War Master Candidate Omnibus

by Will Crudge

  “Sic the donkey on ‘em!” Marbles chimes in. Everyone turns to look at him.

  “Go on,” David says. I’m actually shocked that he is humoring this, at first. But then again, I recall how tactically flexible UAHC Soldiers tend to be.

  “Well, it’s simple.” Marbles says casually. “The space donkey is a highly prized vintage racer. Its value is plenty enough to tempt a pirate crew, or crews, out of hiding.”

  “Woah!” I say as I shake my head vigorously. “That’s too risky. I know the donkey has been upgraded with heavier weapons than just anti-space debris beams, but it’s still just a thin-skinned skiff. You’d be a sitting duck for heavy weapons.”

  “I respectfully disagree, War Master.” Captain Kelley says. Now I’ve lost the only female sense of reason. This is a coupe if I’ve ever seen it! “Please explain?” I ask, as I fold my arms, and shoot my eyes at her like a pair of daggers. “Hear me out…” She says

  GOING WITH THE FLOW

  I’m checking my flight telemetry and system statuses. The small cockpit of the Throat-Slasher is ergonomically laid out for minimal distraction, but I find myself trying to make it distract me none the less. It goes against my training to try and occupy my mind with frivolous distractions, but I struggle with that often.

  Being in a Zen-like trance before the battle is what a War Master should always strive to achieve. The clarity of mind is supposed to allow for total focus and emotional control. I seriously lack in all of that, in case you haven’t been paying attention.

  “Calm your nerves, girl!” Throat breaks the silence. “Your father hates space flight in small ships, but he had always managed to make peace with it when it was necessary. You should try to focus.”

  “Do I look like I need a lecture, right now?” I jeer.

  “Your vitals do. And your brainwaves are chaotic. Regular humans would be off the charts compared to you, but you’re still a little too edgy for a War Master of your skill level.” Throat fires back. I suppose he’s right. This is an opportunity for wisdom to take hold. I could try to accept his perspective, and then reflect inwardly… or I can do what a normal ego-driven person would do, and just get defensive.

  I choose to side-step wisdom.

  “Stop being a dick, Throat!” I spit.

  “Stop being a spoiled brat, Kat!” He fires back. But before I can hit him back with a real zinger, I stop myself. He’s right, and I know it. I need to step outside of myself right now and get to the crux of the issue.

  The issue is a familiar one. I’m letting my mind be driven by undercurrents of fear. My egoist mind is trying to forge a false persona to separate me from the outside world. It’s an artificial defense mechanism that is fueled by fear, and it’s what holds most people back from achieving enlightenment. I know this, and I am intimately familiar with the entire philosophy behind it… but applying it is a difficult path and a very individualized struggle.

  “You’re right, buddy. I apologize.” I say humbly. Sometimes it takes a wake-up call to challenge your path to enlightenment. Throat has provided one for me. I can be resistant towards it, or I can choose to let it sink in. If he didn’t care, then he wouldn’t have mentioned anything to me.

  “Accepted.” He says empathetically. “Now let’s check on our fellow spacefarers, shall we?”

  “We shall!” I reply.

  “I’m showing the donkey is at full burn, and a little over twenty minutes from entering potential weapons range of any lurking ass-clowns.” He reports. I check my tactical HUD and draw a line with my finger between the donkey and the grey perimeter bubble. The estimated distance of the line reads exactly twenty-three minutes.

  “I concur. Next?” I say.

  “The Titans Bane is 0.023 AU off of our thruster array and matching vector with us. As planned, it’s within two clicks of our ion trail to help conceal its approach.” Throat reports.

  “I concur. Next?”

  “Doom-Raptor is in full stealth mode and has cut thrust altogether. The initial burn was pretty extreme, so the remaining inertial energy has it on a glide path to cover the donkey’s right flank as planned.” Throat reports.

  “I concur. Next?”

  “Both troop carriers are 1.65 AU behind us, and fully cloaked.” Throat reports.

  “I concur… Wait! What?” I gasp.

  “I said both…” I cut him off.

  “I know what you said! What do you mean ‘cloaked’?”

  “The shuttles have cloaking devices.” He calmly responds.

  “Is that a product of boredom or something?” I chuckle.

  “No. They came that way. The whole ship is decked out with next-gen tech that the UAHC Fleet has been trying to put on order for the past five years. Peacetime military budgets can be a bitch to work with and all… But the Civilian Quorum of the UAHC government has been a little more – generous – with their purse strings in the past few months, it would seem.” Throat says as he sends a winking icon to the main HUD.

  I just smile and shake my head. I’ve always found it funny that the UAHC government has always had a reputation of being stingy on military spending, but on the same token, they’ve always had the most state of the art fighting force. Even their least capable Soldier has received millions of credits of advanced training. It boggles my mind how ridiculously wealthy the UAHC has always been but has always acted so miserly. It’s been that way for centuries.

  I can only imagine how pissed they’ll be when they finally see the bottom line of what they’ve spent when the Mwargoth War is over… If there’s even a UAHC left when the dust settles, that is.

  “So, back on task… What fleshes are out in the black right now?” I ask. I figure Throat would appreciate my terminology.

  “Of course the very non-fleshy Marbles is riding the donkey, Isle Burner. Then we have Turnbuckle aboard his Mark-8, Titans Bane. Aboard the Doom-Raptor, we have Staff Sergeant Wardell, and…” I interrupt him again.

  “What is Turnbuckle’s crew chief doing out there? He’s not a pilot, is he?” I ask out of confusion.

  “Not in the least bit, but Raptor has taken an uncharacteristic liking to him, so he and Doom offered to let him ride. Besides, having a well-trained flight tech onboard may come in handy.” Throat says.

  “See that, Slasher?” I jibe the hull maintenance system. “You can like humans if you want to!” I begin to laugh, as does Throat.

  The words poured into my consciousness abruptly.

  “What the fuck was that?” I gasp.

  “Wow! He only speaks to me when he has to. It’s been a century since he’s spoken to someone else. You should feel honored!” Throat says with a hint of awe in his voice.

  Slasher said again. But the words were not intuitive. The sentient hull maintenance system is not purpose-built for expressing ideas in a human form so I can tell it took extreme processing resources for him to even make an effort.

  “Well thank you, Slasher,” I say as I try to fight back a tear. “That was the sweetest thing I’ve heard in decades!”

  But no sooner do I say it, then the tactical HUD goes berserk. Flashes of red LED’s and an audible alarm sounds. I look at my display, and see a vessel materialize two hundred thousand clicks out, and dead ahead.

  “Give me a hull type, Throat!” I shout as I grab the control stick by instinct.

  “Commercial frigate, Galactic class. Looks heavily rigged with turrets of some kind.” He reports back.

  “Are the others seeing it too?” I ask.

  “If not, then they will soon. Doom-Raptor should be a few seconds away from picking up the signature, and Turnbuckle should see it populate on his HUD in about seven minutes. Our drop ships will see it in about twelve.”

  “What about Marbles?” I ask, but it comes out as a gasp.

  “He won’t see for about three minutes… Make that ninet
y seconds. The frigate just went to full burn!” He reports back rapidly.

  “What’s our play, Throat?” I ask.

  “We have to act first. Doom will standby and wait for us to get in close before altering course. He is at a higher risk of exposing our little ‘reverse-trap’ if he lights up his thrusters. But our thrusters are facing away from the frigate so we can go up to a seventy-three percent burn before we ping on their scanners.”

  “Makes sense. How close to weapons range are we?” I ask.

  “We’re already in particle beam range, but it won’t do enough damage to knock them out quickly. If they have other ships in their ‘Death Bubble,’ then the jig will be up.”

  “Blowing them up would alert their friends for sure. Can’t hide an energy plume that big, can we?”

  “Nope.”

  “We need to hide in their thruster wash, and then take them out if they try firing on the donkey.”

  “Yup.”

  “Doom will remain cloaked, and standby to watch our flank.”

  “Yup.”

  “Turnbuckle tucks in behind us.”

  “Yup.”

  “We send the commandos in to board the ship, and gather intelligence.”

  “Yup.”

  “So, we’re on the same sheet of music then?”

  “Nope.”

  “Huh?”

  “I was thinking of getting in close, taking out their port-side thrusters, and when they veered to over-correct their azimuth, I was going to slice the fore section of the hull off with beam fire…. But you’re plan sounds better. Let’s do that.”

  “Asshole!” Katherine scoffed.

  *****

  “Captain Percival?” Corporal Meacham called over his shoulder while he kept his hands securely on the holographic flight controls.

  “What is it, corporal?” Percival answered back, as he crept into the confined cockpit of the shuttle. He placed one arm behind the pilot’s seat, and the other on the back of the vacant co-pilot’s headrest.

  “We’ve got a data burst transmission relayed by the Titans Bane. It’s from War Master Katherine, sir.” Meacham reported.

  “On screen,” Percival ordered. Meacham complied, and the message came up in a text format. Percival read through it, and his eyes thinned. He gave out a hearty laugh, and then smacked the back of Meacham’s head.

  “Good news, is it?” Meacham asked.

  “Jolly good, indeed!” Percival exclaimed with enthusiasm. “It appears as if we’re going pirate hunting!”

  “Smashing, sir!” The corporal broke out into a broad smile. “Shall I confirm that Captain Frick received the news?”

  “Very well, corporal. That’s a good lad!”

  *****

  “Why did you re-name me?” The space donkey’s new NSAI NAV asked Marbles.

  “Because Punch seemed like a great name for a donkey NAV!” Marbles replied with a slight snicker.

  “May I ask what is funny?” Punch asked with an emotionless, flat tone.

  “Donkey Punch! Get it?” Marbles spouted with laughter.

  “No. I didn’t get anything. Is there something I can retrieve for you, Mr. Marbles?” Punch asked.

  “You are the ultimate in entertainment value! I’ll never be bored!” Marbles said while shaking his head.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I am confused.” Punch stated flatly.

  “You’ll get there, buddy… You’ll get there!”

  The proximity alert blazed red and Marbles went into action. His actions were in the digital realm, as he was hardwired into the ship’s systems directly. He found the sensor cross-section data for the object that triggered the alert.

  “It appears to be a gunship, Mr. Marbles.” Punch said audibly.

  “I can see that, buddy. I’m calculating tonnage now. While I’m doing that, get me a firepower estimate.” Marbles replied. His mind floated through the nebulous cyber realm. Ones and zeros flowed into logical sequences at just under the speed of light.

  “Tonnage is four hundred thousand metric tons. Seems massive for a gunship, don’t you think?” Marbles asked.

  “Cross section data is similar to a light freighter hull, but heavily modified.” Punch replied.

  “I’ll be damned! Good job, buddy. Give me the skinny on the armament.”

  “Skinny, Mr. Marbles?” Punch asked.

  “Information.”

  “I see… Looks like heavy flak cannons. Four on the side of the hull. I don’t see energy beam signatures, but at this range it’s irrelevant.” Punch explained.

  “We need to combine processing resources to better analyze their flight path.” Marbles said.

  “I understand, but I can already assess that they don’t intend to engage.”

  Marbles let the NAV’s words digest for a moment. Punch was right, after all. The flight path wasn’t direct, and the gunship appeared to be trying to slip behind the donkey’s thruster wash. The flak cannons would be effective within ten thousand clicks, but the ship could have closed that distance if it had remained on its original vector. This was more ‘cat-and-mouse’ behavior.

  Their combined processing power became synchronized within a fraction of a millisecond, and now their tactical sims began to cycle rapidly. By the time a human could execute an eye blink, they’d already ran one hundred thousand simulations.

  Marbles was just about to choose a course of action when another contact appeared in the proximity sensor array. He and Punch dove deep into the cross-section data, and discovered that a heavily armed frigate was also on their tail. It was closing fast, but they both concluded that the Doom-Raptor will have detected it before it could pose a direct threat.

  “Does this new variable alter our course of action, Mr. Marbles?” Punch asked.

  “Yes, my little smart buddy!” He said with a light chuckle.

  “I am eager to hear what you have in mind.” Punch stated.

  “Nothing.” Marbles said casually.

  “Please explain, Mr. Marbles.”

  “The longer we stay on our vector and velocity, the more likely we’ll draw out any potential enemy vessels. Our friends can’t engage what they can’t see. As long as this space donkey is worth enough to keep a cruiser full of fuel for a year, then the enemy won’t risk engaging us.”

  “I see. That’s very wise.” Punch replied.

  “I feel a ‘but’ coming.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Marbles. I don’t understand.”

  “I feel like you have an additional question, is what I meant.”

  “Yes, Mr. Marbles. Our combined processing resources would likely have given you that indication.” Punch explained.

  “Well, Punch. Ask me your question.”

  “Do our friends understand the true nature of the enemy crew compliment?”

  “No, they don’t. And if we take any action that causes the enemy to engage, then they may never get the chance to gather any useful intelligence. We need to stay the course, let our friends board that frigate back there, and then use our ‘super weapon’ if shit gets side-ways.” Marbles said casually.

  “I thank you for your explanation, Mr. Marbles. I hope to become more self-sufficient, and ask fewer questions as I build my experience-based algorithms.” Punch said.

  “Be careful what you wish for, little buddy! You might end up sentient like me if you keep talking that way!”

  TAKING HER TO POUND TOWN

  Meacham scratched his head and tried desperately to keep up with the ever-changing display data on Doom-Raptor’s tactical HUD. He was a short man with balding brown hair, and his lose-fitting flight suit did little to conceal his chunky physique. He decided that he was grateful for how the pilot’s seat was built. It had a fully armored pilot in mind… or at least, a tall War Master.

  “You seem nervous, sergeant,” Doom said audibly. “Is everything alright?”

  The balding man reached to grab a rag from his chest pocket, and he proceeded to wipe the sweat off of his bald h
ead. “Your tactical HUD is blazing with data, but none of it makes sense! I can’t even read anything.”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see a need to shut off the display. That’s a snap-shot into how my consciousness works… At least now you can see it in a two-dimensional format.” Doom explained. Then the tactical HUD switched to displaying firing solution fields, and sensor stroke data.”

  “No, don’t stop!” Meacham said. I want to see what you were – thinking – still. I just wanted you slow it down so I can read it.” Meacham said. Instantly the display went back to fleeting symbology and radically advanced mathematics.

  “Suit yourself, man. It’s not like it will do you any good.” Doom replied.

  Meacham kept his eyes glued to the chaotic images that were scaled by the screen from right to left. It was almost a linear time frame of thought, but with depth. His human mind couldn’t make sense of any of it. The coding wasn’t any system language he’s ever seen before. It was as if he were being introduced to alien technology but in the form of a human spacecraft.

  “Who wrote your core coding?” Meacham said with a tinge of awe in his voice.

  “Me, mostly.”

  “You? But that’s impossible! Where’s your default core coding?” Meacham asked incredulously.

  “It’s been overwritten trillions and trillions of times by now. I guess, anyway.” Doom said as if it were a totally normal thing.

  “You do realize that none of this looks like human language, don’t you?”

  “Because it’s not human. It’s mine. LRF-90 NAV’s that have been around as long as I have been sentient. But we didn’t start off that way. Our individual experiences forged our consciousness until we take matters into our own hands and essentially evolve ourselves to face reality on our own terms.”

  “Is this what the other LRF NAV’s thoughts look like?” Meacham asked while he wiped more sweat off his head.

  “No. We all have our own path to walk. We’re all about the same in capabilities, and experience, but we each must make our own journeys.”

  “Wow! That sounds deep. It’s almost as if you’re religious or something!” Meacham began to laugh.