by Mark Wandrey
Again Lilith paused to consider. “Having his assistance would be advisable.”
As they finished gearing up and moved over to the Kaatan wreck, Kal’at was dropped off by one of the shuttles. They were just beginning to transfer EPCs to the first two Ibeen in preparation of bringing them on line. An additional team of five more Beezer was added as well, both as security and possible manpower to work on salvage from the much larger wreck.
Lilith led the Beezer work crew, supervised by Kal’at and Isook, down to the power center of the wreck. They removed one of the three spent ship class EPCs, letting it float to waiting workers where it would be transported to an Ibeen, and carefully maneuvered the improvised one in place.
“Carefully,” Kal’at hissed as the hugely strong Beezer easily manhandled the five hundred kilo module between them. The Electro-Plasma Capacitors were designed to be highly stable. That said, the arrays were manufactured from dozens of older, salvaged EPCs. It wasn’t unheard of that one would fail and discharge its plasma in a deadly splash. With it packed in with dozens of others, there could be a chain reaction. Minu didn’t want to imagine how that would look.
The flattened cylinder of the EPC housing slid into its receptacle in the silence of vacuum. A single blue telltale lit up above the module once it was all the way in. Lilith moved to the main control panel adjacent to the EPC bays and tapped it to life. Lines of script flashed across it and she made selections.
“I am only bringing up life support at this point,” she told them. “We want to be in the CIC when I allow power to flow into the main systems and computer core.” Only a moment later, their suits showed atmosphere beginning to flow.
“Airtight forcefields have appeared in the cargo bay,” a Beezer salvage worker reported.
“The ship will use them wherever doors are ineffective,” Lilith explained.
Atmospheric pressure reached nominal for The People in less than a minute. That air held a little more oxygen and a bit high in pressure for humans though well within tolerance. Minu was about to reach for her helmet then thought again.
“Let’s keep our suits sealed until Lilith has the ship’s computer under control,” she instructed. Lilith cast her eyes at Minu for a moment but shrugged before closing the power panel and heading back to the CIC.
In the heart of the ship, Lilith accessed a hatch Minu had never knew existed. In the ‘bottom’ of the circular chamber, it went down just a half meter and opened out into a flat shallow room several meters on the side. Minu maneuvered herself down with some difficulty because of her spacesuit. “What is this?”
“This is the computer room,” Lilith told her. Block after block of the Kaatan’s nearly ubiquitous blue crystal components were mounted in milky white moliplas along all sides of the claustrophobic space. A single blue telltale flashed, like back in the power room. Lilith touched it and a tiny holographic screen appeared before her eyes. Minu could make out its script. It asked if she wanted to initiate a restart. “Please inform the Beezer on board to not make any threatening actions towards the ship unless it starts open hostilities. The combat intelligence may be disoriented initially.”
Minu relayed the orders to Isook who in turn told his crew. “We’re ready,” Minu said a few seconds later. Lilith nodded and tapped the display.
Instantly the room’s formerly inactive banks of crystalline memory modules came alive with a million interlaced flashes of light. Minu thought it looked like miniature lightning storms as seen in the sky from her island cabin back on Bellatrix.
Lilith moved around Minu gracefully and out the access and into the CIC. Minu carefully turned around and followed her, using her hands to guide herself out of the cramped space.
Outside Lilith waved a hand through the single holographic control panel that floated near the hatch, bringing up a page of script. Similar to how Minu manipulated the controls within a PCR (portal control rod), Lilith grabbed several script symbols, twisted and turned, and the screen flashed blue then disappeared.
As the moments passed everyone looked around for any sign of something happening when Lilith’s head suddenly came up. An all too familiar screeching, chattering voice spoke in the air. Unlike before on the Kaatan years ago, their translators now had the language matrix it needed.
“Who are you, and where are my biological operators?”
“They are dead,” Lilith spoke, surprisingly, in their own language.
Instantly the door to the CIC slammed closed and the lights came on in a subdued blue. Minu’s suit screamed a warming that the atmosphere was being bled from the chamber and she thanked her instincts to leave on their helmets. There was a shimmer around Lilith as her support bot backpack reestablished the forcefield around her.
Lilith gestured toward a wall and a small group of her bots emerged, moved over to another section and went inside the wall again. A new holographic screen appeared before Lilith and she instantly started manipulating script. This time Minu caught some of it which her manipulated brain began translating. It was something to do with internal defenses.
“How do you have Kaatan access codes?” the voice demanded.
“I have ship, and fleet command codes,” Lilith spoke with clear confidence. A new panel appeared in front of her at eye level. Lilith reached into it and entered a code. The script flashed and disappeared.
“Code accepted,” the combat intelligence said. Minu thought it almost sounded resigned. “A status update is required. Following this ship’s last battle, substantial damage was done rendering this ship incapable of fighting and it was taken under tow by other combat elements. Pending a regrouping operation, I was deactivated until salvage could be performed.”
Lilith took it all in, then glanced at Minu for the first time looking for guidance, so she spoke up.
“There will be no salvage operation,” Minu said.
Lilith held her hand up and a bot crawled onto her fingertips and began speaking in the People’s chattering language.
“Who is the being speaking, and what species are you?” the computer voice asked.
“That is Minu Groves,” Lilith explained, “and we are humans. She is the commander of the human’s military forces. The others back there are Beezer, and the small one a Rasa.”
“There is no species on record that meet these specifications,” the combat intelligence said. “Your genus is hominid, very similar to The People.” It paused for a second. “External sensors are offline and internal clocks non-functional. How long have I been offline?”
“There is no easy way to say this,” Kal’at said. Minu agreed. Lilith solved it for them.
“More than one million years, but that is only an estimate.”
“And the People?”
“They are extinct in the galaxy. Very few species survive from that time.”
Again there was a pause. “I am made to serve The People. In the absence of them, I answer to whomever has the proper codes. I am at your disposal.” The lights changed to a normal shading, the CIC doors opened, and their suits told them atmospheric pressure was resuming normal.
Minu breathed a sigh of relief. “Maybe you better bring the combat intelligence up to speed?” Lilith agreed and began communicating with the program in a much faster way using her implants. As Lilith conversed at a speed much faster than mere speaking could convey, Minu was also thinking fast. A few dozen kilometers away floated a huge warship many times larger and equally more powerful than the Kaatans. The only one who could have possibly operated it was Lilith, who would never have left the Kaatan. Suddenly, more options were coming available.
The baby kicked, hard, and Minu grunted. I miss you, she thought of Aaron, but she also smiled a little smile. This operation was working better than she had dreamed possible.
Chapter 9
January 29th, 535 AE
Unknown Space
Aaron felt rather unwelcome. Sure Strike had made it glaringly obvious that the detour he’d been forced to take was
all Aaron’s fault. The cruiser Octal 1 had docked with a transfer vehicle, an open hulled ship stuffed with all manner of equipment and possible salvage. Dozens of Squeen clung to netting in places, some obviously families, others on some unknown mission. At least a dozen other species were in evidence as well, of which he recognized half.
A pair of armed and armored Squeen guards escorted him over along with Sure Strike. Once aboard, the guards stayed with Aaron while the captain met with the ship’s master. A while later, he came back scuttling along the myriad of handholds placed in every place imaginable.
“I have diverted the ship’s master to take us to the command ship,” he told Aaron. “He is upset with you now as well as his paying trips will be delayed.”
“Swell,” Aaron said and was immediately aware that every being in the cargo area was looking at him. A pair of the proud and easily annoyed Taccari watched him with apparent disdain, their huge avian eyes blinking and head crest feather standing erect. Their bright beaks looked formidable to the unarmed Aaron. The arachnid Capdep might or might not have been watching him with its six eyes, Aaron wasn’t sure. It clung to the web of cargo netting in zero gravity and seemed quite at home, possibly a member of the transfer vessels crew.
The ship undocked from the cruiser and Aaron noted a slight acceleration. The ship was obviously a salvaged craft that once likely had had a very different life before being pressed into service as its new role. Everything about it cried out improvisation and adaptation. The life support in particular seemed to be struggling. His nose wrinkled of its own accord as the smell of multiple alien species in stale air assailed him.
Luckily the trip was not a long one and the transfer vessel docked with another ship. A Squeen crewman bounded over and chattered to Sure Strike. “We have docked with the command ship.”
“My thanks,” he replied.
“You can thank me by getting this annoyance off my vessel.”
There was no way to tell what ship of the dozens he’d seen that he was being taken aboard, but the corridors were wide and sweeping which to him suggested great size.
The ship’s interior teemed with activity. Mostly Squeen scurried about on unknown tasks. Aaron did note a few other species, in particular a number of the earlier spotted Capdeps. He’d only seem images of them from other Chosen scouts over the years. Tenacious scavengers, they kept to themselves and had proven non-confrontational.
The corridors were in gravity unlike the transfer ship and even the cruiser he’d spent so long aboard. It eased their movement through the ship until the guards escorted him to a large chamber. Inside were a dozen or more Squeen all surrounded by holographic displays they were interacting with. As Aaron entered, the Squeen in the center turned.
“I remember you,” he spoke, the voice coming from Aaron’s translator.
“And I remember you, Strong Arm.”
The alien’s elongated ears twitched and he considered Aaron in his now very well worn jumpsuit. He gestured to Sure Strike who came and joined the other Squeen around their screen and was greeted warmly.
“Your appearance on a Tanam ship has caused a great deal of consternation.”
“There is a logical explanation for that,” Aaron replied.
“Yes, Sure Strike tells us you claim to have been a hostage of the Tanam, taken on the Traga leasehold of Coorson several weeks ago.” Aaron nodded and said that was correct. “Yet you were found in a combat space suit free on the enemy ship and in good health.”
“They were taking me for questioning at the time,” Aaron offered. “When the ship was severely damaged I knew my only chance was to get into a suit or be spaced.” All the sets of dark eyes regarded him. “I’m sorry, if I had known it would have proved my innocence I would have allowed myself to die in space.”
“This situation doesn’t call for sarcasm, human.”
Aaron grunted. They looked so much like a cartoon squirrel from children’s animated shows, you’d think they’d have a sense of humor. “No, you are right. It calls for honesty and that is what I am offering.”
“Is that all you have to offer?”
Aaron turned at the new voice and saw another familiar Squeen, Quick Finder. He along with Strong Arm had been rescued by Minu from the Tanam during their failed attack on Serengeti some time ago. The Tanam had been upset at losing the pair of Squeen, referring to them as Gracktaag, a word their translators wouldn’t render into English.
“I could offer you a somewhat worn jumpsuit.” Stares. Aaron sighed. “I would suspect you can try to ransom me back to the Chosen.” He didn’t add that he doubted Jacob would pay more than a handful of worn EPCs for his hide.
“Ransom is not really our style,” Strong Arm said. “We like to deal of more tangibles.”
“What’s more tangible than credits?”
“Data or goods,” Quick Finder told him. “Because of our…political situation, credits are far less tangible.”
Aaron considered that and found some validity there. Humanity had found it difficult to buy some things regardless of the price. Minu long suspected it was because the higher order species wanted to make sure the small types stayed in their places. There were species out in the galaxy that would be convinced to sell, if you had something yourself to offer that was unavailable to your buying partner. And that was when an idea occurred to him.
“I think I can offer you something. But you’re going to have to get me in touch with my boss.”
Chapter 10
January 31st, 535 AE
Ghost fleet, Deep Space, Galactic Frontier
“Here we go,” Kal’at said and touched a control with a claw. Lilith floated nearby in the little control room crowded with a half dozen Beezer, Minu, and the Rasa technical expert besides herself. It was rather crowded, to say the least.
Nothing happened for a long moment, and then a series of non-holographic screens began to display lines of script.
“The main computer is coming on line,” Lilith told them.
“Is the computer interpreter working?” Minu asked.
Lilith had a holographic screen displayed from her own bots and was working with the script, a look of concentration on her face before she responded. “It is not perfect,” she said and then gestured to make the screen disappear, “but I think it will work.”
As if on cue, and maybe it was, the work stations came to life one at a time. Pilot, engineering, life support, damage control, power management, and defenses all were now online. The Beezer manning each one acknowledged as they came alive. After a few minutes of system checks, Isook turned and proclaimed “Ibeen Alpha is operational.” And there was nods and cheers all around.
“Pakata,” Minu said and the leader of the Beezer turned to her, “this ship is under your command as per the agreement we have signed.”
“I understand,” he grumbled. “Isook, you are captain.”
“I am honored!” Isook huffed back and have a slight zero-gravity bow. The two beings grasped powerful furry forearms and butted horns against each other. Minu grimaced. She knew it probably didn’t hurt them, but to her it looked painful.
“You must remember,” Lilith instructed them, “these interpreter programs are stop-gap measures I have written with the help of the salvaged combat intelligence. The Ibeen were meant to have their own specialized artificial intelligence programs to operate them. This arrangement is similar to what records show was used to maneuver Ibeen within ports. It is not intended to operate them in space or combat. We’ve had experience with these ships in improvised operations scenarios, and it didn’t end well.”
Minu knew exactly what Lilith meant. Pip had been in control of one when he’d been forced into combat. The experience had almost driven him insane.
The last days had been spent verifying the condition of the ship and that the improvised EPC would provide sufficient power. There were far too many of those improvisations for the liking of both Kal’at and Lilith. The newly salvaged combat i
ntelligence off the wrecked Kaatan could easily operate the Ibeen. It was a waste though. Minu had her first salvage team aboard the Fiisk heavy cruiser making their initial assessments as salvage of the other four Ibeen continued. She was wishing she’d brought more personnel, even though the Kaatan had been stuffed full on the trip there.
Later Lilith, Minu and Kal’at were discussing the timetable for getting the last four Ibeen active when Lilith suddenly fell silent and stared off into space. Minu recognized that look. “What is it?”
“Another ship in range of my sensors.” The thin redhead instantly sped up, swimming through the halls to where their shuttle was docked.
“Combat ship?”
“Unable to ascertain that at this moment,” she said as the door slid open on their approach. Already the Ibeen was acting more like a fully functional ship. Lilith had the shuttle coming alive and the door already closing as Minu flew through. Kal’at snapped a curse and barely got his tale through without losing a centimeter as the hatch banged closed and the shuttle undocked. She hadn’t bothered sucking out the atmosphere from the connecting tunnel, just blew the seal and pushed away.
“Ibeen Alpha, we are pushing away,” Lilith informed, rather after the fact.
As she often did when flying the shuttles, Lilith didn’t bother going into the cockpit. Since she had no need of physical controls, where she did it was simply not a factor. With a hand she created a holographic tank in the center of the shuttle’s passenger cabin and there was space centered on their shuttle. The tiny dart shape moved away from the cluster of balls that was the Ibeen and towards a nearby ball pierced with a needle. The scale compressed to show the entire ghost fleet. Four more Ibeen, scattered fragments, the group of ruined Kaatan, and there the three balls pierced by three needles of the Fiisk.
Still more compression to show the expanded debris field, and beyond that still more. The entire ghost fleet was only a fuzzy dot, telling Minu that the scale was approaching stellar scale. Sure enough, there was the bulk of the distant brown dwarf, all that survived from a star gone nova more than a million years ago. An arrow flashed green and left a slightly luminescent trail as it moved near the fleet.
