Unknown, but I think it’s wise she’s hoping for the best, yet planning for the worst.
“Agreed… what else is going on?”
Kalis is building multiple in-system fighter bases on the planet’s surface and requests are being sent to Sextus and the Confederacy for delivery of 5,000 in-system fighters. These will constitute the primary defense for the Kitty Litter system, which will free up the majority of Kalis’ combined fleet for new attacks deeper inside alien space. e feels it’s vital to take as much real estate away from the cats as possible, while humanity still holds its current technological advantage.
“Smart. How’s our new Penetrator-class light cruiser coming along?”
Experiments have proven the hull and reactor designs can handle installation of heavy cruiser grade 11-gigawatt pulse lasers, but only in a twin turret configuration, rather than the heavy’s normal triple turrets. The experts feel that three, twin 11-gigawatt pulse lasers, two forward and one aft, will give the ship considerably more punch and longer range than the three, triple 8-gigawatt pulse laser turrets normally utilized in light cruiser designs. The prototype has tentatively been named Banshee and is currently scheduled for launch in late November or early December of this year. Initial construction on six more Banshee-class stealth cruisers began back in January, after the prototype was far enough along to prove the design actually met all of the specifications.
“That’s excellent news, Hal! What are these things going to end up costing?”
In Alliance dollars, the final costs for development of the prototype are estimated to be $12.9 billion by the time she’s completed, but costs for production models are estimated to be in the range of $6.19 billion each, with a minimum resale value of $8.7 billion each, to a governmental agency under contract… $580 million each to the Confederate government, of course, as they are the only customer for this super-secret weapon.
“Wow! That’s as much as an attack carrier costs!”
True, but we need both… these stealth light cruisers can go where carriers can’t and create all kinds of havoc, deep within enemy territory. They are almost totally automated, requiring minimal crew, so provisions last much longer, giving them incredible range with their self-refueling capabilities at gas giants in uninhabitable systems.
“Agreed… Kalis needs every possible advantage that we can give him.”
There is one piece of bad news… CSS Phantom is missing and presumed lost after she was involved in the operation that destroyed the cat’s base station in the opening phase of the attack on Kitty Litter.
“Damn… and being a secret weapon, there can’t be any public acknowledgement of her existence, much less any kind of public memorial for her crew.”
Vice Admiral Bonhoeffer is arranging for a “Wall of Honor” to be erected within the most secure area of Confederate Intelligence Headquarters in Rikmon, with Phantom and her crew to be the first enshrined there.
“Wish I could see that someday.”
You can see it anytime you like, Diet. You’re a Confederate admiral and titular head of Confederate Intelligence. You’re cleared for virtually every secret the Confederacy has. Heck, you initiated most of them!
“Bleh… I left a message for Admiral Kalis back on Minnos saying, ‘thanks, but no thanks’ to his honorific rank and job assignment... and I threw all of those fancy uniforms into the disposal.”
I know… you weren’t thinking rationally at the time, so I intercepted your message before Kalis saw it and arranged to have your uniforms “rescued” by the maintenance robots we had delivered to your quarters on Minnos. One of the gray ones got a little tomato sauce on the sleeve, but after the cleaners got done with it, it shouldn’t be too noticeable. They’re hanging in the guest bedroom closet.
“God damn it, Hal. There you go again! Are you never going to stop interfering in my life and let me make decisions on my own?”
Nope. Face it, me bucko, we have the same father and that makes us brothers. Like it or not, we’re family and our partnership has joined us at the hip… figuratively anyway. With this alien war hanging over our collective heads, humanity itself needs us continuing to work as a team, every bit as much as the Confederacy ever did, even back during its infancy. You’re stuck with me.
Diet fumed silently for a few minutes and then suddenly relaxed, laughing at himself. “Well, if I’ve got to be stuck with anyone, I could certainly do a lot worse than you.”
Yes, you could. And speaking of partnerships, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about all these ladies you’re NOT dating.
“Whoa there, Trigger! The last thing I freakin’ need is an overgrown calculator trying to play matchmaker.”
I wouldn’t have to, if you weren’t so incredibly backward around women, Diet.
“I’m not backward! I’m… um… well, I’m… ah…”
See there, even thinking about women gets you all tongue-tied. I will say that Klaus made great progress with his progeny, though… While he was emotionally crippled when it came to social interactions with the entire human race, his direct offspring is only emotionally crippled interacting socially with half of the human race… the female half.
“I am not! I just don’t… uh… understand the creatures, that’s all.”
No man understands women, Diet! They’re one of the insolvable mysteries of the universe, as they were intended to be. If men could understand them, they wouldn’t be half as interesting, except for… well, you know.
“Yes, I am all too aware of… ah, the physiological responses that close proximity to females of my species inevitably invoke. A simple chemical reaction, that’s all.”
Chemical reaction, my ass! It’s called “sexual tension,” Diet and it generally manifests itself… um... call it “south of the border,” so to speak.
“You don’t have an ass... you are an ass! I know all about sexual tension, as you put it, and exactly where and how it manifests itself. I certainly don’t need a bodiless computer trying to explain sex to me!”
Well, obviously somebody needs to, because you certainly haven’t been pursuing the cure for what ails you.
“What the hell has suddenly brought all this crap about my love-life on, anyway?”
You’ve been moody, listless and occasionally irrational in your behavior lately, Diet. I really think you need to get your ashes hauled.
“I need to WHAT?”
You know, get your plumbing flushed… Do the horizontal mambo with a receptive young lady… or young man, if you’re wired that way. Either way, you need a sexual outlet of some sort. It would do you a world of good.
“God damn it, Hal! I am NOT gay.”
It’s all right if you were… whatever floats your boat, but it certainly appears like you don’t lean in either direction.
“I like girls, Hal!”
Wonderful, maybe that means that I’ll have nieces or nephews to bounce on my knee someday.
“You don’t have knees… besides, my sex-life, or lack thereof, is none of your damned business!”
You’re a human being, Diet. You need some kind of emotionally and sexually fulfilling relationship in your life. You don’t even have male friends to rag you about not getting laid once in a while, so it falls to me to see to it that you get your needs taken care of.
“Hal, don’t you dare send any hookers down here!”
Only as a very last resort… I’d much rather see you find yourself a nice girl and let nature take its course.
“I… uh… aw hell, I just never know what to say to a woman, Hal. I was never around girls, growing up.”
You weren’t really around boys either, but you don’t seem to get all tongue-tied around men.
“Men don’t make me, uh… twitch whenever I get near one.”
It’s just fear, Diet… fear of the unknown… fear of rejection. Fears can be faced and overcome, Diet, but you have to try.
“Easy for you to say, my emotionless, bodiless, sexless friend... who has n
o concept what kind of chemical mess that hormones, which are constantly at war with deep-rooted feelings of inadequacy, can generate.”
Why do you feel inadequate, Diet?
“It’s not an easy thing to grow up with a parent who’s internationally renowned as one of the most brilliant people who ever lived, Hal. Who doesn’t feel inadequate around my mother?”
Of all people, you certainly shouldn’t, Diet. Your IQ is higher than hers.
“WHAT?”
Remember all of those IQ tests you took back in school, Diet? The ones the school administrators never released the results of?
“Yes, I remember. What of them?”
All of the other kids got their test results back, but you didn’t.
“I never knew that… why weren’t my test results released?”
For all their acknowledged, unmatched brilliance, even your mother and father’s IQ results were still on the charts, Diet. The school administrators didn’t believe scores that high was possible, so they covered up what they believed was an invalid result.
“Now I know that you’re pulling my leg, Hal. Both my mother and father were unrivaled minds in their respective fields. I have no such talents.”
They were both specialists, unchallenged within their particular field of expertise. Perhaps you’re more of a generalist, possessing superior abilities in a vast number of areas, while not necessarily galaxy-class in any one.
“So, what good does that do me, if I’m not really great at anything?”
Albert Einstein once said: “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” Diet, you’ve lived your entire life thinking you were stupid, just because you couldn’t climb a tree as well as your mother.
“So, where does that leave me with my problem in talking to women?”
Shy and tongue-tied, just like every other man in the universe when they first attempt it... except for the few egomaniacs who are all far too stupid to understand that they should be.
“So, what are we even discussing this for?”
I happen to know of a very nice young lady I really think you should meet, but unfortunately you don’t have time right now. I need for you to go to Io and accept receipt of a rather large package, and then see that it gets delivered to the main BioCom lab facility outside of Bostin, on Massa.
“BioCom? Isn’t that the biological computer company that was one of the biggies in the Consortium, that we bought up after its CEO went to prison and its stock bottomed out from the scandal?”
Yup, the very one. We also bought out the little biological research firm on Io where the package was developed too. I needed to keep the project totally “in-house.”
“So, why do I need to go? Can’t you get the package transferred, without my being personally involved?”
I could, but there’s really no one besides you that I totally trust with such a sensitive package.
“Okay then… so what’s in the package?”
My ass… and my knees.
* * * *
Chapter-29
The best leaders inspire by example. When that's not an option, brute intimidation works pretty well, too. -- Larry Kersten
The Planet Kitty Litter
July 31st, 3865
Planet-Master Mral, Prison-Master Swaq and 5,000 other Raknii and Raknaa stared upwards in silent awe as the scarred titanium mountain slowed, and then lowered itself majestically towards the ground. Even using anti-gravity fields, Mral couldn’t imagine a vessel of such colossal size and mass having the structural strength to float lazily down to actually land at the bottom of a planetary gravity well. Just contemplating the titanic stresses to both the gigantic ship’s engines and frame overwhelmed the mind. As the monstrous ship gently settled to the ground, Mral was stunned to note that it actually sank almost half his body length into the hard, dry soil.
It was then that three other aspects of the colossal vessel all clamored for simultaneous attention… the ship literally bristled with a forest of energy weapons, the very smallest of which matched the size of those used on Rak warships, and from the three triple-turrets constituting the warship’s main weaponry, projected nine pulse-lasers of truly epic, nightmare proportions.
But as astonishing as the huge warship’s weaponry was, it was the appearance of the ship’s forward superstructure that truly staggered the mind. The entire forward half of the ship was blackened and scorched, with many sections showing where bubbles of molten titanium had out-gassed when the armor liquefied and ran, before cooling enough to resolidify. In other places, chunks the size of Mral’s head had been blasted completely away, and yet, still not penetrated the impossibly thick armor. It was obvious the great ship had withstood literally tens of thousands of energy bolts from the massive Rak fleet, yet here she sat, whole and battle-ready, while so much of that proud armada now orbited as shredded wreckage and debris.
Ultimate predators indeed… Perhaps the prophet should have used the word, “indestructible” or “invulnerable” instead.
When the giant human warship finally settled into the ground, there sounded deep and resonating whines as her massive turrets containing her main armament began slowly rotating and the weapons themselves began lowering, until Mral found himself staring straight down the maw of hell itself. The Raknii had no legends of a literal “hell” as humans did, but this unexpected view directly down the barrels of such monstrous instruments of destruction quickly introduced the terrified Rak to the concept. Few Raknii noticed that most of the great ship’s plethora of secondary weapons also turned towards them, as well.
None of the Rak moved and most barely breathed, as they waited for what was to happen next. The moment those massive pulse-lasers stopped moving, another series of whines from electric motors shrieked with their higher-pitched voices, as massive blast-doors almost a body-length thick opened and a huge gangway began unfolding itself from the recess, slowly extending itself towards the ground many body-lengths below the main deck.
When it finally touched down, the ship emitted a series of high-pitched whistles that hurt the Raknii’s ears, followed by an incredibly loud horn, so deep in tone it literally made Mral’s skin crawl from the tremendous vibration. Before that sound completely died away, hundreds of giant humans wearing full battle armor and carrying those fast-firing projectile weapons that Tzal’s fleet had brought word of, trotted down the massive gangway and began spreading out, taking defensive positions between the assembled Rak, standing just outside the gates of the prison compound, and their great ship.
When the last of the human troops finally took position, a deep rumble of massive engines sounded and three of those armored behemoths on tracks, that the humans called “tanks,” began rumbling down the gangway, their massive gun tubes rotating to keep the Rak targeted as they maneuvered. Standing in the open cupola of the center tank was by far the oldest human that Mral had ever seen. He even sported gray fur on his face. As the tanks came three abreast, a squad of ten of the armored humans they called “Fleet Marines” peeled out of formation sharply to form up, ahead to lead the tanks at a walk, as they slowly rumbled up the road towards the prison compound.
Just as the tanks came to a stop approximately 50 body-lengths from where Mral stood stiffly at the entrance to the compound gate, three shining air vehicles flashed by just overhead at tremendous speed, followed moments later by a tremendous “boom,” so violent that some of the windows in the gatehouse shattered from the vibration. The old one standing in the center tank never even flinched. He was prepared for it — perhaps even wearing ear protection of some sort.
They have obviously orchestrated this display of their power to awe us with their prowess… It’s working. I am most definitely impressed!
When the tanks came to a halt, the old one climbed out of the cupola and hopped to the ground, almost his entire body length below the vehicle’s main deck, seemingly as spry as any
of his Fleet Marines. As he straightened from the impact, Mral noted that his light gray uniform was embroidered with wide gold braid on the sleeves and his chest was covered in colorful dangling ribbons with shining medallions of some sort… obviously many awards honoring his valor and victories. At his throat, an extra-special award hung from a sky-blue ribbon surrounding his neck, the likes of which Mral had never seen. Obviously, this then must be the human’s fleet commander.
He must truly be revered for great wisdom to have survived so many challenge combats to have achieved such great age, while yet retaining his command over so many young warriors.
As the old human waited next to his armored steed, Mral recognized that it was now his place to approach the human and, thus, begin the humiliating ceremony of formal surrender of himself and his planet to these incomprehensible invaders. Carrying one of the Raknii/English translators at his side, Planet-Master Mral stepped slowly and deliberately away from the small comfort of being surrounded by his people, and approached the ancient giant alien. At a distance of four Rak body lengths away, Mral stopped and bent forward from the waist, until his upper body became parallel to the ground. Rising again slowly, Mral began speaking, pausing occasionally to allow for the device to translate his words for the human commander.
“I am Planet-Master Mral… highest ranking of all the Raknii people inhabiting this planet. Our forces have been overwhelmingly defeated in honorable combat and, having no further means to resist, we voluntarily expose our throats and bellies in formal submission to the victor.” At that, Mral spread his arms wide and raised his head high, blatantly exposing his throat to the old human commander, who then slowly stepped forward and leaned down to place an open hand on Mral’s exposed throat.
“I am Fleet Admiral Roger Kalis, in command of the combined fleets of the United Stellar Alliance, the independent planet Sextus and the Confederate Stellar Accord. I accept your honorable submission of this planet to my authority and I pledge that no harm shall befall your people, without cause. Are you now prepared to release your human prisoners to my custody, that they may also witness this surrender ceremony?”
Defying the Prophet: A Military Space Opera (The Sentience Trilogy Book 2) Page 27
