by Chris Hechtl
“Agreed. Okay. Anything I should know now?”
“Plenty, but nothing that is a priority. I believe the administration has a copy of the budget though, and I already incorporated the new antimatter and other charges into it,” the A.I. replied.
“Wonderful. So, it'll hit the Naval oversight committee and the budget committee Monday,” Admiral Lewis growled.
“Yes, but the news about the ansible will overshadow it. If worked properly it will get lost in the shuffle for a short time period.”
“Hopefully,” the admiral replied as his fingers continued to fly. “Okay, that's it,” he said after a moment.
“Very well.”
“Dismissed,” the admiral said absently as he finished his email. The A.I.'s avatar came to attention and then winked out.
(@)()(@)
President Camp grinned tiredly as he examined the speech. It was good. It hit the high notes, and Penny had kept it short and simple so it could be easily transmitted by audio. Good. He nodded. Most likely the next week's news cycle would be completely dominated by the report from Doctor Irons.
That was a good thing he thought as he noted the latest naval budget and glanced down to the numbers. They were going to need the distraction. He couldn't help but wince at the numbers, and the image of some people on the hill howling like gelded pigs over the money going down a black hole. A lot of the money was going to Lagroose Industries, something some people were muttering darkly about. He had to admit, the company had the biggest shipyard and the best workforce.
He checked the latest proposed ships and nodded. He'd been forced to do some horse trading with Spirit of the Confederation. It had hit a nerve in some people; they didn't like the idea of a Confederation. It smacked of the American civil war, or so they said. And the Asians had pitched a bit of a snit over not feeling any love for their various cultures either. So, he'd twisted Walter's arm a bit and sent Spirit off with Victory, Defiance, and Missouri to Second Fleet. That had freed up the Confederation flagship title to go to Guan Ju.
Horse trading was becoming something of second nature with him, the art of compromise. Find out what the other side wants and then negotiate from there. You couldn't make everyone happy, no one ever was, but they could find common ground somewhere.
He turned and looked at the numbers on the spreadsheet again. Well, almost everyone. He needed a thorough breakdown, and they needed to find ways to save some credits. Naval spending wasn't completely out of hand, but he'd heard plenty of mutterings about it over the past two years. If they didn't get a handle on it, then when the war ended the navy would suffer almost the same fate as the Space Marines had. He didn't want that to happen.
He couldn't let that happen.
(@)()(@)
Doctor Seanex Irons read the report and nodded to himself. He was proud of the success. Monday morning they were going to present it to the Confederation. It was one of the greatest achievements mankind had yet made, second only to starflight itself in his estimation. And he had been the one to shepherd the technology through the twisting R&D community and political minefields to see it get done.
He read the simple ansible report and grinned to himself; he couldn't help it. Doctor Bell's “Can you hear me now?” had resonated powerfully with him as he knew it would with the public at large. Doctor Bell's team had managed to get one muon out of ten thousand to survive the 3.4 light year journey and set up process on the other end in Proxima Centauri. The scientists and engineers on the team were considering it a success.
Personally, he deemed it as a mixed blessing even if it was, as he had just thought, a great achievement. Yes, they could now transmit information faster than light to another star system and get information back, but at a very slow speed in his eyes. It was a bit like the old Earth telegraph. They had to be careful not to try to talk at the same time, or they would destroy that one muon. He knew time would only improve the process, and time would help improve the survival of the number of muons that were transported. Until then there was no way they would go through the expense of trying to send an ansible link to the Rho sector.
Still, it was pretty damn cool, he thought as he looked out a window to see a herd of wooly mammoths ambling by the outside fence. A feather in his cap, one could say, he thought. He wanted to see the war through to its completion before he retired, but his job was wearing on him harshly. He frowned as he thought about ending his career in politics on a high note or seeing it through to the end. He had time he knew, plenty of time to make the decision. There would be a dog fight to replace him he knew, something he wasn't certain he wanted to inflict on the Confederation or his friends in the government and military at the time. But, it would be nice to get back into his own engineering and research projects. There was also a growing movement in some of the backrooms of the science and engineering community to create their own place. To create a think tank, a new Alexandria, a place where they could work without the politicians lording over them. Funding though … he frowned.
Hell, he knew they didn't even have a name for it. Eureka? He shook his head. There had been a town named Eureka in Earth's past, one for scientists and engineers on America's west coast. If he recalled right, it hadn't ended well. They might as well call it New Alexandria he thought as he decided to check on how things were going at Mars University.
(@)()(@)
Trevor Hillman watched the surgeons prep. The nurses seemed a bit anxious, but that was fine. They'd settle down shortly. He turned his head to look out the viewing window to see Casey's blurry form as well as a couple of the interns. He nodded slightly as she put a hand to the glass. Eventually though, he turned his head back to rest comfortably. The view sucked, a small corner of his mind thought; all he could see was equipment and ceiling tiles. He'd tell them, but he'd lost his voice.
If this worked he'd be the first to make the leap. They'd had minor successes, but it was time for someone else to step up. The doctors had given him a week; it was now or never. He watched the anesthesiologist begin the drip. He felt light-headed, then sleepy …
(@)()(@)
Doctor Irons worked his way through the various departments, saving the computer sciences for last. It was hard; every time he bumped into Trevor, it tore his heart out to see him like that. He decided to man up and get it over with, steeling himself to see the cyborg for potentially the last time.
So, it came as something of a surprise when he found Cassy leaning against a wall being comforted by an intern. “What's up?” Seanex asked warily.
“He's … gone,” the intern said, rubbing Casey's shoulders.
“I'm so sorry,” Seanex said softly, staring at Trevor's assistant. “I'm so, so sorry,” he said as he knelt down before the Neochimp.
“We won't know if it is a success for another twenty or so hours,” the intern said, rubbing the chimp gently as she sobbed into her hand.
Seanex looked up sharply. “Wait, what is it?” he demanded, eyes searching the young man's face.
“The procedure. He didn't have anything left to lose so he did it. He took the plunge. We just finished scanning the slices of his brain into the computer. The computers are reassembling them now. It's all in their hands,” the intern said, pointing to the lab behind them with a thumb over his shoulder.
“The procedure. I thought he didn't have permission? The subject had to be dead?”
“He had them put him under just after he started a script to shut his life support off. Once he was dead for a full minute, they … did it.”
“I see,” Seanex said. He knew there would be hell to pay in some circles, but he didn't care. That Trevor had gotten the chance to try, it was worth it in his eyes to bend a few rules.
Bend hell, break them into splinters. The man had that and more coming to him.
“Keep me posted,” Seanex said as he rose and hugged Cassy. He felt Cassy nod as they embraced. She clung to him for a moment, and then patted his hand and arm as she released him.
&nb
sp; “Come on. Let's get a cup of tea or hell, a beer and salute a good man,” the intern said roughly as he guided Cassy down the hall. Seanex watched them go for a long moment, then turned and opened the door to the lab.
He looked on to the computer screens, not really aware of what was going on. It took a bit to realize that some of the computers were stitching together slices of the man's brain. That was where some of the magic was; those connections were critical.
“Good luck Trev,” he murmured as he left the room.
(@)()(@)
Roman sat back and looked at his scotch and then to the news cast. Word was out about Trevor Hillman's death. He'd miss the guy. Other than Jack the old guard were dead now. Perhaps man was wrong to live so wrong? He wasn't certain. He did know it was hard to bury friends who he had thought of as family.
He turned to the view of Mars outside the window. He'd just so happen to have been on Mars for a look at a new battalion being stood up and for another ship commissioning ceremony when he'd gotten word of Trevor's passing. It hadn't taken long for the media vultures to get a hold of it.
“Sir, we're getting a call for you,” a yeoman said.
“Another well-wisher?” he demanded.
“It is from Mars University, sir.”
“Put it through,” he grumbled. “It's probably Seanex,” he said as a window opened on his main view screen. “Seanex?”
“Not exactly,” an artificial voice replied. “You have good security. Roman, but …,” his camera light turned on and the camera focused on him. “I wrote some of that code,” the voice replied.
“Trevor?” Roman whispered.
“In the virtual flesh, so to speak,” Trevor replied, putting up an image of himself on the screen. “I'm the first successful transcendence subject. At least the documented one,” the newly-born A.I. replied.
“Damn, buddy! Is it really you?” Roman demanded, rising from his seat as he set the scotch down.
“Yeah. I don't remember the actual shift, so don't bother asking. It is strange; there is a new clarity to my thoughts and memories. A few things are a bit hazy. I remember some things so vividly though! And I can now confirm that we do filter our memories. Strange,” he murmured huskily.
“So … now what?”
“What do you mean now what?” Trevor asked.
“Now what? What now?”
There was a pause. Trevor snorted. “To be honest, I never thought this far ahead. Just getting here seemed an impossible leap. I'm still exploring things. This new life for me, it will be a new adventure.”
“Good,” Roman replied with a nod. “Very good.”
“And no, before you ask I'm not interested in parking my virtual butt in one of your ships or instillations. I'll figure something out. Wow, I can tell you I can think faster … I'm now learning how to adjust my thought speed … wonderful thing there.” Trevor's avatar shook his head. “It's all new to me. To everyone. Cassy is beside herself.”
“Good,” Roman said simply.
“They really are putting on a show about my death?” Trevor asked.
Roman chuckled. “I suppose you'll have fun telling them the rumors of your death were exaggerated?” he asked.
“Well, not exactly. But it will be fun to come back from the dead. Except for the endless interview requests … maybe I should stay dead?” Trevor asked.
Roman couldn't help it. He felt his tension release as his chuckles turned to laughs. He flopped down into his chair, one hand going to cover his mouth as Trevor's image shook its head.
“Sure. I come back from the dead and you yuck it up. Some friend,” Trevor mock grumbled.
Chapter 28
B-92c hyperbridge picket
March 2242
On the morning of the second of March, a welcome surprise in the form of reinforcements arrived at the B-92C jump point. Vice Admiral Kepler was intensely gratified by the sight of the first Terran battleships. To score not one division but two was more than she'd hoped for she thought in self-honesty.
There were two dozen warships and another dozen support ships in the fleet train. The aforementioned four battleships had two full and two escort carriers, eight cruisers, and eight destroyers. There were five colliers, four dispatch ships, a tanker, and two repair ships in the fleet train to keep her own support ships company. They carried fresh orders redesignating her task force as the core of Second Fleet.
Three of the colliers were munitions colliers. Two were for the battle line, the third for the carriers. One of the other colliers was loaded down with replacement birds and pilots along with spare parts and upgrades to their existing craft. She wasn't certain about having a single collier carrying parts for the starships, but apparently, someone had been smart enough to send the repair ships, Artifex and Chabahan, along as well. They would join Cadmus. The repair ships could theoretically make replacement parts in the field, something she hoped to put to use soon.
As long as it was expanding her parts inventory and not making bush fixes for more repairs, she thought darkly. At least, not yet, she thought with a mental shake.
The one pair of things that Walt had overlooked in sending her was a hospital ship and troop transport. She could use both, but she was apparently supposed to make do without them.
Sol was finally going on the offense again she thought with approval. She regretted that they didn't have a proper Marine transport though. From the files she'd scanned briefly, a converted colony ship had been planned but then pulled back at the last minute. General Falcon had stayed onboard however, and he'd managed to stuff the larger ships and support vessels with his troops and as much gear as they could squeeze in. It wasn't enough to handle a planetary invasion, but it gave her some options she knew.
Jan noted her newest second-in-command, a familiar face in the form of Rear Admiral Seong-Jin Oh. He had been her flag captain on Argus and had done a good job there. It was a pity he was in charge of the cruisers and screen instead of the carriers, but apparently, he'd put in the request.
She also noted a few familiar faces in the list of officer names before she turned her attention to a series of orders from BUPERS. Just about all of her officers were receiving a promotion. The ship captains were becoming full commanders in the case of the destroyer captains, and the cruiser captains were becoming full captains. A few were even being frocked to commodore status, and BUPERS had an idea of shifting her personnel around. She didn't like that. She didn't like breaking up a ship's companies and making holes in her command structure.
She did appreciate replacement pilots however.
(@)()(@)
Captain Kirby Beaudry, former chief engineer of Argus shook his head as he got the order to oversee the logistics. It wasn't unexpected; he'd planned for it. He knew Jan Kepler, she was good at delegating. He'd taken that lesson to heart and did his best not to micromanage his own people as well.
He'd moved from engineering country in Argus and then a brief stint on Lexington before her deployment to be catapulted to the captain's seat of the mobile repair ship Artifex. He dived into the logistics right off on the first day, but then backed off once he was certain his people had enough directions to get the job done on their own. After that he kept tabs on the various ships and projects throughout the day while occasionally checking on the status of his own ship.
As senior officer of logistics he knew he would eventually be tapped to attend any meetings. He hated the damn dog and pony shows, to him they seemed like a waste of time, but he had learned to tolerate them over the years. Everyone needed to be on the same page after all, and that page was written at the top.
Besides, if he didn't attend some numskull would take his people for granted or think they can pull one too many rabbits out their hats. He had to be there to keep them honest.
(@)()(@)
Commander Adrienne Hatfield checked the latest draft of replacement pilots from their reinforcements. It'd be nice if she could be selfish and keep them all, but unfortu
nately the admiral had informed her that she had to share. Her lips quivered briefly before giving up on trying to smile.
No, she had to play nice and work with the other CAGS to see who got the best. They had been arguing for hours through emails as they poured over the various pilot's records. Understandably everyone wanted the best and brightest, and bad apples or marginal pilots weren't even second billing. There weren't a lot of bad apples, but if you read between the lines you could see where someone liked to hot dog it and was a discipline problem or where someone had poor performance in the hot seat.
Her wing had taken the most losses, so they had the most to gain. That was the theory, but she knew it was different than that. Sure, they got new replacement birds and pilots, but they were a new element to her existing wing. It would take time for them to integrate. Fortunately, it looked like they had the time.
Another problem was finding a way to balance the wings in the fleet. She was tempted to go back to Argus's wing structure, with one squadron of interceptors, one of general purpose fighters, and two of bombers. It wouldn't work though; the bombers were the true ship killers. She couldn't short them, not when there was so much pressure from the fighter community to actually score a battleship kill to prove their worth.
For the past few months, the CAGs had worked their people on drills. They hadn't wanted to be caught out by the Tauren fighters again. Unfortunately, since they couldn't put a lot of clock time on their birds, they were forced to load simulator packages into the ship's computers and run them that way. She made certain as senior CAG to have those simulator packages sent to the new carriers so they could work on training and getting up to speed as quickly as possible. She wrote a message to Commander Malone to have his wing simulate the enemy fighters and fight against them. That should keep things lively she mused.
As far as the replacements were concerned, well, she'd lost an entire squadron of bombers. She'd already organized the survivors into two bomber squadrons. Bringing in a homogeneous squadron would make more sense … except that the pilots were individuals from different carriers and carrier fortresses in Sol. She made a puttering sound for a moment, and then set up a matrix to look for pilots who had served together. It might get her closer to what she needed.
