“And you set it up with a full solar system containing many ships?” Veli said, ignoring the blasted machine. “Big ones, little ones, medium-sized ones …”
“That pretty much covers the sizes, sir,” the computer interrupted.
Maybe Veli shouldn’t have given this bucket of bolts too much of a personality. Originally, he’d thought it would be fun to have it be able to converse and talk back to him. And, originally, it was fun. He would yell at it, call it names, and threaten to destroy it at every turn. It had sulked a lot back then. It still did now, but it was no longer afraid of Veli. That was the problem with a learning A.I., eventually it sorted you out.
“You set it up so that there’s a full back story and everything, right?”
“It was in your email, sir.”
“There’s even a king and an assassination and all of that?”
“Actually, that was one of the most interesting parts, sir.”
“How endearing it is to know that you approve, computer.”
“Thank you. Shall I tell you the story?”
“Surprise me.”
“Really?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Well,” the computer replied without hesitation, “based on the number of times you called me a dullard, I’d have to say …”
“Just do it, okay?”
“As you say, sir.”
“Also, there is a ship back at the Overseer’s Headquarters. It’s in the main dock, but it’s about to transport to a set of coordinates that I gave to them. I’ll forward it to you.”
He tapped on his datapad.
“Sir,” the computer interrupted, “those coordinates are unknown.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The coordinates are going to be inside of the fantasy that you’re working on.”
“Oh,” the computer said, sounding shocked. “You want me to incorporate an outside ship into the fantasy?”
“See, you’re not so dumb,” Veli said with a grin. “Even without the plus-plus.”
WORKING FOR GEEZER
Geezer hadn’t exactly been truthful when he’d said it had been a long time since he’d had someone to boss around. The fact was that he’d never had a subordinate. Sure, he’d been lent a crewman from time-to-time, but nothing permanent. Frexle would be his first true direct-report.
He thought it would be appropriate to have an employee handbook, but there wasn’t much to offer, especially this being short-notice and all.
Instead, he walked around the man, studying him while trying to look important. If anything he felt stupid. This just wasn’t his style, but he was the boss now and that meant he had to step up.
“Well, well, well,” Geezer said. “What shall we do with you?”
“I’m ready to work on whatever is needed,” Frexle said like a man who was not pleased with the situation.
“You’re ready to work on whatever is needed, what?” Geezer asked.
Frexle frowned for a moment. “Huh?”
Geezer took out his rag and began wiping his hands with it. It wasn’t necessary since there was no grease on his hands, but it was part of his programming.
“I’m your boss now, right?”
“Yes,” Frexle replied sadly.
“Then?”
“Honestly, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, Geezer.”
“Okay,” Geezer said, tucking the rag away, “I’ll spell it out for you. When you were my boss, what did I call you?”
“When you knew I was on the phone or when you didn’t know I was on the phone?”
“The first one,” Geezer replied.
“Things like ‘Big Cat’ and … oh, wait … are you expecting me to call you ‘sir?’”
Geezer nearly fell over at that.
“By the programmers, no! ‘Sir’ is what soldiers call the brass … even the women, which I’ve always found very odd.” He paused to think about that. Truth was that he found many things that humans did strange at best. “We never call them ‘sir,’ unless it’s unavoidable. Anyway, ‘Chief’ will do just fine.”
“You want me to call you ‘Chief?’” Frexle more said than asked.
“You got it.”
“Ugh.”
“Ugh, what?”
“Ugh … Chief.” Frexle’s shoulders dropped and he rolled his eyes. “This is really embarrassing, you know?”
“Why would it be?” asked Geezer. “What did you call Veli?”
“Depends on whether or not I was in the same room as him,” mused Frexle, “but typically it was ‘sir’ or ‘Lord Overseer’ or ‘my lord.’ Things like that.”
“Exactly,” Geezer said. “I’m just asking you to refer to me like you would to any boss, but in a way that suits how things roll in engineering. ‘Chief’ seems to work for that.” Geezer then considered that maybe it was too lowly sounding for Frexle. The man had just worked for the head of the self-proclaimed smartest people in the universe, after all. “Is the term ‘Chief’ too tame for you or something? We could go with ‘Titanium Czar,’ if you’d prefer?”
“Uh …” Frexle said, squinting. “Let’s stick with ‘Chief’ and see how that goes.”
“Damn. Kind of like ‘Titanium Czar,’ actually.” Geezer shrugged in his robotic way. “Right, well, you’re in engineering now. We do things differently here.”
“We do?”
“As I said before,” Geezer continued, “we never call the brass ‘sir,’ unless it can’t be helped. Call them names like ‘Prime’ and ‘Honcho’ and … well, you already know what I’m talking about.”
Frexle nodded. “Yes, but I don’t understand why.”
“It’s an engineer’s way of sticking it to the system.”
“Ah, I see,” Frexle said slowly. “A passive-aggressive manner of working with management.”
“What’s your point, Frexle?”
“Honestly, I have none … uh, Chief. But I will comply with your request. The bottom line is that if I’m to be in engineering, which I fully admit has always been a draw for me, then I must accept the Code of Engineers.”
Geezer looked the man over. Frexle wasn’t Segnalian, so it was anyone’s guess what his anatomy allowed. Still, he seemed humanoid, even if his eyes were a bit too large, which meant that it was unlikely he’d be able to accept a data transfer using anything other than the Feeder.
“You have a port?” Geezer asked.
“Pardon?”
“How can you accept code if you …” Geezer stopped himself. “Oh, I see now that’s not what you were talking about. You meant you had to accept the way that engineers look at the world, right?”
“Correct,” Frexle said, half-smiling. “Anything else before I get started?”
“Uh-hem.”
Frexle took a deep breath and slowly blew it out.
“Sorry,” he said. “Is there anything else before I get started, Chief?”
“I think you’ve pretty much learned the important stuff.”
“Using proper names, or, rather, improper names for the brass is the important stuff?”
“It’s the foundation of everything we are in engineering, Frexle.” Geezer held up one of his hands. “You know, that feels wrong.”
“Your hand?”
“No, calling you by your name.”
“Oh,” Frexle said as if he were expecting more.
“Mind if I call you ‘Pixie?’”
“I mind very much, yes.”
“Hmmm. How about ‘Little Cat?’”
“No.”
“Subby?”
“Definitely, no.”
Geezer turned back towards his station and began tidying up. He would have to adjust his programming to be okay with calling his new worker by his actual name. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem, but since the guy was once the uber big cat, it was twisting Geezer’s relays a bit.
“Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll get used to using your
name, but I have to say that this being-the-boss stuff is a lot tougher than I’d thought.”
SEEING THE FLEET
The bridge was full of purposeful androids, a couple of Early Evolutionary Humanoids (EEHs), and a captain who was wondering what the Overseers had in store for Platoon F this time. He knew about the armada, obviously, but was it an armada of tiny ships or gargantuan ones? He was hoping for the former while expecting the latter.
As soon as everyone reported that their stations were ready, Harr signaled Geezer to activate the GONE drive so they could see where they’d end up.
He groaned as the screen filled with a gigantic fleet of enormous ships. There were many mid-sized and smaller vessels too, of course, but he was having a difficult time tearing his eyes away from what had to be the lead craft.
It was by far the largest spaceship Harr had ever seen. While not as wide as some in the Segnalian fleet, this one was easily ten times as long. He could barely wrap his mind around the enormity of it. The only thing larger in the field of view was the planet that dangled just below and to the back of the ship. Harr assumed that was the planet known as Lopsided-11.
“Hank,” Harr said to Lieutenant Moon, “please tell me we’re stealthed.”
“Okay,” replied Moon, “we’re thtealthed.”
Harr released a breath of relief and then squinted at Moon. “We really are stealthed, right?”
“Yeth, thir.”
“Good. Never can tell when asking questions around here.”
“That ship looks just like my …” Jezden began.
“Not now, Jezden,” Harr interrupted before the android could go off on a tangent regarding his manhood. The ensign loved noting the size of his monstrous organ, after all. “We have more important things to focus on right now.”
“What? I was just going to say …”
“Seriously, Jezden. Now’s not the time for it.”
“For what?”
“You know what,” Harr said, staring fixedly at the ensign.
“I do?” Jezden said, looking rather confused.
Harr took in a deep breath and ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth.
Maybe he was jumping the gun here. He’d been around these androids long enough to know their idiosyncrasies, but every now and then one of them would say or do something unexpected. Looking out at the armada that they had to somehow coax into ceasing their growth was daunting, though, so if anyone—yes, even Jezden—could offer something useful to make this mission a success, he owed it to the rest of the crew to listen.
“Fine,” Harr said, hopefully, “go on, then. What were you going to say?”
“Just that the big ship out there looks like my dong.”
“Wow,” Harr said while shaking his head.
“Especially with that planet hanging beneath it,” Jezden added, “if you see what I’m saying?”
“Sadly, I do, as you’ve painted quite the picture. I just can’t believe that you actually said what I had originally expected you to say.”
“Why would I have said anything else?”
“Right.” Then Harr’s blood ran cold. “Geezer, I know those ships can’t see us, but can they hear us?”
“Nope, Chief,” Geezer replied through the comm. “During our last mission I developed a new piece of tech that allows me to create a field around the ship that acts kind of like a firewall.”
“How does a wall that blocks fire help us?” said Grog.
“No,” Geezer said, “it’s basically a shield that protects the ship from incoming and outgoing communications, unless I open a hole.”
Jezden chuckled at that.
“Anyway,” Geezer said quickly, “it also acts as a silencing mechanism for the ship’s sounds, and it allows me to encrypt any data that we send or receive from open holes.”
Another chuckle.
“What holes are opened?”
By now, Jezden was on the floor.
“The only one currently configured is for Frexle’s red-brick phone.”
“But he’s on the ship with us,” stated Harr as Jezden slowly pulled himself back into his chair as he wiped the synthetic tears from his eyes.
“Good observation, Prime,” Geezer replied dryly, “but I didn’t know that he’d be here at the time I opened that hole.” Jezden fell down again. “Maybe if I can perfect the Predictoteller device, I’ll be able to make better informed decisions about the future in the future.”
“Made up that name, I’m guessing?”
“Just now, Prime.”
“Of course you did,” Harr said with a grimace.
“Actually, I should probably run a full diagnostic on it, just in case,” Geezer stated. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Why Geezer couldn’t do the diagnostic while speaking with him on the comm, Harr couldn’t say, but he assumed that it had something to do with how the robot had configured these inventions of his. In a nutshell, he created them via luck and happenstance. It was a wonder that The SSMC Reluctant had managed to stay in one piece over the years.
“That’s odd,” Ridly piped up.
Harr bit his lip and turned his attention to Ridly.
“What is, Lieutenant?”
“I’ll bet she’s talking about how much that ship looks like my …”
“Jezden,” Harr said, pointing at the ensign, “that’s enough. Ridly, what’s odd?”
“Aside from that ship looking like Jezden’s junk?” Ridly said.
“Obviously.”
“It’s just that there was something strange during our transport. It’s probably not important, though.” She shrugged at him. “I know how you sometimes get irritated at us for some of the things we do, so …”
“Just tell me what you’ve noticed, please,” Harr said, feeling much more confident in what Ridly would say than in what Jezden ever said.
Ridly spun around in her chair and leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees and putting her chin in her hand. It really didn’t matter that Harr knew she—and most of his crew—were androids, they just seemed so human sometimes that it messed with his mind.
“Usually it only takes us like two hundred and fifty milliseconds to transport from location to location,” she said. “This transport took three hundred and twenty-five milliseconds.”
Harr shrugged. “That’s negligible.”
“To you, maybe,” Ridly said snarkily and then sat upright. “Sorry, sir. The point is that it’s been consistently two hundred and fifty milliseconds ever since the GONE drive hit version 2.0.”
“Two hundred and fifty-three to be precise,” offered Sandoo.
“That precise?” Harr said.
“I rounded up,” admitted Sandoo.
“I’m surprised that you can even notice such a small amount of time.”
“We’re androids, dude,” Jezden said with a grunt.
“Oh, come on, Ensign,” Harr replied, “I know that Sandoo, Moon, and Ridly are exacting in everything they do, but you don’t fit that mold.”
“I don’t fit in a lot of things,” Jezden stated with one eyebrow up, “but when it comes to measurements, every millimeter counts.”
“You can thay that again,” Moon said dreamily.
It was Jezden’s turn to grimace. “Ew.”
“Yo, Honcho,” Geezer said, rejoining the conversation, “something weird is going on down here.”
“Let me guess,” said Harr, “the transport took seventy-five milliseconds longer than normal, right?”
“No,” Geezer replied matter-of-factly.
“Oh. What then?”
“The transport took seventy-seven milliseconds longer than normal.”
“Right.” Harr pinched the bridge of his nose. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“Well,” Geezer began, “instead of the standard two hundred and fifty-three milliseconds, it took …”
“I know what that means, Geezer,” Harr nearly shouted. “I’m asking what happened to cau
se the delay?”
“Oh sure, right,” Geezer said apologetically. “I’ve got no idea. Just thought I’d tell you about it.”
How his crew could be the most intelligent, powerful, and fastest-thinking bunch around while simultaneously being a bunch of easily-baffled, no commonsense, non self-starters in the galaxy was beyond Harr’s comprehension.
“Should I be worried, Geezer?”
“About me telling you things?” Geezer answered. “Probably not. Then again, there are some things you may not want to know. Like, what if there were a Zapsippian Space Beast behind you and there was no way for you to escape? Would you really want me to tell you about that?”
By now Harr’s head was in his hands.
“Would you please just diagnose the issue and find out what happened?”
“You got it, Big Cat.”
“Is Frexle with you?” Harr asked before disconnecting the comm.
“Where else would he be?” answered Geezer.
“Have you two seen the armada?” Harr said, ignoring Geezer.
“No.”
Harr could understand the lack of curiosity from Geezer’s standpoint, but he was somewhat surprised that Frexle had no interest in knowing what they were facing. To be fair, the man was just put into a subordinate situation under an archaic robot after spending years as a top official in Overseer land.
“Put on your screen and look outside.”
A moment later, Frexle said, “Oh boy.”
“Exactly what I’m thinking,” said Harr. “Being that you’re an Overseer and, according to you, smarter than everyone else in the known universe, how the hell would you propose we defeat that mass of ships?”
“I … uh …” Frexle began, but trailed off.
“I thought the point of that fabulous computer you guys built was to catch technology long before it was this powerful,” said Harr.
“It is, Lone Wolf, but …”
“This is impossible, Frexle, even for someone with your … wait, did you just call me ‘Lone Wolf?’”
“He’s in engineering now, Prime,” Geezer said in Frexle’s defense. “You know how we feel about saying ‘sir’ down here.”
“Unreal,” Harr whispered.
Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2) Page 40