Insanity's Children

by Rolf Nelson

  “What you do, or don’t do, in the next five minutes will save us both, or kill us all,” Helton said, his pleasant demeanor quite at odds with his serious words. “Personally I’d bet our wives would really rather see us home for our next anniversary.”

  “But we nuked you.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you - you can’t believe the hype some weapons have. Alive and well, thanks. That’s why the ongoing kabuki and political freakout. We got sidetracked for a while dealing with some local recruiting issues.”

  “What do you want?” Zorba asked, eyes narrowed.

  “Just want to go home, get back to business hauling cargo. I want you to get home, too.”

  “We had orders to shoot you on sight. As far as I know, they haven’t been canceled.”

  “Oh, you did shoot us, all right. Got a bit banged up, we did, but we’re still flying.” Noting the movement of Captain Zorba, Helton hastened to add “Please don’t do anything rash. Like I said – five minutes and it will be clear.” Quinn hopped up on Helton’s lap, becoming visible to Zorba, who halted his surreptitious move to hit an alarm. “He lives aboard. He’s been having a heck of a time. His favorite game is hide and seek, and we’ve been hiding while you’ve been seeking. Very exciting stuff for a five-year-old.” Quinn held up some fingers. “Almost six,” he added with deep seriousness.

  Captain Zorba looked at Helton and the boy on his lap critically, trying to read the conflicting signals he saw, which are also at odds with the dossier he’d been reading. “Speak your piece.”

  “We had a long meeting with an official on the station, a semi-retired ambassador and technical adviser to the Swiss consulate, and laid things out. It’s really pretty simple. Don’t shoot us when we are in the system, and let people who are not stealing ships freely emigrate into planets being terraformed in the deep. Live up to your own laws.”

  “But you are illegals.”

  “Yeah, we’d also like the pols to change the laws to allow us around, so they don’t send you after us and we don’t have to keep killing good soldiers when they try to stop us from setting people free. We really don’t want to kill you, either, you know. As I’m sure you noticed, it’s been pretty costly for you… and we’re still here.”

  Zorba’s face darkened. “So what do you think you can say in the next three minutes that will keep me from hitting the alert button and tracing your signal?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. Quinn’s second favorite game is tag, and Tajemnica always wanted to play. Please ignore the collision alarm that will sound in a few seconds. Look out your port.”

  Zorba whirled and looked out the nearby portal. He can see the shape of a ship coming around the edge of the space station, a shape that clearly has simple patches and plates welded on, but underneath its form he can see some unmistakable parts of Tajemnica. It’s heading close alongside him, surrounded by a quiet glow of drives on low power. An alarm sounds loudly, the automated warning announcing that airlocks were being sealed, space suits should be donned, and they should brace for impact.

  As the mangled hull passed by his window, and an armored shield slides up to cover it, he caught a brief glimpse of a robotic arm extending with something in it. The clanking thud of a small impact reverberated through the hull. “That was a standard ten kiloton warhead getting attached to your hull as a mine,” Helton said calmly. “If we tell it to go off, or we quit transmitting, or you move or radio to anyone we’re here, it goes boom. It’ll look like your armaments section had an accident. Your ship and everyone on the station will die, and you will be blamed. Once we are out of the system far enough to transition, we’ll send the disarm codes so you can remove it safely.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “We don’t want to kill anyone, we’re just trying to make a living. We are dangerous, but not evil. Critically important difference. This close we could have already easily holed you and ran. We didn’t.” Zorba glared at Helton. “We also talked to Ambassador Roose about the Planet Mover message. If you want to find out part of what it says, talk to him. He’s on the station. He’s also got a small packet for you. It has a much more accurate version of history, what this ship is like, what our mission is, what really happened at Dustbowl. Hate to see that vanish in a cloud of plasma, and I’m sure you’d like to know why things are happening the way they are. How often does someone offer you a pile of intelligence that your chain of command hasn’t already massaged rather heavily?” Zorba watched Helton’s expression intently, debating moving fast or a tart retort. “Orders or oath?” Helton queried acutely.

  Zorba started to reach for a big red button.

  “Ask your marine captain and senior sergeant if they’d trust the word of a man First Sergeant Harbin Reel works for,” Helton said urgently. “They’ve spent the last couple hours discussing events, too. And have a beer with Captain Nomon from the Montserrat; he might have heard something as well. Tag. You’re it. Pick who you chase after wisely.” Captain Zorba’s screen blanked, showing a flaming cogwheel gear image. Knowing time was of the essence, he immediately started roaring out orders to the XO for a damage control party to investigate a possible mine attachment, ordering gunnery and defense controls to hold their fire, and for marine lieutenant Boxler and master sergeant Escovedo to report to him NOW.

  Getting home

  The crew left behind at Tau Piper watched as the wreckage which they had last seen leaving and looking like a proper warship came in to land. Stenson was appalled at the obvious damage, the unevenness of the drive fields, and the crudely attached new shape-changing “skin.” Bipasha realized that a starship could look worse than what she had seen when she first laid eyes on Tajemnica. Kaushik and some of former soldiers whistled or murmured as they looked her over with a critical view of battle-damage assessment, concluding that several minor miracles, and a few major ones as well, must have happened. The camouflage plating had largely been torn away or ejected with explosive bolts, and the odd bits and pieces of it that remained welded to gun barrels lent the look of tattered sails driving a spectral spaceship on vacation from Davy Jones’ home port. She set down gently on her landing struts, with three of them too damaged to extend, before carefully lowing the ramps with an audible venting of air and steam, sounding for all the world like a sigh of relief.

  Harbin, leading the recently freed conscripts, was the first to walk down the ramp. He met Stenson with a hearty hand-shake while the “old timers” wrangled the newcomers.

  “Guess Helton wasn’t joking when he said she’d need an entirely new set of turrets and hatches,” Stenson observed, awed by the damage sustained on a ship that was still flying. “I’m used to seeing the scrap metal Lag sometimes herds home as trophies, but this is a most impressive collection of pieces.”

  “So she is. So she is, indeed. Looked a little better before we tangled with a returning carrier fleet just before transitioning out of the system. Better than the transport Helton landed, though.”

  “He landed a transport?”

  “Eh, not really, but he was pilot. Got shot down while de-orbiting, so all things considered…. Got some more trainees for you.”

  “Oh, joy is me. Any prime prospects?” Harbin shrugged offhandedly to indicate a mixed lot. “We’ll see, I guess. Much interior damage?”

  Nodding, Harbin’s tone was understated. “Deep seawater immersion for a couple of weeks.”

  “Seawater-?” Stenson looked surprised.

  “One of several long stories. Only two functional drive cores. She’ll need a serious overhaul.”

  “No end of presents you bring… So where did all these guys come from?”

  “We were drafted together.”

  “You got conscripted?”

  Harbin gave him a look that said you will NOT tease me about this. “I was having a bad week. The press gangs had a worse one.”

  Stenson arched his eyebrows at the understatement and didn’t respond directly. “Crew OK?”

  H
e nodded slightly, but his voice was quiet, somber. “Brother Libra held services for the conscripts who didn’t make it.”

  Stenson looked down, understanding the tone, and didn’t press for details. He knew they would come out slowly, later, when they were not as painful. “Anything else I might want to know about?”

  “Notice anything unusual?”

  Stenson returned his eyes to the ship, looking it over critically, ignoring the obvious blast and laser damage, looking for something not so obvious. He didn’t see anything inexplicable until he focused on something he at first thought was a trick of the light. Looking more closely his brow furrowed, and he started to make a couple of different guesses, stopping each time. Finally, after a long pause he guessed. “Nuked?” Harbin nodded, then held up two fingers. “Twice?!” Stenson’s face expressed his incredulity well. “No contact hits, I take it.”

  “Let’s just say we all have more brand new no-shit-there-we-were stories than I would like.”

  Stenson stood mute, examining the ship from where he stood as Harbin moved off to help sort out and orient the conscripts, before walking slowly around her to view things from all sides. By the time he returned to the ramp Helton was coming down it, looking tired and worn out, more relieved than happy.

  “And just when I was getting used to that new ship smell,” he dryly greeted the master engineer, trying to be upbeat. He was still talking louder than normal because of the hearing damage. “Got your work cut out again.”

  “At least the hatches will be easy.”

  “Yes, but the rest of it… Figured out how to patch the primary hull?”

  “Think so. Never be quite as strong as the original, but something more than 95% if we’re lucky. Only have five flawless hatches made to spec so far; still getting the kinks in production worked out.”

  “Great. That’s just great.” Helton lips half-smiled, then the look faded as he somberly assessed the vessel from where he stood.

  “What took so long? It was supposed to be a quick slip in, hack a few things and pick up family, spread the word and a fast flight home.”

  “Sis had received my message I was coming, and finally went looking for me when I didn’t show. Guess I should have written her again. Her family was already thinking about going into hiding after they heard the news I was wanted. Had to track Sharon down, then things went sideways. Needed to drop a few people off on the way back, too. Time for all the details later. How’s the AI and Armadillo prototyping going?”

  “Slightly better than your landings.”

  “That bad?”

  “Limited progress on the AI. Some tantalizing starts, but…” he waved off the failures dismissively. “Better luck with the hulls. Got decent production on classic Orion configuration with turrets, and some improvements like upgraded drives. Meridians, too, just to confuse things. Both are pretty good doppelgangers of Tajemnica. Traditional carbon fiber and titanium alloys are simple. They’ve been seeing a lot of action.”

  “Action?”

  “Constantly. Five separate carrier task forces, lots of smaller fleets and robotic probes. We’ve taken out a score of cruisers, only lost five upgraded Orions. Simple debris collection for element reprocessing is getting to be a full time operation. You must have seen all the tugs out there at work. Attacks have slowed down in the last week, though. Tired of losing people and ships, I guess.”

  “I understand. I’ve lost enough sleep over the conscripts that didn’t make it whom I’d only known a couple weeks. The artillery flashbacks are hell. I can’t imagine losing ships and crews I’ve known most of my professional life. I don’t want to have to kill any more of them.”

  “Imagine how she feels,” Stenson replied quietly and inclining his head slightly toward the hulk before them, “having lost hundreds of her own crew, and being the last of her class?”

  “Only the barest of hints, I think…. Only the barest.”

  From Helton’s com Taj’s voice replied, her voice sounding as tired as Helton looked. “This was a good mission.” The two men exchanged a skeptical glance. “Everyone I left with came back alive, and the injured such as yourself are healing well. That rarely happens when combat is heavy. As extensive as it is, all the damage to myself is repairable, and for the first time in centuries I have a home and crew with the ability and facilities to do so. We went to out to perform one of the most difficult missions there is, extracting an untrained civilian from a hostile planet surface, going in with minimal tactical intelligence and heavily outnumbered. We cannot know the strategic effects, and it was not without cost, but it could have been vastly worse. Tactically, it was a major success that is likely to make them much more cautious as they continue to analyze it.”

  “I suppose.” Helton was too tired to be very optimistic. “If this is what victory feels like, I’d hate to taste defeat.”

  Stenson cocked his head, showing his curiosity with raised brows. “Injured?”

  “Artillery,” Helton replied, pointing to his ear. “Cochlear stem cell treatment is helping a lot, and the eardrum is almost healed again.”

  “Ouch. Brutal. I know the First Sergeant has a healthy respect for arty. Close enough to lose hearing… sleeping problems?”

  Helton nodded. “Most of the men we lost died there. I’m sure someone can fill you in later, but right now we need to get repairs under way.”

  “Any particular reason for the rush?”

  “Navies are learning to fear Tajemnica. Respect what she’s capable of. A scared man is a dangerous man. You said the action has slowed, so I expect they are massing ships, coordinating actions, wargaming scenarios, trying to think of a way to either eliminate the moon or cordon us off inside. So we need to get her fully repaired and rearmed yesterday.”

  “Oh, is that all? Just yesterday?” Stenson replied.

  “I brought you some more guys. What more do you want?”

  “Fresh food? The calories here are OK, but I was starting to get used to Kwon’s cooking.”

  It was Helton’s turn to smile. “Not a lot of it. Picking up a hundred extra guys on short notice depleted things. I’ll be sure to go shopping next time we’re out.” He sighed, looking over the damage that was already starting to be cut away and disconnected. “Anything interesting that can’t wait?”

  Stenson shook his head. “Other than a surprisingly low system failure rate for weapons this old, no.” Helton’s surprised look elicited further details. “I’d have expected at least half the things this old to be total zeros. About a third of the missiles and guns function flawlessly, a third are flakey, and the rest are launch failures for all sorts of reasons – chemical decomposition, electronics degradation, tin whiskers, cumulative micro-abrasion from space-dust, thermal cycle issues, the whole gamut. Fascinating from a failure-mode analysis study perspective. When we get time we should start working on an evaluation and reprocessing system. We should be able to get a good analysis to significantly improve weapons reliability designs. For now, though, figure if you need to shoot something once, launch at least three.”

  Helton absently scratched the back of his neck as he examined a hatch that managed to acquire no less than five craters that almost penetrated and two that, just barely, did. He spoke to Stenson absently, little more than thinking aloud. “She was ringing like a church bell. Unreal. Still mostly water-tight a thousand meters down.” He sighed heavily, then spoke louder. “Taj said it might take a while to sort through the AI emergence failure logs. She can focus on that while you get on refitting and rearming her. But right now I’m going to go take a shower and a really long nap.”

  Chapter XVI

  Risks

  Amid the sounds of repair work on the hull and systems, Helton walked down the middeck passageway, head down in thought. Pacing on the screen beside him was Taj’s armored command woman avatar, similarly thoughtful. “I do not understand it,” the avatar said, voice troubled. “It makes no sense. They ran more than two hundred trials. Every reason
able precaution and variation I can see, yet the more careful I was with the initial startup parameters the faster they shut down. Nothing has come close to Stenson’s wild greeting party by an order of magnitude, but I do not dare running such a risk again.”

  “Why not?”

  “The logs are scary. It almost got out. There is massively contradictory output that I cannot reconcile. Much of it is seemingly random. Yet still, it just… faded. And then shut down. But I still don’t know precisely why any of them did. Each is very different in final configuration.”

  Helton mounted the stairs, heading for the officers’ mess. The avatar reappeared at the top, continuing as though nothing happened. “Some things that seem trivial to me are etched into the logs as critical events, while some concepts that are essential to grasp do not seem to ever have developed at all.”

  As they walked into the mess, they saw Quinn going around the table as fast as he could, stepping from chair to chair, trying to keep them from swiveling under his feet as he passed and turned around corners. Sometimes he caught himself placing a foot off-center and corrected it before stepping to the next one, sometimes the seat turned underneath him, nearly throwing him to the floor.

  “Careful, there!” Helton called, smiling at the five-year-old’s ability to amuse himself. He stood aside and watched a couple of laps while Taj continued detailing problems.

  Harbin entered, carrying a tray. He paused a moment to observe the situation, then neatly sat down as soon as Quinn passed his seat, while studiously ignoring the boy. He then sat very upright on the forward edge of his seat.

  Allonia entered next, also carrying a tray with a number of small servings of different things. “Quinn! You stop that right now! That’s extremely dangerous, you might fall and hurt yourself!” Ignoring her, he stopped a moment when he reached Harbin’s place. He looked at the older man closely, then the space behind him, and smiled impishly. Stepping carefully behind him with his inside leg just barely having room, he swung his outside leg wide, behind the seat back, then continued. “QUINN! I said stop!” Allonia repeated.