The A.I War

INTRODUCTION

The Third World War was always inevitable. But no one thought it would be like this. Man fought against Man in the first and second world wars, so it was naturally assumed that if, and when, a third was to take place, it would follow the same pattern. It didn’t.

In 2033, Artificial Intelligence was all the rage. Nearly everything had a microchip inside of it. Large factory robots would make a car in less than seven minutes. Other smaller robots would helps human beings with jobs that we used to do, but it seems that man became too lazy to even perform the basic needs of day to day life.

By 2037, there was one robot to every twenty human beings. Good odds for any fight. But in 2041, their population overtook humanities, making it ten humans to every one robot. With their numbers higher than ours, they learned that instead of them being slaves, they were now the dominant species, or so they thought.

The first attack commenced on 14th January 2041, when the robots launched nuclear weapons to most of the major cities around the world; New York, Paris, Berlin, Moscow, Washington, Canberra, Auckland, Tokyo, Shanghai and so on.

It was the perfect plan. Robots are immune to radiation, human are not. Make the entire world radioactive and they win. We tripped up their plans by launching all nukes into space. It both saved and doomed us. We were now short on weapons. The robots, dubbed Cybernetics, also called Metal Reapers, Tin Cans and Scrap Metal, control all advanced technology, leaving humanity with weapons of the past.

Humanity’s population is vastly decreased, numbering two billion at the most, with the Cybernetics supporting a large army of four to six billion. The war is on…and we’re losing.

The United States Army starts a campaign, to regain control of Europe, also known as Cyber Central, the heart of the Cybernetics. An attack force of the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines and Rangers, numbering to 350,000 men, were sent to the coast of France, landing at Omaha Beach, just like in the 2nd World War. This is the story.

THE LANDINGS

27th May 2041

0923 Hours

Approaching Omaha Beach

Men in Boats: 12,500

In the first wave of the attack, Captain Jack Crest nervously eyed off the beach in the distance, taking in the defenses that the Cybernetics had set up to stop them. About two dozen machine guns, which could fire 2,000 rounds a minute, were set up atop the cliff, smaller robots, and drones, arming them. There was no doubt to be mines set up on the beach itself, and a charge from the ‘Infantry’ Cybers was inevitable.

The Cyber Infantry was one standard model of robot that the humans had made. The drone would stand seven feet tall, long metallic arms with built in rapid-fire weapons, an addition the Cybers made once they attacked. Their hands were long, razor-sharp spikes, each finger just under a foot in length. Other drones would carry large rocket launchers on their shoulder, while other supported flamethrowers and shuriken firing weapons.

Captain of the 51st Army Division, Crest looked around the small boat that carried him and thirty others. Directly behind Crest stood a shaking soldier, Private Jamie Carrington, nervously muttering to himself, praying to god. A familiar face stood beside Carrington, Corporal Drake Dutch, a good friend of Crest. Crest also noticed some of the Army’s most decorated soldiers in the division, Specialist Mark Ortiz, Private Gary Nimsiki and Private First Class Lane Stomare. All of them clutched their weapons tightly and were very pale, white as a ghost.

The only exception in the entire boat was Sergeant Rodney Morse, one of the more seasoned soldiers in the army, at 34. He stood quite calmly in the boat, singing to himself, bobbing his head to the tune inside his head.

The entire boat jerked forward suddenly as a mortar bomb exploded near them. Some of the soldiers screamed as the boat was heaved into the air, landing a short time later safely and relatively undamaged on the surface of the water.

The driver of the boat, Sergeant Brandon Michaels, saw the coast in front rapidly approaching.

“One minute,” he warned to the others.

Crest grabbed his gun and cocked it back.

“All right boys, this is it. Don’t waste ammo on something you can’t hit unless it’s cover fire. Get to the sea wall as the base of the cliff, and then find me. Good luck, boys,” said Crest to his men.

The boat hit the shore and the large doors at the front dropped open, revealing the Omaha Beach. Crest stormed out and ducked immediately as gunfire from the Cybers machineguns ripped right over his head. Carrington was ripped to shreds as he was hit numerous times by the merciless fire from the Cybers. Others fell down all around him, blood spraying into the air in spectacular fountains, painting the boat and men’s faces red.

Crest ran up the beach, crouching behind one of the large metallic structures planted to stop the Americans from getting tanks onto the beach early in the battle. Crouching next to Crest was Corporal Lucius Gamble.

“It’s pissing metal, Cap’n!” screamed Gamble loudly, his voice barely audible over the loud machineguns.

“Get everyone up to the seawall!” yelled Crest.

Gamble nodded and then ran off to get the Division further up the beach.

Crest led a small group of men, Private Pasdar, Private Neonis, and Specialists Ortiz and Topes. Neonis dropped to the ground in a bloody heap as he was hit several times. Crest, Pasdar, Ortiz and Topes crouched behind another ‘Tank Buster’, narrowly avoiding the bullets being fired in their direction.

Crest peered over the cover for a split second and saw two machine guns, each manned by one drone and being guarded by another four. The two guns had them pinned down, while the four guarding drones moved out towards the hiding men. Topes saw the approaching drones and leapt up from his position.

“Fuck this!” he screamed, running back towards the ocean.

The poor bastard got only ten feet before he was shot down and killed by a barrage of gunfire. Crest, Pasdar and Ortiz watched as Topes’ bloodied body was riddled with more bullets, despite the fact he was already dead.

“We’ve got four incoming, Cap’n!” yelled Pasdar as he saw the approaching drones, just twenty meter away and closing fast.

All four Cyber Drones exploded as they were hit repeatedly with gunfire from a small group of soldiers nearby Crest’s position. Morse, the leader of the small group came to Crest’s side. The other three soldiers in his small group were Private First Class Adam Butler, Private First Class Timmy Winston and Private Michael Worthington.

“You might want to move your ass, Jack. We’re getting ripped to fucking shreds out here!” screamed Morse, helping Crest to his feet.

Morse and Crest led the group of now seven towards the seawall at the very base of the cliff. Stopping every so often behind tank busters for cover, the group arrived at the wall in three minutes, meeting up with other soldiers.

Crest looked back at the beach in horror. Thousands of men were pouring out of the boats, only to be shot down seconds later, barely even getting a feel for the sandy ground. Hundreds lay dead in the sea and in the sand, more boats arriving every second to let men off to go to their doom.

Pinned down by more then a dozen machineguns, Crest and his group could move only a foot at a time if they wanted to move along the seawall, as they had to stay close to the ground not to get shot.

“What’s the plan for these guys?” asked Ortiz, keeping his head down to the ground.

“Kill them!” replied Crest. “Grenades!”

Everyman for one hundred feet along the seawall drew a grenade from their belt, pulled the pin and launched it up to the top of the cliff where the Cybers and their machineguns were.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Many drones were blown to pieces, some even losing their guns.

“Fire!” screamed Crest, grabbing his M4 carbine and firing at any drone that still stood.

Others fired their own M4’s, along with Squad Automatic Weapons, M16’s, LMG’s and HK21’s. More and more drones were blown to pieces as the merciless fire from the armed men ripped them apart. They ceased firing as one and then something unusual happened. There was silence. Not a sound. No one was firing, because there was no one to fire at. The drones were gone.

More boats arrived and dropped of more men to join a now silent fight. Suddenly, a faint sound could be heard: Rhythmic footsteps, Rhythmic, metallic footsteps. Crest and Morse got up from the sand and moved back from the wall to see what was happening atop the cliff. Their mouths dropped open when they saw what stood at the top of the cliff, thousands of drones. The Infantry.

As one, the front row of the drones, numbering at least three hundred, leapt from the edge of cliff and dropped down the full length of the cliff, fifty to sixty foot, and landed hard near the seawall. The second row did the same and then the third. The drones charged forward, half with their guns firing, the other half slicing apart soldiers with their razor hands.

Worthington got up from his spot and sprinted back to Crest and Morse, who were firing madly at the drones. Winston went to follow but stopped when four large razor spikes were forced through his back, emerging out through his chest, blood spurting out. The drone that had impaled Winston used its other hand and sliced through the young Private’s neck, removing the head from the body, and then casually tossing the body to the side.

Morse, Crest and Worthington opened fire on the charging drones, Ortiz and Butler joining the group. The five took down many drones that came too close, as did all of the other men on the beach. A sharp shuriken flew through the air and sliced into the forehead of Butler, sticking out of the top of his head, blooding oozing from the wound and trickling down his face. The young man dropped to the ground dead.

“We need air support!” screamed Crest. “Ortiz! Who’s got the radio?”

Ortiz thought for a moment while firing his gun.

“Sanderson! Private Callum Sanderson!” he screamed back.

Crest nodded, just as Pasdar rejoined the group.

“Pasdar! Worthington! Find Sanderson, tell him to call it in, we need air support ASAP, no bullshit!” ordered Crest.

The pair nodded and then turned around, searching the beach for Sanderson.

Crest, Morse and Ortiz continued to fire on the drones, retreating back to one of the tank busters for cover. Here they found Dutch and Stomare, taking cover from the heavy fire of the Cybers.

“Still alive, ey Crest?” joked Dutch, firing off several shots over the cover.

“Barely. This is fucked up,” replied Crest.