The Return: The Conglomerate Trilogy (Volume 1)

by William S Frisbee Jr

  He saw the controls he wanted not far from the heat pump he was hiding behind, it was a plain looking purple box with a grate over it. Once he found it, he jammed a communication spike into the controller protruding from the side. It took a minute for the spike to integrate into the system and map so Luke took a spot and scanned the area. Nothing. Another warbot entered and searched for any surviving holdouts.

  Finally, the spike reported and told Luke where to place the other spike. Just a meter away, near the floor and a pipe which he did and waited some more. The spikes were specialized robots controlled by an NIW further back. They would use nanites to disassemble and integrate the controls, giving Luke and his NIW real control of the systems. While the Bronkaw commander could order a shutdown, it was unlikely. The Bronkaw commander would need the power for shields and weapons. Worst-case scenario Luke would take control and start it back up again.

  “Team Bravo-Two-Three-Three one requesting entry,” a warbot said. Bravo company, Luke noted. Gray wouldn’t be far away.

  “Lieutenant Puller requesting entry,” a voice said.

  “Acknowledged,” Luke said and the warbots and droid entered.

  ‘Lieutenant’ Puller was much more human like, dressed and armed like Luke, he could be mistaken as a human and he was the commander of Bravo company’s second platoon. In armor, he was identical to Luke, out of armor he was a green skinned android.

  More warbots poured in behind Puller, forming a protective cordon around Luke and continuing to search the rest of the engine room. The protective cordon would be Puller or Gray’s idea. It let Luke know he could no longer fight.

  Puller nodded to Luke as he directed his warbots to secure the room.

  “Override complete,” the spike and NIW reported.

  “We’re in,” Luke said to Nelson. “Patch me through to the Bronkaw commander.”

  “Acknowledged,” Nelson said.

  After a few seconds, the enemy commander came online. His words were translated and Luke had a heads-up display of other relevant data. A video stream was not considered worthwhile but Luke was prepared to fabricate one.

  “Who is this!?” an angry voice demanded. Luke watched a graph on his InnerBuddy display. The voice was stressed but not yet panicked. This was the first time Luke had tried to communicate with the Bronkaw, although they had been trying to communicate since the first shot was fired.

  “I will accept your surrender,” Luke said and played his ace. “If you don’t want to surrender, I will turn off the anti-matter containment.”

  “That would destroy you and all your robots!” the Bronkaw commander said.

  “I’m on the ship,” Luke lied, a strategic deception, “trust me, casualties won’t be anywhere near yours. The complement of a GRS-32 Battle Wagon is what? Three thousand? I can rebuild the bots. It works out for me. The Caleet will pay for any lost robots or androids.”

  “What are your conditions,” the Bronkaw commander asked, very intelligent and not given in to stupid bravado. The computer analysis of the commander’s voice reported defeat, defiance, and stress. Luke paused a few moments while comparing the baseline with what he knew of the Bronkaw. The Bronkaw was behaving as expected, and not like most of the human officers Luke had dealt with. Brave but not stupid or willing to take too many chances.

  “This battle wagon becomes human property and the Bronkaw Dominance ceases to interfere with the travel of Caleet merchant vessels in this system and adjacent systems. Your survivors may return to the Dominance unharmed. Caleet military vessels may still be attacked per the Shonfa treaty and the class two license to commit violence. Non-military vessels may not be targeted under any circumstances.”

  It was a fair deal. The Bronkaw military command would be pissed but maintaining a battle wagon, this far from the Dominance could not be cheap or easy. Losing three thousand warriors would devastate them politically. They would know he could have bargained for the dissolution of the Shonfa treaty which would set the Bronkaw back farther and leave them vulnerable to the Caleet merchant guilds.

  “If we don’t surrender?” the Bronkaw asked.

  “You die. No worry for me. My ‘Authorization of Hostilities’ allows me to pursue and kill Bronkaw wherever I find them. I will continue to do so. Surrendering and agreeing to my terms will invalidate my ‘Authorization of Hostilities’. Your choice.”

  It was not really a lie, but it was not the entire truth. The Authorization of Hostilities had no such clause and placed no limit. However, the stated intent was to allow the Caleet to travel and trade without threat of Bronkaw hostilities. The Caleet were traders, only dangerous when searching for bargains or trade advantages. While they were not pacifists, they were peaceful and did not care for violence. Humans? Not so much. The Caleet Council would not press continued hostilities against the Bronkaw if their needs had been met. They would accept Bronkaw hostilities against their military vessels without complaint. The Caleet military ships were focused on anti-piracy operations and they could outrun the Bronkaw. They were no threat to the Bronkaw and this solution would let the Bronkaw save face.

  Luke gave the Bronkaw a few minutes to think about it and had the second spike send a few pulses. The containment field faded a little. The Bronkaw commander would see those pulses, which would generate numerous alarms, and he would know Luke held all the cards. Luke was notified of an intercepted and canceled command to start an emergency shutdown.

  “Try again,” Luke said. “Time is running out. If you don’t answer soon I will assume the answer is no and proceed.”

  Luke had read enough of their history. There was no reason for them to die except pride, and that wasn’t as important to them as humans. They were not caught up in honor or arrogance. For dinosaurs, they were realistic and practical. The battle wagon was just money and resources, easily replaced. They valued lives more, something Luke wished more humans did.

  “We accept the conditions,” the Bronkaw commander said after the second emergency shutdown failed. “We surrender.”

  “Assault Wave Two has landed,” Nelson reported.

  “Surrender accepted. My warbots will now pull back to the power core while you evacuate your people. You fought well and bravely. I bear you no ill will,” Luke said. Well, except they had not killed him, but they had tried. He could not fault them. He wondered how many lovers, fathers, and mothers he had just killed. How many parents would weep for the loss of their children, how many children would grow up hating humans? The victory left a bad taste in Luke’s mouth. Killing was part of the job, it did not mean he enjoyed it, and now with the battle over it was time for the tears and heartache. Luke could not keep himself busy enough and he would have time to think. It did not matter the Bronkaw were aliens. Their culture valued the lives of their people and he had killed them. There would be no forgiveness asked or given.

  They had enough unarmed transports to evacuate to the nearest habitable planet where they could wait for the Dominance to come get them.

  Luke was done here. Another day, another mission survived.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Caleet Tabor

  “Prime Minister Mark Harrison will be unhappy. Again,” Nelson said when Luke came onto the Combat Information Center, or CIC, sometimes called the bridge. Nelson turned to look at him. Aside from Nelson the CIC was empty, controlled by several clusters of artificial intelligences embedded in the panels, consoles, floor and ceiling. The real navigation and controls were virtual and with proper network access could be managed from anywhere. The CIC had some manual controls, but it was the core of the ship where all the data and information was processed. During a security lock down the CIC was the only place the ship controls could be accessed.

  Luke moved to his command chair, racked his rifle, and clipped his helmet to the holder. With his hands now free he rubbed the short stubby hair on the side of his head. Special treatment kept the hair from growing and kept the pattern an Asian dragon. A small strip of longer hair on t
he top of his head, like a short mohawk provided padding inside his helmet. Luke found it relaxing to take off the helmet and massage his scalp after he had been wearing a helmet for over twenty-four hours.

  Luke sighed. “What’s new? There was no other way for it to work. They would have detected a powered-up droid. Even one on minimal power.”

  “You could have used a mechanical timer,” Nelson said.

  Luke looked at Nelson. Typical human like droid, with a shiny blue glint surface. Not a combat droid or warbot, but like a human in appearance, but not so close he could be mistaken as a real human up close. He was one of the sentient androids that had been with Luke for the longest. Nelson full name was Horatio Nelson after a famous admiral and Nelson was the commander of Luke’s tiny ‘fleet’. There were no other humans in the fleet, just the way Luke liked it. Droids were less complicated, judgmental, obedient and didn’t have emotional baggage.

  “I concur,” Gray said coming in behind Luke and still wearing his battle armor which had turned to parade colors, glossy black with red blood stripes on the arms and legs. The Bronkaw had surrendered before he had been engaged. He was like Nelson in basic form and design but with a green skin coloration to signify ground troops, a stockier appearance, and massive arms. “It was reckless. Borderline suicide. To quote a Marine of my time, ‘what’s your problem numb nuts?'”

  Luke gave Gray a deadpan look, but the droid didn’t care. He towered over Luke and out massed him. The theory was the sentient droids were subordinate to Luke and took his orders. Unfortunately, they had been with him for a long time and it did not work. They had learned more about him, and what he would tolerate, than anyone alive. They were his senior commanders, and they were also his best friends.

  “Don’t give me the whiny I’m lonely crap either,” Gray continued, it was an old argument and Gray was good at acting like a concerned senior officer. “There are plenty of nice women back at New Alamo. You are being an anti-social, suicidal asshole.”

  Looking between Nelson and Gray, Luke shrugged. Luke was glad Musashi was not there. Musashi was pissed because he could not join Luke in the first wave and now he was busy watching the Bronkaw, making sure they sabotaged nothing on their way out. The Leonis Ultio’s network intrusion AI was busy taking control and hardening the battle wagon’s systems. When it was done, it was unlikely there would be any nasty surprises left behind by the defeated Bronkaw.

  “Noted,” Luke said. They were allowed to criticize him, more entitled than any human since they had been with him for decades. They had been gifts to Luke from the Topa, and he viewed them as people, unlike many other humans. Their opinions mattered, except now, but unlike most humans, they knew when to argue and when to move on to another topic.

  “Caleet cruiser has just made transition,” Nelson reported. Nelson was melded to the ship and could manage it from anywhere. He did not have to sleep and all displays, sensor readings, and information were instantly available. He did not need view screens or controls. The bridge and Nelson’s presence were for Luke’s benefit. A cluster of artificial intelligences controlled the ship itself but it was subordinate to Nelson and there was nothing on or around the ship the android was not aware of. Nelson had his own InnerBuddy, but it was much more capable and extensive than Luke’s.

  “Hail them,” Luke replied. The Caleet had few dedicated warships for anti-piracy work in the “dark systems” where regular patrol vessels didn’t go. This was an anti-piracy ship, shaped like lumpy egg; it was colored black and covered with antenna and weapons. Not an aesthetically pleasing ship by any race’s standard, but it was designed for fighting, not making friends.

  The main screen lit up, and an overlay identified the Caleet officer Luke was facing. Previous contact information was also displayed and Luke scanned it. When Luke looked at the Caleet, he could only think of tall, scrawny, short furred panda bears with their large expressive eyes and black and white fur coloration. The rest of the bridge was blurred by the video software and prevented Luke from gaining any additional information about the Caleet bridge and conditions there.

  “My good friend Tabor!” Luke said with a smile. His words automatically translated.

  “You have control of the station?” Tabor said his large eyes wandering off screen, probably to receive a report from a bridge officer and most likely fearing a report of incoming missiles. Like Luke, Tabor spoke in his native language and the software translated everything.

  “You doubted me?” Luke asked with feigned hurt. The Caleet looked back at him and Luke watched his eyes twitch, probably reading text on his screen displaying information about Luke.

  He looked curious for a second then smiled. “Of course not, Commander,” Tabor said in a way Luke would call ‘tactfully’. “I knew you would clear this system. I simply expected more pieces, instead of what appears to be a functional battle wagon with what appears to be minimal damage.”

  Luke nodded. “I made a deal with the Bronkaw. They will cease to attack Caleet merchant vessels in this system or adjacent ones. Your trade routes are now open again.”

  Tabor bobbed his head. “I am impressed. The council will award you a bonus I’m sure. I will be extra wary when negotiating with you.”

  “Perhaps,” Luke said. “I could not get them to agree not to attack military vessels, however.”

  Tabor’s smile froze. It was a small thing but Tabor was in a military vessel and the majority of Caleet warships were weak compared to Dominance warships.

  “Is the battle wagon under Dominance control?” Tabor asked nervously. In minutes, he would be under its guns if it were. Flights of incoming missiles should show it was not, but then his sensors might not see them yet.

  “No,” Luke replied. “It is now human property.”

  Tabor froze again. Luke could almost see the wheels turning in Tabor’s head. This was a lucrative route for the Caleet. Tying several trade partners together. Anyone who controlled this route controlled prime access to Caleet worlds. The battle wagon was like a miniature battle station, able to control the immediate area and deny the free passage of fat slow merchant ships that lacked expensive and extensive point defenses against missiles. This system was 'dark' and not officially part of the Conglomerate so there were no patrol ships or anyone to enforce Conglomerate law.

  “I would ask the Caleet to take occupancy of the battle wagon, to restore it and lease it from New Alamo to safeguard the routes.”

  Tabor relaxed as he realized Luke did not intend to replace the Bronkaw in controlling this wormhole junction.

  “We will have to talk rates,” Tabor said and slipped into trader mode. “Repairing the battle wagon is likely to be an expensive and time-consuming task. Why would we do that for you?”

  “It’s not badly damaged, but if perhaps we can come up with something fair, it would benefit us both,” Luke said. “It would be expensive and time consuming to tow it back to New Alamo. I’m sure you could build a Caleet station here to protect your interests; we humans have no current interest in occupying this system. Do you think we should take control? We would have to find a way for it to generate income but I’m sure we would keep your trade route safe.”

  Luke could see Tabor doing the calculations. Building and transporting the massive armor plates, the weapons, the reactors and other equipment required. It would be momentous under taking and the Caleet did not have the facilities to build their own battle wagons.

  “If the fees are not too oppressive,” Tabor said. “We might come up with a deal. We will have to inspect it first.”

  Even if the fees were high, Luke knew they would take it. They would want to control the station and the juncture. The Bronkaw had taught them they couldn’t afford not to.

  Luke nodded. “Then I ask this of you. Occupy the battle wagon on my behalf until we can come to a deal, or have decided a deal is not worth our while. I will send negotiators from New Alamo. You may make repairs as needed and charge them back at standard rates.
The Bronkaw are leaving and will not be back soon.”

  Tabor nodded.

  “There is a destruct mechanism encoded into all the power cores now,” Luke continued. “I will keep the codes to insure the Bronkaw do not retake it.”

  What was not said, was the battle wagon would be destroyed if the Caleet did not return it, but Tabor would understand. The Caleet had good business sense and were unlikely to try anything underhanded if even the slightest measures were taken. As merchants, they had a guarded reputation for honesty. Luke doubted the Caleet would attempt, or even had the technology, to bypass his safeguards.

  “Understood,” Tabor said. “We will insure it stays safe.”

  “Thank you, friend,” Luke said.

  The connection closed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A New Mission

  “You led the infantry assault yourself,” Prime Minister Mark Harrison said his voice not doing a good job of concealing his anger. It was the tone of voice and controlled expression promising an explosion. Luke was ready for the Prime Minister to get loud.

  Luke looked at the Prime Minister, unimpressed. The Prime Minister appeared older, with short graying hair, a soft gray beard, and a mustache. He looked more like a kindly, unassuming gentleman more than anything else. That was a disguise. The Prime minister had a shrewd mind and was cautious but he made a good, if somewhat unoriginal, commanding officer. Prime Minister Harrison was about as old as Luke, but had been born on New Alamo, and preferred this appearance to that of a younger man. He was, if the truth were told, one of Luke’s closest friends, even though he was Luke’s official commanding officer and the acting Prime Minister of New Alamo.