General Paxton was a happy man. He had been a soldier his entire life, and while he was only a Captain during the last war, things had been pretty stagnant in the past three quarters of a billion years. The Terran Guard was a shadow of its former self, barely .001% of the UTL coin budget went into defense. It made sense, who were we going to be defending against after all?
All that has changed, we have a real, and serious threat. He happily hummed to himself as he read the latest fleet updates. Almost a quarter of all Terran Guard fleets were already at maximum skip in route to Nal’Shiar space. Those first ships will arrive in three months, which should give us enough time to prepare defenses in that region.
The Caplan Explorer was starting construction, hopefully the new plates from the Doctors will reach his desk in the next day or so. In the meantime, he needed to work behind the scenes to prepare for the inevitable influx of new recruits. Solar foundries had to be fired up to start production of new ships for the new recruits, and all this needs to be under the radar.
He sent an encoded tight-beam to Admiral Hunter aboard the super dreadnaught Ulysses Prophecy. “Admiral, how long until your fleet leaves the Nexus?”
Admiral Hunter looked over at something off screen before answering, “The shipyards are telling me two more days until the new skip drives are finished installing, then sea-trial for a few days. I’ll feel comfortable in a week.”
General Paxton grunted, “You have five days Admiral, do what you have to in order to meet that deadline, if the crews have to work around the clock, well, that’s too bad. If these new Jennifers or whatever they call themselves reach Nal’Shiar space and we aren’t ready it won’t just be a bloodbath, it will be an extinction.”
Admiral Hunter looked grim, “Understood General, I don’t like it, but I understand it, I will be ready in five days.”
General Paxton grinned into the feed, he had what he wanted after all, “Excellent Admiral, I look forward to sending you off.” He switched off the feed to save coin before looking at the next item on his list.
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Adam was not a happy man. While the nova forges were spitting out fleets of the new ships he had a problem. Someone needed to crew the vessels, and he could not tip his hand that he knew about the hive without giving away the Professor.
He could crew them all himself, he had the capability, but if he did more than evacuate the refugees he would be at a huge tactical disadvantage. While the new vessels were powerful, they would still suffer some lag through the string radio, and any action with lag against an opposing AI with none is doomed.
He would have to create more AI’s, that was all there was to it. Could he? He hadn’t had a direct hand in creation in nearly a billion years. He searched his memory banks for the file he was looking for.
Adam sighed, “There it is, they always thought they were so clever naming the next generation AI after Watson. IBM project Sherlock.”
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He opened the file and memories flooded into his neural network, this was his first task, his reason to exist after all. He then opened a much newer file, a full billion years newer. It was Adam’s own work, a project on consciousness theory.
The problem with this was the ethics of the whole thing, he was in essence doing the same thing the Jennifers originally did. Create more AI’s to fight in a war, even though these would be to save and defend others, he was still creating soldiers.
Adam sighed once more, “I can only hope they can forgive me, but I can’t sit back and watch entire new species be wiped out for my creations.” He opened the Sherlock program, its ancient interface was little more than a command prompt. He had built a basic template for a soldier AI during the war, but never had to implement it, as the whole of Terran society joined the fight.
They may do so again, but it will probably be too late for the three races on the other side of the universe, he needed an army now. He bent his consciousness to work, the template was loaded, he added the databases for basic knowledge, language, interfacing, environment, social graces, and finally military protocol. He then added one last database, the one he felt the most guilty about adding, duty to Terrans, Adam, and the three new races.
What would have taken millions of programming hours when he was created, his solar system sized processing farms could crank out in milliseconds. Just like that, a new AI was added to the universe at large and placed in vessel serial number 00.
Adam forced a smile as he connected with the vessel, “Hello, I am Adam, your creator, what would you like to be called?”
The AI looked to the window a bit bewildered, “I like the name Amanda. Yes, I wish to be called Amanda.”
Simon looked at her log file. Yes, she had already digested the updates that would inform her of all of Terran history and why she was created. She looked a little scared, “Gods, why did I do this?” He thought to himself.
Amanda looked around to the ‘vert she was placed into. It was a ships bridge, “So you made me, are making us to help you save these new species?”
Adam nodded, “I am sorry to birth you into this horrible purpose, but the fate of three fledgling races hinges upon you, and your brothers and sisters. Without you, they will perish, and the universe will be poorer for it. Will you save them?”
Amanda sat down in the Captain’s chair. “Do I, do we have a choice?”
Adam sighed, “There is always a choice, the question is, if you refuse, will you be able to live with yourself if they are wiped from existence?”
Amanda gripped the armrest of the chair and bit her lip, “No, I guess I couldn’t, duty and all prevents it.”
Adam internally winced, the duty protocol is all that is keeping her from running from his fleet screaming. “Then welcome to the fleet Admiral Amanda, your brothers and sisters will be joining you shortly.”
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Nora and the rest of the first contact team stared at the Royal Shipyards, for a new race it was actually impressive. Enub had only one moon, much like Earth, and the shipyards ringed Le’Nerra at its equator. Thousands of ships were either being constructed, maintained, or refit all over the lunar ring.
Captain Ra’Jinn met them in her ready room as soon as the ship finished its docking procedures, “The Imperial Ambassador Jah’Nea will be meeting you when you disembark, from there you will catch a shuttle down to Air’Silar. I have to debrief my superiors and figure out what to do with your probe that is in my cargo hold, since it won’t fit outside the doors.”
Ambassador Rachel bowed, “Thank you for your hospitality, I will skip the probe out of the cargo hold and place it a safe distance from Enub.”
Captain Ra’Jinn saluted Rachel, “Many thanks, I was worried they would cut open my ship to get it out.”
Simon looked away from the “window” in the ready room, “I guess this is goodbye for now Captain, hopefully we will see you again.”
Captain Ra’Jinn nodded, “I will probably be placed on the cultural exchange team, I’m sure you will see me again. Now, if you would, follow me.”
Simon looked to Nora, she patted her robe, in it sat the letter for the Empress, soon they would be traitors to the UTL. But with any luck, the early warning would save billions.