by Chris Hechtl
“So, what do we do about the intel? It's pretty radioactive.”
“Get as much as we can. Compile everything. Once we've gotten everything, I'll kick that courier loose with it all and some of the people to the capital and let them sort it out.”
“Aye aye, ma’am.”
<()>^<()>
Tau-O79XP
Oliver had just finished a check of the ship's systems and was working on a sweep of the star system when the long-range sensors picked up a hit.
He focused in with the ship's graviton detectors and confirmed the presence of multiple ships coming in—not just one but multiple ships. There was a 99.945 percent chance it was a pirate convoy of some sort, quite possibly similar or the same one that had infected the planet.
The A.I. immediately put a call in to the planet. Captain Dickens needed to do something and fast.
<()>^<()>
Captain Twitch flicked his antenna and mandibles in annoyance when their escort announced that a small ship had broken orbit of the planet and was running for the distant planet. “There is no way we can catch them,” Good Hope's A.I. stated.
“Well, definitely not you,” the captain replied. “We may have a job to do on the planet,” the T'clock medic stated.
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Speaking of the planet, warm up the comm and see if we can get a response.”
“Aye, sir.”
“As to that ship, if the planet was infected and they made landfall, they are no doubt doomed.”
“Possible, sir. But if they carry the plague with them, they could spread it,” the A.I. reminded him.
The bug nodded, buzzing in irritation at that reminder.
<()>^<()>
The crew of Oliver Twist had managed to get on board the yacht and underway for the distant Tau-2X78 jump point two days later. Their past encounters with the pirates had been fleeting; Oliver Twist was a yacht and a fast one. Most pirates were not interested in chasing a rabbit. A stern chase rarely ended well for the hunter if the distances were long enough. These pirates were no different; they moved the warship forward but let them go without giving chase.
“I'm sorry. I knew I dragged it out too long,” Doc said, scrubbing her face. “Did the warning get out to the people?”
“Yes,” Charles stated.
“They'll do what they normally do when the pirates come. Most will take cover and not resist,” his wife murmured.
Oliver had a different take on it though. He had been monitoring transmissions to the planet. “Actually, we were mistaken on the identity of the newcomers,” the A.I. stated after he received a third confirmation of what they'd all given up as impossible.
“Oh?” Charles asked.
“The ships are transmitting IFF. They are friendly. In fact, they are from the Federation,” the A.I. said. “At least one of the ships is a hospital ship, the Good Hope.”
Doc and the rest looked up and stared at the ship's A.I. avatar.
“Olley, that is not funny,” Carol said darkly. She frowned and looked away, lower lip quivering. “Not in the slightest.”
“Do you need to be debugged?” Charles demanded, rubbing his wife's shoulders in support. The last thing they needed was for Oliver to go down just before a jump while being chased by pirates.
“No, sir. I have confirmed the identities of the intruders. Furthermore, there are A.I. in their ships.”
“No frackin' way,” the chief muttered.
“Olley, I think we need to put a call in,” the captain said.
“Aye, sir, I thought you'd like to do that. The radio has been warmed up and is ready,” the A.I. stated.
<()>^<()>
Captain Twitch was still puzzling out the native's story. If it was to be believed, they had been in the throes of the plagues but were almost over it. That was rather difficult to believe.
“The ship's IFF has been transmitted, sir. The yacht is not a pirate,” Good Hope's A.I. stated. “In fact, it is a Federation IFF.”
“Federation?”
“Yes, sir. The Oliver Twist. I'm in contact with their A.I. on a side channel. We're sending data packets due to the distances involved.”
“An A.I. and a Federation ship. What the devil is going on?”
“I'm not sure, sir, but I think they've got one heck of a story to tell,” the ship's captain stated. “We've got a Captain Dickens transmitting. The natives confirmed he and his crew have been using Federation medical tech to try to deal with the plagues.”
“I think I'd like to speak with this Captain Dickens,” the T'clock stated. “Very, very much so.”
<()>^<()>
Tau-1929
Runner had sufficient hyperlog data as well as survey data of the star system to “skip” through it without stopping. Once they were on the other side, they reoriented and jumped into hyper for the last leg of their journey.
<()>^<()>
Tau-1252
Phoebe remembered the adage that one good client bred seven more as she met with Miss Fickle. The woman represented a fabrication shop that was expanding into an industrial center. She smiled politely to the human female. “So, I think I've got something for you.”
“You do?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” Phoebe replied. She'd been tasked with doing market research for the machine shop. They wanted to mass produce something simple that would be in high demand. “I believe I do. You said space and something mass produced and high demand,” she said. The human woman nodded and crossed her legs. “Well,” Phoebe took out her tablet, keyed up an image, and then passed it over. “How about these?”
Miss Fickle flicked a finger to turn the tablet for a better view. Her brows knit. “Is that a shipping container? Are you serious?”
Phoebe nodded, getting enthused. “Shipping containers are used everywhere. We need them. As the economy picks up, they'll be needed all over the sector. Standard shipping containers will be used to move goods all across the galaxy again.”
Miss Fickle nodded slowly. “It's … different.”
“It's a way for you to corner the market on a steady and growing demand and not just the containers!”
“Not just the containers?”
“Of course not! You'll need to produce the equipment to move them, latch onto them, turnbuckles, and the works!”
The middle-aged woman sat back thoughtfully. Slowly she began to nod.
“You can turn out the sheet metal you said and bend it, right?” Phoebe prompted.
“Yes. I think … yeah, I think we can do something like this,” the woman said. “But the plans …”
“Are galactic standard. You can make them standard or custom. Mass produced would be standard sizes.
Miss Fickle smiled. “Well, if you can get me the designs and a contract, you'll have earned your shares as a fee. And they'll be worth a fortune if you are right!”
Phoebe grinned and picked up her drink. “I know,” she said wickedly, getting the other woman to smile and chuckle. “To the future. It's looking up,” Phoebe said.
<()>^<()>
Lebynthos
Félicité and Canterbury arrived together at the Asterion IX jump point in Lebynthos. They reported in by IFF as soon as their hyper wakes cleared.
Captain Vaser was not amused when Captain Thrill Seeker asked about having one or both of the ships stay on to replace them.
“You are so not funny,” she replied but couldn't help but grin a little at the teasing. “I like having my own command, but this ship needs a serious upgrade before I'd take her on again.”
“Understood,” Captain Thrill Seeker replied. “I believe you have some dispatches in the ansible memory to download.”
“Ah! Mail! Awesome. Thanks for pointing that out, Skipper,” the human captain replied. “I'd almost forgotten the ansible. Any news since we've been slogging along behind you?”
“Well, I only know what passes through here and what we get from the ansible. But, if you must know …�
�
Chapter 48
Tau-1252
Shelby rubbed her eyes but they refused to stop tearing up. She could feel Boni's presence but for the moment ignored it.
She sucked in some air and let it out in a soft sob. “Damn,” she muttered, wishing she had more control of her emotions. At least she'd gotten the news in private.
“Commodore Mayweather's death is hitting you hard,” Boni said sympathetically. The news had come in to the capital some time ago, but it had lagged in getting to them. She'd found out about it through the ansible only seven minutes prior and given the admiral's longstanding friendship with the late commodore had brought it to her attention.
“Yeah,” Shelby stated. “I don't know how I'm going to tell Janice,” she said miserably. “They grew up together,” she said sniffling. A robot brought in a tissue box. She smiled a wan smile at it and then used a tissue to dab her eyes and then a fresh one to blow her nose. “Renee was good people. She was one hell of a ship's captain—tough and fair minded. I tried to fit my own style to hers.”
“It shows,” Boni stated.
“I needed a bit more polish than Janice did. Janice was always on the bridge though,” she said, tucking her legs up as the sobs broke through her composure again. “And I don't know how I'm going to tell her,” she said, breaking down again.
“You will find a way. Eventually,” Boni said quietly. All sentient beings mourned, even A.I. to some degree. She knew it, but this was her first true experience with anguish in her host. She wished she could find a way to comfort the woman. It was times like these where she knew an organic required the sympathy of another being like them. Physical sympathy and comfort. They dealt with their grief through socializing, sharing it with others.
Well, she wasn't like them. But she could … she opened up a file from Captain Sprite. She adapted it to the admiral's smaller physique and then initialized the program slowly so as to not startle the woman.
Shelby felt the phantom hug and twisted but then realized what was happening. “Thanks,” she murmured softly.
“Anytime,” the A.I. replied in an equally soft voice.
<()>^<()>
Abdul was grateful that the admiral had put the full carrier and battlecruiser lines on a low priority basis. Each was done, and they each had one ship in them but damn. After all, each sucked up three times the resources as the heavy cruiser line. They also didn't have the key components to finish out any hulls. At best they'd have barges by the time the ships left their building slips.
But, the admiral wanted a start made, and they'd certainly achieved that. And the first Kittyhawk III was nearing completion. She was easier and yet harder to build than a tin can. She lacked weapons and heavy armor and had greater interior holds, but those holds had to be built with reinforced structures to be able to span the distances and still handle the acceleration of the ship.
Scaling back on the destroyer line had allowed the CEV line to go full swing. They were already close to hitting their stride now that the yard dogs were familiar with the overall design. He was certain that the third CEV would hit the three-month standard build rate no problem.
Manning the ships and outfitting them would be someone else's problem though.
<()>^<()>
Phoebe was surprised when Mister Zeloski took an interest in the idea of building a repair yard or slip. “I thought you were hands on? Small craft only?” she asked carefully.
He nodded. “I am. But I see what the navy can do. We can do it too.”
She nodded. “A ship is a big customer though. We're talking big pieces of equipment.”
He waved a scarred hand. That hand had been in some tight rough quarters over the years and it showed. “Don't give me that. We can do the basics. Electrical, plumbing, life support, power, engines, it's all macro I admit, but we are already doing all that for shuttles and tugs!” He shook his head. “You break it down into subsystems and then break it down into smaller and smaller blocks looking for the problem until you've run it down, then build back up.”
He looked away for a moment. “I know I'm not up for building a ship, at least not yet,” he said with a sudden hungry expression she hadn't seen before. He smiled. “But we can work in that direction at our own pace.”
She nodded slowly. “All right. So, what do you need from me?”
“Well, can you get in touch with your contacts and put me on the path to building a repair yard? And obviously, we're going to need investors. I know this will take time. Years maybe but I want to get us pointed in the right direction and get the ball rolling now.”
She nodded slowly. “I think I can do that. I am not sure if the navy still offers support but I can check. At the least you could hire an engineer to help with the basic design.”
Her client grinned. It was like an old dog; you couldn't resist feeling happy about that perfectly natural and rather infectious smile of delight. “Right. And didn't I hear a couple of civilian outfits built repair yards too? One in Antigua, another in Pyrax, and one in ET, right?”
“There are several in Antigua,” Phoebe said, nodding thoughtfully as she dredged her memory on the subject. She had some vague memories of them from the news. She used her implants to access the net to get more information. “Pyrax is the latest one; they took a long time to get sorted out. There are minor repair outfits starting up all over the Federation too and in Pi. Most are centered around the capital though.”
“Pi?”
“Pi sector. It's far away on the other side of Rho. We got word that the same ladies behind ETMI in Epsilon Triangula are setting up shop there too.”
She pursed her lips over that one. It seemed like Fred had made a mistake in choosing Tau over Pi.
“Oh,” he blinked. “Huh. Lots of competition,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, for Rho and Pi, not here!” she snorted as his expression cleared. “You'd have the sector to yourself for a while!” she said expansively. “Think of the possibilities!”
“Oh, I have. And I know the only competition is the navy and that yard in the Tauren Confederation. But no one has seen that one in centuries. It's closed anyway; they closed their borders.”
She wrinkled her nose and filed that tidbit away to talk to Fred about later. “Okay, so, you've got students coming in, you've got your centers working, you've got that new station under construction, a franchise offer, and you've got your first public outlay. I'm guessing you want to rewrite the business plan and shop for more investors while we do research?” He nodded smiling as she came on board with his plan. “You'll need to line up logistics like you did for the parts for the tugs and shuttles I suppose,” Phoebe said, pulling out her tablet and making notes. “I understand you can use some parts that a small craft can use?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said expansively. “A switch is a switch; a chip is a chip. Wiring too. You just need a heavier gauge when you are running higher power stuff. ODN cable is the same; we might need more of it. I can check those suppliers.”
“All right,” she said slowly. “I suggest you line up a good engineering team. People who know ships and know the business to help you get started. We might need consultants from Rho since there aren't any here.”
“I want this started now.”
“Well, we've got time. You can't rewrite a business plan and get investors on board in a couple of hours,” she said with a light laugh as she touched his arm. He grimaced but then nodded. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, I really do. But if you get in over your head it could come down around your ears. Or, you could open yourself up to a hostile takeover later and none of us want that.”
He frowned thoughtfully and then nodded. “Okay, so, do our homework, get things lined up, get the right people on board, support … what else?”
“Well, the government too, local and federal. I bet there are as many laws and such we'd have to explore as grants and other programs. And if there aren't grants, there should be. A little bit of judicious lobbying might
get us some tax shelters and other things to help with the financial pinch of the startup.”
His face cleared and he nodded.
“Now, our senators here can be counted on to help. And delegates who have a vested interest, you know, those who have suppliers on their rocks or moons should be on board. But it doesn't hurt to verify that …”
<()>^<()>
Three days after receiving the news about Renee, Shelby received an answer about another problem she'd been pushing a resolution for. Captain Sprite sent an ansible email confirming that Ensign Pons was to be pardoned.
She read the email twice and then went in person to inform the ensign. She found the young woman in her quarters reading. The young woman shot to her feet the moment she realized the importance of her visitor.
“Well, I've got some good news, Ensign,” she stated as she came into the room. The ensign hastily cleared a seat making Shelby smile slightly in memory of her own feelings when she'd been visited by a high ranking visitor.
“Ma'am?”
“I applied for a pardon for you from Admiral Irons. He has seen fit to grant it.”
Miley blinked uncertainly, then her face glowed. But she noted Shelby's expressionless mask and schooled her own features. Suddenly it hit her she had no idea what to do with her future. Her face fell as she realized she wouldn't be in the military custody anymore. She'd be on her own.
Freedom sounded great until you had to face the reality of finding a job she thought. “So, what does that mean, ma'am? If I try to go to a civilian life, I'm going to get killed. They'd space me the moment I got off the shuttle or worse.” She shivered.
“Well, that is a problem. I see three options for you, Ensign. You can try your luck in civilian life, change your name, and maybe you'd get somewhere. Maybe you can build a nice life on some backwater planet.”
Miley shivered. “I'm a spacer, ma'am, through and through. Pass on that. What's option two?” she asked, eyes imploring the admiral to help her.