Conflict!

by Dale Moorhouse

  I stroked her head and said, ”I know what you mean sweetheart, it hurt mine too, but you see how quiet everyone has become? Sergei is about to take control, we should watch. We will probably have to repeat this several times until the definition of team transcends national interests.”

  I heard a sullen “OK” from her when she leaned against my leg.

  Sergei used his best parade ground voice and said, “I don’t believe this is what was meant by teams. You are breaking up by nationality when you should be thinking about functions and responsibilities.

  “Those of you involved in quality control regardless of which country go over there,” he said, pointing to one corner of the room. Pointing to a different corner, he said, “Those responsible for inventory and logistics, go over there.” He pointed to one of the groups still standing around and asked, “What do you do?”

  The man looked like a deer caught in the headlights for a few moments and then responded, “Production control, will you all come with me?”

  When Sergei smiled at the remaining people, he had the look of a shark that just discovered a nice school of tuna. He didn’t have to say more, they got the idea and quickly scurried to unused parts of the room. Sergei said, “Good. Now, over time, the makeup of each team may change a little or a lot depending on what unfolds as we move forward, but for now, these are your teams.

  “Discuss what is working and what is not, what you need or do not need, take notes, elect a team leader. You don’t need to stay in this room. If you want to move to other work areas, please do so. We will reconvene in two hours, I will expect a clear, concise report from each team with recommendations on how to fix the problems you have or will likely discover. If you have questions, feel free to ask me, I will be either here or in the cafeteria getting coffee.”

  I watched as the groups moved to more private locations, and I saw some members from one of the larger teams split off and join other groups. Moshe said, “Sergei is obviously military trained, from Russia, eh?”

  “Yes, he is both. He joined us after managing the Russian immigration in St. Petersburg. His organizational skills and leadership turned what could have been a fiasco into an operation as smooth as the Asian and Israeli lifts, and he had over sixty-five thousand people to move in under four days.”

  “Well, he sure got my cats herded up quickly, I could have used him a year ago,” Moshe said with a grin. “You mentioned rounding up some tools to help us out, what did you have in mind?”

  I thought for a moment then replied, “Whatever and whomever I can get and use. Let me make a couple of calls and then join me for some coffee in the cafeteria, Sergei mentioned it, and I can’t get it out of my mind now.”

  Moshe nodded his head and wandered off, so I stepped outside to comm Ginger. “What would it take to get a half dozen shuttles assigned to the Asian Consortium and Israel? They need them to transport raw materials down and subassemblies up to space.”

  She responded, “I am not sure. I will contact the Elders and see if they have any recommendations.”

  I got a feeling I was about to get a lot more second-guessing from the Elders, they have been somewhat distant since I told them in no uncertain terms I was taking them to war, and it was going to be dirty. I decided to contact the Weasels and Squids to see what they might have to offer to move things forward. I got ahold of Livid first, and its attitude was positive, almost giddy.

  “Jase, we have no extra shuttles right now, but we do have plenty of volunteers who will work with your Terrans to assemble whatever they produce once it is in orbit. We like the less lethal welding techniques they have developed, many of our technicians are yearning to try them out. I will see when we can get you some shuttles but probably not for twenty cycles or more.”

  My call to Ishmael, the one Weasel I’ve met, was picked up immediately and his response was positive, “I have been anticipating your call Jase. As you know, we haven’t built any mothership segments for at least a thousand kilocycles and have converted our shops to produce Swift Fangs and Elsies. The good news is we have two sets of jigs and parts for most of a third set. We should deliver those first to your Terran plants and help set them up before we bring down a lot of materials. We can also supply gravity trucks to move the large pieces around and load subassemblies on shuttles for the trip up.

  “We have a good deal of smaller parts that we have been dragging around with us for ages. We can lend you as many as forty shuttles and crew so your production process can begin almost right away. All we ask is the first two modules be configured for ship production and sent to us so we can get moving on building up for the coming operations.”

  This is going better than I had hoped and the price is one I was more than willing to pay. “Thanks, Ishmael. You have been reading my mail. I was just telling the group here that we need to ramp up war production first, and their first modules would be factory modules. The first two are yours. When can we get started on bringing the tools down?”

  “It will take us five cycles to achieve orbit around Terra so I would say we can begin dropping loads down on the sixth cycle. I will have some of our production techs there in two cycles to survey the plants where the jigs will be installed, which should give you time for any last centa adjustments. Where should I send the techs?”

  “Bring them to Mother of Glory, we will get them down to where they are needed. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

  “No problem, Jase.”

  “Ishmael, what else have you anticipated?”

  “There is a long answer and a short answer. I’ll give you the short answer now. When the site survey is done, and the promised materials are on their way, we will sit down, and I will give you the long one.

  “The short answer is based on your latest global war that you Terrans refer to as WW2. We will provide anything you need.

  “In particular you are going to need a class of spacecraft the Mmrrreeowwn don’t currently have, and the enemy has never had. At one time the Mmrrreeowwn had small ships that were carried to battle by larger vessels, even larger than your Talons but not as large as motherships. Terrans have a similar machine in their aircraft family called fighters and fighter bombers. You will have to ask the Elders why they no longer build them. We have tried to ask, but reasonable answers were never forthcoming. When we pressed for details, the Elders simply stopped talking to us.”

  “I’ve always been curious about that, Ishmael. It seems logical the Mmrrreeowwn would use both classes of spacecraft in an attack, but I suspect they never attack but only defend or retreat, else I would expect they would have a lot more intelligence on the Plague than they do. Construction of carriers, fighters, and fighter-bombers is what I was hoping to discuss with you when I am back aboard Mother of Glory. Could we begin that discussion tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely, Jase. I am pleased you have asked. We have gathered much information over the megacycles we have been running. Among that information is a catalogue of ships and ship types we have gleaned from every spacefaring race we have encountered. Some are not practical for creatures built like us, but many more are, and many designs could be built in automated factories. Some of the most functional designs are incredibly ugly, but we don’t need works of art do we? No, we need our fighters to be very fast, hard to hit and carry a massive punch for their size.

  “Your security people know where I am. Why don’t you come to my offices and we can start digging for designs that might work for us? I can show you a couple of types we have built but could never interest the Mmrrreeowwn in.”

  “Thanks, Ishmael. I would like to bring some Terrans with me who have atmospheric fighter craft experience. I would like to bring one of my Talon commanders as well since I’m thinking of using the Talon-Class as carriers. Perhaps she will see something in the collection that might be better suited. How about we meet at sixth deca?”

  “That would work well for me. It gives me time to time to get a few of my experts together. I will tal
k to you, then, Jase.”

  When I was done with Ishmael, I headed for the cafeteria for some coffee and a snack. On the way, I told Serena about my conversation with Ishmael, and I apologized for not patching her in. She just chuckled that weird sound of hers, so I sent her a copy of the conversation from my implant, and also I sent it to Tuxedo who opted to stay on Righteous Claws —he’s not overfond of meetings. I asked him to comm Sol and have him get a few fighter pilots together and bring them to Terran HQ. I want them to help evaluate the designs we will be shown in tomorrow’s meeting with Ishmael.

  Moshe, Serena and I walked in the meeting room just as Sergei was getting a report from the first of the teams he created earlier. We listened to each report and Sergei’s comments but had nothing of our own to add. He was doing a much better job of getting them to pull together than I could, I saw no reason to interfere. Moshe drew me aside, and Toshi joined us as we walked outside and stood in the sun.

  Toshi said, “If I hadn’t seen it, I would never have believed how great a turnaround Sergei has performed with the Consortium teams. I’ve been trying for weeks to get that result. I’m just too patient and forgiving to manage people like that.”

  Moshe agreed, “Me either. I was rapidly reaching my wit's end with them.”

  I filled them in on my conversation with Ishmael, and they were pleased, particularly about all jigs and tools they were going to get not to mention a fleet of shuttles with crews to lift their product to space. I told them, “Sergei and I will be back in a couple of cycles with some Weasel technicians to perform a survey of the assembly areas. If anything needs to be fixed prior to delivery, they will inform us.

  “I know that Korea, Japan, and Israel all produce fighter aircraft. Do you think they might be able to shift to fighter and fighter-bomber class spacecraft production in a year? Don’t answer now but feel out your contacts and let me know when we come down next. If the implants work for you without the longevity treatments, we will bring those with us as well.”

  5

  OUR ESCORT MOVED THROUGH THE doorway to the Weasel offices that were next to the complex where the Elders reside and conduct their business. All of the members in the Confederation of Species have offices in this complex except the Mmrrreeowwn, they administer this ship, and us. We Terrans have been given our own building, but then there were many more of us aboard Mother of Glory. As I stepped through the door, I saw Ishmael standing by a long counter, and he was talking with Bebe who chose to accompany us.

  Tuxedo asked Sol Rosenblum, a former fighter pilot in the Israeli Defence Force airforce to gather a few of his pilot friends from amongst the Israeli immigrants and Sol had rounded up three, two were currently flying Swift Fangs as relief pilots and one who had moved into Sol’s group and helped manage our small but growing space force. We met for lunch before walking over to meet with Ishmael. All four were definitely excited at the prospect of developing and flying starfighters, the term they were using to describe what they hoped to be flying soon.

  Ishmael walked over with Bebe, and it was clear they have respect for each other even though the Mmrrreeowwn typically don’t paint Weasels as pleasant or friendly. This got my curiosity up, and I wanted to speak with Bebe about it later. Bebe said farewell to Ishmael, rounded up our escort and headed out. She commed and told me she and her people would be down the avenue at Benji’s Place and to call when ready for the walk back to HQ.

  Ishmael greeted me and introduced himself to Sol and his friends then bade us follow him to a meeting room set up to allow us to browse through their ship database. Before he turned us loose to search he made a few remarks offering help at any level we required, then he and an assistant wearing a full ship-suit showed us how to use the work stations they had set up for us. We’ve all been using Mmrrreeowwn workstations for over a year now, so it only took a few centas to get used to the slight differences in commands.

  “I will return in a few centas,” Ishmael told us. “I will have some fruit drinks and snacks brought to you in a short while. I want to get a couple of our engineers to come and sit with you to answer any questions you may have. They will likely have many for you since they will head up the teams that will develop the production designs when you have made some choices about features and functions. They would also like to show you some designs we came up with many kilocycles ago that the Mmrrreeowwn were not interested in.”

  Sol and his friends quickly discovered how the database was organized and appreciated how thorough the Weasels had been in collecting and sorting their data. The active pilots quickly found several designs they were interested in. The database allowed them to build searches based on performance data as well as physical size and weapons capability. The most promising designs they found are squat, ugly little ships that are little more than an assemblage of weapons attached to a central spine that holds life-support pods and fuel with two huge engines on the stern for forward propulsion and two thick, stubby wings holding two more engines and manoeuvring jets. The two wing engines are mounted on the ends of the wings and a designed to be used both for propulsion and braking. Comparing the images, it was clear that they were created by the same engineers.

  David, one of the active pilots, said, “Whoever designed these ships has a good understanding of some basic design principals like cost, ease of maintenance and mission-based reconfigurability. I think that it is easier to accomplish if one does not have to contend with flying in an atmosphere. In this case, I like the fact that all of the insides are on the outside where they can be modified or rearranged quickly and easily.”

  Sol was quick to agree, and while the other two agreed in principle Simon, the other active pilot commented, “All that you say is true but my god they are ugly! If I saw something like that flying at me with guns blazing, I would shoot it down just to spare the pilot the embarrassment of continuing to fly it.”

  Ishmael had been quiet since he returned and now spoke up, “Maybe that is why the Mmrrreeowwn didn’t like it, it offended their artistic sense.” He chuckled as he continued, “We slipped that family of ships in the database to see how Terrans would react without knowing who designed the ships. Believe me, I’m not embarrassed or offended, after all, you found the ships by searching for something that would serve how you envision waging war in space. Many designs are prettier, but they are all compromises between what works well in space versus what works well in atmosphere. In real life, they don’t do that well in either environment compared to machines optimized for specific situations.

  “We have simulators on Mother of Peril, I will have a few shipped over as soon as she achieves Terran orbit. We also have a few configurations built that you will be able to try out if you are interested.”

  The two active pilots looked at each other and grinned, “I think we would do ourselves a disservice if we didn’t take you up on that offer,” David said with his friend nodding an enthusiastic “yes.”

  Sol was a little more circumspect, but I could see he was wavering a little, “Well, some of my planes weren’t particularly pretty, but they got the job done. We can definitely look and try them out. The time we save will be worth extra production time if these ships pan out.”

  “I can’t ask for more than that, Sol,” Ishmael said. “We will appreciate any feedback you give after you try them out. We can also quickly modify them if you find you need additional features or capability.”

  I finish up the last of my fruit punch and commed the others saying, “Let’s think about this until Mother of Peril gets here and then reconvene after some simulator time.” We all stood, and Ishmael walked us out to where our escort was waiting.

  ◆◆◆

  The Weasels outdid themselves. Their techs came back from Israel, Korea and Japan giving a thumbs-up for delivery of the jigs and four cycles later shuttles dropped to all three production sites loaded with jigs and other tooling suitable for building the subassemblies used in mothership hull segments. A cycle after that, I got a comm
from Ishmael asking where I want the simulators and six “sample” starfighters delivered. “I don’t know, Ishmael. Let me contact Sol, I know he and his people have been running with this. I apologize for not keeping better track, I’ll get back to you in a few centas.”

  I commed Sol and filled him in and asked, “Do you have space for this equipment?”

  “Yes, I do, Jase. Sorry, I dropped the ball in letting you know I’d wrestled hangar space from the Elders and have been tied up with helping re-home a few Swift Fangs so we could have the two bays next to the one we already have. With the extra ships we salvaged from the Proxima operation our existing bay is full, and we have more latched to the spine waiting for hangar space. By mid-cycle tomorrow we will have our new spaces cleaned up and organized so we can accept the ships after the mid-cycle meal.

  “The simulators and such can go in a compartment right behind the hangar. I made sure to get as much space as I could before things lock up and I can’t get anymore. Just so you know, getting the hangars was like pulling teeth. The Mmrrreeowwn kept pushing back until I finally went to the Elders. Now my contacts are upset. I went over their heads, so they’ve left quite a mess in the bays.”

  “Well, I can fix that,” I said. “Let me comm someone and light a fire under them.”

  I commed Bebe and explained the problem, and she replied, “I will send down two Centuries with orders they are to accommodate Sol in any way they can. Welcome to my world, Jase. I’ve been getting more than the usual foot-dragging from people I thought I had good relations with. Tuxedo and Ginger have mentioned the same. You may want to talk about it with them—just saying.”

  “Thanks, Bebe. Any help you can send is more than appreciated. I will talk with Tux and Ginger and try to get to the bottom of this. The last thing we need is to be on the bad side of the Elders.”

  “I think that ship has sailed, Jase.”