“Current position forty kilometers from coastal insertion point, next attack anticipated 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 anticipated 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 latitude,” the Bolo said.
“And my ‘optimal’ stipulation gave you all that latitude?” 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 damned data in unshielded 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 space 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 analogue circuit,” the Bolo said. “Even with its abilities, I predict that these ships 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?”
“If you note the bright pink dot on your screen, near the larger moon, you will see that I have identified it as an intelligence gathering device,” the Bolo answered. “Since I have penetrated the Noufrench satellite control, I have been monitoring several attempts by that device to cause malfunctions in the satellites, thus disabling our only deep space surveillance systems.”
“They could be trying to communicate,” Rheinhardt objected.
“Negative. Communications require power levels orders of magnitude below those employed by that device. Its intent is clearly harmful.
“That information, in conjunction with my earlier observations about the assault on your planet’s ecosystem three centuries ago lead me to a 98% certainty that we are facing a renewed attack by the same force which failed in its previous efforts to eradicate human life from this planet.”
“Why don’t they merely repeat the original assault?” Rheinhardt asked. “Goodness knows, it was successful enough.”
“They will. However, the force assembled is too large for merely a xeno-forming infestation. They must realize that the terraforming microbes which survived the initial assault developed an increased immunity to similar assaults,” the Bolo said. “Besides, the enemy is being offered an unique opportunity to economize in its use of force.”
“What?”
“This war,” the Bolo replied. “Bomber assault wave converging as anticipated. Next attack in ten . . . nine . . .”
“Amazing!” General Marcks exclaimed as he viewed the aerial videos of the third bombing run.
“It is still functional,” he told General Cartier. “The Bolo has crawled out of the crater and is moving forward.”
“It is heading for the sea, General,” Major Krüger added, “it will enter near the Krazneutz ravine.”
“Hmm, we shall make sure that it does not reach it.”
“Ninety-eight percent of the bombs were direct hits!” General Sliecher said in a mixture of pride and amazement.
“General Marcks, perhaps I should have my force re-armed for another strike?” General Cartier suggested.
General Marcks cast a glance at Major Krüger who could only shrug in response.
“Yes, that might be wise,” the commander of the Bayerische KriegsArmee replied.
Rheinhardt’s good ear was numb from the repeated bombings. He fought back nausea as his inner ear attempted to recover from the repeated concussions. His breath came in gasps, with difficulty. The air was hot. With great effort he heard himself say reasonably, “Bolo, we have nothing to stop a bacteriological assault from aliens.”
“That is not true,” the Bolo replied. “It has been my main concern.”
“You have a solution?”
“Yes,” the Bolo replied. “A beam of coherent light set to a suitable wavelength could force the bacteriant to dissociate.”
“Could you say that in plain German, please?”
“I shall fire my main gun along the flight path of their bacterial assault ship.”
“And get the ship, too, or they’ll just come around for another attack.”
“That is my intention.”
“What is to prevent them from destroying you beforehand?” Rheinhardt asked. “You are clearly the greatest threat.”
“That is why I shall appear to have been destroyed before they make their assault,” the Bolo answered. Rheinhardt’s screens switched to an aerial map as the Bolo said, “The next Bayerische assault group approaches.”
“Wait, Bolo! You’re heading for the Krazneutz ravine! That’s a drop of a thousand meters!”
“I know,” the Bolo replied. “Please ensure that your combat restraints are securely fastened.”
“They’re tight!” Rheinhardt affirmed pulling on them earnestly. “Do you honestly expect us to survive that fall?”
“Yes,” the Bolo replied simply. “However, there is a forty percent chance that I shall lose one or more of my voting processors.”
“What can I do?”
“First, approve the current operation as detailed to you by me,” the Bolo replied.
“Show me that star map again.” The red dots of the enemy ships were closer, their orbits traced in fine fiery lines. Rheinhardt let out a long sigh. “Okay, your operation is approved.”
“Second, agree to act as tie-breaker if required.”
“Tie breaker?”
“I have five voting processors,” the Bolo explained, “in the event that I lose one or three, I shall require your vote on certain operations.”
“What if you lose four?”
“Then I shall initiate emergency shut down procedures,” the Bolo replied. “However, the probability is very low.”
“All right,” Rheinhardt agreed. “Anything else?”
“Third, consider your actions once this unit has been destroyed.”
“Destroyed? When-” Colonel Rheinhardt’s words were drowned out by the sound of exploding bombs.
“A message from Intelligence, milord,” Midshipman Jenkis Scratche said, handing over the message pouch.
Admiral Lord Baron Rastle Speare received the pouch, opened it and scanned its contents.
“A Bolo!” The words hissed from his muzzle in anger. “They attacked it! It has fallen into the sea. Our sensors can no longer detect it. The humans are convinced that it has been destroyed.”
“A Bolo,” Captain Pierce growled. “They destroyed a Bolo, milord. Our fleet would suffer grievously against such a force.”
“Nonsense, Pierce!” the Admiral snarled in response. “Do you believe for an instant that they did not pay dearly for such a victory? Most of their equipment must be damaged, their forces demoralized. It must be a bitter victory.” The Admiral bared his teeth in a savage smile. “Now is the time to strike! Send the order: jump in-system. Launch the assault!”