Ep.#14 - A Line in the Sand (The Frontiers Saga - Part 2: Rogue Castes)

by Ryk Brown

  The engineer did not look pleased. “I will require a mini-ZPED to reverse engineer.”

  “No need,” Nathan assured him. “The specs are in there.”

  The engineer tapped his data pad, advancing to the next file. “Ah, I see.” Without another word, he turned and walked away, his two android assistants in tow.

  As soon as the engineers were out of earshot, Jessica spoke again. “Can I slap them around a bit?”

  “Captain, those guys are useless,” Dylan declared.

  “Surprisingly, I agree with the kid,” Marcus added. “‘Cept I’d call them fucking useless.”

  “His androids are AIs, right?” Nathan replied. “Shouldn’t that help speed things up?”

  “That’s the assumption everyone makes,” Dylan explained, “and it’s wrong. Those three are XK engineers. The droids are programmed to maintain the XKs not redesign them. Their AIs are very limited. They aren’t even self-learning. They’re basically robotic maintenance techs, which means they’re programmed to follow standard maintenance procedures. And that engineer couldn’t design a decent toaster, let alone a larger ZPED. There’s no way they’re going to get you under way in less than a month.”

  “I’m not sure we have much of a choice,” Nathan admitted. “I was barely able to get the ships and materials to modify them. Besides, we’ve got SilTek so busy fabricating defenses for Corinair, they can’t spare more than a few engineers for the XK conversions.”

  “I can get you plenty of engineers and techs,” Dylan assured him. “Ones way better than that idiot.”

  Nathan looked at Dylan, a skeptical eyebrow rising. “Where?”

  Dylan looked around, making certain no one was within earshot. “Subvert,” he whispered.

  Nathan’s expression changed, his brows now furrowed. “Are you saying Subvert actually exists?”

  “What the fuck is Subvert?” Marcus grumbled.

  “SHHH!” Dylan warned, looking around frantically.

  “I thought they were just a VR thing,” Jessica added.

  “They’re a who, not a what,” Dylan corrected.

  “Then who the fuck is Subvert?” Marcus demanded.

  “Can we please stop saying the ‘S’ word out loud?” Dylan exclaimed.

  “Sorry,” Nathan apologized, looking at Marcus and Jessica.

  Dylan glanced around again before continuing. “They are an underground movement that opposes our government’s passive defense policies. They believe we need to build warships that can take the fight to the enemy, to discourage future attacks.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jessica interrupted. “If they were part of the simulation, and the simulation was controlled by your government, then your government knows about them, right?”

  “Oh, they know about them,” Dylan confirmed. “Hell, they’ve known about them since before I was born.”

  “Then how is it that they’re still around?” Jessica questioned. “Especially considering how tightly monitored everything is on this world.”

  “Well, they are pretty clever,” Dylan insisted. “However, most of us believe that our government allows them to exist and develop.”

  “Like a pressure release valve?” Jessica wondered.

  “Either that, or they’re hoping that they’ll develop offensive capabilities that would deter continued attacks, especially by the Benicasi and Yachi.”

  “And give SilTek plausible deniability,” Nathan surmised.

  “They’ve got dozens of really sharp engineers and hundreds of geeks like me as techs. I’m sure I could get them to help out. I mean, this is exactly the kind of thing they’ve been trying to make happen themselves.”

  Nathan looked at Jessica, then Marcus. “What do you think?”

  “Hundreds of little shits like this kid running around?” Marcus grumbled. “I think I’m gonna need a lot to drink. I also think you’d best hold onto my guns ‘til we’re off this rock.”

  Nathan looked at Dylan, smiling. “Start making calls, kid.”

  “Yes!” Dylan exclaimed, turning to head inside the ship.

  “We need to get a message to Cam,” Nathan told Marcus and Jessica. “She can send the ZPEDs that we pulled from Striker One’s wreckage to us. That should save us a few weeks right there.”

  “Do they even work?” Jessica wondered.

  “Vlad checked them out long ago,” Nathan assured her.

  “They won’t power a long jump,” Marcus reminded him.

  “No, but we can use them to series jump all the way to Earth and back,” Nathan explained. “And they’ll fit inside the nacelles with room to spare.”

  “Even if that works, it’ll still take us four or five days to get to Earth,” Marcus pointed out.

  “Better than waiting a month to get there in a few hours.”

  * * *

  “Duan!” the man called urgently as he entered the mining colony’s administration office. He looked around the room, scanning the faces of the usual staff, not seeing the chief administrator among them. “Where is Administrator Suliva?” he demanded from the nearest person in the room.

  “I am here, Pentor,” Duan called from the far corner as he stepped through an open door.

  Pentor looked somewhat relieved by his leader’s appearance but moved toward him with unexpected urgency.

  Duan’s expression changed to one of concern when he noticed his friend’s level of anxiety. It was not uncommon for the section leader to get worked up about something, but today he seemed uncharacteristically bothered. “What’s the problem this time, Pentor?” he asked, hoping to calm the man down a notch.

  “They are here,” Pentor declared as he joined his leader.

  “Who is here?”

  “The Dusahn.”

  “The Dusahn come every week to pick up ore, Pentor.”

  “On transports, yes, but unescorted. This time, that is not the case.”

  “Can you blame them?” Duan asked, still attempting to soothe his friend’s frazzled nerves. “They just repelled an all-out invasion. One cannot blame them for taking precautions. I expect transports will be accompanied by a fighter escorts for some time to come.”

  “How about a destroyer escort?” Pentor asked.

  Duan’s brow furrowed. “Now that is unusual.” He sighed. His morning had taken a dour turn. “Perhaps we should greet them,” he suggested, hoping to keep a positive outlook. “I assume they will be arriving on pad one,” he added as he headed for the exit.

  “They have already landed,” Pentor replied as he followed the chief administrator. “On pads one, two, five, seven, and nine.”

  The chief administrator looked back at his subordinate as he exited the office and entered the main corridor. “You have alerted security?”

  “I have,” Pentor assured him. “I have instructed them not to take any overt action unless directly attacked.”

  “Amend that order,” Duan instructed. “They are to leave their sidearms in storage and are not to stand in the way of any Dusahn soldier.”

  “Duan!”

  “There is a reason they have chosen to make a show of force,” Duan insisted, interrupting his subordinate. “If we give them an excuse, they will kill everyone who stands in their way and make slaves of the rest.”

  “Are we not already slaves?” Pentor argued. “We barely make a profit as it is…”

  “But we are alive to enjoy that meager profit. That is what matters most.”

  “Does it?”

  Duan stopped in the middle of the corridor, just shy of the main intersection, turning back to look his subordinate in the eyes. “We are miners, Pentor, not soldiers. We sell ore to anyone who buys it. If not the Dusahn, then the Takarans, or the Corinairans, or even the Karuzari Alliance. Empires come and go, my friend, but they all require ore.”

&
nbsp; “Ore can be mined by robots,” Pentor reminded his leader.

  “Which must be built,” Duan replied. “I expect the Dusahn have higher priorities at the moment.”

  The sound of approaching footfalls caught the attention of both men. Duan stepped out into the main intersection, spotting at least twenty Dusahn soldiers marching confidently toward them. He took position in the intersection, straightening his jacket in preparation to greet whatever officer the Dusahn had sent to intimidate them.

  Four tight columns of Zen-Anor troops in black and crimson combat armor approached the intersection, sending miners and administrative staffers scurrying for safety behind closed doors.

  Duan braced himself. It was not the first time that a Dusahn officer had come calling, pumping up his own ego at the expense of the subjugated. But when the first two lines of Zen-Anor troops stepped aside to reveal the officer they were escorting, the Dusahn officer’s identity caught Duan by surprise. “My lord,” he exclaimed, immediately bowing his head in respect. He hated the man as much as any miner on Juntor, but he knew what happened to those who did not show the leader of the Dusahn the respect he felt he was due.

  Lord Dusahn stepped forward from within the squad of elite Dusahn warriors, dressed in a Dusahn officer’s uniform, sporting the rank that he alone held. A look of disdain on his face, the Dusahn leader came to stand confidently before Duan and Pentor. He immediately noted that while the one man’s head was bowed in respect, the other’s was not.

  Lord Dusahn scowled at the second man for a moment, then turned his attention to the first. “You are the leader of this facility?”

  “I am, my lord,” Duan replied. “I am Chief Administrator Suliva.”

  “And the name of the man who does not show respect for his leader?” Lord Dusahn asked, his eyes locked on Chief Administrator Suliva’s.

  “This is Pentor Ashkey, one of my most trusted section leaders,” Duan explained.

  “Too bad,” Lord Dusahn stated calmly as he removed the glove from his right hand.

  “My lord?” Duan asked, fearing the answer.

  In the blink of an eye, Lord Dusahn jabbed out with his right hand at Pentor, plunging his fingers into the man’s neck, piercing the skin on either side of his larynx with thumb and fingers, and ripping out the entire structure with a quick yank.

  Pentor’s eyes grew wide, his face instantly frozen in terror by the sudden brutal act. His face paled in half a second as blood gushed from the gaping hole in his neck. The next second, he was on the floor, staring up at both his killer and his friend as his life left him.

  Duan stood there, mouth agape and eyes wide, as he watched his friend die on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

  Lord Dusahn dropped the dead man’s larynx on the floor next to his body, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his right hand. “I trust his replacement will understand the need to show proper respect.”

  Duan had no words at first. Finally, he managed to stutter, “To what do we owe the honor, my lord?”

  “I am visiting all the worlds of the cluster this day,” Lord Dusahn explained as he wiped the blood from his hand. “I wish to make certain that everyone understands that they are still subjects of the Dusahn Empire and as such, are expected to continue to behave accordingly.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Duan replied, feigning shock that anyone might think otherwise.

  “I also wish to remind you all that while my fleet may have suffered losses, we still possess the ability to destroy any world we choose by simply pushing a button…should that world give us cause.”

  “I assure you, my lord, the people of the Juntor mining colony have no desire but to live in peace and provide as much ore as possible to the empire.”

  Lord Dusahn looked down at the corpse on the floor, dropping the bloody handkerchief on the dead man’s face. “That is good to hear, Chief Administrator Suliva,” he said as he put his glove back on. “Just make certain all of your people feel the same way,” he added, before turning to depart.

  * * *

  Cameron entered the port large transfer airlock, where Vladimir was inspecting the welding work that had just been completed. “You’ve already finished welding the doors shut?” she asked as she approached.

  “Those engineering droids that SilTek sent us work fast,” Vladimir replied, admiring the welds. “They do very precise work. Look at those beads. They blend seamlessly into the bulkhead plates.”

  Cameron paused to look at the beads. “I’m assuming you didn’t call me down here just to look at the quality of the welds.”

  “I think we should install a door here,” Vladimir told her, pointing at the airlock doors.

  “You want to install a door in the doors you just welded closed?”

  “Just a small one,” Vladimir explained. “Maybe four by four meters.”

  “You’d need an airlock.”

  “This is an airlock,” Vladimir reminded her, his hands spread wide.

  “Not any longer,” she argued. “You just welded the outer doors closed. This entire compartment is now going to be part of the main hangar bay. Besides, why do you need a door here?”

  “If we install one of SilTek’s pressure shields across the flight deck outside, we can land a small ship there and walk right out to it as if it were inside the ship.”

  “You can walk out there,” Cameron replied. “No way I’m going to.”

  “Pressure shields work,” Vladimir insisted. “SilTek has been using them for years.”

  “Good for them. I’d rather have a solid wall, thank you.”

  “How are we going to transfer people and supplies onto the XKs?” Vladimir asked her.

  “Through the docking port on their ventral side.”

  “Nathan’s putting gun turrets there.”

  “He’s not going to have a docking port?” Cameron wondered. “Is he crazy?”

  “He’s moving them to the dorsal side, forward of the common area. But that will take time. Besides, it won’t be big enough to move anything larger than a person through. With a pressure shield across the aft flight deck, they could land half inside the shield perimeter, and we could just walk out there and transfer whatever we like. We could even perform external repairs out there, all in a pressurized environment.”

  “What about the temperature?” Cameron asked.

  “It might be a little chilly, or hot, depending, but we can just install a few circulation units to cycle the air in here with the air out there. Aurora has done the math; it should make the temperatures livable.”

  “I thought those shields were meant to be used across a flat opening,” Cameron said.

  “We can repair just enough of the dorsal and port hull over the flight deck to create an alcove. That will give us a flat opening.”

  Cameron thought for a moment, then sighed. “It would be an advantage; I’ll give you that. Not exactly a high priority, though.”

  “If I use the SilTek droids, they can get it done in a hurry, and they won’t even need pressure suits,” Vladimir suggested.

  “Don’t you need their help installing the new energy banks in the forward bay?” Cameron asked.

  “That’s mostly grunt work,” Vladimir insisted. “Bolting things down and wiring them up. We have dozens of volunteers from Corinair who can help with that.”

  “Very well,” Cameron decided. “Make it happen.”

  “I’ve already got the droids started,” Vladimir admitted.

  “I thought as much,” Cameron replied, one eyebrow raised. “By the way, I received a message from Nathan. He wants the two ZPEDs that you pulled from Striker One’s wreckage.”

  “I was saving those to be used as emergency power reactors,” Vladimir protested.

  “He needs them to run the first XK until SilTek can custom buil
d some larger ones. I expect you’ll get them back, eventually,” she added as she turned to depart.

  “Doubtful,” Vladimir replied, scowling.

  * * *

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” Nathan stated politely to Miss Bindi as he sat down at her table in the small restaurant. “This is a nice place. A little far from your office for lunch, though, isn’t it?”

  “Long lunches are one of the perks of my position,” she told him. “I come here often to meet my husband for lunch, as it’s near his office.”

  “What does your husband do?” Nathan wondered as he looked over the menu.

  “He’s an installation logistics specialist for our defense systems. It’s his job to plan installations in the most efficient manner possible. A properly planned installation greatly increases our profit margins.”

  “He must have an eye for detail, then,” Nathan commented.

  “He does. That’s where Dylan gets it from.”

  “Not from you?” Nathan wondered. “I would think someone in your position needs to have an eye for detail as well.”

  “I’m more of a people person,” she told him. “My talent is in reading them, and trying to determine their needs and motivations.”

  “A handy skill for a negotiator.”

  “One that I sense you possess as well,” Miss Bindi insisted.

  “I suppose it’s something handed down to me from my father, and his father, and so on.”

  “A long line of negotiators?”

  Nathan smiled. “Politicians, actually. My family has been in public service since before the bio-digital plague.”

  “Why aren’t you in politics then?”

  “I tried to escape that line of work by going into space,” Nathan said with a chuckle. “It seems to have backfired. What do you suggest?” he asked, his attention back on the menu.

  “I took the liberty of ordering the seafood sampler platter for the both of us,” she told him. “All the best the eleven oceans of SilTek have to offer. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “So what was it you wished to speak with me about?” Miss Bindi wondered.