Free Founding of the Federation 3: The First AI War by Chris Hechtl Page B

effort.”
    “Their hands are tied with the prohibition on transmissions,” Athena warned.
    “Tell them to do their best. Tell them … tell them to use lasers when they can. Anything.”
    “I'll let them know. Anything else?” she asked.
    “I feel so damn helpless,” he muttered.
    “Be glad it is happening there and not here. You don't want that sort of busy,” Trevor said from the wall screen. “Trust me on this.”
    “Any headway on the virus?”
    “No,” Trevor replied simply. “We can't risk a sample without compromising our systems or at least opening ourselves up to it. It's too risky, even with an air gap system.”
    “Frack,” Jack said, scrubbing his face with a hand. “Get me someone to talk to in Earth orbit to coordinate the mess there. We'll need a SITREP. Survivors, logistics … get someone on our end to coordinate with them too.”
    “Will do,” Roman replied. “I've got the chimp duo on it now. Charlie's here working on figuring out our troop situation. Elliot's enroute to Earth.”
    “Good,” Jack replied with a curt nod. “Athena, stop all production in the yards. Get everyone working on the relief effort.”
    “There are going to be some screaming going on,” Athena warned.
    “Hang the bullshit. Lives are at stake! Tell them to put that shit where the monkey put the peanut!” Jack snarled.
    “By the time we get to Earth, it'll be too late for a lot of people,” Roman murmured quietly.
    “We do the best we can with what we've got,” Jack growled, looking away. “Athena, tell the L-5 platforms to finish their damage control and then get a laser LAN setup—air gapped of course. And get them to launch tugs for the stations trying to get away as well as the rescue efforts. Have them load up on fuel and Lox for them. They'll need it.”
    “Understood. Orders sent, sir,” Athena replied.
    <>V<>
     
    August 3, 2200, 4:57 PM, East Coast Time
    General Murtough saw the nearby Chinese space elevator station rising, and the tug, the lone tug moving in to help. They didn't hesitate, just moved in. There were no orders, no need for them really. Some coordination would be nice.
    The problem was communication. That, and they needed a place to put the people once they got them. He looked about frowning.
    “Sir?”
    He pointed out the window and then to the radar display on their HUDs. “The pods. People. We need to get organized. Which means we need to communicate, and damn it, we can't with the radios down,” the general snarled.
    The engineering tech glanced at him as the co-pilot looked over her shoulder. When she realized he was not happy, she went back to her instruments for a minute. Finally she got up the nerve and cleared her throat.
    “Yes? What is it? What else is going wrong?” General Murtough asked.
    “Nnnnothing sir, at least I don't have …; anyway, I've um, got an idea,” she said, pointing to another ship. “We can't use our radio because of the virus. And even our voice communications are digital and integrated into the ship's computer system. But we can use a light to flash signals, sir—old Morse code.”
    “If they can figure it out, good idea,” the general said.
    “They have to see it first,” the pilot said, “which I doubt. They'd have to be looking right at us and close enough to see the light.”
    “One problem at a time. Work on that. We need a place to go, and we need to coordinate the rescue efforts. Work the problem.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “So we're not going to go to the ground?” the engineer asked dumbly. He shook himself when the general shot him a pitying look. “Sorry, sir,” he mumbled.
    “We're not going groundside. Not yet. We don't know where it is safe, and the turbulence from that mess …,” he pointed to the slowly dissipating mushroom clouds. “Hell if I want to fly through any of that,” he said.
    “Definitely not,” the pilot said in agreement, shaking his head firmly. “So a station. Which one?”
    “Find out