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Rika Conqueror

Page 17

by M. D. Cooper


  Using Wieck’s intelligence network, the Marauders had learned much about the movements of many high-ranking Nietzschean officials in the system, but they’d not been able to access anything that hinted at the emperor’s schedule, or what sort of protections he had at Casa Mons.

  Leslie was of the opinion that Rika should simply bring the Fury Lance into low orbit over the emperor’s residence and rain nukes on it until the mountain was a crater. Rika had argued that they needed to strike in a way that it would be clear that the emperor had been killed by Genevians. Preferably a method that left them with an identifiable body.

  Her reverie was interrupted by cheers from the room below, as the main holodisplays reported that the ship was moving under its own power. It was just a fractional burn, but it was the first one the ship had ever made without tugs attached to the hull to steady it.

  The Pinnacle moved to a higher orbit and began to unfold its additional hulls, then fired its engines again, all of the balance indicators staying well within acceptable parameters. Another round of cheers came from the engineers.

  Following that burn, the engines shut down, and the ship drifted for a few minutes while the teams below reviewed data and ran diagnostics, ensuring that nothing untoward had been missed.

  * * * * *

  “Holy shit, Jeremy,” Murel said as she clamped a hand on his shoulder, raw glee evident in her voice. “It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Stars, the Pinnacle performed better than in the sims! We’re going to get commendations for this.”

  “We’re not over the hump yet,” Jeremy replied, trying not to cringe at the Nietzschean woman’s touch. “We’ve still several more burns to do.” He gestured at the pre-plotted course. “Once we make it out past the half-AU marker, then I’ll be ready to jump for joy.”

  “Stars, Jere,” Annie said from his left. “You did it! You figured out what the fleet design engineers back at Pruzia couldn’t. You’ve made this bird soar!”

  Jeremy gave Murel a mollifying look. “A lot of people were involved in this. It was a team effort.”

  Murel laughed as she looked up at the holo. “You be sure to tell them that when they ask, Jere.” The engineering chief glanced around at her teams. “OK, people, let’s get ready to do burn config two! We’ve got an emperor to impress!”

  * * * * *

  Niki reported to Rika as she finally reached the entrance to the network datastore.

  Rika replied with a laugh.

 

 

  Niki asked.

  Rika decided to ignore her AI’s jibe and reached out to Keli and Kelly.

  Kelly said.

 

  Keli corrected.

 

  Kelly began.

  Rika’s voice was deadly calm.

  She could have sworn that she heard Kelly gulp.

 

 

  Rika groaned.

  Keli and Kelly sent non-verbal acknowledgements, for which Rika was glad, and she set to the task.

  Niki asked as Rika carefully infiltrated the door’s locking mechanism, looking for responses that would tell her which hardware and software versions it was running.

 

 

  Rika held back a sigh.

 

  Niki’s argument made sense, and matched Kelly’s behavior well.

 

 

  Rika was momentarily flabbergasted by the question and lost her concentration, nearly tripping an alarmed system inside the door. She pulled back from that route and tried another.

  the AI reiterated.

 

  Niki said.

  Rika rose and took a deep breath, wishing Niki hadn’t picked that time to dig into her feelings on leadership.

 

 

 

  Rika called out.

  Kelly said with an uncharacteristic formality to her voice.

  The words ‘Kelly, shut up’ rose in Rika’s mind once more, but she quashed them down and sent a simple acknowledgement before moving into the datastore and closing the door.

  The room was cool, not that the chill in the air bothered her, and stretched for dozens of meters in every direction. Every two meters, a tower rose out of the deck, laden with mounts holding either rewritable storage systems, or immutable crystal storage.

  Rika said.

  Niki advised.

  Rika nodded absently as she moved to a console that stood several meters into the chamber. She connected her hard-Link cable to it, diving into the network, sifting through the endless information within, navigating through the Nietzschean data architecture.

  Niki prompted.

  Rika asked.

 

  Rika grunted in agreement as she traversed a datamatrix filled with thousands of entries for NSAI comm systems, looking for the one they wanted to update.

 

 

  Rika replied as she foun
d a promising entry, only to realize it was for a comm NSAI only used in shuttles.

 

 

  Niki asked.

  Niki’s statement pulled Rika out of her search, and she opened her eyes, looking around the room, a shuddering breath passing her lips.

 

 

  An idea occurred to Rika, and she sent Niki a grin in her mind.

  All humor was gone from the AI’s tone.

 

 

  Rika snorted.

 

  She knew what Niki meant, but try as she might, Rika couldn’t think of anyone—barring Tremon. Of course, he didn’t want the job, and there was a strong possibility that the people would outright reject him.

  Niki said.

  Rika considered that mindset and found herself nodding in agreement. It was the same sort of mentality she had with her mechs. She didn’t think that she was the perfect commander for her Marauders, she was just the best they had available at the time.

  Of course, her suitability for that position was bolstered by the fact that her mechs seemed to idolize her.

 

 

  A column ten meters away was highlighted on Rika’s vision, and she let out a sigh.

 

 

 

  Niki said, laughing softly in Rika’s mind.

 

 

  * * * * *

  Constantine purposefully allowed a smug smile to form on his lips as he glanced at Garza. The Pinnacle was just thirty seconds from completing its full-thrust burn, and the ship was performing flawlessly.

  Prior to the day’s events, the emperor had spent some time reviewing the specs from Orion, and he could see that the Pinnacle was on the cusp of outperforming the optimal numbers from the original designers.

  It was just more proof that Orion was old, spineless, and weak. Once Garza’s people no longer possessed a technological advantage that they only held due to centuries of hiding, they would fall to Nietzschea.

  It was inevitable.

  “You’re to be congratulated,” Garza said when he caught Constantine’s eye. “I’m impressed. Putting our faith in Nietzschea was not a mistake.”

  Though the words were meant to sound complimentary, Constantine could hear the insults in them. Everything was either a near slight, or cleverly worded non-praise. It was almost as though Garza were goading the emperor to take some sort of action against him.

  For a moment, Constantine considered it. The room was lined with his guards, and though a few members of the admiralty had been swayed by Garza’s charm and promises, the vast majority placed their fealty in the right place.

  He could snap his fingers, and the man would be dead.

  Not yet, he cautioned himself, willing his ire to fade away. Not until the jump gates are operational and under Nietzschean control.

  “Congratulations, My Emperor!” Admiral Hammond called out a minute later as the ship completed its trials. He brought his hands together, starting a round of applause. “The Pinnacle is the perfect warship! Fleets of these mighty vessels will crush our enemies. The Might of Nietzschea will spread across the stars.”

  Constantine inclined his head a centimeter, acknowledging the compliment before he turned to those assembled.

  “You’ve done well. Continue to serve the empire with such fervor, and we will soon stretch across the Orion Arm. In just a month, we’ll begin our assault on Septhia. When they see waves of Nietzschean ships in their skies, they’ll rue the day they ever joined the Scipian Alliance.”

  A cheer came from those assembled, and while it was still sounding around him, Constantine strode from the viewing chamber, Admiral Hammond keeping pace a step behind.

 

 

  Constantine smiled, basking in the glow of success—until he realized that Garza was following behind. The man didn’t speak, but even his presence put a damper on the emperor’s joy.

  Stars, can the man not leave me alone for one minute?!

  He resolved that once he returned to Casa Mons, he would summon Danella and begin the transfer to his new body. He no longer cared if a hair follicle was out of place; a few miniscule imperfections would be worth it if he could free himself of the general’s dominion.

  “Garza,” Constantine asked, not bothering to look over his shoulder. “Now that the fleet’s construction is back on schedule, will the gates finally be completed? I grow vexed that I’ve invested all this effort in building a great fleet that will take half a year to reach its targets without those gates. Need I remind you that we’re following your plan to make a simultaneous strike across the entire Septhian Alliance?”

  “I’ve not forgotten that,” Garza replied. “They’ll be completed within the week. It’s no small thing to set up a hundred gates in secret, but my engineers are on schedule.”

  Constantine wondered about that. From what he understood, the enemy built their gate components elsewhere and shipped them to their destination, where they only needed to be assembled. Spies who had recently returned from Thebes confirmed this.

  In short, the Transcend could build gates in hours, not months. The only thing that explained Garza’s delay was that either Orion’s gate manufacturing site had suffered some sort of delay, or the general’s engineers were actually building them from scratch within the Genevia system.

  Both seemed hard to believe, but it was what the evidence suggested.

  He didn’t press the general further as they walked through the station, losing himself in thoughts of the dominion that would be his with the jump gates.

  So deep was Constantine in his thoughts of conquest, that when Hammond first called out for him to drop, he didn’t even realize the cry had been directed at him.

  Then something struck the emperor in the back, and he slammed his face into the side of a decorative fountain.

  “Stay down, My Emperor,” a voice said next to his
ear, and he recognized it as belonging to one of his personal guards.

  The sounds of weapons fire echoed all around for nearly a minute, punctuated by shouts and screams, until all at once, they stopped and the guard rose, extending a hand that Constantine ignored as he climbed back to his feet.

  He glanced at Admiral Hammond, who was standing several meters away, chest heaving and pistol in hand. He followed the admiral’s gaze and his mouth fell open as he saw a figure writhing in an a-grav suspension field.

  “A Genevian mech?” he asked, shocked to see one of his old enemy’s killing machines up close and personal. “How did it get here?”

  A laugh came from his left, and Constantine’s head whipped around to see General Garza chuckling as he approached the mech.

  “I lured it; that’s how it got here. Constantine,” the general gestured at the woman, who had grown very still at his words. “Say hello to one of Tangel’s little pets—a mech named Rika.”

  * * * * *

  Fifteen minutes prior….

  Rika stepped back from the data storage column, nodding with satisfaction that the crystal appeared to be completely unaltered.

  Niki confirmed.

  Rika commented.

  the AI asked.

  Rika replied with a laugh.

  She returned to the console near the entrance and confirmed that it was in the state she’d found it, and then locked the terminal down.

  she asked Kelly and Keli.

  Kelly asked.

  Rika sent her friend a sour-looking expression and then laughed.

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