“On Kalnai? Again?”
“Yes. I should probably relieve him, but, other than his occasional lapses with reports, he's very good at his job. I'd hate to lose him. I was going to wait one more day, see if he reports this afternoon, before I called him on the carpet about it.”
“Well, he's your report, so it's your call. Just don't go too lax on him. Reporting is important,” Kosar said.
“Understood.”
“Anything else?”
“One curious thing,” Kwan said. “Last night we had a ship drop out of hyperspace about twenty light-seconds out, just sit there for about twenty minutes, and then drop back into hyperspace.”
“They didn't answer challenges?”
“No ID beacon signal, no answer to challenges. We moved to range the vessel, but they were in a bit of a dead zone in our patrols. Before we could range it, they dropped back out.”
“Curious. How big was it?” Kosar asked.
“As far as we can tell, it was a small vessel, about the size of a drone tender or a large yacht.”
“Well, probably nothing. But keep a sharp eye on things. Maybe rearrange our patrols a little bit, upgrade our operational status, to get some extra ships or drones out there and close up some of those dead zones.”
“Yes, Ma'am,” Kwan said.
“Anything else this week?”
“No, Ma'am. That's it.”
The second command file triggered off by Turner's master command file installed regular reporting of the system status of the Doma system to Dawson on Kalnai. The complete system map, location and status of all ships, and all ships and drones inbound and outbound in the Doma system were regularly monitored already, the command file simply started a regular reporting of that information. It was updated every half-hour by the regular courier drones that maintained communications among Galactic Mail's fifty-seven headquarters locations.
“So what are we seeing so far, Otto?” Dawson asked Sokolov as she walked into the tactical headquarters Wednesday morning.
She checked her watch. Galactic Mail headquarters on Doma was about four hours behind at the moment.
“They've increased the number of drones maintaining station around the system, and put a couple more drone tenders on ready status on patrol. That's it so far,” Sokolov said.
“OK, so they've responded to our little incursion overnight Monday.”
“Looks like.”
“What about our resources?” Dawson asked.
“Everything has come in, Pat. As each group has come in, we've assigned them a patrol location in hyperspace. I've put them on stand-down status for now, even while they cruise their patrol positions.”
“Has our story been holding about an upcoming war games exercise?”
“Yes, we've gotten some pushback. Captains maintaining its silly, Galactic Mail has no large adversaries to war game for,” Sokolov said.
“They've grown soft. Well, that will change. And the drones?”
“All holding in hyperspace, Ma'am. It's starting to get crowded out there.”
Dawson chuckled. She checked her watch again.
“Good. Very good. Well, it shouldn't be long now until the bear wakes up.”
Sylvain Costa couldn't get into the Galactic Mail VR system this morning. His login was refused. He had accessed his account on the display in his office, and had received a single mailed letter instead of a login. He was simply staring at the display when Padma Kosar exploded into his office.
“What the hell is this shit?” Padma said, throwing a printout on Costa's desk.
Costa read the first paragraph while Kosar stood fuming, laid it back on his desk.
“I wish I knew,” Costa said.
“It's signed by some Patricia Dawson. Never heard of her. She claims to be the CEO of Galactic Mail.”
Costa motioned toward his display.
“I just received a letter informing me I have been removed as CEO by action of the Board of Directors. It's digitally signed by George Enfield, whoever that is, claiming to be the Chairman of the Board.”
“Computer,” Kosar shouted at the overhead. “Who is the CEO of Galactic Mail?”
“Patricia Dawson is the Chief Executive Officer of Galactic Mail,” the computer voice answered from the speakers.
“Well, we can still ask the computer questions, at least,” Costa said.
“Who is the Chairman of the Board?” Kosar asked.
“George Enfield is Chairman of The Board of Directors of Galactic Mail.”
“Where are they?” Kosar asked.
“Ms. Dawson and Mr. Enfield are at Galactic Mail headquarters on Kalnai.”
“Kalnai?” Kosar said.
“Computer, provide short bio on Patricia Dawson and George Enfield, with specific regard to Galactic Mail.”
“Patricia Dawson and George Enfield are the seventh great-grandchildren of Jan Childers. Patricia Dawson is an accountant and George Enfield and his brother own an agricultural services company. They are two members of the Watchers, a group put in place by action of the Board of Directors, per Galactic Mail's by-laws, to ensure Galactic Mail does not overstep its charter. The Watchers elected themselves the Board of Directors of Galactic Mail, removing the prior Board, and installed George Enfield as Chairman. George Enfield named Patricia Dawson as Chief Executive Officer and the Board concurred.”
“When and where did these Board actions occur?” Costa asked.
“Aboard GMS Mnemosyne, in orbit around the planet Horizon, on Tuesday of last week.”
“Horizon is where Childers retired. Enfield and Dawson are Childers' seventh great-grandchildren?” Costa said to Kosar.
“I don't give a damn if that bitch is Julius Caesar's twelfth cousin twice removed on his father's side,” Kosar said.
“Padma, it's over.”
“Bullshit it's over.”
“The computers control everything. We have no way to fight this”.
“The computers don't control everything. I have my own resources.”
And with that, Kosar stormed out of Costa's office.
A Private Navy
Without access to Galactic Mail systems, Kosar couldn't contact Myron Kwan directly. She had to ask her assistant to contact him and ask him to come to her office. By the time he made it over from the Security Building, she was in a cold fury.
“What's going on?” Kwan asked.
Kosar just handed him the letter. Kwan read it, handed it back.
“Who is Patricia Dawson?” Kwan asked.
“An accountant from Horizon. That's where Childers retired generations ago. Apparently she's a descendant. And she thinks she can waltz in here and take over because she doesn't like where Galactic Mail is going.”
Kosar put a little emphasis on the word accountant. There was always a danger in a power struggle that some key person would jump the wrong way, go over to the other side. But Kwan's position with Galactic Mail had been very lucrative for him, in ways that couldn't stand a lot of scrutiny, particularly from an accountant.
“That's pretty ambitious.”
“Well, it's not happening. I want to take that bitch and her cronies out, and I don't care if we have to burn Kalnai to the ground to do it,” Kosar said.
“Kalnai?”
“That's where they're at. That's probably why we haven't had any reports from Sitko. He's gone over to them. I told you he was unreliable.”
Kwan shrugged.
“Perhaps.”
“In any case, we need to take them out, even if we have to destroy Galactic Mail's Kalnai regional headquarters to do it.”
“Well, we certainly have the firepower to do that.”
“We probably can't use any regular forces for it, though. They have control of the damn computers. So it's time to call in our little private navy.”
“Orders?”
“Go to Kalnai in overwhelming force, demand their surrender, and, when they refuse, take them out. I want that bitch dead.�
��
“What if they surrender?”
“Then I'll be disappointed.”
“They've sent out a bunch of unscheduled drones. Looks like thirty of them,” Turner said, looking at the display.
“Calling in their forces. Good. Very good. We'll probably have to go to ready status pretty soon,” Dawson said.
Drone tenders orbiting Doma recalled their crews and began spacing for the hyperspace limit, to join their ready-status comrades. Also at the hyperspace limit, freighters were unloading thousands of drones.
Warships with their drone complements began dropping out of hyperspace in the Doma system. They did not approach the planet, but stayed at the hyperspace limit. Big cruiser destroyers, much bigger than the drone tenders, with their own firepower, as well as six hunting parties of drones per ship.
“What's it look like so far?” Dawson asked.
“Looks like fifty or so drone tenders, and maybe sixty ships the computer calls cruiser destroyers. Total drone deployment looks like almost ten thousand,” Turner said.
“How is that drone deployment split?”
“Looks like thirty-six hundred for the Security ships' drone complement, and six thousand or so for the regular forces.”
“All right, let's go ahead and put everybody on active status. They could drop into hyperspace at any time.”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
Kosar watched her assistant's office display with glee as the big Security ships started dropping out of hyperspace. And, to her surprise, the regular forces ships were responding to Myron Kwan's override orders to deploy for the mission. Over a hundred ships, and ten thousand drones prepared for deployment. And Myron Kwan was in personal command of the mission, so there would be no screw-ups.
That'll fix that bitch, Kosar thought.
The Battle of Kalnai
Orders went out to the assembled ships. Another of Jack Turner's command files had been running in the internal mail system, and it saw the message it had been waiting for. It split the addressees into two different groups, and substituted a very different message in the mail going to the regular forces.
The regular forces of Padma Kosar's deployment would space to Odla, and place themselves under the orders of the Odla region manager and her chief of Tactical.
“All right, let's not go in fast and stupid. Drop a sensor drone into normal space and let's take a look-see what's going on,” Myron Kwan said.
“Yes, Sir.”
His force was sitting dead-stop in hyperspace-1 at the Kalnai hyperspace limit for manned ships.
“Ma'am, a sensor drone just dropped out of hyperspace,” one of Otto Sokolov's sensor techs said.
“OK, he's here,” Dawson said. “Everybody act normal. Nobody here but us chickens.”
“Ma'am?”
“Old joke. Maintain status.”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
Dawson waited in what she called her “Enshin mode.” Beginning of the bout, waiting for the order to start, centered, ready to react.
“Ma'am, that drone just hypered out.”
“Stay sharp, everybody.”
“Sir, the sensor drone's back. Kalnai is at normal operational levels. I don't see any evidence of any changes. Drone tenders on station look like they are on a three-in-four peacetime rotation.”
“All right. Let's drop out of hyperspace and head toward the planet.”
Orders went out to the fleet, and the sixty Security cruiser destroyers dropped out of hyperspace into normal space.
“Sir, the drone tenders? They're not here, Sir.”
“What do you mean, not here.”
“Just what I said, Sir. We dropped out of hyperspace, and all sixty cruiser destroyers show ready, but the drone tenders aren't here.”
Figures, Kwan thought. Their orders must have been messed with by the central computers. But the Security ships' orders were backed up by a separate communication that didn't go through the central computers. Kosar had planned well. He still had sixty ships, and thirty-six hundred drones, in his attack force.
“Doesn't matter. We have more than enough firepower to do this job. Make for the planet, one gravity. Transmit surrender demand as planned.”
“They're accelerating toward Kalnai, Ma'am. One gravity,” the sensor tech said.
“What I don't understand is, Why bring ships at all? They're sitting ducks. Don't they get that?” Sokolov asked.
“Don't forget. To secure the planet, they need manpower. There's probably eighteen or twenty thousand security personnel on those ships,” Dawson said.
“But shouldn't they wipe out any defenses first? Before they cross the hyperspace limit?”
“That's why we showed them a normal operational posture. They don't think there are any defenses to worry about.”
“Surrender demand received, Ma'am. They demand our surrender, or they will bombard the headquarters,” the sensor tech said.
“Ah, good. We have them on record. Send our surrender demand, Comm.”
“We've received a surrender demand from Kalnai, Sir. Surrender or be destroyed. It's from Patricia Dawson, Sir.”
“An accountant demands our surrender? What's she going to do, audit me? Repeat our surrender demand.”
“Response received. They've spurned our surrender demand and repeated their surrender demand, Ma'am.”
“Execute Attack Plan A.”
Galactic Mail maintained a total drone complement sufficient to deploy a single hunting party of ten drones per human planet. This was decided early on as a good number, and they stuck with it. With a current total of thirty-five thousand human planets, that meant three hundred and fifty thousand drones, spread out over Galactic Mail's fifty-seven division headquarters, or about six thousand drones per division.
Patricia Dawson had gathered up the drone complement of twenty-eight Galactic Mail divisions to Kalnai, for a total of over one hundred and sixty thousand drones.
One hundred and twenty hunting parties of ten drones each were assigned to Kwan's ships, two complete hunting parties per ship. Twelve hundred drones dropped out of hyperspace five light-seconds removed from the Security formation and opened fire. All sixty ships were hit a dozen or more times and they all disintegrated.
Fifty thousand drones dropped out of hyperspace at their hyperspace-1 limit around the planet and accelerated toward a high orbit around the planet, to form a last-ditch defense against incoming drones. They were programmed to fire on anything that moved between their high planetary orbit and the drone's hyperspace-1 limit.
The other one hundred thousand-plus drones swarmed hyperspace between the drone's hyperspace-1 limit and the debris of Kwan's erstwhile attack fleet, seeking out the attack force's drones in hyperspace. The sensor drones had been reprogrammed to process their sensor data according to Dr. Misra's algorithm for detecting ships in hyperspace by looking for their gravitational signatures. Against such a small target as a drone in hyperspace-1, the detection distances were absurdly short, as little as a few hundredths of a light-second. But the massive wall of drones spaced out across the incoming attack vector swept across the attacking drone squadrons like a net, destroying as they went.
While the drones were small targets, accuracy was good because the distances were so short. It was made simpler because the attacking drones were not programmed to fire in hyperspace, and so the wall of defensive drones received no answering fire.
As each attacking drone was destroyed, and its hyperspace generator destroyed, it fell out of hyperspace into normal space.
“Keep a count on that drone debris. we need to know we got them all,” Dawson said.
“We're trying, Ma'am. The computers are having trouble sorting all the data, it's all happening so fast, and they're so close to each other, but we'll get more detailed data back from the sensor drone in each hunting party once they drop out of hyper.”
Ten drones made it through the sieve somehow and began attack runs on Kalnai. Hundreds of drones in the las
t-ditch defensive shell fired at each, and no debris survived to hit the planet.
“Couple of squeakers, there,” Enfield said.
“Yeah, but they didn't get through. Let's turn the drones around and get them to sweep back in this direction,” Dawson said.
“All right. We think we're close on the count. We're still collecting data from the sensor drones,” Sokolov said.
“Well, let's just sweep back anyway. I don't want any stragglers out there.”
“Yes, Ma'am,” Sokolov said.
“Do you think she threw everything she had at us?” Enfield asked.
“I think so. I hope so. I tried to piss her off enough to get her to commit everything. I would hate for her to have a significant force left and be smarter about how to use it.”
The sensor drones began their sweep back. They were about a third of the way back when Sokolov spoke up.
“We've confirmed the count, Ma'am. We got them all.”
“OK, good. Let's let them finish their sweep anyway. What's going on around Doma? Anything new?”
“Nothing new there, Ma'am.”
Dawson spoke to Enfield.
“Maybe it's time you and I go pay a little visit to Mr. Costa and Ms. Kosar,” Dawson said.
Confrontation
The GMS Quicksilver dropped out of hyperspace at the hyperspace-1 limit for manned vessels in the Doma system. It was Thursday morning on Doma.
A scan of the system showed the freight operations continued unabated, but there was no military presence in the system at all. No cruiser destroyers, no drone tenders, no weapons drones. Courier drones were arriving and departing continuously, binding together all the planets humans had settled in a single mail network.
Quicksilver headed toward orbit around the planet.
Galactic Mail_Revolution! Page 10