The Genie and the Engineer 3: Ravages of War (13 page)

Ascraeus Mons

Mars

Thursday, 8:45 a.m. LMST

April

Day 132

T
he black cube
of a Scottie darted through the portal, hanging above the nearly airless
surface of the caldera of Ascraeus Mons. He was followed, one by one, by more
Daneels until there were a total of two hundred of them gathered together.

A second portal opened allowing Paul, in his spacesuit, to float
through and join them.

He glanced around at all the black cubes suspended in
mid-air, spotting Daneel 1 as the Scottie moved closer to him.

“Ready when you are, Dad,” said a voice through a small
transceiver mounted in Paul’s transparent diamond helmet.

He nodded in reply.

Daneel 1 lowered himself to the Martian surface where he
made physical contact before casting a spell. A new portal opened, this time
many millions of miles long, all the way to the surface of Earth’s Moon.

This portal represented a new feature, only active for a
little over a week now. In light of the nearly continuous stream of trips that
were being made back and forth to Earth for supplies, Paul had directed that a
more streamlined method be developed, this one using a very long range portal rather
than a long series of short (300,000 miles each) portals across interplanetary
space. Two weeks previously, Daneel 1 had therefore organized two small teams
of Daneels, one at Ascraeus Mons and the other at Peary Crater on the North
Pole of the Moon, to implement Paul’s request.

Of the two teams, the one that went to Peary had by far the
more difficult task. Their job was to construct a single solidified mass of
lunar rock and soil in the northern rim mountains, one large enough to be used
as an amulet with the power to reach Mars via a portal. The idea was to use
Peary as the doorway for the trips back to Mars from the Earth.

The team at Ascraeus Mons had a much easier job: enlarging
the ‘solid rock’ of the caldera that Daneels 1 and 2 had created earlier, to
make it big enough and powerful enough for the range necessary to reach all the
way to the Moon.

Why the Moon and not the Earth? The amount of the energy
dissipated by such a long distance jump would be instantly detectable if one
end of that long of a portal occurred anywhere on the Earth’s surface. Hence the
need to use the Moon as a way station instead.

The rim of Peary Crater at the Moon’s North Pole was chosen
for a special purpose. It was the only spot on the lunar surface that received
full sunlight for more than 90% of the year and which therefore would maintain
a nearly constant temperature. It was Paul’s hope that they could one day build
a small permanent transfer station there.

The two hundred Scotties, led by Paul, arrived at the
monolith at Peary. Paul took a moment to glance around at the terrain, somehow
more stark and alien than that of Mars. Here the mountains were brighter, the
shadows in the depth of the crater (which never saw sunlight) totally black and
impenetrable.

Then everyone portaled out again. This time the distance was
much shorter, to a point ten thousand miles above the night side of Earth’s surface.
From there, they darted, portal by portal, around the equator until they were
on the daylight side, above the South China Sea. Slowly, they portaled in
closer, to just 500 miles from the surface.

Their timing was such that it was just a few minutes after
noon in Manila in the Philippines.

Paul cast a small spell to key the mike on his transceiver.
“Daneel 1, create a grid search pattern of the northern end of the South China
Sea. Assign each Daneel to visually scan a square of the grid. Use infrared if
there are clouds in the way but keep the scan passive. Look for naval ships of
any type, large aircraft or small jets moving at supersonic speeds. Report
significant contacts.”

“I will comply,” Daneel 1 said, in a perfect imitation of
Seven of Nine’s feminine voice, from
Star Trek Voyager
.

Paul raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “I’m creating an army
of sci-fi geeks.”

“Oh?” Daneel 1 replied. “Next thing you’ll be saying is that
we’re blocks off the old chip.”

“Ooh, ouch! I surrender, already. Please, do the visual
scan.”

“Roger, dodger.”

“Uh, Daneel 66 here, Dad. I’m picking up UHF chatter, in the
250 to 380 MHz band from the area below! Listen to this!”

Paul blinked, then focused his attention on the sudden buzz
of radio traffic, interspersed with static filled pauses.

“Nine! On your six! Break right, break right!” said an
agitated deep male voice.

“Copy, twelve,” replied another voice, breathing short heavy
gasps.

A second of static, followed by:

“Fox two! Fox two!” shouted yet a third voice.

“Eight is hit! Eight is hit! Going down! Ejecting!” cried a
fourth voice.

“Copy, eight!”

“On his tail, on his tail! Guns, guns, guns!” shouted a
fifth voice.

Paul waved a hand and the radio chatter was cut off.

“It would seem that the party has started without us,” Paul
noted with a grim voice. “Daneel 1, find that dogfight! Then let’s take down a
hundred Scotties, using the same tactics that Mom used in Brasilia last year to
distract the pilots. Pass the word to take out any missiles in the air. Don’t
try to be stealthy. I seriously doubt if there are any Oni or wizards in the
cockpits of any of those planes.”

“Right, Dad. Only…”

“Only what?” asked a puzzled Paul. “We must hurry. People
are dying, both Americans and Chinese.”

“It’s just that ‘Having been a first officer yourself, you
know that assuming that responsibility must, by definition, include the safety
of the captain. I have no problem with following any rules you lay down, short
of compromising your safety.’”

Paul grunted in surprise at the quote, recognizing it from
Star
Trek: The Next Generation
. And the next line was his.

“And you don’t intend to back off from that position?” he
asked, with a glower.

“‘No, sir,’” replied Daneel 1 mostly firmly. “There are two
hundred copies of me. And only one of you, Dad. You are not replaceable.”

Paul sighed. “Something tells me that this is not the only
time this conversation is going to come up. Very well. Take a hundred Daneels
with you. Break up that dogfight!”

“‘I MUST obey my master!’” Daneel 1 quipped, quoting Darth
Vader in
Star Wars, Return of the Jedi
and using his deep distinctive
voice.

“Not Vader, please!” Paul begged, with a wince. “Keep me
informed! Ah, Daneel 101, where are you?”

“Here, Dad,” volunteered another black cube, moving forward through
the crowd.

There was a string bulb series of flashes as ninety-nine
Daneels portaled out, following Daneel 1 in the lead.

“Daneel 101, please continue the visual search,” ordered
Paul. “Find the carriers! And keep track of the radio chatter.”

“‘Resistance is futile,’” the Scottie wisecracked.

Paul cast his eyes heavenward in vexation. It was going to
be that kind of day.

Ω

One hundred black cubes raced across the clear blue sky. A
few miles in front of them were at least two dozen fighter jets, mostly
American F/A-18 Hornets and Chinese Shenyang J-15’s in a free-for-all
dogfight—spinning, banking, climbing, and dodging their way around the sky in
all sorts of high G maneuvers. There were several small objects, apparently missiles
that screamed through the air after various planes. One such made contact and
there was an explosion, a plane spiraling out of control, breaking into pieces.

It was a real furball of a fight!

“Daneel 50! Rescue that pilot!” shouted Daneel 1 as the
other Scotties neared the conflict. “All other Daneels, full holographic
license! Engage!”

Ω

Lt. Riche the “Ruble” Towles banked his F/A-18F hard right,
in an effort to shake the Chinese J-15 on his six and avoid a missile up his
tail. Such was the G-forces on him that the lower part of his suit had
inflated, to keep the blood from collecting in his legs. And even at that, his
vision was blurring on the outer edges.

Nevertheless, it was impossible to miss the sudden
appearance of the large winged creature that descended out of the sky on his
right wing, banking with him.

He even recognized it, from the movie
Avatar
. Yeah, a
mountain banshee, this one ridden by a Na’vi, his hair whipping wildly in the
wind. The rider turned his head to Towles and, raising one hand, waved at him
before turning back to the front.

“No way!” Richie gasped, as he jerked the stick downward and
back to the left, barely avoiding both the fictional flying beast and the PL-9
missile on his tail.

Ω

Lieutenant Commander Jerry “Eight Ball” Paxson, in Beef
Eater 7, completed a high yo-yo maneuver, flattening out perfectly behind a
J-15, lining the enemy plane up in his HUD.

“Dead meat,” he hissed as his thumb moved to the missile
launch button.

But then his plane shook hard and three large black shapes
shot past, one on each side of him and one above.

For a moment, his mind refused to accept what he was seeing.
Then they registered. Imperial TIE fighters! From
Star Wars
! No, not
here!

He yanked back on the stick, maneuvering for distance.

Ω

Both the Chinese and American pilots were frantically breaking
free of the melee, clawing for distance, each pilot having experienced multiple
“hallucinations” ranging from air-borne fire-breathing dragons to a Borg cube
to a pterodactyl to flying saucers (from
The Invaders
) to various space
fighters (from
Babylon 5, Space 1999, Battlestar Galactica, UFO, The Last
Starfighter
and a host of other movies and TV shows).

As the jet fighters fled the scene, heading back to their
respective carriers, Daneel 1 arranged to have the pilots who had been shot
down fished out of the sea and ‘returned.’ The two Chinese pilots (one alive
and slightly injured, the other deceased) to be dropped via portal to Woody
Island in the Paracel Island group. The Americans (one of them seriously
wounded) on the front steps of the hospital on Antonio Bautista Air Base on
Palawan island in the Philippines.

Ω

Paul tried to rub his hands to wipe off the sweat, a
difficult thing to do when confined in a spacesuit. More sweat dewed on his
brow, which he also could not reach.

The spacesuit was getting a bit uncomfortable, both in terms
of smell and the various itches that he could not scratch. And too, he had been
in zero-G long enough that he had dispatched two Scotties down into the atmosphere
with one of his air bottles to recharge it with oxygen. But despite the discomforts
of his current situation, there really was no better place than here in low
orbit to monitor the battle.

While he was waiting on Daneel 1 for a progress update,
Daneel 101 had reported locating both the Chinese and American fleets. Paul
studied the holographic aerial view of the US aircraft carrier as it ploughed
its way westward past the Luzon Strait. The other ships of the carrier strike group
were positioned ahead of the carrier, up to twenty miles further west.

Daneel 155 found the Chinese aircraft carrier and the
associated destroyers and frigates 450 miles to the west, closer to Hainan
Island. That fleet could be seen steaming on an intercept course with the
American one.

“I’m getting reports from other Daneels. They have visuals
of four groups of aircraft in the area,” Daneel 101 told Paul.

“Show me on a map,” Paul impatiently demanded.

The standard holographic display popped up in front of them.
“Group one seems to be holding station around the American carrier. There’s a
second bigger group of planes, dead center between the two carriers. That must
be the air battle. In the last few minutes, it looks like it has started
breaking up. Whatever Daneel 1 is doing, it seems to be working. Group three is
over the Chinese carrier. Probably a protective screen. Now, the puzzler is group
four here to the north, not far off the Chinese coast, just east of Hong Kong.”

“What’s funny about them?” Paul asked puzzled, studying the
map. “They seem to be heading away from the battle.”

“They are now. But a few minutes ago, they were heading in
the direction of the American carrier.”

A funny feeling came over Paul, as if someone had thrown a
shovel full of dirt on his grave.

“Daneel, get everyone searching really fast along the line
between those planes and the US carrier. Look for small, fast moving and
low-flying objects. Like cruise missiles.”

“Acknowledged,” the Scottie replied crisply.

Paul had to only fidget for a minute before Daneel 101
reported the results.

“Dad! There’s a lot of them, moving at just under Mach 1,
only a few minutes northwest of the American carrier group!”

“Scramble everyone down there, right now!” Paul thundered,
one eye twitching nervously. “I don’t care if there are Oni or wizards on those
ships, those cruise missiles have to be stopped!”

Ω

Aboard the DDG 104 USS
Sterett
, Commander ‘Captain’ Kacie
Yates stood on the wing of the bridge, studying the horizon with her set of
binoculars.

“Ma’am?!” interrupted a voice from inside the bridge. “CEC
datalink from the E-2D. Intermittent contact, bogies to the northwest!”

“Condition One!” she snapped as she lowered the glasses. “Helm!
Make your course, tree-zeero-zeero! All ahead flank! Stand by birds!”

She took a deep breath before stepping back into the
confines of the bridge. Despite her naval rank, this would be her first time in
actual combat. She prayed that both she and the crew not only survived but that
they did not disgrace themselves under fire.