Violetta kept silent and looked out the thick picture-window at the infinite fields of ice asteroids twinkling in the light of the Damir star, thoughtfully sipping wine and, finally, changed the topic:
"I see, brother. We'll leave Roben alone for now. But then, explain something else to me: the most important battle with the Orange House Head's United Fleet is still ahead. Every starship counts to you now, but you are loudly declaring to the whole Empire that you are preparing to assault the Alien-captured Nayal and Veyerde systems. That is a very dangerous and not at all timely thing to do! It can't be that your little doll Astra has grown so close to you that you'll put our shared victory at risk for the sake of her pretty eyes, right?! You know my negative opinion of your wife, but even I admit that Marta is a good politician and orator. She can turn any speech into a show in her own beloved name. But Astra then... You heard it yourself, Georg, the crap your favorite spouted when those journalists questioned her!"
In this regard, I had to agree with my sister. Princess Astra was obviously failing at playing the part of the brave warrior and wise Queen. The other thing was that some journalists were truly exceptional bastards and were openly provoking the stressed-out girl with the most uncomfortable questions imaginable:
"...Princess, why was your Highness naked at the moment of the alleged space battle in the Lobj system?
... Would you care to share a word with our electronic catalog Imperial Prostitutes Monthly on what it’s like to be a rich aristocrat's concubine?
... How did it come to be that an artist of your level doesn't even have a place of permanent residence and is running about the whole galaxy after her master like a lap dog?
... What would you consider a fair price for someone to pay you for another erotic dance?
... Do you still feel bitter about breaking the engagement with a member of the Green House?
... Have you ever seen real Alien ships? What? Can you really be sure that what you were seeing out the picture window were Aliens? So that means you have no way of really affirming to our channel that Crown Prince Georg has met even one time with Aliens?"
Astra answered, in her way, and tried to politely smile when answering even the trickiest and most acid-tongued questions, but from the first second it was very clear to me that the young girl had done a much better job playing the role of a silent charming companion to the Crown Prince than she was doing as an independent politician. I shook my head in reproach, thinking back on annoying moments in Astra's answers at the ceremony. Alright, if it happened, it happened...
"Whether you see it or not, Violetta, Astra has nothing to do with this. I'm here to fulfill a promise I once made to the Sector Seven Fleet Commander Marat ton Mesfelle. Also, in the last days, so much mud has been slung at me... What famous politician hasn't been trying to prove that I haven't yet seen an Alien in real life. That is precisely why I offered everyone who wishes to participate in a combined battle, to show in fact, that we can really fight. Some reporters have been invited to make their reports right from my flagship, so that no one in the Empire will have any doubt in the reality of the victories and trophies. If we do win, that will significantly reinforce our shared position. The Sector Seven systems will recall their deputies from the Orange House and come over to our side."
Violetta drained her glass in a gulp, placed it on the table and said with reproach.
"Brother, you have, of course, grown up a lot in a short amount of time. Your rise as a politician has also been impressive to watch. All the same, you're still making childish mistakes. You are forgetting about one important thing: it is forbidden by law to change the deputies of the Large Council of a Great House more often than once per year. Yes, you could convince the Sector Seven systems to come over to your side, right behind Sector Nine. Yes, the current Orange House head's enemies will have a majority at the next convention, and they may even raise the issue of voting to censure Duke Paolo. But you'll only be able to make a call to gather deputies five months from now, no earlier. Insofar as I understand, you don't have that kind of time, given that the Emperor has placed very harsh conditions on your ending the rift in the Orange House. As such, no matter how you might try to wriggle out of it, the only way left for you is to take down the Duke's united fleet. Can you do it?"
I drummed my fingers in thought on the malachite tabletop. There wasn't enough time for a diplomatic victory? What a shame... I guess I really will have to win in battle.
"According to the most recent data, the Duke's unified fleet has around two thousand, two hundred ships. I have five hundred starships in my fleet right now, plus Marat ton Mesfelle's reinforcements, which will arrive tomorrow. It's gonna be about four to one... It will be hard, but there is a chance for victory. All the same, I first have to take the Aliens out in Veyerde and Nayal. As for now I'm not even close to figuring out what kind of forces the enemy has concentrated there."
Violetta twisted the empty glass of wine in her fingers for a moment in thought, then said decisively.
"Ugh, no guts no glory! Give your green-haired favorite a gift from the Ice Princess: take my fleet with you for the attack on Veyerde! I cannot help you directly in battle with Duke Paolo. I'm sorry but, all the same, I officially offer to compensate any losses on your part in the battle with the Aliens with similar starships from my fleet. How else can I be of help?"
"Based on the information in the guide, there are one hundred thousand androids working in your ice processing factories. That means there must be a big robot service center somewhere in the system. I need to make a stop there today to fix my translator."
* * *
"This model is no longer under warranty. I'm afraid it would actually be against company rules for me to repair your android." The young service company technician threw up his hands apologetically.
"It seems like someone here isn’t understanding what I’m asking," I replied, not raising my voice and maintaining a calm exterior as I sat in an armchair in the guest hall. Nevertheless, all conversations in the nearby rooms stopped instantly. "I'm not interested in excuses. All I care about is how long it will take, and that it is done with flawless quality. The android must retain its personality in full and all of its memories. You will be awarded a bonus if you complete the work ahead of schedule."
"But I already told your Highness..." the technician began bleating back again, however the director of the service center office in the Damir system stopped his employee with a hand wave and picked up Bionica's head from the table delicately.
After examining the closed skull and bunch of cut wires and tube poking out of the throat, the man wondered:
"I can see that the robot's BIOS has been opened and re-flashed, but I'm gonna just pretend I didn't notice the missing screws. My only question is, how soon do you want it?"
"Today," I said in an even voice.
The man's eyebrows jumped up in surprise, but he kept control of his emotions. After looking with some sorrow at Bionica's head on the table, the director pointed toward the stand:
"I cannot guarantee that we will have the exact body model, 034-6781 is actually pretty out of date at this point. So, if you would like, you may choose a new appearance for your android."
New appearance? I was fine with Bionica exactly as she was when I picked her out. But, all the same, I walked up to the screen and carefully looked over thirty options currently on offer from the service company. Nothing was quite right...
"If you change that haircut and dye the hair, that one would look something like Bionica," noted Nicole, standing next to me.
"You think so? Look how wide those hips are. She looks to be a mother of eight."
The director hurried to intervene:
"There's no way to make her look exactly the same. Forget about the old body, Crown Prince. Choose the model that is most pleasing to your eye."
I took a skeptical look at the options on offer from the company. I think I found the one: a buxom red-head with the body of
an Amazon and a cute face.
"That's my choice. Bionica will be fire-red after her rebirth."
The director came right back to life:
"Nice choice. It's the newest model this year. Now my technicians need somewhere around five hours for data transfer, joint calibration, and operation system upgrade."
"I forbid you to make an upgrade. And any attempt to change or copy any information on crystal drives from my robot will end in the immediate death of the employee responsible. This is a nonstandard order, with unusual conditions, which is why I’m willing to pay a lot."
"But, your Highness, how can I guarantee the information transfer and correct functioning of the robot if God-knows-who has been digging around in her programs, changing God-knows-what. Certified versions of all programs must be installed. Our center simply does not work any other way!"
I frowned. They clearly had a problem understanding me well here.
"Call your company's central office! Yes, yes, the very same one, in Perimeter Sector Three, in Green House territory. Put me directly through to the director of your company. If you try to get out of it by saying that it's night on his planet, or any other excuses, you can tell him that Crown Prince Georg royl Inoky ton Mesfelle wishes to discuss the incident when tracking was used on his robot of your production."
Two minutes later, a middle-aged balding man, dressed in a very expensive suit appeared on screen. The stranger's face had a fake smile perched on it. Not even giving him time to orient himself, I got right to business:
"A bit less than four months ago, employees of my security service uncovered a channel from which I was being tracked. Me, an heir to the Imperial Throne! It was through the use of undocumented functions in my personal android translator. The tracking was traced back to two centers, but both were working through the same method of daily log transfers. I think you'll agree that it's an extremely unpleasant story, that could seriously harm your company's reputation."
"Yes, I know that story well, Prince Georg, and my company really is grateful to your Highness for keeping that unpleasant incident in confidence," he agreed.
"So then, I didn't raise a scandal at the time, but now I am expecting a gesture of good will from your company in return. The android spy issue was neutralized by my servants. To do that, they had to peck around in the settings a bit. But, in that I need information that is in the memory of that particular robot, I would like to transfer the contents of its memory crystals into a new, undamaged body, and in the very same, unchanged form with no modifications. But then I ran into the problem of your employees not really understanding how serious this situation is. They refuse to give me a similar looking robot, and they say they cannot transfer the android's conscience or memory."
"My servants were simply not informed of the true gravity of the situation, Crown Prince. Of course, though, we are prepared to make an exception to our strict rules for your Highness. Model 034-6781 was removed from production around a quarter century ago, however, since Bionica joining your Highness's retinue, and especially after the unheard-of event when the android was awarded a medal by the Emperor himself, our company has had a whole wave of orders for identical products, so a new production run has been started. We will send an absolutely identical copy of Bionica to any address you ask, and the memory and programs of your glorious translator will be transferred into it."
"Very well, send it to my palace on Unatari. But for now, I need a new temporary body for Bionica. The Veyerde system will be liberated from the Aliens, and I need my robot translator urgently."
"You can use any model you like, Crown Prince. I'll send a message to the dolts in the Damir service center that they are obliged to carry out your nonstandard order in full accordance with your wishes, or else they will have to start looking for new employment."
I smiled politely at him and said:
"It's very nice to work with your company. Excuse me, could I tack something on to the order? I need one hundred thousand laborer androids in one week."
"One hundred thousand?! Delivery to Unatari, as well?" he said, making no effort to hide his rapture.
"No. The destination for that order is the Veyerde system in Perimeter Sector Seven."
* * *
"Five Sledgehammers, eight Ascetics, four Hermits, and eleven Meteors. They are stationed seventy miles from the Nayal system," my spy from the cloaked frigate announced over the common channel, reaching all ships of the unified thousand-ship-strong armada, consisting of the Perimeter Sector Eight Fleet, the Perimeter Sector Seven Fleet, and other allied ships.
A general murmur was heard on the common channel. I could make out the word "sledgehammer" repeated in horror several times. The time had come for me to turn on the microphone and take the situation into my own hands:
"Attention all ships of the united fleet! Accelerate toward the Nayal system beacon! Sector Eight ships, set prewarp to two hundred fifty. All other ships are to set their warp tunnel settings to two thousand from the beacon. One minute to action. Nicole, countdown!"
"But Crown Prince, there are Sledgehammers there. We'll surely die!" someone's frightened voice rang out.
I looked demandingly at the communications officers and received an answer a few seconds later:
"That was the captain of Surgeon-66 from the Damir fleet..."
The officer's speech was interrupted by Admiral Kiro Sabuto's alarmed voice:
"My Prince, Surgeon-66 is accelerating on its own in the opposite direction of the fleet! He isn't going to Nayal, but preparing to return to the Damir system!"
What?! Well, that isn’t just the height of insubordination and cowardice? It was no longer of any importance to me who the captain of Surgeon-66 was, it could even have been the Emperor's own son. He was attempting to desert the fleet!
"Attention all ships, halt acceleration and countdown! Surgeon-66 is primary. I've marked it in the overview. Fire!"
There was a flash, and cloud of shards flew off in all directions, marking the now downed ship's former location. In the silence that eventually came over on the common fleet channel, I said clearly and decisively:
"The main thing holding humanity back in the fight with the Aliens is the cowardice of some captains and their disobeying orders from higher-ranked commanders. Several weeks ago, one of my frigates abandoned a combat assignment of their own will and left the battle. As a result, an Alien battleship got through to my starships. The fleet lost a quarter of its strength in that incident. Due to the cowardice of one, thousands died. The scars on my face and my right eye, which still can't quite see right are the most eloquent possible mementos of just how high a price allied cowardice can have. As such, it is better to execute cowards before the battle than have to deal with the consequences of them fleeing the battle later."
"Crown Prince Georg, what became of the coward that made the fleet suffer that time?" Came Marat ton Mesfelle, commander of the Sector Seven Fleet.
"He got very lucky. He died in the explosion of the Behemoth that he himself let get through to our ships. Such is the lot of all cowards. They never really had a chance of surviving in the first place, but unfortunately they find it necessary to take others down with them. As such, this is a message for all fleet crewmembers: if you notice anyone on your ship acting cowardly and not carrying out a commander's orders, shoot them immediately and do not hesitate. That is the best way out with the minimum number of victims. And so, the lyrical digression is over. Let's get back to the main mission. Is there anyone in the fleet who is still bleating in fear and pissing their pants from the word 'Sledgehammer?' No? Then let's start the acceleration toward the Nayal beacon again. Nicole, countdown, sixty seconds. Marat ton Mesfelle, choose five ships in your fleet to make sure your captains are following orders. If anyone doesn't jump right into battle in sixty seconds, they will share Surgeon-66's fate."
Global standing decrease. Current value -34
Standing change. Empire Military faction opinion of you has i
mproved.
Presumed personal opinion of you: +21 (warm)
"Ten seconds. Nine. Upon arrival, everyone turn on tactical map immediately, and wait for my command. Three. Two. WARP!!!"
The world grew dim as usual and rolled up into a tunnel. There was another four hours before the battle, so I stood from my seat, preparing to go get some rest in my bunk. However, my attention was caught by a sound in the corridor. There was a sentry trying not to let a girl with fire-red hair enter the fleet headquarters. She was wearing an ultramarine dress and high-heeled shoes. It even took me a few seconds to realize who the unfamiliar girl in civilian clothes, who had shown up on a military starship was, before I remembered Bionica's new body. I could hardly tell them a story about new crewmembers now.
"Let her in!" I ordered, and the girl came into the headquarters.
"Crown Prince Georg, Popori de Cacha has finished looking over my new body. He has given permission for me to continue work..." the red-headed beauty's voice was unfamiliar, and she was seriously delaying the end of the sentence after having seen the Arite in the form of the light-haired Bionica in her place.
"Excellent, Bionica. You may return to your normal work. Only Popori de Cacha is no longer a 'he,' but a 'she.' The Chameleon changed gender while you were absent."
Popori de Cacha, who appeared at that moment, stretched out her hand with a packet of documents for the new Bionica and reported:
"A full check has been made. No undocumented changes to the model detected. The memory blocks are sealed. Checksums for all files are unchanged. By the way, here are your things back, Bionica!" with these words, the head of my guard handed the synthetic girl a gold medallion on a chain and an Emerald Star.
Beyond Death (Perimeter Defense Book #2) Page 28
