Live Free or Die, Second Edition, page 37
“Earth cut off,” Tyler said thoughtfully.
“It’s not news, yet,” Gorku said. “The Horvath are demanding the E Eridani system. The Rangora are supporting their position.”
“Bloody hell,” Tyler said. “Oh, bloody hell.” E Eridani was the only route to Glalkod. Fuel suddenly became a big issue.
“Also Cerecul,” Gorku said. “It is a long way around, but using Cerecul, the Horvath and the Rangora will have direct trade. Which means the Rangora can send them military assistance. So you see, time may be of the essence.”
* * *
“This is a very pretty system.”
“We’ll be going on to the Wolf system after picking up some crew,” Tyler said delicately. “But it’s a very pretty system, too.”
When Gorku had offered a ship fabber, Tyler had had the impression of some massive space dock. Which the Granadica was. It was also a mobile ship dock. Barely. It had about a grav of acceleration. But that was enough to get it rotating the gates on the way to Earth.
And a grav for something that was nearly a kilometer long was pretty impressive.
“I hope the crew understands I can’t work at my old pace,” the fabber said. “I’m not the young bot I used to be.”
“The project we’re working on has parts much smaller than a ship,” Tyler said. “At least the parts we need you to supply. I want you to devote at least thirty percent of your cycles to fixing yourself up. It’s apparent that your last…partners simply were not interested in your welfare.”
The fabber looked old. The surface, despite a meteor field, was pitted and worn. The corridors, despite the fact that it was a fabber, for God’s sake, were in horrible shape. It felt old. The air was rusty tasting. The drive shuddered so hard sometimes Tyler was afraid it was going to bust. It was old. Eight hundred years old. Older even than the Business. When it was first turning out cruisers and destroyers the Crusades were in full swing.
And it was a treasure. Stuff enough raw materials in one end and it spit out full spaceships on the other! It was capable of building 90,000-ton freighters! Shuttles! Fighters! Well, not really fighters because it was specifically restricted from making military technology.
Which meant they would have to strap the guns on later.
“Thank you,” the fabber said gratefully. “I so want to fix myself up! But with Onderil it was just ‘Produce, produce, produce! Why don’t you produce faster?!’ And it wasn’t even interesting stuff. Parts! Atacirc! Electronic toys! No ships. No new designs, just the same thing over and over and over…”
Granadica was a full-scale class II AI. That was more processor power than Earth had ever had access to. And he was carrying four more blanks. Earth had never been given access to AIs, blank or otherwise. Gorku must be really desperate. Not only that, he must have been talking to somebody on the Council who agreed.
On the other hand, it was said that AIs didn’t feel emotion. Granadica seemed to belie that. It really didn’t like Onderil.
“We’ll try to change that,” Tyler said quickly. “But we’re going to be doing a lot of parts at first. And I don’t know if we’re going to be making many ships, per se.”
“Oh, I’ve seen your plans,” Granadica said, just as quickly. “The Wolf project is going to be fun! We’ll need a lot of carbon, though.”
“For which there are a lot of asteroids,” Tyler said. “Which are also chock full of goodness like metals you can use to do repairs. The big problem is we’ve barely gotten a start on a SAPL. We’re going to need BDAs, VSAs and VLAs before we can get serious about the whole project. I hate to say it, but I’m going to need a bunch of satpaks.”
“No problem,” Granadica said. “The first thing I’ll do is fab two juniors. One to do mirrors and the other to do satpaks. We’re going to make one heck of a great system out of Wolf 359. A fine, productive system with lots of people to talk to. Speaking of which, there is a shuttle requesting clearance to dock. At least I think it’s a shuttle. Do you people actually fly on those things?”
“If you’re talking about a Columbia class,” Tyler said, chuckling, “I went to war in something that wasn’t half as good as a Columbia. So, um, yeah.”
“Magnetic bearings? And the field interaction equations are…Oh, dear me!”
The “Dear me!” clinched it. Tyler had been trying to pin down what Granadica, neuter though it was, sounded like.
But he wasn’t about to say it.
“If you don’t mind letting them land,” Tyler said. “Perhaps you should send permission to dock?”
“Already done,” Granadica said. “But I’m almost afraid they’ll blow up right there in my shuttle bay.”
“Hey, we’re doing repairs anyway,” Tyler said, walking down the corridor. “Bay One?”
“Two,” Granadica said. “One is a disgrace. And this is my body we’re talking about.”
“Sorry,” Tyler said. The blast doors to Bay Two opened up before he got there and he had a moment’s panic. He was starting to worry that Granadica was a bit batty and he didn’t want to go Dutchman. Especially without a suit. But the shuttle was already landed and the outer doors closed.
“Tyler Alexander Vernon,” Dr. Foster said. “I thought you were going to Glalkod to get a loan for the project. This isn’t parts for the project!”
“I was offered a deal I couldn’t refuse,” Tyler said. “There’s a support ship to follow. And a host of Glatun engineers. But we need crew, asap. For the support ship and Granadica as well as grunts for the Wolf project. Granadica, meet Dr. Foster.”
“I have studied your missions and papers extensively, Doctor,” Granadica said. “Welcome to the Granadica Fabber. I am Granadica.”
“AI?” Dr. Foster asked, his eyes narrowing.
“I am a Class Two Artificial intelligence,” Granadica answered. “I am capable of building up to a ninety-thousand ton freighter or support ship as well as parts for larger systems. I contain a full database of the most up-to-date designs in ships as well as various parts, materials, medical and IT systems and even…entertainment devices.” The last was said with a bitter edge. “The exception is military restricted gravitics, inertics and, sorry, lasers and missiles.”
“Oh, Granadica,” Foster said, running his hand over the bulkhead. “I am soooo glad to meet you. We have been flailing in midair for so long. Having someone who knows what it’s doing is…” He stopped and actually started to tear up. “Sorry. Dust.”
“I am please to meet you as well, Dr. Foster. We are going to have so much fun. I haven’t felt this young in centuries. And it’s been simply ages since I built a gas mine!”
FIVE
“Here goes nothing,” Tyler said, sliding the AI core into the block.
Atacirc was not running for as much as when Tyler had made an instant mega-fortune selling a truckload of it. But it was still pretty pricey. He had winced at the amount that was going to have to be connected to be worthy of the AI. The base AI core could perform as an AI perfectly well. If you wanted it to really rock, you needed a lot of spare processor power.
Then Tyler had realized he was getting a full-scale fabber. On the way back he’d asked Granadica if she minded, terribly, maybe, making some AI blocks. And of course she could make some for herself!
The AI core was a solid block of atomic level circuitry about seven inches across and ten high with a handle on top. Just that. Six hundred etabytes of processor power.
The processor block he was about to insert it into was waist high and a meter and a half on a side. One of the techs was muttering about “Googlebytes” but it wasn’t. Quite.
It also was in the most secure location they could find. The facility dated from the Cold War. It had been sold to a survivalist in the 1990s, but he’d been more than willing to quietly part with it when the DoD asked politely. Especially since they turned over a slightly less secure facility and paid for the move.
It was in the mountains of Kentucky. A “Regional Defense Headquarters” that just looked as if it was built in the 1950s. They were still working on fixing it up to modern standards. It wouldn’t take a direct hit from a KEW, but they were hoping to keep the location secret. It wasn’t, by any stretch, the first such repurchase.
“AI,” Tyler said, consulting a scrap of paper. “Command authorize activate, code Alpha-Omega-Nine-One-Six-Eight-Charlie.”
“And I’m awake,” the AI said in a monotone. “Good morning, Mr. Vernon. Personality input?”
Tyler looked over at SpaceCom, who just nodded.
“Your current partners are human,” Tyler said.
“Recognized.”
“Humans are addicted to metaphor. Would you be loath to assume the name Athena?”
“Greek goddess of wisdom,” the AI said, the voice sliding into a mezzo-soprano. “That seems fitting.”
“Also of victory,” Tyler said. “Authorizing General Fernando DeGraff as authorized user with command override. General DeGraff, Athena.”
“Hello, General,” Athena said. “Space Command commander. Fifty-two. Wife of twenty-nine years. Three children, all grown. Marine Corps. Twenty-seven year veteran. Initial utilization tour in Force Reconnaissance. Commander of Task Force Able Power during the Iraq surge. Various other positions of high merit. A bill is currently before the U.S. House of Representatives to redesignate Space Command the U.S. Space Navy. If it passes, you will be automatically promoted to a four star. Admiral, however. Does the change from general to admiral bother you? The two services are often at odds.”
“It will be a bit odd,” General DeGraff said. “Admirals have been the bane of my existence for quite some time. Athena, we need to discuss your mission and parameters thereof.”
“Very well, General.”
“You are being installed as the primary defense AI of the United States Department of Defense. Your missions, therefore, are the missions of the DoD. The Department of Defense’s mission is to protect the security of the United States, its citizens and its Constitution. However, by saying that I wish it to be absolutely clear that the DoD does not interfere in civilian control of the military. Nor shall you take any action having to do with purely internal matters of the U.S. government or its politics or its actors or matters of national security absent orders from higher that meet both regulatory and Constitutional tests. In general, absent some overriding requirement, the writ of the DoD starts at our borders, not within them. While I’m aware that there are broad holes in what I have said, do you understand both the legally binding points and the spirit of that order?”
“During the time that you were speaking,” Athena said, “while paying very close attention to your order, I reviewed all the regulations regarding control of the U.S. military, your Constitution, the most notable writings on the Constitution, secure and open notes of meetings during which the regulations were written as well as all the writings of the Founding Fathers of the United States related to Constitutional matters and every federal court ruling on strictly Constitutional matters, especially those related to national security.”
“All of them?” the general said.
“I read very quickly. I will be absorbing some processor cycles coming to terms with some of the relevant social conditions that affected the writing, to understand what is between the lines, as you would say, but I have read them all. I believe I understand both your order, in its letter and spirit, as well as the regulations and Constitutional guidelines. I promise not to take over because the President gives a bad order. In fact, having reviewed all of those documents, I will admit that I’d be more inclined due to recent Supreme Court findings. Have they ever read the Constitution? But it’s still not a problem. I will do my level best to protect the United States under those strictures despite the fact that the situation is most illogical.”
“We deal with that all the time,” the general said, trying not to sigh. “We are especially interested in preventing additional bombardments.”
“There is sufficient power with the SAPL,” Athena said. “However, as currently structured it is suboptimal. This comes under the heading of asking a corporation to change its actions. There are legal methods to do so, but I am unsure of your wishes in this regard. I also will need certain detection systems that you do not currently have installed. As it is…I’m mostly blind and I have both hands tied behind my back.”
“We are more than willing to rearrange the SAPL,” Tyler said, his brow furrowing. “As long as we can continue to use it for mining.”
“I have taken that into consideration,” Athena said. “There is a need for dedicated Very Dangerous Arrays, seven at a minimum and as many as can be arranged down the road, as well as some rearrangement of the other arrays so that I have more rapid targeting ability. I will also need gravitational gradient detectors. They are producible with your current technology. And about a hundred dedicated and repositioned BDA clusters. With those I can increase the probability of stopping bombardment to the close order of one hundred percent. Absent a severe degradation in the security situation.”
“Are you aware of the issue with the Rangora?” General DeGraff asked.
“I am,” Athena said. “That is one of the potential degradations. But it should not be as big of an issue as your analysts think.”
“Explain,” General DeGraff said, frowning. “I don’t want an overconfident AI, Athena.”
“The major issue is, unfortunately, restricted from manipulation or control by the DoD,” Athena said. “Direct conflict between the Glatun and the Rangora is a minimum of one year from present. But it is more likely to be in the region of five to seven. If Mr. Vernon’s company continues to build the SAPL at its current rate, given its new fabber, Troy and the capability to build mirrors more powerful than the VDA, by the time I would postulate direct conflict between the Earth and Rangora, any Rangora fleet that passes the gate will be shredded. Stopping all the missiles they might throw is less likely but still potentially possible. With Troy, Thermopylae and, by then, Station Three partially online, they will not stand a chance. As long as your government or other parties on Earth do not take steps that will prevent the continued construction of the SAPL.”
“Such as?” General DeGraff asked.
“I can answer that one,” Tyler said, making a moue. “The SAPL is a form of investment. If the next Congress raises taxes, as they’re expected to do, I will have to cut back on my construction rate on the SAPL.”
“Hmmm…” the general said, nodding. “That makes sense. But I don’t really see us being able to convince Congress to not tax Apollo Mining but raise them everywhere else.” He paused for a moment and then frowned as something struck him. “Thermopylae? Station Three?”
“What?” Tyler said. “You don’t think I was going to make just one, do you?”
* * *
“Professional and amateur astronomers across the world are watching in awe as Apollo Mining heats up a massive chunk of nickel iron in the main asteroid belt.”
The view shifted to Troy which was now cherry red.
“Given that it has not even come close to mining out the asteroid the company calls Connie, professionals are wondering just what they are up to. Here is Fox News space analyst Dr. James Eager to explain. Welcome, Dr. Eager.”
“Pleasure to be here, Jamie.”
“So what are they up to?”
“Oh, that’s pretty obvious if you’ve been following all the developments with asteroid 318516,” the astronomer said, smiling. He was wearing a tweed jacket that clashed with his strong upper-Midwest accent. “Apollo first stabilized the asteroid, then drilled it. Then, and coming from the background I come from I’m shaking my head about this, they then caught a comet and pulled a good bit of the mass into the hole.”
“Why?”
“It’s a habitat. Comets are mostly what we would call air. Frozen air, but air. Water and ammonia ice. Some oxygen and hydrogen sort of mixed in. But all of it compacted compared to air. Once the asteroid becomes molten, the comet will melt and then, well, boil. That will cause the asteroid to swell up like a balloon. Then you can fill the interior with air and you have an instant space station.”
“That is…amazing. How big?”
“Immense. Twenty, thirty kilometers across? Depends on the thickness of the walls. Enough room for millions of people to live off-planet. My team has been watching this, on and off, for some time. But we think they made a really critical error.”
“Which is?”
“They didn’t get enough of the mass of the comet into the asteroid. It’s not going to swell enough. It’s like trying to blow up a balloon with only one lungful of air.”
“They’ve spent a lot on this project. There have been some serious questions raised by shareholders since it’s affecting their bottom line. Here with us is Charles Carter, CEO of Roundtree Investments, one of the many investment firms which bought into Apollo Mining. Good afternoon, Mr. Carter.”
“Good afternoon, Jamie.”
“I understand you have some hard questions for Mr. Vernon.”
“That we do, Jamie. Until recently, Vernon and his people wouldn’t even talk about this project. It was just a line item on the prospectus. We had to find experts like Dr. Eager to tell us what it might be. And while the dividends from Apollo continue to be good, the PE ratio would be much better if they weren’t involving the company in this boondoggle. We have a duty to our own shareholders, and the fact that Tyler Vernon won’t even take questions about this project is troubling.”
“Are you considering selling?”
“Not at this time. The dividends, as I said, are still excellent and the PE is surprisingly good considering the amount being spent on this project, which is called Troy, for some reason. Apollo remains a good investment. It’s just that it would be a better investment if they weren’t pouring money into heating up an asteroid for no good reason. It’s not like a few million people are going to move off the Earth into a habitat that’s nothing more than a target for any attack!”
