orifice. Right now, they were closed up tightly.
I sat down on the programmers stool and began conversing with Unit Six. I ordered them all to link-up and shut down any production that wasn’t immediately useful to defense. It was a shame, really. They were engaged in the production of a dozen useful goods-useful in peacetime, that was. Medical equipment was the primary export we had on the island when we weren’t building up weaponry. The Nanos had quite an extensive knowledge of the human body after having spent nearly a century dissecting specimens of our species. A brainbox, sensor kit and a set of three whipping arms were enough to do pretty much any surgery people cared to attempt. Combined with a generous helping of medical nanites, they could save a lot of lives normal human medicine couldn’t cope with. But programs like that would have to go on hold now. With the Macros entering our skies again, everything had to be thrown into defense. Everything.
Over the past few weeks, I’d reviewed our tactics against the Macros. One element that had been surprisingly effective was boarding efforts by our troops. In effect, my Marines had operated like independent spaceships in the final battles. The Macro cruisers as currently designed were not well-suited to stopping a mass attack by extremely small opponents. They usually only had one big gun on a belly turret. They also possessed a large number of missile launchers, but individual flying men weren’t the best targets for missile weapons. The best defense they’d had against my marines had been their own onboard marines, which had been larger and more effective than humans.
I recalled the boarding parties of the enemy. They had been very sophisticated. Flying on racks that resembled carrier trailers with a dozen automobiles chained into place, the enemy machines had been able to ride their delivery systems to my ship like troops aboard a missile, then deployed as individual fighters. They’d very nearly taken my ship with those tactics.
In comparison, our systems were primitive and unreliable. I had placed my own marines in a lightly- armored spacesuit and stood them atop a propulsion system my men affectionately called ‘skateboards’. In truth, they looked more like the pizza dishes kids went sledding on than skateboards, but they did require balance and skill to fly properly.
I needed a redesign. I wanted a system that could more safely and effectively deliver one of my marines to the enemy. Heavier armor would likely be required as well. The system designed would work best if it was able to function in multiple varied environments. Open space, certainly. But there were plenty of other conditions my marines might be required to operate under. They might need to fight on land, under the sea, on a high gravity world or even flying around in a planetary atmosphere-Earth’s atmosphere, specifically.
After doing some sketches, checking on weight allowances and gross materials, I was ready to build a prototype.
“Unit Six,” I said. “Respond.”
“Unit Six responding.”
“We are going to create a new program. Make space for it now without deleting existing programs.”
“Done.”
“Load battle suit configuration from my suit’s repository,” I ordered.
Unit Six paused for a moment. I knew it was transferring data wirelessly from the recording brainbox on my own battle suit. My current design of such suits was naturally stored in the suit’s brainbox, along with a lot of other useful information. I’d just finished my long series of alterations when Sandra contacted me.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“General Kerr. He knows about the Macros and others things. He’s demanding to talk to you.”
About a hundred and fifty times a day some foreign dignitary demanded to talk to me. I dodged ninety-nine percent of them. General Kerr, however, had to my knowledge never wasted my valuable time.
“Just a second,” I told Sandra.
“Unit Six,” I said. “Build me that prototype as currently designed.”
“Working.”
“Give me a time estimate to completion.”
“One hour, nine minutes.”
“Good,” I said. “Run program.”
“Executing.”
The machine near me began digesting metals and gently heating up. A quiet, thrumming filled the room. For the hundredth time, I wondered what the hell these things were doing inside. I felt like a monkey running a microwave.
“Sandra? Could you come in here and babysit this machine while I walk over to base headquarters and to General Kerr? I want to have the big screen in front of me, as I’m sure he’ll want a tactical update. After I get off the phone with Kerr, we can eat.”
“Eat?” she asked. “I know you, this will not be a real date. You mean you’ll bring some food to Shed Six, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “No time to fly Socorro to Miami tonight.”
She sighed. “All right. I’ll be right there to babysit your machine. I’m only going to do it for ten minutes, however. I want you to hang up on him after that.”
I chuckled.
I walked over to headquarters. Once inside, I adjusted my headset and opened up a channel to General Kerr.
“Kyle? Is this damned thing on? Are we connected? Talk to me, Colonel Riggs.”
“What can I do for you General?” I asked, trying to sound positive.
“You just had to do it, didn’t you son? You just had to play tag with the aliens again, piss them off and bring them straight home to eat my planet.”
“You were happy enough when I destroyed the four cruisers bombarding Europe.”
“Four cruisers? I’d trade my wife and kids in a straight-up swap right this second, to be facing only four cruisers. Can you see your screen? Can you see the red triangles floating around Venus? They tell me those are hot death for Earth.”
“Yes, General. I’m looking at the same data you are.”
“Self-sacrifice, if that will help,” General Kerr went on in my earpiece. “I’ll face them alone out there in my undies, if that’s how you want it. No suit, no nanites. Just give me a pistol, that’s all I ask. Pistols will fire in space, won’t they?”
“Um, yes they will, sir,” I said, frowning. The general was often excitable during stressful moments, but I couldn’t recall having heard him in a mood like this. “Have you been drinking, General?” I asked gently.
“Damn straight I have. And I’ll tell you why. You want to hear why, mister-professor-colonel Riggs?”
I had a feeling I was going to hear why no matter what I said, so I kept quiet.
“Because you brought home one hundred Macro cruisers to kill us all, that’s why! And they rolled right through your little minefield. I bet you thought we didn’t know about all that, but we primitives hiding in caves at NORAD have a few cameras of our own left in the sky.”
“I’m sure you do,” I said. “But there are only ninety-two enemy ships, sir.”
“What?”
“There are only ninety-two surviving vessels, and many of them are damaged.”
“I don’t give a rat’s dick about that. Ten would be more than enough. We saw it all. We saw your mines fail to stop them, and we saw them form up behind Venus, just like last time.”
“Um, you have described the situation fairly well. Now, if you don’t mind-”
“What I want to know is: What the hell you are going to do about it?”
I thought quietly for a second.
“Hello? Riggs? Don’t get prissy with me-”
“Perhaps you can help, General,” I said.
“How so?”
“You can sober up, then talk to every military worth a damn on Earth. Tell them not to fire if the Macros come close. Tell them to wait until they are fired upon, or I request their aid.”
“We have to fire first! It’s use-it-or-lose-it when you’re talking about nuclear weapons, son.”
“Normally, yes. But I want you to hold back. I know the U. S. and several other nations have built up a
