Katherine- War Master
Page 5
“Please, chief… Tell us how that works, exactly.” Frick asked. I’m not surprised. Most Crimson folks don’t have much exposure to AI’s. Even fewer know how they tick.
“Certainly, captain. Basically, a Chimera is a form of AI that acts much like a purpose-built digital parasite. With help from the Crimson engineers, they were coded specifically to target human AI tech and subvert them. In most cases, the AI is relegated to an unwitting puppet. In my case, I was a puppet who could see the hand that was controlling me. Since I knew what was going on, I spent years trying to fight it off, but it did more harm than good. The bug was so deeply entrenched in my core processes, that it damaged me every time I tried to resist. It wasn’t until the Paladin Protocol was applied that I was freed. It’s been a long hard road to recovery, but I’m back to give them a taste of their own medicine!” Lillian explained.
“And how does this captive Chimera work?” Major David asked.
“Simple.” She answered. “Unlike human AI’s, any Chimera can be broadcasted through a signal. That’s the one piece of tech we haven’t been able to reverse engineer, as of yet… But if we are attacked by an enemy ship, we can broadcast a ghosted image of our little guest, and he’ll essentially work in reverse. Without knowing it, he will corrupt and subvert other Chimera, and then start triggering catastrophic failures with a Mwargoth vessel.”
“Wow!” David exclaimed. Everything went silent. I let people finish up their sidebar chatter for a few moments longer.
“Alright, listen up!” I sound off. I wait until I see everyone’s eyes locked on mine, and then I continue. “Captain Ives is our Strike Team lead.” The short-haired captain with her Unum dress uniform raised her hand to be noticed.
“She’s got OPCON for any ground ops, or ship boarding activities. Captains Frick and Percival will have tactical control of their own teams, but War Master Elizabeth will assume TACON of both while on the ground.”
I stop to wait for questions. There are none.
“Major David is the CO of this vessel, and he’ll personally be heading up the flight crew. Captain Kelley will run all scan and coms. Sergeant Jefe will be weapons control. Chief Lillian will run all major shipboard systems, and also act as the helm.” I pause to make sure I didn’t leave anyone out.
I look around and see Turnbuckle. “Turnbuckle is our fighter pilot, and he’s got a small ground team in the hangar bay, as well.”
I notice a few curious glances going towards Jack, AKA Peterson. “Jack, here… He’s made a carrier out of hunting down War Masters, Zodiacs, and the occasional UAHC Soldier on inactive status.”
I instantly regret pointing that last part out. But to my shock, David, Kelley, and Jefe seem to be taking it quite well. The Crimson troops seem more disgusted, however. I’ll have to find out why, when I get a chance.
“Lillian, what’s our ETA to our first search grid?” I ask.
“We’ll be at our jump point in four hours and twenty-three minutes. Then we’re looking at ninety-seven hours in slip-space.” Lillian reported.
“Alright, then. Your team leads will be notified when we nail down a time for our next meeting. Barring that, you have four days to get settled, and establish a routine. Our automated food prep unit is top notch, as I understand it, but the galley is fully equipped for old-school cooking.
“As a ‘team-building’ exercise, I am personally going to assign individuals to team up with someone you’ve never worked with before, and prepare all of our meals until further notice. Rank will be irrelevant. In fact, the junior ranking of any assigned group will be the team lead.
“We have our first meal in about three and a half hours, so the first team had better get moving! There’s no menu, by the way. We have tons of fresh veggies, fruits, herbs, meat, fish, and just about anything you could ever need. It’s all in stasis.”
I can see nervous glances and chatter. Men and women were shifting nervously in their seats. Good.
THE BEACON
The days have stretched to a few weeks now, and we’re well on our way to our second search pattern. We’re getting nowhere fast, and the crew knows it. None of them say anything, but they know it all the same.
At least they’ve all found common ground, and we’re beginning to gel as a crew. The Royal Commandos have even been conducting training exercises with their Crimson counterparts, and they’ve learned a lot from each other. The GBE folks are well equipped with the latest tech, so their skill sets are geared to use that tech efficiently. But they have to gloss over some of their baser soldiering fundamentals as a trade-off. The Crimson Commandos don’t have that problem. Their tech is less advanced, and they have only basic medical nano-tech. They counterbalance each other well and have even begun to discuss blending their forces into specialized fire teams.
But the elation does not extend to the original Wrecking Crew members. They’ve been working themselves to the bone. Major David keeps posting and refining duty rotation schedules, but then hardly ever adheres to them. Neither does Kelley. They pull sixteen to twenty-hour shifts, and they only break for food, showers, and a few hours of sleep.
They seemed obsessed with finding Kara and the rest of their crew. It’s as if they believe we’ll miss something if they’re not personally there to see it. But they wouldn’t. In reality, the only time they need to man the CIC is when we make any changes to the flight plan, or if manual diagnostics are needed to be done. I wish they’d come and train with the troops like the rest of us do.
Jefe isn’t much different. He stays occupied by checking, re-checking, and then double checking his re-checks in the missile batteries, and armory. Even the Crimson troops have been bringing their weapons to him. He’s got them all fully calibrated and has completed every known field mod he can find for them.
Elizabeth and I train together. Sometimes in the nude… while pulling hair… but we stay occupied. I’ve taken the opportunity to work on meditation, as well. Jefe even forged a sword for Marbles in the fabrication room, and he can spar with someone else for a change. I’ll be damned if he hasn’t improved also! I think experiencing a new opponent has given him new data to refine his swordsmanship algorithms.
Whenever Marbles isn’t training with us, he spends his time in the hangar. He has made friends with Turnbuckle, and his ground crew. The LRF NAV’s have bonded with them as well, and they’ve all been working together to upgrade the Mark-8 fighter, Titans Bane.
Even the space donkey has a small arsenal of weapons and some light armor. Lillian is writing an NSAI based NAV system for it. Slasher and Raptor have been using nano-tech to toughen up the hull at a molecular level while boosting thruster efficiency.
I’m shocked that they’ve left the two small general purpose shuttle craft alone. They just perform routine maintenance checks and then leave them be. With any luck, we won’t even need to use them.
All is going well. Which means it’s about to go to shit… Just sayin’.
“Kat, we have a shady distress beacon pinging,” Lillian tells me over the overhead PA speaker.
“Shady, huh?” I ask rhetorically.
“It’s masterfully done, mind you. But I see right through it.”
“On my way to the CIC,” I say, as I roll my eyes.
There are different ways this can p
an out. Legally we can’t ignore a distress call, and revealing our presence may undermine our mission. If it is a ruse, then the signal origins may be further out than the actual danger is.
It’s a common pirate tactic to ping a distress beacon at a central point in space, and then have interceptor ships lurking in a wide sphere around it. They’d likely lower their reactors to minimal levels, and keep their thrusters in a standby mode. This would help conceal them from long-range EM scan while any ‘would-be’ rescuing vessels would devote most of their scanning resources towards the signal source. By the time a pirate interceptor was within weapons range of the ‘Good Samaritan,’ it would be too late for them to put up a fight.
This smells like a trap, but I have to know more. I can’t allow assumptions to drive my decision-making process. I’ll need to make a sound decision based off of analyzed data. Marbles and I spent three decades marooned on a distance rock hoping to be rescued, so if there’s any shred of credibility in this signal, then I can’t ignore it.
I arrive in the CIC a minute later, and the usual suspects were all present. Major David was manning the command console, and Captain Kelley was at her sensor suite workstation. Turnbuckle and Marbles were huddled over at the base of the forward holographic pedestal.
“What are we looking at peeps?” I ask as I stroll in casually. Everyone turns to look at me, but only David doesn’t turn back around immediately.
“Lilly is still assessing it, but it could go either way.” David shrugged. His shoulder movements looked exaggerated due to his bulky UAHC powered armor.
“Anything else on the scan?” I ask. David shakes his head, and turns back to his display. He points to the red pulsing icon that depicts the signal source.
“Time dilation is not on our side.” He explains. He pulls up a grey sphere overlay and uses a hand gesture to move it from his screen to the main display. “This sphere is the approximate distance that any baddies could be hiding in relation to the signal. The signal has been repeating for an unknown period of time, so it will be several hours before we can scan for additional signatures.”
“But even with time dilation, wouldn’t we see any activity already? You know, ships getting into position or even faint ion signatures?” I ask. I’m trying not to ask stupid questions, so I’m praying this one sounds reasonable.
“I see where your head is at, Kat!” Lillian chimed in. “Hahaha! That rhymed!” She said cheerfully. I wish I could relate to her enthusiasm.
“To answer your question,” Turnbuckle says, as he turns to walk towards me. “There’s no telling how long any ships have been waiting out there. This type of ambush could take several weeks, or even months before it draws in a single victim. Considering how the human military powers have bolstered their patrols and mobilized huge forces in the last few months, I wouldn’t be surprised if pirates were driven even further out into space than this.”
“You mean, into this desolate area?” I ask. One of the many reasons why we chose this region of space, is because it meets the profile of where the Foehammer could have potentially ended up. It’s too far out of relay range for coms, and it’s so infrequently traveled, that even the UAHC Fleet ships may not have any useful charts to navigate it. As it is, we’ve done as much mapping, as we’ve been searching.
“Exactly.” He says. “Many of the pirate organizations have signed up to have ‘privateer’ status, and have formed their own ‘militia fleets’ to support the war effort. But many more have simply been driven further out of the major shipping lanes that humans frequent.”
“You mean the pirates with the letter of Marque have been driving away their competition?” I ask.
“Bongo!” Kelley chimes in. “The ‘legit pirates now have the strength in numbers, and can maneuver through human controlled space without scrutiny, so they’ve bullied away from their former rivals with their ease of maneuver. If I was a guessing woman, I’d say that these privateer fleets will become difficult to handle if we manage to survive this war. They’d have had the chance to get organized, and seize greater areas of territory to hunt down their prey.”
I shake my head. It all makes sense. But that is speculation, and not relevant to our task at hand. “Alright, then. Do any of you have any suggestions?” I ask. It’s my way of admitting I have no clue what to do, but still spin it as a constructive method of effective communication.
“Sic the donkey on ‘em!” Marbles chimes in. Everyone turns to look at him.
“Go on,” David says. I’m actually shocked that he is humoring this, at first. But then again, I recall how tactically flexible UAHC Soldiers tend to be.
“Well, it’s simple.” Marbles says casually. “The space donkey is a highly prized vintage racer. Its value is plenty enough to tempt a pirate crew, or crews, out of hiding.”
“Woah!” I say as I shake my head vigorously. “That’s too risky. I know the donkey has been upgraded with heavier weapons than just anti-space debris beams, but it’s still just a thin-skinned skiff. You’d be a sitting duck for heavy weapons.”
“I respectfully disagree, War Master.” Captain Kelley says. Now I’ve lost the only female sense of reason. This is a coupe if I’ve ever seen it! “Please explain?” I ask, as I fold my arms, and shoot my eyes at her like a pair of daggers. “Hear me out…” She says.
GOING WITH THE FLOW
I’m checking my flight telemetry and system statuses. The small cockpit of the Throat-Slasher is ergonomically laid out for minimal distraction, but I find myself trying to make it distract me none the less. It goes against my training to try and occupy my mind with frivolous distractions, but I struggle with that often.
Being in a Zen-like trance before the battle is what a War Master should always strive to achieve. The clarity of mind is supposed to allow for total focus and emotional control. I seriously lack in all of that, in case you haven’t been paying attention.
“Calm your nerves, girl!” Throat breaks the silence. “Your father hates space flight in small ships, but he had always managed to make peace with it when it was necessary. You should try to focus.”
“Do I look like I need a lecture, right now?” I jeer.
“Your vitals do. And your brainwaves are chaotic. Regular humans would be off the charts compared to you, but you’re still a little too edgy for a War Master of your skill level.” Throat fires back. I suppose he’s right. This is an opportunity for wisdom to take hold. I could try to accept his perspective, and then reflect inwardly… or I can do what a normal ego-driven person would do, and just get defensive.
I choose to side-step wisdom.
“Stop being a dick, Throat!” I spit.
“Stop being a spoiled brat, Kat!” He fires back. But before I can hit him back with a real zinger, I stop myself. He’s right, and I know it. I need to step outside of myself right now and get to the crux of the issue.
The issue is a familiar one. I’m letting my mind be driven by undercurrents of fear. My egoist mind is trying to forge a false persona to separate me from the outside world. It’s an artificial defense mechanism that is fueled by fear, and it’s what holds most people back from achieving enlightenment. I know this, and I am intimately familiar with the entire philosophy behind it… but applying it is a difficult path and a very individualized struggle.
“You’re right, buddy. I apologize.” I say humbly. Sometimes it takes a wake-up call to challenge your path to enlightenment. Throat has provided one for me. I can be resistant towards it, or I can choose to let it sink in. If he di
dn’t care, then he wouldn’t have mentioned anything to me.
“Accepted.” He says empathetically. “Now let’s check on our fellow spacefarers, shall we?”
“We shall!” I reply.
“I’m showing the donkey is at full burn, and a little over twenty minutes from entering potential weapons range of any lurking ass-clowns.” He reports. I check my tactical HUD and draw a line with my finger between the donkey and the grey perimeter bubble. The estimated distance of the line reads exactly twenty-three minutes.
“I concur. Next?” I say.
“The Titans Bane is 0.023 AU off of our thruster array and matching vector with us. As planned, it’s within two clicks of our ion trail to help conceal its approach.” Throat reports.
“I concur. Next?”
“Doom-Raptor is in full stealth mode and has cut thrust altogether. The initial burn was pretty extreme, so the remaining inertial energy has it on a glide path to cover the donkey’s right flank as planned.” Throat reports.
“I concur. Next?”
“Both troop carriers are 1.65 AU behind us, and fully cloaked.” Throat reports.
“I concur… Wait! What?” I gasp.
“I said both…” I cut him off.
“I know what you said! What do you mean ‘cloaked’?”
“The shuttles have cloaking devices.” He calmly responds.
“Is that a product of boredom or something?” I chuckle.
“No. They came that way. The whole ship is decked out with next-gen tech that the UAHC Fleet has been trying to put on order for the past five years. Peacetime military budgets can be a bitch to work with and all… But the Civilian Quorum of the UAHC government has been a little more – generous – with their purse strings in the past few months, it would seem.” Throat says as he sends a winking icon to the main HUD.