Chapter One: Extraction [1]
The name Tidal Generator was actually a misnomer. In a war where thirty minutes might as well be an eternity, could we wait for tides to arrive? We fought on worlds without moons, why does it matter?
Instead, there were actually several different types of Tidal Generators β one for extracting energy from surface waves, another for inlets with higher velocity water flow, another for taking advantage of currents along an ocean shelf, another for deep waters, and other even more modular forms.
The Tidal Generator I decided to build was anchored to the seabed. It was a tower made of interlocking blades sheathed by a funnel that pulled energy from ocean currents. The cap over at the surface of course still operated upon the ebb and flow of ocean waves. No part of the structure is wasted in the goal of capturing energy for the war effort.
In two minutes I'd laid down six of them.
Such were the build times when you're working with a nanolathe. Megawatts of energy churned ready to be tapped via quantum gate.
Similarly, the Metal Extractor was more than just a mine. It was a web of filaments extracting the rare metals so necessary for the assembly of nanobots. The resource named 'metal' was actually made of refined and prepared nanobots ready for teleportation to the nanolathe.
I had three Metal Extractors, spaced about a kilometer apart.
It took three minutes to set up my seed economy. I stopped for several more minutes, ignoring the screaming memories that said I was wasting time. Lay down a Shipyard, my instincts said. Get a Construction Ship, then some Skeeter-class Scout Ships for exploration.
In five minutes, I could throw up fortifications to defend against combined air-sea assault.
In ten minutes, an Advanced Shipyard, while banking my Energy and Metal outputs into massive building-sized Storage Units. Soon β Fusion Plants and whole fields of Floating Metal Makers. These devices converted Energy to Matter, specifically the rare elements needed for our most complex circuits.
In fifteen, Battleships and Carriers in the hundreds of thousands of tons escorted by whole squadrons of Seaplanes.
Time is a greater resource than either energy or metal. This is the way I waged war. On tens of thousands of fronts, I threw away millions of K-bots and cloned pilots. On others, whole armies walked under cloak.
For the Commander, it is knowledge that is the strongest weapon.
Find the enemy. Avoid contact or harass their economy. If I am to gain a foothold, then I must avoid attention and use my defensive posture to beat back assaults until I'm in the position to strike back.
A concentrated defense around the landing site has ever been the first priority. The advantage for the defender is ludicrous. But overwhelming force striking hard when you're not expecting it? That can crush even the strongest defensive line. The "me" that studied World War Two can only think of the Maginot Line. Pick a spot. Punch through.
But instead of a border defensive line, think of a wall that straddles a world.
I was about a hundred kilometers away from the battle site that woke me up. My Sonar Stations in passive mode could hear what remained of two fleets limping away from the encounter. The victors of this battle did not lose any ships, and gave no thought to taking aboard the enemy. Well, at least they didn't take the time to summarily kill all survivors.
Strange, though. The sound signatures were much lower than what I expected, for the outrageous amounts of energy released in the fight. I guessed they must be using some form of hydrofoil.
Why did I choose not to intervene immediately? Even as an ARM Commander, I was only one unit. There was little I could do to prevent sailors from drowning. What could save more people was to keep them warm and fed and sheltered from the elements.
(Shipyard?)
(Shipyard?)
Yes, fine. Shipyard.
I burned through half my reserves of Metal for a gargantuan half-sunken platform. The drain was an almost physical pain. I took a minute off to recover again. My nanolathe could not create units and vehicles, only structures. Only a factory had the blueprints and the wide-area nanolathes to construct hulls.
One could think of it as the difference between a program compressed into a zip file, and one that's ready to run. I had the blueprints for the thing that contained its own blueprints.
But instead of a Construction Ship, I ordered a Hulk-class Transport Ship. It would take a while to nanolathe.
Those were the longest, most terror-filled three minutes of my life. All the while, my memories were shouting something like (You fool! You're messing with the build order! You don't mess with the order!)
I knew I could not have survived the CORE Commander's Implosion Device. I knew I, as someone born on 21st century Earth, in the Terra Prime long forgotten, could not possibly have been part of the ARM Commander's memory banks. My memories were far too distinct for a holographic record, but at the same time neither could I deny that the great bulk of my memories spoke only of total war. The sheer relief at the war's end - the desolation of total defeat - they filled me.
It was perhaps this illogical, archaic personality and the emotional distance it offered that kept me from just placing the D-Cannon against my chest and pulling the trigger.
As I waited, I pondered two more questions:
1) As the ARM Commander, my body was nothing more than meat. If I leave this Commander unit, even if I die out there it could remake me in perfect detail within itself. I would however, lose all the experiences gained by my clone outside. Should I send in the clones?
2) The ocean was rather thick with plant life. I reclaimed them for Energy. So, what planet is this? It was oddly familiar for some reason, but neither of my selves could place that feeling.
The Hulk was prepared. It was a massive barge, nearly kilometer long from bow to stern, and a third of that from port to starboard, it designed to carry a full brigade into battle (back when we still used things as trite as military formations). Its superstructure was dominated by a colossal crane, with the ship's bridge right below. I moved to shallower where its derrick could pick me up.
The end of the crane's arm could pick me up either magnetically or in a scoop. I chose to cling onto the arm and ride up, surveying the horizon as if I were a mountaineer planting a flag.
As we moved, I ordered the Shipyard start building that Construction Ship so demanded.
The Hulk Transport, like all ARM units, was commanded by clones. However, in the war we had long ago realized that it was not necessary to clone the entire body. Nor was it important that the command brain be sapient β it only needed to follow orders. I knew the CORE also ran their lesser units on rudimentary and less resource-intensive AI.
The Hulk's mind was a like that of sedate cow. I decided to name it Matilda.
And off we sailed towards the place where the crew on lifeboats had already lost all hope for rescue. They were in the middle of the ocean, their supplies and water filtration systems could only last for so long, and their own people were in no position to send out ships for rescue.
I learned later on that when this absurd hulk of a ship came into view, their first thought was that their enemy had come back to finish them off. It took them some time to risk sending a message on an open frequency.
The "me" that fought CORE would not recognize that language.
It was easy for me to recognize it as English. Excellent!
That narrows down how many possible planets this could be. At least it's not Naboo.
Fucking Gungans. I am the Bigger Fish!
"This is the ARM Free Ship Matilda. I'm here to offer assistance." I replied. "Be warned: I don't have any medical supplies, but at least I can fish you out of the drink. Are you receiving, over?"
"Roger that, Matilda. The crews of the Gaian ships Dawn Greeter and Rosinbloom thank you."
Wait a sec.
The unease spreading through the linked circuitry crystallized the moment I saw the sigil on their lifeboats. A red and black flower, upon a green diamond box made out of thorns.
Fuckity. Fuck. Fuck.
The Hulk's crane picked up their lifeboats and laid them onto itself. Their panic and anger at the rude rescue faded quickly, and hesitantly they decided to step out onto the deck.
It was a mixed crew of men and women. Their captain saluted as I approached. I was still wearing my combat suit, and I could tell the crew had to consciously hold off on drawing their sidearms.
The captain's eyes flicked once, carefully noting how the deck was completely devoid of crew. "My thanks, sir. I am Captain Jacob Nobel of the Rosinbloom. We're ever in your debt."
I forced a smile onto my face. "No thanks needed, Captain Nobel. You may call me⦠Nemo. I'm always ready to assist the peace-loving Stepdaughters of Gaia." I saluted once, then held out my hand for a friendly handshake between equals.
The "me" that fought the galactic war against CORE was wondering why I was freaking out so much about these people on this one pissant planet.
MEMSTOR keyword "nanolathe"
- n retrieved:
Nano-lathing: Tiny robots (10 microns across or less) are sprayed onto a powered skeleton. They each 'know' allowable places they may link up (as well as being guided by the powerful intelligence within the nano-lathing unit) and as they settle into position they fuse creating solid material. Then a second stage of nano-lathing occurs where highly specialized nano-bots seek out precise locations on this skeleton to form optical links, weapon systems, intelligences, and other internal components.
Provided there is a blueprint, anything can be built with nano-lathing.
