Warlord 2: The Nobility

by CJ Williams

  “Course set. Estimated time of arrival, three weeks.”

  Carrie was leaving Nobility space. On her galactic map, what lay ahead was all Bakkui territory. She wondered what she would find on the newly human-populated world. Once they were on the way, Carrie prepared a long message for Luke and sent it off. Accomplishing the task made her feel better. At long last, she had completed Step One of her mission.

  Chapter 11 – Jontu Four

  Carrie settled into the pilot’s seat and put Teeny Jim on the front console so he could keep watch. “Three days so far, TJ,” she said to the alien teddy bear. “This is the best part of the trip; you’ll see.”

  By the third day of any long voyage Carrie inevitably fell into a comfortable routine. The strange noises of solo spaceflight faded into the background, leaving only peaceful solitude comparable to that of a sailor alone at sea.

  It was a period for reflection and cups of hot coffee. And maybe a biscotti? No, rather than giving in too easily, she would be better off with a little exercise. For Carrie, the real danger of a long voyage was sloth. It was the only time that she admitted to herself that at heart, she was a lazy soul.

  “You’ve got the con, TJ,” Carrie said, officially transferring control to the stuffed animal. She walked back to her kitchen and ordered a skinny mocha with whipped cream. This is what I needed, she decided. That and—

  “Warning, Teeny Jim!” Booker’s sharp voice cried. “Collision imminent. Prepare for impact!”

  “What?” Carrie ran to the cockpit just in time to see a flash of light a thousand feet away, to the left of the nose. It was a sight she had seen a hundred times before. A chunk of rock, smashed into microscopic dust by the extended shields.

  “Booker! What was that all about?” Carrie demanded. “Were you referring to that asteroid?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “You scared me to death!”

  “I’m sorry, big sister. Standing Order 287 states that I must inform the officer on duty of all potential collisions. Teeny Jim is registered in my programming as essential crew and I noted that you transferred control to him three minutes ago.”

  “Standing orders?” She recalled that George had occasionally mentioned standing orders. “Can you cancel that one?”

  “If you so wish,” Booker replied. “But canceling a standing order could have dire consequences. The origin of any given standing order is often rooted in grim events.”

  That made sense. It would be like taking an irritating subroutine out of a giant software package without troubleshooting. There was no telling how it might break the entire program.

  “All right.” Carrie sighed. “Let’s try this, then. Modify Order 287 so that if you determine there will be no consequence to the function of the ship, you don’t have to warn anyone, especially me if I’m sleeping. If it is a factor, let me know a little less dramatically. Okay?”

  “Adjustment programmed,” Booker said.

  Carrie thought about it. “How many standing orders are there?”

  “Seventeen thousand four hundred and eighty-three. Do you wish to make additional modifications?”

  Carrie shied from the suggestion. “No, thanks, Booker. Let’s leave well enough alone.”

  She let her gaze linger on the space ahead and flinched when a much larger asteroid glanced against the forward shield, turning into a blinding flash of superheated dust and light.

  “Enjoy your coffee, big sister,” Booker said placidly, not even mentioning the spectacular event. The change in programming was already in effect.

  Carrie’s interest in her peaceful coffee had passed. She settled back in the pilot’s seat. “Tell me about Jontu Four, Booker. What information do you have on system M87?”

  *.*.*.*

  The Jontu system was like many others that Carrie had seen. This one had only a single gas giant. That was a bit unusual in itself, but this one also had rings, albeit a very simple array.

  Also, a little out of the ordinary, there were more planets closer to its sun. There were six in the same space as the first four of Earth’s solar system. The innermost three were uninhabitable, but the rest supported human life after a fashion. Jontu Four was in the proverbial Goldilocks Zone.

  Rather than enter the solar system in the same orbital plane as the planets, Carrie ordered Booker to approach from above. At a distance of ten astronomical units, essentially the same as Saturn from her own sun, Carrie established a holding point perpendicular to Jontu Four’s path around its sun. Booker’s stealth technology kept them invisible to the ongoing traffic.

  “Booker, I want you to scan all communication frequencies common to this system and identify the ones used by Jontu Four approach control.”

  “Understood.”

  “Once you have that, we’ll sit here for a couple of days and listen.”

  “To what purpose?” Booker asked.

  “According to Princess Gimi, this is a Second Family system. I’m a little afraid of just breezing in and asking for permission to land. First, I want to see what kind of traffic they get and find out what the normal procedures. Are we going to stand out, or is a ship like ours simply business as usual?”

  “Very well,” Booker said. “I have identified the desired frequency.”

  “Can you pipe it over our speaker system?”

  “Of course.”

  An array of new voices filled Carrie’s yacht

  “…of two hours. The admiral will be expecting you.”

  “Acknowledged, Orbital Command.”

  “Twenty-Seven Fleet, did you copy?”

  “Twenty-Seven here. Did you call, sir?”

  “Twenty-Seven Fleet. Report crossing the beacon. You are cleared to enter atmosphere for landing at Kkoli Spaceport.”

  “Copy, cleared for atmosphere. Twenty-Seven flight, take spacing.”

  “Twop.”

  “Threep.”

  “Fooour,” a deeper voice drawled.

  “Twenty-Seven, did you copy? Report crossing the beacon!”

  “Orbital Command, this is Freighter98363 out of Bonbu, entering orbit at Poeye Point, requesting atmosphere clearance for landing at Gwedo.”

  “Twenty-Seven flight, push Kkoli Tower on button two.”

  “Twop.”

  “Threep.”

  “Fooour.”

  “Twenty-Seven Fleet! Are you on this frequency?”

  “Orbit, this is Treader57 for Bonbu. Switching over to Departure. Thanks for your help and good day!”

  Sounds like a busy place, Carrie thought. Throughout the day, she sorted out the voices and procedures. By late evening Booker understood the identification codes, projected locations, and ship types for the various arrivals and departures. He projected a schematic on the cargo bay viewscreen.

  *.*.*.*

  After another day of studying local procedures, in some cases all the way through landing and ground processing, Carrie was ready to proceed. Before setting out, she recorded another long message to Commander Blackburn, filling him in as much as she could.

  Most importantly, she told him about Bonbu.

  “It sounds like the planet we’re looking for,” Carrie said to the recording. “My current location, system M87, is definitely a staging center. The local name is Jontu Four. The amount of cargo traffic is hard to describe. They have freighter convoys coming in day and night.

  “The cargo is transferred to the military and goes on to a system they call Bonbu; our grid reference would be M72. There’s not a lot of chatter here; radio discipline is pretty good. But when it does leak out, I can tell that Bonbu is different.

  “For one thing, Bonbu Two was the original homeworld of the Second Family. It fits that Kkoli might resurrect it if he made a deal with the Bakkui.

  “The planet is run by an administrator, which is another word for AI. What’s interesting is that almost all of these military guys are afraid of this particular AI. That’s what makes me wonder if this is the source. I know this
is sketchy, but it’s all I’ve got so far.

  “I’m going to fall in with one of the smaller tramp convoys. The little guys congregate for self-protection. I’ll see what I can learn on the surface and update you in a few days. Exact coordinates for all this are in the attached data files.”

  Carrie mentally reviewed everything she had said. There was one more thing to add. “Sadie, quit hiding things from Commander Blackburn. I don’t care what King Peyha told you. Not knowing all the details has only hurt us. If there are any more secrets you never shared, I order you to tell Luke what you know; all of it. And just so you know, Gimi agrees with me. She said you were the dumbest AI she ever met.” That part was untrue but Carrie felt better for venting.

  Her main hope was to prevent anymore unwelcome surprises. Why didn’t people think before they decided to keep a secret?

  “Booker, give me two message drones with all that, and also two micro-reconnaissance drones programmed for Bonbu Two. Let’s launch those today in case we get tied up down below. Might help later once we get there.”

  “Acknowledged, big sister.”

  “And would you quit calling me big sister? Just Carrie would suit me very well.”

  “Acknowledged…Carrie.”

  Now he sounds like his feelings are hurt, she thought. Even with his personality turned off, the little spaceship periodically managed to make her feel guilty. She needed to leave well enough alone with Booker. With all the reprogramming she and Gimi had done, it was amazing he wasn’t schizoid by now.

  She took the two mini-message drones from the replicator. When the cargo doors opened, she flung them out into space. Those were followed by the larger recce probes, one at a time.

  “Good job, Booker. Close all the doors and let’s find one of the tramp convoys. And you can call me big sister if you want.”

  “Acknowledged, big sister. Course set.”

  He sounds a little smug now. Carrie wondered if she was losing her mind again.

  *.*.*.*

  “Potential target identified,” Booker said.

  Carrie and Booker were a thousand astronomical units from the Jontu sun and accelerating.

  “You think we can slip in at the back of the convoy?” Carrie asked.

  “Affirmative. The smaller collectives are very informal. We’ve watched a variety of vessels join and depart similar groups without communicating to other craft. They are not organized like the military or large commercial movements.”

  “Okay,” Carrie said. “Take us in.”

  Booker accelerated to join with the convoy.

  “On the nose,” he said. “They are still beyond visual range.”

  “Can you superimpose a reticle on the canopy?” Carrie asked.

  A thin red circle appeared on the glass. Carrie squinted but couldn’t see anything inside the lines.

  Booker advised her on their progress. “The lead freighter is going sub-light,” he said as they passed the orbit of the gas giant. “We’ll start getting advisories in about twenty-four hours.”

  The next morning Carrie spotted one of the other freighters; it was only a speck of light. During the day, it grew in size as the convoy slowed and came together. By evening she had identified all eight of the other vessels. The lead freighter, identifying himself as Occam978, acknowledged calls from orbital command. Shortly thereafter the first military escorts moved into position on the convoy’s flanks.

  “Occam Convoy,” came the call. “This is Lieutenant Kkance. In sequence, identify your registration, captain, departure planet and intended destination. Nine-Seven-Eight, you first.”

  “Occam978, Captain Sonj Budeuleoun, Cerava Six for Gwedo.”

  One by one, the other cargo vessels gave their data. A few were for Kkoli Spaceport, but most wanted to land at Gwedo.

  “Your turn,” Booker advised.

  Carrie responded with her details. “Booker1701, Captain Carrie Faulkner from Cerava Four to Kkoli Spaceport.”

  “Acknowledge Occam Convoy,” the lieutenant said. “You are cleared to Poeye Point. Contact Orbital Command at least two hours out.”

  Carrie let out a sigh of relief. She had been nervous that someone would order them to heave to. She grabbed Teeny Jim and gave him a squeeze. “I must have a guilty conscience,” she told the bear.

  The arrival process was commonplace. They matched the procedures she had listened to locally and what she had experienced on Ebene Three. Orbital Command handed them off to Atmosphere Control and they, in turn, to a final tower controller.

  “Welcome, Booker1701, we confirm contact at twenty miles. You are cleared to land on Pad 153. Report the pad in sight.”

  The familiar reticle reappeared on the front of the canopy. Under it was a huge concrete landing ramp, similar to the aircraft parking ramp back at the Baggs, Nevada airport. The dot in the center of the reticle hovered over a painted square with large white numerals. Her implant translated the script, 153.

  “Tower, landing pad in sight, Booker1701.”

  “Copy 1701, cleared to land. Contact Ground Control after landing.”

  “Booker1701.”

  A moment later Booker landed without event and opened the cargo bay door. “You are on Ground frequency,” he said.

  “Ground, this is Booker1701, down on Pad 153.”

  “Welcome to Jontu Four, Booker,” another pleasant voice responded. “Please report to the Customs desk. It’s the big white building on the south edge of the ramp.”

  “Understood,” Carrie responded. “Booker1701 out.” She took a deep breath. “That was pretty standard.”

  “Any instructions for me?” Booker asked.

  “Not really. I’ll probably be here for a couple of days,” Carrie said as she added Teeny Jim, a few clothes, and two sacks of gold coins to her Nike bag. “Keep your ears open and give me a call if you come across anything significant.”

  “I will,” Booker promised.

  Carrie stepped out onto the tarmac. She saw Todudo59 farther down the ramp. That freighter had also been part of her convoy. It looked like its crew was headed toward Customs as well. She set off in the same direction.

  On Jontu Four, ground crews didn’t come out and push their services onto transient captains unless they were called. No doubt they were otherwise engaged with better paying customers on the busy commercial spaceport. The sound of machinery filled the air and vehicles scurried around, delivering parts and people to parked spacecraft. The spaceport was split into two halves by conventional runways for those who needed a rolling start. The larger spacecraft were landing and taking off from the eastern half of the port area, across the field from Carrie.

  All the activity gave her a feeling of nostalgia. It was like this on the Isaac Newton Gateway and Moonbase One. People were busy with the work and enjoying their lives, excited to be part of the Milky Way Alliance.

  A high-pitched shrieking noise drew her gaze back toward the main flight line. She got just a brief glimpse of a rocket before it slammed into Booker. The massive explosion completely destroyed the yacht. The nose section flew up in the air and landed a hundred feet away. The two engine nacelles were blown off to either side and skidded along the concrete, digging out chunks of cement in the process.

  The blast knocked Carrie to the ground. She lay on her back, stunned, as pieces of debris rained down around her. Rolling over, she struggled to her hands and knees, trying to get up, but the shock left her disoriented with her ears ringing.

  A vehicle screeched to a stop next to Carrie and booted feet rushed to her side. But it wasn’t someone offering to help. A metal collar locked around her throat and clamps fastened onto her wrists. A weight pushed her down, pinning her on top of the hot concrete. She tried to struggle, but each time she pushed against the collar it sent painful electric shocks into her neck.

  “Who is she?” a male voice asked aloud.

  “I don’t know,” another responded. The man spoke with an overtone of command. “But it doesn’t m
atter. Our orders are to pick her up and hand her off to the Angqua.”

  “The Angqua?” the first voice replied a bit shakily. “That don’t sound good.”

  “I agree,” the leader responded. “So let’s do everything by the numbers. Juber, get that bag.”

  One of the men snagged Carrie’s Nike bag. Carrie tried to reach for it, but couldn’t move. The leader stooped in front of her. “We’re going to stand you up now,” he said. “Don’t struggle and it will be less painful. Do you understand?”

  Carrie tried to crane her neck to see him but the collar zapped her again.

  “Do you understand!” the leader repeated forcefully. He was neither angry nor helpful. He just wanted an answer.

  “Y-yes,” Carrie stammered. “I understand.” Her mind was still a swirl of confusion. What was going on?

  The leader stepped over her prone body and grabbed the back of her neck restraint. The electricity stopped for the two seconds it took for him to jerk her to her feet. When he let go, the buzz of electricity returned.

  In a reflection off the side of their vehicle, Carrie saw a man holding a long pike that was attached to the back of her collar. Uniformed men on either side also held pikes that ended with the clamps around her wrist. They kept far enough from her that her arms were suspended away from her body.

  The leader spoke again. “I’m Officer Lunod. If you try anything, these men will stop you, painfully. Understand?”

  “I understand,” Carrie said. “I won’t.”

  “What’s in the bag, Juber?” Lunod asked.

  The officer holding Carrie’s bag opened it and pawed through the contents. “Two bags of coin, some clothes, looks like a spec block, and this thing.”

  He pulled out Teeny Jim and examined it skeptically.

  “That’s Teeny Jim,” Carrie whimpered. She tried and failed to keep the desperation out of her voice. “It’s just a toy. Please be careful.” She started to reach for Teeny Jim, but the man holding her neck pole shook it vigorously, rattling Carrie’s head back and forth, setting off the electrical jolts. Carrie screamed in agony and sank to her knees. Lunod yanked her back to her feet and took the teddy bear from Juber.