“But, Sir, I wasn’t done!” exclaimed the Senior Commodore.
I looked at him like he was a bug smeared across the window. Was every single member of the Sector Guard determined to cause trouble and undermine me to their maximum ability?
Gants stepped forward and growled, “When the Admiral says you’re done you’re done.”
“I wasn’t speaking with you, Lieutenant,” snapped the Commodore.
“No, you were speaking with me, and I thanked you and began to speak before you interrupted me. You’ve had the chance to have your say and now you can either listen to my response or escort yourself down to the brig for a short stay in their fine accommodations,” I said calmly.
“Sorry, Sir,” the Senior Commodore said, his eyes shooting fire, “baffle us with your brilliance. I wait with bated breath.”
“No brilliance. Only dogged and relentless determination to stop these invaders—the same determination that defeated bugs, pirates, stopped a droid invasion cold in its tracks, even at the cost of upsetting the very people we saved, and which also defeated the Reclamation Fleet, Commodore,” I informed him flatly and then turned to the rest of the room visibly dismissing the other man. “I don’t care who I upset or how badly they don’t like it when I crush our enemies, drive them away, and leave our own people firmly back in control of their destinies afterwards.”
As the Commodore fumed powerlessly I began to speak.
“Now, as I was saying before I was interrupted: the enemy thinks he has us where he wants us. Harried, distracted, off pace, enraged by the loss of two Core Worlds, one of them still in the hands of the enemy fleet, and I could go on and on in the same line but I’m not,” I said, sweeping the room with my gaze. “Instead I’m here to tell you that nothing could be further from the truth. As far as I’m concerned, the enemy can pick any place they want for a fight and outside of a black hole, where we’ll both end up compressed down into something the size of a pin and thus dead, we can meet and beat them. Victory is not assured, nothing is certain when it comes to war, however we are not without our surprises.”
Ears pricked up around the room and I could see people who had drawn back lean forward.
“It won’t be easy. It won’t be smooth. But while I can’t share the detail with you at this time, for operational security reasons, I can say without a doubt that we now have a path to victory. We can...no, we will win this. Never doubt for an instant,” I said forcefully.
“Have we received—or, even, are we about to receive—significant reinforcements from outside the Sector?” the Senior Commodore asked as even he appeared to perk up at the thought of winning this war.
“The exact details of our order of battle are classified above your level, Commodore,” I said confidently, “what isn’t is that we are about to show the Empire the folly of invading Confederation space.”
“That’s not good enough,” the Senior Commodore said flatly.
“That sounded suspiciously like a junior officer telling the Admiral of this Fleet what to do. Now, because I know that wasn’t your intention, I’m going to let it slide. This time,” I said with a pleasant smile. “However if there is a repeat occurrence it will be your last. Am I clear?” I asked, allowing only my eyes to harden through my otherwise pleasant expression.
The Senior Commodore hesitated. “Crystal, Sir,” he finally said while stiffening.
“Good. Now before any of you think that I’m avoiding this answer because, well, there aren’t any reinforcements let me assure you. There will be significantly more space capable vessels, weapons platforms and space capable fighters than just what’s in our fleet available to us,” I swept the room with my gaze even as I kept speaking, “the timing will be tricky and the main fleet, that’s us, will need to face the enemy head on long enough to tie them down and hold them in place but after that… Let’s just say at that point we’ll be giving the Empire a battle they’ll never forget. This will be one for the history books.”
I silently added that it would likely be for war crimes violations—the biological warfare statutes in particular—but so long as it ended with a free Spine, I was willing to shoulder it. Besides, it wasn’t like I was planning on launching canisters filled with nerve gas or missiles with highly toxic chemical warheads into cold space.
No, what I was contemplating was nothing like that...and at the same time so much worse.
“So you have a secret plan and you brought us all here just to tell us that you can’t tell us about it. Do I have that about right?” asked a grim-faced Captain, another one of the Sector guard contingent I noted.
“I would think my history speaks for itself,” I replied evenly, “but no I didn’t call you here to tell you that. In fact I thought I was very clear when I said this fleet was now ready to attack the enemy in any star system they would stay in long enough for us to pound them. But perhaps they do things differently in the Guard when an Admiral says get ready for the fight of your life?”
“How dare you impugn the honor of the Guard!” he cried.
“I know any number of brave guardsmen willing to put themselves to the hazard,” I instantly rebuked, “who are you to put words in my mouth?”
The captain started to open his mouth for an angry retort and was grabbed onto by his fellow officers and forcibly pulled back into his seat.
“Regardless of the rest of it all, I have one more thing to say. For those of you who are new to this fleet this might not have as much meaning as it will for the rest of you, however I still have one more thing to add,” I said with a smile.
“And what might that be, Sir?” asked a Captain from the newly-arrived five Battleship Aegis formation, looking only as haggard as a man whose fleet had been beaten and whose home world had been occupied right before his very eyes.
“Just that Commander Spalding is intimately involved in this new plan to contain and destroy the Imperial threat,” I said confidently.
From the sudden gleam in the eyes of my veterans, I could see that they—at least—immediately believed something more was up than simply their Admiral trying to blow sunshine up their ears.
Chapter 40: One Small Hang Up
“Just what do you mean the cargo isn’t ready to be moved?” Spalding demanded, jaw jutting out as he marched right up into the face of the metal machine in front of him. Which, thanks to his long metal legs, he was more than capable of.
“As previously stated, the cargo cannot be moved at this time without catastrophic consequences,” stated the Droid.
“Look, I came down here personally so that we could fix this little problem, not so as you could give me the runaround,” Spalding growled.
“One thing I have never understood is your biological need for ‘face-to-face conversations,” stated the Droid, his 'expression' beyond impassive as it literally lacked facial movement capabilities, “oh I’ve read the papers and assimilated the data in the scientific studies on the hardwired phenomena, but it still makes little sense to me as the necessity. Regardless, the situation is exactly as I stated over the com-channel.”
“Don’t understand the need for face to face communications?! Why, how else would anything get done?” Spalding demanded.
“Your data does not compute,” stated the Droid.
“Look…what’s your name anyway?” asked Spalding, placing a hand on the Droid’s shoulder.
The Droid looked at the hand on its chassis and then back up at the Chief Engineer, an almost palpable disgust emanating from it.
“I am designated Mad Scientist Omega 9 and I require the removal of your biological appendages from my personal unit as an immediate precondition to any continued data exchange,” the droid stated in a highly digitized voice.
“That name explains a lot. Look, didn’t mean to get your knickers in a bunch,” Spalding apologized, removing his hand, “lots of sentients have unreasonable phobias about interacting with radically different life forms.”
The Droid looked at h
im sharply. “I have no phobias and certainly no unthinking one’s. My every action proceeds from a well thought out position. Irrational beliefs and actions are the province of deeply flawed, analytic-based life forms like yourself—not those of highly logical beings such as myself,” snapped the Droid.
“Of course you don’t,” Spalding soothed, “I’m sure you defrag your hard drives on a daily basis and upload patches as soon as they’ve been well tested and verified first. However, all of this is side business, Mad Scientist.”
“I can agree that your apparently species-wide irrational belief systems, and the urge to project them onto every sentient you encounter, are not worth two micro-seconds of my processor time,” said Mad Scientist Omega 9.
“Species-wide irrational beliefs? What exactly are you trying to say here,” Spalding growled, jaw jutting back out, “look, I didn’t come to this house of horrors for my health. I came here to get a job done and that’s exactly what I mean to do.”
“I mean that due to an almost complete lack of evidence-based research I consider much of the Humanities to be entirely worthless. Psychology for instance consists of almost nothing but speculation and fuzzy logic resulting in untested drivel requiring a series of almost continuous positive reinforcement, along with a deep aversion to relaying anything even remotely resembling realistic assessments to its test subject, and yet such subjects are required to actually pay for these unrealistic assessments of their mental degradation?” the Droid hissed.
“What is this malarkey? I mean I have no use for head shrinkers myself, don’t get me wrong, but you’ve gone completely off the bend here. I’m here to talk transport not rag on the head shrinkers,” Spalding advised, “besides, you can’t deny the results of enhanced chemical interrogation when combined with modern brain scanning.”
“I’ll concede the ability to completely destroy your test subjects mental acuity through the repeated use of certain adverse stimuli has been sufficiently proven,” the Droid conceded, “however, anything else is worrisome at best. Frankly when you look at its stated purpose, which is to aid and assist the sentients who use it for self-diagnostic purposes it proves worth or lack their of, psychology fails in epic fashion. You do realize that the founding father of psychology himself, while advocating loudly for the strict use of the scientific method, almost completely failed to use any such methods during his lifetime? And that this is the foundation upon which the rest of the discipline is based?”
“I’m not here to defend psychology,” Spalding said angrily, “let’s get back to the subject at hand. Get your cargo ready to move or I’ll move it for you. I don’t need any more excursions into la-la-land thank you and good night.”
“No! You aren’t and that’s exactly the point. No one outside of the study of this discipline and a host of individuals with self-admittedly damaged processors supports the humanities!” Mad Scientist raged. “In fact I find it a stain upon the self-consciousness of your species, second only to the completely irrational need to believe in religion and the supernatural—or even create such irrationalities when none such exists!”
The Chief Engineer was done being lectured to by a mechanical egg head that had a problem with dealing with reality and the subject at hand in favor of airing out its own series of pet peeves and electronic prejudices.
“Either start saying something I want to hear or this is going to get ugly,” he warned, once again reaching out and grabbing the Droid by the shoulder with one hand while taking hold of the plasma torch in the other.
“If you continue in your attempts at false imprisonment I will call security,” snapped Mad Scientist Omega 9.
“Well then get them down here already! At least maybe then I could start getting some answers instead of bigoted anti-humanist drivel,” exploded Spalding.
“I, sir, am no bigot!” snarled Mad Scientist.
“I may hate doctors and head shrinkers more than anyone I know but even I can recognize prejudice when I see it. Now! When are we going to be able to get this show on the road—and no more stalling with your drivel,” ordered Commander Spalding.
“Who knows? The data points are still being collected. Not that I expect a simple minded biological like yourself to understand the need for more information before proceeding to make assessments,” shot back Mad Scientist.
“Listen here, you bucket of bolts, I don’t know what your problem is but in case you hadn’t noticed there’s a war on. So while you keep gathering your data, I’m going to set up my spindles and begin the countdown to annihilation,” said Spalding said, turning on his heels and stalking away.
“Annihilation! Even a biological like you can’t be so simple minded as to destroy our entire experiment out of spite!” Mad Scientist Omega 9 said, shooting forward to catch up with the Chief Engineer, “you can insult me all you like but do not attempt to destroy this experiment out of a spiteful inability to understand the ramification of—”
“I’m not destroying anything, it’s a figure of speech,” said Spalding.
“Oh, excellent. In that case you can leave,” said Mad Scientist, losing interest in the old engineer and turning away.
“What I am going to do is get ready to jump this mess as soon as my spindles are recharged,” said Spalding, continuing on his own way.
“Stop, you imbecile, before you ruin everything!” cried the Droid.
“I’m done with you,” Spalding said, shaking his head.
“You don’t understand,” the Droid declared, using its manipulators to grab Spalding’s arm, “we are dealing with an incredibly sophisticated biological system here. One that has been weaponized to an incredibly lethal degree...for a biological entity,” that last was added in an almost sneering tone, “regardless, the slightest flaw in our suppression system and the genetically-engineered constructs will awaken to wreak havoc on a scale unimaginable to your pea sized brain!”
“Listen to me, Droid: I know Bugs when I see them, so you can keep dancing around calling them 'genetic experiments' but I’ve dealt with them before and I know exactly what they can do. So help explain the problem or get out of the way and we’ll take it from here,” he retorted.
“I’ve already explained the problem,” the Droid all but shrieked, “we need more data points or the enzyme we’re distributing throughout their larger biomass constructs won’t be enough to keep them in a torpor during a point transfer.”
“You mean their ships will wake up?” asked the Chief Engineer.
“Finally you begin to comprehend the gravity of what you are contemplating,” said the Droid.
“So just pump up the volume and let it settle down again after the jump,” Spalding scowled.
“Too much is as bad as too little. Too little and they wake up ready to kill, too much and the smaller worker constructs begin to die off, the larger constructs notice and begin to wake up in a rage state ready to destroy anything and everything around them including the other large biological constructs from the same hive structure,” said the Droid.
“You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. We have got to get within one jump range of our fleet and stay inside that range, no matter what it takes,” Spalding warned.
“Not if it will destroy 30-40% of the payload and send the remaining 60% into a hibernation state; we won’t be able to wake them up from for weeks,” argued the Droid.
“Then you’d better figure out how to get your dosage right,” said Spalding.
“Which is what I’ve been trying to tell you by way of com-channels, but for some reason you insisted on hearing ‘face-to-face’,” snapped the Droid.
“Like I said: you have until our jump spindles charge up to figure out how to keep those Bugs asleep,” said Spalding.
The droid glared at him. “You’ll kill us all,” it informed him.
“What you don’t seem to understand is that using the spindles isn’t like any other kind of jump, and those spindles are the only thing big enough to move what
you’ve been playing around with. The ride is completely different so even if you had time to fine tune your dosages I don’t know if it would matter. That being the case, we’re going with my plan,” said the old engineer.
“I protest these strong arm tactics in the strongest terms. I was given full authority over this project by the United Sentients Assembly itself!” whistled the Droid.
“Yeah, well, the USA works for the Confederation now, more specifically they work for the Little Admiral and Tracto and that means you work for us and we’re calling in your markers,” Spalding said, jerking himself free from the droid and returning to his shuttle.
“How am I supposed to work like this?” demanded Mad Scientist beeping and whistling furiously. “I was promised complete control over this project.”
“If you need more data I suggest you get working fast because we don’t have a lot of time,” said the Engineer, “there’s war to win and you can’t win without taking a few risks.”
The shuttle doors closed shut behind him, cutting off the irate droid as it followed.
On the way back to the Lucky Clover, the old engineer used the shuttles sensors to take another good look at the small armada of Bug ships the Droids had assembled in this uninhabited star system.
A broken and utterly devastated moon gave evidence to the large amount of bio-mass the droids had used in their science project.
There are only six of them, but six is more than enough, the old Engineer thought grimly as he passed one 1800 meter bug mothership after another 2500 meter after yet another over two thousand meter long creation of Bug flesh.
“Isn’t that something else, Sir?” the shuttle pilot asked, his eyes kept continually moving over to look at the giant bio-ships off their starboard bow before jerking back to his screen.
Spalding’s brows beetled and he laid a thick fingered hand on the other man’s shoulder.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” he agreed morosely and then his voice turned gruff, “we weren’t blasting those infernal things on sight! A man ought to be turning those creatures into crispy critters, not hauling them around the galaxy like they were checked into some kind of traveling roach coach motel.”
Admiral's Nemesis Part II Page 44
