Part 14 (1/2)

”Oui.”

”What was that?” Rheinhardt shouted, desperately searching the multiple displays in his combat visor. He could not hear himself, the explosions outside had been so loud. The air smelled of burnt wiring and hot metal. The Bolo heaved, jerked a little and continued on. ”Are you damaged?”

”I have sustained no major loss of combat ability,” the Bolo reported. ”I am tracking a westward flight of approximately forty jet-propelled aerial vehicles.”

”Bombers? Shoot them down!”

”Negative,” the Bolo said. ”They will be required for future operations.”

”They are enemy bombers!” Rheinhardt shouted, slamming a fist against his cus.h.i.+oned restraints in futile emphasis.

”No,” the Bolo responded, ”they are Noufrench bombers.” Rheinhardt's main display changed to a relief map, displaying two flights of aircraft, one receding westward, one approaching from the east.

”Bayerische bombers approaching as predicted,” the Bolo noted calmly.

”Shoot down the b.l.o.o.d.y French!” Rheinhardt yelled. ”That's a direct order!”

”That contravenes your original order,” the Bolo replied.

Rheinhardt was outraged. ”My order was to destroy the enemy.”

”Nearly correct,” the Bolo agreed. ”Your orders were to destroy the enemy in an optimal manner. The Noufrench are not the most dangerous enemy, therefore destroying them at this time is non-optimal. I compute that I shall not remain combat effective upon completion of the primary mission. However, my calculations indicate that with the destruction of the enemy, enmity between Noufrance and Bayern will cease, at least as regards further military actions.

”Bombers commencing their run now,” the Bolo called. All further reports were lost as a long, loud pounding filled the air. Rheinhardt's body throbbed in the rolling concussions which battered the Bolo's hull. He let out a long scream of sheer terror but never heard it. The earth shook, rolled, steadied.

Several moments later, the Bolo reported, ”The bombers have completed their run and are returning to base. Next a.s.sault is in-in-”

Rheinhardt let out a gasp as the Bolo was thrown into the air and fell back to the ground with its metal hull audibly groaning as it was twisted in the blasts. The pounding continued, the hull armor shrieked at the pressures exerted on it. Rheinhardt felt a sharp pressure as his left eardrum burst and a warm trickle as blood rolled out his ear and down his collar.

Screens flickered and shrank in Rheinhardt's CVC helmet. For a moment, everything was black. Then the screens flickered again, the main one dodged left and was replaced by a sea of red critical failure lights.

”Bolo?” Rheinhardt called. Nothing. He tried again, ”Das Afrika Korps, report.”

”Beautiful! Beautiful!” General Marius crowed, nearly dancing with joy in front of the vid-link display of the ma.s.sive bombing run. Flames flickered in the depths of the explosions, barely visible amongst the huge clouds of smoke that snaked upwards from the ground.

”It's not moving,” Major Kruger observed. ”We stopped it.”

Static crackled in his earphones. A hiss replaced it. ”Das Afrika Korps reports. Milnet data-link hardware destroyed as antic.i.p.ated. Minor damage to hull, 20% of reactive armor inoperative but no critical areas exposed. Minor damage to track, increasing c.u.mulative damage from 49% to 51% of combat limit. Additional scoring on external optics, c.u.mulative damage at 37% of combat limit. Degradation and damage to 5% of total on-line data storage devices, operational volatile memory at 57% of total, 3% of volatile memory free.

”Current position forty kilometers from coastal insertion point, next attack antic.i.p.ated in ten minutes.”

”Coastal insertion point?” Rheinhardt queried. His momentary surprise at his sore throat was relieved by the realization that he had gone deaf in one ear and was shouting to compensate. Somewhere in the hull metal had melted, he could smell it.

”The antic.i.p.ated point from the land into the sea. At this point air attacks should cease and there is a 92.3% chance that the enemy will conclude that this unit has ceased to have combat effectiveness.”

Colonel Rheinhardt sat silently as he digested this information. He stretched as best he could in the combat restraints, collecting his thoughts and calming his nerves. ”Those were our bombers in that last attack?”

”Yes. Approximately fifteen metric tonnes mix of high explosives, armor-piercing kinetic projectiles and some small number of armor ablatives,” the Bolo said. ”As calculated, your Bayerische command has concluded that this unit has gone rogue and must be destroyed.”

Illumination dawned on the colonel. ”We went out the wrong gate! You lied to me!”

”No,” the Bolo replied.

”Speak up!” Rheinhardt shouted irritably.

”The gate was the correct gate to use for optimal destruction of the enemy,” the Bolo said. Apologetically it added, ”I regret that my smart armor was nonfunctional or I would have spared your ears the worst of the blasts.”

”It was not the gate you were supposed to use,” Rheinhardt said, ignoring the feeble apology.

”I am programmed to provide independent optimization of all military operations if given such lat.i.tude,” the Bolo said.

”And my 'optimal' stipulation gave you all that lat.i.tude?” Colonel Rheinhardt surmised. ”Then listen carefully, Bolo Das Afrika Korps, your Commander orders you to implement Operation Totalize.”

”New orders understood and accepted,” the Bolo responded. ”Please provide details of Operation Totalize.”

Colonel Rheinhardt's eyes grew wide. ”You were issued the details of Operation Totalize via the Milnet data-link.”

”A military data plan was received over the Milnet data-link,” the Bolo agreed, ”however it was stored in an area of memory that has become damaged in the past two bombings.”

Rheinhardt absorbed that incredulously. ”You put the d.a.m.ned data in uns.h.i.+elded memory!”

”That is quite possible,” the Bolo agreed. ”It would seem to be a logical outcome of your original orders that I ensure you would not be disposed towards countermanding them.”

”Well I am-” Rheinhardt broke off, perplexed. ”Why would you need my approval?”

”As predicted, one of my processors--Processor B--has failed,” the Bolo replied. ”You can now order this operation curtailed. I calculate that, unless this operation succeeds, there is a 98.9% chance that all human life on this planet will be terminated within eighteen months.”

Rheinhardt frowned. ”I need evidence of this claim.”

”Center screen.” the Bolo said. The center screen changed images, displaying a map of the local solar system. ”The red blips are targets identified as moving under intelligent control. Preliminary data indicate that they do not conform to any known human s.p.a.ce vehicle.”

”Your data is three centuries old,” Rheinhardt pointed out.

”True, and incomplete owing to data loss,” the Bolo admitted. ”However, the vehicles do not conform to any extrapolation of previously known vehicles.”

”Science moves in leaps, Bolo.” Rheinhardt reminded it. ”You were totally unaware of Quirthian logic.”

”I have corrected that and am now employing a Quirthian a.n.a.logue circuit,” the Bolo said. ”Even with its abilities, I predict that these s.h.i.+ps have less than a .03% chance of human origin.”

Rheinhardt's brows rose respectfully. ”No one has been able to manufacture a Quirthian strand utilizing Von Neumann architecture.”

”It was not difficult,” the Bolo replied. ”If you look at the tracks of the vehicles, you will note that a logical projection of their current trajectories will put them into attack position over the planet in some eighteen point five-four hours.”

”If you do not know their origin, how can you predict their intentions?”