A Pale Dawn

by Chris Kennedy

  Manufactory #3 was finishing up a run of combat drones. The production schedule showed it would transition to missile manufacture. He checked the inventory and found the various magazines throughout the system contained 39,500 missiles. More missiles were always better; however, the new tech might be even better than having a few more shots.

  Using his authority, Sato reassigned Manufactory #3. His authority to move supplies and ordnance was now extremely limited, thanks to his admittedly ill-advised expedition to the Keesius. However, the manufactories possessed their own materials’ priorities, and Sato’s authority to manage the manufactories was unchanged.

  The manufactory evaluated Sato’s new design with its efficient, if simple, AI to decide what components it would need. Sato knew there were titanic manufactories elsewhere in the galaxy capable of making machines as big as starships, complete from the hulls down to the tiniest components. But none of the Winged Hussars’ manufactories were that capable. However, when working together, they could accomplish the same task.

  His orders set about a chain of events involving two other manufactories. Much of the components could be drawn from stores, including ancient ones left from the Great War—bought and transported to New Warsaw—and others previously manufactured and kept on hand. However, a few of the needed components were not in any of the warehouses, and that need was what prompted the other two manufactories to be tasked with their production.

  He knew it was a risk that someone in supply would notice the chain of events, but he calculated the risk as relatively small. Over the next few hours, he monitored production to see what would happen. By the evening, he was sure nobody had been alerted that he’d once again gone rogue.

  Satisfied, he ate and moved back to the problem of Nemo’s little project. He needed to tell Colonel Cromwell about it, of course. She would likely be furious. Part of him considered that to be an advantage to him. After all, to a Human, the idea of producing clones of a dead person in order to conduct experiments would be rather…abhorrent. Some people would call that throwing Nemo under the bus, while Sato just considered it prudent in drawing ire away from himself.

  There’s the behavior mechanism again, he realized. I need to work on that. On one of his huge Tri-Vs, a recovery program was running. He wrote it a few days ago to repair the remnants of the CASPer Mk 9 program. His revelations had led him to a better understanding of what had been done and how to undo it. Whoever had performed that act of sabotage wasn’t as thorough as Sato had expected them to be. They’d been hurried, it seemed.

  The Tri-V showed production schematics for about half the new CASPer. Unfortunately, it was not enough to produce combat armor suitable for a Human to operate. It wouldn’t be as innovative as Binnig originally intended, but it was enough to combine with the Mk 8 for a more advanced model. More like a Mk 8.5.

  He sent the final results to the pair of manufactories which were already making partial components. With the new data, they would be able to complete the finished products. In addition, he now had a unique design which was more like what Binnig intended, minus the space a human needed to operate it. The operating space was only large enough for maybe a small dog or a large cat.

  “Not enough,” he said to the empty lab. What good would it do? “Maybe I can solve two problems with a single solution?” Sato manipulated the design, removing some life support components while adding others. Yes, that sort of support tech existed; it was used by the Hussars’ medical section and was in inventory.

  Sato grinned and again accessed the manufactory control systems, in particular the two working on the new CASPer Mk 9. He inserted instructions to produce one of the modified design suits, and gave it a designation: the Æsir Mk 1. It would be an interesting test. He’d been so busy finishing the modifications that he hadn’t considered the name would cause any curiosity. His comms system buzzed the next day.

  “Sato,” he said before he recognized the caller.

  “Dr. Sato, this is Lieutenant Titler.”

  Sato’s eyes scrunched up. Lt. Ian Charles Titler was in logistics; why would he be calling? Then he used his now greatly augmented pinplant array to find more details on the man’s job: CASPer manufacturing and distribution, and logistics for the Armorers’ Department. Damn.

  “What can I do for you?” Sato asked with a poker face.

  “We were running the Mk 9 design you sent over, and I noticed the one prototype. I assume this is actually another version of the Mk 9 CASPer?”

  “Yes, of course. It took more time than I planned; there were some issues with adapting that Binnig design to our manufacturing process so the single-run prototype is a test.”

  “Of course, of course,” the man said.

  Sato recognized the response of a man who had no idea what he was talking about. Titler was a mechanic with logistics skills, he possessed no clue how a CASPer was actually manufactured. “So, what can I do for you?” Sato asked. “I’m kind of busy.”

  “Well, that new CASPer looks incredible, and all, but…”

  “Yes?” Sato pushed.

  “It’s just the name. I mean…why did you rename it Æsir? I had to look it up to even know what that meant. Something Norse, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” Sato replied, cursing his own creativity. He should have just stuck with CASPer Mk 9, but what he’d created was so elegant and amazing, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “The system is vastly improved, as you noted, so I gave it a new name.”

  “Oh,” Titler said.

  There was a long moment of silence, leading Sato to believe he wasn’t satisfied. “Is there anything more?”

  “Could you tell me what Æsir means?”

  Kuso, Sato thought, I was a baka. He frantically tasked his pinplants with a solution, running both the meaning of Æsir and possible letter combinations as an acronym. Several thousand possibilities flew through his mind before he settled on a winner less than a quarter second after the question was asked, allowing him to respond as if he’d had the answer waiting.

  “AESIR stands for Armor Experimental System, Improved Response.”

  “Oh!” Titler said. “That’s cool. Thanks.”

  “Of course,” Sato said. “I’ll need to get an armor manual and training regime put together. It’s really complex and dangerous; please be sure to keep drivers away from the Æsir until I have those put together?”

  “Sure, sure,” Titler said, smiling now. “I’ll do that.”

  “Very good,” Sato said, and hung up as the lieutenant opened his mouth to ask a new question. “That should hold him for a while.” Sato made sure the manufactories were sending the two components to different locations—the armor to Titler’s area and the interface to a medical storage facility, then he nodded in satisfaction. That dealt with, he sent a message to Nemo. They needed to talk again, soon.

  * * *

  EMS Bucephalus, Approaching Vishall System, Hyperspace

  “I don’t necessarily agree that another fight is a good idea at this point,” Captain Su said. She was an incredibly capable ship’s commander and a no-holds-barred pragmatist.

  “There is risk,” Jim agreed, “but Captain Jormungd agrees it’s worth it. We finished at Talus a week ahead of schedule, and Vishall isn’t out of line with our travel through hyperspace. We can get intel and possibly help the Humans there.”

  “All correct, of course,” Su said, looking at him in his courtesy commander’s seat in Bucephalus’ CIC, “and I was at the meeting, as well. I just don’t agree with the risk.”

  “Duly noted, Captain,” Jim said. She nodded back, and he knew she wasn’t happy. The potential tactical situation didn’t warrant her trying to override him. With a dozen Winged Hussars warships along, there wasn’t much actual risk to Bucephalus, but as the commander of a mercenary cruiser, she was always extra cautious; they didn’t have the firepower to stand in a real fight.

  Hargrave glanced over at Jim. He didn’t approve either. The Cartwright�
�s Cavaliers’ XO seemed to be increasingly distressed by Jim’s behavior where the Raknar were involved. He’d said after the meeting that his concern was based on Jim’s motivation for going to Vishall. “You sure you aren’t only going there looking for another fight?”

  “Just to see if we can help,” Jim assured the older man.

  “Hyperspace emergence in one minute,” the ship’s computer announced.

  Jim looked around for Splunk but didn’t find her anywhere in the CIC. She had spent quite a bit of the week in hyperspace aboard Dash, working to repair some of the Raknar’s damaged systems. The 30-meter-tall mecha was docked to Bucephalus like a warship catching a ride. It was almost as large as a frigate, but not as wide, so it was able to benefit from the merc cruiser’s hyperspace field without needing its own hyperspace generators.

  He’d talked with her a bit about his feelings while Akee with her, and she said he shouldn’t worry about it. He also wondered about their plan to get the twenty new Raknar into operation.

  “There is a plan, Jim, ”

  “Who’s plan?” Jim had wondered. “Yours or Sly’s?”

  “Sly is in charge, ”

  That last meant she wasn’t happy with it, but not sad about it either. “Do you have any say in what the Fae are doing, both on New Warsaw and here?”

  “Yes,” she’d answered simply, but hadn’t given any other information. That worried him some.

  When the Fae had first turned up, it had been on his newly purchased asteroid, Karma Upsilon 4. Apparently, they’d been moving there for months, likely after Splunk had somehow contacted them. It was the beginning of a wave of revelations for Jim regarding the Fae. He’d once thought they were a simple species living on a relatively primitive world, possessing natural prowess with tech. Of course, even in the beginning there were inconsistencies. Why would a seemingly arboreal species be living in underground caverns on a winter-locked planet?

  Jim was forced to update his opinion on the Fae during his months’ long trip with Splunk searching for the secrets of his Raknar and looking for more. Time and time again she’d shown both independence in action and savvy in combat. But it had floored him when the other Fae turned up at Karma Upsilon 4 and had managed to move the entire asteroid through hyperspace to New Warsaw. While the rules of hyperspace suggested something as big as an asteroid would only require a tiny amount of energy, it did take a lot of hyperspace generators and a computer to get them into hyperspace in the first place. Not to mention knowing where New Warsaw was, Jim thought, as the location was kept so secret that not even Peepo knew where it was.

  The Fae were more than they seemed to be. When Daniel Walker came back from Capital Planet after rescuing Sansar Enkh, he’d brought back an unusual four-legged Raknar, and a Tri-V he’d found inside it. That Tri-V showed a Lumar inside a Raknar with a Fae on its shoulder. The Fae had been involved in the Raknar project, which explained a lot about them.

  Part living toolkit, part interface, Jim thought. It explained both their ability with machines and their telepathic skills. The Kahraman had genetically engineered many creatures for their own purposes. So many, in fact, that uplifting species was now illegal. Maybe the Fae had been uplifted as well.

  “Emergence in ten seconds,” the computer announced. “Three…two…one…” A brief sensation of falling and the Tri-Vs projected space outside.

  “We are in the Vishall star system,” the navigator announced.

  “Bucephalus, this is Phaeton. Hold your position while we evaluate the situation.”

  “Acknowledged, Phaeton,” Captain Su replied.

  They waited for several minutes while the Winged Hussars decided how safe the system was. Eventually, the pronouncement arrived. Vishall had seen some action, but it was over. A Human merc unit, Bjorn’s Berserkers, was present on Vishall and had everything well in hand. They relayed the news that they’d fought against another Human unit who’d been cooperating with Peepo.

  It was a surprising and alarming development, and Jim decided he wanted to meet the Berserkers commander, who had also gotten hold of a low-power shield generator—a smaller version of the ones used on starships—and had deployed them on his vehicles. That little fact had piqued Splunk’s interest. As Captain Jormungd had no objection, Jim and Splunk took a shuttle down to the planet.

  Bjorn turned out to be a huge bear of a man with a cybernetic arm, a remnant of a childhood encounter with…a bear, of course. He’d survived and grown up to eventually take over his father’s unit. There were a few similarities between his and Jim’s story, though they looked nothing alike. Bjorn was in the middle of celebrating his wedding but took time to talk with Jim.

  A massive man, he’d designed an improved Mk 7—he didn’t fit in the Mk 8—even though Binnig had abandoned that model. He also had the shield generators, although they hadn’t worked out quite the way he’d wanted them to.

  “We can use those, ” Splunk said.

  Jim was sure she was thinking the same thing—Raknar—so Jim cut a deal and bought fifteen of the miniature shield generators. Bjorn needed the credits, and Splunk got a new toy for her fellow Fae to experiment with.

  “Are you sure you don’t need any more troopers or ships?” Jim asked as he was leaving.

  “No,” Bjorn said with a booming laugh. “I don’t think Peepo will attack here. Our alien friends on the planet are full Union members and they would cause a lot of trouble. But I’d love a shot at Peepo. Just say the word, and my Berserkers are yours.”

  “I think you’re better served here,” Jim said as he smiled. It was refreshing for a big strong merc to treat him as an equal. “If we need you, we’ll call.”

  With that they were back to space. Several of the Hussar ships had been topped off with reaction mass, and, hours later, they were transitioning out through Vishall’s small stargate on their way to New Warsaw.

  * * *

  EMS Pegasus, Emergence Point, New Warsaw System

  “Emergence in three…two…one…” A brief sensation of falling, and EMS Pegasus was in normal space.

  “Report,” Alexis Cromwell ordered.

  “We are in the New Warsaw system,” Flipper reported. The Selroth officer’s liquid-filled helmet showed bubbles slowly rising as he respirated inside his aquatic environment. “I have the picket located.” The large central Tri-V came alive, rendering images of the ships guarding their home system’s hyperspace emergence point.

  “Things must have proceeded well,” Paka said as she pointed at one of the ships. “That must be Nuckelavee!” Visible were a pair of frigates and the unmistakable cigar-shaped outline of an Egleesius-class battlecruiser like Pegasus.

  “I have comms,” Hoot said. He gestured at the nearest speaker, and a huffing Zuul voice came through.

  “This is Nuckelavee Actual. Welcome home, Pegasus.”

  “This is Pegasus Actual,” Alexis said. She’d been expecting Lech Kowalczy. She’d wanted him to take command of Nuckelavee when she’d left, only that wasn’t who she was talking to. “Thank you, Captain Drizz. It’s good to be home.”

  “I trust your operation went well?”

  “Well enough. We lost Crocus, and Omaha and Macaque were badly damaged. They both stayed behind. Conquest of the planet went well, but a large percentage of the alien fleet escaped.”

  “For now,” Captain Drizz said.

  “Your ship is now combat ready?”

  “Correct, Colonel,” the former intelligence officer replied. “The space naval architects worked out the last issues four days ago. Nuckelavee is one hundred percent combat ready.”

  “Excellent news. Any other arrivals yet?”

  “The task force from Golara returned over a week ago. The end of that operation went as expected. The Arion also arrived about a week ago, and Captain Teenge is waiting to speak with you. Apparently, Lieutenant Colonel Walker and some of the Golden Horde people got left behind on Paradise when the Merc Guild forces arrived, and
Captain Teenge would like to set up a rescue. None of the other task forces have appeared yet.”

  “Very well. We sent a task force to Paradise, so hopefully they will recover our wayward colonel. I’m going to detach Affirmed and Howler to take your position. Follow us to Prime Base; I want to get a jump on what is to come.”

  “Right away, Colonel.”

  “Paka, take us to Prime Base.”

  “Yes, Captain,” her XO replied. “Secure from battle stations. Prepare to maneuver. Pleek, set course for Prime Base. Hoot, relay detachment and…”

  The voice from the CIC cut off as Alexis floated into her adjacent ready room and closed the door. She allowed herself something she wouldn’t do in front of her crew—a deep shuddering sigh of relief. The entire week’s transit in hyperspace returning from Asyola she’d been at wits’ end, hoping nothing had gone wrong.

  Any number of things would have signaled that upon her arrival. If any of the other task forces had beaten her back, or if they’d sent ships as couriers, it would have meant the individual operation had gone badly, or the intel they’d gathered on Golara was not entirely reliable. If any of the Hussar’s intel ships returned prematurely, it would have meant additional unplanned attacks. Then there was her biggest fear: that the secret base had been discovered.

  Ghost said.

  “The Hussars have planned for that eventuality for nearly a century,” Alexis replied. It was a simple truth, dating back to when Ghost first led them to the New Warsaw system before anyone knew the AI existed. Shortly after they’d adopted it as their home, the previous commanders of the Hussars realized they might need to one day defend it against a superior force. It was Alexis’ own mother who’d hired the Horde to work on completing the base’s defenses. The project had a scheduled completion date that was still ten years in the future.

 

  “Only time will tell.” Alexis still held out hope she’d never have to know. She programmed her comms for a direct link and sent the message. A minute later she got the reply.