Platoon F: Pentalogy

by John P. Logsdon

  “That’s the way! Do go on, Lieutenant!”

  “Commodore, sir! I’m a goddamn Commodore. You made me a Commodore!”

  “Right, you are! Get it out of your system, Commodore! It’s healthy to release your stress.”

  It was then that Harr realized that the Rear Admiral just enjoyed being yelled at. The excitement in the man’s eyes was unfathomable.

  “Commodore?”

  Harr dropped his head and shut his eyes.

  “Lieutenant?” Parfait said, obviously trying to get a rise out of Harr.

  “Maybe I should try Ensign Harr? Ensign Murphy, maybe?”

  “Signing off, sir.”

  “But, but, but…” was the last thing Harr heard before he disconnected the call.

  Oftentimes the universe was an unfair mistress. Harr was on a suicide mission with a bunch of people he barely knew, but assumed that they were somehow set up too; his face and body still ached from the cell swap alterations performed on him, and he had a commanding officer that was exhibiting some deep routed issues.

  It was time to change the way things ran.

  It was time to talk to Geezer.

  PROPULSION?

  Compared to the rest of the ship, the engine room was pristine. This was probably because there was no engine. Everything was run via magnetization. Still, there was plenty for an engineer to maintain because parts were parts and parts had a way of breaking down over time.

  Geezer was standing at the far end of the room with his face buried in a monitor. The way his spindly arms stuck out of his square torso reeked of archeology. And what was the need for antennas, really?

  Harr felt a little better seeing that a cable ran from Geezer’s neck into one of the side-panels. That spelled that the bot could communicate with the ship’s systems efficiently enough.

  “Geezer,” Harr announced as he stepped up, “came down to check on the status of things and to ask a few questions.”

  “You betcha, prime,” Geezer said, turning around while wiping his hand on a rag. There was clearly no reason for the rag, but Harr assumed it was some type of programming that mechanics had as default.

  Harr pointed at the cable that ran from Geezer to the wall. “I’m assuming you can multitask while we chat?”

  Geezer looked down at the cable, moving his arms out of the way. “Oh, that? That’s just my power cord, champ.”

  “Power cord?”

  “Got to keep the batteries charged up if you want to keep the old brain functioning, you know?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “So if you don’t eat you can keep 100% mental acuity, eh?”

  “Well, no, but I’m not a robot.”

  “And I’m not one of the newfangled robots, glad to report! They may have self-sustaining systems. I don’t. I have to eat, in a manner of speaking.”

  “Sorry,” Harr said, not really feeling that way. “I meant no offense.”

  “Some taken, chief, but it is what it is. Now, what can I do ya for?”

  Harr had nothing against robots. To him they were just tools for getting a job done. The newer models were fast, efficient, clear-minded, and—thanks to years of the general populace complaining about having to deal with the various personalities that attempted to humanize them—personality-less. But he was dealing with a G.3.3.Z.3.R., and that meant the damn thing did have a personality, which included the propensity for swearing.

  “What do you know about …” he cringed, “propulsion?”

  Geezer didn’t respond instantly, which was uncommon for a robot. Instead, he fidgeted a bit before leaning back against the console that he’d been working on.

  “I know a lot about it,” he replied, finally.

  “You do?”

  “Honcho, I was working on rockets, engines, and all of the other now-illegal tinkerings when you were just a twinkle in your daddy’s eye. Only the Rusty Bucket models had the one-up on propulsion as far as our programming was concerned, but even the RBs couldn’t outdo me once I started getting the hang of things.”

  “Great …”

  “But then, when the Segnal Authority came down against all of the pollution that was being caused by the engines, well, things changed.”

  “Yes, I know about that, but …”

  “You don’t know half of what you think you know, prime. You know about the obvious things like the climate issue and such, but you don’t know about how it affected us G.3.3.Z.3.R.s.”

  Harr hadn’t considered that. Again, to him, robots were just tools. You didn’t ask a wrench if it was unhappy about the need to crank certain types of bolts over others. You just opened the wrench wider, or clenched it shut, twisted it about, and then threw it back in the box.

  “You think that the personality matrix was removed from robotics due to popular demand too, don’t ya? That ain’t the case. Came down to us complaining a fair bit about dropping engines as a standard means of production.”

  “But the fuels…”

  “Were easily replaced, bingo. You don’t have to use fossils in order to make engines roll. Water, batteries, hell, even magnetization works fine.”

  “That’s what we’re using, though, right?”

  “Yeah, but we don’t need the tracks.”

  Harr had to agree with that. The purpose of keeping all of the ships running on tracks through space seemed inefficient at best. Crews were always out adjusting and repairing, or building out new sections that would end up attaching to a new space station. The toughest connect came when a new planet was found, but that was a rarity and Harr had never had to engage in one of those missions. Not yet, anyway.

  “If it weren’t for that damned Segnal Space Track, Inc., we would be free to travel space in the three-dimensional layout as it was meant to be. Simply makes no goddamn sense to put ourselves on a two-dimensional plane in a three-dimensional universe.”

  “Then you do agree with using normal propulsion,” Harr stated gladly. “That’s good because …”

  “Oh, I agree with it, sire, but I’m no fool. I recognize that if I dabble and get caught, I’ll be deactivated. They’ll consider me a rogue. Lost too many G.3.3.Z.3.R.s to that, champ.”

  Harr rubbed his square chin, grunted, and then said, “What if I were to order you to look into propulsion again?”

  “You mean make it out so I didn’t have a choice because I was under orders?”

  “Yeah.”

  “First off, I’d have to know what you’d want me to do. Second, I’d have to come up with a really good reason as to why I didn’t just shut myself down when you forced me into a situation that my programming is supposed to reject.”

  “Well, wait,” Harr said, “that second bit implies that you won’t shut down if I force you into something you’re not supposed to do.”

  “It took a while to get around that subroutine, boss,” Geezer replied. “Happens that if you do have a good reason, you can scoot past it. I just figured out a way to have a simple bypass that is always in effect.”

  “What is the bypass?”

  “Life or death situation.”

  “Ah, perfect!” said Harr, clasping his hands together. “Since you’ve gotten past that little problem, I need you to look into putting standard propulsion on The SSMC Reluctant right away. Forward and aft, plus maneuvering thrusters on the sides. We’ll also need to hook up weapons to be more than just forward facing, which I’ve also always thought was stupid, and, before you ask—no, I don’t care what kind of fuel you use, as long as it won’t cause damage to anyone on this ship and as long as it’s something that can be found on this ship or safely and efficiently sucked into the ship.”

  Geezer had the look of a robot that was seriously considering shutting itself down.

  “I don’t know what your plan is, honcho, but not only is that a lot of work, I’ve just detailed to you how it’s considered bad, bad, bad. They could shut me down. That may not matter much to you, but I kind of have a vested interest in being
around for a while.”

  “Our orders are to jump track in sector 27 at precisely the right time, and with the right momentum, so that The SSMC Reluctant will be set on a collision course with the Kortnor space station at 27-19. It’s a suicide mission because we won’t have a way to turn once we jump the tracks and we won’t have a way to get back if we miss.”

  Geezer stood back up and started wiping his hands with the rag. “So that was both front and aft propulsion you wanted?”

  “With thrusters for steering, yes.”

  “Send me down a couple of crewmen and I’ll get right on it. I’ll figure out a way to do it with piss and vinegar, if I have to.”

  GATHERING INTELLIGENCE

  There were few things more difficult that a commander had to do than tell his crew that they were going to die. With any luck, that wasn’t actually going to happen, but he had to prepare them for the worst. That was one of the unfortunate aspects of commanding a crew.

  “Commander,” Harr said to Sandoo while climbing onto the bridge, “assemble the crew please.”

  “Main officers, or …”

  “All of them,” Harr said, “except for Geezer and his crew. He already knows what’s going on, and I’ve given him liberty to explain the situation to his helpers.”

  Sandoo went about gathering up everyone as Harr checked in with each of his other officers.

  “Ensign Jezden, what have you come up with?”

  “Seems pretty dismal, if you ask me. Even if we set the exit point off enough to miss the space station while still getting in a raking blow, The Reluctant is going to be lost. There’s just no getting back. Now, we can jump into the pods and launch over to the station, but only if we don’t destroy it. I mean, screw the rest of the crew, right?”

  “Wrong, but go on.”

  Jezden shrugged. “Point is that aside from actually flying into that thing, we’re either lost in space or not following orders.”

  Harr nodded. Those weren’t the only options, but Jezden was the type that didn’t really think well out of the box. He was a selfish prick that thought in terms of covering his own ass. People like him had their uses, but Jezden certainly wasn’t the type to have running a mission.

  “Lieutenant Laasel?”

  “Sir?” she responded, making Harr sigh in the relief that it was her main personality that had responded.

  “Have you come up with anything beyond what Ensign Jezden has already recommended?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said strongly. “I checked the inventory and we have twenty lifeboats on board. That’s more than enough to set The Reluctant on her proposed course, do an emergency evacuation, and save all of our hides.”

  “I like the way you think, Lieutenant … when you’re you, I mean.”

  “Sir?”

  “I like the way she thinks when she’s Gravity Plahdoo,” Jezden pointed out.

  “Nevermind that,” Harr said tightly.

  “Did someone call my name?”

  The Lieutenant’s demeanor changed as rapidly as her personality. She began unbuttoning her shirt while writhing her hips. It even looked like her lips ballooned ever slightly, but that could have just been the way she was making a kiss-kiss look.

  “Now we’re talkin’,” Jezden said with a wide grin.

  “No, we’re not,” Harr stated. “Gravity Plahdoo, please return Lieutenant Laasel to us straightaway. We have important business to attend to.”

  A blink later, Laasel stood looked confused and was buttoning up again.

  “Gravity Plahdoo,” said Jezden.

  The buttons started coming down again.

  “Lieutenant Laasel!”

  … buttoning back up.

  “Plahdoo!”

  … down.

  “Laasel!”

  … up.

  “Plahdoo!”

  “Laasel! And that’s enough out of you, Ensign! One more time and I’ll have your ass thrown in the brig, stripped naked, tied up, and I’ll put Hank Moon in there with you along with a jug of lube and any toys that Moon may have brought along with him!”

  Jezden started to argue, but Harr gave him a glare and added, “and if you give me any more lip, I’ll hold back the lube.”

  “Did thomone call my name?” said Moon, pants coming undone.

  “Laasel!”

  Laasel blinked a few times and began refastening her trousers.

  “What’s going on, sir?” she asked, looking perplexed.

  “Nothing is going on, Lieutenant,” Harr replied. “Isn’t that right, Ensign?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jezden answered in a huff.

  “Good. Why don’t you two work on the idea that Laasel had. I’d like to talk to Yek alone before the rest of the crew is on deck. And stick to business, Ensign, or I swear I’ll make good on my threat.”

  Laasel and Jezden moved away to discuss the specifics of the lifeboats. Harr could only hope that Jezden would focus on the topic at hand, but unless Sandoo figured out a way to keep Laasel from switching back and forth all over the place, Jezden would likely have a consenting partner any time he said “Plahdoo.”

  Yek was standing by a strut on the opposite side of the bridge. There was no doubt that the man could disappear in a heartbeat. Harr couldn’t explain it. Something about the way Yek moved just screamed that he was a killer. Murderer? That depended on perspective, Harr supposed. Either way, Yek wasn’t someone to be trifled with, but Harr had a job to do and a crew to look out for.

  “It seems to me,” Harr said, as he folded his arms and looked Yek in the eye, “that our orders were a little too familiar to you, Yek. Got something you want to tell me?”

  “Nope,” Yek replied without so much as a flinch.

  “Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t expect those orders?”

  “Nope.”

  “You didn’t? Wait, did you mean that you didn’t expect them or that you’re not trying to tell me you didn’t expect them?”

  “Right.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Harr said, not sure if that was truly was what he’d thought. “I’d even lay credits that you didn’t only know, you were part of the club that developed the orders in the first place. What do you say to that?”

  “I’d say that you have quite the imagination, Lieutenant Murphy.”

  Harr felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. Nobody was supposed to know about his alter ego. That was classified information.

  He did everything in his power to keep a straight face, but this blood pressure was on the rise.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” Yek said, flipping his long hair over his shoulder. “I have a much higher security clearance than you do. You’re just a peon compared to me.” Yek closed his eyes. “You see, I know how to get things done. That’s why I’m here.” He reopened them. “You do your job and I’ll do mine, and nobody gets hurt. Simple as that.”

  “Nobody gets hurt on a suicide mission?”

  “Nobody important.”

  “The entire crew is going to die, Yek.”

  “Right.”

  “Including you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Doesn’t that bug you just a little bit?”

  “Not really,” Yek said casually. “We all have to go at some point. May as well be now.”

  “Well, I’m not a fan of dying so soon. I have a plan to put this boat where we want it, accomplish the mission, and still get back. What do you have to say to that?”

  Yek moved so quickly that Harr had barely had time to blink before the smaller man was standing directly in his grill. Harr had been through enough training that he could snap most people in two, especially those the size of Yek, but Harr’s gut told him that the more still he stayed the better chance he had of surviving.

  “What I have to say to that, Lieutenant Murphy, is that anyone who impedes this mission will not live to die during this mission. Do you understand that?”

  “So you’re saying that you’ll kill anyone who tri
es to mess things up so as to ensure that everyone else will still be alive in order to die as they are expected to?”

  “In the line of duty, yes.”

  “Commodore?” Sandoo said, walking across the bridge, “I have everyone assembled, sir.”

  “Good,” Harr said and then looked back at Yek. “You have to do what you have to do, Yek. Just as I do.”

  “Careful, Murphy.”

  “It’s Harr, Yek. Commodore Don Harr,” then he pushed Yek away and added, “and don’t you forget it.”

  INFORMING THE CREW

  “So what you’re saying is that we’re all going to die?”

  “That’s the plan, crewman,” Harr replied coolly. “At least that’s what the brass expects us to do.”

  Harr clasped his hands behind his back and started to walk back and forth while the murmur of voices discussed the situation. One of the funny things about people was that they had a tendency to follow commands, even if it meant the potentiality of their own demise. He’d seen it firsthand for years, and it could be witnessed throughout history by just watching a vid on any military subject. Hell, he’d even felt it a few times when he was a cadet. The proper leader with the proper voice could make you feel that dying for a cause was A-okay, even if you weren’t 100% sold on the cause itself.

  Fortunately for this crew, Harr had a different leadership style.

  “How many of you actually want to lose your lives today?”

  Only Yek raised his hand.

  “How many of you would prefer another solution, even if it meant going against everything you’ve been taught?”

  About half the hands went up. Harr somewhat expected that. Most people would rather die knowing that they were acting by-the-book than survive by doing something wrong.

  “Close enough,” he said. “My plan is to stick propulsion on this ship.”

  Gasps and chatter ensued.

  Everyone on this ship, Harr included, had been fed the naughtiness of using fuel for combustion. It destroyed climates, ate planetary resources, smelled bad, and made the wealthy wealthier. The wealthy, of course, disagreed with all of this, except for the bit about making them wealthier.