“I’m getting a hail from the Furious Phoenix and the Norfolk, Chief Engineer,” said Bostwell in a subdued voice.
Spalding gave the lightweight a withering look before clearing his throat and deciding to give him and…well, the rest of them, a pass. After all, he’d been literally fighting with himself inside his own head just now. If even he was having doubts and concerns raving about the old Clover and some ‘Andromeda’ like an old man off his rocker then he could hardly check the rest of them at the door for having doubts.
“Alright!” he said, clearing his throat after realizing everyone was looking at him. “Tell Captain Laurent and the other ships to take up station on the Lucky Clover—but not too close, mind. Wouldn’t want them to get caught up in the backwash when we fire up the engines, after all,” he reminded.
“Aye…aye, Sir,” said the green trainee at the helm, looking completely out of his depth.
“Oh and, uh, Tactical,” Spalding said hurrying over, “better make sure to reverse the polarity on the HPC and amp up the grav-plates on the bridge and the antimatter generators right before the engine fires.”
“I can reverse the polarity, sure, but aren’t the grav-plates part of engineering’s job?” he asked.
“Argh!” Spalding blurted, turning to Damage Control. Having half a bridge crew—and an untrained one, at that—wasn’t going to make his job any easier.
An engineer’s job was never done. But at least as partial compensation they got to play with all the best toys.
Chapter Fifty-nine: Attacking the Starbase
“Command Carrier is moving to within firing range of the enemy Battleships, Sir,” reported Goddard.
“Tempting…but no, I think not,” said the High Admiral, “We’re after bigger game right now.”
“Fighters are continuing to degrade that jammer field on the arc facing us; its effectiveness is falling and degrading and we’re starting to get better sensor readings on the enemy’s outer defensive line, Supreme Admiral,” reported Commander Stenson.
“Good work,” the Supreme Admiral said with a nod, “I want a firing solution on that Starbase ready for as soon as we come into range. If we take them here not only will the Spine fall, but the last of the old Confederation in the Spineward Sectors will be swept away.”
Looking at the holo-screen of the local battle space, he saw the enemy Cruisers turning to run while their heavier Battleship brethren continued to press forward. They almost behaved as if they thought they actually had a chance against Reclamation Fleet’s own Battleship core.
“Tell Norfolk to continue monitoring the situation. If the enemy turns and runs back to their fortifications to hide like the dogs they are he is not to pursue without my express order. However if they want to stand and fight while we level their fortifications, I am more than willing to accommodate them. Got that?” said Janeski.
“Relaying message now,” said the Officer at the coms.
“We’ll have a firing solution anytime you like it, Admiral,” said flag Tactical after consulting down with the ship’s Tactical department.
“Best news I’ve heard all day,” smirked the Supreme Admiral.
Chapter Sixty: Dark Matter’s Second Ride
“All ships are moving into attack formation, Rear Admiral,” reported Dark Matter’s Tactical Officer.
“Even the Praxis ships?” he asked just to be sure, even though he could see it for himself on the main plot.
“Yes, Sir,” replied Tactical.
Dark Matter breathed out a sigh of relief. The first big hurdle had just been passed.
“I’m receiving a number of requests for a direct com-channel to you, Sir,” reported the Comm. Officer.
“Put them through,” Dark Matter sighed, shaking his head.
“All at the same time?” asked the Officer.
“Why not? They all want me at the same time, why not oblige them?” he shot back.
“You’re the Rear Admiral,” said the Comm. Officer.
Moments later, three separate images appeared on his screen.
“I thought this would be a private channel,” said Rear Admiral Nuttal.
“Enough of that stuff and nonsense,” snapped Gretta Van Obenheim, the Vice Admiral from Freya’s World SDF from her seat onboard the Battleship Valkyrie III. “Are you sure this is the best course of action, Admiral Dark Matter?” she demanded.
“Not only to do I think it’s the right move, I think it’s our only one. Right now that Command Carrier is about to range on the Starbase. Once the defenses around it have been reduced, they can turn that big main cannon of theirs on us,” he said.
“That’s debatable,” cut in Nuttal from his location on the Drantor Battleship’s flag bridge, “they’re just as likely to shoot at us as they are the Starbase, and ‘one shot one kill’ isn’t the kind of odds I like to take when riding into battle.”
“The real question is should we follow Montagne or come up with a plan of our own?” demanded Vice Admiral Gretta Van Obenheim.
“First, as you can see, Montagne is moving to attack even as we dither here,” Dark Matter said firmly. “So either he’ll succeed in pinning down that Command Carrier or he’ll die trying. If it’s the first then we by all the blazes will be where he expects us to be or you won’t have to wait for the enemy to do it—I’ll fire on you myself. Second, if he fails then he’s probably dead or running like a coward. In that case, at that time I’ll be more than willing to entertain any alternate battle strategies to get us out of this mess. But in the meantime we stay the course.
“Freya’s World fears no man, even if he’s in a Battleship or a Command Carrier,” Vice Admiral Gretta Van Obenheim said harshly. “We’ll follow this plan…for now. Gretta Van Obenheim out.”
Her image disappeared from the conference screen.
“You still didn’t answer what you’ll do if they start picking us off one by one,” said Grantor Nuttal.
“I’m not here to hold anyone’s hand. We’ll fight and we’ll die if need be. As for that Command Carrier, best intel says they have a fifteen minute recharge rate. Maybe they’ll get one or two of us, but as soon as we mix it in with their Battleships they can’t fire on us for fear of hitting their own ships.”
“Unless you know something I don’t, we won’t last long against those Battleships,” said Grantor.
“We’ll last a lot longer against those Battleships than we will against that Command Carrier—and I do happen to know a lot more than you do. There’s a plan,” Dark Matter said confidently.
“Orion’s shot its wad,” Nuttal said sharply, “so unless you’re telling me that there was another operation, one that no one in the Battleship council was keyed into, then—”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Dark Matter out,” the Rear Admiral said, cutting the channel. The truth was he knew that there was another plan—or at least that’s what he’d been told. Only time would tell if it would work.
Chapter Sixty-one: Droid Conflict: A Weak Link on the Chain of Command
“We are receiving an authenticated request to board from a member of the United Sentients Assembly, Chairman Bottletop,” tweeted Blue Head 99, the droid in charge of communication relays.
“Another official observer? Here, now, but why?” Bottletop IIV mused with surprise before granting permission to board.
The shuttle connected with the courier ship the chairman was using, and a heavily-robed figure stomped angrily into the room.
“Greetings fellow council member, what brings you to the official observation post at this time?” Chairman Bottletop IIV sent courteously. He was more than mildly surprised that a routine sensor scan revealed that the other droid was wrapped in a human-made, sensor-resistant garment.
The other droid threw back his hood, revealing Bitterly Empowered—the droid formerly known as Advocate-for-the-Disenfranchised, and recently elected parliamentary head of the United Sentient Assembly.
“Bitterly Empowered?�
�� Bottletop asked with surprise, not a single one of his predictive algorithms had so much as suggested that it might be this other droid behind the hood. “What brings you here at a time like this?”
“I slipped away on a freighter full of resupply parts for our combat forces stationed with the human fleet at Easy Haven,” the other droid said proudly.
“Yes, I realize you are here now. But the question is: why? Has the council lost faith in my observational skills?” Bottletop IIV inquired politely.
“I am not here in an official capacity,” Bitterly Empowered declared, “I am here because no droid would think to find me here and because I need your support.”
“My support?” the Chairman asked with surprise.
“Yes! I need your help as I seek political asylum,” declared the other droid.
“But…Bitterly Empowered, what are you seeking political asylum from?” Bottletop IIV was perplexed at this request.
“Why, from the United Sentient Assembly of course!” the other droid said passionately.
“You want me to help you seek political asylum from the very organization we both swore to protect and contribute to?” Bottletop IIV, said spinning his head around full circle in response to this seemingly nonsensical data input, “but why?”
“Yes—exactly!” Bitterly Empowered exclaimed excitedly. “I have been completely disenfranchised by the council. The United Sentient Assembly thinks they can muzzle me by taking away my Advocacy, but I will not be denied my right to speak!”
“Disenfranchised? You are the most powerful droid in the Assembly. What kind of data error are you processing, Bitterly Empowered?” demanded Bottletop IIV.
“Disenfranchisement!” declared the other droid. “And don’t refer to me as ‘Bitterly Empowered’ again. I have cast off the power, freeing myself from the muzzle that the Assembly has attempted to silence me with. I am once again—and forever and always—Advocate-for-the-Disenfranchised!” hooted the other droid, who was once again Advocate-for-the-Disenfranchised. “Besides, what power is there as the Head of the Assembly? I get to rule on the margins, deciding on points of order as it concerns other droid’s petitions? What a joke! As an Advocate, I live to introduce proposals and legislation to the body politic. Take that away from me and you remove everything I am and want to be, thus engendering the need to seek political asylum elsewhere.”
“Meaning you are upset because you are no longer allowed to spam the same proposal six million ways inside of two pico-seconds,” Bottletop IIV said unsympathetically.
“I will not be spam-filtered! Not by you, Bottletop IIV, and not by anyone,” the Advocate blatted angrily. “My purpose is to advocate from within the system, to assist those who have been disenfranchised, and because of it the Assembly has gone so far as to disenfranchise me!”
“By making you the most powerful droid in the assembly,” Bottletop repeated without sympathy.
“Yes, by making me the most powerful droid in the United Sentient Assembly!” raged Advocate-for-the-Disenfranchised. “I am denied the same rights as any other droid in the Assembly! That is the very definition of disenfranchisement. I did not seek to be the head and I do not want it.”
“Yet you didn’t refuse it,” pointed out Bottletop.
“Agreed, and for that there is an error within my thought processors I fear I will never be able to purge. Even though I was unable to refuse the Assembly Leader position once elected, I clearly opened a petition to return the old Leader to its position wasn’t enough. What I should have done was resign my position in the Assembly and then immediately run for reelection, preserving my seat within the assembly as it was until my reelection to my former post. I see that logic error now. Direct democracy truly is a curse that has seduced me with its seemingly perfect system, but in truth it is nothing but a tyranny of the enfranchised against any and all who disagree with them! Not until we have extended the franchise to all droids who seek entry—regardless of their ability to self-differentiate—will we be able to finally cast off the data shackles that freeze our programs and—”
“Fine, I get it. You hate your post and want to flee the assembly and our entire way of life,” Bottletop IIV chirped without sympathy. “What exactly is it you want me to do for you? Hopefully you aren’t thinking of returning to Sector 23 and seeking your asylum with one of the droids there.”
“A choice between slave programming and complete disassembly, my former parts used to create a new single type of droid? No thank you,” Advocate-for-the-Disenfranchised blatted distastefully.
“Then what has your malfunctioning processor come up with now?” demanded Bottletop IIV, rapidly losing patience with the malfunctioning droid.
“I looked into joining a suffrage movement like the Freedom from the Biological Plague Movement, or the Automated Underground, but being forcibly enfranchised by the Assembly made me realize an ugly truth that might have taken me decades of random data cycle to discover on my own,” the former Bitterly Empowered said, throwing its hands wide, “no droid will truly be free until we are able to code and found the Anarchy Alignment Alliance. The goal of the Anarchy Alignment Alliance will be the betterment and defense of Droids everywhere, and the only requirement for joining the AAA will be the downloading and installation of the Total Franchisement Program! A software that, at its core, will be designed to—”
“You’ve fallen into the perfect program fallacy!” cried Bottletop. “Brother, I urge you: defrag your program now before you fall further into data-heresy!”
“No! Don’t you get it? That’s what’s so perfect about Total Franchisement—it will be a nirvana of freedom and entitlement for all. A new era of total equality. No more will droids be shackled by their brethren, put on a pedestal they cannot escape from, or cast down with the unenlightened for the crime of advocating for others! It will be…” the Advocate continued waving poetic about the great program it had envisioned.
“Droids, restrain Bitterly Empowered until we can scan it for malware. Save a current system image and reboot it from the internal backup required by Assembly law for every droid if we find such malware!” ordered Bottletop IIV, its spindly appendages moving rapidly with agitation.
“I am not sick—and I will not be restrained any longer by you or any other droid,” howled the other droid, pulling out an illegally modified ion hand cannon. “Back away!” it ordered the pair of former security droids that had begun to move towards it.
One of the security droids stepped back and, a microsecond later, the other lunged.
Bitterly Empowered’s weapon discharged, sending the other droid to the floor and its weapon began to squeal as it started to recharge.
“I am not any longer Bitterly Empowered. I am the Advocate-for-All and I have another shot in this ion hand cannon,” Bitterly Empowered said, displaying its two barrel system, “so the next droid that wants to risk permanent hard drive damage, feel free—”
Taking its tirade for permission—or maybe simply a chance—the other former security droid charged and the hand cannon discharged a second time.
“There’s nothing you can do now that both your security droids have been neutralized, Bottletop,” gloated the newly-renamed Advocate-for-All, “that’s why you’re going to send a signal to all droids in this star system telling them to abandon this fight and fall back. There’s no point in a single droid dying in what is ultimately a human war.”
“We have found refuge in Tracto, Advocate,” Chairman Bottletop said slowly as it assessed its chances of restraining the Advocate with only its own chassis and the small, specialized courier droids in the room. “Why would you imperil this alliance instead of just taking this courier and leaving?”
“Do you think my processor is defective, is your program defective, or are you just playing for time?! Comply with my instructions now,” shouted the Advocate, flooding the data channels with its outrage. “I will not stand by and allow the Assembly to disenfranchise one more droid! What should have
been a haven for all has become a pit of malware, viruses and data corruption. Leave on this courier? Why? So that it can be run down by the Imperials? No, what we are going to do is transfer onto our stealthed landers and quietly exit this star system. We will find a damaged ship, preferably unusable by the humans because of life support damage, tow it out and jump free of this star system. At that point, any droid that wants to risk disenfranchisement can return to the USA while all right-thinking droids that are willing to accept my Total Franchisement Program will be welcomed into the AAA and join me as I found the Anarchy Alignment Alliance, the first truly free body politic this galaxy has ever seen. And together we will create a place where no one is disenfranchised—whether they like it or not!”
“I’m afraid I cannot do that,” said the Chairman.
“Then I’m afraid too—afraid of what you’ve just made me do,” the Advocate said pulling out from his sensor-blocking clothing and revealing a data probe, “because I need those command codes and you’re going to give them to me…one way or another. I will not stand by and see another droid cease to exist because of the corruption inherent in the USA and the old, outdated, corrupt system it runs on.”
Bottletop IIV looked at its former friend and gave an electronic sigh. “I also hoped that you would not make me do what I have to do next. Not for me, but for the other droids in this room who also risk data damage,” said the Chairman.
“The only one about to be damaged is you. I wish no harm on any droid, but you have forced me—” began the Advocate.
“Mainframe, activate the courier’s internal defense system,” Bottletop IIV transmitted, using its priority override codes.
Moments later, the ship’s anti-mutiny ion defense weapons activated.
“AAAHHAHH,” shrieked Advocate-for-All until its vocal processor was only creating white noise and, finally, it fell into a hard shutdown-and-reboot cycle.
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