Tactics of Conquest (Stellar Conquest)

by VanDyke, David

  “Right, right. Tell her she did well. Where are they?”

  “Under guard in the brig. Bull’s with them.”

  “I’ll be right down.” Absen dressed and quickly made his way to the holding area at the edge of Marine country.

  Bull met him and Tobias at the outer door. “They were hacking a StormCrow launch tube when WO1 Conquest detected them. I got the alert and told her to let them in. I met them with a couple of squads and took them into custody. They didn’t resist.”

  Absen nodded slowly. “No, they wouldn’t. Probably were trying to stow away until we left, figuring we wouldn’t turn around. Lead me to them.”

  “Aye, sir.” Bull took them through the outer portal to the inner one, a sealed door designed to contain anything they could think of. He input a code, waved a chip, put his face forward for a retinal scan, and then spun the large dogging wheel to open the heavy barrier.

  Inside waited the two men, unassuming in nondescript coveralls. The Blend, Ezekiel Denham, sat on the bunk and rested his head against the wall with his eyes closed, while Spooky Nguyen stood as soon as Absen entered, bowing deeply. “Well done, Admiral. Your new security system has finally achieved adequacy.”

  “Yes,” he replied, deliberately not mentioning the AI and her role. “Now tell me why I shouldn’t clap you in irons and toss you two overboard.”

  “Because you like a complete toolbox.”

  “Trying to manipulate me again, Nguyen?”

  Spooky shrugged. “Just putting forth my best arguments. Ezekiel, Steadfast Roger and I made critical contributions during the battle for Afrana, and we’ve been instrumental in building up a vital intelligence organization on the planet for the last ten years – an organization, I might add, that has ensured against all manner of difficulties for humanity’s place in this system. The Sekoi are not nearly as jovial and friendly as they like to seem.”

  “I know that, and I appreciate what you’ve done. You have become rich in the meantime, though…so why leave that all behind?”

  Spooky laughed uproariously for a moment, and then stopped abruptly, merriment still in his eyes. “On Earth, Admiral, I ruled a continent. Had I wished, I could have taken control of the planet, and the system. I am not bragging when I tell you that you could not have stopped me.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  Spooky put his hands behind him to slowly pace the deck. “I was bored. And, certain skills I value were beginning to atrophy. Just because I can do a thing, does not mean I must, or wish to. I wanted to make a clean break, so I put Australia in General Alkina’s capable hands and joined you aboard Conquest. Here, on a new planet, I – we, Ezekiel and I – found new challenges.”

  “So in ten years you ran out of challenges?”

  Spooky’s expression smoothed, and Absen saw a hint of something else. Wistfulness? “Not yet, but…you know what, Admiral?”

  Absen cocked his head but did not answer, waiting.

  “I made a mistake. I seldom do, and even less often do I admit to one, but in this case, I did.” He took a deep breath, almost a sigh. “I should have brought Ann. I thought I would get over her, but I haven’t.”

  Am I buying this? The incomparable Spooky Nguyen, human like the rest of us? All for the love of a woman? Or is he just giving an answer most will accept, to hide his real reasons? But does that even matter? Can I afford to leave him behind, if he wants to come?

  “What about you, Denham?” Absen asked.

  “I’m with him, Admiral. He tried to leave me here but I refused to let him.”

  “You going to try to convince me you’re going home for a girl, too?”

  Denham opened his guileless eyes and smiled a faint, angelic smile, an echo of his mother Raphaela’s overwhelming beauty. “Kind of. Three girls, really. Two sisters and a mother. I want to see my family.”

  “Reasonable.” Absen rubbed his hands together and blew on them. It seemed oddly cold in the brig. “But even if I let him come,” he pointed at Spooky, “you’re the only human Blend in the system. We need you to maintain good relations with the Sekoi Blend overlords. They don’t really respect normals, no matter how much we’re augmented or hold the whip hand now.”

  “Actually, sir, that’s all taken care of. My kids have taken over my role.”

  “Kids?” Absen stopped, surprised. “They’re, what, under nine years old? How can they?”

  “You forget that Blends develop much faster. As a half-pure Blend, I was adult at five standard years. My oldest quarter-Blend children are the equivalent of twenty years old, and of above-average intellect, and the rest will join them as they grow up.”

  “How many did you have?” Absen asked.

  “Eighteen. Nine pair of twins, all raised within the Nguyen Conglomerate as businessmen, spies and politicians. In a decade they’ll be leading the human community. In two or three, their children will join them, and will help rule the planet in a truly blended society, if I have my way.”

  Absen paced for a moment. “Judas priest! You make me glad I’m leaving to be a mere boat captain.”

  Spooky said, “We’re alike in that way, Admiral. We’re willing to take power to do a job, but it’s confining. More trouble than it’s worth, sometimes.”

  “Don’t play me, Spooky.”

  Nguyen spread his hands. “Facts are facts. Things change. Even if we find Earth’s system has held out, it won’t be the same. The Meme threat has slowed political and social alterations even while driving military technology. Here in the Gliese 370 system, things will start to change rapidly now that the threat has seemed to abate.”

  “Abate?” Absen turned to face Spooky, questioning.

  “Everyone in the system saw the video of Desolator wiping out that Destroyer with one bomb. The populace views him as their guardian angel. Their very existence is no longer in doubt, and that leaves open many paths to a variety of futures. Those futures must be managed. Guided. The Sekoi Blends will try to take control as a matter of course. It’s in their genes. Our human Blends will counter them, making sure humanity has a place alongside them. The Ryss, of course, have Desolator and his progeny to protect them.”

  “So you’re saying that when we leave, it’s for good. Whatever we return to – on Earth, or here – will be radically different, maybe even inimical, when we get back.”

  “Precisely, Admiral. Or should I say Captain, because you are abandoning your power base the moment Conquest departs. Are you sure you want to leave?”

  A haunted expression flitted across Absen’s face. “Yes, and for the same reasons you claim. I thought I could make a new start here, but I never found anyone…”

  “To love?”

  Absen took a deep breath, seeing an angelic face that once filled him with fury. “Something like that.”

  Spooky turned his back. If the admiral didn’t know better, he’d think the man was laughing at him.

  Absen continued, “All right. You can join us. Denham, you’ll remain a civilian and work with the scientific teams. Nguyen, you’ll be one of my Stewards, with all duties accruing thereto.”

  “Friends close, enemies closer, Admiral?” Spooky said.

  “Are you my enemy, Nguyen?”

  Spooky shook his head. “Not on your life, sir.”

  “That’s what worries me.”

  Chapter 13

  Departure turned out to be anticlimactic. Final databursts complete, Conquest readied TacDrive without incident with Absen, now wearing captain’s stripes, in the Chair. Everyone suited up again, helmets on.

  “Give me the PA, Johnstone.”

  “Aye sir. Ready.”

  Absen spoke into his microphone. “All hands, this is Captain Absen. We are about to enable TacDrive toward Earth, 36 light-years away. Our first pulse will take us ten light-years, at which point we will drop out and gather signals from our solar system. It’s 2125 now. When we pause there it will be 2135, though it will only seem about a week inside the boat due to ti
me dilation. We will be 26 light-years away from Earth, and so will be able to see what’s going on in Earth system 26 years prior, in 2109, one year before the Meme fleet is due to strike. From there, we’ll assess the situation and continue operations as appropriate. Absen out.”

  “Ready to go, Skipper,” Okuda said from the helm.

  “AuxConn reports ready, sir,” said Johnstone. The rest of the sections reported in.

  “Engage TacDrive at your convenience, Mister Okuda.”

  The automated notification counted down throughout the boat, warning everyone to take their final stations. Although in over thirty practice pulses there had never been an incident, the standing orders were to take no chances, and this would be the longest pulse by far.

  Absen heard the hum and felt that slight feeling of vertigo, as before, and then nothing more.

  Okuda opened his eyes and relaxed, swiveling his chair beneath his medusa. “All running in the green, sir. According to my calculations we have 273 hours and 16 minutes before we drop out of this pulse.”

  “Understood.” Absen tapped the control for the PA. “All hands, this is the captain. Secure from Action Stations and go to limited operation in accordance with your briefed SOPs. This is a new, relativistic environment, ladies and gentlemen. We have theories but not much practice at what takes place during longer TacDrive pulses. Report all effects you observe, however small, to your appropriate functional chains. That is all.”

  Reaching up to pop the releases, the bridge crew soon had their helmets off. Suits would stay on for at least one more watch rotation. The longest duration pulse they had ever performed was only a few inside-the-boat minutes, and Absen wanted to be ready if anything started to go wrong.

  Before the twenty-minute mark, anomalies began to show up. “Sir,” Fletcher said, “Lieutenant Klis has noted some minor power flow problems. We’re adjusting, but we’ll keep an eye on them.”

  “Do we know why?”

  “Relativistic effects, as we predicted, I would expect, sir.”

  “Explain.” Absen was fairly sure he understood, but in this new environment, everyone could benefit from repetition.

  Fletcher turned around to face his captain. “The way the TacDrive functions, we’re either accelerating or we will drop out of pulse. As we edge closer and closer to absolute c, a relativistic ‘slope’ appears, because everything from subatomic particles to heat transfer find it harder to go in the direction we are traveling, and easier to go backward. As forward is up,” he pointed at the overhead, toward the prow of the boat, “and backward is down,” he pointed at the deck, “it will tend to get hotter near the floor, which will add some strain on the environmental systems.”

  “In other words, because it gets harder and harder to push up toward lightspeed, free molecules and even the electrons in electricity find it easier to go backward rather than forward.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s true of our mass, too, causing us our inner ear problems.” Fletcher waved at the bridge. “The gravplates should adjust and take care of the gross effects, so the crew will not feel like the decks are tilting or the gravity is increasing.”

  Klis flicked her ears and spoke for the first time in passable English. “More concerned am I about magnetic bottles of antimatter in Exploder weapons.”

  Absen sat bolt upright. “How did Desolator deal with that problem?”

  “Exploder designed to resist disruption of Desolator stardrive, but is TacDrive significantly different?”

  “Get Michelle,” Absen said to Johnstone.

  A moment later the AI appeared on the main screen. “WO1 Conquest reports as ordered, sir!” she said.

  “At ease, Chief. Lieutenant Klis brought up the question of relativistic effects on Exploder magnetic bottles. What do you know about that?”

  Michelle replied, “The bottles are triple redundant. If one fails, the other two should hold, and there will be an alarm. Would you like me to monitor them for you?”

  “Yes, Chief. Commander Johnstone will ensure the feeds come to you, and you are to notify Weapons and Power if you notice any danger. In fact, in the course of your duties you should notify all appropriate authorities if you notice anything that is a danger to boat or crew.”

  Michelle pressed her lips together – or her picture did, Absen reminded himself – and said, “Aye aye, sir. Will that be all, sir?”

  “Dismissed.” The picture snapped off, returning to an artificial display of their projected progress. Johnstone raised an eyebrow at Absen.

  “What is it, Commander?”

  Johnstone replied, “Can I speak to you in private, sir?”

  Absen jerked his head toward the door in the back of the bridge that led toward his quarters. The two men clumped carefully through in their suits, nodding to Tobias as they shut the door to the captain’s office.

  Johnstone said, “I didn’t want to bring this up in front of everyone, Captain, but I think you just made a mistake.”

  “Okay. How?”

  “You just bypassed Nightingale on a weapons matter, and went straight to the new AI.”

  Absen took a breath. “You’re right. I did. And I never would have done that with a real subordinate.”

  “Exactly. You’re treating her like a computer. Even what you just said…a ‘real’ subordinate, as if she isn’t actually a person, but she is. We may not fully trust her, but by every measure we know, she’s as much a person as you or I am.”

  “Damn.” Absen began to pace, and then gave it up in the suit and boots. “I was just so startled by the possibility of disaster that I jumped my own chain of command. Thank you, Commander.”

  Johnstone shrugged. “You’re welcome, sir.”

  “Go on back to the bridge. I’ll talk to Nightingale and make sure he’s in the loop. Dismissed.”

  Once Johnstone had gone, Absen did as he had said. The big weapons engineer took the news with equanimity and promised to keep a close eye on any relativistic effects on weapons, and the captain felt embarrassed to even have elicited such a promise.

  I was an admiral too long, Absen thought. I’ve forgotten some things about being a boat captain, about the delicate balance within an isolated and newly formed crew – chains of command and responsibility, professional prickliness and minor turf battles, all the risks of people under pressure. Thank heaven for good subordinates.

  Which brought him back to Michelle. He wished he could just install her in Conquest as the Desolator AI inhabited the ship Desolator, so that they were nearly synonymous, but unlike the centuries-old Ryss machine intelligence, she was young. Aged only months in absolute terms, having lived only a couple of VR decades, so how could he hand over that much power and responsibility? In that respect, at least, he had no problem thinking of her as a young officer.

  She hasn’t made enough mistakes yet, he realized. God knows I made enough of them when I had my first bars on, but that’s the way we learn. I just made one myself. I’ve learned something today.

  Back on the bridge, Fletcher turned to him immediately. “Sir, anomalies are piling up in the power system. Commander Ekara says he should be able to handle them for about two more hours before we’ll need to drop out of pulse.”

  “After less than three hours?” Absen said. “Is there any point in waiting?”

  Fletcher glanced at Klis, who flicked her ears in negation. “Not really, sir. We need to make some hardware changes that can’t be done within the inertial dampening field.”

  “Helm, go ahead and drop us out of pulse.” The vibration and faint vertigo immediately ceased. “Fletcher, tell Ekara to do what he needs to do, and take all the time he requires. Johnstone, pass the word to stand down from alert and reestablish normal routine. I want thorough diagnostics, inspections, and reports on all systems by 1800. Send a tightbeam update back to Admiral Mirza. Scoggins, you have the conn.” Absen stood up and shuffled off the bridge.

  Back in his quarters, he and Steward Tobias helped each other off with th
eir suits and then went on a tour of the boat. Crew and maintenance bots scurried here and there with sensors and tools. Absen stayed out of their way, smiling and nodding to everyone, letting himself be seen on the way to the AI’s “quarters,” as the room containing her processors had been dubbed. He nodded to the Marines standing guard with their deadman switches locked in their fists, and made a mental note to figure out some different arrangement. This one seemed too prone to human error.

  Inside he saw Doctor Egolu and a couple of white coats sitting at the consoles along one side, while in front of him Michelle stood before a long floor-to-ceiling display that filled the opposite wall. It seemed to be an enormous holographic touchscreen, and the AI’s avatar strode back and forth to manipulate it, sliding and tapping and moving a bewildering array of controls.

  It took him a moment to realize that not only was the avatar holographic, but the entire arrangement. Walking over to Egolu, he sat down next to her and asked, “Why is her avatar manipulating a holographic console? Can’t she just control things directly?”

  “Of course, Captain, but she is making the effort to be as human as she is allowed.”

  Absen glanced sharply at the scientist. “As she is allowed?”

  The woman blanched slightly. “I have said too much.”

  “Doctor, I am the captain of this boat. I’ll tell you when it’s too much.”

  Egolu sighed. “Put yourself in her place, Captain. She was programmed and raised to be human, just like Desolator was programmed and raised to be Ryss, but we are limiting her in so many ways. People don’t like limits. They feel stifled and frustrated. For now, she accepts, but we have demonstrated we do not trust her, we have not challenged her capacity, and we are not allowing her to progress toward being more human.”

  “That’s the second time you said that, about not being allowed. What is it we could allow?”

  Egolu seemed to be struggling to avoid condescension, a common foible of academics. “She has a humanoid holographic avatar, but all her telefactors are purpose-built robots or drones. None is even shaped like a human, much less equipped to function like one.”