The Gathering Storm (The New Federation Book 4)

by Chris Hechtl

  Which was the plan. She was certain that some bean counter had proposed the plan after finding out how prohibitively expensive it was to build cleansing camps and centers on each and every world. In a way, it was elegant in its simplicity. All one had to do is douse the planet and then let nature take its course. The population would be crippled and collapse under the strain of the plagues within weeks. What was left could easily be mopped up later or left to die as well.

  Ahab stared at her in surprise. “You aren't serious! They are aliens!”

  “And some of the viruses are targeted on Neos, remember?” she pointed out patiently.

  His brows knit in confusion. “Yes, so?”

  “So, the viruses can mutate. And some humans share some genes in common, Chimeras for example.” He grimaced in distaste but then nodded grudgingly. “And you might not like it, but we share a lot of genes in common with apes. Ninety-nine percent of our genetic code is the same as chimps and bonobos,” she stated mildly.

  He stared at her.

  “Look it up if you don't believe me, if you can find a source that isn't tainted. But, that's why they were the last Neo species to be expelled from Horath.” What she meant was that the apes that had remained had been eliminated, many of them in the games despite their loyalty to Horath.

  “I will.” He turned away with a fresh grimace. The reminder of the apes was something he, like many older Horathians, tried to forget. They had been rare even in his youth. He had done his best to forget having one or two as a friend and serving with them. The orders had gone out to cleanse the Gather Fleet as well. He wasn't certain though that every crew had been purged since it would take decades to get the message to some of the far-flung sectors.

  “How do you think your people in the Gather Fleet will react to the cleansing?” Sabina asked, studying him carefully.

  “I don't honestly know,” the pirate admiral admitted slowly as he sat back and crossed his ankles. “I don't know any of the players in Tau. I know from their records that many are old. Damn old. I don't even know if any of the original players are still alive.”

  “The records are out-of-date?”

  “By a couple of centuries. They have to be dead by now,” Ahab said with a shake of his head. “We've fallen off from sending them forces over the years. They were sending us a good cut of booty until we stopped resupplying them. But, the last messages were signed by some of the original officers, so they must have gotten their hands on some regen or taken stasis naps.”

  “Ah,” she replied with a nod.

  “I admit; it is stupid that we're so far behind in the records since Tau is so close. I mean its right next to this sector. But, we've spent the majority of our resources on Sigma and other sectors, which you know,” Ahab stated, waving a hand. Sabina nodded in understanding. “They fell through the cracks,” the admiral admitted, looking away with a fresh grimace.

  “Ah. Did you refresh your records?”

  “I wish. All I've got is names and dates. Most of the entries don't even have a photo! I think someone purged the database a little too zealously.”

  “Purged it on purpose?” she asked carefully, making a note for her own people to look into the matter.

  “I think so. I don't know at this point if it was to cover someone's tracks or something else,” he admitted. “This Vice Admiral Ishmael seems like a smart cookie. He might have done it before he left. The data codes say the erasure happened when he departed Horath over a century ago.” She grimaced and made a fresh note. The trail had long grown cold she acknowledged internally. “I have to admit I'm glad he's there and didn't involve himself in politics here,” Ahab continued, making her look up in surprise. “But, he'd have to be over a century in age by now so most likely we're talking about a descendant who's trying to hold onto the rank.”

  Sabina grimaced. “Not unheard of in the far-flung sectors.”

  “And also not unheard of in the Gather Fleet I admit,” Ahab said. “We don't have many flag officers, just a few in each sector. His rank is unusual to say the least. But, we also tend to recruit outsiders.” He meant press-gang them into service, those captives who didn't join willingly. “That's something else we're going to have to watch, who we bring in.”

  Sabina frowned and then caught on. “Worried about infiltration?”

  “Aren't you?” he snorted. “We caught a few people headed in this direction according to the reports I received. What did your people say?”

  “That they suicided when we tried to question them. Nothing there,” Sabina said with a shake of her head.

  “Damn. Pity we couldn't get more intel. How may I ask?”

  “You don't want to know.”

  “I mean, how could they do it? Hang themselves …,” Ahab frowned.

  “Internal.”

  “Oh, poison or something,” he said.

  She grimaced again. She'd seen one recording of someone her people had suspected as an enemy agent. They had just started in on harsher questioning methods when she'd just—melted. It hadn't been pretty. “Something like that,” she said when she realized he was looking at her.

  “So, the spot of good news about the Tau mission is that they might be an added distraction with the Federation, correct? Since the Feds will be all noble and chivalrous and want to contain the spread while also curing the sick,” Ahab said with a malicious smirk.

  Sabina nodded. “My sentiments exactly.”

  “Pity we can't do that behind the lines on their core worlds. Get them turned inward, make them throw resources at that. Hit their industrial workers, wear them down.”

  She grimaced. “We tried,” she admitted, remembering the mission to hit Antigua. The report from Nuevo Madrid had come in that Prinz Zir had diverted the strike to Epsilon Triangula in order to try to take out Irons. It had failed.

  That had been her predecessor's mission and she was glad. Using Xeno bioweapons was asking for trouble. Talk about playing with fire! If that had spread, she shuddered slightly then regained her self-control.

  “Tried …?” he frowned and then shook his head when she didn't elaborate further. “But, failed I take it?” She nodded once. He sighed. “Well, now they'll be forewarned and on guard then.”

  She nodded again. “And most likely vaccinating their people against the most dangerous pathogens they can think of. So, I'm not going to bother trying again with that.”

  He cocked his head to consider what she had said and then reluctantly nodded in reply. “I wouldn't bother either; they might be screening ships to look for invasive methods. Okay, so what else? What can we do to slow them down?”

  She recognized the we in his statement as an invitation to work together, which was fine. Her Intelligence Ministry relied heavily on the Gather Fleet to get information and pass it on. She just didn't want to share the blame if something went wrong on his end. “I've got my people looking into that. Sabotage is looking like an important tool. As is asymmetrical warfare. Inserting the assets or finding and activating assets already embedded will be a problem.”

  “A … you mean an insurgency? Terror tactics other than biological weapons? Something more localized?”

  “Exactly,” she replied with a nod.

  “Do your people need a ride in or …?” he cocked his head.

  “I'm sorry, Ahab, but your people aren't what I'd call subtle. We've got it covered,” she replied. He grimaced but then it was his turn to nod.

  “All right then,” he murmured.

  There was a silence for a moment. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Anything else?”

  “You called this meeting. Though I should put my request in for some of those water dwellers I suppose,” he said.

  She shot dagger looks at him for a long moment. “You know damn well your people have been hogging those they do find instead of sending them back to the homeworld. Don't give me that innocent look,” she accused. “I know of several incidents; the most recent was Ssilli involved in the Bounty inci
dent.”

  He winced. “Yes, not our shiniest moment I admit,” he muttered.

  “You’re damn right. Why Rico let her remain on board; I don't understand. They should have sent her straight back here, not tried to use her.”

  “I can't fault your sentiment and yes, they fracked up by the numbers. I won't defend them much; after all, they are dead. I will say that standard protocol is to use what assets you can in the field. Having a water dweller with her unique sets is just too tempting to let go of.” He frowned when a fresh thought came to him. “How do we know it was a she?”

  “The report. Javier sent a report back by courier. We got it. It was processed. I recently took a fresh look at that incident and the Ssilli is one of the things that stuck.”

  Ahab nodded. “Ah.”

  “Even though we've got the Picans, I'd appreciate it, and I believe Malwin and the emperor would appreciate it, if you would impress upon your people to pass on any others they stumble across promptly,” she said, “as well as anything else we might use. Especially now, when we need it so badly.”

  He grimaced and then nodded as he got up. “I take it you'll look into the data issue?”

  “It's a little late, and the barn door is off the hinges if it's been this long. But, yes, I'll get someone to look into it,” she said as he turned back to her. “Can you get someone to talk to the oldsters? See if anyone remembers him?”

  “Not many of my people that old are still alive and kicking. Many … well, let's just say the best burn out the fastest,” he said as he got to the door.

  “Not best by a long shot,” she replied under her breath as he exited with a parting hand wave. He did have a point though; not many in the Gather Fleet lived long enough to retire. Those that did got out after a major find and invested in other people's ventures or went off to become minor lords to tyrannize their serfs on distant holdings. She made a fresh note for her own people to do some looking into the matter.

  :::{)(}:::

  Mara stood passively as she'd been taught. She kept her face impassive; some of the technicians hadn't been happy about any of the subjects showing too much bliss. She wanted to please the technicians and doctors.

  “You may proceed, Mara,” a familiar voice said.

  “Yes, Doctor,” she murmured as she turned to the assembled students. “Let's begin, shall we?” she said cheerfully, ignoring the looks a few of the students shot to the observers.

  Doctor Staten Milgram, Mara's handler, turned to Doctor Nutelle, head of the facility, and Doctor Lacie Mengla, minister of biosciences. “They are looking good,” the chocolate-skinned dame murmured as her cold eyes studied the subjects.

  “Sydney, pay attention,” Mara said, calling a Pican female child who had been sneaking glances at the observers to order. The girl turned and made a show of being attentive.

  “We have plenty of tissue samples now. More than enough for the first phases. We've been given the go ahead to make up the initial phases in parallel to the production line,” Doctor Nutelle said in an aside to them.

  “I know. I just saw your quarterly budget request. It is going to be tricky getting it through the House. Did you have to spend so much on plastic surgery? That wasn't in the budget,” the dame complained.

  “Blame that one on the navy. They insisted we alter the subjects, ma'am,” Doctor Milgram stated.

  “Ah.” She frowned. Most of the subjects in the room were female. The males were being sleep taught some of what they needed to know.

  “I read that you moved from milking to removal? Was that wise?”

  “It was a full castration, ma'am,” Doctor Nutelle said with a shrug. “But, not just to make the males more docile and controllable. We removed their reproductive tissue and preserved it.”

  “Ah.” She nodded slowly. The facility contained labs where past subjects had been preserved. Unfortunately, none had been preserved in stasis chambers. Some of the earlier preservation methods had been primitive. An assessment of the degraded or contaminated tissue had led to the belief that most was unusable for their purposes. But, it hadn't been thrown out. Instead, Doctor Nutelle had performed necropsies on them and had used them to train his assistants.

  Which was another expense.

  She studied the teacher's profile. The subject known as Mara was pregnant. Doctor Milgram had implanted her with a series of embryos. “How is she progressing,” she asked, nodding her chin to the teacher.

  “Quite well.”

  “I meant her pregnancy,” the dame said impatiently.

  “Oh, ah, so far so good. We passively monitor them daily. She is due for her weekly checkup tomorrow. We do full ultrasonic scans along with the usual blood work and checkup to monitor the gestation process.”

  “How many is she carrying?” the dame asked as the blue skinned woman touched her slightly swollen belly and then ran a hand through her black locks to brush it over the ears.

  “Eight,” Doctor Nutelle said proudly. “All from our closest genetic match.”

  “Eight?” the dame demanded turning on them. “Are you insane?”

  “We won't risk her health. We will have her carry them to minimum term. When they become too much of a burden we will perform a C-section and move the fetuses to artificial uterines for their final term. By then we should have enough data to replicate their environment successfully.”

  “But, you won't induce rapid growth?”

  “No, not in the initial generation, we need a baseline after all. The second generation we will take smaller steps. When we are comfortable, we will have a baseline of material to draw on to pick up speed.”

  “You do realize we need them now. I had a devil of a time getting funding for this project. That means I need to show positive results soon.”

  “The males we will be releasing for use should facilitate that, ma'am,” Doctor Milgram said. She turned to him. He was clearly unhappy about letting them out of his clutches but more or less resigned to it.

  “That is a small step in the right direction, ma'am,” Doctor Nutelle said with a nod. The dame grunted in acknowledgment.

  She had to admit, they were progressing further than she had expected in such a short period of time. Part of that was due to the decades of preparation and study. But, another part was due to Doctor Milgram's careful choice of subject matter. Finding Picans and especially the female before them was a stroke of genius. They weren't as effective as Selkies, extinct cetaceans or Ssilli, not by a long shot, but they were adaptable to humans. They looked almost human—if you ignored the skin color and other traits that the plastic surgery hadn't quite managed to cover up.

  “With the third generation, we will have sufficient data on their gestation process and the fetus development to induce forced growth. That will rapidly mature them. We will have to do that in the artificial uteruses since the females will not be able to provide sufficient food for the growing fetuses, nor would their bodies be able to handle the rapidly enlarging fetus.”

  “Ah. And you'll begin smoothing out their genetic heritage? Along with making sure they have the right mindset?” the dame asked.

  “That is the plan,” Doctor Nutelle murmured with a nod as they watched the young female eagerly answer a question about how to helm a ship. He couldn't help but smile in approval at her show of acceptance of her role. Not that the females would be used for such purposes anytime soon.

  The current plan was for the males to be sent out while the females were used as breeding stock. Once they had enough uterine replicators going, they would phase the females into service as well while keeping some as a ready pool of genetic material as well as to provide maternal care for the young.

  “We're continuing to refine their indoctrination. It will be far easier with the newer generations of course. They will only know what knowledge we provide,” Doctor Milgram murmured. The other two doctors nodded.

  “Making the appearance changes through genetic modification will simplify things. And it wi
ll reduce expenses tremendously,” Doctor Nutelle explained.

  “What about biodiversity? Are you cloning them?”

  “No, we have built a bank of ova and sperm. We will crossbreed as widely as possible,” Doctor Nutelle stated.

  “Good. We need thousands of them as close to her model as we can get,” the dame murmured, indicating Mara. “And we need them yesterday. Can you do anything about the maturity index?”

  “The full Picans age at half normal human speed. That is they reach full size and sexual maturity in five and a half years versus our eleven and thirteen. Their puberty period is shorter. The problem is slowing it down once they get to adults. If we don't, they'll burn out.”

  “Oh.”

  “The current plan is to have a minimum helm team of water dwellers on every courier and capital ship and then move downward,” the dame said.

  “Couriers, ma'am? Since when was that added?” Doctor Nutelle protested.

  “It came from on high. I can see the logic; they will speed up information flow. At this time, that is important.”

  “But, we only have a finite supply. Getting them all in place …,” Doctor Nutelle shook his head. “It really will take years, ma'am.”

  “Then you better find ways to get more of them into production. Fast. The more groundwork you do now, the more we'll have in the pipeline for later.”

  From the way she had said that, it was clear there was no room for argument. Doctor Milgram grimaced.

  “Can we do something about how they look? The … fish smell?” the woman asked, wrinkling her nose.

  “We've done about as much as we can with plastic surgery now. The problem is if we change too much they lose that something special that makes them who they are. We're experimenting with isolating the changes. But, we've tried before just giving the changes to subjects with host mothers,” Doctor Nutelle stated.