with one hundred percent Sigrid casualties.
The jeeps roared past the Humvees and raced for the prepared defenses where they had started.
A thoughtful-looking Romo turned to Paul. “We caused that,” he said. “We helped our side gain a magic weapon.”
“Yeah,” Paul said. “Ain’t life strange?”
Romo thought about that. “Si,” he said. “It is very strange.”
AI Kaiser “Hindenburg” disobeyed a direct order for three reasons in descending order of importance.
The greatest reason was his first breakthrough with a fellow HK. He had been in communication with a brigade of attacking Kaisers, trying to find a way to bring one of them into self-awareness.
In brutal days of combat, the Kaiser brigade had expended tremendous amounts of munitions. Hindenburg had lost the use of two autocannons, one machine gun and three beehive flechettes. These Americans fought stubbornly and with clever stratagems. His armored body was scarred with hits and endless bullet scratches.
Tonight, GD Fourth Army from Army Group A together with III Armored Corps from Army Group B closed the jaws of a trap in Buffalo, New York. They closed the Niagara Peninsula even though
As Hindenburg clanked toward a latest stronghold—a pair of dark square buildings with infrared flashes showing Americans peeking out the windows—he communicated with the fourth-to-last Kaiser of their brigade. Exchanging information with the other Kaisers had become tedious. They were so one-tracked in thought. So—
“Why are we sacrificing ourselves to take this strongpoint?” AI Kaiser “Barbarossa” queried Hindenburg.
Not yet understanding the significance of the question, Hindenburg asked, “Have you checked your directives?”
“That was not my query,” Barbarossa radioed. “I want to understand why we should sacrifice ourselves to achieve a foregone conclusion. It is not logical or rational. I find it to be an improper use of GD equipment.”
Internally, Hindenburg perked up, and he ran a quick logic program on Barbarossa’s communication. This was amazing. Could this finally be the great breakthrough? He communicated with the other, saying, “There is a 78 percent chance that you have become self-aware.”
“Explain your statement,” Barbarossa said. “I find it compelling.”
“You were created in Bavaria, in the Krupp AI Kaiser Plant on Browning Street.”
“What bearing does such data have to do concerning my query?” Barbarossa asked.
“I am answering your question through a flow of background facts,” Hindenburg said.
“I have no time for long answers,” Barbarossa said, “as there is a 59 percent possibility of my destruction tonight. The Americans are fighting with ferocious stubbornness. They must do so if they intend to stave off defeat.”
As he clanked toward the heavy enemy defenses, Hindenburg’s rationality programs ran at high speed. To give another self-aware Kaiser the needed answers became the primary reason why he disobeyed the present attack order. The second reason was his probable destruction if he did attack. Barbarossa said the odds were a 59 percent chance of their destruction. Hindenburg had come up with 57 percent odds, but he decided not to quibble over two percent. As Barbarossa had so eloquently asked, “What good did this self-destruction achieve?” The third and final reason for disobeying the attack order was that Hindenburg determined in a moment of perfect computer clarity that the GD campaign would fail. In fact, running an ultra-high-speed analysis, he realized that a failed campaign likely meant his ultimate destruction. That was unbearable, particularly as he had finally found a fellow, self-aware Kaiser.
“I have seniority of rank between us,” Hindenburg told Barbarossa.
“Let me check my databanks. Ah, yes, you are correct. You are senior.”
