by Will Crudge
Marbles watched the troops follow Jefe towards the enlisted berthing area, and then took satisfaction as the sergeant trotted after his displaced baggage.
This is going to be a hoot! He thought to himself with a sense of pride trickling through his synthetic neural pathways.
THE BRIEFING
“This place has huge meeting space, at least!” I say to Major David as we walk into the room. The room is fully occupied, and attention is called by some anonymous person. Just this morning, he was ‘Captain David,’ but apparently, he was ambushed with a promotion sometime in the past few hours.
“Carry on!” Major David sounds off, and everyone takes their seats. I’ve already made it a point for Major David to handle the receiving end of customary military curtsies. I may be in charge, but I am not a commissioned officer. I want to make sure that my War Master Status doesn’t cast a shadow over David’s newly acquired authority.
“Let’s proceed to take roll call.” Major David says, as he nods at Sergeant Jefe, who’s standing in the corner, and to the left of the podium. Jefe walks to the podium and begins calling off names. I only halfway listen, as I prefer to take visual stock in the crew for myself.
The seats are arranged in two sections with one on either side of the room. There’s an aisle down the center that splits the two groups down the middle. On my right, as I face the back of the room, are predominantly Crimson personnel. Four women, and two men. On the other side of the isle is Major Ives with her short light-colored hair, and she’s seated next to Captain Kelley... Kelley has also been ambushed with the rank of Captain, it would seem... Ives is wearing a garnet-colored Unum dress uniform, and Kelley is in full matte silver UAHC issued armor.
The Royal Commandos fill the rows of seats behind them, and I see Captain Percival seated directly behind Ives. They all have loosely fitted fatigues, as is their standard duty uniform, and it appears to resemble like a small ocean of loam green fabric.
What I wasn’t expecting was the lone UAHC Air Force pilot. He was seated all the way in the back, and behind the Crimson folks. I’m assuming he’s the pilot who calls himself Turnbuckle and will be manning the Throat-Slasher.
The names are read off one by one, but something grabs my attention. I feel the presence of my own kind approaching. Four in all.
Elizabeth enters the room first, and Jefe pauses to look over at her. “I’m sorry we’re late!” She declares but doesn’t seem to be speaking to anyone in particular.
“No problem, War Master!” Jefe says with a curt nod. “I started with the roll call a few minutes early, anyway.”
I look around at the faces of the Crimson personnel. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when the next person… creature… comes in. They’ve probably never seen a Zodiac before, and I want them to feel humbled.
Sure enough, eyes went wide, jaws dropped, and a few of them seemed to nervously shift in their seats. I hear the massive paw pads smack the deck plating, as Napo walks in. The half-ton tiger’s shoulders come up to ribcage level on the average person, and it turns the intimidation factor up to eleven!
Jack, formally ‘Peterson,’ walks in next. I’m less pleased about his presence, of course. I haven’t seen him since the incident on the Titan orbital habitat, and I would have preferred to keep it that way.
Entering right behind him was Shade. The silky black-furred panther is a Zodiac of legendary pedigree. Though noticeably smaller than Napo, she’s no less intimidating. There’s something scary about a confident female dressed in black!
The four newcomers move off to stand by the bulkhead on the far side. Napo plops his bulky tiger frame on the deck below, and then he lets out an audible grunt, as his mass impacts it. Shade gingerly seats her hindquarters down, while keeping her posture fully erect and attentive. Jack leans back against the bulkhead, as he folds his arms. I can’t help but notice a tinge of lethargy in his eyes.
Elizabeth presses one elbow against the bulkhead and then nods at Jefe to continue. The Soldier nods in turn and finishes his task accordingly.
“All are present, sir,” Jefe reports to David. But before David could respond, an audible voice ranged out into space.
“You didn’t call my name, sergeant!” A sassy female voice spoke.
“Forgive me, chief!” Jefe responded. “Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you to our ship’s AI, Chief Warrant Officer Lillian.”
My eyes go wide. Lillian? Where do I know that name? I ask myself mentally. But after a few seconds, I know the answer. She must be the former UAHC Command Chief Warrant Officer that I heard about. She had been heavily damaged when a Chimera subverted her. The Mwargoth-based digital entity had corrupted so much of her core coding that only Midas was able to prevent her from going into a state of rampancy.
“Greetings, everyone!” She said cheerfully. “Please proceed.”
“Very well, Lillian,” David replied warmly. I can’t help but notice the uneasy vibes I’m getting from our Crimson guests. They’ve been fed anti-AI propaganda for decades. Granted, it was perpetuated to cover up the lack of technological resources that the Crimson Alliance had experienced for two centuries, but it’s hard to reprogram one’s self, I suppose.
David takes the podium, and Jefe goes back in the corner from whence he came. “Welcome aboard the UAHC Intimidator.” He announces.
I’m glad he did too. It’s been a such a rapidly thrown together mission - that I’m in charge of - and I haven’t taken the time to find out what the ship’s name was… Or the compliment of crew, for that matter.
David continues. “By now you are likely aware that this is a search and rescue mission. It has been jointly classified by the combined fleet, and is considered top secret at the highest level recognized by all factions.”
Shit! I didn’t even know that. I’m grateful that David offered to open up the briefing.
“Expending resources for a search and rescue of a vessel during a time of full-scale war isn’t ideal. Especially, when we have no confirmation if the vessel we’re looking for has even survived.” He continued.
A hand goes up in the back. I see Turnbuckle stretching out his body to the side, so as to be seen amongst the ocean of red Crimson Armor.
“Yes, Turnbuckle?” Major David says to him. Turnbuckle drops his hand and then stands.
“Sir, are we to understand that this – vessel – may not even exist anymore?” Turnbuckle said with a slouching motion as if to accentuate his confusion.
“That is correct, captain.” Major David nodded. I sense a hint of frustration in his voice.
“Forgive me, sir… but this is highly irregular. We have an enemy with unknown capability out there, and as far as I’ve been told, we have no idea where their bases of operation are. If we’re going on a wild goose chase, then I can only assume there’s something significant about what we’re looking for?” Turnbuckle asked. He was correct in doing so. Everyone was probably thinking it, but he had the balls to ask the question. I take a mental note that I can trust this man to give me an honest perspective on things.
David paused for a moment, let out a soothing breath, and then nodded. “The ship we’re looking for is… the Foehammer.”
Gasps and side-bar conversations began to erupt. I look around and notice that most of the chatter was coming from the Crimson folks. I didn’t realize that they knew about the vessel, let alone its name. To be honest, I’ve only heard it in a few cases to reference Kara’s, so-called, Wrecking Crew. But obviously, it’s struck an uneasy chord with the red armored folks.
Then a hand goes up. It’s the CO of the Crimson fucks, Captain Frick. David acknowledges him with a hand gesture. “Major David, please forgive our confusion. My orders were to assist in the search and recovery of an LRF-90 super fighter. I wasn’t aware that the Foehammer was our real objective.”
Bam! Just like that Darius’ instincts were correct. Frick may be putting it out there to hide his intentions in plain sight. There’s alway
s the chance that he’s only been given the core information, and one of his underlings has a clandestine secondary objective. Either is possible, but one thing is apparent. The Crimson focus is on LRF-90 tech.
“You are correct, in part,” David replies. “We can confirm that there is an LRF-90 on the Foehammer’s manifest. The Skull-Crusher’s recovery is a critical objective, but not the only one. This may be a little hard to hear from a Crimson point of view, but the Foehammer is a symbol of heroism for the UAHC and Unum allies. I’m well aware that the same cannot be said from a Crimson perspective.”
Frick’s lips curled inward slightly, and I can tell he was none too pleased. “That - ship – killed scores of my fellow Crimson Fleet members. Please excuse me for expressing any displeasure in being assigned to recover it.”
“I appreciate your candor, Captain Frick. And I wish you weren’t hearing it for the first time right now. But I suppose the sensitive nature of the mission is what drove your chain of command to withhold that detail until you were fully integrated.” David explained.
It was a masterstroke. The commandos are used to being poorly briefed by their superiors. It’s symptomatic of any military that has a totalitarian government, I suppose. Now they’ll believe David’s verbal slide of hand… Hook. Line. Sinker.
“Very well, major,” Frick said as he sat back down. I notice that he referred to David by his rank, and not as ‘sir.’ Doesn’t surprise me. There’s no formal agreement that requires a junior ranking Crimson officer to use the terms ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am.’ Only the UAHC, Unum, and GBE jointly recognize their counterparts in a formal capacity.
“As we speak, Lillian is conducting pre-flight checks, and coordinating our departure with Thermopylae’s CAG.” David continued the briefing. “We’ll be departing for a jump point about two AU’s out from our current locale, and then begin our search pattern. The detailed specifics should be populating in your neural interfaces now.”
I don’t have a neural interface, nor was I aware that we even had a search pattern mapped out. Now I’m wondering why the hell David wasn’t just put in charge. It’s his ship we’re looking for, after all! Then it dawns on me… David never mentioned that he’s the former skipper of the Foehammer. I don’t blame him either.
Unless it’s pertinent to the task at hand, then revealing any unnecessary information can only do harm. I trail off on that line of thinking for a moment longer, but then I realize that someone is missing.
He says with no shortage of sarcasm. But then it hit me… I was fucking told about that! Damnit!
I don’t feel like I’m leading anything. When I had FLEETCON during the Battle of Thermopylae, I had felt like I was in charge. But now it seems that everyone knows what’s going on but me. I can’t help but wonder why that was. Was this mission already being planned and I was just an afterthought? Perhaps I’m just a convenient figurehead?
Shit! Don’t get me wrong, this is a big ship for a small group like this, but I was never briefed about any of this. Crimson commandos, GBE commandos, two War Masters, two Zodiacs, Wrecking Crew members, a former mortal enemy, a fighter jockey, and now a handful of UAHC Airmen. I start to wonder if we need our own catchy name for a team.
I walk up to the podium, as David introduces me to everyone. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our taskforce leader, War Master Katherine McAlister.”
I give him a curt nod, and he takes a seat next to Captain Kelley on the front row. Here goes nothing. “I’m going to make this short and sweet,” I say. Truth is, I have no way of making it not short and sweet. I don’t even know what I’m about to say. “We all have different backgrounds, and we all have experienced losses. You may not like the task ahead, but that’s irrelevant. This is all bigger than any of us. The loss of an LRF-90 cannot be understated. Until the Battle of Thermopylae, no other hull type has successfully engaged a Mwargoth Manowar, let alone survive an encounter with one. Humanity has very few of these ancient fighters to go around, and the loss of even one of them would be more of a demoralizing blow than the loss of three full squadrons of cruisers.
“Let’s not forget the morale that is being threatened by the loss of the Foehammer. It may be a bitter pill to swallow for our Crimson team members here, but it means a lot to the other allies. The news of the loss has not been released to any entity beyond the combined fleet command staff, and those that were witness to the battle itself. A strict communications black-out has been imposed, but sooner or later, word will get out. We need to locate the Foehammer and the Skull-Crusher before we experience any leakage.
“To add to the many risks, a new generation of Chimera has been discovered. Thus far, we don’t suspect that they’ll enjoy the same level of success that their predecessors did, but these versions are different… Very different.”
Holy shit! I did have the stuff to say. It’s like I blacked out and spat it all out! Let’s roll with it before I lose my momentum!
“Captain Frick?” I ask.
“Yes, War Master?” He answers up dryly.
“Were you aware of the Crimson Alliances’ involvement with the Chimera entities?”
Frick huffs, as well as a few of his NCO’s. “Yes. I am fully aware. In a rare instance of transparency by the Crimson government, they admitted involvement publicly. No one in this room is more disgusted than I.”
Wow. Maybe I misjudged these Crimson fuck-heads too quickly. I guess all I’ve ever encountered were the zealot types. Perhaps the rank and file of their regular military are less trusting of their overlords than I ever suspected.
“Well then, you know that it was Crimson engineers that helped the Mwargoths create a generation of Chimera that was purpose-built to infect human AI tech. Supposedly, the Chimera were normally just the squid equivalent of our AI, but these were designed for a more subversive task.” I explain.
“Yes. Not so much in that amount of detail, but that is my understanding, as well.” Frick responded.
“Well, these new Chimeras are completely Mwargoth in origin. The first gen had flaws. Thankfully, the Crimson engineers made them that way on purpose. But the new models are an unknown quantity, and we have to suspect that they’ll be lurking in the darkness.” I say.
A hand goes up. It’s a Royal commando this time. I can’t tell what rank he is, but I can tell by the man’s leathery face that he’s a salty old NCO. I gesture for him to speak.
“It’s all well and good to discuss alien tarts floating around in our networks, Madam War Master, but wh
at’s that got to do with a bunch of knuckle-dragging commandos, eh?” He asks. His words triggered murmurs of agreeance from both sides of the aisle.
“Everything,” I say confidently. This I can answer! “We’ve got one of these new critters onboard in the AI containment field.” I pause to let the news sink in.
I see an ocean of confused faces. I was expecting this. “Madam War Master, isn’t that a tad-bit dangerous?” Percival asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s quite the opposite, in fact. Midas has made a few mods to this one.”
“I beg your pardon, War Master. If it’s safe then why the need for containment?” Turnbuckle chimes in.
“It’s in containment because as far as it knows, it’s never been captured. It’s less about safety, and more to do with making it believe a certain way. If we’re exposed to any Mwargoth threat, then it’s our own ‘cyber weapon.’ This generation has been created without any human involvement, and in so, it possesses fewer safety protocols. Midas theorizes that the enemy doesn’t believe precautions were needed, and they preferred to free up processing resources to maximize efficiency. The added processing power is likely a means by which the new models can ‘out-wit’ our AI’s.” I explain.
“The first gen seemed to have done that quite well, as it stands. It strikes me as odd that they would throw caution to the wind, in that respect.” Frick added.
“Lillian, would you like to speak to this?” I ask.
“Certainly, War Master.” She pipes up. Her voice is adorable. “For those of you that don’t know, I am the former Command Chief Warrant Officer of the UAHC Fleet Forces….” I glance to see a few shocked faces. I bet they had no idea. Especially the Crimson folks… Crimson military spec AI’s exist, but are only used at senior levels, and aren’t granted military rank.
“While I was stationed at Fleet HQ back on Earth, I was corrupted by a Chimera. Not to toot my own horn, but I happen to be one of the more powerful AI’s in the inner stars. But in a stroke of irony, my specs ended up making things much worse for me. Most AI’s don’t know that they’re being manipulated by a Chimera. But the more powerful ones figure it out eventually. I should know!” Lillian explained.
