War with the Robots

With his defense taken care of he turned his attention to the war. Operations were proceeding so smoothly that the knot of tension in his midriff softened a bit. Lights flickered across the control boards, coded symbols for logistics and intelligence. The operators collated and questioned, feeding their results to Command Prime where General Natia sat relaxed yet completely alert. The electronic war of course moved at too great a pace for the human mind to follow. All of the missiles, anti-missile missiles, interceptors, bombers and tank squadrons were robot-controlled and — operated. Computors of varying degrees of intelligence and responsibility did the actual battle ordering. The same was true of logistics. But men had started this war and guided it towards its finish. The human operators made sense of the shifting factors in the global battle and chose the best course from among those fed to them by the strategy machines. The war had been going well Analysis of the results showed a small increment of victory during the past nine months. If this increment could be kept steady — or even increased — another generation or two might see complete victory. It was a pleasant, though slightly disconcerting, thought for Pere.

Five shifts later the first of the thermal-wrigglers was found and neutralized. Pere examined it with distaste. So small to be causing so much trouble. They were all wearing tropical kit now, and constantly uncomfortable in the overheated air. The only external difference between this wriggler and the wave generators was in the color of its plastic body; the new one was an appropriately fiery red.

"How does it generate the heat?" Pere asked the command robot.

"The machine contains a suicide circuit. The power supply is short circuited through a contractile field. The circuits burn out in microseconds, but there is enough time to compress a small quantity of hydrogen —"

"It implodes! A small hydrogen bomb?"

"In a sense, yes. There is very little radiation, most of the energy is released as heat. A molten pocket of lava is the result. The heat dissipates slowly into our base here. New implosions add constantly to the molten area outside."

"Can’t you detect and destroy these things before they detonate?"

"This is difficult because of the large number of them involved and the volume of earth that must be inspected. Special machines and detectors are being constructed. An extrapolation has been made of all the factors, and it is estimated with a ninety-nine percent certainty that the heat will not rise to the point where it interferes with the operation of the base."

This was one load of worry that Pere could cheerfully throw aside: the constant heat was a continual source of discomfort to them all. He wondered idly just how hot it would get before the temperature started back down.

"What is your estimate of this maximum temperature?" he asked.

"Five hundred degrees," the robot said with mechanical imperturbability.

Pere stared into the blank eye cells of the machine and had the sensation of being suddenly hammered down and gasping for air. "Why — that’s five times higher than the boiling temperature of water!"

"That is correct. Water boils at one hundred degrees."

Pere could only choke with unbelief. "Do you realize what you are saying? What do you think people are… How can we live?"

The robot did not answer since this problem was not the responsibility of the HQ robots. Pere chewed his lip and rephrased it.

"This temperature is unsatisfactory for the personnel — even if the machines can survive it. You must find some way to lower the temperature."

"This problem has already been considered, since a number of the more delicate components will be near their critical range at that temperature. The air conditioning units are now operating at maximum overload and no new units can be added. Therefore drilling operations have begun and are tapping nearby deposits of water, which will be substituted for air within the base. This water will enter at a lower temperature and will have a greater heat transfer capacity."

A compromise, not a perfect answer, but it might work for awhile. One room would have to be sealed off for living quarters and the watch officers could wear pressure suits. Uncomfortable but not impossible.

"What will be the maximum temperature of this water?" he asked.

"One hundred and forty degrees. There is adequate water to bring the temperature lower, but this base was not designed for easy circulation of anything other than air. All machine units are of battle standard and waterproof —"

"People aren’t!" Pere shouted, forgetting himself. "And if they were they would cook in this boiling soup of yours. How are we to survive, tell me that?"

Once more the oracle was silent. In the distance there was the sudden gush and spatter of water.

"What’s that?" he gasped.

"Flooding. The lower levels," the robot said.