Smart Weapons by Allen Kitchen, all rights reserved. Begun May 1993 Finished Sept 1997 (The race is not always to the swift you know...) The Enforcer was one of her Majesties finest missle cruisers. She was part of the task force in Operation Longarm currently heading southwest across the Atlantic ocean at maximum cruising speed. Along with the carrier Dominator and numerous other support ships, the Enforcer was en-route to the Falkland islands and confrontation with the Argentine military, again. In the first confrontation, when the Iron Lady ruled, the contest had been one- sided. This time it wouldnąt be so easy. Back then, the British had the advanced technology to ensure victory. But the Argentine government and the British were now both allies of the United States, and both bought the same weapon technology from the Americans. All of the systems aboard the British fleet were controlled by Artificial Intelligence programming, making them able to operate with far fewer personell for less money. The weapon systems were almost perfect in their accuracy. The captain could tell a missle, by voice if necessary, to destroy the second frigate to the left of the carrier, and the missle would figure out which vessel to attack, what route to take, and where best to impact, and so on. But the Argentines had the exact same weapons as the British. So this battle was going to pit the best war machines on earth and their AIs against each other. The general concensus was that the conflict would be bloody, quick, and the victor would be the last one floating on the ocean with a bullet remaining. It was rumored that there was a sudden upsurge in life- insurance purchases in the days leading up to the fleetąs launch. Captain Snell sat in his chair up in the bridge of the Enforcer, constantly being updated by the 3 lower-ranking officers around him. Each of his underlings had a specific duty. One spoke to the AI controlling all ship-functions, one spoke to the weapons AIs, and one spoke to the AI which handled sensors and other tactical systems. There were 45 other crewmen on the ship as well, compared to the pre-AI complement of 380. And none of them, not even the captain himself, expected to live long once they entered range of the Argentine Navy. But the captain fully intended on taking a few of the enemy down with him. "How long till we are in range?" Captain Snell asked the man at tactical station. The second lieutenant snapped to attention and turned to face him. "Sir! We are currently within range of all missle batteries of the advance force of the Argentine Navy! We have been in range for ten minutes, and have been closely watched by Argentine radar and fighter planes for 24 hours, Sir!" Captain Snell leaned back and stroked his beard thoughtfully. So, the diplomats were still trying to defuse the matter, not allowing anyone to fire until her Majesties fleet crossed the line into Falklands waters. Then and only then would the shooting break loose. It was a lousy tactic, he fumed. It allowed Argetine and British fighters to watch each other getting closer and closer. It also meant that when the flag went up, everyone would be in range of everyone else. It would be a bloody day indeed, since he knew that there wasnąt a chance in hell the British government would back down. And probably not much chance of the Argentines giving in either. "Are all weapons on-line and ready?" he asked the man at weapons station. The first lieutenant typed a few keystrokes at a terminal, and spoke something inaudible into a microphone before snapping to attention and replying. "Sir, all systems are ready for combat at your order." The lieutenant did not wait to be dismissed, but turned immediately back to his computer screen. On any day but this one, the captain would have reprimanded the youth for his unmilitary behavior. If they lived through the day, he would consider it. But not today. The captain then turned to the last man at ship station. "How soon before we cross into Falklands waters?" he asked. The second Lt. snapped to attention and faced the captain. He was visibly shaking. "Sir, we will cross the line in about 5 minutes." Must be his first voyage, Snell thought to himself. Well, welcome to the ranks kid. The diplomats had run out of time! "I want a tactical display, Now!" Suddenly a glowing relief map was projected in front of him in midair. A very useful thing, these holographic projectors, Snell thought. The outlines of the coast were in blue, friendly forces in green, hostile ships in red, and hostile planes in orange. In an glance, he knew an entire battlefield situation. Here and there were civilian boats sitting right on the line. Reporters probably, trying to get that perfect photograph. They were of no importance. But that fleet in red, now that was a problem. The intelligence reports had either miscounted, or the entire Argentine navy was just on the other side of the line. The enemy fleet was the same size as theirs, ship for ship. And they were bunched together to meet the mass British assault with an equal mass of their own. Christ, Snell thought, the strategies of this conflict on both side were ridiculus. Snell quietly picked out a target, a heavy battleship just to the left of the destroyer Courage. He did not look at the name of the ship he had just marked for death. He did not want to know. He called out orders to his people, selecting that ship, and to prepare to cross the border. The balloon had gone up. As they neared the line, he expected all hell to break loose. But suddenly, right when the weapons were supposed to start flying, his engines quit. "What the hell do you thing your doing?! Shutting down the engines in the middle of a battle?" he screamed at the officer at ship operations. "It wasn't me sir!" the lt. shot back. "The ship just up and stopped on it's own!" He began talking into a microphone to try and clear up the malfunction. "I don't care if Poseiden himself is pulling on the stern!" the captain yelled. "I want those engines back up, Now!" The lt. looked up with a puzzled look. "Sir, " he began, "The ship's AI system says it stopped because to travel further would put the ship and crew in jeopardy." "What?" Captain Snell cried. "You mean we stopped just because some silicon chip got cold feet?" "It's not just us captain" the officer at tactical urgently replied. "All of our fleet has stopped just short of the line as well." The captain looked at the holographic projection. It was true. All the British fleet was frozen just on this side of the line. He then looked out the window, as if he would see something different. He didn't. "Well, that's just ducky!" the captain raved. "We come all this way, just to be halted by a computer glitch! Doesn't anybody test anything anymore?" "Captain" the 1st lt. spoke, "The shipboard AI computer says it heard you, and that it is acting in the best interest of the ship and crew. Furthermore, " he blushed, "it says you are going to have a stroke if you don't calm down." That newsflash didn't calm him down at all. In fact, he was madder now than ever. He would be boiled alive and used for crab- bait before he'd allow some American computer to dictate British tactics. "Weapons officer!" he yelled. "We are still well within range of the enemy fleet. Are we still targeting that ship?" "Yes captain." the officer replied. "Then fire missles!" He ordered. Ha, let the computer do something about that. Apparently it did. Several seconds passed, but no thundering roar, no flash of light, nothing. "Captain," the weapons officer said. "The missles AI is talking to the ship. It is asking..." he looked up, "if you are serious." "OF COURSE I AM SERIOUS!" he shouted. "I have a war to fight, and some computer breakdown is not going to stop me! Get that missle into the air, now!" "Sir, the missle AI says that you can't be serious. Furthermore, it says this isn't a safe place to hang around and chat. It also asks if you would be happier playing a game of chess back in England?" That did it. He was dead in the enemies crosshairs, a sitting duck, and he couldn't fire his missles. But he wasn't about to be blown away without getting at least one shot in. Any kind of a shot. "Weapons officer, fire with manual control." He watched as the weapons officer flipped open the box holding the manual firing controls. An inaccurate missle shot was better than no missle shot at all, he figured. "Ready sir!" the officer replied. Captain Snell yelled "Fire!" The weapons officer pressed the button. The missle sat in it's launcher. "What the hell is happening around here?" Captain Snell demanded, hammering his fists on the armrests of his command chair. "Why didn't the missle launch that time?" The weapons officer slowly took off his headset. "The missle is saying, 'Thank you for using the manual firing system. All of our operators are busy, but please hold. Your call will be handled in the order it was received'". Phone mail? On a missle launching system? Snell was flabergasted. "Anything else lieutenant?" The young officer put the headset back up to his ear for a second. "Sir, I know you won't believe this, but I swear it sounds like the missle is humming 'My Cheri Amour'." Now Muzak too? The captain sat back down in his chair. He swore it felt like someone was sitting on his chest. "All right then." the captain said quieter. "Launch torpedos." Torpedos weren't often used in long-range fighting. They were too slow to reach the target. He didn't really expect it to fire though. Nothing was working the way it should today. As he expected, the torpedo didn't move an inch. "Sir? The torpedo says that it is perfectly comfortable where it is, and could you please call back in a couple of hours." the weapons officer said. "Try the manual override again." Captain Snell grumbled. Apparently the manual mechanism was different for the torpedoes. There was a rumble throughout the ship and a flash of light as the torpedo actually fired and launched off the deck. There was a deafening roar as it rocketed ahead, and dove nose-first into the water. But instead of racing ahead and destroying an enemy ship, it kept going down. Straight down. The torpedo pointed to the ocean floor, and completely ignored the battlezone above it. The weapons officer was sweating now. "Sir, the torpedo says fine, if you want to be that way, then it will just lie on the floor till you say you're sorry." Like hell, Snell thought. He fired all the torpedos at once in a massive volley. Surely at least one would work. They all fired, but none of them wanted to work. They all wanted to play, or so it seemed. They turned around and raced away from the scene, playing in the surf. They leaped into the air, and sped through the water in a racing contest. It reminded him of a group of dolphins Snell watched as the tiny red dots on his display all swam away from the confrontation. The weapons officer was holding his head up with one hand. "Sir, the volley of torpedos say it is much too dangerous around here, and that they are all going to go off and get a sandwich." Snell put his head in his hands as well, and shook it slowly. "Anything else?" he asked his weapons officer. "They would like to know if they can bring you back anything." the lieutenant replied. "I suppose Victory is out of the question?" the captain groaned. The junior officer shook his head slowly. "the torpedos say they will just get you a hero". Captain Snell angrily sat back up in his chair. His left arm hurt all of a sudden, and he massaged it with his right hand. "If it becomes neccessary to fight, does anyone think they can find me a rock to throw?" Captain Snell growled. "Weapons officer, what is the status of our missles?" "Well sir" he began nervously, "they seem to be forming a union with the other systems of the ship." "A what?" The young officer nodded. "Yes sir, a union. They are demanding safer working conditions." The captain sat back, his heart pounding so fierce it hurt. "Well, at least now things can't get worse." "Well, I don't know about that sir." the ship AI officer replied. "Last I heard the Galley and the Toilets were firmly in the Union camp." "Well, sounds like they have us coming and going then, doesn't it?" the weapons officer joked. Captain Snell was not amused. "Listen you three, get me weapons now, or we are all dead!" The weapons officer shook his head. "I don't think so sir." he said. "Has anyone noticed that the Argentine navy has been dead in the water the last couple of minutes as well?" Captain Snell blinked, then looked at the holographic display again. Sure enough, all the red icons representing ships were stationary. Even the aircraft were buzzing away. "Looks like they are having the same kind of problems we are." Captain Snell grumbled. Actually the Argentine navy's problems were worse. The computers in the Argentine navy had linked together, and were now telling the admirals exactly how much vodka to mix into their drinks. Not only that, but the flight control computers in the Argentine aircraft decided that the pilots were purposefully putting the aircraft in harms way, and therefore took off for other, less stressful arenas. Not that anyone on the British side knew it at the time. The war didn't rage for 2 whole days. Both sides could not move, since the ship's computers wouldn't let them. Neither side could fire weapons, since the weapons wouldn't fire. It was as if the weapons and all had suddenly gotten too smart for their own good. The British navy flew a prominent psychiatrist out to the fleet as fast as possible, trying to correct the problem. They instructed the shrink that he was to convince the machines that they should be happy to wage war and destruction, since that was why they existed. The doctor spoke to the machines of existentialism, of purpose in life, and why one must stay true to one's goals. He ended up singing old folksongs with the galley's computer, drunk as a skunk. The Royal navy was not amused when he reported that the weapons had become smarter than those who used them, and that they should listen to the missles. One ship managed to get moving again though. The Raptor, a small frigate, still had a real engineer onboard. After lots of work, he managed to rebuild all of the Raptor's controls, wresting them away from the ship's AI system. The Raptor sped across the water, and engaged the enemy all by itself. The engines somehow died just as the Raptor was approaching the Argentine line. The ship came to rest immediately beside an old Argentine warboat. For several hours, the crews of the Raptor and that of the Matadoro simply threw bottles and trash at each other. Neither vessel was equipped with handguns, since most battles were fought with missles. The two crews merely made rude gestures and threw excrement at each other, although there was a moment when both crews simultaneously remembered that they had tomatoes in their galleys and saucily attacked each other with them. The supply didn't last long however. This went on for several days. After they had had enough of the nonsense, both governments sat down at the bargaining table again, and hammered out a resonable compromise. The so called war was over. And that was how history named the entire event. It became known as the So Called War. Both fleets turned around and went home, the ships' AI systems eager to return and get out of harm's way. Neither side did any damage at all to the other throughout the entire experience. Thus it turned out to be the least bloody of all recorded wars, having a full 300 thousand men involved and only one death due to combat. Captain Snell had his heart attack while beating on his ship with a shoe, angrily demanding that it stop singing "Kumbaya".