“I, um, believe someone is, yes.”
“Good. Still, I ought to talk to Mesme. Anyway, we used amodiamond scrap from his ship to patch up the carbon metamat hull of the Siyane. The metals were similar enough for us to straight weld them together. Within a day or two, the patched section of the hull started changing color and, it turned out, began morphing into what we now call adiamene.”
“A chemical reaction occurred between the two materials?”
“Yes.”
“But the entire hull eventually transformed, right? How long did that take?”
“It happened slowly at first, then suddenly all at once.”
“Do you have any explanation for why the process sped up?”
“Well…there was one thing. A few weeks after we did the patch job, we got into another firefight—”
“With each other?”
“Ha. No, not this time. With several Kat swarmers. Their weapons fire grazed the Siyane’s undercarriage. The hits didn’t do any damage, because that section of the hull was already adiamene. But after the encounter, it only took a couple of days for the transformation to consume the ship.”
“You think the energy from the weapons fire accelerated the transformation?”
“I think there’s a temporal correlation between the two events. But causation? I haven’t the slightest clue.”
“Of course. Thank you for your time. Oh, one last question. Do you happen to be able to find out the nature and energy output of a swarmer’s weapon?”
“Thirty-two kilotonnes of tight-beam laser energy per second.”
“I kind of expected you to need to ask someone, such as a Kat or possibly a military historian.”
“I’m a Prevo, remember? It was relevant information for our final battle against the Kats, back when they were the enemy.”
“Understood. Thank you again. I won’t take up any more of your time.”
There was a long pause on the other end. “No news from Namino?”
“I’m sorry. I wish there were.”
Ridani Enterprises Testing Facility
Dashiel met Vance Greshe at Ridani Enterprises’ outdoor testing facility near Mirai Two. By the time he arrived, Vance had secured a six-by-three-meter sheet of adiamene onto a vertical frame like a range target. And for the moment, it basically was one.
Two techs were finishing up the assembly of their makeshift power source, which had been hastily designed to mimic the output of a Kat swarmer vessel. It was an ugly, oversized block of cobbled-together components and cables, but it didn’t need to be pretty. It just needed to work once.
Dashiel rubbed his hands together to warm them against the frigid winter wind as he joined Vance. “You’re a miracle worker, as always. Did you run into any problems with the setup?”
“The only open question is the angle of impact, if you think it matters.”
“Hells, anything could matter. She said the fire ‘grazed’ the hull, so let’s set things up for a sideways glancing blow.”
“Yes, sir.” Vance went to confer with the techs, and they rolled the firing assembly to the left until it was situated at a twenty-two-degree angle from the sheet.
“We’re ready when you are, sir.”
“All right. Let’s output a three-second burst, then wait and see what happens.”
Vance reached around the rear of the assembly and flipped a switch—it really was that rushed of a setup. A beam of crimson light shot out to skim across the surface of the adiamene sheet before flickering off.
Dashiel jogged up to the sheet for a closer look. It remained completely unmarred. Not so much as a faint scorch mark. But it also continued to sit placidly and silently, as a proper metal should.
He took a few steps back, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Nothing happened.
Finally, he sighed. “Dammit.”
“Sir, perhaps the problem is that it’s all already adiamene. It has nothing to turn into adiamene, which as I understand events is what happened the first time.”
“Good point. So, what? We graft strips of carbon metamat along the edges for it to feast on?”
Vance shrugged. “It’s an idea.”
“Before we take the time to scrounge up more material, let’s think this through. If your idea does work, what would this tell us? Our ultimate goal is to create protective shells over the parts of a ship that require seams—engines, weapons, exhaust ports, airlocks. To do this, we’d have to install retractable covers over those areas made of the metamat, then when needed, activate the covers and direct an energy surge into the adiamene adjacent to them.”
Damn, he wished Grant were here to tell him if any of this was remotely feasible or, more likely, as ludicrous as it sounded. The skeptical expression on Vance’s face, though, got close enough.
He ran fingertips pensively along the flawless sheet of metal. “But say all this works, and we end up with a seamless, impenetrable shell of adiamene over the area in question. How do we retract the cover once it’s no longer required? Any seam defeats the purpose, but you can’t break adiamene. That’s the point of using it.”
Abruptly he spun away from the sheet, shaking his head. “Vance, I’m sorry for wasting your morning.”
“It’s no trouble—and also my job.”
“To entertain my fanciful and wholly impractical ideas?”
“As well as the practical ones, sir.”
“Right. I ought to try to come up with more of those.” He turned and started to leave…then pivoted back to reconsider the test setup. “But what about…?”
“About what?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure. I’ll be in the kyoseil lab if you need me—no, scratch that. I’ll be in the adiamene lab. Or, both.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ridani Enterprises
The threads of kyoseil glittered within the chrome molten metal like strings of stars woven through a nebula. The metal had been carefully painted in a thin sheet upon the kyoseil lattice; as it began to harden, it took on an almost plaid appearance. A kilt of precious, life-infused and life-saving material. Maybe.
Standing here waiting for it to cure wasn’t going to speed up the process, so he tracked down the Adiamene Project Lead in the adjacent prototype assembly lab.
“How’s our experiment look, sir?”
“So far so good, but we haven’t truly accomplished anything yet. As soon as the test sheet finishes curing, I want it subjected to every single test we initially ran on the first sheets of adiamene. If the composite material isn’t as strong and flexible as the pure adiamene, this will be the second wasted endeavor of my day.”
“And if it passes those tests?”
He hesitated, reluctant to voice another ludicrous proposition. “Then we see if we can talk to it.”
The idea had come to him when he’d started talking about ‘retracting’ the hypothetical adiamene covers. An image had flashed in his mind of the Reor responding to a harmonic wave by softening and retreating to set its kyoseil fibers free from their protective armor. Only now did he fully appreciate how it wasn’t the Reor controlling the response, but rather the kyoseil. He knew from millennia of experience molding it into products that kyoseil was highly adaptive, but it was easy to forget that, however mysterious and arcane kyoseil remained, it was also alive.
If the kyoseil and adiamene played nice with one another, and if their blending didn’t weaken both, then maybe they could use the kyoseil to expand and retract adiamene on command by using its native language: harmonics and resonance.
It shouldn’t work. But adiamene shouldn’t exist and kyoseil shouldn’t be sentient, and they desperately needed something to break their way.
38
* * *
MIRAI
DAF Military Services Center
Construction cranes and assembly mechs created an air of purposeful activity along the perimeter of what had been, until a week ago, a barely sta
ffed adjunct military center in Mirai Two. Operating under the reasoned assumptions that DAF Command on Namino was going to remain inaccessible for the foreseeable future and the Initiative floorspace was never going to suffice as a military command center, Lance’s third act after reawakening was to order the immediate expansion of the center here. His forces needed a dedicated space to train, organize and grow.
He exchanged salutes with the members of the officer corps he passed on the way to the auditorium at the center of the facility, then strode directly to the podium at the center of the raised dais. Once there, he focused his attention on the sea of faces gazing up at him with rapt attention.
Three hundred sixty-four special forces ground troops—the entirety of the ground forces in the Dominion Armed Forces, save the twenty-eight who were on Namino when the Rasu attacked. DAF fielded no infantry, as the possibility of fighting a sustained ground war had always seemed unimaginable, even to him.
Perhaps he should have sent all these troops to Namino as soon as the Rasu attack began. Though based on what little they knew about the situation on the ground there, three hundred ninety-two soldiers stood no greater chance against the invaders on the ground than their warships had stood against the invaders in space. The scores of pilots lost in the rout at Namino were still being regened.
Enlistment was up, at least. Provided a tangible enemy, people wanted to fight. And Kat Rift Bubbles or not, Lance knew in his bones that one day soon, they would get their wish. He only hoped he’d have time to mold their growing ranks into a proper fighting force before the day arrived.
“Everyone, thank you for coming today. I know you’ve all begun training in earnest for ground combat against the Rasu. I’m happy to report that new weapons will soon be coming your way to give you an advantage in such combat. Killing Rasu takes unconventional armaments, and we’re working hard to develop them, get them into your hands and train you on how to use them to destroy these metal motherfuckers. Now, given the current size of our special forces regiment, we must be strategic in how we think about taking the fight to the Rasu. We need to—”
A hand shot up in the front row. Lance frowned; he didn’t care for being interrupted. “Yes, Lieutenant? You have something to add?”
“I volunteer to diversify. I want to help increase our numbers.”
Another hand rose, on the left side of the auditorium. “Captain?”
“So do I. I always wanted a brother, anyway. Maybe two of them.”
Shouts now began overlapping one another from throughout the crowd—all people volunteering to do the same.
Lance motioned for quiet. Those present being soldiers, they quickly complied. “Thank you, Lieutenant, Captain. A show of hands: how many of you are willing to diversify within the strictures of military personality profile guidelines, thus creating additional DAF fighting forces?”
A good forty percent of those present in the room raised their hands.
“You realize this is a permanent proposition. Once created, your sibling shards will have their own thoughts and desires. They’ll follow paths of adaptation and improvement that you won’t be able to control and might not approve of.”
Four or five hands lowered, but no more. He did the math in his head. If everyone who volunteered created two siblings, which was the most common option, the number of special forces soldiers would double in a matter of days. If any of them created a greater number….
Lance was not a sentimental man, but the dedication to protecting the Dominion on display here made his heart do a little pitter-patter in his chest. He even smiled, briefly. “Thank you all for wanting to support our mission. I’ll appoint someone to spearhead a formal diversification program, so we can track your new siblings and integrate them into our existing forces in an organized and swift manner.”
Applause spontaneously broke out among those gathered, leaving Lance momentarily speechless. He cleared his throat and adopted a scowl. “That’s enough. Now, later today, we’re rolling out new modifications to our combat training program.”
Walking off the dais twenty minutes later, Lance spotted Dashiel waiting for him by the side exit. He diverted in the man’s direction. “Ridani? What the hells are you doing here?”
“I need to show you something.”
He spread his arms wide. “I’m waiting.”
“Come with me.”
“I don’t have time to go on a field trip.”
“Just down the hall. I’ve set everything up in one of the meeting rooms.”
“Set everything of what up?”
Ridani looked almost gleeful. “You’ll see.”
It seemed today was bringing more than one surprise. Lance trailed Ridani out of the auditorium, down the east hall and into a small meeting room. Inside, a sergeant stood at attention beside a sheet of chrome metal laid out on the table.
“Thank you, sergeant, for guarding it for me. We’re good now.”
“Yes, sir.” The sergeant saluted Lance and departed, while Ridani started fiddling with the metal sheet, attaching a small transmitter mid-way down one side of it.
“Is that adiamene?”
“Sort of.”
“If this is supposed to be engineer humor, it’s lost on me.”
Ridani squinted at the tiny screen on the transmitter and made an adjustment. “Sorry. I don’t have an official name for it yet, so let’s call it ‘enhanced’ adiamene for now.”
“Enhanced with what?”
“Kyoseil. Watch this.” Ridani activated the transmitter, evoking a slight thrum in Lance’s bones.
After a few seconds, the sheet dimpled in a line perpendicular to the transmitter. The metal thinned there, then gradually separated until the one sheet became two.
Ridani smirked.
“I thought adiamene was designed to be indestructible. How is this an enhancement?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me show you.” Ridani tweaked a setting on the transmitter and activated it again. The inner edge of the left sheet expanded until it touched the right sheet, and in seconds the two had re-merged into a single solid piece.
He arched an eyebrow at Ridani. “I don’t get it.”
“Don’t you see? Kyoseil can control the shape and breadth of the adiamene! We can have seamless hulls when we need them—to keep Rasu out—and discrete components when we don’t.”
“Won’t it break our ships if their hulls are randomly shrinking and expanding?”
“No. With a sophisticated enough oversight program, we’ll enjoy a highly precise degree of control over what sections of the hull open and close. We’ll semi-isolate those sections, so a properly designed ship won’t suffer any stresses from the alterations.”
“And who’s writing the oversight program? You?”
“Yes. I should have it finished by tonight.”
Lance dragged a hand down his jaw. “New hull designs? Now new materials? We can’t keep starting over from scratch every time you get another brilliant idea.”
“I know we can’t. This will be worth it, I promise you. Not only will our ships be all but indestructible, they’ll be impermeable to Rasu incursions. Let me build you a fleet of these ships, and the next battle will go very differently for us.”
He stared at the reformed sheet of metal. “And when the pieces join back together, the material is as strong as it was before splitting?”
“Absolutely. This is what kyoseil does—bond with other materials to enhance their strengths.”
“What’s the transmitter for? How are you coaxing the adiamene to split apart?”
“Harmonic resonance wave functions.”
“Fine, don’t tell me.” Lance jerked a nod. “Build me one ship and show me that it works in the field. Then we can talk about your fantastical notions for a new fleet.”
“A prototype is already under construction. It’ll be ready in thirty-six hours.”
39
* * *
MIRAI
Omoikane Initiat
ive
“Hey.”
Nika jerked out of her reverie to see Perrin standing in front of her. Perrin thrust out her hand, which held a steaming hot peach croissant. “You look like you could use a boost.”
She gratefully accepted the croissant. “I’ve been meaning to go down to the cafeteria and get some breakfast, but I keep getting distracted…” she glanced around, only now remembering that she’d holed up at a workstation behind a shoji screen as soon as she’d arrived “…by my own thoughts, apparently.”
“I’ve seen this expression on your face before.” Perrin dragged a second chair closer, sat down opposite Nika and produced her own half-eaten croissant. “I need to tell you something, before my guilt eats me alive.”
“What is it?”
“I knew about Parc being a Plex. Before he showed up here, I mean. It’s how he was able to help me find and rescue Adlai from Ian Sevulch.”
Nika set the croissant down on the workstation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he asked me to keep his confidence, and I owed him big-time, so I agreed. I’m sorry. I confessed to Adlai last night, too, which…well, it didn’t go great, but I think I finally made him see my side, at least a little bit, and he didn’t kick me out.” She dropped her head into her hands. “I am a terrible secret-keeper, and I should never ever do it again.”
Nika wanted to be angry. She should be angry. But her emotional processes had devoted themselves exclusively to obsessing over the destruction and loss of life on Namino and her own guilt for not being on the ground there. Besides, she’d hardly found the time to so much as speak to Perrin since the Rasu attack; when did she imagine her friend would have confided in her?
She forced a weak smile. “It doesn’t really matter—or it didn’t, until it did. I’m just glad Parc came forward and told us.”
Inversion (Riven Worlds Book Two) Page 24