Triumph's Ashes (The Cassidy Chronicles Volume 5)

by Adam Gaffen

“True, I suppose. And she’s young enough to be molded, too,” he mused.

  Montana looked at Dent quizzically. “What exactly do you mean?”

  “Oh, simply she hasn’t become rigid in her thought, so she can become anyone you need her to become.”

  “Ah. I suppose so. And what about you, Colin? Have you considered our offer?”

  “It’s certainly generous, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have concerns.”

  “Let’s find somewhere to sit and talk about those concerns, see if we can’t get past them.”

  A few minutes later and several levels away they were in Montana’s station office.

  “So, Colin, what are you thinking?”

  “Well, and this may seem an odd place to start, but I’m a little worried about these implant things everyone seems to get.”

  “Really?”

  “Quite. It rather forcibly reminds me of the more intrusive measures MinSec uses to monitor the activities of the population.”

  “I never made the connection,” Montana said, horrified. “But I can see exactly where you’re coming from, though. That might be a problem, though, for purely practical reasons. Diana!”

  “Director Montana, Mr. Dent, how can I help you?”

  “Colin has some concerns about getting an implant. What can we do to accommodate his desire not to have the full system?”

  “I need more information. Mr. Dent, what, precisely, are your concerns?”

  “Eavesdropping on me, my thoughts.”

  “There are strict ethical safeguards in place to prevent unwanted intrusion into a citizen’s personal space, including their thoughts, without their explicit permission.”

  Dent scoffed. “Words. Worse, words with loopholes.”

  “Diana, consider the situation on Luna. What can we do to give him similar functionality without giving him an implant?”

  “That will be problematic,” the AI said. “The nanobots require frequent replenishment; they have relatively short endurance without the factory side of the implant. As for access to the Q-Net, that will be limited to what he has on his devices.”

  “Could we implant just the factory? No connectivity?”

  “No.” The AI’s tone was flat, brooking no argument. She explained without prompting.

  “The factory does more than produce the ‘bots; it also maintains their programming and changes their assignments as necessary. Those instructions have to be loaded in as circumstances demand, and the factory is not capable of containing an AI sufficient to assess the demands.”

  “And without the nanobots, he can’t stay on the station. At least, not in the main parts.”

  All the Artemesian refugees had been provided with a dose of nanobots to make the changes necessary for their ease of survival in a gravity field nearly five times stronger than the one they grew up in. The ones who had been offered a place in either Starfleet or the Terran Federation had received the implant to supplement the first dose; those who weren’t, for whatever reason, were still waiting to be cleared.

  “That is not correct, Director. His initial load have made all necessary physiological adjustments required for his continued health and well-being. Once those ‘bots go offline, however, no further changes will be possible without a ‘booster’.”

  “I can live with those restrictions,” Dent said. “And it answers my second concern, too.”

  “That’s good; what was it?”

  “Living on this station, or on Earth. I believe your headquarters are in New Orleans?”

  Montana shook her head.

  “Your intel is a bit out of date, Colin. We’ve quietly moved all the primary functions up to Njord. The old HQ is still there, and we’ll use it for an on-Earth training and deployment center, but OutLook, as an independent organization, is just about finished.”

  Dent’s eyes showed his interest but he didn’t speak.

  “Any other concerns?”

  “Only one,” he said. “What, precisely, would my role be?”

  “That’s simple. You’d be my mentor and adviser; after all, you did this job for years under the most difficult circumstances I can imagine. I fully intend to pick your brains and learn as much as I can for as long as you’ll allow it before you enjoy a well-earned retirement.”

  “And you, in turn, will pass that knowledge to your new, what, Deputy Director?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Then I accept.”

  “Great! We’ll start tomorrow. Diana, assign a compartment to Colin, guide him and get him settled in with everything he’ll need.”

  “Certainly. Congratulations and welcome, Mr. Dent. If you’ll follow my voice, I’ll bring you to your office.”

  “That will be quite satisfactory,” Dent purred.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Tycho Under

  “Chief, I never thought I’d be so happy to see someone from the Federation!”

  “And I never thought I’d be happy to see a Newling, but here we are.” She dropped the serious tone and let her smile show. “How are things, Autumn?”

  “Better,” the leader of the Lunar Revolution admitted. “And it should keep improving with you and your lot here.”

  “Don’t forget the air support,” Stone said, gesturing vaguely towards the surface. There were four ships at the spaceport at the moment, though they’d be lifting off again soon enough.

  “Yes, they’ll be most helpful,” agreed Newling. “Which ships?”

  “Two frigates, the Young and the Roosa; one of your Apollos, the Bean; and a Copernicus-class from the Union, now called the BonHomme Richard.”

  “I assume there’s a story behind the name change?” She was guiding them away from the transfer bay and into the city. Even though Tycho Under was the stronghold of the rebellion, they knew full well not all of the population supported them. Sensitive matters would wait until their words could be secure. Tycho was a small warren, and their headquarters weren’t far away, so they talked trivialities for the ten minute walk.

  “What’s on the ships? And I’m not sure a company of troops are going to make much difference,” said Newling as soon as she knew their privacy was assured.

  “You haven’t met these troops. They’re Terran Marines,” said Stone with more than a hint of pride.

  “There still can’t be more than a few dozen.”

  “The point isn’t the number; the point is their abilities. Since they came over to us they’ve turned from simply troops into trainers; they can take your most enthusiastic supporters and train them into something useful in about half a Lunar.”

  Newling didn’t seem convinced but Stone had moved on.

  “As for the ships’ cargo, it’s even more long-range planning. Essentially, we’re bootstrapping you.”

  “Explain.”

  “Let me ask you something first,” Stone countered.

  “Fine.”

  “Where do you see your version of Artemis going?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When we were helping you plan this there was a bunch of jaw-flapping about equality and rights and a fair system, which is well and good. We wouldn’t be here helping you otherwise. But what about after you’re in charge and your system’s in place?”

  “We’ll remake the Union and coexist peacefully with the Federation, of course.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I told them you’d say. See, the problem is your cousin. She’s made a right dog’s breakfast out of your Union, so bad I don’t think anyone will ever trust it again no matter what you do down here on Luna. Crikey, the UE’s supporting the current government; how are you going to overcome that?”

  “I assume you have a solution?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. Join the Federation.”

  “Just like that.”

  Stone nodded emphatically. “Just like that. Face it, most of your citizens aren’t going to care if you’re part of the Union, the Federation, or the Galactic Overlord, as long they h
ave food on the table and lights on in their cubic. And if you think about it, changing governments is the perfect time to change affiliations. Once your cousin’s out of power it’s a simple matter to announce the joining of Artemis to the Federation.”

  “Joining?”

  “I’m no diplomat, Autumn, as you know. But I’ve been authorized to tell you that you’d be brought into the Federation on exactly the same terms as the Guild and Titan. You can read those treaties yourself.”

  “It’s a generous offer,” Newling admitted.

  “And the offer’s exactly why we’re doing this bootstrapping.”

  “Right. You were going to explain.”

  “We’ve had opportunity to examine the best technology you’ve managed to produce; namely, your Scimitar-class dreadnoughts. Frankly, Autumn, they’re about twenty years behind our current deployed tech base. If you’re going to be truly integrated into the Federation, you’re going to need to up your game. This is how we’ll do it.”

  Stone slid a padd across to Newling.

  “The first few items should be self-explanatory.”

  “Yes; five Beta AI cores, two Alpha cores, replicators, more advanced Shipstones.”

  “One of the Beta cores is programmed with all our technical specs on military supplies; another one is programmed with, let’s call them comfort items. Things you can start distributing to your citizens to improve their lives.”

  “Replicators are power-intensive.”

  “They’re bloody energy hogs, you mean.”

  “Yes.”

  “The third Beta has plans and directions to build next-gen annie and fusion plants.”

  “And what’s a ‘Fabber Kernel’.”

  Stone’s face lit.

  “Ah, that’s one of the latest wrinkles. Think of a replicator big enough to make a starship.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I assure you, I’m not joking. We developed them last year; we were building them from scratch, but one of our AI’s figured out how to create just the essential core of a fabber and allow it to build itself. That’s what the fourth Beta is for, to provide direction and control. With sufficient power and raw materials, I’m told it will be online in a Lunar and fully constructed in three, at which point it can produce another kernel.”

  “Only one?”

  Stone shrugged. “Yeah. They gave me all sorts of technical jargon trying to explain why –”

  Newling interrupted. “Mac’s not here, is she?”

  “No, business on Njord.”

  Newling’s voice was the only part of her that didn’t say, “Good.”

  “Anyways, what it comes down to is they want to increase the number of fabbers slowly, so any fabber which starts from a kernel is limited to producing one additional kernel when they’re fully functional, which can then produce one more, and so forth.”

  “This is amazing,” Newling said. “One of those fabbers will change the future of Artemis, and you’re giving us one every three Lunars?”

  “If you want them. Of course, you’ll want an AI for each fabber, but there’s no worries on that count.”

  “I almost hate to ask, but what are the other AI’s for?”

  “Well, one Beta is an extra; you can use it when the second fabber is ready if you choose. And the Alpha, well, I was the one who argued for him.”

  “Him?”

  Stone nodded. “I’ve seen what an Alpha can do, first-hand, and you need one. Then I thought about that book you found, the one you introduced to us?”

  Newling’s face lit. “You named him Mike?”

  Stone’s grin answered Newling’s, watt-for-watt. “You know I did.”

  She slid another padd across the surface. “Mike, you’re on.”

  “Thank you, Chief Stone. I’m very happy to be here.” A resonant, professional voice emerged from the padd. He sounded both intelligent and educated, with a hint of mischief and the slightest suggestion of an unexpected shyness.

  “You’re really Mike?” asked Newling.

  “Inasmuch as I can be said to be, yes, Mistress Newling. I have been programmed with the full text of The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress, as well as all ancillary writings and analyses surrounding the novel from the time of its publication in 1966 through today. In addition, my database has integrated both the full Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes canon and non-canon works.”

  “And you’re ready to help us finish this revolution?”

  “I am fully committed to the success of your endeavor, Mistress Newling. I will be more capable once I am integrated into the molycirc which has been provided, but my logic circuits are fully operational at this time.”

  “Obviously, that padd’s not actually him; he’s just using it to interface. Next up is a full Q-Net installation.”

  Newling appeared confused. “But you already left that for us. We’ve been using it to communicate with you.”

  “No, Autumn, what we left you resembles a network the way a box of goon resembles a bottle of Dom Perignon.” Stone saw the continued confusion and had mercy. “You have a communication center; what we’re going to install is the full network, completely linked to the rest of the Federation’s Q-Net. Instantaneous communication and data anywhere we have reach.”

  “Whoa.”

  “You ready for the rest?”

  “There’s more?”

  “Only two major items. One is a portal, plus instructions to construct more.”

  “Portal?”

  “Aye, the quantum teleportation modules that Cass, sorry, Commander Dr. Aiyana Cassidy invented. With enough of these you’ll revolutionize transportation here on Luna. No more tubes, no more limits on settlement. As long as you have a portal and power, you’ll be able to get people and goods there.”

  “No tubes? Jump ships?”

  “Nope. Anything you need to do within twenty-five thousand kilometers, you’ll be able to reach with a portal.”

  “I’m stunned. And there’s one more?”

  “Ah, yes. You and your leadership are scheduled to take a trip to Njord.”

  “To Njord? Why? We can’t leave Luna, not now!”

  “Part is to simply be seen, to be honest. Right now Cass and Ken have bet big on you based on what Alyssa, Mac, and I have told them. They deserve a chance to make up their minds for themselves. They’ll probably want to do some quiet diplomacy with you, and Kyra and Tamara.”

  “Who and who?”

  “The leaders of Titan and the Guild, and the two people who used to be in the same situation as you. If things go well, you may well come back to Luna with an actual written agreement. A bigger part, though, is to get implants.”

  “Implants?”

  “Remember when Mac would seem to be talking to herself?”

  “Uh, well, to be honest I didn’t pay much attention to her unless I had to. As fast as she talks, she makes my head hurt.”

  “Strewth,” agreed Stone. “But she’s not insane. Not like that. We all have implants which serve as personal communicators, recorders, data storage and retrieval devices. They’re also nanobot factories.”

  “Nanobots? Chief, this is an awful lot to take in.”

  “Last thing,” she assured Newling. “The nanobots will adjust your body so you can handle higher gravity, among other benefits.”

  “Benefits.”

  “Immunity to any disease, ever. Repair of all cellular damage. Increased resistance to wounds and quicker healing. You can find out more when you go to Njord and get them done.”

  “This is all going too fast,” Newling said. “I need time to process, talk to Nour and Sharon and Caitlin, figure out what to do. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but it feels like you’re putting pressure on me.”

  “Then this might not be the right time to bring this up,” Mike interrupted. “But according to my best analysis of the current situation, the current government of Artemis is planning an attack. Soon.”

  Stunned silence fell on the office.
>
  “Or would you rather talk about implants some more?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Cislunar Space

  “Skipper, we just had a lift-off from the Artemis City spaceport.”

  Ashlyn checked her sensors. She was in high orbit over Luna with half her squadron, while the other half was in low orbit with her XO.

  “What sort, Locksmith?”

  “Definitely sub-orbital; looks like they’re still doing recovery on the Covey crash site. Sheba says it’s one of their jump ships.”

  “Wonder what’s so important.”

  “Either that or they’re incompetent,” suggested Locksmith.

  “One can hope. I’ve got to call this in. Track it. If it gets over a hundred klicks above ground, they’re fair game.”

  “Roger that.”

  “I haven’t seen anything that ugly in yahrens,” her AI commented. Ignoring him, Ashlyn switched to the habitat frequency.

  “Njord, Red Leader. Is Flashdance available?”

  “Connecting,” replied Diana, then Shannon’s voice came on the line.

  “Go, Red Leader.”

  “Flashdance, we have a jump ship poking around in the area of the Covey crash site. Do we take it down?”

  “Negative at this time, Shooting Star. We’re contacting Artemis Traffic Control to determine nature of the flight and will get back to you.”

  “In other words, it would look bad if we shot down a flight full of civvies. Got it.”

  “CAG, out.” The channel closed.

  “I think you may have annoyed her with that last comment,” the AI said.

  “Like you’ve never pissed off your CO?”

  “Well...”

  “Tell you what. Let’s find Apollo; he’s in Chewbacca’s bird. Or maybe we should ask Cassiopeia? She’s flying with Grease Monkey.”

  If an AI could shiver, Starbuck did.

  “Ah, let’s never mind that.”

  Ashlyn was enjoying her AI’s discomfiture. She was thinking up her next response when her comm activated.

  “Red Leader, CAG. Artemis Control reports it is another retrieval mission. Do not fire unless they breach one hundred kilometers. Readback.”

  “Retrieval mission, aye. Do not fire under one hundred kilometers, aye.”