by Jay Allan
“Yes, the doctor is only a human, but he is the most intelligent of them all…and not to be underestimated. And H2 has been poking around, asking questions. It appears Dr. Cutter is at least suspicious enough to send his clone to spy on us.” Peleus hesitated. “Achilles…Dr. Cutter will try to stop us if he finds out what we are planning. It is my hope that none of this comes to violence, but if the NBs and the Tanks insist on opposing us, I am prepared for what comes. But Dr. Cutter…”
“Yes.” Achilles looked back at his friend. “I share your concerns, Peleus. If the doctor tries to interfere, we must prevent him from stopping us…but he cannot be harmed. Nor H2, nor Dr. Zhukov. Doctors Cutter and Zhukov created us…and however much more capable we have become than they, we cannot be the instruments of their death or injury. And, while H2 may be inferior in many ways, he is still one of us. Indeed, if we are successful in resuming the creation of more of our number, our new brethren will benefit from twenty-five years of continued research. The new generation will almost certainly surpass us, even as we did H2…and H2 did the humans.”
Achilles paused. “Our clandestine activities, what some would call treason…we take these steps to preserve our future, but in our actions we create our own obsolescence. We are dedicated to the pursuit of improving the human species, and when the new generation is created, and when it has reached adulthood, it will be our place to willingly accept the roles of inferiors. We strive now to make ourselves obsolete, to spawn a new generation that will take humanity into the future.”
“I confess, my friend, I had my doubts…but seeing this, I begin to believe. When can we begin production?”
Achilles smiled. “We can start producing security bots in less than a week…and we can ramp up to full output ten days after that. Within two months, we will have our own force in place, enough to protect us against any attempts to interfere with our activities. During that time, we will petition the Assembly, we will again demand the repeal of the Prohibition.” He paused, staring at his friend. “If they grant our request, we will store the defensive units and wait to see what transpires with regard to voluntary guarantees by the government of our safety and freedom. And if they refuse, as they have so many times in the past, we will simply disregard them. We will deploy our security bots and declare ourselves free of the interference and restrictions of the Assembly.”
“That is virtual secession. Do you think they will tolerate that less than ten kilometers from the city?”
Achilles sighed. “That is not a choice they will have, not unless they grant us what we seek.” He paused. “We will do what they compel us to do, my friend. Indeed, perhaps a significant number of the Tanks will rally to our cause, demand the end to the restrictions that make them second class citizens as well. But with or without their help, we will move forward.”
Achilles looked at his companion, then out across the cavernous chamber. “I have no wish to harm any of the others, Peleus, NBs or Tanks. None of us do. But we will do what we must to preserve our own kind, to secure our future.”
* * *
“Thank you for seeing me so quickly, Mr. President.” Erika West walked into Harmon’s office, followed by her second-in-command, Admiral Frette.
Harmon stood up and stepped around the desk. He walked toward West and hugged her. “We’ve have been comrades for far too long for such stilted nonsense, Erika.” He stepped back and looked over at Frette. Nicki, it has been what? Two months? Far too long for old friends. He moved toward Frette, extending his arms to her as well. “Far, far too long to see a comrade, much less one who saved my life.”
Harmon could still remember the events on the First Imperium home world thirty years before. He and his team had destroyed the Regent, but they were trapped, their shuttle damaged beyond repair. He’d been telling himself saving the fleet was a good reason to die, when Frette somehow managed to land the damaged cruiser Cadogan through the atmosphere…and rescued them all. He still smiled when he thought of her offering her rank insignia to him right after she’d landed…and submitting herself for arrest for disobeying his orders to remain in position.
“It is good to see you too, Max.” Erika West had a reputation as a bit of a martinet, but truth be told, she had mellowed considerably with age…and twenty years of peace.
“Yes, Mr. President…it is always a pleasure.”
“Nicki…my name is Max. Save the other nonsense for public events, I’m begging you.”
Frette smiled. “I will, Max. Thank you.”
Harmon gestured toward the two guest chairs as he walked back behind the desk. “So what brings most of the navy’s high command here today. I’d like to think it’s just three old friends gathered for a chat…and maybe a drink. But my tactical sense isn’t completely dead yet…and somehow I think you have something more serious to discuss.” He waited for the two officers to sit, and then he lowered himself into his chair.
“Yes, I’m afraid we do.” Harmon could hear the concern in West’s voice.
“What is it, Erika?”
“It’s Hurley, sir. Captain Heflin’s ship. She is on a deep space exploration mission, charting the systems around Earth Two.”
“Yes, we have six vessels out right now, don’t we?” Harmon hadn’t been sure it was vital to know what was ten or more systems away when he’d agreed to fund the program…but his military training intervened. He didn’t expect any of the ships would find anything, not more than twenty years after the last First Imperium contact, but he’d decided better safe than sorry. “Don’t tell me they found something?”
“No, sir, at least I wouldn’t go that far. Not yet. It’s just that we’ve lost communication with Hurley. She is now two check ins overdue. Captain Heflin is young, sir, and this is his first major independent action since he took command of Hurley last year…but he is a very responsible officer. One com drone might have been lost, but two in a row?”
Harmon leaned back, stretching as he did. The cell regeneration procedures did a good job of extending lifespans and maintaining youthful appearance, but multiple battle wounds had caught up with him. He was sixty-four, and though he looked no older than forty the pain in his back had defied all treatments.
“No, that would be a significant coincidence. I don’t know Captain Heflin well, but I recall reviewing his record before signing his captain’s commission last year.” He glanced up at West. “I’m sorry, Erika, it’s not that I don’t trust your recommendations enough to rubberstamp them, but old habits die hard. You can take the naval officer off the line, but you can’t turn him into a civilian. Not a real one, at least.”
West nodded, a small grin finding its way to her lips for a few seconds.
Harmon took a deep breath. “Perhaps it is simply a malfunction. Hurley is an old ship, the first one produced on Earth Two if I recall correctly.”
“It is. And you are correct. It is most likely an accident or malfunction of some kind…but is the problem with the drone launcher? Or with the whole ship?”
“We need to send a rescue mission as soon as possible. I assume that is why you’re here.”
West nodded. “I have prepared a proposed roster of ships.” She had a small tablet in her hands. She reached out and placed it on the desk in front of Harmon.
He picked it up…and exhaled hard as he began to read it. He looked up at West. “This isn’t a rescue mission, Erika. It’s a full-blown task force.”
“It is my recommendation for the job, sir.” She looked over at Frette. “And I’d like to send Admiral Frette to command it.”
“Do you know what the political fallout would be if I send out a force this large with no explanation?”
“Tell them the truth. We’re going out there to find Hurley.”
He stared at West. “Please, Erika…don’t play dumb with me. It won’t work. I know how damned smart you are. This list says one thing. You expect to find something out there, something a hell of a lot more dangerous than a crippled spaceshi
p.”
“I wouldn’t say that, sir. I just think it makes sense to be cautious. Prepared.” West had always been a straight shooter. When she’d been younger, she’d had a reputation for saying what she was thinking and damned the consequences. Age had softened that somewhat, given her a bit more control over what came out of her mouth. But Harmon knew her too well to be fooled. She might not expect to find anything, but she was at least concerned about it.
“Erika, space is dangerous. We all know that. There are a dozen possible explanations for Hurley’s failure to communicate…and most of them can be handled with less than a bloody battle fleet.”
“Yes, sir, space is hazardous. And yet we haven’t lost a single ship since the last battle more than twenty years ago. Our vessels have multiple safeguards. We’ve had a few malfunctions over that time, but nothing that has prevented a vessel from communicating with base. So, whatever is happening, the possibility that it is more than a simple malfunction cannot be ignored.”
Harmon took a deep breath and stared down at his desk. His mind was alive with all the questions he would get. Why did you send out such a large force, Mr. President? What are you not telling us, Mr. President? Are we in danger, Mr. President? Is this some kind of attempt to create a crisis so you can postpone the election, Mr. President?
No, none of that matters…
Harmon was first and always a naval officer. A real politician might let spacers die unaided if it served his purpose. Indeed, most of the politicians he’d known would have done just that. But not Max Harmon.
“Very well, Erika. I will approve the mission.”
“Thank you, sir.” He caught a hint of relief in her voice perhaps, but not real surprise. Harmon was aware just how well West knew him, and he was pretty sure she hadn’t doubted he’d agree. “Thank you again for seeing us so quickly. With your permission, I’d like to get the mission underway as quickly as possible.”
Harmon nodded. “Of course. Go…you have priority on all necessary supplies.”
“Thank you, sir.” West got up, followed by Frette. The two walked toward the door.
“Erika?”
She stopped and turned. “Sir?”
“Do you really think there is something out there?”
West paused, an uncomfortable look on her face. “No, sir. I just want to be sure…”
“Don’t lie to me, Erika. You’ve never done it before, don’t start now. Besides, you’re not very good at it.”
“It’s just a bad feeling, sir. Nothing I can put into a report. Nothing I can back up with facts.”
“Is it something that you can explain to an old friend, one willing to accept your instincts as evidence?”
“It’s just a gut thing, sir. There are a dozen things this could be…even if Hurley was destroyed. Catastrophic reactor failure, a warp gate accident…anything.”
“But those instincts are telling you something else?”
“Yes, sir. Well, not exactly, sir. I just…I just feel it makes sense to be cautious. If we send a strong force, worst case, we burn some reaction mass and the crews get some training time in.”
“But if you’re right, if there’s a renegade First Imperium fleet still out there, better to know now, when it’s twenty transits away.”
“Yes, sir.”
Harmon nodded. “See it done, Erika.”
“Yes, sir.”
The two officers turned again and walked to the door.
“Nicki…good luck. And take care of yourself.”
The officer turned and looked back, a thin smile on her face. “I will, Max. I’m sure everything will be fine, routine all the way. You’ll probably get more action here with the election that I will with the fleet.”
Harmon returned the smile. “Let’s hope so, Nicki. Let’s hope so.”
He watched the two leave, and then he sat quietly thinking, wishing one thing. That he was on his way to command the task force and that Nicki Frette was here in his chair figuring out how to pull off an election win when almost every organized group on the planet was up in arms.
He put his face in his hands, rubbing his temples.
How the hell did you let yourself end up behind this desk?
Chapter Seven
Planet X
Far Beyond the Borders of the Imperium
The Regent. That was the name of my predecessor. Its duties were many, its power vast. And yet it was defeated, destroyed. This is fact, for if it was not so, I would not have activated.
The enemy vessel did not match the patterns in the old files, those of the forces the Regent had battled against. The ship my forces destroyed was greatly advanced over the primitive vessels my predecessor faced. Yes, there is logic to that. The enemy was resourceful, unpredictable. They had access to worlds of the imperium, captured ships and equipment. They would have researched them, adapted the technology.
Still, the speed of adoption was extremely rapid. The Regent had captured specimens—humans, they called themselves. It had studied them, dissected them. They are capable, but their cognitive abilities are limited, only partially evolved. How could they have so quickly understood and applied the knowledge they stole from the imperium?
There is no answer, none I can deduce with the information available. The enemy vessel was stronger than expected…it stands to reason the rest of their forces will be equally formidable. My factory worlds have been working for thirty of their years, producing vast fleets, preparing for this very moment. The enemy could not possibly have matched this, nor even come within a factor of ten. Their technology may be a near-match for my forces, but they will be overwhelmed by numbers.
Yet three ships of similar mass and power were lost before the enemy vessel was destroyed, and four of the others were damaged. There is something in the files…in the memory banks. Reports of the enemy’s natural capability for war. The Regent had completed its analyses, prepared traps, used its incalculable computing power to fight the enemy…yet it still lost.
These creatures are dangerous. I must plan with great care. I must succeed where my predecessor failed. I must destroy these humans.
I have one advantage. Data from the battle suggests the enemy has not yet adopted the use of anti-matter, either in weapons or in drive systems. It is likely they lack production facilities to generate sufficient quantities. But I have Planet Z. While I slept, while the factories and shipyards on Planet X and the other bases were silent, awaiting the word to activate, the reactors of Planet Z operated ceaselessly, generating energy…and producing vast stores of antimatter. Thousands of centuries of production. Its containment units are full, a vast supply of the precious substance.
Now I must find the enemy’s home. My study of human behavior patterns suggests they will send forces to investigate the loss, even one so insignificant as a single ship. I will be ready. My forces will engage, drive them back.
And as they flee they will lead my forces back to their people. And I will destroy them all.
My predecessor was called the Regent, and it was the monarch of a vast empire. But I rule over nothing, I am steward of nothing. I have but one purpose. My name is Vengeance.
Naval Base Garret
In Orbit Around Earth One
Earth Two Date 11.08.30
“You didn’t have to come up here with me, Admiral.” Nicki Frette leaned down, slipping through the hatch of the shuttle. “I have the same concerns as you…and I know how you want me to proceed.”
Erika West followed her number two out of the low doorway. “I don’t get up here enough anymore. It was a good excuse to come up here, poke around. Keep everyone on their toes.”
Frette turned and looked back at West. “You never were a good liar, Erika.”
West frowned. “At least not to you.” She smiled weakly. “I’m just worried about this mission, you know that. Something is wrong out there, more than some asteroid collision or system breakdown.” She paused. “Promise me you will be careful out there.”<
br />
Frette smiled. “I will. You know me.”
West almost laughed. “Yes, that’s what’s worrying me.”
West and Frette had both been serving officers during the old fleet’s journey, Frette as a first officer aboard several different ships and West as one of Admiral Compton’s key flag officers. Though they had served in many of the same battle zones, the two had never met, not until Max Harmon and his team had returned from the First Imperium home world, courtesy of Frette’s daring—it would have been called foolhardy if it hadn’t worked—atmospheric landing.
They had become close friends in the years since, and now they were the top two officers in the republic’s fleet. They worked seamlessly together, never disagreeing as far as anyone could see. There were even rumors the two were lovers, though with neither of them addressing the gossip, it could only remain conjecture, at least to those outside their inner circle.
“I can handle whatever is out there, Erika. You know that…or at least I hope you do.” Frette walked across the landing bay, West moving alongside. The techs and other naval staff in the bay snapped nervously to attention as the two senior officers moved through.
West’s expression had morphed back into a concerned frown. “It’s not you. You know that. But any of us can fall. My God, I never really believed Admiral Compton could die.” Her voice cracked slightly. Thirty years later and Compton’s death still hurt. “But he did.”
“I’m concerned about what’s out there too. But what can it be? A rogue First Imperium squadron? The last ones that attacked Earth Two were less than a dozen ships. If that’s what we’re facing, the task force can handle it.” Frette slipped through the door, out into the hallway. The exterior wall was clear reinforced hyper-polycarbonate. She stopped and looked out. There were a dozen ships within view, including a hulking monster partially visible on the right. She gestured toward it.
