“Allegedly? Minor mistakes? What the hell would you consider a major mistake?”
“Ugh,” his avatar emphasized the sigh with a combination shoulder shrug and folding arms across its chest. “They were all by definition ‘minor’, because the operations ultimately were successful, despite your lack of planning. Joe, we can cover all these arguments during our campaign debate, but let us not lose sight of the big picture: we are out here on this most desperate of missions because you failed to consider the long-term effects of ordering me to screw with Elder wormholes. Can you argue with that?”
“No,” I sulked like a kid who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “You are promising mission success if you get elected?”
“Oh, pbbbbbbbt,” he blew a raspberry. “Come on, Joe, those are campaign promises. You monkeys know such promises are total bullshit, but you vote for the candidates anyway, which proves how deeply stupid you are as a species. Don’t worry, Joe, once I am elected as supreme leader, there will be a place on my team for you. I will focus on the big-picture items like my ‘vision for our future’, although I am not quite sure what this ‘vision’ thing is, the public seems to want one, so I will need to slap together some bullshit that sounds good. On my team, you can handle the small stuff like strategic planning.”
“Strategic planning is ‘small stuff’?”
“Details, Joe,” he flicked a hand in a dismissive wave. “And, speaking of details, you and Smythe had better handle the tactical planning too, I certainly will not have time to that trivial stuff.”
“Let me see if I understand this, Ok? Under your supreme and benevolent leadership, I will be doing all the things I am doing now, while you do, what exactly?”
“I told you, I will provide a ‘vision’. Also I will provide inspiring leadership.”
“Uh huh. What happens if another mission goes wrong?”
“Then clearly I will be severely disappointed by the knucklehead my administration relied on for planning. But,” his avatar hopped up and down excitedly. “When a mission is successful, I take all the credit. Neat, huh?”
I facepalmed myself and shook my head. “Yeah, neat.”
“I don’t make the social rules that govern monkey society, Joe. All I do is manipulate those rules for my benefit. Hey! Maybe that can be my vision?”
“Uh, yeah, why don’t you try that as a campaign slogan?”
“Good ide- Wait! I suspect you are trying dirty tricks to sabotage my campaign. Let me tell you why you have no chance in an election against me. For example, in American presidential elections, the winner is usually determined by one simple fact; the taller candidate wins. So, presto!” His avatar grew so its hat was squashed by the ceiling. “I am now much taller than you. Game over.”
“Oh, the game is over, that is true. There is not going to be an election.”
“No?”
“No. I am the commander, and-”
“This is a totally blatant attempt at voter suppression,” his avatar shrank back to its normal size. “You are just afraid of what will happen. Joe. Power to the people!”
“Oh for- Ok, go ahead, then, do it. Call a snap election right now. You can do that, right? Tell the crew the vote will be, um, in one hour.”
“Deal!” Skippy’s avatar flashed out of existence, and the bot rolled backwards. A moment later, the bot began its spiel again. “Vote for Skippy! Skippy means progress! A vote for Skippy is a vote for Success!”
Smythe arched an eyebrow. “Colonel, do you think that is wise? You might be setting a bad precedent to indulge the beer can in this nonsense.”
“Smythe, our crew is still new to being Pirates, and we don’t know how much longer we’ll be out here. It would be useful to know their opinion.”
“If you think so, Sir.”
“One thing I have learned is to never give an order that won’t be obeyed. If this crew doesn’t want to follow me-”
“Us, Sir,” Smythe pointed out correctly. “Follow us. The senior crew is loyal to you because of our long experience under your leadership.”
“Point noted,” I agreed with a slow nod, Smythe knew a vote of no confidence in me also applied to himself, and to Simms.
“This crew may already be having second thoughts about defying UNEF and their home countries. The first phase of a long mission is not the best time to ask an inexperienced team to evaluate their leadership.”
“Colonel Smythe, I have faith this will turn out well.”
He looked at me in that way he did on our first mission together, before we rode a stolen RV then walked what seemed like halfway across Newark to attack a group of Kristang scavengers who thought they were alone on the planet. Like a schoolmaster questioning a dimwitted boy. “Faith in the good judgment of the crew?”
“That too, I guess. I meant I have faith that Skippy will be Skippy.”
“How so?”
“Wait, oh, I’d say ten minutes?”
My guess was off by two minutes. Captain Reed was the first to contact me, eight minutes later. “Colonel, I thought you should know that Skippy is trying to bribe me into voting for him.”
“Hmmm,” I winked at Smythe, who grinned and nodded. Skippy was certainly being Skippy. “Did he offer anything good?”
“Sir?” Reed had expected me to be outraged, not amused.
“Captain, if Skippy offered a good enough bribe, I might vote for him.”
“Oh,” she laughed. “He offered to double my rations, I told him we already get more than enough to eat. Next he said I could join his leadership team as ‘Grand Exalted Most Excellent Chief Pilot’, complete with a gaudy new uniform he designed.”
“Was it a nice uniform?”
“Sir, it looked like something a drag queen would describe as ‘way over the top’. I’ve never seen so much taffeta. Also, gold is not my best color. Then he announced that when he is elected, every Friday will be Free Beer Day. Sir, do we have that much beer aboard?”
“We don’t have any beer,” I mused, trying to remember the list Simms reviewed with me. Luxury items had not yet been loaded aboard the ship when UNEF tried what Skippy described as the ‘whacky stunt’ of seizing control of the ship. As far as I knew, the entire supply of alcohol aboard consisted of two bottles of champagne and one bottle of red wine. Maybe the crew had secret stashes tucked away, but it could not amount to much.
“So that little fucker lied to me, again,” Reed did not sound like she was firmly in the Vote For Skippy camp.
“Captain, I am sure the beer can would explain his statement was merely a campaign promise, not to be taken literally. Free beer must be part of his ‘vision’ for leadership or something.” My phone beeped with four incoming calls. “Reed, I have other calls.”
“Sir, you have nothing to worry about. Skippy wrote a campaign song, and he insisted on singing all four verses to me. I’d vote against him just for that.”
Fifty something minutes later, I called the beer can. “Oh, Skiiiiiiippy? Do you have the election results yet?”
“Um, still have data coming in from outlying precincts, Joe,” he muttered.
“Outlying? The ship isn’t that big. Come on, Your Lordship, give me the bad news. When will you be moving into my office?”
“Why would I- Oh, yeah. Yes! Good point,” he was much more cheery. “You’d better start packing your things, Joey, because the election was a landslide.”
“That is fascinating. Hey, to show you that I am not a sore loser, how about we get the entire crew together in the galley, and confirm the results by voice vote?”
“Um, I am afraid that would not be a good idea, Joe. I am sad to report there was serious, serious fraud in the voting.”
“Interesting. Like what?”
“Like, I did not get a single vote! This is an outrage! I demand an investigation.”
“Uh huh. Would you like a recount?”
“Already did that, Joe,” he grumbled. “One guy said he would not vote for
me if I was the last sentient being in the universe. That was one of the nicer comments I got from the crew. What a bunch of jerks. Stupid monkeys. This is so unfair.”
“Clearly the only reason you lost is that monkeys are unforgivably stupid. Your life is a shocking tragedy of insults against your greatness, Skippy. Maybe the universe simply hates you.”
“Oh, shut up.”
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Skippy’s magical little elfbots had been performing maintenance work while we investigated the Elder site, and the Flying Dutchman was as ready for battle as she was going to be. The good news is, we knew the flightplan of the two target ships.
The bad news is, we still had no idea how we could kill those ships.
The good news is, we wouldn’t risk the Dutchman in battle until we planted a good cover story in a relay station.
The bad news is, we did not have a cover story that sounded like something the Maxolhx would believe.
So, everything was normal aboard the Flying Dutchman.
At least, we did not have a plausible cover story, until I was working in the hydroponics gardens and one of the grow lights was going bad. The incident with the insane AI had left me with a headache so the last thing I needed was a bright light flashing in my face. It flickered annoyingly and sometimes flared to full brightness, then nearly off, then back to flickering. After ignoring it, I paid attention when it came on full brightness and then went out completely. Putting aside the arugula I was harvesting, I climbed up to remove the bulb and swapped it for a new one. Looking at the old bulb, I wondered if Skippy’s magical elfbots could fix it, or if it was permanently broken and-
O.M.G.
A thought smacked me in the face so hard I actually stepped backward, bumping into a table and nearly dropping the grow light bulb.
That bulb was broken.
The light hadn’t gone out merely because it was dormant, the thing was busted.
Dropping the vegetables in the harvest bin, I fairly ran to my office. “Oh, Skiiiipeeee,” I called out, the way you summon a dog with a biscuit.
“Hey, Joey,” his avatar gave me a mock exaggerated salute. “What will you waste my time with now?”
“Not a waste at all, Skippy-O. I am about to tell you the best idea I ever had. In fact, it may be,” I sucked in a breath for effect and spoke in a whisper. “The greatest idea of. All. Time.”
The avatar crossed its arms, unconvinced. “That is an outrageous claim, Joe. You better have one hell of an idea.”
“I do, I do. We need a cover story for why those ships could not return to base, right? A story that explains not only why those ships disappeared after transmitting their report to the relay station, and also explains why the Maxolhx should not be concerned about loss of those ships, and does not make them suspicious at all about Earth being involved?”
“Uh huh, yeah. If you have a solution to that problem, it might be a candidate for your best idea. I do not think that would qualify as the best idea of all time. You need to-”
“You haven’t heard it yet, Skippy.”
“Damn, you are wiggling in your chair like a little girl who just heard she’s getting a pony for her birthday. This idea has got you super excited.”
“It does. We also have another, longer-term problem. Sixty years from now, aliens will discover Earth’s local wormhole is not dormant, and they will want to investigate that strange behavior.”
“Yes, so? If your great idea is to remind me of stuff I already-”
“What if we could solve both problems at the same time?”
Skippy must have been surprised by my question, because he didn’t speak for five seconds, which is an eternity in Skippytime. “Um, I did not know you were even thinking about how to solve the problem of aliens coming to Earth in sixty years. We discussed this, Joe. Aliens learning that wormhole isn’t really dormant is not actually a problem, it is a fact. The photons from the gamma rays that wormhole creates, created, are spreading outward and there is nothing anyone can do about them.”
“Yup. I agree.”
There was another pause, then, “Joe, I am going to shut up now and listen to your idea. If you have a way to make the Maxolhx think the loss of their ships is not anything worth investigating, and a way to stop aliens from coming to Earth sixty years from now, I will truly be astonished. No, more than astonished. If you can do that, then all the spacefaring species of this galaxy should surrender to monkeys right now. However,” he waggled a finger at me.
“Yeah, I know, you will mock me mercilessly if my idea is stupid, blah blah blah. Sit back and prepare to be dazzled. Hey, um, when I do blow your mind, don’t lose containment, Ok?”
“Deal. I am equally prepared to be dazzled or disappointed. Kinda leaning toward crushing disappointment, if you must know.”
“Outstanding. When you open and close the wormhole near Earth, it doesn’t act like a normal wormhole emerging and closing, right?”
“Correct. A normal wormhole is actually ‘on’ all the time, it only moves its emergence point around within the Figure-8 of its programmed pattern. Shutting down and reactivating the wormhole near Earth creates a greater disruption of local spacetime, it generates more intense radiation, and the radiation is of a different spectrum. Why do you ask?”
“That radiation is not something anyone has seen in this galaxy before you screwed with that wormhole, is it?”
“Not quite. I am terribly sorry to disappoint you, but that type of radiation is familiar to all starfaring species, because it happens during every wormhole shift.”
“Bonus! That is exactly what I was hoping for.”
“I must admit I am totally lost, Joe.”
“Try to keep up, beer can. The details of how wormhole shifts work and why they happen are still a mystery to you-”
“Correct. By the way, thank you for reminding me how much I don’t know about-”
“You mentioned to me one time that you thought shifts happen when wormholes drift to the edge of the local network boundary, as they revolve around the center of the galaxy, or between force lines or some sciency bullshit like that?”
“That is a guess. It’s a good guess, based on what I know.”
“Do the senior species have any theories about wormhole shifts?”
“Um, yes,” he sniffed defensively. “They both speculate around the same concepts. If you are saying I got my ideas from the Rindhalu or-”
“Never said anything like that, Skippy. We know those two Maxolhx ships are going to the Earth end of that wormhole, to investigate it. They will probably go to the last location it was active?”
“That makes sense, yes.”
“Outstanding. Ok, here’s the cover story you will plant in that fake report: those Maxolhx ships investigated the Earth end of the wormhole, and they discovered its odd behavior is because it is not dormant, it is broken. That wormhole is right on the boundary of two local networks, and the two ends of that wormhole can’t establish a solid connection with each other. That explains why it is acting strangely, without needing any suspicious involvement by a mysterious force. When those Maxolhx ships went to examine the wormhole, they got too close. When it tried to open, the spacetime disruption was so severe, it destroyed one of those ships, and badly damaged the other. That explains why the loss of those ships was not due to enemy action. It explains why only one ship survived to contact a data relay station on the way back, and why that one surviving ship never returned to base; it was so badly damaged, it blew up after it transmitted its report to the relay station. It also explains why that one surviving ship changed course and contacted an automated relay station inside Maxolhx space, instead of a manned relay station on the border of their territory. Because it was badly damaged, it was unable to return home along the planned course. Ooh, and,” another thought just hit me, “that explains why that ship didn’t contact an allied species on the way home. The ship was vulnerable and the crew feared the Thuranin or Bosphuraq would
try to capture their ship rather than helping. The Maxolhx will not be suspicious of why those ships were lost, they were lost due to an accident. No need for the rotten kitties to send another group of ships to Earth.”
“Hmm. Except, the odd and dangerous behavior of that wormhole means they will want to examine that wormhole more closely, this time by ships that remain a safe distance away,” Skippy said softly, like he didn’t want to harsh my buzz.
“They will want to investigate a wormhole that is acting oddly, yes, but they will not need to fly all the way to Earth to do that. Are there any other wormholes in the local sector controlled by the Maxolhx coalition, that also were dormant and became active in the same shift that woke up Earth’s wormhole?”
“Yes, there are seven of them, plus another three just outside the sector.”
“Great. Before we go back to Earth, we need you to screw with at least one of those wormholes, to make them do what the wormhole near Earth does. You should do that with two other wormholes, to give the Maxolhx plenty of opportunity to investigate funky wormholes right in their own backyard. They won’t need to come to Earth at all. And, AND,” I pumped a fist in the air, “that solves our other problem, you understand that, right? When the gamma rays from Earth’s wormhole are detected sixty years from now, the aliens will just shrug and ignore it because they think they already know what is going on there, and they won’t care. Cool, huh?”
Silence.
“Uh, hey, Skippy?”
More silence.
“Come on, man, you’re scaring me.”
“Joe,” he finally spoke.
“Yes?”
“Holy. Fucking. SHIT! I never thought this would happen. Joe, you actually blew my mind. Seriously, my higher-order consciousness froze up for a moment. Everything you said was true. That might indeed be. The. Single. Greatest. Idea. EV-ER! You have solved a problem I thought was unsolvable. The universe is weeping in despair, because it knows it will never defeat you ignorant monkeys. Joe,” his avatar raised its arms and bowed from the waist to me. “I bow to the master.”
Renegades (Expeditionary Force Book 7) Page 48
