Hammerhead Resurrection (8 page)

Delaney asked Cantwell, “When could the Hammerheads be ready?”

Cantwell looked to Jeffrey, who said, “We have an acceptable list of pilots. The physical modifications will take a few days. The pilots already know how to fly, but we’ll need to acclimatize them to their new limits. Depending on individual circumstances, that could take a few weeks, or a few months.” He looked to Cantwell, “It’s been fifty years since those modifications were applied to living subjects. None of the scientists who did the work can still be alive.”

“None,” Cantwell said. “However, I have a skilled team researching their academic papers and procedures now.”

Jeffrey nodded as he said, “So we need to assemble the pilots on the list. That will also take time.”

“They’re already here on the Lacedaemon,” Cantwell said in a somewhat apologetic tone.

“The list you gave me wasn’t for selection.”

Cantwell shrugged. “No. Those are the pilots you’ll be working with.”

Jeffrey held his hands up in supplication to the inevitable, “Well, if they’re even close to what I see in their dossiers, you chose well. I should get started right away.”

“But that still doesn’t leave us with an immediate option should the,” Delaney looked to Schodt, whose scowl deepened, and offered him a smile, “…Exteris Ignotum move in on us.”

A man wearing the four gold bars of a captain, who’d been standing several paces behind Cantwell, stepped forward. “Ma’am, if I may interrupt.” He stood at an average height, had an average build, and looked at Delaney with dark-set eyes under a heavy brow. Jeffrey thought he saw faint frustration in the look Cantwell gave the captain.

Cantwell said, “Madam vice-president, this is Captain Donovan, my second for this operation and captain of the U.S.S. Lacedaemon.” He said to Donovan, “speak freely captain.”

Donavan clasped his hands behind his back as he said, “For now I believe we should rely on our drones. They are highly developed, well-tested, and have been in service for several years.”

Hearing the word
drone
did not sit well with Jeffrey. He asked the captain, “Automated or piloted from a remote location?”

Donovan’s expression hardened, as though Jeffrey had broken a ceiling of decorum by addressing him. “We have both. Our self-directed AI is particularly excellent. In dog fight trials, they’ve consistently outperformed human opponents. They anticipate effectively and have no G limitations save those of the spacecraft.” Donovan fell silent, seeming to invite Jeffrey to agree with him.

Jeffrey said, “Forgive me for saying so, but I’m of the opinion that the Sthenos will obliterate your AI hardware.”

Schodt pinched the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses.

Vice President Delaney scowled but asked with simple curiosity, “Why do you feel that way Captain Holt?”

“AI is good,” Jeffrey said, “but beyond its basic programming, it must learn to be effective in new situations. There are two key learning methods I am aware of, the first being trial and error. When we try something, if we fail, we try something else. It’s linked to classical conditioning, which is fine in most cases, but in fighter combat, failure equals death—or in this case, destruction—and a destroyed AI system can’t learn.”

Donovan said, “The AI systems learn from others’ failures. They can capitalize on the loss of another unit.”

Jeffrey nodded. “That’s good, a nice addition, but it won’t be enough, not if the systems are like what I’ve seen in the past.”

“I think,” Donovan said, “you’ll find our systems much more advanced than
when
you served.” A finality in the
when
gave Jeffrey a clear message. Donovan didn’t perceive him as military, just an old man who’d done a few years long ago.

Jeffrey let the slight go as he asked, “Do they think abstractly?”

Donovan remained silent.

Delaney asked, “What is your meaning Captain Holt?”

“Artificial Intelligence doesn’t typically run at what one would consider the highest levels of intelligence, not fifty years ago anyway. I’m simply curious what level of intelligence these new systems possess.”

With clear irritation, Donovan said, “The intelligence is—”

“Creative?” Jeffrey asked.

Donovan’s eyes narrowed. “Not creative. Not yet.”

“Captain Donovan,” Jeffrey said, “it’s not my intention to tear down your work, but I have to base my opinions on my experience and—”

“Excuse me,” Delaney said, “in less than an hour I need to offer my recommendations to the president. I either need to understand the relevance of this conversation or have it end so we can move forward.”

Jeffrey was taken somewhat aback by Delaney’s directness, but she’d not shown anger, simply stated a truth.

He said, “A moment longer and you’ll see the importance, I hope. Basic analytical intelligence, the ability to discern from possible outcomes and learn from a set of trial and error situations, is not creative intelligence. An illustration of this comes from an experiment done with birds. A cup filled with seeds is set on a string and lowered into a hole. A bird with low intelligence might stuff its head into the hole, fail to reach the seed, and move on. A bit more intelligence would allow the bird to realize pulling on the string would bring the cup closer. However, one pull would not be enough to reach it. When the bird lets the string go, it falls back down the hole. The bird still goes without. An intelligent bird, say a seagull, might pull on the string—trial—realize it cannot reach the seed—error—and look back over the situation. Then the bird might lift the
string, step on it, and pull again, successfully lifting the cup out of the hole.”

Crossing her arms as though impatient, Delaney said, “I don’t see what a seagull getting seed has to do with drones.”

“It has everything to do with AI. The trial and error intelligence the seagull illustrated is not the highest level,” Jeffrey said. “Creative Intelligence goes one step further, which is solving problems outside the boundaries of available information. A raven has this. Ravens tested in this way look over the situation, pull the cup up, and without hesitation, step on the rope.”

In an irritated tone, Donovan asked, “How is that any different than the seagull?”

“It’s a slight but critical difference. The seagull had to hit failure before realizing the situation needed another approach. The raven was able to see the failure abstractly,” Jeffrey tapped his temple, “and create a solution in its mind, skipping the step of experimentation.”

Donovan asked, “What does this have to do with AI-s versus living pilots?”

“One key trait we look for in Hammerheads is creative intelligence—fast, abstract problem solving. Quick reflexes and massive G-tolerance will do nothing against the Sthenos’ main talent, which is attacking with relentlessly changing tactics. They never give lesser pilots, AI, etc., a chance to learn. An average pilot will repeat successful tactics, which the Sthenos will avoid or exploit. They do not repeat patterns no matter if they are succeeding or failing.” Jeffrey sighed and said, “I sincerely don’t disagree for disagreement’s sake, sir, but I wasn’t brought here to say what people want to hear.”

“Well,” Donovan said, “disagree if you must, but we have no other options until your epic Hammerheads are ready to fly.”

“Easy Donovan,” Cantwell said.

Donovan looked to the admiral, and his expression constricted. With a slight lift of his chin, he said, “Yes, sir.”
Delaney asked Jeffrey, “You don’t disagree with human piloted remote drones?”

“Not exactly,” Jeffrey said. “With the right pilots, they’re a better option than AI drones and can save lives—but therein lies the problem.”

Donovan’s eyebrow lifted, and Jeffrey felt him wanting to cut in, but to his credit, he remained silent.

Jeffrey said, “To give his or her best, a pilot has to have everything on the line, be totally committed.”

Now Donovan did cut in, “The remote drone pilots are some of the best pilots in the—”

“It’s not about best and worst,” Jeffrey said, finally allowing some exasperation to show in his tone. “It’s about alive and dead. Combat pilots in the seat know if they don’t give their all, they’ll die, or someone with them will. I can have a good feeling about a pilot and make a guess at how he or she will respond, but I’ll never know what that person is made of until people start dying. That’s when we find the hardcore—those who can perform even in the face of death. Training can’t do that. No matter how intense the exercise, in the back of a trainee’s mind he or she knows if things go really bad, the exercise ceases and medics come in.”

“And how does that effect our drone pilots?” Delany asked.

“They’ll never be at risk, not directly. In combat, they’ll know if their ship’s destroyed another will be assigned.”

Delaney had her eyes on the floor as she said absently, “Interesting…”

Captain Donovan said, “Vice president, I—”

She held up a finger. After a moment, she asked, “What value does lack of fear play? I would imagine fear inhibits performance, and a lack of it could be a benefit.”

Jeffrey nodded, saying, “In certain situations, that’s true, but these aren’t office workers. The average person will be shut down by fear, but the average person wouldn’t be able to face the Sthenos. To take down something that vicious, one needs obsessively competitive people so driven to be the best they would rather die than capitulate. Only those
obsessives will be able to stand a chance. Again, we cannot truly know who they are until we put them fully in harm’s way. Also, there is another issue…”

Donovan rolled his eyes as the vice president asked, “Which would be?”

“Their physical separation from the machine creates… problems.”

“We have a system,” Donovan said, “that lets them feel as though they are in the craft—”

“It isn’t enough. It goes beyond visual clues, beyond gauges. It’s…” Jeffrey thought for a moment before saying, “…harmonics. To fly right, a pilot has to be able to connect with the machine. A good pilot can feel if a nuclear drive has an imbalanced injector or a slightly misaligned drive plate.”

Donovan said, “That’s all well and good, but the systems we have in place are proven to work.”

Jeffrey didn’t enjoy poking holes in Donovan’s work but knew that holding back to protect feelings could get hundreds, if not thousands, killed. “There’s another problem.”

Donovan let out an exasperated breath. “Which is?”

“Distance. At times, those ships will be several thousand miles away from their pilots. The milliseconds it takes for visuals to get back and commands to get to the drones is too much.”

“I can’t believe milliseconds would make that big of an impact.”

“I’m going to make a believer of you on this one,” Jeffrey said and motioned for one of the Marines standing behind the vice president to come forward.

Delaney scowled but motioned for the Marine to do as Jeffrey asked.

Jeffrey indicated the Marine should face him. “Fifty years ago the Hammerheads were subjected to modifications with two key ends: increased G-force tolerance and reaction time. The purpose of the G-force mods is clear, but the reaction time is even more critical. The difference between winning and losing a dogfight can happen in milliseconds.”

Jeffrey patted the Marine, who stood a few inches shorter, at perhaps six-foot-three, on the shoulder.

Jeffrey asked, “Your background is in hand-to-hand combat?”

“Yes sir, among other things. I specialized in VIP protection after basic training.”

“So you’d say you’re at a pretty high level when it comes to striking.”

His tone stoic, the Marine said, “Yes, sir.”

Jeffrey held out his hand. “Hit my hand. Just tap it.”

“Yes, sir.” Stepping back into a casual boxing stance, the Marine flicked his lead fist out in a blur, touching Jeffrey’s hand with a light slap.

“Again.”

The Marine’s fist fired. Tap.

Another position. “Again.”

Tap.

“He’s very fast, don’t you think?” Jeffrey asked Delaney, who nodded her agreement, her expression somewhat bored.

“Human nerves carry impulses about 30 to 100 meters per second. This means, in the short distance from eyes to brain and then to muscles, targeting a punch only takes a fraction of a second, but as people train at skills, the pathways they use for those skills become more efficient. As we use pathways in the brain, myelin wraps those pathways, increasing efficiency as much as one hundred times. There’s a big difference between one hundred meters per second and 10,000 meters per second. But that applies to the brain. The rest of the nerve structure stays fairly slow even as we train. The increase in speed is developed in the brain. One of the key modifications beyond vascular strengthening to the Hammerheads is corporeal nerve enhancement. Nanites lace graphene into the nerve structure. The inefficient nerve no longer carries the signal, the graphene does. Graphene is an excellent conductor, so electrical impulses move along it at close to the speed of light. The impulse is slightly slowed over synapses and so on.” Jeffrey touched his arm.
“My nerve fibers translate messages not at the highest human capacity of 100 meters per second, but at nearly 300 million meters per second.” That means, while I am much older, I can see his strikes and process and deliver a reaction far faster. By the time his hand is one-quarter of the way to my face, I have processed the strike and am adjusting.”