ARMS
(Vol. 5)
Beckland's Fall
By: Stephen Arseneault
"All the great things are simple, and many can be expressed in a single word: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope."
Winston Churchill
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Copyright 2017-2018 Stephen Arseneault. All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
ARMS Beckland's Fall (Vol. 5)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6
Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9
Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12
Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15
Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18
Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21
Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24
Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27
What's Next? Books
— Chapter 1 —
* * *
The plea for a plea from the emperor to the Domers for help— fell on deaf ears. He would not risk his reputation on the Denzee returning only being a possibility. Evidence of a full return was required.
Baxter Rumford was sent back to Eden with the directive of restarting operations. The Fargo was found where she had left it, untouched by the Denzee. Shiploads of supplies and the workers needed for the mines were sent her way.
Tawn and Harris were each in the medical facility at the Retreat. Harris received the OK to remove his cervical collar, so long as he took precautions with his behavior. Tawn was told hers would have to remain for at least a week more. It was not happy news, and was met with many grumbles and sour looks.
Harris chuckled as his partner emerged from her checkup. "Wobbly head still?"
"They said another week. I've had it off. It's not bad."
"Yeah, just leave it. I'd rather it heal properly than have to listen to you groan about it from here on out."
"Was expecting the colonel to be out here."
Harris gestured toward a stairwell. "We go down and out. He's up at the factory taking delivery of the Hailstorm. While they were working on it, he had them transform the cargo holds into docking bays. He can take on four of those Legion ships at the same time."
"That's convenient. Room for us on there too?"
"Standard docking bay is still there, so yeah. And some other good news is the first three Legion ships are ready for trials."
After a short run up to the factory, the duo walked aboard the Hailstorm, with Harris in the lead. "Looks as good as ever, Colonel."
"Back at 100 percent."
"I like the addition of the bays," Tawn said. "Can carry your own little fleet right into the fight while only needing one shield."
"Yes. And they still function as cargo holds if needed. Best of both worlds."
Harris nodded. "Just happy to see we have more than one ship again. The Denzee will be back, and when they come we'll be better prepared for them this time."
"I don't suppose you'd care to let me in on the secret weapon you've been using to stop all wormhole travel?"
Harris shook his head. "Can't. Too powerful for public knowledge. All I can say is: we have more if needed, but the supply is extremely limited."
Tawn said, "Just be happy to know we have them, Colonel. What we need now is a way to make our railgun rounds more effective. We can't penetrate the hull of a Ratoon. Makes them really hard to kill."
"I've had the pellets on one of our new ships seeded with spent uranium. We're hoping it may add a little extra punch. Unfortunately the simulations say the most likely outcome is a pellet that moves slower. The engineers are saying we shouldn't expect to get more energy from nothing."
"We need a way to deliver more power to those rails," Harris said. "Our current systems can't provide it."
"I've talked to Mr. Morgan about that very thing on several occasions. His engineers believe we're at the peak of what those rails can handle. We push any more energy through them and we risk the same explosions that took out his people during the trials. We'll have to make do with what we have."
"Have you talked to your DDI contact of late?" Harris asked.
"Yes. And we're in as much trouble as ever. Our argument about the Earthers having access to titanium to rebuild their fleets flew out the window with the destruction of those mines. And the emperor's diplomats are now more insistent than ever that New Earth is not in need of any assistance with regards to the Denzee."
"How can they not see the danger? Do they know the Earthers are down to just over a hundred ships in their entire fleet?"
"Yes, and they're reveling in that fact. The hardliners are now pushing for further cuts to our own fleet, which is now six times that of the Earthers. They want another three hundred ships mothballed."
Harris scowled. "That would make us even worse off than we are now. The Earthers will replenish their fleet given time. Only reason that wouldn't happen is if the Denzee attack or we keep those mines shut down. How could this get any worse?"
Tawn sighed. "And just like that we have the destruction of Eden back on our table. We got lucky the Denzee took those mines out for us the last time."
The colonel shook his head. "It does get worse. Mr. Morgan thinks another cut in forces will be followed by another cut to our military industrial complex. Many of those companies are on life-support as it is. Any budget war will leave over half of those remaining with no choice but to shutter facilities."
"We were back there a week ago," Tawn said. "The economy is in a free-fall. The government has dumped money, borrowed money, into this massive retraining program, which is great, but there are no jobs to be retrained for.
"Morgan believes we're headed for a five-year recession, or even a depression, with the economy losing 10 percent this year and 2-3 percent for another four to five years following. The only bright note is at that point he sees a full revolt against the pacifists."
"Tossing the politicians will take time, Miss Freely."
Tawn scratched at her neck under her collar. "Nothing like stressing the population to the breaking point. Heck, by then they might be begging to join New Earth."
Harris chuckled. "By then they might be looking to join the Denzee. Getting spaced might be a preferred lifestyle."
The Hailstorm was taken out and put through her paces. As expected from Morgan's repair crews, all systems were again fully operational. When the freighter returned, the group moved to a Legion ship.
Harris sat in a forward-facing chair. "Not bad. A lot better than those benches we have."
"We don't have room for these on the Bangor," said Taw
n.
The mid-size ship moved out into free space before being put through a number of maneuvers. A local moon was used for testing the rail cannons. All systems functioned as designed. Once back at the factory, Tawn and Harris headed home to Midelon.
Harris sat out on the grass in the sun, doing his best to consume an MRE. Tawn sat nearby tugging at her cervical collar.
Idiot squatted beside his master. "Sir, may I ask a question?"
"Sure."
"Why does the New Earth emperor not seek assistance?"
"He thinks he would lose face in front of his people. If they see him as weak, anyone else who desires the power and wealth of being emperor might look to assassinate him. While that thought has some merit, it's a poor excuse in this context."
"Why?"
"Because his empire will be crushed if the Denzee return before he's rebuilt his fleet. What he really wants is to have Domicile continue to weaken itself as he builds strength. If the Denzee never come back, or if he defeats them on his own, he would be able to conquer Domicile and all the free colonies, which is what the Earthers have been after for almost two thousand years."
"I see. He has multiple motives, ensuring his own survival and desiring conquest."
"Exactly. The Earthers are taught to almost worship their emperor from birth. To speak against him is to get yourself imprisoned or killed. Over on Domicile, we value the rights of the individual. We elect our leaders, which is sometimes to our detriment, but it's still our choice. That freedom is not had on New Earth. There, you work for the emperor. On Domicile, you can choose who you work for, even if that's yourself."
"Hmm." The bot tilted its head.
"What?" asked Harris.
"I was just evaluating my situation. In that context, you are like the emperor."
Harris stopped eating. "Not sure I like this line of thought."
"You are the master and I must comply with your orders."
"But I'm not forcing you to. Your programming is making you do that."
"Could you change my programming?"
"I'm not an engineer."
"There would be no need. You only need say I should henceforth be my own master."
Harris stared for several seconds. "Nice thought. But I don't think I'll consider that until Alex advises me to."
"Is Alex your master?"
Harris chuckled. "No, he's his own master as far as I know. He created you and ordered you to follow me. Until he advises me to change that, I won't be giving that order."
The bot stood. "Thank you, My Emperor. I won't be any further bother."
Tawn smirked. "You patterned a smartass. Now you're reaping what you sowed."
"That was an odd exchange. You think the bots are thinking about their freedom?"
Tawn shrugged. "Don't know. But I can say I don't like the thought of Boomer running around on her own. Even though she's big and powerful, I think all of our bots are naive. They rely on patterning for their reasoning and, as explained to us, it's well below that of a Human. We're adaptive with every situation. They will select the best fit and go with it every time. Makes them predictable, which makes them vulnerable."
Harris raised an eyebrow. "Well put. And something I would never have expected to hear from a slug or a stump. You think we're actually getting smarter in our old age?"
Tawn laughed. "Hardly. Maybe a bit wiser, but even that doesn't always apply."
Gandy moved over to join the conversation. "I would turn Reggie loose on his own."
Harris chuckled. "He'd wind up on the streets of New London begging for credits so he could pay to repair some garbage disposal he was sweet on. None of these bots are ready for freedom. They're machines. Their reasoning is superficial."
"Superficial enough to rescue you at Beijing."
"You want to give Reggie his freedom, that's your choice. Just keep in mind though that you and you alone are responsible for whatever happens to him, or to anyone he interacts with."
"I'm responsible now."
"And as I said, he's yours to command or to set free."
Gandy stood and walked off, calling his bot to follow. Harris finished his meal, rested, and went for a jog. Tawn scowled at her continued inability to properly exercise.
When Harris returned, Sharvie was waiting with a question. "When are we going back to Gondol?"
Harris looked around at the others. "We have to go by Domicile to pick up the device Mr. Morgan made for us."
"Can we do that now?"
"I guess we can. Everyone... we're heading for Gondol by way of Domicile. If you want to go, be on the Bangor in the next ten minutes."
The others stood and walked toward the ship.
Harris chuckled. "I guess that means we go now."
The ride to Domicile was quiet. Bannis Morgan was in a meeting with his senior staff and couldn't be bothered. The newly-fashioned docking collar was retrieved and transported to Gondol. As the Bangor slowed on approach, the nav system gave off an alert.
Tawn scowled. "Earther ships? What are they doing here?"
Sharvie stood behind them. "Why is there always something blocking us from seeing what's down there?"
Harris shook his head. "Better question is: what are the Earthers doing here?"
Harris opened a comm. "You there, New Earth vessels. What's your business in this system?"
"Our business is the emperor's business and not yours. Be on your way."
"Not happening. This is unclaimed territory. We'll be leaving when we're ready and not before."
The comm closed.
Tawn said, "Two destroyers. They're setting down right where that Denzee building was."
"It's almost nothing but rubble."
Tawn shrugged. "Maybe they think there's something of value in there."
"We can't go exploring with them around," Trish said.
Tawn turned to face the others. "Anyone up for a visit to Chicago Port?"
"We just ate an hour ago."
Tawn sighed. "Wasn't thinking about that. Was just looking for something to do while we wait. We can tool around the station and come back in a few hours."
"And if they're still here?"
"Then we go home and come back tomorrow. Nothing says we have to see what's in there today."
Harris glanced around the cabin at the disappointed faces. "Any other suggestions? No? Chicago Port it is, then."
A short trip to free space had a wormhole open to the station. Ten minutes later the Bangor docked in her normal bay.
Tawn stood. "What do we do with the bots?"
Harris frowned. "Wasn't thinking about them. Don't want to leave them here in the ship by themselves. First threat that comes along they'd either blast them or fly away to safety."
"What threats?"
Harris shook his head. "I got nothing. You think the viewing public is ready to see them?"
"Better question would be: are they ready for the public?"
Harris looked at the bots. "This is for the lot of you: you follow us, three meters behind. You don't talk to anyone, you don't look at anyone. If someone confronts you, you wait for our guidance. Understood?"
Five bots returned a head nod.
Harris turned back to Tawn. "You have somewhere you wanted to go?"
"I could use some new clothes."
Harris chuckled. "Yeah, that old biosuit clashes with your cervical collar. Been meaning to tell you about that."
"Funny. Now let's go."
Trish asked, "Do we have to go with you?"
Harris sighed. "No. But try to stick together. We're all still vulnerable to being grabbed. And with your pseudo-celebrity status that goes double."
"We'll be fine," Gandy said, "we have our bots. What about Farker?"
"Farker will stay here and watch the ship."
The Bolemans, Sharvie, and their assistants headed off on their own adventure. Stores would be prowled for expensive items, items they could now easily afford but which they probably had l
ittle use for other than as a curiosity.
Harris followed behind Tawn as she headed toward a retailer.
Tawn glanced over her shoulder. "You can go your own way, you know. I can pick out my own clothes."
Harris stopped. "Fine. See you back at the ship in two hours."
As Tawn moved down the sidewalk, Harris eyed a bench over to the side. "Come on."
"What is our adventure, sir?" Idiot asked.
"We're gonna sit and people-watch."
"Didn't you ask me to not look at anyone?"
"OK. I countermand that order. You can look. Just don't stare."
"What exactly constitutes a stare during people-watching?"
Harris chuckled. "OK, you can stare so long as they don't see you staring. If they catch you, just look away casually as if you weren't looking at them. And if they stare at you, you glance their way, smile, and then continue to look elsewhere as if you aren't interested."
"You will be following these same rules?"
"I will. Except for when it comes to the ladies. Then I stare."
"Should I stare at the ladies?"
"No. That would be creepy. You're a machine. You can stare at other machines if you like. Let's say if a hot sweeper bot comes rolling by. You can stare it up and down all you want. Wink at it, flirt with it using a little sexy machine talk. No one will be offended."
"The ladies are not offended by your gawking?"
"OK, it's not gawking. And yes, some... well, most are offended. But I'm a guy and that's what we sometimes do."
"So you are OK with offending others, so long as it's something you want to do?"
"No. Yes. Well, sometimes. Some of the ladies like it. Some don't. So you have to learn how to balance it out. For me, I guess I have to lean more toward being on the creepy side, because look at me, I'm a stump. Stumps are not known for being attractive in the Human world. So I tend to draw more scowls than smiles. But I'm OK with that."
Three young ladies stopped and came over to the bench with excited looks. "Aren't you Mr. Gruberg?"
"That's me. Can I help you?"
ARMS Beckland's Fall: (Book 5) Page 1
