by B. V. Larson
“No,” I said. “I wanted to defeat the machines. I wanted to stop them from damaging your people and your worlds. I’ve failed to achieve my goals today. This was a great defeat for the side of the biotics, for our shared side.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said the voice. “You’ve won our allegiance. Our unquestioning loyalty and effectively, our obedience. We are at your mercy. What is your will, my ruler?”
“What? I want to help you. Tell me what you need, and I will attempt to provide it.”
“There is no need for further deceptions, Great One,” the translator warbled. “The slave does not dictate to the master. We accept our role, and wish only that you will in turn allow the few remaining members of our species to survive this day. We will grovel, if we must. We will scrape our shells from our flesh, if that is your will.”
I was alarmed and saddened. Not only did these people seem crushed, they were certain I had wanted it that way all along. They believed I had personally plotted their downfall.
After having dealt with the Crustaceans for years, I knew they were not like us. They did not understand actions taken out of benevolence. Such behavior did not cause them to reciprocate, it only made them suspect a trick. Perhaps this was because they were not mammals. Maybe they didn’t have a layer to their brains that allowed for interspecies compassion.
My mind raced, unsure as to how to proceed. I fell back on my past experiences with alien species. Often, it was best to be adaptable, as they usually weren’t. If my mind could flex, the two races could come to an understanding for the betterment of all.
When working with the Centaurs, who were hung-up on the concepts of honor and herd-values, I’d learned to talk to them in their own idiomatic way. This had allowed us to form a tight, valuable alliance.
This situation required more of the same adaptability on my part. Accordingly, I took a deep breath, and went for it.
“I’ve considered the matter,” I said loudly. Around me, the staffers watched and listened intently without seeming to.
“I’ve decided to accept the capitulation of the Crustaceans to Star Force,” I said matter-of-factly.
This elicited a series of gasps and twitters around the bridge. I ignored them all. I didn’t care about them at the moment. I had to save the Crustaceans from extinction. If they wanted a strong leader who was so terrible that he must be obeyed, I’d give them one. At least they could understand that relationship.
“What are your terms, Colonel?”
“There are no terms,” I said firmly, “other than total obedience and servitude.”
“We accept your terms. We beg for our lives.”
“They are granted. Now, you must answer a series of queries. No omission or deceit will be tolerated.”
“None shall be offered. Ask us what you will, Master.”
I stumbled upon hearing them call me “Master”. My staffers seemed scandalized as well. The level of background whispering swelled dramatically on the bridge.
I glanced toward Jasmine, who was looking at me reproachfully with her arms crossed under her breasts. She appeared to be shocked by this turn of events.
I had to stay in character, so I turned away from her. It helped me to think clearly. “Are any of your worlds habitable?”
“No, Master.”
“You will address me as ‘Colonel’, not ‘Master’, is that understood?”
“Absolutely. Our apologies are profuse, Colonel. We did not mean to offend.”
“Can you use your transports to salvage your civilian survivors?”
“Very few of them can be reached. The radioactive tides are rolling around the worlds, killing everything they contact. The atmospheres are so turbulent they are leaking away into space.”
I closed my eyes, then opened them again. The scale of this disaster was incalculable.
“You will gather every strong, fit individual that you can with your transports,” I told them. “You will do this immediately, and keep in mind you must create a breeding population.”
“Where are we going to go when we have saved all that we can?”
“You will come with us. We have a world in the Eden System that is warm and largely covered by one vast ocean. It will be your new home. We must abandon the Thor System for now. Once you reach Eden, you will be on the safe side of our battle station, and Star Force will protect you from further attacks by the machines as best we can.”
“Your wish is our command,” the voice said. “Your command is our prayer.”
Jasmine touched my arm, and pointed to the screens. I could see their transports moving off in several directions, dropping down into the turbulent atmospheres of their dying worlds. They would gather as many as they could, and they would come to a new world with me. It was the least I could do for them.
“We’ll talk more when you’ve gathered your people.”
“May I say one thing, Colonel?” asked the voice.
“Yes.”
“Let me offer my sincerest praise. You have played this game masterfully. We were fooled from the first by your feigned idiocy. Now, we see the true genius behind your actions. I have awarded your people eleven full points on the cognitive scale. No species has ever scored so highly.”
I blinked, and almost smiled. But I couldn’t quite do it. The whole situation was too horrible to be amusing.
A moment later I realized who this individual I was talking to must be. I’d spoken to him before and talked about humanity’s cognitive score at that time.
“Is this Professor Hoon?” I asked.
“That is my designation, unless you want me to change it, Colonel.”
“The title fits you, Hoon,” I said. “Keep it.”
“Thank you, Colonel. Thank you.”
-42-
I was in my anteroom just after the dayshift ended when a visitor rapped at my door. Of all people, Captain Gaines had come to see me.
“Congratulations,” I told him after inviting him in, “you survived the great failed campaign of Thor-6. Billions of others didn’t, but you did.”
“Yes, sir.”
“May I ask why you’re here?”
“I think you know, sir.”
I frowned, but then nodded after thinking back. “I promised to make you a major, didn’t I?” I said. “And now you’re here to collect.”
“That’s right, sir.”
I waggled a finger at him.
“All right,” I said. “Zap! You’re a major now. Next time you wade into combat on some rat hole, you’ll command a battalion rather than a company. Are you happy now?”
He stared at me thoughtfully. “No, sir. I don’t think ‘happy’ correctly describes my mood.”
I snorted and shook my head. I figured he would leave once he had his promotion, but he didn’t. He lingered, looking troubled.
I took in a deep breath. I wasn’t really in the mood for having a heart-to-heart, but sometimes a commander needed to provide guidance to his officers. I realized this was going to be one of those times.
Accordingly, I reached down under my desk and opened a small hatch in the floor. A number of chilled squeeze-bottles of beer were stashed there. I scooped out two of them and pushed one across my desk to Gaines. The bottle left a streak of white ice crystals on my desk, and he caught it neatly.
“May I?” he asked, indicating an empty chair.
I nodded and opened my beer. He did the same. We quickly gulped down our beverages with greed. There was something about a perfectly chilled beer. It demanded to be consumed with gusto.
When he was done, he set down the bottle and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
Again, I waited for him to leave. He asked me a question instead. This man had asked me a hell of a lot of questions since I’d first met up with him on Yale. But this one surprised me.
“Colonel,” he said, “why don’t you just make yourself a general? I mean, come on, get real. You command big armies and fleets. You’re at least
a general.”
“That’s a good question,” I said, pulling out fresh beers for both of us. I slid his to him, and saw that the trail of ice crystals the first beer had left hadn’t even melted to droplets yet.
“You see,” I said, “I just made you a Major. That process felt real, didn’t it? It felt real, because I’m in authority over you. Everyone accepts that state of affairs. So, if I give you a rank, everyone accepts the rank. In my case, things are different. I don’t have anyone above me at the moment to award me a higher position. I’d have to just declare it, without anyone having approved anything. That would make it feel wrong—as if I’d cheated somehow.”
Gaines squinted at me while he worked on his beer. I did the same. He seemed to honestly understand the nature of my problem.
“How about we all get together and vote, or something?” he asked. “What if we all vote, and whatever we come up with, that will be your new rank.”
“Not a bad idea, but I’d be a little concerned I’d end up as a dog-catcher if I did that.”
We both laughed. It was possibly the first real laugh I’d had since the lobsters had gotten collectively boiled.
Gaines had made me realize I had a problem. A problem with my legitimacy. Upon what basis did my authority rest? I wasn’t sure. I’d frozen my rank long ago because I didn’t feel I had the right to give myself a higher rank. Someone else had to bless it, or it wasn’t real.
Back when Crow had at least been nominally in charge, I’d felt that I’d earned the promotions he’d given me. I’d believed there was some validity to my rise in rank. Maybe I’d been fooling myself, but I’d felt it. The promotions had seemed right.
But now, Crow had gone and declared himself an emperor. What would separate me from him if I made myself a general, king or even a god? What right did I have to do that? What would separate me from Crow if I pulled a stunt like that?
And so I’d stuck with the rank of Colonel.
“These aliens…” I said when we’d reached beer number four—or was it five? “They came at night, they plucked us from our beds, and they made us what we are today. They made us organize to fight for them. But there’s no nation behind us.”
“I understand what you’re saying, sir. You want to know what makes your power legitimate. I think I have an answer for you: The fact that people follow you.”
“Maybe. Maybe that’s the best answer of all.”
“Damn straight it is,” he said with feeling. “If you shout an order and people obey, who’s to say that you didn’t have the right to give the order in the first place?”
“I understand what you’re saying,” I told him, “but I’m seeking more legitimacy than that. Napoleon crowned himself emperor, you know. He took the crown from the pope who stepped up to his throne, and he placed it on his own head. He did that because he figured if the churchman crowned him, that meant the church had authority over him. I feel the opposite urge. I don’t want to be the man who crowned himself ruler. I want a body, a group, a legitimate organization of some kind to decide who I am and what I deserve for my efforts.”
He nodded in understanding. His fingers made a scratching motion on my desk, and I automatically fed them a fresh brew.
I looked at him suddenly at that point in our conversation.
“You didn’t come here and hang around my office to ask for advice, did you Gaines?”
He shook his head. A wintery smile played on his lips.
“You thought I was the one that needed to talk?” I asked.
“That’s right, Colonel.”
“Well, let me ask you this, Major: Who has the right to rule, and why?”
“I don’t know about that, sir,” Gaines answered. “But I do know that someone has to be at the top. And right, now, that’s you.”
I couldn’t argue with the man, so I handed him another beer from my stash. He smiled as he received it.
“I’ve got another story for you,” I said. “Did you know that Genghis Khan had a rule concerning his officers and drunkenness?”
“What was it?”
“That no commander of his could be caught drunk more than once a month. If he was caught drinking hard more often than that, he would be reduced in rank.”
Gaines appeared concerned. “Seems like a good rule,” he said. “But is this your way of taking back my promotion?”
“Have you gotten drunk yet this month?”
“No, sir,” he said, shaking his head with mock sadness. “Unfortunately, no.”
“I’ve got an easy solution for that.”
He grinned, and I rolled out more icy drinks.
Much later, I found myself slumped over my desk.
I dreamt of Sandra. She’d been carried off by a marching row of metal ants on a sunless world, and I couldn’t find her in the darkness.
When morning arrived, Major Gaines and I were in a sorry state. Even the nanites had trouble cleaning up my office. Fortunately, my kind recover quickly from physical neglect. It is our minds and spirits that heal slowly.
The way I saw it, my enemies had given me a difficult choice: which one of them to destroy first. Both the Empire and the Macros had landed heavy blows that demanded retribution. Crow and his baloney empire had snuck into my territory under a flag of truce and killed my lady love. I thought of revenge against him constantly. The Macros had slaughtered three worlds full of biotics. They were impossibly dangerous and evil.
And in addition to these two sworn enemies, there was a third that was rising as a potential threat: the Blues.
We’d been observing strange phenomena from their gas giant, Eden-12, for months. The activity had increased, as had the level of energy releases. According to Marvin, they now regularly generated more EM output than the entirety of Earth. What in the nine hells were they up to?
I’d begun to suspect in my heart that I’d misjudged them. I’d always thought of them as neutrals that could possibly become future allies. I’d believed them when they’d said they’d released the machines by accident.
But possibly, I’d been duped. Some I’d spoken with had expressed regrets, while others had been remorseless. They hadn’t cared about the billions their creations had slaughtered. Perhaps they weren’t all of one mind on this topic.
But again, maybe that was by design. How do you conquer the universe without loss? Well, you get someone else to do it for you, and you back them in secret, and you play dumb when questions are asked. That way, the dirty job gets done while you maintain your ivory tower innocence.
My mind was finally eased the day after Gaines and I had gotten piss-drunk together. Relief came from an unexpected source.
Miklos came into my office with a large file on a tiny portable data-chip. The chip was about the size of a nickel and glossy black.
He flipped the coin-sized chip onto my desk. Immediately, the desk sensed it, linked with it, and began dragging files out to display. He paged through them with his fingers expertly, searching for something.
I watched him with raised eyebrows. I’d been sipping a fresh beer, my second of the afternoon. I quietly dropped the bottle on the floor between my feet and the ship’s deck swallowed it. I knew the squeeze-bottle of delicious liquid would be released into space, where it would freeze and drift away with the rest of the debris our ships dumped every day. I didn’t like wasting beer like that, but I didn’t like letting my officers know I’d been drinking before dinnertime lately.
“To what do I owe this visit, Commodore?” I asked him.
“I have it right here, sir. One moment…ah, here it is.”
He flicked a particularly large diagram out onto the desktop. It dwarfed the rest, and I realized in an instant it was a ship design document. The ship was big—very big.
“Another carrier design?”
“Exactly, sir,” he said.
“We already have a pretty functional model,” I said. “Let me guess, you want permission to upgrade?”
“No, sir,”
he said. “I want to leave the two ships we have as they are. It would not be cost effective to upgrade them, other than possibly adding a few components. These new ships will form an entirely new class of carrier.”
I examined the diagram, expanding it with my fingers to fill my desk. “This thing is huge,” I chuckled. “Why should I build such a monstrosity?”
Miklos smiled at me knowingly, and leaned on my desk. “This ship will allow us to extend our reach,” he said. “This is an attacker’s weapon. It can perform many tasks, but most importantly it is effectively a floating battle station, like this one—only mobile.”
“What are you calling it?”
“A super-carrier.”
“How many do you think we should build?”
“One, sir. To start with…then another, and another. As many as it takes.”
“As many as it takes to do what?”
“To carry the attack to the enemy.”
I stared at him thoughtfully. “And who do you think that enemy should be?”
Miklos raised his hands with his palms up. “I don’t know. That’s not my job. I fight the battles, you start the wars. But these ships will take out anyone you aim them at.”
I sat back in my office chair thoughtfully. He had me there. I did want to attack.
“You’re right, Miklos,” I said. “For years, we’ve sat out here in the Eden System, far from home. We’ve built up an independent colony, but no one recognizes our right to exist. We’ve been on the defensive, while waves of enemies attempt to destroy us. They haven’t managed to strike a fatal blow, but they are certainly wearing us down. We’ve faced battle after battle on two fronts for too long. I’d hoped the Macros could be stopped by my battle station. I’d hoped the Empire would come to its senses and normalize relations with Eden. These hopes have not borne fruit.”
I stood up as I spoke and walked to a window I’d installed in the far wall. It was a real, honest window made of lead-impregnated glass. The nanites had to work overtime to keep it from fogging up, but I enjoyed gazing through it with my own eyes and seeing the universe outside as it really was. Viewscreens could only approximate reality.