“Modern distributed intelligence systems have re-incorporated that feature,” said the first officer. “Unlike earlier more AI-paranoid systems.”
“Then why…” I trailed off questioningly.
“The Confederation always did have more in common with the Caprian philosophy when it comes to dealing with DI computer systems,” said Tremblay
I raised a brow.
“The more hobbled, the better. And the less chance you’ll develop a rogue AI,” the First Officer stated matter-of-factly.
“The Imperials never quite learned the same lesson our peoples did. The Empire’s always been much more willing to push the edges of what’s possible. It probably has something to do with the fact that in comparison, while under AI rule their peoples did rather well, others like our own Caprian forbearers suffered tremendously or even underwent genocidal purges as soon as we’d outlived our usefulness to our AI masters.”
“The old dreaded Cost/Benefit ratio," I said with a manufactured shudder and false bearing of dread.
“We laugh now,” admonished the First Officer with a reluctant smile of his own, “but back during the AI wars, mothers would scare their children into taking naps with dire warnings that if they were bad, the AI would institute a Cost/Benefit analysis on them and if they fell below the acceptable Ratio, they’d be taken away. Never to be seen again.”
“Scary stuff,” I muttered. “I think I’d rather live with a clunky DI system than risk a return to those days.”
The First Officer indicated the main screen. “Enough of the history lesson, perhaps,” he said, redirecting my attention back to the matter at hand.
“Right,” I said abruptly. Turning to the Ex-Com operator, I said, “put me through. But make sure to use the encryption Lieutenant Commander McCruise thoughtfully provided to us. Reluctant as she might have been to do so,” I added with a smile.
When the Tech told me we were live, I schooled my still somewhat burned and scar-faced features into a polite mask. A few days transit time back to civilized space had allowed for the medical staff to work some further magic on my face, but they said that barring a full work up and extended stay in the ship’s infirmary, I was going to sport the evidence of that particular adventure (rescuing the native prisoners from Bugs) for the rest of my life.
Like any modern day individual, I fully intended to get my face fixed and put back to normal… eventually. For the meantime though, having a battle-scarred face seemed to help out with both the natives and the rest of the crew. I might keep it, if just for a little while longer.
“System Command, this is Admiral Jason Montagne, Commanding Officer of MPF Lucky Clover, Flagship of the Confederation Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, or I suppose we might now be the MPF-1, assuming the Assembly, in its wisdom, has already decided to designate a second fleet,” I said, speaking slightly faster than I wanted to, so I took a deep, calming breath to steady my nerves. Realizing I had taken too long a pause, I settled back in the Admiral's Throne to wait for the response. Because of the distance between our Battleship and the Star Base, there would be a gap of several minutes between the time they received the transmission and had a chance to reply.
With nothing better to do but look at the man and study his features, I sat there and observed. Other than being middle aged, the next thing that struck me about him was that his skin color was much whiter than the usually brown-skinned Caprians of the Lucky Clover.
Not quite as pale skinned as an Imperial or a Native of Tracto, like the native warriors on my ship training to be Lancers, he still looked like his skin would burn under the rays of a hot primary sun. He had black hair and a sharp pointed nose, once again putting him at odds with the generally flat nosed Caprians, and a look about him that said as certain as Duralloy, this man was a serious professional.
“Admiral Who…? What Fleet?” the middle aged man paused to take a deep breath. “How did you get this encryption key,” demanded the Confederation Officer.
“Admiral Montagne of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet and you are…” I gestured toward the man on the screen then continued, “Anyway, we got the Key from one Lieutenant Commander Synthia McCruise,” then I realized how that might sound. “Don’t worry, the crews of your two corvettes are fine. Well,” I hesitated, “mostly fine, anyway. They had a little run in with a squadron of pirates who called themselves the Bloody Piranha’s or some such nonsense, I think. Anyway, we showed up to save the day and put an end to that little reign of pirate terror. So you can talk with her if you want,” I put on my best winning smile, the one I had practiced for the cameras ever since primary school. “She’s in the heavy cruiser strapped to our hull.”
A pause.
The other man’s eyes popped before his brow lowered and he started to scowl before his face settled back into its professional mien.
“Colin Le-Godat,” the other man said shortly, omitting his rank and organization. “And yes, put Synthia on the Com,” he shook his head. “She lost both corvettes and is riding back in a heavy cruiser,” he marveled. “This, I have to hear.”
The other man paused, “I suppose your strange profile makes sense now that I realize what we’re seeing is really two separate ships instead of just one big blob,” he said.
“Oh no,” I said when it was my turn to reply, “the two corvettes were heavily damaged, but as far as I know are still mostly in one piece. The heavy cruiser issue is another one entirely,” I was going to say more, then I reconsidered, “I’ll let her talk with you and explain the situation first.”
“You do that,” said the Fleet Officer, Colin Le-Godat.
Turning my head toward a nearby bank of bridge stations to hide my rolling eyes, I looked over at the Communication section. I made a circling gesture with my one good hand, “Patch him through before we cut the trunk lines,” I said, trying to sound as much like a real Admiral as possible.
Several minutes later, a hard-faced Colin Le-Godat was back on the screen. Looking at that face, I couldn’t imagine anyone ever mistaking the man for anything other than a Fleet Officer.
“Assuming she hasn’t been coerced somehow,” he said, giving me a penetrating look, “the Lieutenant Commander had quite the wild tale to tell. Full of fanciful accounts of ramming and cold space rescues,” he said, “She also spoke of a potential ‘deal’ whereby you…” he paused and pursed his lips, “meaning the MSP, want to transfer to us an ancient and very run-down heavy cruiser, in exchange for two battle damaged but otherwise very well maintained corvettes,” he looked like he’d bitten into something sour, “One of which has no independent star-drive capability at the moment.”
“That about sums it up,” I said cheerfully. Hopefully we could avoid the full list of penetrating questions until after the agreement had been made.
“Let's table that discussion for the moment,” said Le-Godat, “You claim to be the Flagship of a real honest to Murphy, may the space gods destroy me if I lie, active Confederation Fleet Formation,” his eyes pinned me to my chair.
Feeling the weight of all the half-lies and self-justifications, I suppressed a gulp and, not entirely trusting my voice, gave my best regal nod. A nod gave me the perfect excuse to break my gaze with those all-too-knowing eyes.
When I looked back up and waited for the reply, the other Fleet Officer nodded slowly.
“My sensor technicians, in addition to confirming your outrageous story of transporting a heavy cruiser on the back of a battleship through multiple point transfers, also say you are heading in the direction of two medium cruisers, the Promethean SDF Cruiser Promethean Fire and SDF Cruiser Pride of Prometheus. As System Commander, I must officially ask if that so and, if so, may I ask why and for what purpose,” he said in the kind of voice that made a lie out of his ‘request’.
I paused to think, my eyes moving furiously until I thought I had come up with the proper response.
Straightening, I looked right at the main screen pick up. “Your Sensor section is correct. I
am indeed taking my Dreadnaught Class Battleship over to see the Prometheans and have a... ‘discussion’ with the Captains of those two cruisers,” I said, putting the ring of authority into my voice.
“Why, and for what purpose,” said the Fleet Officer, momentarily taken aback by the authority in my tone, “I’ll brook no settling of provincial disputes here in Easy Haven,” he said harshly.
I raised an eyebrow at his tone and looked down my nose at the Fleet Officer, “This is no provincial dispute, but rather a matter of either mutiny and treason or rank piracy against the Confederation. And you would do well to moderate your tone when speaking with an Admiral appointed to command of a Confederation Fleet, Mr. Le-Godat,” I said sharply.
The Fleet Officer quirked an eye. “How can one not be sure whether it's mutiny or piracy, Admiral… Montagne, was it?” he inquired.
“Ah,” I said, ignoring his last snipe, “A number of the ships in the MSP are at-will members and technically have the ability to terminate their memberships in our fleet at the instruction of their respective provincial governments. The Promethean Cruisers are part of this agreement. However, it is unclear if their planetary government authorized a removal from the fleet, thus removing their actions from out of the realm of treason and into the arena of piracy.”
“How can removing their ships from your fleet be considered piracy,” said Fleet Officer Le-Godat with a sharp look. “If, as you say, they have the right to quit?”
“Oh, the piracy charges aren’t related to the Medium Cruisers, they're in regards to a captured pirate conversion. The Prometheans were supposed to jump to the assistance of your two corvettes, along with my Flagship. Instead, they and our captured merchant conversion mysteriously disappeared en route to AZT89443.”
“Ah,” said the fleet officer, “things start to become clearer.”
“As you can imagine, even if Captain Stood and the Promethean Cruisers were completely entitled to voluntarily remove themselves from my fleet, after I’d issued them otherwise legal orders to rendezvous with the Lucky Clover at AZT89443, they were the last ones to put eyes on a merchant conversion with an away team from my ship. On top of that, the merchant conversion belonged to either the MPF or the ship which captured her which is, again, my very own Lucky Clover. If they're not part of the MPF…”
“In that case, System Command is willing to stand by while you deal with your wayward ships,” the Fleet Officer said, then added, “as long as the unified code of military regulations are followed, of course.”
“No longer being part of the unified military authority, the MPF has reverted to the most recent Confederation regulations regarding such matters instead, but your point is well taken,” I nodded in acknowledgment of his concerns. “If they submit themselves to our inspection without undue protest or resistance, they will be accorded every right under the laws of cold space. Part of my fleet or not, if they chose to resist Confederate authority during this crisis, after being suspected of treason, piracy and mutiny, any force necessary will be used to bring them to justice,” I said, my tone and expression unyielding.
Fleet Officer Le-Godat nodded slowly and then seemed to come to some sort of decision. He nodded decisively. “In that case, Admiral,” he said, a new level of respect for me in his voice, “as Acting Commander of the Easy Haven Star Base - Wolf 9 and 209th Confederation Active Reserve Light Squadron, I formally notify you of an act of potential piracy occurring within the Easy Haven System itself.”
My eyes widened.
“I also appeal to you, as a fellow Confederation officer and only Flag Ranked Officer in the system, to investigate the matter for your final determination,” said the Fleet Officer.
“I guess it's my turn to ask why it is only potential piracy, and for more particulars on the exact situation,” I said with a tight grin. Beside me, I could see the First Officer close his eyes and place a hand on his forehead. Tremblay could be so dramatic, at times.
“An Imperial Medium Cruiser commanded by one Marcus Cornwallis, an Imperial Commander in the Confederated Navy and the nephew of Imperial Senator and Rear Admiral, Charles Cornwallis-” for some reason I couldn’t understand, the Fleet Officer in command of the system defenses stopped talking and searched my face instead.
As the confederation active reservist spoke, the First Officer had been slowly shaking his head, but at the name of Charles Cornwallis, his look turned to horror and he rapidly shook his head at me, his face full of what could only be described as panic.
“I assume Commander Cornwallis has been sponsored into the Imperial Fleet by Senator and Admiral Cornwallis,” I asked stiffly, ignoring Tremblay and his antics.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but I feel I must ask. Do you know either the Commander or his Uncle the Senator,” asked the Acting System Commander of Easy Haven.
“I have not yet had that pleasure. Why do you ask,” I queried, trying to be polite.
“Just now, your expression,” said Officer Le-Godat.
Officer Tremblay broke in, “Sir, I must advise against any direct interaction between yourself and the Commander. Perhaps it's best for everyone involved if we find out the value of what’s being requisitioned before we move to labeling it piracy,” the First Officer said, more than a hint of desperation in his voice.
“Is there something going on here, that I should be made aware of,” asked the Acting System Commander.
“A small spot of history well over fifty years old, involving Uncle Cornwallis and the Royal family on my home-world of Capria, it all happened long before I was born,” I said, trying to laugh it off, “and is nothing you should worry about. I doubt it will affect the interactions between myself and the Commander, if he even knows that it happened in the first place.”
“Although you say it's nothing and I shouldn’t worry about it, I hope you’ll forgive me if I do so anyways,” said the Officer Le-Godat, looking worried.
I shrugged and glanced over at Tremblay. “There’s no reason we shouldn’t take a look into the matter before dismissing it out of hand as proper, or deciding to take action. There’s no need to rush to judgment here,” I said, struggling to project a jolly tone.
From the looks on the faces of my First Officer and the System Commander, I had failed to effectively project such a demeanor.
It turned out the Imperial Commander had stayed behind to escort a pair of semi-giant Constructor Ships, half the size of a settlement ship. Obviously, a Constructor was huge. A baby mammoth in comparison to the fully grown Settler ships, it was still many times the size of the Lucky Clover. There seemed some dispute about the legality of this action, but no one in Easy Haven had been willing to contest it.
Then the Imperial Commander had spotted several home grown Spineward Sector-built Constructor ships waiting for a proper escort to their final destination. With only a limited number of resources, the System Commander had sent the only escort he could spare with the giant settlement ships first. When Lieutenant Synthia McCruise and her pair of corvettes returned to Easy Haven, the other two corvettes in his Squadron were supposed to escort the Constructors to their final destination.
After spotting the ships, Commander Cornwallis had interpreted his mandate from the Triumvirate (to deny or destroy any Imperial military or strategic assets) to include the computer banks on the Constructor ships, loaded with technological innovations made in the fifty years since the Union Treaty.
All this despite the fact that the ships were locally built by local Sector Corporations that had nothing to do directly with the Empire or its military.
The Commander felt that, in his opinion, the tech base these ships represented was of significant strategic importance, and as such they could either join his convoy headed back to the Empire and seek re-numeration or relief when they arrived there (an unlikely prospect with an Empire embroiled in a war so hot they had to withdraw from the eight sectors comprising the Spine in the first place) or else abandon their constructor ships so he could destro
y them.
Surprisingly, I agreed with the Commander on one thing. These Constructor ships did, in fact represent a strategic asset of grave importance to the development of the Spine in general, and this sector in particular.
The rest of his position was just a power play to try and make himself look good for coming home tardy, sort of an apple for the teacher in exchange for turning in late homework. As far as System Command could tell, Cornwallis' ship represented the last Imperial Warship in this Sector, and probably the whole Spine.
“How did three entire Constructor Ships find their way to Easy Haven?” I asked, “One would be rare enough, but I’ve never heard of three in any one system at the same time.”
The System commander looked slightly embarrassed. “Everything we’ve heard from our intelligence sources,” I cocked an eyebrow and he had the grace to look embarrassed, “err, recently arriving merchant ships,” he amended.
I smiled as he sputtered to a stop.
“At any rate,” said the Commander, recovering his composure. “As far as we can tell, this is the only military instillation the Imperials didn’t blow up on their way out the door. At every main base and orbital fortress, such as Draconis 3, Alpha-Proxima, even Beta-Regula they just evacuated the work force before setting off scuttling charges.”
Admiral Who? (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 43
