The Genie and the Engineer 3: Ravages of War (22 page)

“Steady, Paul,” Merlin advised him. “I suppose, in theory, that
Errabêlu
might have something that powerful, but then why set it up in
the Virginia countryside? Why not just march into DC and take the city away
from us?”

“A good question,” Paul said as he began pacing slowly back
and forth in the room. “Merlin, you know more about magic than the rest of us.
What spell could they have used to take out nine Scotties like that?”

Merlin frowned, lowering the rifle. “Even in my prime, I
couldn’t take out nine wizards in a blink of an eye. And no, I don’t know of
any way it could have done so here either. Oh, sure, I suppose that there are
some theoretical, far out ideas that might account for it. But I couldn’t begin
to guess which one. And they’re just theory and not worth our time discussing
right now. No, we need more information before we start speculating as to
method. But a better idea would be for you to send in overwhelming force. You
can outnumber them ten or even fifty to one.”

“Dad?” Daneel 1 said.

Paul turned and noticed a new Scottie in the room, one who
exhibited the face of an older man with a short salt and pepper boxed beard and
a receding hair line.

“Hello, I am 18 of the Ulysses line,” the new Scottie said,
floating a little closer. “I understand you need information about the Civil
War battles at Bull Run.”

Paul nodded. “A quick summary, if you don’t mind. We don’t
know if the information will be relevant or not.”

Ulysses 18 nodded. “There were two major battles fought
there. In July 1861, the first battle, the one the Union called “First Bull
Run”, was named after the nearby small river that runs through the area. The
South called it First Manassas after the nearest city. It was the first serious
engagement of the Civil War. Union Brigadier General Irvin McDowell, who
commanded 28,000 troops, was pressed into attacking the Confederates by
impatient politicians and influential citizens in Washington DC. On the
Southern side, 32,000 Confederate troops were led by Brigadier Generals P.G.T.
Beauregard, Joseph Johnston, and Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson.”

Ulysses twitched his virtual nose and a typical six foot
wide, three foot tall display formed in mid-air in front of everyone. On the
display, a simplified road map of northern Virginia appeared, Centreville on
the far right, and a hilltop labeled Stony Ridge on the far left. The small
city of Manassas lay near the bottom center.

“McDowell split his forces. 5,000 men went south to attack
here,” two blue parallel lines moved southward from Centreville toward two
blinking red dots near a small river, “at the Mitchell and Blackburn Fords on
the Bull Run. Another brigade drew the attention of the Confederates at Stone
Bridge again on the Bull Run, in the center of the Confederate line. Then two
divisions of Union troops under Brig. Generals Hunter and Heintzelman came down
the Warrentown turnpike and turned northwest to cross Bull Run at Sudley Ford
to attack the Confederate left flank at Matthew Hill, west of Bull Run creek.
Initially, the Confederates, under Brig. General Beauregard, were pushed
southward to Henry Hill. However, Confederate reinforcements arrived, including
a brigade under General “Stonewall” Jackson and two brigades from the
Shenandoah Valley. The Confederates outflanked the Union right at Chinn Ridge
and forced the Union troops to retreat eastward. When the retreat reached the
Bull Run, it turned into a rout. The battle became a rousing Confederate
victory where the Union troops sustained almost twice as many casualties as the
Confederates did.”

Paul nodded. All of this sounded familiar—apparently lessons
he had absorbed and then forgotten in some high school American history class
long ago.

“And the second battle?” he asked.

“Fought in August, 1862. Major General John Pope commanding
62,000 Union troops versus General Robert E. Lee with 50,000 Confederate
troops.” Ulysses 18 twitched his nose again and the airborne map changed,
showing the entire northern half of the state of Virginia. “Union troops had
penetrated further into Virginia, operating down to the Rappahannock River.” A
line of blue appeared on the north bank of the river, halfway between Culpeper
to the south and Manassas to the north. “Lee sent Generals Jackson and A.P.
Hill to the north-northwest, to circle around the Bull Run Mountains and
through the Thoroughfare Gap where they hit the Union rear and the massive
supply depot at Manassas. The Union troops were forced to swing north to
counter-attack. General Jackson lined up his forces along an unfinished
railroad embankment south of Stony Ridge. Union General Pope launched a frontal
attack, convinced that he had Jackson outnumbered. However, another 25,000
Confederate troops under Lt. General Longstreet crossed through the
Thoroughfare Gap and hit the Union left flank, first with massed artillery and
then the largest mass assault of ground troops in the Civil War. Pope never
understood what hit him and the Union army was forced to retreat as far east as
Centreville, almost to ground zero.”

Paul stared at the map, studying the layout of the
territory. With a flick of a finger, he zoomed the map in closer to the
Manassas Battlefield. There he saw the crooked winding paths of Bull Run and
Young’s Branch, the straight east-west stretch of Warrentown Pike, the high
grounds of Henry Hill, Matthews Hill, Chinn and Stony Ridges, and the small
community of Groveton.

The suspicions solidified in his mind.

“It’s a trap,” Paul announced, as sudden realization of the
true situation hit him hard in his gut. “I should have seen it before this.”

“How so?” asked Daneel 7.

“A nice big open section of countryside, mostly empty of
people because it’s a national park, the constant and hefty expenditure of
magical energy, the capture of a platoon of Scotties. It’s all bait for the
trap,” Paul said, for the first time seeing a hint of what
Errabêlu
was
planning. “They want us to attack. That’s why they are doing this in a rural
setting, probably the emptiest section of territory anywhere close to
Washington DC, because they know we wouldn’t attack them if there were a lot of
Normals around that might get hurt.”

Merlin nodded in understanding. “Yes, it most likely is. So?
What do you do about it?”

Paul stared more at the map. “We don’t have very many
options, do we?”

The holographic wizard seemed to consider the question for a
few moments. “You could refuse to take the bait. Just ignore it. Of course,
Errabêlu
would then just move into Washington DC and setup their trap there and endanger
thousands of people, perhaps more, depending on how dangerous this trap of
theirs is. Or, you could send in a few small teams of Scotties, sacrifice them
in a scientific attempt to gather data and determine how the trap is constructed
and how to beat it—”

“That is not funny, Merlin,” Paul stated firmly.

“Or you could potentially lose a lot more Scotties in a
frontal attack,
if
it is a trap and
if
the trap is as deadly as
you fear it might be.” Merlin studied his creator’s sour expression.  “Another
possibility, one I’ve learned from studying your science fiction, you could use
kinetic bombardment from space with tungsten crowbars, I believe the concept is
called.”

Paul squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “I made a pledge
not to kill. And yes, I know, I’ve broken that pledge, on more than one
occasion too. However, if possible, I would still prefer to avoid killing
wherever and whenever I can.”

Merlin nodded. “Or you could just give up on the entire idea
of fighting the other wizards. Just let them keep control of the Normals.”

“Ha! You’re joking, I presume. There
has
to be
another option,” Paul mumbled despairingly. “Some type of deception we could run,
a con-game of some kind. Something.”

Daneel 1 spoke up. “We could ask the wizards we’ve captured,
see if they know anything about this trap, of how it might be rigged.”

“That is worth a try,” Paul admitted, but not really
expecting it to be that easy. “After all, I debriefed McDougall extensively without
a hint of an
Errabêlu
ability to set a trap remotely like this.” He
turned to face Daneel. “Contact Daryl 71, ask him to ask the avatars of all of our
wizard prisoners and report back.” Paul studied the map some more. “And let’s
bring in the Corps and Division Commanders. All of them except those that are
with Mom. If we are going to try a mass assault, I want ours to be a lot more
effective than Brigadier General Irvin McDowell’s or Major General John Pope’s.”

“Dad?” asked Daneel 1. “Do you want me to pass word of this
to Mom?”

Paul considered the question, drawing his mouth into a
straight line and biting his lower lip.

“No,” he finally said. “We’d only succeed in worrying her.
And we don’t know enough to answer any of the questions she will undoubtedly
ask. So no, not yet.”

Ω

The scene inside the Situation Room was hectic, with large
numbers of Scottie cubes floating in and out through the doorways, and others
arriving/leaving via portals. There were any number of conversations on-going
simultaneously, making Paul’s ears hurt from the constant buzz.

The situation in Northern Virginia was bad enough to give
him indigestion too.

The team of Scotties spent the day in discussions about
possible ideas, alternatives, brainstorming concepts and possible attack plans.
Paul even brought Uncle Sam into the discussions. But the truth was that no one
knew enough to make a good plan.

Oh, they tried to gather a little more data, using
microportals in low Earth orbit above Manassas to spy on the Park. But they saw
nothing, the views smudged and clouded, no doubt due to interference by some
magical spell of the
Errabêlu
wizards. All that could be detected were
significant bursts of magical energy most of which seemed to be centered on
Stony Ridge. Apparently, there was a constant coming and going of wizards and
Oni in that location. If
Errabêlu
were grouped mostly around Stony
Ridge, then their battle plan seemed to be leaning more toward the Second
Battle of Manassas rather than the First Battle.

When questioned, the wizard prisoners in Azkaban could tell
them very little, only of a couple of urban legends about a group of wizards a
few hundred years back that had tried to stage a coup on
Errabêlu
leaders. In some mysterious way, the rebels had been quietly dealt with, never
to be heard from again. Thus confirming yet again what Dusha had told Paul in
Moscow.

The headquarters team went back and forth over the little
data they had and the few options they had been given.

“Dad,” said Lenore 86, Commanding officer of I Corps, 2nd Division.
“From where I sit…uh, levitate…there really is only one possible option here.
We attack, in force, with both Corps.”

“I agree, Dad,” echoed Harlie 37, Commanding officer of I
Corps. “I think we all agree that it is a trap and yes, that there is a very
real possibility that some of us might be ensnared by that trap. But sir, they
can’t be expecting to take on fifty thousand of us. Oh, sure, legend has it
that they easily dealt with a small group of wizards—”

“They
have
successfully dealt with nine Scotties,”
interrupted Daneel 7.

“But
Errabêlu
has no clue how many Scotties we can
throw at them,” Harlie 37 insisted. “We haven’t done anything yet that has
revealed how many of us there truly are. They can’t be anticipating an attack
in the numbers we can generate. No matter what their defense is, we can
overwhelm it with sheer numbers.”

“And how many Scotties might get hurt in the process?” Paul
asked sullenly. “It’s bad enough that we’ve lost nine of our number here and
one in Russia. To endanger thousands or tens of thousands is totally reckless.
All of you mean too much to me and to Capie to take that kind of risk.”

“Dad, there is a backup plan for us,” Irona 222 reminded
him. “Before we go into battle, we can update our backup archives so that, if
necessary, we can be restored to a new Scottie frame at a convenient time down
the line, no matter how many of us might be taken out by this trap.”

“I think it boils down to this, Dad,” Roberta 300 said. “If
we attack,
maybe
you risk a few thousand of us, though I think that has
yet to be proven as even a remote possibility. But if we don’t attack, you
guarantee the slavery of humanity for the foreseeable future, as well as World
War III and the deaths of 500 million Normals.”

“Sir…Dad, I believe they’re right. We really have only one
option here,” Daneel 1 said. “We must attack. It is our duty, it is what you
created and programmed us to do. How can we do less than that?”

In his head, Paul knew that they were right, that the risk
was worth the effort. Most of the
Errabêlu
wizards had to be here, in
Virginia, to expend the level of magical energy they were witnessing. The
Scotties were being offered the opportunity to capture virtually the entire
organization in one fell swoop. But Paul’s heart was arguing against the whole
idea.

“‘If killing five people saves ten, it’s a bargain. Is that
your simple logic, Daneel?’” Paul asked, paraphrasing Dr. McCoy from the
Star
Trek
episode “Operation: Annihilate.”

“When it’s the lives of a few thousand Scotties versus
hundreds of millions of Normals, then yes, that is my logic,” Daneel 1 replied.
“Dad, you knew this going in, before you even conceived of the idea of creating
Artificial Intelligences to help wage this war. You can’t deny it. Let us do
our jobs, please, Dad?”

Paul reluctantly nodded in agreement. “I regret I see no
alternatives. If I were Colonel Hogan in
Hogan’s Heroes
…”

The Scotties in the room all chuckled.