“And, we can show you how to implement these mods and upgrades in record time. We will play to our strengths and what each of our forces do well.”
“We have yet to see your forces fight,” Dexon noted.
“Yes, indeed,” Ma’triid chimed in. “How do we know that you can prevail against these foes who have given us so much trouble?”
Naero smiled. “Watch our vidscreens. Evaluate this skirmish we recently fought against elements of the enemy who tried to entrap and destroy one of our fleets. My people and I come from very valiant blood. We are warriors, and we are not afraid to fight. But we prefer to pick and choose the time and place that we fight, when and where possible.”
No one said anything. Therefore, Naero assumed that they were all sufficiently impressed.
Naero rose up and struck the unbreakable nanotable until it splintered and then healed. “Together we shall crush these foes, because they are our enemies, as well. They have killed countless numbers of our peoples, just as they have yours, and we have pursued them to this place to take them down. We will hit them where they are weak, where they least expect us to strike. We will not let up until they are a crushed, defeated, and dead at our feet!”
“Where should we strike them first?” Dexon enquired.
“I’m happy that you asked,” Naero said. She brought up tactical holos with waves of her hands.
“We will bolster our defenses, study the enemy further, and prepare our forces over the next ten days to two weeks. Then we attack these four forward naval bases. That will cut the area that they effectively control by almost half and put them on the defensive with their systems. We will then switch from primarily reacting and defending, to attacking and advancing.”
Sezzim protested. “How will launching mere attacks on those naval bases accomplish all of that?”
“Because,” Naero said, clenching both fists tight. “We aren’t just going to attack those fleets. We shall wipe them out and destroy them!”
18
Their foes did two things in response to the arrival of the Spacers, now that they knew who the new players were. First, they increased their attacks on the four races: the Lish, the Mechans, the Sa’shom, and the Amavar.
All reports from the Kodar said that the enemy began using those fools primarily for food. Yet Naero still felt sorry for the helpless Kodar people. They couldn’t do much for them, now. But she hoped that would change one day.
Most likely the invaders would have still done everything that they did in any case. Perhaps they merely moved up their plans.
Next, the enemy began shifting and reinforcing their defensive screens and forces, and shuffled them on a daily basis. They did their beast to keep the Alliance guessing.
The enemy reverted to playing their hand cautiously, not knowing, as yet, how numerous the Spacer fleets were or the full range of their capabilities.
Naero hoped that the days before the main attacks would give her and Khai a chance to finally track down the location of where and how the enemy was holding and containing their unborn child.
Each time Baeven or the others got close, it seemed as if the enemy would get spooked somehow, and move her to some other secret place again.
It became maddening.
In the meantime, Naero also wanted herself and her people to get to know their new allies better. That was going to be very important. Each culture and its race seemed fairly unique.
She had had some initial exposure to the Lish. The other three still remained unfamiliar.
And when they got around to it, the Allies needed to go back and capture some of the Kodar and figure out how deep they or their leaders were involved with the enemy.
The Spacers and their new fixer nebulae were more than busy, improving the system defenses, fleet capabilities, and expanding the fixernet out farther and farther into the Gamma Quadrant each day.
All and all, it was a process, or at best a conglomeration of many series of processes.
Naero and Fleet 1 went with Fleets 2 through 10 to survey and learn what could be learned about the Mechans, their worlds, culture, and the threats they faced.
Not finding Naero-3 was weighing heavily on her mind, whatever she chose to do. Having Khai beside her and being able to be with him and have him near was the only thing keeping her from plummeting off the deep end.
To make matters slightly worse, when she and Khai tried to use the new Oden Astral crystals, they couldn’t get them to work. Something was blocking, jamming, or messing up access to the Astral Plane. That in itself was incredibly weird.
There was a schedule to keep up with.
They travelled first to Taekom-7, one of the primary Mechan homeworlds, with a population of sixteen billion people. As one of the Mechan leaders, Dexon explained that his people were not robots, exactly. Nor were they androids.
Dexon himself was 1.80 meters, bipedal, with five-fingered mechanical hands, but no toes. Although Mechan feet were segmented and flexible. They had heads with two complex eyes, a vocalizer mouth, but no nose or ears. Mechan eyes were various colors. Dexon’s were deep, cobalt blue.
Could Mechans smell anything? Naero knew they could hear.
From what Naero learned, Mechans were living, sentient machines. They had free will, and they had also developed emotions at some point. They were a very ancient species. They did not eat food, but fed on energy one to three times each day when possible, to boost and sustain their power cores. They also kept their various systems lubricated, clean, and functioning properly through routine scans and maintenance.
“Might I examine you with teknomancy?” Naero asked Dexon.
“You have my permission,” the Mechan leader said.
Naero was amazed. Mechans were a marvel of engineering. She merged with Dexon and understood his operating systems and functions. She even had to use biomancy at the same time to perceive the Mechan version of the Lifespark. They were, in fact, alive. And once that Lifespark was lost or gone, so were they.
Did they have souls? Naero was afraid to ask. Would a Mechan soul be released like other sentients and go on to the next journey? Where did any souls go, for that matter?
Secretly, Naero could not help comparing to the Mechans to the Driathans–Jia’s people. But the Mechans were neither as perfect-looking or indestructible. They were made out of very durable, but regularly available materials. The Mechans were not as advanced, refined as the Driathans, and looked much more ‘machine-like.’
What would they think of Jia if they met her? They were all mechanical constructs, after all. But the Driathans were clearly a more advanced form of intricate life. As different species as Spacers were from early homo sapiens, or for that matter, Cro-Magnon man.
Mechans were also mortal. Their bodies wore out and could also be damaged and destroyed like any machine, and just as susceptible to battle damage as any other lifeform, as the war continued to prove. What’s more, the enemy could take them over–if they weren’t damaged that much, re-program or hi-jack their mechanical brains and minds, and turn them into robots or automatons.
Doing so obviously robbed them of their unique, individuality.
Naero and Khai and others noted Mechan ‘children’ of various sizes and developmental ages.
As Dexon went on to explain, “Mechans also reproduce, after their own fashion. They build their offspring as needed. Usually, Mechans have very good friends whom they are fond of, and can even form family groups with. But since they do not have sex, as biological organisms do, they do not mate.
“Although they can pair up to create offspring, and in essence be developmental parents, sharing in both the construction and the orientation and education of the child. Mechans are neuter, again, not being sexual in nature. But they do care for each other and their offspring to a very high degree.”
Khai asked. “How long do Mechans exist before they wear out and die?”
Dexon answered without hesitation. “About two hundred of your standard years, before the
ir mechanisms and relays simply degrade enough to make further existence extremely difficult, and even painful.”
Naero knitted her brows. “Mechans feel pain?” She knew that Jia did, both physical and emotional–even psyonic and Cosmic pain. And she clearly knew and understood love on many intricate levels.
“My people do have emotions,” Dexon said, with conviction. “We are living, mechanical organisms with sensitive, physical bodies. Why would we not feel pain when we are injured or hurt?”
Khai continued with his line of questioning. “With the war, when a Spacer–when one of our people is slain, we experience sorrow and sadness. We mourn the loss of our dead for a time, and know grief. Do Mechans experience such emotions? What do you do with your dead?”
“When a Mechan stops functioning–or ‘dies,’ as you call it; we do miss them and mark their loss. Before their bodies and their components are recycled, if possible, their knowledge and wisdom is passed among their offspring, companions, and friends, so that parts of them continue on. But their personality remains unique to them and can only be recalled and remembered, not reproduced.”
“I don’t understand. Why don’t the Mechans simply transplant their brains and their minds into a new mechanical body? They do so for their children, until their minds are fully developed and considered an adult. You could all be immortal. You could exist and function forever.”
“That is not possible,” Dexon noted. “Our minds and personalities are also unique to each of us, just as yours are. The same reason that they cannot be exactly copied or precisely duplicated. Nor do they last forever or continue to function without error. Error creeps in, and the actual mechanisms of our brains wear out, and will eventually seize up on their own and stop functioning, even if they are not shut down voluntarily. This degradation is computed, and the individual selects a date and time to shut themselves down.”
“So,” Khai said, “Mechans, left to themselves, wear out and eventually choose their own time of death.”
“Yes. You could say it that way.”
“Can a dead Mechan be repaired?”
“Their bodies can be repaired readily enough, if they are not already worn out. Damage to their brains and minds is much more difficult, and at times–especially during war–impossible to repair.”
Naero nodded, understanding completely. “It is the same way with us.”
Dexon smiled. Mechans did smile and frown and experience loss and a form of sorrow. “Then we are not so unlike after all,” he said.
The Mechans, for their part, were incredibly obsessed with the fixers. Dexon and others could not help asking about them almost constantly, and studying them and their bewildering Kexxian tek whenever they had the chance.
It was not a tek that the Spacers were willing to give over, even to their new allies. They guarded it jealousy. Of course, they would make use of the fixers to assist their allies, to be sure. But as an ultimate failsafe, any fixer that was ever kidnapped, by the enemy or anyone else automatically rendered itself inert and useless, in order to avoid having its amazing tek copied and put to evil use.
They were on their way to meet with the planetary leader of Taekom-7, in order to confirm various treaties and trade agreements.
Khai was still full of questions as they made their way through the Mechan gigacity capital of Mevad, attracting quite a bit of attention as they walked and boarded various transport shuttles and movers. Ra and Tarim came along, as well as a dozen Spacer Marines in full armor and gear. When they all got close enough, they would take an official shuttle waiting for them, that would bring them right to the planetary leadership facility.
Everyone stopped and pointed at them. “Look at the Bios!” many said.
“So I take it the Mechans have no religion of any kind, or spiritual beliefs?” Khai said.
“That is an erroneous assumption,” Dexon said. “My people are extremely spiritual, and worship our Creator, who we also call ‘The Great Maker,’ or just ‘The Maker.’ We see all existence–the entire universe–as little more than an enormous, complex machine, set into motion by a Creator with incredible purpose and intent. We are a part of that great mechanism, and should do our part to operate and function properly, and maintain order and harmony. Those who are violent, illogical, or threaten our existence or our free will make themselves our enemies and must be defeated.”
They reached the shuttle finally and sped off to the leadership facility for Taekom-7.
“I must warn you,” Dexon said, “our planetary leader is somewhat…unique. Even eccentric. Petarri is one hundred and eighty-seven standard years old, and has what you humans might call a rare sense of humor, and a penchant for mirth. Please make allowances. Most Mechans are not this way.”
Naero smirked and almost giggled. What was the old Mechan going to do? A stand-up routine? She had to get used to them being asexual and not having gender. She still thought of Dexon as male somehow.
Mechan government was very simple. They met in a relatively small building in a normal-sized conference room.
Petarri was short, only slightly taller than Naero herself, about 1.6 meters. Petarri’s voice was somewhat higher pitched, and therefore more feminine. Despite knowing that Mechans were neither male nor female, Naero couldn’t keep herself from thinking about Petarri as a ‘her.’ It was difficult to stop assigning such frames of reference.
The Mechan Planetary Leader was polished gold, orange, and white, with copper-plated highlights, and green eyes. Some of those highlights were corroded.
No Mechan had anything akin to hair or clothing. They did carry equipment, supplies, and tools at times, and their heads and bodies and limbs were shaped and designed differently.
Petarri rose up to greet them and quipped right off, “So, what do we have here? Three energy beings, one of them a bug, and thirteen slightly optimized meat tubes? You know, humanoid bioforms are basically complex toruses of meat and bone that only produce carbon dioxide, and what you peeps call urine and poop.”
Naero chuckled and shot back, “And Mechans seem to be glorified pocket comps with a head knob, hands, and feet.”
“Good one!” Petarri said, roaring with laughter. “Pocket comps…head knobs!” She laughed out of control for a few moments.
Dexon looked slightly nervous; a version of Mechan mortified.
After a bit more jocularity, they settled down to the task at hand, making and securing their agreements, treaties, and trade pacts. It took less than a quarter of an hour to make the Mechans part of the Alliance.
“Depending upon how various battles went today,” Petarri said, “the Mechans control 340 worlds. We hope that this new Alliance with you glorified meat tubes is going to keep us all from being scrapped or reprogrammed by these destructive invaders.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Naero said. “We’ve already begun to help upgrade your offensive and defensive systems. And we will fight beside you and the other three species. “Our allies are more bugs and snake meat tubes. But that doesn’t matter. They could be algae scum for all we care, if they can keep us all from being recycled.”
They spoke at length on several major issues over the course of the next hour.
“Well,” Petarri said. “What are you meat tubes wasting time around here for? Don’t you have to go confirm all the same kind of stuff with the snakes, and then the dragonflies and the spiders?”
“I suppose we are done here for the time being,” Naero said. “It is nice working with you and Dexon, Petarri.”
“Hey, Naero. We are allies now. You don’t have to oil us down. Do what you need to and move on. Mechans don’t get upset about stuff like that. That’s a human thing. You won’t hurt our feelings that way.”
“Very well then,” Naero said, standing up. “We will be on our way. Thank you very much, Planetary Leader Petarri.”
“Sure, thing Naero. Stay in touch, and let’s get this plan rolling. We’re still losing ground each day. But this is the
best news we have had in decades!”
Once they were back with the Spacer fleets, Naero had word that an enemy attack was occurring nearby, on a Mechan world called Corvine-3.
A handful of enemy fleets were giving the twenty-seven million Mechans there a very hard time. Corvine-3 had not been fully militarized as yet.
Naero analyzed the situation and called upon Marine General Azkhalatara Walker. “General, I think we could lend a hand to our new allies on Corvine-3. Take a look at this sitrep and tell me what you think.” Naero shunted it over.
“Are we talking Ejjai, sir? I really despise Ejjai.”
Naero nodded. “Copy that; I think we all do. As stated, I think we can drop down and spoil their fun on Corvine-3 nicely, just like in the old days. But there are Dakkur, possessed, and other threats present as well.”
“Very well, sir. Give me a moment to assess.”
“Take some time.” Naero prepared the fleet raider formations as she waited, and shifted logistics flows to cover such an attack.
The general came back to her in a matter of minutes. “Let’s ride, sir. I like your initial plan. Do I have your permission to pweak it a bit?”
“Pweak away, General. Make it your own.”
The Mechan forces on Corvine-3 were taking a pounding. The invaders had just barely managed to seize control of the air, and pulled their troops back to carpet bomb a score of the largest cities, including the system capital of Dartin. They also drilled command and control and military bases from orbit.
Several things happened almost simultaneously.
Up in the black, ten Spacer fleets jumped in on optimal attack vectors and caught the enemy napping. The enemy fools were so overconfident, they didn’t even have their formations set.
The Spacers hit them ten different ways and chewed them to pieces.
Waves of Navy and Marine starfighters also appeared out of nowhere, and shot the enemy from the skies of Corvine-3, sending them spinning and burning to the surface. Then those same fighters came about and strafed anything else the enemy had exposed.
Naero's War: The Citation Series 3: Naero's Trial Page 15
