“Vaguely, Alan. I think that part of my memory got frostbitten in Greenland.”
“Well, I didn’t go to Greenland so I remembered it just fine. Dr. Pike, Dr. Fisher, and I came up with a ceramic aircraft engine design. They’re actually jet engines. The control surfaces are controlled by Kevlar wires and graphite composite pulleys and gearboxes. We also had a few larger cargo and troop transports delivered. The only metal in the whole thing is in the tiny computer chip that controls the ignition system and the ignition system itself. Alice used the same kind of design that she used for the little picosat. There ain’t no more metal in this thing than in a dollar’s worth of change.” Alan waved his arms a bit and smiled.
“And, they flew tree-top high from California to here without getting compromised by the bots,” Fisher added.
“No shit!” Gries said. “Good work, Sergeant Major Cady!”
“Sir!”
Alan and John seemed chagrinned. Of course it was Cady who sparked the idea in Alan, and Roger had told Alan to figure out how to build composite aircraft — completely composite. But had Cady not mentioned the ceramic engine he had seen on television years back they just might not have figured it out. Gries had to give Cady credit anyway just to goad the eggheads.
“So when do we get to try them out?” Rene asked.
“Thought you were never going to ask,” John said. “The crew that flew them in are inside ready to debrief you and then take a well-deserved nap, I guess. Go get debriefed and then shake them down. These fighters belong to your squadron, Colonel. I suggest you start training in them. Scaled’s test pilots also sent some information and video training guides. I suggest you take a look at those also.”
“Hot damn! Rene, gather the clans,” Bull ordered his sidekick.
“Yes, Colonel.” Rene saluted and the two of them rushed toward the hangar where the debriefers awaited them.
“Wheeeww,” Gries whistled. “You really outdid yourselves didn’t you?” The major turned to Alan and Dr. Fisher.
“Oh, we’re not done with you yet,” Alan said. “Get back in your Humvee and follow us.”
They drove back to a larger hangar building on the south side east of the airport. After they parked the vehicles, Alan and John led them inside to a row of motorcycles, buggies, and all-terrain-vehicles of various sizes and shapes.
“They’re composite. Down to the lug nuts.” Alan waved his arms at the vehicles.
“And they’re yours,” John added.
“That’s right. Equip them however you see fit. This is the motorpool for these vehicles. If you want to do something to them, the mechanics here are the ones to help you out. I will say this: be careful about drilling holes and how you mount things without asking first. Composite structures are funny and one hole in the wrong place and the entire vehicle might collapse. We did put hardpoints throughout them though, because we figured you’d want to mount stuff to them.”
“Uh, Alan,” Cady interrupted.
“Yeah, Thomas.”
“These ceramic motors. What do they run on?”
“Ditto,” Gries said.
“Oh, they run on regular gasoline, or kerosene, or alcohol, or just about anything that will combust good. They don’t need oil either since the ceramics are already godawful slick.”
“Sounds too good to be true.” Gries seemed concerned.
“Oh, not at all,” Dr. Fisher interjected. “There have been functioning ceramic engines for at least a decade and most of them can run on almost any combustible. You see, ceramics don’t need the cooling that metal engines do so they can run a lot hotter.”
“Uh huh.” Gries and Cady nodded.
Surprise is in the mind of the combat commander, Gries thought to himself. He had to remind himself that it didn’t matter why these tools worked. What mattered was how he was going to use them to win a war against alien machines that ate metal. They just might offer an advantage. What that advantage was he had no idea. But he would figure it out.
“As the colonel said, Sergeant Major, ‘Gather the clans’!”
“Yes sir!”
“Well, I think the DNA analogy is correct, Traci.” Alice stood at the end of the conference room in front of the big screen nodding at Traci Adams. The PowerPoint slide showed images from the bot nucleus analysis.
Around the conference table were Dr. Ronny Guerrero, Dr. Roger Reynolds, Traci Adams, Alan Davis, Dr. Tom Powell, Dr. John Fisher, and a speakerphone. On the other end of the speakerphone were colleagues at redoubts across the country. They were also receiving pseudo real-time Internet video of the conference as well. There were several other scientists and engineers and technicians across the country at military locations and shelters listening in on the conversation via the Internet.
“Alice,” Ronny said slowly, with his Cuban/American accent barely creeping through, “how does that help us?”
“Well, once I realized that the replication process of the probes is more like biological fission than anything else, the question of how they know how to replicate arose. Biological things have DNA for blueprints and this analogy led us down the path that the bots must have blueprints as well. Now what if, what if, mind you, we somehow figured out the bot DNA and mutated it?”
“Uh, Dr. Pike, this is Dr. Forrester in the AFRL redoubt in Albuquerque…” interrupted the speakerphone.
“Go ahead, Dr. Forrester.” Alice said a little too loudly.
“I’ve reviewed the data and can’t figure heads or tails about how the so-called DNA might work. Do you have any ideas there?”
“Unfortunately, no, Dr. Forrester. But, for now, let us say that we figure it out. Then say we mutate the bots to eat themselves only and then release them back into the wild.”
“Brilliant!” Roger slammed his hands down on the table. “That’s it, Alice, THAT IS IT! Fight fire with fire, absolutely. We should focus all our efforts on doing just that! How do we figure out the bot DNA code?”
“Search me. Again, I say that Dr. Richard Horton was doing some things along the lines of machine DNA, and there is a chance he might have figured it out, but as for me I have no idea. I’m not giving up and I have some ideas, but I recall Dr. Horton really having a knack for this line of thinking.” There was silence for a moment.
“This is the Wheeler Labs redoubt at Princeton. We knew Horton as you did, Alice. We wouldn’t put much stock in what that crackpot has to say.”
“This is DEPUTY SECRETARY REYNOLDS. Does anybody else at Princeton have an idea of how the bot DNA works?”
“Uh, sure we do, I mean…”
“Let’s hear it now, then,” Roger practically yelled into the speakerphone. Ronny grinned at him. Alan sniggered out loud. Traci patted his leg underneath the table.
“Uh, we’d have to think about it a bit more and get back to—”
“People, I’m not going to say this again. Most of the world has been eaten by alien machines. Hell, most of the solar system has been eaten by alien machines. And I will not for one second allow academic bigotry and egotism stand in the way of any possible idea or asset no matter how odd or wild it might seem. Even if it’s a long shot billion to one chance of it working. What else do we have? Not a whole helluva lot that’s what. At this point I’d piss on a sparkplug if I thought it’d help. Understand me?” Roger clenched his jaw, wishing he had that arrogant Ivy League prick on the other end of the speakerphone close enough to choke. His face was red and his head pounded and there was no telling what his blood pressure was.
There was no response from the other end of the line.