by Mark Wandrey
"Rasa envoy party," it read, along with an appointment scheduled to begin in less than an hour. "Vendetta Petition against lower species Humans. Representation in absentia."
"The humans are not even here to defend themselves," the high commander hissed in delight. "This will be easy."
They followed the direction the computer provided and descended to a lower level of the spire. There they were searched by very deadly looking centipede-bots while a pair of crab-bots flanked them with beamcasters mounted on their carapace. Var'at tried not to jump as the barrel of one was trained on him, the memory of his encounter with the human Chosen was still fresh in his mind. Soon enough they were scanned and cleared, then issued into a waiting area with other delegations.
Var'at spent the time trying to recognize and categorize each species. It wasn't easy. They were all lower order species, like themselves, though they must be even lower because he recognized none of them. When it was the appointed time down to the second, the rooms announcement speakers boomed. "Rasa delegation, you may enter." They hopped up and skittered down the hall.
At the end they waited for a moment. A display indicated that the atmosphere was being normalized for them. Fully ninety percent of the Concordia species were oxygen breathers so Var'at wondered what strange beings had just vacated the council chamber. As the doors irised open, water dripped from the walls and ceilings then into drains. His question was answered, the species before them was an aquatic. Var'at didn't know of any non-oxygen breathing aquatic species. Most tended to use portable environments or aquatic space suits. He didn't know any so large or exotic that they couldn't travel that way, or powerful enough to warrant the room adapting to them instead of vise a versa.
"Enter," their pendants said and they moved forward as another door opened. They were on the bottom level of a low amphitheater. Around them were rows of seats rising upwards for minor dignitaries and observers. Directly in front of the Rasa delegation were three boxes each holding a single being and their advisors, the actual councilors. Var'at looked up nervously to see what species sat today. The responsibility rotated and you never knew who it would be that day until the council was sat.
To the left was a Gulla, a frog like species known for their mechanical prowess and general lack of interest in the day to day affairs of the Concordia. Their indifference was good for the Rasa cause. On the right was one of the rare insectoid species. It looked like a pile of broken tree branches and twigs and was called a Gojo. Var'at knew little to nothing about them. In the center would be the president in charge of the hearing, and they'd hit the jackpot. A pair of T'Chillen rested there, their massive forms wrapped around a padded column installed for its comfort. Tiny serpentine arms were working on a tablet the president held while a wide snakelike mouth worked and a pair of forked tongues occasionally slipped out to test the air. Its black on black eyes sitting atop retractable stalks swiveled when Var'at and his commander entered. He and the high commander effected bows to each of the councilors, holding it extra-long for the T'Chillen. Each species returned the bow, though not nearly as deeply.
"We of the Rasa have been wronged, and we demand Vendetta!" cried the high commander, as protocol dictated.
"Explain your case," the T'Chillen hissed.
Var'at waited as the high commander laid their claim to vendetta. It took half their allotted time before the council. When he finished the T'Chillen spoke. "You were squatting on GAX8773," it hissed.
"We have not attempted to deny this fact."
"I should say not," the Gulla spoke, bubbles popping from its gill slits, "squatting is a very serious violation."
"And we would have faced that violation if we were justly accused," Var'at hissed angrily, "instead these humans murdered our people without sanction!' The high commander placed his claws on Var'ats shoulder, squeezing hard enough to penetrate the skin. It was as public a display of disapproval as he would allow.
"We acknowledge this was a non-sanctioned attack," the Gojo spoke through its own translator, leaves rustling under moss, "but your claim of vendetta is not strongly supported."
"We have been harassed by these humans for months now," the high commander complained. For the first time worry was evident in his hissing plea.
"The council is aware of your little conflict with these human bugs," the T'Chillen said, cutting off any further protests from the high commander and earning a look of annoyance from the Gulla , "and we find them insignificant." Var'at braced himself for the worst. "However the human wards of the Tog need to be put in their place and taught a lesson. Their control of their clients is less than adequate." The T'Chillen conferred with the other two council members for a moment before continuing. "You are granted vendetta. Duration not to exceed five standard days, scope does not extend to non-involved species or worlds. The Tog or allies of the Tog or associates of the humans are off limits. Cessation of all hostilities will be precisely five days after beginning of vendetta. Starting date must be transmitted to this council no more than two days from this moment."
The T'Chillen stabbed at its computer and gestured toward the chamber doors that were now opening. The high commander turned to leave via the opposite door they'd entered though. "Honored councilor?" Var'at spoke. The T’Chillen seemed surprised that he was still there, then nodded for him to proceed. "What defense did the humans offer?"
“You have your desire fulfilled, why does it concern you?”
The High Commander was watching Var'at with a concerned eye. “Call it curiosity about our adversary.”
“Understandable,” the T'Chillen hissed, “They have not been called to testify, the Tog elected not to inform them of your claim."
Chapter 2
Julast 9th, 518 AE
Science Branch, Chosen Headquarters, Steven’s Pass
For two weeks Minu dedicated as much time as she could spare to getting Dram the answers he wanted. Her task was not made any easier by the lack of data available through the Tog network, or her own work load. Twice her team believed they'd found a way around the computer problem. A prototype was made ready and taken to the HERT, and both times the result were less than favorable. One weapons simply failed to operate properly, the computer pressed into service was overloaded and kept shutting down. The other caused a catastrophic overload in the plasma channel, blowing the weapon and the unlucky crab-bot holding it into smoking debris. Minu was never more glad for Pip's characteristic paranoia when it came to safety than when that rifle exploded. It could have been Gregg or Aaron scattered all over the floor.
The horribly failed test helped drive home the issue of how important the correct part was to Jasmine, who'd been pushing Minu harder every day. "There simply has to be a way of dumbing it down to use simpler computers," she insisted on more than one occasion. "We have access to hundreds of different models."
"You must to understand the nature of this weapon," Minu explained in a meeting. "The computer is the brain of the weapon. This is much more of a finesse weapon than a ballistic firearm, or even a beamcaster. The plasma doesn't want to go in a straight line. It is nothing more than electricity in its purest form. It will discharge into the nearest high potential ground it can find, including the operator. The laser burns an ionized negative channel, forcing the plasma to follow a set course. In addition, the laser acts as a penetrating charge of sorts, holing basic types of armors to increase the effectiveness of the plasma charge. We don't use very much plasma and without the laser giving it somewhere to work it would splash ineffectively against most Concordia made body armor."
"You'd still do some damage, right?"
"On some species, sure. Against a species like the Rasa, or the T'Chillen, or a Mok-Tok? You'll probably just piss them off. So this computer controls the scanner in the barrel, the laser and all its function, including attenuation, sighting, scanning, the plasma discharge timing and intensity, and all other weapon functions."
"It doesn't sound that complicated," Jasmine said in
an offhanded manner.
"You try it."
"Do be flippant."
"Well you are being patronizing. Look at the detailed write up on the Shock Rifle. The laser charges, fires a preliminary sighting beam the rifleman uses to aim. When it actually fires the laser sends out a probing beam of about a hundred watts. This burns a tiny amount of the target, like a mass spectrometer, that tells the sensor what the target is made of. Once the computer has decided which firing protocol to use, the laser discharges at full power. Depending on the target composition, it will hold its beam intensity until the targets armor or hide is penetrated. Once that is done the beam collimator creates a hole channel, an opening down the beam. This is a negatively charged passage for the plasma, kinda like a magnet. Finally, the plasma charge is fired into the channel, again the intensity is controlled by the computer depending on the target."
"Okay, why can't the operator do all of that stuff?"
"Because it takes place in zero point zero two five seconds." Jasmine's jaw dropped open and Minu knew the other woman never bothered to fully read any of the technical write ups. "You can automate some of these functions, or file the edges off to a one-size-fits-all approach, but then you effectively neutralize the advantage the weapon has. The operator will have to shoot something once and if it doesn't penetrate, up the laser holing intensity and fire again. Then if the plasma charge wasn't enough to be lethal, that has to be increased. Surely you can see the danger in making a rifleman do all these adjustments while they are being shot at? Where the beamcaster is a sledgehammer, the Shock Rifle is a carving knife."
This time Jasmine finally understood, at least enough to back off her demands for results. Minu returned to the lab and flopped onto a chair. Pip was standing in front of the interactive wall display, moving things with hand gestures and mumbling to himself. "How long has he been like that?"
"All morning," Mandi said off handedly. The woman was dissecting a pile of computers and running tests on one after the other. At the other end of the lab Alijah and Terry were running simulations to see how the barrel design would hold up to extended plasma charge exposure. Minu wanted to talk to Pip, but he continued to mumble so she got up, retrieved a cup of coffee, then went to figure out what he was doing.
"What are you up to?" she asked, blowing to cool the bitter brew.
"Trying to flowchart the computer process and see if we can trim it down."
"Hmm," she said and took a sip while examining the board. There was the rifle, blown up and exploded. Most parts weren't labeled, only groups representing functions. An icon on the bottom was the computer and a line went from it where a large box taking up about a third of the board was filled with flow chart symbols. "What exactly are you hoping for." Pip made and annoyed sound and she put a hand on his arm. "Maybe I can help."
He sighed and gave her some of his attention. "Maybe you can." She didn't know if he was just humoring her, or being genuine. "This is the computers program, in simplified form. I've broken down all the functions and sub-functions to create a step process chart. You can see how some process interact with others, and what system they work with."
"There is a lot," she said, trying to sound like she understood more than she did. The board was a crisscrossing labyrinth of pathways and commands. Programming wasn't something she'd studied much yet. Sounds like another college class was in order.
"You've created a real monster," he admitted. "I think I can come up with a way of using four energy process control computers in sequence."
"I thought we tried something similar yesterday. They still haven't found all the parts of that crab-bot."
"The difference is I'm going to dedicate a section of commands to each of the four computers, and only have them talk to each other when functions overlap."
"That sounds promising. How long do you think to design the architecture and program the computers?"
"Well, once I have the first one worked out, we can just duplicate the programming and bulk load them five or six at a time. The wiring might take an hour or so per weapon."
"That's not bad at all! How long before you think you'll have that first one ready?"
"Oh, about six months."
"What?!"
Pip just shrugged and looked helpless. "I said it might work, I didn't say it was easy." He stepped over to his perpetually neat work area and retrieved a cylindrical metal article that reminded Minu of a big steel aspirin capsule. It was maybe eight centimeters long and half that around. "This is the computer I'm using."
"Smaller than the ones from yesterday," she observed.
"Yes, but by using four they don't have to be as powerful. We have thousands of these in one of the warehouses. They're basically off a Junk Pile out there somewhere and we use them for everything from running tractors to radars on dirigibles. It has one terabyte of memory and a four twenty gigahertz processors. The problem is, that isn't very fast."
"The computer calls for at least one terahertz of speed, right?"
"With one computer. By spreading out the load, we might make it work on slower machines."
"How much more complicated will the weapon pathways be?"
"A lot. I've had Terry working on it. He says we can do it, and he has data cables to spare. The only real problem is the housing for the four computers. We either spread them around the weapon, and complicate things, or cram them all in the stock." Pip touched his big screen and Minu saw the weapon morph into two new variations. The dispersed computer design spoiled the lines without making it too cumbersome. The butt stock variation made for a doubling of that component. She ran through her mind what it would be like wielding that weapon in closer quarters combat and didn't like what she saw.
"Go with the dispersed if we move to testing," she said, "but that six months estimate?"
"It may be less."
"Get help. I don't care who, I'll make the arrangements."
"You got it."
* * *
The end of the day arrived and her team staggered out one at a time. Pip and Minu were the last to leave, as was almost tradition. She thanked him for working so hard and he mumbled something about data transfer comparability and waved good bye. Despite her fatigue and the later hour, she met with Cherise for a brief workout. The other girl was in town more often now that the new food distribution hub in Minsk was operating. Afterwards it was dinner from the dispenser and a shower before bed. She missed Christian and the time they'd spent together. He'd left for an off world mission several days ago, anything more about their feelings was left unsaid for now. He was intuitive enough to know this was currently a risky area of conversation. Still, professing his love for her echoed in her ears every night she was alone. She'd slowly been trying on the phrase for her feelings for him. "Do I love him?" she asked herself in the darkened billet. Sleep came to her before any sort of answer.
The next day it was back to work. Minu helped approve the outrageous requests Pip was making for manpower. By that afternoon a hundred computer experts all over Bellatrix were on the job without even knowing what they were doing. "Contract to assist in computer networking project," the advertisement read. When contact was made through Minu's office she explained it was a Chosen contract, paid in credits, and no questions asked. The contract was results driven, no success, no pay. There were no shortages of takers in the ever more technological Bellatrix.
"Come to lunch," a familiar deep baritone called into her lab. Minu smiled up at Dram and followed him out. A short time later with plates of food Minu asked him what the occasion was. "I wanted a face-to-face, see how things were going. Those requisitions for manpower caught me by surprise. Are they a lead, or desperation?"
"Pip is onto a solution for the computers."
"Better than the last one?"
"The bots better hope so." Dram smiled and shook his head. As she was explaining a cafeteria attendant came by and took their empty trays after they'd moved the plates onto the table. Minu blinked in surprise,
it was the first time she remembered seeing one of the employees in many months.
"Seems a good idea," Dram said and Minu was pulled back to the discussion at hand.
"How goes the Frontier?"
"That's another reason I'm here." Minu put her fork down to listen, taking a drink to wash down the mouthful she'd just taken. "We haven't had so much as a pot shot taken at our guys in several days. Right after the Ivan fiasco there was a big uptick and I curtailed most operations in the Frontier. The Tog started insisting we continue some searches for them, some sort of secret project.” He shrugged and took a bite. Minu was very familiar with their benefactors M.O. Lots of mystery, little chance for explanation. “When we went back out, nothing, no challenges. I've even sent a heavily armed team to a known Rasa hot spot, just out of curiosity."
"Nothing there either?"
"No." Minu pushed her plate away, appetite gone. "Your report of probable Rasa responses under The Law was very detailed. More detailed than we could have ever done with the Concordia network."
"Thanks."
"You wouldn't care to explain how you managed that?" Minu found a little appetite after all and picked up a carrot stick to munch as she shook her head. "Funny thing. A few months ago, not long before your amazing Shock Rifle design first saw the light of day, I received an official complaint from Z'Kal. Hse says someone hacked the Tog network, very thoroughly and almost maliciously."
"That's interesting."
"Isn't it? Hse said there was considerable evidence that Malovich Industries was behind it. So much evidence as to make it all but obvious. I mean, if you're going to pull off a computer crime, wouldn't you make an effort to hide it instead of accessing through Viktor Malovich's personal computer interface?" Minu made a mental note to chastise Pip for being so blatant. "These perpetrators used some handmade bugs that amazed even Z'Kal. Hse was so amazed hse delayed using his best defenses just to see what the perpetrator would try next. Don't know anyone with that sort of talent, do you?"