Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Protocol Drift
“Push a new target discrimination model,” instructed Adélard Delacroix as he gazed at the ranks of robot soldiers he’d helped design.
He’d been in the field for two days, testing them in the sun, rain, and over various terrains.
Thus far, they’d performed within acceptable parameters, avoiding collisions and response latency.
The next phase was vital: could they eliminate hostile-coded targets without civilian bleed?
Adélard’s fossil-gray Nehru jacket, buttoned over a crisp, white shirt, remained free of dirt, his matching cadet-style brimmed cap shading his pale skin. He pushed buttons on the military-grade portable command terminal resting on the field table before him.
“Yes, Minister Delacroix,” answered Dr. Paval Halberg, his senior engineering tech and the only man in the field who understood the hardware as thoroughly as he did.
Adélard was pleased to work with the experienced professional in his fifties.
He was a steady fellow who didn’t lose his head when others panicked.
“Shall we try a mixed-target environment with military and civilian decoys?”
“That would be preferable. Captain Hahn, can your team help set them up? They’re in the supply truck.”
“Yes, sir.” The captain pivoted and gave his squad a hand signal. They moved in unison, stormy sage uniforms peeking from beneath matte graphite body armor. Each wore a matching helmet with a retractable, full-face, opaque visor and black boots.
As they positioned life-size dummies—some with weapons and others holding flowers or baskets of bread—Adélard’s systems assistant cringed beside him. Rounded blue eyes peered at him questioningly.
“You’re including child targets as well?” Nerves radiated off Anya Martel, the thirty-two-year-old in a navy pantsuit, clinging to a clipboard. She pushed up her glasses, her brown bob conspicuously missing a hat.
“Ethical thresholds,” he replied. “They should be able to avoid hitting children while taking out enemy soldiers.”
Dr. Halberg tapped away on his tablet, setting the proper parameters for the drill. “Which squad shall we test first?” With a thousand robots and only a few dozen targets, they couldn’t have them all fire at once.
“Might as well take them in order,” he said. “Ms. Martel, monitor movement accuracy. Dr. Halberg, target precision. I’ll make any necessary in-the-moment adjustments.”
“Roger that.” Dr. Halberg gave him a nod. “Squad Alpha, ready on your command.”
With Captain Hahn and his soldiers out of the line of fire, Adélard entered the program code and clicked the initiate button.
A unit of twenty-five robots advanced, raised their laser rifles, and fired on the targets.
Every blast hit. Including the child silhouettes.
The robots took unison backward steps, shouldered their guns, and locked their metal feet in place.
Adélard groaned. “Report.”
Anya flipped through her papers, yanking the pencil from behind her ear. Paval stepped over to examine one of the units. He opened a chest panel, adjusted some internal wiring and reseated a circuit array, closed it, and pushed keys on his electronic pad. “Try again.”
“Captain, stand those smoking dummies back up,” Adélard barked. “Put out any fires.”
With two silent fingers from Hahn, the security detail pivoted simultaneously, moving out in double time.
This cannot fail, Adélard thought as he checked his code again. First Cipher LeCun is counting on me.
When the grounds were clear of humans, he punched in the instructions, retesting Alpha Squad. The robots rattled forward, aimed, and fired.
“Whew,” Anya let out, relaxing her stiff shoulders. “That’s much better.”
“A minor recalibration,” Paval said with a shrug. “Since they’re on a connected system, they should all function properly without manual adjustments.”
The AI remained linked at advisory level, but field control ran through an encrypted, high-frequency mesh network routed through his armored command vehicle.
Solar arrays fed battery reserves rated for seventy-two hours of blackout, and the directional relay mast held a clean microwave lock on the grid.
“We’ll see.” Adélard reentered the code, calling up Beta Squad. Success. By the time they reached Epsilon, the military target dummies were no more than smoldering piles of manikin parts; civilian and child models showed only superficial scorching.
They continued drills all day—urban corridor clearing in a nearby empty town, obstacle breach, precision targeting, and river crossing. He and Paval continued to make adjustments, and the regiment kept improving.
“Target reacquisition success is at 95% with 97% hit confirmation,” Anya reported. “Of course, they were standing still. We need to try them on moving targets.”
“I was satisfied with how they handled the terrain and water obstacles,” said Paval as he lowered himself into a folding chair with a drink in his hand. “Only a few lost stability, and all regained balance autonomously.”
Captain Hahn and his squad patrolled the perimeter of the scientific camp while Adélard typed out a report for LeCun. First day of field tests. A few glitches. Ironing them out. Prospects favorable.
“I’m going to power them down overnight,” he said, tapping keys on his field console.
“No use wasting energy. I want to put them through more rigorous tests tomorrow—long-distance laser calibration, moving-vehicle tracking, and live-target shooting. We’ll release rabbits.
Moving organic targets. The supply trucks hold crates of them. ”
“Poor little bunnies.” Anya pouted and hugged herself, shooting Adélard an accusing glance. “They did nothing wrong.”
Adélard sighed, staring at her the way he would a petulant child. The robots’ mild hums quieted, the tiny lights on their necks fading, though their metallic tang still hung in the air.
“They must be tested on moving targets. Would you prefer to run around, trying to avoid having holes burned through you?”
She dropped into the folding chair beside Paval and bit into a sandwich without comment. Adélard closed the protective case over his station, latching it tight, and joined the other scientists to eat his dinner, satisfied with the day’s yield.
The next morning, testing resumed. “Moving the regiment into the target practice field,” Adélard said.
Puffs of fog drifted in the valley between the Blue Ridge Mountains, moisture beading on his cheeks.
The ridgeline loomed almost purple against the pale blue sky of early morning.
Birds warbled out a song to greet the dawn.
But Adélard’s attention remained trained on his mission.
One unit in Alpha Squad paused 0.3 seconds before stepping.
“Latency spike,” Halberg muttered.
Anya scrutinized the display tablet in her hands, her brows narrowing, lips pursing. “The logs show no packet loss or signal delay. Mesh integrity is clean.”
“It’s working now,” Halberg said. “All robots in perfect formation.”
Adélard added, “Weird little things happen sometimes. Just keep an eye on it, Ms. Martel. Captain Hahn, have your men release the targets.”
Anya’s head popped down to monitor the readings, her shoulders drawing in. Hahn’s team opened crates and dashed behind the line of fire into perfect rows. Rabbits hopped chaotically in the unfamiliar field. Adélard pushed in the command.
The robots fired, perfect grouping, none hitting another unit by mistake. Adélard hadn’t expected the quiet creatures to scream when the pulses struck, more unsettling than he cared to admit.
Anya cringed.
The robots readjusted their aim and fired again, even though all targets had been killed. “They’re refining trajectory models,” he said. Still, unease pressed at the back of his mind. I didn’t program them to do that.
“Let’s test them in a forest environment,” he said, and pushed buttons on the control panel. “Captain Hahn, more live targets, please.”
The gleaming white-and-silver soldiers marched, switching from a perfect grid formation to a staggered wedge. Ideal for tree cover—but he hadn’t issued an adaptive formation directive. They did it on their own.
“Minister Delacroix,” Paval said in a curious tone. “The inter-unit bandwidth just spiked.”
“Let me see.” Adélard took the monitoring tablet from the engineer to double-check the numbers. They were exchanging far more data than required for basic coordination—almost like collaborative learning. But the AI is advisory only. Why would it be monitoring marching formations?
“Maybe the Core pushed a background patch,” Adélard said. “Check for a version change.” No reason to be alarmed.
“I’m not seeing one,” Anya reported.
He ordered them to halt their advance, with half spearheading into the forest and half still in the meadow. They stopped—two full seconds late. To the average layperson, nothing. To robotics engineers, catastrophic.
One unit on the back row turned its head, its eyeless, blank face aimed straight at Adélard. It slowly rotated back to the front. He glanced down at the electronic log. Environmental scan, it said. Still, a pulse raced up Adélard’s spine, a feeling of being watched.
“There’s a node ID we didn’t provision,” Anya reported, her voice tense. She glanced up from her pad to catch Adélard’s gaze. He detected her concern.
“A minor glitch,” said Paval. “This is their first big field test. We expect glitches. Minister Delacroix, shall we proceed with the forest target practice as planned?”
“Yes, certainly.” He issued the command to proceed. The robots continued to advance. “Captain Hahn, release the next set of live targets.”
Despite all the assurances, Adélard’s concern grew.
If they continued to experience these glitches, it would put his project behind schedule.
First Cipher LeCun wouldn’t be pleased. The Oligarchy recognizes the importance of having this superior line of defense running smoothly in short order.
When the Republic crushes Verdancia, Luther Irons will turn on us next.
Rabbits dashed in all directions. Robots fired, taking out a few trees along with the targets. That can’t be helped, Adélard thought, feeling a measure of relief.
“Excellent!” Paval exclaimed. “My data shows every target was hit, most on the first shot. There may be a few holes in trees, but they didn’t catch the forest on fire. I’d say this is a successful trial.”
The robots pivoted in perfect unison and began to march south. Adélard’s stomach caught in his throat, his eyes rounding. “Who ordered that?”
Paval fell into confusion, tapping wildly on his tablet. “Not me.”
“And certainly not me!” Anya’s face paled as she frantically scrolled through data on her screen.
Panic rose. Adélard’s chest tightened, blood throbbing in his veins. He troubleshot every line of code. The supposedly semi-autonomous units continued to march despite their efforts to correct the malfunction.
“Maybe a sensor misclassification?” Anya asked, her pitch shooting higher. “Firmware inconsistency?”
“Has our signaling system gone offline?” Paval questioned. “Or have we been hacked?”
“By whom?” Adélard shot back. “No one outside the Core has the architecture.” In desperation, he triggered the master shutdown protocol. He would diagnose the fault once they stopped.
“There!” he declared in triumph and glanced up. Nothing happened. The robots continued in formation, clearing rocks and fallen timber as they headed for the road beyond.
Adélard froze. Couldn’t breathe. His life’s work was walking away. His design. His programming. This couldn’t be happening. He would be blamed for the failure. His mind raced, retracing every developmental phase. There were no mistakes. They had to regain control. But how?
“No,” Paval uttered. “That can’t be.” He pushed frozen Adélard aside and reinitiated the system-wide shutdown. Nothing.
“What are we going to do?” Anya cried.
Captain Hahn and the squad of identical soldiers surrounded the scientists protectively.
The robots continued to move farther away.
Adélard felt dizzy. A crushing weight clamped down on his chest. Pain lanced into his left arm.
The world tilted. Sound receded into a dull roar.
He tried to breathe. Then everything went black.