by Chris Hechtl
“What did you think of the sniper ship idea, Admiral?” Yao asked.
“I think someone was a little too desperate to see it work. Build a giant rail gun, wrap a ship the size of a battleship around it and then send it out to fight? Anyone heard of relativity? By the time you fired the target ship would have moved. And if you factored in ECM into the equation as well ...” he shook his head.
“That is pretty much what Commodore White said,” the birdman said.
“And you?”
“I got roped into the design but since it was compartmentalized I didn't know initially what I was signing off on.” the birdman admitted.
“But now you do. And?”
“And I think some of the ideas might work. I mean, they did it during the first Terran interstellar war right? So something about the concept works. They got it right.”
“A few times. Back then. But now?”
“Now no. Though I'd love to see the damn thing fire.”
“More like see its round hit,” the admiral teased.
“That too, sir,” the birdman chirped. “It'd bust up a planet a treat. The same for moons. So ...”
“So don't ask me,” the admiral said, voice changing slightly. “I know what you want, the answer is no.”
The birdman shook his head. “Thought so.”
“Yeah. Carry on, Lieutenant.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
...*...*...*...*...
The admiral could tell there was enthusiastic support for some of the ideas from some of the officers and noncoms. That was understandable, they wanted to see their ideas reach fruition, to be put into use. Just about everyone knew they were at a disadvantage, they thought their idea was the one that would win the war.
Irons stamped on such sentiments hard during a dinner with the senior officers. “We're not going to stay here. We're bringing everyone back to Antigua. We'll send a crew to salvage what we can later. We can't and won't support this facility. That is how it is.”
“Admiral ...”
“No. The idea of growing ships in orbital greenhouses is absurd,” Irons said, shaking his head. “Secondly, a majority of the ideas would require a great deal of time and resources to work out properly. We need weapons now. Not tomorrow, now. Finding that magic bullet isn't going to work. I'm sorry, no. We need to focus on minor incremental changes and improvements. Things that repair deficiencies in our fleet. It won't give us a lot of an advantage but some. We can build off that and work on some of these more tenable ideas when we have more time.”
“I see sir,” the commodore said in a strangled voice. Irons eyed him but took a sip of wine and let the other officer off the hook. He knew what he had said rankled with many of the officers but that was too bad. This wasn't about politics it was about reality and facing it.
When the dinner concluded he left the compartment. They had been quiet and reserved for the rest of the dinner. All the senior officers had declined desert and a nightcap. Fine, let them pout he thought.
“You were awesome tonight Mrs. Garrett,” he said to the cook. She fluttered her towel at him, making him smile. “Be careful they don't want to steal you away,” he teased.
“A me, to be loved at my age,” she said with a hint of whimsy in her voice. He chuckled. “Still, they aren't happy are they?”
“No. No their not,” he sighed.
“That's because a lot was riding on the bioship project,” Sprite explained.
“Oh?” the admiral asked as the steward retreated back into the pantry.
“I checked the signature on the project. It was the pet project of four flag officers. One of the proponents is Commodore Subert but the others had been rear Admiral Halsey, the last CNO before Sol fell, and Admiral N'karth, a Ynari.” Sprite reported.
“Lovely.”
“I don't know if politics are involved. I can't read too much between the lines. I am accessing the memos involved though, despite Ray's interference,” she stated. The admiral grunted. “Fortunately you downloaded a copy into your implants so I can access them that way,” she said. He fought a smile. “Apparently they got enough support to get the ball rolling but it was already too late in the war. When the Ynari fled that pulled out the support for the project. Critical expertise apparently,” Sprite reported.
...*...*...*...*...
“Okay, that bites. Everything we've worked for is going to be thrown away? Left in a computer database for who knows how long? If we're at this much of a disadvantage why not try something new?” Captain Lyon asked.
“There is something wrong with this man. He's not like the man that was here. He's changed,” Egon stated.
“I don't like some of what I have read about his past activities,” Winston said. “He needs to be called into account about them,” he said. “Leaving Pyrax like he did, Antigua ... the list goes on and on. He needs to be called into account,” the AI stated.
“I don't know ...” Commodore Subert murmured. He didn't like the full story on Pyrax. That didn't set well with him. When you threw in his retreat from Antigua ... yes it was troubling. The delay here ... His frown deepened.
“Sir, it needs to be done.”
“But by who? We're all that's left,” Captain Lyon said. “And he outranks us.”
“Well, someone has to,” Commander Howell stated. “Some of the things he has done ...” he shook his head. “I won't call him on the repeated borderline cowardice but ...”
“That's enough, Commander,” Captain Egon stated.
“I stand corrected, sir. I'll try to mind my manners,” the commander replied.
Commodore Subert crossed his arms as he tried to judge the opinion of all the officers around him. They wanted this, he could see it in their eyes.
“If not us then who, sir? We're all that's left,” Captain Lyon said softly.
“It may not be proper procedure but it must be done I suppose,” Ray said.
“If we do this, we do it the right way,” Commodore Subert stated.
“Phil!” Amadeus protested, eyes wide in shock. “You can't be serious!”
“I am,” Commodore Subert said with a firm nod. “We will call for an informal review board to go over the admiral's actions since he has woken to clear the air,” he stated. “We need to get this done now while we have the time.”
...*...*...*...*...
The interest in the Irons organic both prevented the Watcher and its host from using the research lab he had been reborn in for their own purposes, but it offered an opportunity. The Watcher used it's puppets to move the review forward quickly. The puppet Ray would monitor the Irons organic and his AI while an organic was dispatched with the paperwork. The delay to print it was annoying but inevitable. Hopefully the Irons organic wouldn't notice anything amiss in the lab while he waited.
...*...*...*...*...
When he finally got up the nerve, Irons put down the paperwork and explored the different labs. Starforge he knew about, that was where they had worked on the nova bomb. Santa's workshop brought a brief smile to his face. A favorite of his, he'd loved playing hooky in there as well as in Blacksmith. But what he was really after was the Trinity research lab. He saw the label on the double hatch door and sent a signal to allow him access. He wasn't sure what he would find, but he had to do it. If he didn't it would continue to eat at him.
“This has been what's driving you?” Sprite asked. “Eating you up some nights?”
“The dreams. Repressed memories I know,” the admiral said.
“Coming to the surface,” Sprite replied with an understanding nod.
“This is where it all started,” the admiral murmured, eying the tank he remembered waking in. He turned to the chairs nearby then away. There was no sign of the medics and staff that had worked in the room and adjoining rooms. They had all been cleaned and cleared of personal effects long ago.
“Yes.”
Only his brain was original. His body had been torn apart, first in combat then by the s
cientists. They'd woven in the nanites and implants into a cloned copy of his body, then transferred his brain into it.
Technically they could have given him an entire robotic body, he'd seen it before, but they had gone with just the obvious right arm and legs since he had been lost them before. His mind needed an anchor, needed the thought that he was still human. That was why he still had flesh. It kept him sane. It rooted him into this plane of existence.
The damnedest thing about it all was that he'd been a part of it. He'd signed off on it when it had been a series of concepts before the war. He'd helped with the tech. He'd never signed off on being the Guinea pig though. He understood their reasoning in choosing him. He didn't have to like it however. But ... he frowned thoughtfully. He'd done that to April back on Destiny hadn't he? He'd cared about her enough to save her life and then have her rebuilt. He shook his head, fingertips tracing the wall near the open hatch. There was a diagram there of a human body. He exhaled slowly as he looked at it. What was done was done.
Doctor Sumol'nk, Doctor Beir, Vanessa and Shelly the nurses ... where were they now? Where were the others involved? They were long gone now, they had left during the war.
Trinity, three AI in one, three micro AI cores a group of three separate AI who were also one. That had been the theory. He'd worked with Yao and the coders to create Proteus. He'd been field testing the prototype when he'd been critically injured in combat. He shook his head. Was that why he'd stayed sane? Kept his mind together when his body had been torn apart cell by cell? Or did they do something else to him? Drugs to keep him calm ... he frowned thoughtfully.
There was something else too. That statement the medics had made. Something about others. He didn't have the medical clearances at the time so he hadn't known more about the project, he'd just worked on some of the hardware and software. He hadn't known they had tried with others ... what happened to them?
“Why are you here again?” Ray asked querulously. “There is nothing here, just facilities,” he said.
“I need to know if there are more like me,” the admiral answered, entering the darkened room. He looked around. He'd expected ... something. A sense of coming home, a sense of wonder, something. Not just ... emptiness. This was just a room now. A room, yes, where he'd been reborn into what he was today, but in the end, just a room lost to history.
“You don't have a need to know, Admiral,” Ray said imperiously. “And I can't tell you even though you are senior officer present.”
“Wanna bet?” Irons asked mildly.
“What is that supposed to mean? Was that a threat, Admiral?” Ray asked as the hatch behind the admiral opened. Two mechs and a marine entered.
“Can I help you son? Are you lost? This is a restricted area,” the admiral said.
“Yes, sir. I was sent for you,” the marine said. “I'm to take you into custody, sir.”
“You are to do what?” Sprite demanded.
“Fleet Admiral John Henry Irons you are formally summoned to face a board of review by your peers for your past actions. Sorry, sir,” the marine said, handing the admiral a letter.
“A letter too. They are covering all the bases,” the admiral murmured. He didn't bother opening it, he could see through the plastic envelope to read the contents if he wanted. Not that he needed to, they just hit his inbox with the same notice as well as a notice that his access to the base was now restricted until the review board concluded and issued its findings.
“Well. I am rather curious as to who dreamed this bullshit up,” Sprite said. “Accessing, oh you've got to be kidding me.”
“Who?”
“Try all the senior officers, Admiral. From both commodores to the AI captains to Captain Lyon and Commander Howell.”
“So we don't know if one is behind this or all of them,” the admiral said. “I either stepped on some toes or they decided I needed to be removed for other reasons.” The Marine looked uncomfortable. The admiral eyed him for a moment then cocked his head. “Something to say son?”
The Marine squirmed then looked at the robots behind him. “Sir, your access is restricted. Captain Egon has ...” He turned troubled eyes on the admiral.
“Has ordered you to leave the compartment,” Ray finished. “Sorry, sir.”
“Someone ought to be,” Sprite growled. “Or will when the dust settles,” she snarled. “This is total fracken bull. A monumental waste of time.”
“Well then,” the admiral said, adjusting the hem on his jacket. “Let's get this farce over with shall we?”
Chapter 37
“For the record, I'm going to act as your counsel, Admiral,” Sprite said. “Someone has to,” she said, eying Defender.
The admiral realized Sprite was clearly pissed. He shook his head. So much for an AI staying cool. Either she had her emotional module up too high or she just didn't care. Or she was acting this way in his defense to help him vent. “A power play, that is what this is. They want you out of the picture. I should have seen this fracken coming,” she growled.
“Why didn't you?” the admiral asked mildly. He looked over to the marine guarding them in the waiting room and then back to Sprite on his HUD. They were having the conversation internally, which meant the AI monitoring the room couldn't tap into the conversation. They had tried, but Sprite and Defender had both rebuffed their efforts.
“Because they played territorial games and kept me out of the station net. I didn't see it,” she growled.
“Ah.”
“No offense, Admiral, but you could have backed me, even a little. I know you are trying to delegate, go the hands off approach, but there is a case of too much,” she said. “Case in point.”
“True,” the admiral replied. “I don't think they gamed this out fully. And I don't think they are going to like where it is going to lead.”
“Oh?”
“Unfortunately I need them. We need them. But I am going to take them out once they get whatever they want off their chest. A good airing out is needed I suppose.”
“If you say so sir. Frankly I'd rather take them all to the woodshed,” Sprite said.
The admiral's lips quivered in a not quite smile. “You may get to see it yet, Commander,” he said.
“Oh goody,” Sprite replied, voice rich in satisfaction.
...*...*...*...*...
“We had better get this over with soon, we've got a near mutiny on our hands,” Captain Lyon warned.
“Mutiny?” Commodore Subert asked in alarm. He glanced at Amadeus. The chimp was almost finished getting dressed.
“I know Captain Sampson is pissed. So are my marines. And the marine compliment on Xavier have been busy. Rumor has it that they've been checking out the armory and morgue on the ship.”
“You aren't serious!” Commodore Subert said in shock.
Captain Lyon nodded. “People idolize the admiral.”
“Order them to stand down,” Commander Howell stated.
“They haven't done anything yet. I'm trying to keep a lid on things. I know Lieutenant Wong and Chief Quigon are trying to do so as well but they aren't trying very hard,” the captain said, shaking his head. Phil scowled and glanced at Olaf. Olaf had probably pushed their interrogations a little too vigorously than warranted and they were reacting to that. Or they were not helping out of a sense of loyalty to the admiral. He made a note to discuss it with them later.
“Still, they have to follow orders ...”
“Like we did arresting Admiral Irons?” Amadeus asked. “I knew this was a bad idea. It's blowing up in our face.”
“It hasn't yet,” Egon stated. “For the record, he hasn't been arrested, just detained and in custody pending the review. I am monitoring the situation.”
“As am I,” Winston said. Commander Howell nodded as well. “But we need to get this done and over with quickly. It has to be public as well.”
“That's not going to go over well.”
“No. You better hope the admiral doesn't stall f
or time. If he does things could boil over quickly,” the Marine warned.
“We're not ready,” Phil said, shaking his head. “I thought we'd have a day or so to prepare for the next step. Give him time to consider his actions.”
“Then we should never have done this in the first place,” Amadeus said in resignation. “Shoot from the hip; that is all we can do. A court room is a crucible where we get to the truth.”
“Let's get this over with then. And someone please make it clear this isn't personal,” Phil said.
“It's not?” Amadeus asked. The others paused to look at the chimp. “Hey, I didn't get my toes stepped on by the man. You did. You've all been in a huff because he's been shooting down your ideas. And he's been on your ass to investigate Jarol's death. How is that coming by the way?” the chimp asked mildly, looking at Commander Howell.
Howell scowled, worked his jaw but didn't answer.
“Yeah, that's what I thought. Come on, let's go get this over with. The sooner we do, the sooner we can face our lumps. The good news is I don't think he'll fire all of us.”
“Crap,” Captain Lyon muttered as they filed into the wardroom.
...*...*...*...*...
“Admiral, this is an informal review of your actions over the past several years since you woke from stasis. This is however on the record,” Captain Egon stated. “Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” the admiral replied.
“Let the record reflect that Fleet Admiral Irons stated he understood the parameters of this proceeding. Let us begin.” He nodded to Commodore Subert who rapped his gavel once for them to be seated.
“Funny how this is an informal proceeding yet they have a formal record,” Sprite said to the admiral through his implants as the admiral took his seat.
“I thought we would be convening this in regards to Admiral Halsey's murder. I am curious as to why you think this is needed,” the admiral said as he settled into his when the senior officers had also settled down. They were lined up on one side of the long table. He was sitting at a small table away from them, facing them. As senior most officer Commodore Subert was at the center. Commodore White was to his right, Captain Lyon to his left. Captain Egon and the other AI's avatars were on the flanks of the senior officers. Commander Howell was acting as prosecutor, which was odd since this was a review board, not a formal inquiry.