Conflict!

by Dale Moorhouse

  I commed Ishmael back and let him know where we wanted the ships and simulators delivered. He replied with a chuckle, “So the fun begins now, Jase. I will be down in the hangars when the shuttle arrives with the simulators, I’ll meet you there just after the mid-cycle meal.”

  “Since your teams and mine are going to be working closely, why don’t you come to our HQ and have your mid-cycle meal with us?”

  “I appreciate the invitation, Jase, but for political reasons, I must defer in accepting for now. There are some tensions between the Mmrrreeowwn council and Weasel leadership that need to be eased before we should be seen in other than a purely business context. I will explain more when I see you tomorrow.”

  I decided to find Tuxedo and Ginger and take them to the secure meeting room in the Cohort’s area at HQ.

  I found my two friends right after lunch and led them down to Cohort country. As soon as the door closed, I asked, “Can either of you explain why my people are suddenly finding it hard to get anything done around here? I have had to get involved in resolving issues that should never have come up yet again, I’m sensing an atmosphere of discord that borders on ill will.” I sat at the head of the table and waited while my friends took seats and answered.

  “Jase, we are getting the same level of treatment, I’ve been hearing of it from Bebe, Sol and most of the other staff both Terran and Mmrrreeowwn. I’ve tried getting in to see my mother and find out what is going on, but she has been too busy to see me,” Ginger replied. Tuxedo just nodded and grunted.

  “Any inkling, why?”

  Tuxedo spoke up, “I have some ideas, but you won’t like it.

  “First, I don’t think the Elders liked how you challenged their leadership when we returned from Proxima. I don’t think it is all of them and some who were objecting are probably on our Ark. It only takes a couple of Elders in disagreement to lock things up, you know how our government works by consensus. If pounding on desks and screaming expletives worked with them, I would be hoarse from the yelling, but it does not work.

  “We need to find who the obstacles are and change their minds or find a way to bypass them. Let me reach out to my Immunus community and see what is on the jungle, telegraph.”

  I wait while he commed some of his friends.

  “They will get back to me in the next few centas, maybe then we will have a better idea of what is going on.”

  I looked at Ginger and asked, “Do you have anything to add?”

  “Yes, Jase. I spoke with some of my former chain of command earlier. It seems your declaration of war has tightened a few sphincters. Your cashiering several of your Mmrrreeowwn officers the cycle of your declaration has ruffled the feathers of those relying on politics rather than ability to the extent they are willing to poison the well even if it means their own demise. Some of my former commanders are suggesting there may be a purge to clear out the dead wood, but no one is predicting a favourable outcome.

  “One of them told me a fable of Terra about an emperor wearing no clothes and related our current situation to it in the sense that no one wants to tell the emperor he is naked. It is similar to our Elders being told that running away won’t stop the plague from destroying us eventually. They are being forced to face a reality that many simply don’t want to see.

  “I’m hoping that if a purge comes, it is non-violent. Mmrrreeowwn killing Mmrrreeowwn is not a pleasant thing to think on.”

  “Ginger, I kind of thought that was what was happening. I hope it doesn’t get bloody, too.”

  Tuxedo put his left hand to his ear and listened intently for a few moments then said, “One of my friends was asked by his commander what he thought of officers who are generally incompetent and my friend replied he wouldn’t want to be led by one in the coming war. The commander drew his knife and tried to kill him. Luckily a passing Centurion saw the attack and stopped it but was forced to injure the commander severely. Both are currently confined to the WTC, and the commander is in the medbay being treated for his wounds.

  “This is the third such incident in the last two cycles. In all cases, it was the superior officer who attacked, and two warriors have been killed.”

  “Do you know if Elder Three is aware of the incidents?” I asked. “I know he was highly placed in the militia at one time. He needs to know about this.”

  Tuxedo answers, “My friend didn’t say, and I didn’t think to ask. I’ll try to find out.”

  “I’ll try comming Three and ask him myself,” I said.

  “Hello, Jase,” I heard when Elder Three accepted my call. “What can I do for you?”

  I described what we’d been hearing and the attitudes we were seeing. Elder Three said, “I’m aware of what has been transpiring. I can’t say I didn’t expect it, but I’m saddened that it has. We just got done conferring with the full council of Elders, and your expression about herding cats is all too apropos.

  “You have a lot of friends on the council and even more on the Confederation council. The Confederation council has voted that you be given all aid to build up forces for the coming war and it has been suggested that any inter-species rivalries be put aside for the duration. All have agreed except the Mmrrreeowwn councils, so we are having an emergency plebiscite to decide to remove Elder Four on Mother of Glory and Elders Six and Thirteen on our Ark. We should have the results tomorrow.

  “There is some talk of replacing Elder Four with the sixth highest vote recipient in our last election so we won’t have any tie votes and that issue will be decided in the plebiscite as well.”

  “Can you tell me anything about the candidate, Three?”

  “He served with me in the naval arm of the militia and was a very well-liked and respected officer who always led from the front. He would never ask his people to do something he would not do himself.”

  “Thank you for the update. We were getting concerned because we are getting a lot of push-backs while trying to get organized for war production, which will require more space aboard Mother of Glory. Acrimony is not something we should have to deal with right now. Two of my Centuries are spending this cycle and part of next cleaning up the mess left behind in two hangars we are taking over and that kind of pettiness is uncalled for. I would never dream of letting those in my command treat others that way, I expect the same level of courtesy in return.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of the incident. The officer in command does not know this, but he is being relieved of his command and sent to the Ark. We will find something useful for him to do where he can’t cause any more trouble. This is not the first time he has behaved in this manner, but it is his last.

  “To prevent this kind of behaviour in the future, we are going to start testing our warriors in the same manner the immigrants are being tested for psychological tendencies. We don’t know how we will deal with the failures yet, but at least we will know who to keep an eye on.”

  After he closed the connection, I looked at Tuxedo and Ginger and asked, “Well, what do you think?”

  “On the surface, it seems like a reasonable thing to do,” Tuxedo answered, “but I’m not sure it is the right thing to do. After spending so much time around Terrans, I have come to appreciate how beneficial a small amount of unethical behaviour can be. Unfortunately, it is very dependant on the situation. It is also a complex issue because who is to judge what is unethical? And who is to set the limit that defines an act as being too unethical?

  “I have been studying Terran behaviour since first meeting you, Jase. I have yet to feel confident that I actually understand you, much less Terrans as a whole. I have no doubt you feel that way about Mmrrreeowwn.”

  Ginger just nodded her head and gave me a small, sad smile.

  Ishmael was standing in Hangar Two watching as two weasels in ship-suits unloaded some large box-shaped objects from a shuttle hovering outside the open hangar door. The atmosphere containment field was up, and as the two workers came through from the outside, their helmets automatically retrac
ted. I was standing off to one side with Tuxedo watching the proceedings. We were both in ship-suits because it is a safety policy to not rely on the force field holding in our air.

  We were close enough to hear one of the workers address Ishmael, “Sire, this is the last of the simulators in this load. Our shuttle will return to Mother of Peril for the other six while we install these and run our confidence checks.”

  “Excellent, technician, Our friends have provided a nice space just through that hatch,” Ishmael said as he pointed towards the back of the hangar. “Once all of the simulators are installed, and fully operational my shuttle will take you back home. I’m hoping to have some of the pilots who will be using the simulators here in a deca so you may walk them through the operation of the controls. You probably won’t be leaving until after final meal, so we have made arrangements to feed you here at your normal time.”

  The technician beamed at this and replied, “Our thanks to you Sire. I’m sure the meal will be most excellent and plentiful.” He and his companion began moving the simulators to the training area through the hatch Ishmael had indicated.

  Tuxedo and I walked towards Ishmael and greeted him. After I’d said my hello, I commented, “We couldn’t help overhearing the technician address you as ‘Sire,’ I was unaware of your status as nobility within your culture.”

  “I have repeatedly asked my staff not to use that form of address when I’m not at court, in our Ark or aboard Peril. Their families have served mine for so many generations; I think of them as family, not retainers and servants.

  “As I am sure you know, we are ruled by what Terrans would call a constitutional monarchy. My unfortunate place in the grand scheme of all things Weasel is fourth in the line of succession. Since I have absolutely no desire to ascend to that high office, I do everything I can to keep the emperor and the first three successors alive and healthy.

  “I was sent here as a punishment and to keep me out of the court’s eye, but that was all part of my plan to avoid any likelihood of ascension. Besides, I actually like the few Mmrrreeowwn I know, and I like to think of them as friends. I hope to add Terrans to that circle as well. Come, let me show you how we are setting up your training area.”

  As we headed for the hatch, I saw a shuttle with its loading hatch open move slowly towards the hangar door and stop. Two Weasels in the heavier, augmented ship-suits appeared and moved through the retention field to unload more simulators.

  6

  TUXEDO, ISHMAEL AND I SAT out of the way while the Weasel technicians installed the simulators, aided by some Terrans and Mmrrreeowwn who would be assuming maintenance of the simulators once they are set up and calibrated.

  “I promised you an explanation of the politics between Mmrrreeowwn and Weasels when we last spoke. If Tuxedo doesn’t mind, I would like to give you my views now while we are relatively private and unlikely to be disturbed. Before you ask, please, by all means, record what I say on your implants and share it with those you love and trust. I know you will anyway so we might as well address that elephant in the room straight off.

  “I am an historian both by the sheer love of it and by education. I taught history in our equivalent of university for several kilocycles before internal politics forced me to take a political role. As an historian, I have a keen interest in the history of all the member species in the Confederation. I have studied with preeminent scholars of history of all of our species except Mmrrreeowwn and Terrans.

  “For most of the past Terran year, I’ve been speaking with Dimitri Raselimov who has been kind enough to lend me many books on Terran History as well as religious, philosophical and archaeological texts he brought with him from Terra. In all of my reading, one thing stands out more than any other; you are a young race—which is a blessing and a curse. A blessing because you haven’t accumulated thousands upon thousands of cycles of debt to previous generations and the maintenance of the status quo.

  “It is a curse for much the same reason. Because you are a young race and new to the Confederation, many of your beliefs and actions are taken as the prattlings of children. In short, your species lacks credibility.”

  I started to object, but he held up a hand and said, “Peace, Jase. This is an observation, not a judgment. Please let me finish and then tell me your views.”

  He continued, “Many of my students from my teaching time are moving up in Weasel society and are turning to politics to right what they see as wrongs by previous generations. One, in particular, is now incarcerated because he openly and loudly proclaimed Weasel society to be stagnant and forgetful of lessons learnt in the past. We, like the Mmrrreeowwn, have drifted from our heritage. We have both gotten locked into a way of thinking that will ensure our destruction if we do not change it. I see Terrans as the key to unlocking us from our mental chains.

  “There are growing movements in both Weasel and Mmrrreeowwn culture advocating innovation and change, moving us away from responding to threats in the same way as our ancestors did and taking the fight to the enemy. We need to pick the battleground, and we need to strike together at a time of our choosing. But first, we need to prepare.

  “Our emperor has come to believe this after seeing the changes and successes since the Terrans joined us and he is doing something no emperor has done before, he is studying not only Weasel history but the history of all of the species in the Confederation going back to the earliest of times. He, like I, believes the key to defeating our mutual enemy is in the histories of our races. We just need to find it. We have all become better at killing, but we have not become smarter about it. Now we need to get smarter.

  “That is the current sore spot in relations between Mmrrreeowwn and Weasels; we want to do as you suggest. We want to stand and fight as a strong Confederation, united to defend our right to life and freedom and to chart our own future. Mmrrreeowwn leadership is stuck in the past and wants to continue to run and try to escape. Running is clearly not working, even the current council of Elders and the rest of the Confederation council understand this. Persuading them to change to another strategy is a whole different issue.”

  Since coming aboard, I’d seen signs that some Mmrrreeowwn disagree with the status quo and there was some dissension in the ranks. I first noticed it when Tuxedo and Ginger took me to a conference room on the second floor of Terran HQ. It was in the spaces occupied by the Century of warriors assigned to us by the elders, and I was told that the second floor was the only safe place to talk on the entire ship. I noticed at the time that many of our Century were very careful about what they said when away from their quarters. It must have shown on my face when Tux looked at me and with a slight smile, said, “I see you have figured it out. Ginger and I were wondering how much longer it would take even with Bebe’s less than subtle comments from time-to-time.”

  “Is this a safe place to talk?” I asked.

  Ishmael held up a device that looked like a glowing blue pen and said, “Yes, with this on it is. That is the good news. The bad news is we have to use it sparingly, or the dead-spot in surveillance might get noticed. Please think about all you have heard and understand, it is only the tip of the iceberg as you Terrans like to say. There is much more, it is just out of sight.”

  With that, he twisted the barrel on the device, and it stopped glowing. He stood and handed it to me, then said, “Let us go watch the arrival of your new spacecraft.”

  We were in the Hangar for no more than a centa or two when the first of our new fighters eased slowly through the atmosphere retention field and coasted to a corner of the bay before dropping gently to the deck. Two centas later there were a dozen of the small craft sitting on the deck and a cluster of pilots heading for the hangar door. As they passed by, each flipped us a smart salute and then stepped into space and jetted to a small shuttle standing off about two hundred meters.

  Before any of us could inspect the little ships, Ishmael beckoned us to follow him, and we moved to Hangar Three just in time to see more ship
s landing but these were a bit larger and had two smaller motors on the end of each “wing” instead of one larger one like the fighters next door. Ishmael explained, “These are configured as fighter-bombers. The wings are a little longer so they can carry larger types of ordinance or larger quantities. They also carry three crew members instead of two like the fighter design.”

  Six of them were on the deck when a small shuttle similar to the last drifted to a stop by the hangar door, and the crew from the six ships moved aboard and began transferring crates to our hangar deck using gravity litters similar to the ones I was used to but with the cargo slung underneath. Ishmael said, “Spares, maintenance manuals, tools, and diagnostic equipment,” pointing at a couple of the crates.

  He pointed to some crates being carried aboard and chuckled, “These ships are no good without ordinance so here are a few crates of practice ammunition to allow your staff to become accustomed to them. They have the same motors as war-shot but do not go bang, although, they will put a big dent in whatever they hit so do not pull the trigger if they are pointed at anything you care about.

  “After your pilots and maintenance crews have practised a bit, we will bring over war-shot and they can run gun drills on one of the nearby small bodies. Your fighters are also getting a load of ordinance, it should already be on your deck. The six crews will be staying at the Confederation complex and will be available to assist you in training and can work with your maintenance staff if any issues arise.”

  When I looked back at the ships, I saw word of their arrival had gotten out, and pilots were showing up from all over Mother of Glory to look at our new toys. I walked with Ishmael and my other companions back to Hangar Two and saw Sol and his assistant, Mordechai ben Gouran standing by one of the fighters, both with dreamy looks in their eyes. Sol popped the canopy and climbed in. After he adjusted the seat, he ran his hands over the controls giving them a caress as loving and tender as he might to a lover. “This guy is still a fighter jockey,” I thought to myself “he wants to fly this thing so bad he can taste it.” Mo, as he likes to be called, was sitting in the next ship over and they were both grinning at each other and dreaming of glory. I nodded and waved, and they waved back then got lost in their little world again.