Aliens 2035

Chapter 3-1

3

Littoral Class Shipyard

Marinette, Wisconsin

October 22nd 2032

Nick Moore relished standing on Marinette’s navy pier looking out over Lake Michigan, especially in the early evening when the setting sun turned the water iron gray with a touch of bluing like a well-oiled shotgun. He loved the open sky with seagulls squalling overhead, the acrid smell of diesel fuel mixed with seaweed and lake water. But mostly he loved to watch the ships he built take shape until they floated like castles on the water, impregnable fortresses of steel and crystal aluminum. Each one could travel for two years without refueling or taking on supplies, if necessary.

He turned to the visitor beside him and said, “Admiral, the 21st century littoral ships are like the old World War II PT Boats, only on steroids. Faster, stealthier, more agile, more fire power. Each has the standard armaments you requested, including four Mark 110 57mm guns and two batteries of RIM-116 Rolling Airframe Missiles. The Nautilus is also equipped with autonomous air, surface and underwater armored and armed vehicles, sir. With the deep learning programs in control, they network together seamlessly and are capable of defeating any asymmetric threat in our coastal waters.” Moore grinned. “They can stop any threat a terrorist organization can throw at a U.S. port.”

Rear Admiral Jason Stillwater’s leathery, seamed face had not wavered from its usual stern visage while listening to Moore’s enthusiastic report. He was the U.S. Navy’s Chief of Research for littoral or coastal water ships. Nothing got off the drafting board without his approval. And nothing left the docks without his personal inspection. The a dmiral looked up from the design to the actual ship, the Freedom Class USS Nautilus. It rocked easily against the pier, a thousand tons and less than half a football field long. Its aft deck was wide enough that two of the old-style Black Hawk helicopters could land at the same time.

Stillwater’s gray eyes bored into Moore. “You changed some of the design elements without my personal okay, son. You going to stake my career and the lives of my men on your hubris?”

Nick took the criticism in stride. He suspected the technical alterations the Admiral objected to have passed the old man by like they had for so many people his age. Staying current with the daily advances in military Smart Technology was practically a full time job. The Admiral was merely covering his ass, and looking out for the men under his command. Standard operating procedure for the military. He lost his grin to match the Admiral’s stolid manner and said with equal forthrightness, “With all due respect, sir, those design changes were necessary or else the ship wasn’t going to work the way you wanted it to. The Nautilus won’t let any crew down if they don’t let her down.”

Stillwater shifted his feet. “Take it easy, son. It’s my job to make sure no contractor sells me or the U.S. Navy a pig in a poke.”

“And it’s my job to make sure no one disses my ship. You treat her well, she’ll bring the crew back home every time. Isn’t that the Navy’s motto – look out for the man on either side of you and never leave anyone behind.” The irony in that motto was that the ships, like many others in the Navy, would soon be self-operating, controlled by deep learning machines acting in concert with each other.

The two men, a generation apart, glared at each other. And yet beneath their hard-nosed exteriors lay a demand for excellence that connected them. Finally the Admiral smiled and stuck out a beefy hand. “All right, Mr. Moore, I graduated from Cal Tech before joining the navy thirty-six years ago. I agree to these changes, even if I don’t fully understand why you made them. But next time, please give me the courtesy of checking with me first.”

Nick took the hand and shook it hard. “Thank you, sir, I will. And it’s Dr. Moore. I graduated MIT class of 2011.”