Navarro tried to turn and run away, but the robotic waitress had an iron grip on his wrist and wasn’t letting go. He struggled to break free, but the bot grabbed hold of his other hand before pushing him on top of the counter using her knee. Navarro screamed in pain as the server bot dislocated his right wrist.
Dressel stood over him. “Now then, you will tell me who it was you sent the information about Subject Zero to.”
The pain was too much. Navarro was never the physical type, and so he told him. “That’s all I know. Please, let me go!”
Dressel placed his hand on the hapless man’s throat. “I’m afraid that goes against my programming.”
Navarro yelled out for help, but the entire diner was soundproofed, the tinted glass failing to convey his final moments to the outside. No one living saw him die.
Over two hundred million klicks away, a part of Earth entered its night cycle. The northern Italian city of Milan sparkled, reflecting back the glittering lights from the overhead satellites up in orbit.
At a private villa overlooking the grounds of Sforza Castle, Hassan Obi got out of bed and put his bathrobe on. He glanced down at the childlike sex bot lying dormant on the sweat-soaked silk sheets before walking out past the bedroom and into the kitchen area. He wasn’t due to return to the Swiss Region until tomorrow afternoon, but he could easily take an air car and be back in Geneva in less than an hour, even though his superior Erich von Steyr had told him not to hurry. He barely had any leisure time for himself, so he took advantage of every opportunity he could get.
His wrist smartcom began ringing just as he activated the espresso machine by the marble counter. Putting the earpiece on, he accepted the call. “Hassan Obi.”
The neutral-sounding voice clearly belonged to Kierkegaard. “Sir, I have located and neutralized Dr. Jing Navarro. I’m sending you the details of his confession.”
Hassan read the contents using the holographic projection just above his wrist. “Well done, Kierkegaard. This should make up for the failure of your units at Kolob.”
“My apologies for the incident in Kolob, sir. It seems I underestimated those pirates.”
“So unlike you. We’ll have a chance to rectify the situation thanks to this new info at least.”
“Indeed, sir,” Kierkegaard said. “The pirates will soon be neutralized. My tracking virus is now embedded in their synthetic via the data transfer he initiated while at Azusa Station, and he will reveal their location soon enough.”
“Good. Are you ready for another mission?”
“As always, sir. I am at your disposal.”
“I’ll send you the details shortly. Over and out.”
Hassan turned off the smartcom and spent the next few minutes downing two tiny cups of plain, bitter espresso. He always liked his coffee without any sugar or cream. After placing the empty cup in the sink, he activated his smartcom once more.
A jolly voice greeted him through the com-link. “Hello there, Hassan. What did you think of the bot I gave you?”
Hassan gave a little smile. “Exquisite. It’s better than the model I have at home.”
Buck Besa, Malcolm Walden’s personal assistant, laughed on the other line. “She screamed like a ten-year-old during your climax, didn’t she?”
“She sure did,” Hassan said. “I don’t know where you get your toys from, but I could use one for every house I own.”
“My boss wants you to be happy. We’ve heard of your … issues with Director von Steyr, and we want to extend any help we can,” Besa said. “I’m glad my boss’s gift is to your satisfaction.”
“Thanks,” Hassan said. “About Director Walden’s offer. Tell him I’m on board.”
“You’re sure? If your boss Erich von Steyr finds out, he’ll destroy you.”
“That’s why we have to take care of him before the conference is over,” Hassan said. “I have some information Malcolm Walden will find useful to do just that.”
“Okay,” Besa said. “Even though this com-link is secure, I’d rather get the info in person. Can you meet up later?”
Hassan nodded. “Sure, how about we meet up for dinner here in Milan? After all the lovemaking I did, now I’m starved.”
16 The Pupil
Puteri Sin couldn’t help but smile at the boy while she led him out of the gravity module. “Congratulations on your promotion, Duncan. Looks like you’re a bona-fide spacer now. No need to mention the word cadet anymore.”
Duncan Hauk shrugged as the magnetic soles on his boots were automatically activated by the lessening of gravity. “I wish I had gotten the promotion under better circumstances.”
She turned and faced forward. “We’re all hurting, Duncan. Boaz was nice and very smart. I’m going to miss him.”
“Did you know him well?”
“I know everybody well on this ship,” Puteri said softly. “But we have to move on, so it’s always gonna be the next person up.”
Hauk glanced at her. He had seen her shed some tears when Boaz Singer’s name was mentioned at the ceremony of the dead. “I mean, were you close to him?”
“I loved him a few times, if that’s what you’re asking,” Puteri said. “I’ll always have the memories, but there’s a time to carry on and to stop dwelling on the past.”
The boy understood. It felt very much like the gang he was a part of back on Far Tortuga. Members would come and go. Loyalty was paramount and everyone willing to die in order to save each other. Yet after all was said and done, each and every one was truly alone. To be alive meant everything, and the dead would eventually be forgotten. Despite feeling part of the family, it gave him little comfort.
The gravity had completely dissipated, and Puteri’s hair had begun to float around her head while they continued on their way. “You’re quiet again.”
“Just thinking,” Hauk said.
“About what?”
“About how I’m going to be forgotten once my time is up too,” the boy said.
“Would you rather spend your days back on your homeworld?”
Hauk shook his head. “No.”
“Good,” Puteri said. “We may be nothing more than brightly burning stars with short lifespans, but every day for us counts. Who knows, maybe you and I both will beat the average life of a spacer, and we’ll retire as rich old folks on some backwater planet someday.”
They both got to the engineering deck. Puteri led the boy past the reinforced doors and onto a platform. Hauk marveled at the larger spaces that allowed the crew to attach the massive three-dimensional printer machines along the length of the inner hull. The boy had been used to the cramped confines of the habitable section of the ship, and seeing the cavernous manufacturing bays for the first time gave him a sense of déjà vu; it felt like he was back on his homeworld.
A nytini engineer floated high above near the ceiling area before noticing them; she used the tiny thrusters in her cyber-harness to float on down towards them. “Greetings, you are Spacer Duncan Hauk, yes?”
Hauk stood at attention and gave a salute. “Spacer Hauk reporting as ordered, sir.”
Puteri laughed as she nudged the boy’s elbow. “There’s no need to salute, and Engineer Soessq happens to be female.”
Hauk’s cheeks reddened. “Oh! I’m so sorry, ma’am.”
Soessq tilted her head up and made a slurping noise, indicating laughter. “There is no reason to be apologetic. We have not been properly introduced yet, despite the length of time you have spent on this vessel. Of course, the lack of interaction with the engineering teams will be remedied, for every spacer must develop experience in this section if they ever aspire to be of a higher rank.”
“I’m very eager to learn, Engineer Soessq,” Hauk said.
The female nytini continued adjusting her thrusters until she was floating directly in front of the two humans. “Allow me to formally introduce myself, as this is a revered tradition amongst my species. My proper name is Second Engineer Soessq of the 67th Percentile
, but you may call me just Soessq.”
The boy bowed slightly. “Pleased to meet you. My formal name is Duncan Yevgeny Hauk.”
Puteri turned around and began walking back towards the entryway. “Since you’ve both been introduced, I need to check on Benno. Hopefully he’s finished the last learning module I gave him.”
“May you pass the test with good marks, Puteri,” Soessq said.
Hauk gave her a parting wave before he turned his attention back to the nytini. “I’m reporting as ordered, Soessq.”
“Yes, very good,” Soessq said. “I’m sure one of the learning modules Sappho inserted into your AI implant covers the basic functions of this section?”
Hauk nodded. “Yes. This is where you build everything from fuel for the fusion reactor to weapons.”
“Correct. We also manufacture armor for the hull and just about everything you could think of,” Soessq said. “Disable your magnetic soles and follow me.”
Hauk did as he was told. When he began to float away, he used the ubiquitous handholds along the walls to push himself forward. As the nytini engineer began hovering towards a nearby access tunnel, Hauk momentarily pushed off in a different direction. The boy held his arms forward and tried to ricochet back onto the correct trajectory, but he misjudged his counterforce, and ended up colliding with a nearby wall.
Soessq turned her narrow snout, one side of her eyes looking at him. “It’s alright. Ones who are unfamiliar with the nooks and crannies of this deck usually find it awkward during their first time here.”
Hauk pulled himself back towards her by grabbing each handhold and using them to meticulously get closer. “I’m sorry. I’m pretty slow when it comes to figuring out how to bounce around in this null gravity.”
Soessq giggled. “Do not feel shame. Many humans do not find the effects of zero gravity comfortable. On the other hand, my species comes from a homeworld you would environmentally classify as light gravity, so we’re a bit more adjusted when it comes to moving around in similar environments. In fact, we find the standard one-gee in the habitable section to be quite heavy, and we therefore prefer to quarter ourselves as close to the ship’s internal spine as possible.”
“Might I ask you a personal question?”
“You may do so freely.”
Hauk grabbed onto another handhold as he kept pace with her along the tunnel. “You mentioned your formal name as 67th Percentile. What does that mean?”
“Ah, it is part of the culture of my species,” Soessq said. “You see, we nytini come from a technocratic society. Once the children of my people finish their primary education, they are continuously tested. Our society is grouped in the order of three hundred percentiles. The ones who tested out best belong to the First Percentile, and so on.”
“What does all that testing accomplish?”
“My people’s occupations—and you might even say destinies—are tied in with the percentile scores of their test results,” Soessq said. “The highest achievers go on to become the leaders of government, while the lowest scorers handle the menial work. Those of the higher percentiles have access to more of the luxuries nytini society produces as a whole, and the added status that comes with such things.”
“What about those people who don’t wish to take the tests?”
“They are instantly branded as outcasts,” Soessq said, her flickering tongue testing the air. “The worst of the worst, so to speak. They do not get access to the basic necessities nytini society provides, such as food and shelter.”
“Seems to be a very regimented society,” Hauk said.
“It is,” Soessq said. “But this system has also made great strides for my species. We built cybernetic exoskeletons to allow our bodies to function in higher gravities than what we have on our homeworld, and we discovered the t-drive independently. By the time nytini encountered humans, we had colonized over a dozen worlds.”
“But there are lots of nytini spread out across the galaxy. Are they part of the traditional society?”
“Some are, some aren’t,” Soessq said. “Those nytini who wish for a different way of life emigrate to live on other worlds. My species is known for our technical prowess, so we usually end up working as engineers onboard starships and stations.”
“Thanks, I learned something new today,” Hauk said.
Soessq opened a bulkhead door, using one of her six arms to gesture at the boy to come inside. “That is good to hear. In fact, when one says those very words to a nytini, it is considered to be the highest compliment. My people pride ourselves as teachers.”
The boy smiled as he drifted into the main engineering section. By this time, they were both inside the aft portion of the Nepenthe, right alongside a large cylinder occupying the bulk of the massive chamber.
“This is the fusion reactor,” Soessq said. “It works by injecting a deuterium fuel pellet into a laser chamber that ignites it, causing a sustained reaction. All this is done continuously in mere microseconds.”
Hauk placed his hand along the side walls. “It’s warm.”
“Yes, it generates a tremendous amount of heat, enough to burn the whole interior of this ship into plasma.”
“Where does all that heat go?”
Soessq activated her wrist smartcom and showed him a holographic image of the ship’s exterior. “Do you see those glowing fins along the Nepenthe’s hull?”
Hauk nodded. “Yes, I thought the builders of this ship designed her to look like a shark.”
“Shark?”
“Yes.” Hauk nodded. “One of the things my mother taught me about before she died. It’s an animal that prowls the Earth’s oceans. They’re like very big fish that eat little ones.”
Soessq nodded slowly. “I understand, there is a similar animal that dwells in my homeworld’s many lakes. Perhaps it was a deliberate attempt to build the ship this way in order to intimidate our opponents. Nevertheless, there is a reason these ‘fins’ exist.”
“Radiators,” the boy said. “They shunt out the heat from the Nepenthe.”
“Correct,” Soessq said. “Some other ships make them as a single or double wing to make them resemble flying animals. But these things are very important, for the vacuum of space is neutral—that means whatever heat this ship generates stays here unless either radiators or heatsinks are used. Heatsinks can only store the excess heat for a limited time, so we have to rely on radiators most of the time, especially during combat.”
“So radiators are important to keep the ship in working order,” Hauk said. “How vulnerable are they in battle?”
“Not very,” Soessq said. “Our radiators are held together by magnetic fields similar to the ones in our reactors. Weapons fired at them may create holes in the energized plasma dust particles, but they will close again once the munitions pass through them.”
“So we do not have to worry about them?”
“To a degree,” Soessq said. “The junction points along the ship’s outer hull connecting to the radiators are the vulnerable areas, and these are the first priority when it comes to repairs during damage-control operations.”
“But they’re armored, right?”
“They are, but lancer missiles and gauss shells can still severely damage them in the event of prolonged engagements, even lasers when up close. The connections between the coolants to the outer radiators require particular attention. Once a ship loses her radiators, she is helpless,” Soessq said.
Hauk nodded. “I get it.”
“Good,” Soessq said. “The Nepenthe employs robust regenerative capabilities, so don’t bother about the obvious things like her armored hull. Our automated nanite repair systems can handle those things in most situations.”
“Okay.”
“Battles may occur sporadically; the velocity of opposing ships sometimes allows them to make a pass at each other, and a few hours may elapse before both opponents maneuver back into range for another attack. You need to manage the damage-control systems
to make the best use of your time,” Soessq said.
“I understand. If we could repair the most vulnerable areas by the time we get back into weapons range then we’ll win,” Hauk said.
“Do not be so overconfident,” Soessq said. “Luck still plays a very significant role in all this. As one of your old human sayings goes, ‘fortune favors the bold.’ Did I say that correctly?”
The boy shrugged. He’d never heard of it before. “I wouldn’t know.”
17 Schemes
The holographic globe of the planet Horizon rotated slowly in the center of the room. With all the senior officers present, the meeting was held on one of the lighter gravity decks near the inner spine of the Nepenthe.
Captain Lucien Dangard sat near the closed doorway of the meeting room. He glanced at the details of the planet’s orange and mauve hues before silently gesturing at Zeno to begin.
“Alright, let’s get started,” the synthetic man said. “Epsilon Carinae is a binary star, and Horizon happens to be the only planet in the system. The world’s atmosphere is mostly carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide. Air pressure is almost double that of Earth’s—plenty of high winds and low-visibility smog. Gravity is at nearly one-and-a-half-gees.”
Chief Engineer Viniimn swayed his long torso from side to side, indicating mild distress at the mere mention of the planet’s higher than normal gravity. “I suppose that counts me out.”
Garrett Strand chuckled and crossed his arms while remaining seated near the hologram. “You never leave the ship anyway.”
“Let’s keep the side comments to a minimum,” Commander Creull said. “What’s the terrain of Horizon like?”
“The planet has an iron core surrounded by a thin mantle of carbon, silicon, and oxygen,” Zeno said. “Predominantly rock and sand. Horizon also happens to be extremely volcanic. The constant eruptions of gas at the volcanic rifts along the equatorial regions create liquid iron carbonyl lakes and rivers. Beyond Horizon’s middle latitudes are nothing but desert and dead rock—this is where most of the joint settlements are located.”
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