Bolos: Honor of the Regiment Part 13

"What's that?" Even before the Bolo could react, the colonel swore to himself and amended, "What's that red light flas.h.i.+ng on my left display?"

"Switching left display to main display," the Bolo replied.

Rheinhardt blinked as the main display shrank and moved left while the left display grew and moved directly in front of him. The red light, grown larger with the change of display position, flashed, Checksum error.

"Checksum error?"

"Data provided to processor D did not agree with the checksum for the data," the Bolo explained. "Either the processor is suffering a recurring failure on some of the data address lines or the checksum address lines are faulty."

"Is this normal?"

"It is outside of standard operating parameters," the Bolo said. "Since reactivation, this combat unit has had numerous checksum errors occur on all processors."

"Can you work around them?"

"For the present," the Bolo replied. "However, within the next ninety-eight point four-three hours, the probability of critical failure is within operational parameters with command supervision."

"'Command supervision'? What do you expect of me?"

"In the event of a failure of one or more of the subprocessors, this combat unit will require command input."

"I see," Rheinhardt said, "your computer systems work with a five-lobe voting system. The majority vote wins."

"That is essentially correct," the Bolo agreed. "There is a 99.98% probability that one or more processors will fail permanently before the completion of the a.s.signed mission. In that event, I have arranged to receive your input as a supplement."

"What happens to me if your systems fail completely?"

"The most catastrophic failure for a command supervisor would be total annihilation of this unit," the Bolo said. "In that case there is a zero point zero one percent chance that the Command Supervisor would survive."

"I was thinking of something less . . . catastrophic," Rheinhardt said. "What if your systems fail completely?"

"In the event of a processor failure, the power systems will be crippled and the interlocks on your combat position will be released," the Bolo informed him. "You can then manually remove the headset. Directly above you will see a yellow-striped black handle. Pull it down to activate the explosive ejection system."

"Ejection system?"

"It is designed to eject you and the command chair you sit on safely in all circ.u.mstances barring complete fusion of the compartment hatch to the exterior hull."

"Hmm, I see," Rheinhardt said, with a slight loss of enthusiasm.

"There is one more safety feature for that instance," the Bolo continued, "but I doubt it would be much a.s.sistance to you."

"What is it?" Rheinhardt asked, glancing around the various displays.

"An emergency command frequency beacon," the Bolo responded. "It broadcasts a Mayday on all Bolo comm frequencies. Any Bolo receiving a broadcast must respond and render aid."

"Hm." Given the chance of a nearby Bolo, Rheinhardt was unimpressed.

"In combat it has proven that even a heavily damaged Bolo managed to retrieve a trapped Commander."

General of the KriegsArmee Friedrich Marcks hovered impatiently over the communications console in the headquarters command center. "Well?"

The harried communications officer looked up at him bleakly, rubbing his haggard face and wis.h.i.+ng that his morning relief would come. "Still no luck, sir. We have been unable to raise the Bolo on all combat frequencies."

General Marius, standing behind his commander-in-chief, nervously muttered, "We've heard nothing since Wiesen last spoke to them."

Marcks turned to him, his unshaven face at odds with the intensity of his expression. "General Wiesen is certain that the Bolo went east?"

Marius nodded slowly. "Colonel Rheinhardt ordered him to open the gate himself."

General Marcks turned to General Sliecher, his head of Intelligence. "Have you got a fix on them yet?"

"No, sir, the Bolo leaves a surprisingly small trail behind it."

"Wiesen's men clocked it moving at over one-thirty," Marius added in amazement.

Major Kruger frowned sourly. "At that rate, it'll be in the mountains in six hours."

Marcks' face went white. He snapped his fingers at the Major. "What weapons do we have against the Bolo?"

"Sir, you cannot think that Colonel Rheinhardt would betray us!"

"No," the General replied sadly, "not at all. I am afraid that the Bolo has gone insane. We must destroy it. What weapons will do that job?"

"I know of none, sir," Major Kruger said after a long, painful pause.

"The first thing is to immobilize it," Marcks decided. "How can we do that?"

"Perhaps a tank trap," Major Kruger suggested.

"First we have to find it!" General Marius exclaimed.

"True," General Sliecher agreed.

"It's your job," Marius said accusingly.

Sliecher's eyes gleamed wickedly. "Indeed. General Marcks, perhaps my Noufrench counterpart would be of a.s.sistance?"

"Oh, I'm sure he'd love to help us destroy our Bolo!"

"All operatives a.s.sure me that this is a genuine request," General Jean-Paul Renoir, Chef d'Intelligence de l'Armee du Noufrance, told the general staff as he stood before them. He had traveled throughout the night from the satellite control station to headquarters but there was no hot coffee or croissants to greet him--only cold, tired faces.

"They want our bombers to destroy their nightmare," General Villiers, Chef du Material, said with outrage.

"I fear it is not just their nightmare, Jacques," General Cartier, Chef d'Armee, said, laying a calming hand on the rotund general's shoulder. "We have been aware of its existence for some time. The Bolo attempted to penetrate into our military network."

He paused while his generals absorbed this information. "Fortunately, we detected it and set up an elaborate ruse to misinform the machine. This effort was led by General Lambert who is still at the satellite control station, just north of Nouparis.

"The operation has only been in existence for some days now. We feel that it has proved successful." He paused, his lips drawn into a thin line. "Our success may well prove to be our undoing. It appears we have driven this thing mad."

General Renoir noted, "There is a chance that we can work this to our advantage. A combined operation, if successful, would strengthen ties between our two military establishments. If we help destroy this metal monster, our enemy will be honor-bound to deal with us peacefully."

"You are so mad for peace?" General Villiers mocked.

"Peace, particularly on our terms, is always preferable to war," the Chef d'Intelligence returned scathingly.

"I say let the Bolo wipe out our enemies for us!"

"And once it has done that, will it stop?" Renoir snapped in rejoinder. "No, better destroy it now when our combined air force has a chance than let it destroy us piecemeal."

General Cartier, who had listened to the whole exchange intently, made up his mind. "We shall help the Bayerische. We will make them pay for the ammunition, n'est-ce pas?"

General Villiers gave in reluctantly, "We have little enough ammunition as it is."

- III -.

For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill.

-Sun Tzu

"One must always study the enemy, Scratche," Jyncji Fleet Admiral Baron Rastle Speare said to his adjutant, Mids.h.i.+pman Jenkis Scratche.

"Study the enemy," Scratche repeated dutifully, as though committing the admiral's sage advice to memory. In fact, the young Jyncji officer had heard this speech so often that it already was committed to memory. But he knew that his chances of independent command and advancement depended upon staying in the Admiral's good graces.

"Yes," Speare repeated, "study the enemy. Understand their logic, learn from them."

"Learn from them," Scratche murmured dutifully. Use their tactics against them, the young Jyncji thought to himself. They were on the battle bridge, preparing to jump from the distant fringes of the human system to the lush, warm, desirable green planet fourth from the sun. A planet soon to be theirs.

Scratche could imagine the wealth of his very own Jyncji-formed lands. Count Scratche, or Earl Scratche, what shall I be, the Mids.h.i.+pman mused. The actinic glare of the harsh battle lights did not prevent him imagining the lush warming rays of an orange sun.

Scratche could count on his Admiral to be generous. And if he could not--he would find ways to ensure such generosity. In the meantime, he would keep his spines to himself, his snout firmly lowered, his claws sheathed, and his tone deferential. It was a difficult position for a Jyncji--not to be attacking with tooth and claw, nor yet to be huddled inside the defensive s.h.i.+eld of sharp spine that lined his back. Scratche felt his spines tingling with fear, while his blood flowed hot with war-l.u.s.t.

"Use their tactics against them," Speare said. The admiral's breath smelled just faintly of fehral.

Trust the old rodent to be blitzed before an attack! Scratche thought to himself. He filed the information away with the merest twitching of his snout. One day he might use it to p.r.i.c.k the Admiral's pride. For the moment he would keep the information tight inside him, just as he kept his spines tightly furled against about his back.

"And just what are their tactics, Milord Admiral?" Captain Sir Creve Pierce, Knight of the Puissant Order of Spears, inquired. He approached the raised command chair from the side where he had been overseeing the navigation officer.

Milord Admiral eyed his Admiralty-appointed flag-officer with ill-disguised contempt. He hissed, "You know my orders, Captain, be sure you follow them."

Captain Pierce lowered his muzzle obeisantly, his black eyes glinting fiercely in the intense white light of the battle bridge. "I shall, milord, and you will have no quarrel with me," the Captain said. "I merely asked, as we have arrived at that point when our jump in-system is imminent."

"One of their most ancient sages, Sir Captain, said that the epitome of skill is not to fight but to let your enemy fight himself into surrender," the Admiral replied. He turned to his adjutant. "Fetch me the latest from our probe. They must be fighting by now."

Speare turned back to the captain, nostrils twitching as though smelling the blood of the kill. "Soon, captain, soon we will jump in and collect their surrender."

"I am much relieved to hear that, milord," the Captain replied obsequiously, "I feared that the Admiralty might grow ill-disposed towards this venture after our long wait here at the edge of this solar system."

"Once the humans have been disposed of, it shall only be a matter of months before the planet is rightfully ours." Three hundred human years had pa.s.sed since the first, abortive attempt by Speare's long-distant ancestor, Sheik William, to conquer the human world. The ignominy of that defeat had been carefully hidden among other Jyncji conquests. But the venture had cost Speare's line immeasurably in both prestige and wealth. Now he, Rastle of the lesser Speares, would avenge the dishonor that had left the spiny backs of Speares furled against their bodies in shame.

"Colonel," the Bolo's voice drew Colonel Rheinhardt back from his ruminations about the forthcoming operation, "I have managed to penetrate the Noufrench military network."

"How?" Rheinhardt examined the combat displays. "They haven't detected you, have they?"

"They believe so, however their software security systems are no match for my efforts." The Bolo continued. "I have determined that the Noufrench were not responsible for the near-destruction of the terraforming microbes three hundred years ago."

Rheinhardt frowned. "Well, I'm certain we didn't do it. I suspect their records were destroyed."

"Perhaps their military records," the Bolo allowed, "but not their population statistics and agricultural reports. Those show clearly a deliberate, widespread a.s.sault on both the terraforming microbes and the staple crops of all areas of human habitation. My combat a.n.a.lysis indicates that another force was responsible."

"Some mutation of the planet's original ecosystem?" Rheinhardt mused, more interested in when they would cross the border than ancient history. By his reckoning, it should be any moment now. They had been on the move for several hours already.

"Negative," the Bolo said. "The planet's ecosystem is not sufficiently advanced. Even if it were, the distribution of the failure was from the center outward rather than from the outside of the terraformed area inward. That indicates a deliberate attempt."

"This is interesting," the Colonel said. "Relay a copy of your data and findings to our G-2, General Sliecher, please."

"There will not be time for that."

Rheinhardt narrowed his eyes. "Why not? We should be able to do it as soon as you begin your attacks. The Frenchies will know where you are then, certainly, so radio silence will not be an issue."

"I have calculated that the force responsible for the original destructive microbial infestation and outbreak of hostilities between Noufrance and Bayern has planned another attack," the Bolo announced.

"What? That's-" A rippling eruption of high explosives drowned out Colonel Rheinhardt's words.

"A direct hit! Excellent!" General Marius exclaimed jubilantly. They were still in the combat center but had moved from the communications post to the Battle Room. A large vidscreen relayed the sights and sounds of the devastation that ten tonnes of explosives had produced. Idly he glanced back at the tray containing the half-eaten sandwiches and coffee cups that had been lunch and wondered if a celebratory snack was in order.

"It's still moving," Major Kruger said, voice half-dejected, half-amazed.

"It won't for long," General Sliecher declared, "our bombers are making their pa.s.s now."

General Marcks paid no attention to their conversation. Instead, he directed himself to a vid-link. "General Cartier, it looks as though I shall have to ask, on behalf of the Astral, that your planes re-arm and return for another a.s.sault."

The Chef d'Armee du Noufrance nodded stoically. Figures scurried in the background behind him, one handed him a report. He glanced at it briefly, scowled in disgust and returned his gaze to the vid-link. "General Marcks, I must agree with you. L'Empereur--our Emperor--has authorized me to comply with any demands your government might reasonably make to aid in neutralizing this deranged implement of war."

General Marcks kept his face impa.s.sive but his eyes flashed at the unspoken rebuke delivered by the Noufrench supreme officer. "We all, General, as professionals, must remain constantly aware of the dangers of sophisticated weapons of destruction."