by Bill Roberts
“This factory is like none you have ever seen or heard of,” Art replies. “We do not even use tooling. Furthermore, everything is automated and centrally controlled. The Watchers have shown us some great things about how to manipulate raw materials. We match these techniques with what we know of 3D printing. Major components are simply spit out from a whole bank of machines that take different kinds of raw materials and can spit out anything. After the subcomponents get produced machines feed the larger ones into a line where multi-function assembly robots take over.” He hits another button and vaguely humanoid machine appears in the display. “These robots assemble the larger components. After that the Kodiak is moved to a nanite bath.” He hits another button and the display shows a Kodiak dropping into a large silvery pool. “In the nanite bath the smaller components are joined to the machine and all the finishing work gets done.”
“That is frigging awesome,” Breckenridge says. “Can we see that?”
“We’ll be heading out to the floor right after this brief,” Art replies. “I have a couple more things to point out first.” He hits another button on the remote and a time lapse video with time stamps starts playing, showing the whole process. “We can go from raw materials to completed Kodiak in about three hours. This factory has twenty lines. So essentially we can spit out one hundred and sixty Kodiak’s a day if we go into full production. We could not maintain that for long. They require a lot of raw materials. We would run through over twenty thousand tons of materials a day. The important thing is that when it comes time to start equipping Kodiak battalions we will be able to give them the latest model and we don’t have to worry about silly things like lead time at all.”
I pick up that thread: “That’s one of the reasons we brought you here today. I know most people just expect weapons to magically appear and don’t give it much thought. But, before the Watchers this process took years, decades even. Not anymore. We want you to know that equipment is not going to be our problem. The long pole in the tent is pilots. And that is what you all are here for.” I turn to Art and continue: “You got anything else, Art?”
He shakes his head and says: “Unless there are any questions we have pretty much covered everything.” We both look around the room. I would not say that nobody has any questions, but it appears that they are good for now. I nod at Art and he continues: “All right then. I am going to take you to the floor now. We will have to get you some protective equipment, but that is easy enough to do. After the tour we will come back here and have lunch. You will have a chance to ask the engineers questions while we eat.”
Breckenridge leans over to Stanton and says a little bit too loudly: “I wonder if the one with the ponytail is single. She’s gorgeous.”
Art looks like he can’t believe what he just heard. Before he can say anything I say: “Breckenridge, Monica DeSanto is a brilliant woman with two doctorates in engineering, one from Harvard, and one from Stanford. In short she is smarter, more valuable, and cooler than you’ll ever be. Not only that, she is married with three kids. Now will you quit acting like an idiot so we can start our tour.” I like Breckenridge, but good God, that was rude. DeSanto is gorgeous, but that does not give one license to treat her like that.
“Sorry Sir,” Breckenridge replies.
I scowl and turn to Art and say: “I think we’re ready when you are.”
“Okay,” Art replies. He gestures to the group and continues: “Gentlemen if you will follow me.”
I follow after my students. As we head to the equipment room to get our safety gear I think about our earlier discussion. I really do believe it. I know it down to the marrow of my bones. We are going to win. But, I am desperately afraid of what price we will have to pay. I think of Liz and Esther and Josh. I pray, for the millionth time, that God will protect them when the hammer falls. The alternative does not even bear thinking about.
CHAPTER 17
Skullduggery
In life there are many, many firsts. Some are big, like a first kiss, or the first time you drive a car by yourself. Some are small, like the first time you try a new food, or the first time you meet a person. As I stand in the Admiral’s stateroom aboard the Quincy I am treated to two firsts, one of each. The little first is quite fun. I have only been working with Commodore Duquesne for six months or so, between the workups for the deployment and our short time out here on the border. In that time I have never seen her out of sorts. Right now she looks and acts completely stunned. Under any other circumstances this would have been an ideal time for some splendid bantering. However, the other first I am witnessing overshadows that desire. In our long friendship Bennie and I have seen and done many things together. To this point I would have sworn that the dapper, fun loving Benedict Jones-Fairly would never be at a loss for words. It was an impossibility. Bennie has a response for everything no matter how crazy. Well that would have been a fool’s oath.
Bennie is completely, totally, and in all other ways at a loss for words. His mouth moves up and down, but no noise comes out. Truly, I am witnessing a miracle. I look over at the woman standing across the room. She too looks unable to continue speaking after her outburst. The silence brought about by her statement grows and stretches. I do not dare break it. I would like to say that I maintain my silence to give my friend a chance to recover in peace. Nope. I just want to marvel at this moment. I will probably never see him at a loss for words again. I look over at the Commodore. She looks like she has recovered and is about to say something. I shake my head at her violently. She looks at me quizzically. I hold a finger up to my lips for silence. She frowns at me. The Commodore is a good sort, but she does tend to focus on the mission a bit too much.
Before I get into a pantomime argument with my Task Group commander Bennie finally manages to produce a sound: “You were dead. They said everything at the ministry was pure carnage. And then later I looked. I swear to God I looked for you for months until the confirmed death lists came out and you were on it.”
The woman looks stricken. She says: “Benedict, I had no idea. Everything was in complete chaos after the invasion. All the reports said that your entire unit got wiped out outside of Plymouth. I should have checked later, but …” Her words trail off heavily.
Benedict comes to some sort of realization and his face begins to cloud with anger. I decide it is time to interrupt. However, as I prepare to say something the Commodore makes the same decision and she says crisply: “We do not have time for this. Major Jones-Fairly you and Agent Green will have to sort this out later.” Bennie looks ready for mutiny for a moment but quickly brings himself under control as the Commodore continues: “As I was saying before Agent Green interrupted me, you two are the only people with a security clearance high enough for this situation in the Task Group. You both have Top Secret – Unrestricted, which I had never even heard of until Agent Green asked.” The Commodore is too professional to show it openly, but she cannot completely hide that she is burning with curiosity. “I do not have Unrestricted clearance so I have no idea what Agent Green was doing down on that planet, nor what she intends to do next. I am, however, able to confirm that she is in fact working for the Ministry of Intelligence and has the authority to ask for and receive anything from this Task Group that will support her mission.” The Commodore looks squarely at Bennie and me, holds our gaze for a moment to ensure we understand what she just told us then continues: “You two gentlemen will assist Agent Green with whatever she needs. If there are any other requirements that come up I will support them promptly. You may have use of my quarters for as long as it is necessary; I have made separate berthing arrangements. Furthermore, I assure you this room is absolutely secure.” With that she squares herself and strides out of the room with the same intensity she has displayed since we boarded the ship.
Alone the three of us look at each other silently. The Commodore’s stateroom is set up like a hotel suite. We are in a small sitting room wi
th a couch at the far end and a coffee table and chairs at the near end. There is a very old white flag with gold fleur-de-lis stitched upon it in a case above the couch. The furniture is all bolted to the floor, this is after all a warship, but it is still the nicest furniture I have ever seen aboard a ship. The leather on the furniture gives the room a warm comfortable aroma. Must be nice to be a Commodore.
Agent Green holds a finger up to her lips and walks over towards us. As she crosses the small room she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small device. She hits a button and it comes to life as she sets it on the coffee table. She sits down in one of the plush chairs set around the table. She is not particularly striking. Average height, sandy blonde hair, her face is not classically beautiful. She looks young and vibrant, as all people with nanites do, but again nothing striking. Then I look closely at her eyes. That I think sets her apart. They are a deep gray, full of hidden currents and crashing waves.
“Now this place is secure,” she says. She turns her head towards Bennie and continues: “Benedict, I am so sorry. I honestly thought you were dead. If I had known otherwise …” Again she trails off.
Bennie’s baritone burns with anger as he returns: “Well you didn’t try too bloody hard to make sure now did you?”
I have rarely seen Bennie so angry. I decide to defuse the situation by changing the subject a bit. I say: “Uh, I hate to interrupt, but perhaps some introductions are in order. My name is Shawn Morris and I am the CO of 2nd Heavy Armored.”
She opens her mouth to reply but Bennie preempts her angrily: “This is Cait Mainwaring, who apparently still works for the Ministry of Intelligence, despite being officially dead for over thirty years.” Mary, Mother of God. This is the Cait. My attempt at calming things down crashes in flames as Bennie adds: “And who also apparently has no real concern for people who thought they meant everything to her.” I can feel the hurt anger coming off him like heat from a flame.
The smooth professional expression Cait had adopted after the Commodore left disappears as she shoots to her feet. Her anger matches Bennie’s as she says: “I thought I had lost everyone. Dad and Mum didn’t make it out of London, little Sarah was on her mobile talking to me when the Synti caught her, and you,” she balls her fist angrily, “you were dead. The report came from MoD direct. I still remember the bloody words:
At zero eight hundred, Twenty-Nine July Two Thousand Nineteen Alpha Company 40 Commando made contact with an overwhelming force of Synti. Their last communications came at zero eight forty. At that time they reported they were down to less than ten percent effectives, and were being overrun. Based on Synti treatment of prisoners the entire unit is presumed dead.”
Her anger melts away and she slumps. “I was devastated.”
Bennie’s anger rises. He says: “I miss you every day of my life. Every day I wish you were still alive. Why the Hell didn’t you try and find me after the war? I know you could have done it if you really wanted to.”
His anger fuels Cait’s. She starts shouting: “You arrogant bastard. Don’t think you were the only one wishing the other was alive. But I knew you were dead. I could not stand it. I volunteered for the most dangerous thing I could find. You have no idea what I have been doing for the last thirty years. You think dropping in a Kodiak is dangerous? It is nothing.”
I have had about all of this I can stand. With absolute command I say: “That is enough!” They both turn towards me. Their expressions tell me they had forgotten all about me. I continue, growing angrier with every word: “I would give anything to be in your position right now you … you idiots. You know nothing about me, Cait. But let’s just say that the Synti took everything from me too. If I was able to see my Liz again I would weep for joy.” I draw a deep breath and expel it slowly letting the anger seep out with it. “For God’s sake, don’t you realize the gift you’ve both been given?”
They both look back at each other. I watch the anger evaporate. I watch the reality of the two of them being reunited settle in. Without a word I leave. Not because this is something they deserved to do alone, even though that is true, but because I cannot bear to watch it. I could normally keep thoughts of Liz at bay, but this on top of what had happened with the XO, and Liz is all I can thing about. I make it to the passageway before I break down. I lean against the wall and slump to the floor. I bury my head in my hands and I weep shamelessly.
I am not alone in the passageway long. Maybe five minutes go by and the hatch opens next to me. Bennie pokes his head out and says: “Shawn?” He sees me slumped against the wall and kneels down next to me. “I’m sorry Shawn. I’m so sorry.” He puts his hand on my back and being one of my best friends just waits.
I pull myself together. There are things to be done. Being a guy I have to say something humorous after getting caught crying by another guy. It is just the way things work. I say: “Cait isn’t married or anything is she? Because, that is going to make for one hell of an awkward scene. I would so want to be there for that. I bet you could challenge him to pistols at dawn.”
Bennie smiles at me as he helps me to my feet. “I haven’t asked yet. No worries. The way she kissed me after you left leaves no doubt in my mind who shall prevail in her affections.”
I laugh and say: “I can’t believe you just said ‘prevail in her affections.’” I laugh again and then grow serious. “Benedict Jones-Fairly, I am so happy for you there aren’t words to describe it.”
“Thanks mate,” he replies.
“Well there’s work to be done. Let’s get to it,” I say. I head back into the stateroom with Bennie following behind me.
Cait is standing next to the coffee table when we return. She looks at me serenely as I walk over. “Thank you,” she says.
“For what?” I ask.
Bennie sidles up next to her and puts an arm around her waist. She replies: “For stopping us from being idiots.”
“Yeah, thanks for that,” Bennie adds.
Watching them stand there I feel an ache grow inside me. What I would not give. I banish the ache and say: “So I gathered you needed us for something.”
They disengage and Cait sits waving us to join her. Bennie and I sit in the plush chairs across from her. Once we are seated she says: “I can guess why Benedict has Top Secret – Unlimited, but I have no idea why you do Shawn. I am not trying to pry, but I do need you and some background will help.”
I work with Bennie every day. Sometimes I forget just how important his family is. Bennie has connections at the highest levels of United Humanity politics. Sort of a family tradition you might say. As for me, the story is quite different. I say: “It is because of my relationship with the Ssahar.”
Cait sucks in a breath and says: “Oh, you’re that Morris.” She pauses and visibly reassesses me before continuing: “Someday you will have to tell me what the Queen is really like.” Over my dead body. But that is an argument that will wait so I just wave a hand non-committedly in response.
My bona fides established Cait begins explaining the situation: “Benedict is right, I work for the Ministry of Intelligence. When the unified government was formed after the Synti invasion the surviving members of the British MoI were rolled up into the new United Humanity MoI. Due to the chaos rampant at the time the new MoI saw an opportunity to create a group of agents that would not officially exist. As I had lost my entire family I was a prime candidate for this. I passed all the tests and the next day I was declared officially dead.” She pauses for a moment and looks over at Bennie. I follow her gaze and see that his face is very tight as he absorbs this. “If I had known about you Benedict I never would have done it.”
“I understand,” he replies tightly. After a brief pause he relaxes a bit and adds: “I do, honestly. I’m sorry I got angry about it.”
Cait looks relieved. She settles back into her chair and continues: “The MoI uses this group of agents in many different ways.
Shortly after we started making contact with the other races of the Galaxy they put me in command of a merchant ship entirely crewed by fellow Invisibles.” She smiles self-consciously. “Uh, that’s what we call ourselves. Anyway, over the past two decades I have done all sorts of things that it would be best for you to not know about. But what you do need to know about is what has brought me here. Any questions?”
Bennie and I shake our heads. Cait nods back and resumes her story: “Over the past eight years I have built a weapons smuggling empire supporting the various pirates fighting the Elowynn.”
I cannot let that last statement go. I interrupt loudly: “What?!? Those weapons have been used against my Marines.” I unconsciously rise to my feet.
“Lieutenant Colonel Morris sit down,” she replies icily. “I am well aware that my actions have doubtlessly caused the deaths of many Elowynn and perhaps even a few Marines. But the information I have gained has doubtlessly saved far, far more.” Her gaze grows even more piercing. “Don’t act all high and mighty. You make decisions that jeopardize a handful of your Marines for the benefit of the rest all of the time.” That, I unwillingly admit to myself, is a fair point. “The Invisibles don’t exist for a reason. We don’t have to play by any rule save one. That one rule is that humanity survives these times. No cost is too great to ensure that. If it makes you feel any better were I to be captured by an enemy or a friend, I would have been allowed to hang for my crimes and MoI would not lift a finger to help me.”
I sit back down slowly. While I do so Bennie asks for me: “Then how come Commodore Duquesne is helping you?”
“I was not caught in the act of smuggling weapons,” Cait replies casually. “The MoI doesn’t expect us to be suicidal. We only have to burn if we are caught in a manner that would compromise the nature of our existence to either our enemies or our own people. When the Marines swept me up while clearing the Deeken base they assumed I was a prisoner. Once they returned me to their ship I simply told them I was an Agent with MoI and gave them the appropriate passwords. This got me an audience with Commodore Duquesne. My passwords force her to provide whatever assistance she could. So, as far as she knows I was a prisoner of the Deeken down there. She has no idea I was helping them.” Cait shrugs her shoulders.