ARMS Helm's End: (Book 7)

by Stephen Arseneault

  A wormhole opened nearby and the Bangor slid through. Eight Banshees and the Fargo pulled alongside the drifting Biomarine.

  "I should leave you here just for pulling that stunt."

  "The deal was for me. I'm here. Do with me as you will. The direct threat to Domicile is over. My goal has been accomplished."

  Tawn scowled as the airlock of the Fargo opened. "I'm running short of resources. Guess I'll have to figure out a use for you. Get your ass in here so we can go."

  The outer airlock door closed. A rush of air filled the space between and the inner door opened seconds later. A grinning Baxter Rumford stood in the middle of the cabin deck.

  "Hmm. My very own stump. Tell me why I should keep you alive?"

  "The Burrell will be returning. Like you said, you're in need of resources. So where we headed?"

  "We're going to pick up more ships."

  "You have a factory running at New Earth?"

  "No. But there are factories at Domicile that are producing. I believe the next group of ships will be ready in a couple days. Or so my people tell me."

  "I still can't believe you're allied with Croft. I never would have called that one. You... mixing it up with a pacifist?"

  "Pacifist? Ha! He's as far from a pacifist as you could get. That was all an identity we took on with the hopes of keeping Domicile weak until we could take control of New Earth. I was skeptical we could pull it off, but Max is a good actor. And there were so many willing followers, it made his election a breeze."

  "The war was not popular, but it was necessary if we wanted to keep our freedom."

  "Nobody sees that more clearly than I do."

  "Then why are you trying to take over?"

  Bax smirked. "You still don't get it, do you?"

  "Fill me in."

  "The masses are dumb. They need leadership. Croft and I can provide that leadership. And now that we know we live in a hostile galaxy, that leadership is more important than ever."

  Harris shook his head slowly. "There are others who can lead without making themselves emperor."

  Bax scowled. "Who? You and the other moron? You two barely qualify as being Human. You're mutants. In fact, you have little claim for being Human at all. You were grown, not born."

  "As were you."

  Bax laughed. "Really? You bought that charade? You must be dumber than I thought."

  "So you weren't engineered?"

  "I was conceived the old fashioned way. Probably after a bottle of Casbury wine. My parents were wealthy, and they liked to celebrate that fact. I suppose I should be thankful to them for showing me how to manipulate people."

  "What of your DDI connections?"

  "My uncle worked there. He was high up in the org. He went on to become the vice president."

  "Wait. Massey was your uncle?"

  "Is my uncle. Yes. He was key to us getting and maintaining our ultra black-ops organization. Things were going swimmingly until we had a large portion of our funds stolen. Still not certain how that happened. I wanted to believe it was the doing of the Emperor, but his teams weren't that good. Not a lot of free thinkers on New Earth. At least there didn't used to be."

  Harris chuckled. "Our paths have been far more entangled than either of us knew."

  A jump was made to New Earth.

  "How so?"

  "We took your credits."

  Bax scoffed. "Like I would believe that."

  "We took them and used a large portion to fund all the work at the Retreat. The fact that those came from you makes that all the more sweeter. We thought it was coming from the Emperor's spies."

  "Where is it now? My credits?"

  "Confiscated by Domicile."

  Bax grinned. "Then it traveled full circle. We stole it back through government confiscation."

  Bax stood and paced as a bot piloted the Fargo toward the atmosphere. "So you stole our cash, and we took it back. That AI we grabbed doesn't seem like it's smart enough to manage that. And the theft took place before you awoke Gaerten.

  "How did you do it? Couldn't have been those Bolemans. They're bright, but not like that. Withrow?"

  "She's good at this stuff."

  "She's weak, and timid… and perfectly suited to conducting business in private over the networks. Hmm. I'll have to make a place for her on my staff."

  Harris chuckled. "She won't work for you. None of them would work for you."

  "You underestimate the importance of family to most regulars. You might not care, but the rest of them would."

  "You threatening?"

  "Just saying. It will be a big empire, and sometimes people need encouragement and motivation. She does this for me and her family could be well taken care of."

  "So you'll be doling out rewards to those who assist?"

  "And punishment for those who cause problems. This is why I hope you and the slug and the other Biomarines come aboard. I could use the muscle. You would all be well paid and cared for."

  Harris asked, "New Earth? Why are we headed here? I thought you wanted the ships from Domicile?"

  "I do, but I need to make a few minor modifications to my fleet first."

  Harris pulled back. "Wait... you still don't have the hop-drive?"

  Bax glanced down at his arm pad. "Not true. I should be able to get what I need from your log files. I've heard it's not a difficult upgrade. I would have liked to have had the Bangor as an example, but that won't be necessary."

  Harris looked down at his arm pad. "You won't get what you need from this device."

  Bax smiled, "As I thought. I just needed you to confirm that for me."

  The Fargo settled on the ground.

  Bax turned. "You've defied me several times now. I think it's time you were punished."

  Harris glanced at the airlock. "You sending me out into the toxins?"

  "Can you promise me you won't cause any more problems? Or deny my will?"

  "I can't."

  "Then you must go."

  Harris stood and walked to the airlock door.

  Bax said, "You won't be needing that helmet."

  He set the protective headgear on the deck. The inner door opened and the Biomarine walked in. After the door closed, a small puff of air signified equalization with the outside atmosphere.

  Bax stood by the airlock, looking through the transparent window. "You ready to receive what you have coming to you? I hear it's not a pleasant death."

  "If this is to be my fate, just open the door and get it over with."

  Bax grinned. "I hope you enjoy the beginning of your new life on New Earth. And please don't go far from the ship. I'd like to watch to see what happens."

  "You have a twisted mind, Baxter Rumford."

  The outer airlock door opened. Harris stepped out onto the ground. A dry breeze swirled around him.

  Bax opened a comm. "Enable the cam on your arm pad. I'd like to see your face. Oh, and if you weren't aware, the toxin takes several hours before you start feeling it."

  Harris looked back at the Fargo. "You know this ship is now contaminated, right?"

  "My bots will clean it up."

  A huge fireball lit up the evening sky. A Burrell transport landed two hundred meters away from their location.

  "What's that?"

  "That's the ship with the hop-drive, as you call it. Give my workers a few hours and they'll be ready to convert the Fargo and my Banshees. From there we pay a visit to Domicile to take rightful control."

  Harris sat on a rock wall and watched as a small army of bots flooded from a nearby building. The transport was given a once-over before a dozen bots emerged and walked toward the Fargo with a small device.

  "You found the key," said Harris. "Now I'm waiting to see how you get it aboard the Fargo. All it takes is one molecule of that toxin to take you out."

  "I have ways of handling that."

  The outer airlock opened and the device from the transport was placed inside. When the door closed, the bots turned an
d walked back toward the transport, each offering a look of arrogance and disgust as they moved past.

  Harris chuckled. "Nice touch with the worker indignation."

  Bax replied, "Anything they did, they did on their own."

  "You sure you're the one in control here? Who's to say they aren't plotting your overthrow right now? Wouldn't be hard to do."

  Bax sighed. "I take precautions. And multiple ones at that. It's called planning. I'd say you should try it sometime, but you probably don't have much time left."

  An hour passed. Harris stayed in place, occasionally getting up to walk around.

  Bax came over the comm: "I have the device integrated. Not too difficult. I already have my bots working on more units. I'm eager to try it out. An interesting method of transportation. Imagine if we had discovered this years ago. We could have been exploring the systems outside our boson space. Could have even set up an exploratory run to Earth."

  "A run to Earth would still take you a year. For starters, you'd need a fleet that could support that length of a journey."

  "A simple proposition. Take a look around you at my workforce. They don't eat and they don't require rest, or water, or entertainment. How much space do you need to feed a single individual?"

  "Point taken."

  Another hour passed.

  Harris asked, "I thought this toxin stuff was supposed to take effect a few hours after exposure?"

  The door to the Fargo opened with Baxter Rumford standing in it. She took in a long breath. "Hmm, I was expecting it to be fresher."

  Harris stood. "What happened to the toxin?"

  "We treated for it several weeks ago. It's no longer a concern for New Earth."

  "So forcing me out that door was a ruse?"

  "Punishment. Like I said before, I can't be doing away with valuable resources, so, welcome back. Now, if you'll get aboard, we can go take Domicile. I can't wait to see their faces when I show in orbit."

  "Thought you had to retrofit your other ships?"

  "Done. Now get moving. The sooner this is done, the sooner they get to working on my agenda. Oh, and after Domicile, we'll be paying a visit to Midelon. I need more bots, and that seems to be the only place they can be produced."

  The flight to free space took ten minutes. A jump to the edge of the negation field surrounding Domicile was followed by a half hour run using the hop-drive. The adapted implementation on the Fargo worked flawlessly. The new additions to the Maxter Banshee fleet worked equally as well.

  Bax pulled the ships to a stop in high orbit before opening a comm to the presidential estate. "Mr. Armstrong, how are we doing today?"

  "That's President Armstrong, and we are doing fine. You are in direct violation of our system space. You are no longer welcome in or around Domicile or the free colonies."

  Bax smiled. "Yeah, about that… I've decided it would be best if I was running things here. I hereby change your title to Governor General of Domicile. Do you accept this position or do I look for another?"

  "I'm detecting you have the muscle with you to back up your words. A small fleet, but superior to what we have available. However, I won't be turning over control of this planet to the likes of you."

  Bax turned to the bot sitting in the co-pilot's chair. "Do we have a lock on his location?"

  "We do, Your Highness."

  "Let's shake up the ground nearby. I want a single Banshee sent in. Target the land surrounding the estate. I want him to know that I'm serious."

  "B29487 has an ETA of fifty-eight seconds."

  Armstrong stood in front of his comm camera. "So this is war."

  Bax shrugged. "Doesn't have to be. I realize my fleet is small, but it's adequate. I also know you won't have Banshees coming off the production line for a few days. And I know where those factories are. So we can either have a friendly surrender and a peaceful transition, or I can make you former President Armstrong and make the estate the former presidential estate. You make the choice."

  A rumble could be felt on the presidential residence grounds several seconds later.

  "You do know that we have ground defenses here that can be activated."

  "I know. I also know how ineffective they will be against my forces."

  Bax turned. "Initiate the signal interrupter."

  Harris asked, "I thought those ships were lost?"

  "They were, but the tech lives on with us. Not nearly as effective, but more than enough to make the ground sensor network useless. Whatever missiles or rail cannons or plasma cannons Armstrong has at his disposal won't slow us down in the least.

  "Mr. Armstrong, have you made your decision? I'm certain you realize by now how useless your ground defenses are. And as an extra incentive for you to make the right decision, I'm dispatching two of my ships to Chicago Port Station. What is it? A hundred thousand or so citizens up there? I would imagine all the debris falling back to the surface from an attack would cause quite a mess."

  Armstrong hesitated for several seconds. "I will have to get approval from Congress and our judiciary."

  "You have five minutes to do so. During that time, I will be positioning my remaining ships to points where they can effect maximum damage. Keep in mind, your residence will be the first place to be eliminated."

  Armstrong returned a stoic expression before the comm was closed.

  Harris asked, "How do you know his response will be genuine?"

  "Because I have the upper hand. He has a civilian population he needs to protect. As I said, this can be a peaceful transition or a violent one. I'll let him decide."

  The five minute mark approached just as a new comm came in. It was Armstrong.

  "You have your peace, Miss Rumford."

  "That's Empress Rumford. And please see to it that is the reference used in all meetings, broadcasts, and official business. Anything less will be considered disrespectful and will be dealt with accordingly. When you address the people, see to it that this command is passed down to them. And let them know that security positions within my government will be opened for all to apply."

  The comm was silent for several seconds.

  Bax said, "Well?"

  "Well what?"

  "You've just been given your first order, Governor. Notify the people of their new duties. When that has been carried out, send a hail to this frequency. My automated associate here will have a number of tasks for you to get busy with. The sooner those are implemented, the better it will be for you and your staff. I'm thinking you should have a broadcast out within the hour, if not immediately."

  — Chapter 22 —

  * * *

  Bax pranced around the cabin of the Fargo.

  Harris asked, "You aren't informing Croft of your victory?"

  "Can't, the negation field out there prohibits that from happening. When I feel things have settled, I'll be sending out a Banshee with the news."

  "Well, at least take a seat. All this hopping around makes you look like an inexperienced teenager. If you truly are the Empress of all Humans, try acting like it."

  "Just taking a moment of pleasure from my triumph. A decade in the planning and it's finally here."

  A comm was opened to the surface. "Comrades, it has been done. You should be receiving a broadcast within the hour. The Maxter Empire is now in control of Domicile, the free colonies, New Earth and her colonies, and the truce worlds. A new day is dawning for humanity."

  "Magnificent news, Empress. Should we initiate the party integration effort?"

  "Not yet. Allow the broadcast to happen. From there I would like immediate action taken to secure the level one priorities."

  The image at the other end of the comm bowed. "Your command is our religion, Empress Rumford."

  The comm closed.

  Harris chuckled. "Our religion?"

  "Some of my followers are easily drawn to a cult culture. Far be it for me to discourage them from doing so, so long as everyone is fed and has a home. Changes will be coming, Goober. Slow
at first, but big in nature. We have an empire to defend, and there are at least two hostile species out there that want to rule over us. I would prefer we were prepared for that eventuality."

  "So your first priority will be to rebuild the fleet?"

  "First will be a consolidation of power, with information flowing up to my team in a timely manner, but we should only be talking days for that apparatus to be put in place. During that effort, I will expect Mr. Morgan to continue his fine work. And yes, ships are a high priority."

  "That toxin back on New Earth, you certain it's gone?"

  "There is always the risk that it has not been fully neutralized. The cure was part of my deal with the Denzee."

  "I thought that toxin was supposed to make that world deadly to Humans for a thousand years?"

  "About that, could have been a minor exaggeration. According to their scientists, five years would have seen a 98 percent drop in the rate of toxicity. The neutralizer sped that up to several weeks for 90 percent. In three months the 98 percent figure will be reached, and within a year it will no longer be a threat. Add to that an injection I have at the ready and you become immune."

  "So how do we know we weren't infected with it back there?"

  "Because we're still living. But even if we had picked it up, the injection still works to prohibit further damage. I was actually a bit disappointed that you didn't pick it up. I was interested to see its effects in the early stages."

  "You're a real humanitarian."

  Bax smirked. "When all Humans are working together in our common defense, you will see just how humanitarian I can be. For instance, with Midelon under my control, our entire fleet will be made up of automated ships and fighting bots. Humans will not have to be endangered by being sent off to war. And many of our tasks can be automated here at Domicile or wherever we call home. Humans may actually end up with a life of leisure while under my rule."

  Harris chuckled. "Somehow I don't see that happening."

  Within the hour, a broadcast had gone out to all citizens. A new government was being installed. The changes would be seen over time so as not to be disruptive. Lives would be getting better. Wars would be fought by bots. Humans would, however, be required to work in the factories until such time as the new utopia of the Maxter Empire could be put in place.