The Stars Came Back
Page 37
On the main screen appears: Not like. TRUST.
They all look at the words, rapidly pondering the implications.
Those words blink away. In their place briefly appears: Creative. Thoughtful. Familial. Resourceful. No uniform.
Lag: Ahhh… you just got promoted to CinCMOP.
Helton: Say again?
Lag: CinCMOp; Civilian in Charge of Military Operations. (Crisply) AARAS display, please.
The display reappears on the screen.
Lag: (To Farber) Major, this is a decommissioned, experimental mil-surp ship, I can brief you on relevant details later. (To Helton) However unlikely it may be, some of the original military AI programming appears to have survived. I believe it is demanding civilian control of primary decision making aboard. You appear to be that lawful, trustworthy, civilian authority it recognizes. (Gestures to AARAS) The data displayed here could only be captured and generated by high-end, even military-grade, hardware and software. Looking at the defensive firing, there appears to be some quality gunnery control remaining as well. Look, we don’t have much time, so I’ll keep this short. We are surrounded and have orbital platforms above. There is no place to slip out in retreat. They think we are obliterated, but they are professional enough to verify before moving on to attack the next base with the same method. That kink in paths we saw indicates prohibited terminal guidance munitions, making them in violation of the combat contract, so we can now do anything we want and use any weapons we have-
Helton: Which right now ain't SHIT!
Lag: Which right now are a couple of missiles, and we can secure the remaining APC on the ramp and use its gun. The armor on this ship has demonstrated it’s good enough to stop all but the biggest they’ve got, and if we attack the surprise will be-
Helton: We can barely fly, and you want to attack?
Lag: That kink in the trajectory… (points to it in the AARAS display) everything was going everywhere, then suddenly, just before our guns opened up when the ship AI took over, suddenly they went from targeting almost entirely the other equipment and personnel and bunkers, they were redirected en masse toward this ship, where they impacted without effect. I think the ship flashed them a big “Shoot ME” sign, and they all retargeted. The ship knew the armor was tough enough. Nearly a thousand incoming rounds, and we only have six dead and a handful of wounded. All the big stuff got shot down midair. No one aboard this ship was hurt.
Helton: But we can’t just fly through them, and your plan is to attack a battalion with an APC tied to the front ramp?!
Lag: (Grinning) Never underestimate the value of being on the right side of the chaos! Yes, it’s risky, but the options are all bad. Sit here, get shelled again the same way, but without the defensive guns. Fly high, we get hit by heavy SAMs or orbitals. If we make an active attack on… (points to one of the three enemy bases in the AARAS diagram) here, we can fly low and sneak away from the drones, through these badlands, hit them, then (crisply, to the ship) zoom out, pan north to next fire-base (the AARAS shows the next friendly base past the one they’d attack through) and pick up any survivors there, then return to base for any needed repair work and drop off casualties. If we go that route, I’ll absolutely press for the main depot to do everything they can to help refit this ship as best they possibly can, making getting some of the more, ah, regulated, parts rather easier. You have my word on that.
Helton looks at him skeptically.
Lag: I think with the right leverage, I can make the depot commander understand the value of a civilian-registered ship of this ship’s capabilities being available to us from time to time.
Helton looks calculatingly around the bridge for a moment, looks at the countdown (now at 8:03), the AARAS, looks at Lag, rubs his chin.
Helton: Well, shit. It’s gonna make riding a hopped up buffalo covered in fun-lube look easy, but I guess it’s time to cue up the epic music, strap on a new hood ornament, and go play Hero.
Helton: (Into mic) Stenson! How soon can we get her spun up?
Stenson: (OC) Not sure. 15 or so, still.
Helton: We’ll be dead by then!
Stenson: Unless you have a miracle in your pocket, or they didn’t wind down after landing like I told them to…
Helton: I guess we’ll see what happens when I light her up in seven minutes.
Quiritis, talking constantly, quietly, and fast in the background during this exchange, starts talking even faster going through her checklists.
FADE TO BLACK
On a prayer
FADE IN
INT - DAY - Tajemnica’s Bridge
The screen countdown shows 00:39, 00:38.
Everyone in the bridge is seated and strapped in. Helton looks at his checklist book, still only half completed, in front of him.
Helton: (Disgustedly) Crap! Taj, initiate main drive for liftoff!
Quiritis sets down her checklist and takes the yoke, ready for anything.
Ship AI: (OC calm female) A preflight checklist must be completed before lifting.
Helton: What good is!?… Damn!…
Helton stares blankly at the screen for a moment in frustration.
The bridge is silent as people look at him wondering what’s he’s going to do.
Helton: Taj… does it have to be any particular preflight checklist?
Ship AI: (OC) Preflight checklist must be owner and commander approved.
Helton grabs a pen from his pocket, and scribbles on the back of the regular checklist for a moment. He holds it up to a computer screen/cam for a moment for the ship to see (no one else can see it)
Helton: New preflight checklist for this trip, approved by myself as owner and commander!
Ship AI: (OC, normal male voice, sounding doubtful) …Abbreviated nature of it noted, but… Approved.
Helton: (Grabbing mic to address ship) Listen up, everyone. Pray as if your life depends on it that everything works when we light ‘er up! It does. You have ten seconds.
CUT TO
Cargo bay
Gear and supplies have been tossed haphazardly around, and the crowd of soldiers from the firebase are getting final, last-second things secured or onboard, and some are just holding on to tie-downs or whatever is handy in preparation for liftoff. They look at one another for a moment, a little confused and more than a little worried.
Soldier1: (To the air/sergeant off screen) What about atheists?
Soldier2: (OC, sincerely) Pray there’s no god up there ignoring the rest of us!
Soldier1 looks to another soldier nearby and shrugs and everyone in the bay can be seen looking up, down, crossing themselves, closing eyes, or whatever, in silent prayer for a few moments.
CUT TO
Bridge
The bridge is silent, saying or finishing hurried prayers. Everyone watches as Helton flips a protected toggle master switch. Silence… then a whining rumble starts up and a string of readouts pops up level indicators that are mostly green.
Helton: (Grinning) Let’s see what the offensive team looks like.
CUT TO
Engineering
Stenson is looking at the readouts, mostly in the green. He smiles.
Stenson: (Talking quietly, almost to himself) I didn’t think you could get these old beasts back on line so fast yet. You were lying to me, didn’t shut them down all the way, did you? Smart AI; keep the engines hot in a combat zone, even if I tell you to shut ‘em down to check… Either that, or I need to reschedule my Sunday card game.
CUT TO
EXT - DAY - Outside Tajemnica, low, wide angle, looking toward the lowered ramp
The ship slowly lifts, amid the smoking ruins of the base, as one last soldier tosses a last bag of gear on the lowered ramp and leaps aboard. The stern ramp slowly starts to close. Tajemnica lifts at a slightly odd angle as if limping, rotates a bit, angles up slightly, and heads north with increasing speed, just far enough above the ground to not kick up dust. It starts retracting landing struts, all but one.
FADE OUT
Meeting Taj
FADE IN
EXT - DAY - On the plain not far from the badlands
View is low angle, watching the speeding ship approach and race by, one landing gear strut still stubbornly hanging down, partially extended.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Cargo bay
Soldiers secure the APC on the front ramp. Others are handing up more ammo to soldiers on top, getting it into the hatch, and tying gear down. Others are clearing out the disorganized heaps around the cargo bay, carrying it away through side hatches.
BaseSoldier3: (To BaseSoldier4) I thought we were doing some crazy stuff before, but this…
BaseSoldier4: Hey, at least we have a chance to do something. (The ship shakes and lurches, causing everyone to jump a little, hold on, and look around cautiously) As long as this thing keeps flying.
BaseSoldier3: I hear this thing is older than the old man.
BaseSoldier4: Hell, I heard it’s pre-blackout!
BaseSoldier3: (Derisively) Nah, you’re cracked! Nothing can fly that long!
CUT TO
Bridge
Lag and Helton look over an exaggerated elevation graphic of the topography with an overlay of the known enemy positions. To the south, a couple of dots for the drones move slowly toward the abandoned base. There are badlands ahead, with several paths through them that might get them close to the enemy base.
Lag: At this speed, it’s going to be tough. If we can wiggle through there (pointing to a path) that’s a bit longer, but we’ll come out of the valley closer. But those are sharp canyons.
His brow furrows as he weighs possibilities and outcomes. As Helton looks at the map, he rubs the control board in front of him almost absentmindedly.
Helton: (Quietly) Come on, Taj. Show us some of what you used to have that made you famous; kick on the emergency combat full power.
Ship AI: (OC) Is that a direct order, sir?
Helton: Huh? What?
Ship AI: (OC) Is going to emergency combat max power a direct order, sir, even if it causes damage?
Helton: Sure, yeah, HELL YES!
The background noise fades to barely audible hum.
Ship AI: (OC, wistful, quiet voice) Are we allowed to win, this time?
Glances are exchanged wondering what exactly that means.
Helton: I was just hoping we’d survive, but yes. Yes. Winning is a good plan.
All the screens on the bridge flicker, dance, resolve. The whine of the engine drops an octave and then picks up, increasing to a painful yowl as if something is about to break. There’s also a powerful, deep-throated rumble that stabilizes in a multi-toned, powerful, pulsing, thundering roll. The whole bridge is shaking and vibrating visibly. It sounds like God’s Harley is getting frisky with a super-charged big block diesel.
CUT TO
Engineering
Nearly all the readouts are now well into the red, and some of them are fluctuating wildly.
Stenson: (Grabbing a mic) What’n hell you DO up there, Helton?!
Helton: (OC) Went to emergency combat power. How’s it look down there?
Stenson: (Tensely) These numbers are NOT looking very happy.
The information display he is viewing, mostly various level indicators shading from green, past yellow, and many into the red, change. The level indicators are suddenly made of fluctuating lines of smiley faces. Stenson looks at them, does a small double-take, shakes his head.
Stenson: (Mutters under his breath) Smartass AI. (Louder) Well, we’re not dead yet, so it could be worse. I’ll let you know if we blow up. (Under breath) Let’s see how far we can push before we really do break something critical.
CUT TO
EXT - DAY – A desolate and open basin, badlands rising in the near distance
Low angle, as the ship zooms by faster and higher than before, kicking up dust and shaking the few scraggly bushes clinging to the rocky terrain as it blows by them.
CUT TO
Bridge
Bipasha at sensors, Lag weapons, Helton command, Quiritis at helm.
Quiritis: (Gently works the controls, the terrain on screens and out the front window move accordingly) Definitely more responsive.
Bipasha: Is that good or bad? (Helton looks nonplussed, Quiritis is calm as usual) I mean, I know about his flying.
Allonia walks in, heads for com.
Allonia: Quinn’ll be OK. Leg wound, shrapnel.
She points with her chin as she passes to a screen behind them.
Allonia: Who’s that?
On the aft bulkhead screen is an avatar, a tough, battle-scarred 17th century pirate, complete with cutlass and pistols, big cuffs, gold braid and buttons, fancy waistcoat, eye-patch with Possenti cross over his left eye, and leather hat with an elaborate band. The image on the back wall “walks across” to a side-screen, where everyone can see it more easily as they do their jobs.
Ship AI: (Pirate voice with heavy accent, frequently phrasing things as conspiratorial asides) Welcome t’th’ poop deck, lass! Glad t’ hear the little powder monkey’ll be back to work soon. Now, then, Cap’n, what’s the plan?
Helton: (Disbelieving) You’re the AI? All of it? A pirate?
Ship AI: (With some gesticulating to emphasize points) Ships’n ‘puters is neither fish ‘ner fowl, man ‘ner wo. Figured ye’d like this ugly ol’ mug headin’ ‘ta battle more’n a little girl in’a lace frock. An’ we’s a privateer, ifin’ ya’ recollects. Ain’t been whole fer’ centuries, but most’a the pieces that’r present are accn’ted fer. So, th’plan?
Helton: Well, with only one gun-
Ship AI: (Conspiratorially) Ah, that’d be two. Found a used one ashore.
Lag: -and a couple of missiles-
Ship AI: (Piratically) -about that. Seems the broadside we took shook loose a few odds ‘n ends in th’ magazine, so’s it’s a bit more useful now. Permission to direct loadin’ some loose rounds a’fore we hit rough water?
Helton’s expression indicates he’s only half understanding what’s said, but getting the gist of it.
Helton: Yes, by all means, a full magazine is better than an empty one!
Lag: If you tell us what you have we can plan better.
Ship AI: (Piratically) Indeed, yer strategicalness. Look away.
On the screens in front of Lag a list of data scrolls by. He scans them quickly, alternately nodding and frowning at what he sees.
CUT TO
Cargo bay
It’s crowded with hastily boarded soldiers and piles of gear. A screen next to a cluster of them lights up with the ship’s Privateer avatar.
Ship AI: (Piratically) ‘Scuze me, sergeant, an urgent mission for you from the Captain.
A diagram appears on the screen showing missile transport tubes picked up from the deck nearby and handed up from the cargo deck through the middeck window at the aft port, then going in through a small hatch (the same one that Kaminski had tried to blow open earlier), then repeated quickly.
Ship AI: If’n you’d be so kind as to git your squiddies t’ hand ‘em up.
CUT TO
Elsewhere on the cargo bay
A screen being used just for light switches to the privateer avatar next to a grizzled old veteran. The avatar nods a greeting wearing an expression of no-nonsense competence.
Ship AI: (Piratically) Chief, get your blastin’ kit ‘n make for the aft middeck on the double. Got quick job for y’t’do, Capn’s orders.
CUT TO
Cargo deck near a soldier tying down a stack of ammo crates. A nearby screen turns on and shows the Ship AI Privateer next to a diagram of belts of ammo being fed into a hopper on the side of the forward ramp.
Ship AI Avatar: (Piratically) Sergeant, get yer squiddies ‘n grab some crates! Lively, now!
CUT TO
Middeck, port aft.
The old veteran is carefully affixing just a bit of explosives along the edge of the welded hatch.
&nbs
p; CUT TO
Bridge
On the screens the hills are fast approaching.
Ship AI: (Enthusiastic) Ya might be wantin’ t’plug yer ears, gents. Fire in’a’hole!
A sharp BANG! Comes in though the open bridge door.
Helton: WHAT the HELL!?
Ship AI: (Cheerful) Openin’ the magazine. Didn’t let th’good corporal do it earlier on’a account o’ things just t’other side o’ th’hatch not reactin’ well t’ things go’s BOOM. Could’a been messy. Finally got ‘em moved. Loadin’up presently.
Lag: Looks like we’ll have at least six good short range missiles, and a pair I don’t recognize-
Ship AI: (Quite seriously) I’d be avoidin’ th’ M38J, if’n I’z you.
Lag frowns, not recognizing the reference.
Lag: Agreed. Now seven loaded.
Ship AI: Any plan, yet?
Helton: Any jamming?
Ship AI: A wee bit. Nuttin’ to worry ‘bout.
Lag: Maintain radio silence. Less warning.
Quiritis: Killing the a-grav will lower our sensor profile if they are breaking tech levels.
Helton: Do it!
Quiritis: Switching to the Sokolovs will do the same.
Lag: Damn inefficient this close to a planet though.
Quiritis: Which is why it wouldn’t be expected.
Helton nods an answer, and Quiritis’s hands work the console. The pitch of the engines coughs, stutters, the ship jerks a bit (more), then stabilizes. Helton looks at the map critically.
Helton: Ohooo-kay, then.
CUT TO
EXT - DAY - Near a canyon, overlooking rough terrain between the plain and the hills and mesas
The angular shape of Tajemnica streaks toward the gap in the hills, low to the ground and moving fast for the altitude, the wind of her passing kicking up a barely visible trail of dust. She rolls partially sideways and streaks through the gap, grazing one side and almost immediately rolling the other way to make another turn, and she is lost from view as she disappears into the twists and turns of the canyon.