Star Carrier (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 3)

by B. V. Larson

  “You’re right,” I said. “The belt represents a nearly limitless source of metals, but they’ve been supplying the effort to build our battleships in Earth orbit all this time, too.”

  “I haven’t heard of any serious shortage of steel, nickel or radioactives back home, have you?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No,” I said. “They must be using variants to raise mining output as well as construction output.”

  “It only makes sense,” Yamada said. “How else could they have increased production so rapidly? With so much orbital construction occurring both on Earth and Mars… they’d have to be producing three or four times their normal levels of mining output to sustain it all.”

  I stepped to the slit-like windows and looked outside. The reflected light from Mars made me squint a little.

  “So, we have to assume they’ve got these variant things all over the place,” I said. “Working faster than men can work.”

  “They must be out there,” she said. “It’s a matter of economics. Building starships rapidly has always been problematic. In the old days, they built colony ships as large as Iron Duke, but it took several years to construct each of them.”

  “Right…” I said, recalling my history texts of the past. “It was a massive effort.”

  “There are two barriers to the rapid production of starships: raw resources and labor,” Yamada continued. “If you build a ship in space, that goes a long way to solving the resource problem. Rather than lifting metals from Earth’s gravity well one ton at a time, you can move it around much more freely. Asteroids have very little gravity to fight against.”

  “But humans don’t work well in null-G,” I said, following her line of reasoning.

  “They don’t, but I’m willing to bet they solved both problems with the variants. They have teams of them mining at the belt, churning out metals. Construction teams here on Phobos—maybe they’re even using them back at Earth, on the orbital platforms…”

  “You really think they might have variants working in Earth orbit?” I asked, freshly alarmed by the concept. “Couldn’t they have simply built robots to do the task?”

  Yamada shrugged. “According to Vogel, these variants get up to speed faster. They self-design to some extent. Pure robots are hard to design and build. You have to plan out every detail of their operation. We haven’t done much in the field over the last century. Politics has all but shut down innovation in that direction.”

  Her words made me somewhat uncomfortable. My own father was the head of the Equality Party. They’d often stifled innovation on the grounds that it killed jobs for their constituents.

  “The end result,” Yamada went on, “is that we don’t have robots sophisticated enough for this kind of labor. A few drones, some repair units with welders, but nothing up to the task of constructing an entire starship. We could develop them in time, of course… but as Vogel said, this was a crash project.”

  “They’ve traded an old demon for a worse one,” Zye said suddenly. “They have no idea what they’ve done.”

  “You might be right,” I said. “But these variants don’t sound exactly like the Stroj. Didn’t Vogel say something about scrubbing their minds before rebuilding them into new bodies?”

  Zye shook her head. “He also talked about them being volunteers.” She looked at each of us for a moment. “Do you really think the previous owners of the brains inside the variants were volunteers when they were sent to Phobos?”

  Yamada shook her head. I had to agree.

  “It seems unlikely,” I admitted, “that anyone would volunteer to have their brains removed from their bodies, processed, and placed inside an abominable construct of flesh and metal.”

  “And, who volunteers for a mind scrub?” Zye asked. “Would you?”

  With grim thoughts lingering in our heads, we rode the rest of the way along Pier Three to Defiant in brooding silence.

  -4-

  After reaching the command deck, I immediately sent an open channel-request to Admiral Halsey. He put me off. No doubt, he was enjoying his tour of the construction facilities.

  Nearly an hour later, he finally responded by transmitting a hologram of himself to me as I sat in my command chair. Halsey walked around the place, inspecting my instrumentation.

  The rest of the crew couldn’t see him, of course. He was a ghost that only existed for my senses.

  “Wasn’t that incredible, Sparhawk?” he demanded. “I have to tell you, I came out here expecting some surprises, but that Vogel fellow—he’s a genius—an absolute genius. With characters like him working for Earth, we can’t lose this war.”

  I kept my face neutral with an effort of will.

  “Yes sir,” I said, “his achievements are startling to say the least.”

  Halsey stopped pacing on the deck and frowned at me. “Do I detect a lack of enthusiasm? The Director hinted that you had your doubts about his project. He also complained about a sore neck. Do you know anything about that?”

  “Well sir… could we take this into my private office?”

  “What for?” he growled.

  “This project is highly classified.”

  “Right… Okay, lead on.”

  His image followed me into my office, and we sat down together. The software made a slight error, probably due to our shift of scenery. He appeared to be sitting on the far side of my desk, but instead of being anchored to the chair, he was posed floating in the air a half-meter above it. As he didn’t see anything wrong with my positioning, I decided to ignore the anomaly.

  “Admiral,” I began, “I do have misgivings.”

  I proceeded to relate to him all my doubts about using variants.

  “You think they’re too much like the Stroj, huh?” Halsey asked when I’d finished. “Well, they are freaky. I’ll give you that. But it’s time to man-up, Sparhawk. This isn’t just a border skirmish we’re involved in. If the Stroj come here in strength, they’ll wipe us out. You’ve seen the projections. Without the ships these monsters have produced, we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “I can’t deny the truth of your words.”

  “So then, what would you want to do differently?”

  “I think we should build our fleet then immediately close the new facilities,” I said.

  He blinked at me in shock. “What? Are you kidding? After all this effort and expense? Every Great House on Earth is chipping in. You know that, don’t you? They’ve put down their treasure, and they’ve spent it all. That includes your family as well, Sparhawk.”

  “I’m sure that’s true, sir. But you asked me what I thought, and I think we should—”

  “What would we do with the variants themselves if we closed down their factories?”

  “Well… I think we should destroy them. All of them. They pose a danger to—”

  Halsey stood up suddenly in agitation. The software was still wrong, and he was now looming over my desk, with his illusory head brushing the ceiling. His finger waggled at my face.

  “I’ve got your number, Sparhawk. I get it. Your family is behind all these misgivings. You Equality types are all alike. You hate progress. You want stagnation and protectionism. Well, your time has passed on for now. This isn’t about human labor versus automation. We have to pull out all the stops and use every trick we have to win this war!”

  The software managing the admiral’s positioning was slowly correcting itself. It now had him drifting downward until his feet touched the floor of my office again. He paced in front of me angrily.

  “I don’t like to see this kind of thing in my best officers,” he said. “Why does politics always have to rear its head when the money begins to flow around in new directions? Can’t we all just focus on the joint goal of surviving this war?”

  “Admiral,” I said, interrupting his tirade, “please understand that I agree with most of what you’re saying. But I would ask that you consider how the Stroj developed originally. Did they take the same pa
th we’re taking now to solve their problems?”

  “Huh? You’re not making any sense, man! No one is suggesting that we all turn ourselves into variants. A few criminals and social rejects, that’s all we have here. I see nothing wrong with pressing them into the service of Earth when she needs them most. They’re finally contributing to the social good.”

  I stared at him for a frozen moment. He was as much as admitting to me that the variants were not volunteers by any stretch of the imagination. I didn’t know quite how to respond.

  “That’s right,” he said. “It’s hard to be in command of a defensive effort that spans an entire star system. Choices have to be made. Hard calls that don’t let a man sleep easily at night—not unless he keeps the consequences of failure clearly in mind.”

  He went on like that for quite some time, and I no longer bothered to argue with him. He wasn’t going to listen, I could tell that by now.

  When he ended the call and vanished from my office at last, I headed back to the command deck to check over the status of my ship. All was well for now.

  A week passed before we left Mars orbit. The Iron Duke came with us when we headed home.

  “Course?” Durris asked, looking at me expectantly.

  Up until this moment, our destination had been a carefully guarded secret. The officers aboard had a pool going, most of them betting on a return to the nearest colonies such as Tranquility Station at Gliese-32 or the three planets that circled in the Crown system. They were all wrong.

  “We’re leaving Mars and heading back to Earth,” I said. “Take it slow this time, don’t lose the battlewagons.”

  There were a few cheers and a few groans. Those with adventurous dispositions were disappointed.

  Rumbold was among those who groaned. He was my helmsman and possibly my best friend. He was also an oldster, boasting a hundred and sixty years of extended life. He’d managed to prove during our previous voyages that he was still capable of piloting a starship past any obstacle.

  Oddly, despite his age, he still craved exploration and adventure. He didn’t relish battle, but he seemed to be bored by Earth. Perhaps, after another century and a half of existence, I’d find myself feeling the same way.

  “Earth?” he asked in a rumbling voice. “Really? What was the point of coming all the way out here then?”

  “We came out here to escort Iron Duke back to Earth. She’s got enough fighters aboard to be effective now, and she’ll serve at the core of this task force from now on.”

  “Who’s been given command of her?” he asked. He deftly guided Defiant with relatively gentle thrusts into a proper stance before applying the heavy acceleration it would require to escape Mars’ gravity well.

  “Admiral Halsey has taken personal command of the carrier,” I told him.

  Rumbold blew out his cheeks and mumbled something.

  “What’s that, helmsman?” I asked.

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “Please, enlighten us. Do you find Halsey to be a sub-standard commander?”

  His red-rimmed eyes slewed around and met mine. His mouth hung open for a moment.

  “No, no, nothing like that. Halsey’s a good officer, when he wants to be. I’m just irritated that we’ve been put on parade duty.”

  I frowned, not quite catching his meaning. The others on the deck were listening as well with frank curiosity.

  “Parade duty?” I asked. “How so?”

  “Don’t you see, sir? Why fly out Earth’s entire fleet all the way to Mars to collect this new ship? Why have all of us, flying in formation, return to Earth like a flock of baby ducks in their mother’s wake?”

  “Perhaps he wants us all to become acquainted with a new battle formation.”

  “Maybe, maybe… But think of how it looks, sir. Think of how the net vids will carry this all over Earth. Admiral Halsey will be returning home with the greatest ship ever built under his fine posterior, surrounded by these big shiny battleships. There won’t be a dry eye on the planet.”

  “Hmmm…” I said, thinking it over. “I do believe you might have a point, Rumbold.”

  “Damn straight I do. If there’s anything the brass is really good for, it’s grandstanding. Now, back in my day—”

  “That’s sufficient commentary, pilot. Carry on.”

  Muttering a few more inaudible thoughts, he did as I’d ordered.

  -5-

  Less than a month after we’d set off, we returned to Earth and slid into a low orbit. The task force was clustered around Araminta Station, dwarfing the orbital structure. The star carrier alone was nearly as bulky as the station.

  Waiting our turn to dock, we eventually disembarked and found the place thronged with naval personnel. Many of them seemed fresh from boot camp—which they were.

  Star Guard had undergone a transformation. Not only was the organization fully funded for the first time in a century, the service was now the beneficiary of a recruiting drive.

  Some of the new sailors were veterans from Star Guard’s police forces on Earth, summoned back to active duty due to their specialized skill set. A fair number of these people were experienced spacers. But most of them were raw recruits, fresh faces. They were young men and women who’d joined up out of a sense of patriotism or simply to expand their wallets.

  The Guard’s pay rates, all the way down to the level of those who bore a single stripe, had more than doubled. That simple fact had counterbalanced the grumbling of the oldsters about the snot-noses they were now surrounded by.

  “They’re not the best,” Rumbold said as he walked laboriously at my side, “but at least there are a lot of them.”

  “They have the energy of youth,” I said. “They’re anxious to get out there to the stars.”

  “Damned fools, the lot of them,” he muttered. “God bless them and keep them all.”

  I hadn’t seen Admiral Halsey in person since we’d left Earth, and I’d had precious little contact with him during our trip to Mars. It had come as no surprise I’d been ordered to meet with him in his office upon arriving back home at Araminta Station.

  After buying Rumbold lunch, during which he polished off two beers in my honor, I took my leave of him and headed to Halsey’s office.

  There were subtle improvements to be seen even from outside his suite. The doors were more ornate, run through with filigreed platinum and punctuated with starbursts of gleaming gold. I had to wonder if these improvements had come from his own salary or the general fund. I suspected it was the latter.

  Inside, the secretary primly escorted me to yet another door and swept it open—an entirely unnecessary gesture. It was formal and courteous, however, so I bowed slightly to her before proceeding farther into the Admiral’s lair.

  There, in the innermost sanctum, the Admiral sat at his desk. He was in an uncharacteristically good mood and greeted me with enthusiasm.

  “Sparhawk! Come in, good man. I hope all’s well with you and yours.”

  “It is, sir,” I said, stepping onto a lush royal-blue carpet. The gravity was light on the station, but I sank into the soft rug nonetheless. “May I say, you’ve upgraded this place quite tastefully.”

  “I have indeed. Finally, at long last, Earth sees the benefit of the Guard. Good to be the first in line at the budget troughs when they’re full, isn’t it?”

  “As long as our odds of victory improve, there’s no expenditure I would vote against.”

  Halsey paused. His grin faded somewhat.

  “There’s that prissy attitude of yours again, rearing its accountant’s head. Don’t you think we should be enjoying things a little? Don’t you think seeing their admiral treated appropriately for his rank improves the morale of our spacers?”

  “I’m sure there are incalculable benefits,” I said with deliberate vagueness.

  He muttered something, then stood up and came around his desk to give me a hearty handshake.

  “Well, let’s forget about all that. Years under the pen
ny-pinching Guard of the past has no doubt warped your thinking. Miserly reactions are only to be expected until our people unlearn such conditioning.”

  Feeling by no means miserly, I felt my mouth opening to object, but then I thought the better of it and clamped my jaw shut. What was the point? It wasn’t as if the admiral was going to sell his massive desk or his engravings and buy additional plasma cannons with the proceeds. Pursuing an argument at this point was counterproductive, so I merely nodded and smiled as I shook his hand in return.

  “I’ve done a lot of thinking about our first foray into space,” Halsey said, “that’s why I brought you here.”

  “Excellent. What’s the plan to retake our colonies, sir?”

  He waved toward a massive window of lead-impregnated glass. Outside, the cosmos glittered with cold light.

  “We’re flying into the unknown very soon now, Captain. I’ll be flying with Iron Duke at the center of the formation. She’ll be my flagship.”

  I nodded, having gathered that much.

  “First, we’ll visit Gliese-32 as you did. We’ll refuel there and impress them with the might of our fleet. Moving on, we’ll eventually recapture the Crown system. Those poor people will be freed from the raids of the Stroj forever. After that, we’ll head for the enemy strongholds and destroy them.”

  Far less confident than he was that such glorious things could be achieved, I nodded regardless. The brass had seen fit to risk everything on a single cast of the dice. To attack, rather than defend. Was it arrogance and hubris, or a wise stratagem? I wasn’t certain.

  “Will you be taking all seven battleships, sir?”

  “Absolutely. There will be a large number of smaller support ships in our wake as well—many of them newly built.”

  “What of Defiant?”

  He stepped to my side and put an arm up to touch my shoulder. This act surprised me, as he rarely came so close to subordinates.

  Lowering his voice, he spoke to me as we gazed out the window at the ships gently floating at anchor around Araminta Station.