“If the system truly is abandoned, ma’am,” Killik said slowly, “We may never find out. It isn’t like the pirates are going to tell us and the Republic people are dead.”
“Mmm. You’re right about that. Well, it’s something think on, anyway.”
Of all her guards, it turned out that the burly Beau was having the most trouble with the neuro implants. Complications during surgery, combined with abnormal amounts of swelling and an unknown allergy to one of the pain meds had kept the big wolf in the medical facility for almost a month longer than all the others. Tamara could conduct nearly all her business from here in the shipyard complex or on board Moxie-2, so it allowed her to remain at the yards to monitor his progress.
Being in the yards also allowed Tamara to drop in on her R&D team and to bring presents for her friend Ka’Xarian.
“What have you got for me, Tamara?” the cheerful insectoid engineer cackled, rubbing his carapaced hands together. It made a strange noise, like leather rubbing against sandpaper.
“Nothing candied this time, Xar,” she replied with a smile. She handed him a data card. “But I do have some goodies here for you and your team to chew on.”
He took it from her and slotted it into the work console. The display came up, showing schematics of the Republic corvette and the pirate light cruiser. Tamara had worked with Kiki, Eretria and Apogee to decipher corrupted and on occasion incomplete data to get that information and now she wanted it refined. “Two ships? Ooh, and a cruiser to boot! Tamara, you spoil me. I’m a married male, otherwise I would thank you properly.”
Tamara shook her head, unable to stop a chuckle. Xar was A Character and one that could always find a way to make her laugh. “I do my best, Xar. So what do you think?”
The zheen nodded, his antennae whirled in circles. “Well, the corvette’s about a generation ahead of the hak’ruk design we’re currently using, but not huge leaps or bounds ahead. I’m already seeing a few upgrades for the next round of refits.”
Tamara smiled, wiggling a finger at him. “I saw a few myself, but I don’t want all the corvettes gutted just to tweak a few systems.”
He waved a hand dismissively and buzzed a negative. “Nah, waste of time. Just a couple things, but not critical. But this ship is two to three steps more advanced than the ugly boxes that the Navy is using now.” He tilted his head and his antennae curled slightly. “Not that this thing isn’t ugly. No sense of style in the Republic. Just a big tube with hammerhead ends!” He clacked his mandibles in disgust.
Tamara couldn’t disagree. “It’s why I picked the hak’ruk design. I think most Navy ships in the Republic were designed during the war: austerity and ability to get them in space in a very short interval. Function over beauty.”
The zheen hissed again. “Skekt! Nothing but stylus-pushing bureaucrats trying to pinch a credit until it bleeds. What ever happened to pride? Asthetics? Intimidation?”
“Let it go, Xar. In a war, you’re happy to have ships, any ships and you don’t much care what they look like, only that they can fight. It’s best if they look the same, uniformity helps develop an espirit de corps, but that’s not really necessary.”
“I suppose,” he grumbled. He switched to the pirate cruiser. “What the…? Who the flitz designed this bucket of bolts? It’s like a committee of five companies got together and built it, built their own sections with their own off the shelf parts welded the whole monstrosity together and kicked it until it worked.”
“That was our assessment as well,” Tamara agreed with a chuckle. “Now I want your team, with Nasir’s and Apogee’s help, to put your heads together and fix it. Make me a workable ship.”
Xar buzzed with pleasure. “I relish the challenge. And when I succeed?”
She laughed. “You’ll have the satisfaction of a job well done. And my personal gratitude.”
He crossed his arms over his thorax. “No, you’re going to get me something tangible and something worthwhile. I’d say ‘imported’ but I’ve had the crap they serve from the taps in the Ulla-tran bars.” Then he nodded. “Yes, something imported from Bellosha. They had some good tipple. I want a case. Actually, two. One for me, one for my team.”
“You want two cases of booze, Xar?” Tamara asked with a chuckle. “Brought all the way in from Bellosha? The stuff they sell there doesn’t come in cases.”
He shrugged. “Then a barrel. Each.” At the look on her face, his mouthparts started wriggling. “You think I’m kidding.”
Tamara watched him for along moment, then shook her head and laughed. “All right, Xar. You design me a workable ship out of that and I will get you your booze.”
“And more ku’resh,” he said, pointing a blunt finger in her direction. “I don’t know where you get it from, but wherever that is is the best.”
“I will figure out how to get more of that as well, but I am never telling you where that comes from. And Apogee has strict orders to make sure that you never find out.”
Ka’Xarian turned to the small holo projector and raised his arms out, shoulder level. “Betrayal, Apogee? Of all the miscreants in this company, I never expected it would be from you.” He sounded hurt.
The swirling lights of the AI’s avatar appeared above the projector. “I’m sorry, Ka’Xarian. But Captain Samair is correct. She has already brought me over to her camp. And I am in every database on this station and I’ve already spoken to everyone here.”
“That is just… mean!” the zheen cried in despair.
“You can get ku’resh from plenty of sources,” Tamara told him. “There are plenty of places back on the planet, on the orbital, you could even have some shipped in from out system.” But then her smile grew vicious. “But you want the good stuff? You have to get it from me.”
He threw his hands up in the air, whirled around and stalked off. She could hear him hissing and clicking to himself, her implants helpfully providing the translation for all his incredible, non-repeating vulgarity. That bug had a hell of a mouth on him.
Trammen Gokon, commander of Lord Verrikoth’s stealth cutter Toroj, watched as another civilian vessel moved into very high orbit over the gas giant. The gas giant itself wasn’t all that remarkable, but it was what was in the planetary body that was interesting. The massive disk-shaped alien vessel of unknown origin was there, deep in the atmosphere.
“How long has that… thing been there?” he asked, leaning back in the command seat.
“Since we’ve been here, Trammen,” the zheen at the helm replied, not looking over at him.
He hissed. “Yes, Kag, I know that. I can read the sensor feeds too. Do we have any further information about how long that ship has actually been here in the system?”
Now Kag did turn around and face Gokon. The look he gave his commander was filled with such incredulity and such insubordination that Gokon hissed. He was up out of his chair, his pistol in his hand, pointed straight at the other zheen’s head. “You have something to say?”
“No, Trammen, I do not,” the pilot replied, his voice very level.
He put the gun away and went back to his command seat. “How many ships are in orbit now?”
The human sitting at the sensor console, now wary of his commander, answered very concisely. “Four, Trammen.” Then the console beeped. “Wait, there’s another ship coming into sensor range.”
“So five freighters then.”
“No, sir. That newest one has a power reading much higher than the rest of these ships,” the man said, pressing a few controls, checking the sensor feeds. “I think it’s a warship.”
Gokon was out of the chair and over to the sensor station. He checked over the feeds, looking over the man’s shoulders. “You’re right. It’s a corvette.”
The man nodded. “And it’s not one of ours.” Then he blinked and stared at the display. “It’s broadcasting a beacon ID for the Seylonique Navy.”
Gokon buzzed a chuckle. “They still have a Navy after what my Lord Verrikoth did to
their fleet? How is that possible?”
“Lord Verrikoth and the others tore the guts out of their fleet,” the man said, a huge grin on his face. Then he soured. “Well, exept for the battlecruiser and that destroyer of theirs. But neither of those is here, thankfully.”
The zheen shook his head, his antennae twitching. “It wouldn’t matter. We’re not going to be attacking anyone. We’re just sizing up a few prizes for my Lord.” His mandibles clacked. “Look at that thing,” he said, pointing to the display at the icon representing the Seylonique corvette. “Hovin, pull up the stats for the corvettes the fleet fought during the battle at Seylonique.” Toroj had been there for the battle, but had dropped below the plane of the ecliptic to maintain a lookout for the battlecruiser. It had never shown up and the cutter had essentially sat out the battle. It was an important job, he knew, but it still burned Gokon that he’d missed out in the biggest battle Lord Verrikoth’s forces.
Hovin hammered a few keys on his console, and a second later, a block of text appeared next to the information about the corvette currently in the Bimawae system. “Look, there. The power levels are lower, and there are two fewer cannons there in the flank batteries. It’s a whole new ship, not one of the ones fighting my Lord.” Gokon looked triumphant.
“So they do have their own fleet then?” Hovin replied, frowning, stroking his chin.
“Monitor that ship. Don’t go active,” Gokon warned and the man shook his head. “Get as much information about that ship as possible. We’re not going to attack them, but any information we can bring back to my Lord will make this trip worthwhile.”
He returned to his command seat and activated the display, looking at the massive alien vessel. “It makes more sense that this thing,” he said, waving a hand at the thing. “I mean look at it. It’s shifted position a few hundred kilometers within the atmosphere, but other than that?”
Hovin shook his head, glancing over his shoulder. “Nothing, Trammen. He’s not doing anything, just drawing in huge quantities of the local atmosphere.”
“But why?” Gokon raged. “What the flitz are they doing? Who are these… people?”
Hovering deep within the atmosphere of the planet, the vessel was drawing in huge quantities of the life-giving essence. The essence levels were slowly rising, allowing the People aboard to increase their consumption to two-thirds rations instead of half. That had increased crew morale considerably.
Jocana-Swift-Soaring gave a pulse of irritation, his manipulator tentacles twitching.
[You are troubled.] Torinal-Winged-Harmony was clearly concerned. [Our supplies of essence are rising, despite the massive amounts of impurities. We are back on two-thirds ration of consumption again. Does this not please you?]
[Of course, Decider. It is not the essence that bothers me, it is the agonizing slowness of the collection.] Jocana-Swift-Soaring tried to suppress his irritation. [We have been here in this… world… for far too many intervals, Decider.]
[I cannot deny this.] The Decider floated across from the opposite side of the chamber, coming to within a few meters. [And that we must continue to filter the essence to such a degree is a bother as well. But we must. We were very close to death, to the end. And while this is far from an ideal candidate for a new Home, it can sustain our lives. It is hard work, but we can bring the vessel back to its prime state.]
Golkakchuk-Golden-Entropy sent out a pulse. [I am deploying seekers now. We will begin bringing in raw materials to restore the shell of the vessel. It should have been done several intervals ago.]
An EM surge: humor. [I believe the imperative for survival, gathering up essence to revitalize the crew outweighed the need to allow the vessel to restore itself.]
[Seekers will find the materials in the rings and retrieve them for us.] Golkakchuk-Golden-Entropy was confident. [But the damage through metaspace was considerable. It will take many intervals to restore the vessel.]
Sections of the huge ship detached from the the main body, looking for all the world as though it had taken severe damage and its hull had breached. Debris started spalling outward from the “front” of the disk, from a section in the center in a ragged L-shape two kilometers in size, looking almost like puzzle pieces coming loose and flying free. There was some excitement from the crews of the various ships watching from above as the giant seemed to have burst. But a few seconds later, they all realized this wasn’t a breach in the titan’s hull.
“Captain Kreighton, I’ve analyzed the readings on the debris,” the sensor watch called. “I’m getting distortions in the readings; some sort of gravitational anomaly. It’s similar to the ones recorded by that cargo ship that originally found this behemoth, sir.”
Kreighton, a young man in his late twenties, an Academy graduate and grandson of an admin council member, stroked his chin. It wasn’t as though his familial and society connections hadn’t helped him get where he was in life. A corvette was hardly the strong arm and soul of the Seylonique Navy, but there were only so many command positions available. One had to start somewhere and with the external threats and dangerous neighbors and with the ever increasing prosperity in Seylonique, the Navy would continue to expand, for a short while longer. That meant promotion and Robert Kreighton planned to seize any opportunity that came his way.
“What have you found, Ensign?” he asked, bringing up his display. He could see the pieces of… ship… flying away from the behemoth and heading up out of the planetary atmosphere.
“Well, I don’t think this is the result of damage, Captain,” the man replied. “These… pieces seem to be under power.”
“We have an engine signature?”
“No, Captain, not precisely,” he went on, “but the gravitational anomalies seem to be altering the courses of the various parts. They’re not moving in a straight-line trajectory or being buffeted by the prevailing wind patterns from the atmosphere in the gas giant. They seem to be blossoming outward, heading toward the rings of the gas giant.”
Kreighton frowned. “You’re right. If they were on a straight line path from the ship they would be out in open space by now.” He considered the information on the display. “What’s in the rings that they could possibly be interested in?”
“No idea, sir. They don’t have grapples or tractoring beams deployed, certainly nothing that we’re familiar with,” the sensor officer replied.
They all sat and watched. Using the sensor readings on the displays, they could see that these chunks of hull material were moving into the rings, a small gravitic anomaly pulling the thing along. Or rather, Kreighton corrected himself, the thing is falling into the artificial singularity that each one is projecting. That’s a fascinating piece of technology. “Imagine what we could do with one of those,” he muttered to himself.
“Sir?” the sensor watch asked, turning to look at him.
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud. “Nothing. Just wondering how it is that they’re projecting those singularities for propulsion like that. If we could catch one of those things, could we reverse engineer the process?”
The man looked concerned. “I don’t know, sir,” he said after a moment’s thought. Clearly he wasn’t sure how to answer the captain’s question, afraid of how his commander would react. Was he looking for an actual answer? Was he just speculating aloud? Was he putting the question out there and expected that someone on the bridge would go away and come back with the answer he was looking for? What answer was he looking for?
“Me either,” Kreighton replied with a smirk. He didn’t take his eyes off the display. “Maybe we should see what we can do about getting one.” The rest of the bridge watch looked at each other with considering looks and smiles breaking out among the various watch standers. But then the captain waved one hand airily. “I’m not going to attack them, people. I don’t need mama out there getting upset because we hurt one of her cubs. We wait and we watch, and maybe an opportunity will present itself.”
The reason for the device
s soon became clear to the crew of Kingston and the other nearby ships. Focusing on one of them, Kreighton watched in fascination as the singularity disappeared from the “front” of the device and then another one appeared at the rear. The delta-v of the device suddenly dropped as the micro singularity started pulling the device in the other direction. He was amazed at the rate of deceleration and that the device wasn’t shredded in the process. That would be something to analyze and debate later. Once it was at a low enough speed, the main one collapsed and disappeared but others appeared for the barest instant, just enough to alter the trajectory of the device.
It closed in on one piece of rock floating around in the rings and once it was within a few dozen meters, a stuttering (that was the best work Kreighton could come up with to describe what the sensors were telling him) microsingularity appeared between the device and the rock. Then, a solid one appeared in a direction that would pull it out of the rings and back down into the atmosphere.
“It’s gathering minerals for the ship,” he breathed, a sentiment which was confirmed by the sensor watch a moment later. “Those are tugs.”
“They’re tugs,” Hovin reported. “But they don’t use tractoring beams or grapplers like we use. The artificial black holes that they seem to be able to control double as a tractor. Makes sense, it is a micro singularity.” He checked another feed. “And that stuttering effect keeps the rock moving along the right trajectory without gaining too much acceleration so it doesn’t slam into the back of the tug.”
“But it wouldn’t,” Gokon mused. “Slam into the tug, I mean. It would just get swallowed up by the singularity. And think about it. A projected singularity along the path of incoming missiles? It would just swallow them up, no damage taken. A perfect defense. I wonder if we can capture one of those tugs?”
A Greater Interest: Samair in Argos: Book 4 Page 48