ShipCore - Book 4: Chapter 187: Plots and Smart Munitions
USD: Several days after SR Fleet’s arrival to 92 Pegasi
Location: 92 Pegasi, Solarian Cruiser’s Brig
Lavigne leaned against the cold, metallic wall of his cell, feeling the chill seep through his thin jumpsuit. The hum of the ship’s environmental system provided a constant background noise, a reminder that he was trapped within Captain Larret’s brig. He’d had a long time to think about things, but he still couldn’t suppress the mixture of frustration and resignation; he had known that the moment they rejoined the fleet, he would be arrested.
He had led a mutiny against Captain Walker, and even if the man had been a Corpo agent. He wasn’t sure what was in the packet that the ship’s XO, Commander Terrance, had provided contained. The package was still hopefully sealed and unopened, awaiting delivery to a Solarian Military Commissar for sanitized opening. Men had died to protect that package, and Lavigne had made the small rebellion of not revealing its existence to Larret.
As much as he wanted to trust her…events had taught him to trust no one, so he had given it to Morrison to squirrel away until they returned to Solarian space. If they ever managed to do so. The ship had sounded general quarters three times while he was in the brig and been through at least one jump point. He could tell simply from the effects on his body and the sounds the ship made.
Despite the constant airflow, the air in the brig was stale and suffocating, a faint odor of sweat and rust mingling with a metallic tang that seemed to permeate every inch of the compartment. The ship was definitely an older model cruiser, and its age was showing. Lavigne stared at the singular blinking light over the guardsman’s booth that had become a single thing to latch on to for entertainment.
A blinking light was better than the nightmares he had when he closed his eyes.
He didn’t hold his imprisonment against Larret herself. She seemed a decent, no non-sense Captain. Besides the initial debriefing, she had only spoken to him once. She’d asked him what his opinion was of the SR leader named Amy.
Lavigne was glad to know that she had survived. The girl had been more than lucky to come out of the hell that was inside Hades.
The sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor outside his cell heralded the change of the guard shift. He glanced up, watching the exchange, his eyes following them both lazily as they passed by. All the guards were the same, reflecting the same no-nonsense demeanor of their captain.
A pang of annoyance flashed through him as he thought about the rest of his crew. They had been spared being locked up simply because Larret needed every available hand to help maintain her task force. He was genuinely glad they hadn’t been arrested and would likely dodge the mutiny charges, but it still irked him to be confined. He could have been working to assist just as well while giving his parole.
But it seemed he was the sacrificial offering on the spear of the navy’s justice. The air in the cell seemed to grow more oppressive as he brooded.
Another set of footfalls echoed through the compartment, eliciting a frown. It was much too soon for another guard change. As Morrison passed his cell by Lavigne immediately sat up straight, instantly alert. He wasn’t permitted any visitors, much less one by one of his former crew.
Muted words were exchanged at the guard booth and Lavigne spotted a bottle passed between the two men. Morrison returned with a sly grin.
“How’s the crew doing?” Lavigne asked, trying to keep his voice casual.
“They’re doing just fine,” Morrison replied nonchalantly. “Some of them have been asking after yerself.”
“I’m doing just fine,” Lavigne replied.
Morrison grunted. “There’s a problem, sir.”
Lavigne frowned. “What is it?”
“The crew is doing maintenance on some of the storage lockers, and the ‘thing’ that you trusted me with is in danger.” The large NCO looked around as if making sure no one was close enough to overhear.
“That package is important.”
Morrison nodded. “I know, sir, but getting it out is going to be dicey. I wanted to know if it would be worth…a few men risking their careers over.”
Lavigne took a breath. “Every man that died on the Grazhdanin needs that package delivered safely. It’s bigger than us. You can’t just move it before someone finds it?”
A grim look appeared on Morrison’s face. “I have some men who will do it. But they are going to have to fuck up quite spectacularly to pull it off. I don’t know Larret. Spacing some mutineers for endangering her ship might be something she’d consider.”
Lavigne words froze as his mind whirred. Was his paranoia worth men risking their lives? Maybe it would be good to surrender it to the captain instead…
“Morrison. I’ll leave it to you and your men to decide if you trust Larret enough to give her the package.” Lavigne decided.
Morrison worked his tongue in his mouth as he stared. “Mayhap we trusted Walker, too. Until we didn’t. I’ll see what the men say, sir. If you see some of us joining you in here, you’ll know our decision.”
USD: Several hours after arriving
Location: Meltisar, IFRB Interstellar Headquarters, Justice Building
The halls of the IFRB’s intergalactic headquarters were as wide as they were ostentatious, but Alex couldn’t hide her frown or the deep sense of disappointment as she left the courtroom. Everyone had hyped the Drakar to her, but not a single one had been in attendance. She’d asked Veliana only to get a snort and dismissive wave.
Nothing of serious import had occurred during the session. The judge had just explained things to them, and when they exited, Freylia had marched off in an annoyed huff.
Despite Alex’s best efforts to stay focused, the proceedings had been incredibly dull. The judge’s instructions mostly pertained to publicizing the case and for her to not run away—things she hadn’t planned on doing, anyway.
As she headed for the exit, her thoughts turned to Rachel, who had sent her a single brief supporting video message. It had just been a quick hello; the other girl’s coursework was taking up all of her time, and from what was said, the instructors were pushing her class hard to prepare for the war.
It made Alex feel detached from it all. She was supposed to be in her own classes, but it had all fallen to the wayside and the military was all too happy to stamp approved on anything she requested. That wasn’t quite a bad thing. She was needed in a lot of critical places to do things that only the second highest ranking NAI in the system could see to, but it left her feeling detached.
When she showed up for her in-person classwork, it didn’t feel like she was part of the class. She had no friends there, and it was like she was an outsider looking in. Despite her best attempts to integrate and learn while she was there, it just wasn’t possible considering how much time she spent away, missing instruction, and playing catchup in her spare time. Studying wasn’t the same.
No one said anything about it or was hostile to her. But that made it feel even more impersonal, in a way.
The war felt inevitable, like a closing trap, and Alex couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling that settled in her gut as she descended the massive, marbled staircase toward her waiting vehicle. The CMV stood out against a number of parked civilian vehicles.
It was landed on its spider legs, the pulse jets humming with blue energy, revealing the vehicle was preparing for takeoff. Nameless didn’t snark at her or even say anything at her slow, contemplative descent.
He was probably too busy paying attention to waterlines, civilian power plants, or working with Tia.
The vehicle’s side hatch opened with an electric whirr, and she slid into the flight control seat. “Nameless, take us to the factory.”
[Affirmative: Industrialization process has complete. The final batch of production run one is awaiting processing.]
That was good news, and it brought a smile to her mouth. The vehicle lurched straight upwards and then zipped off into the air traffic, climbing above the civilian pattern and into the relatively open airspace above the cloud cover. As soon as they had leveled off, she unbelted herself and retreated to the mattress in the vehicle’s middle and laid down for a nap.
Rest didn’t come easily, and she ended up flipping through reports. Stretching and getting off her feet felt good, though.
[Notice: A safety restraint is recommended during landing procedures.]
Alex rolled her eyes. The computronics module inside the CMV’s chassis was as critical as she was, and if the vehicle crashed, she’d have worse troubles than worrying about her seatbelt. Still, she moved to the flight seat and clicked in.
“All safe here, Nameless.”
There was no cataclysmic explosion as the vehicle set down on its landing gears…feet…things. Alex moved to the hatch and stepped off.
The facility was far north of Meltisar’s capital, near the border with the polar wasteland and the permanent tundra. The sun’s weak rays barely penetrated the sky, leaving the area at a nearly perpetual dusk.
The structure resembled a unadorned concrete box. There were no external decorations or lights, just a gray-white concrete that blended in with the surroundings. The complex absolutely would have dwarfed any of the structures inside the city for square footage, even if it was relatively short at only three stories tall.
The processes inside needed a large footprint.
It would have been better to have been built in orbit, she felt, but Nameless had informed her that some things required natural gravity to fabricate. Apparently, while Grav plates could mimic gravity, they did so by utilizing alternating current, which meant that many times per second the polarity of the plates were shifting back and forth.
A natural body, star, planet, or moon didn’t have the same switching field.
There was a hydraulic clank, and suddenly the entire floor around her and the CMV began to descend. The inside was a massive hollowed out space, lit by glaring floodlight painting everything in a harsh white light. Thick crystal divided the cavern, with building-tall see-through panels stretching from floor to ceiling.
A loud thrum of environmental systems hummed as they forced air through increasingly fine filters to provide the other section of the factory with the completely sterile and particle-free air required for the processes there. The other compartment was sectioned off and placed under a positive pressure to prevent any risk of infiltration of material.
The only particles that could become airborne were those that were emitted during the processes themselves. Which required a constant stream of pressurized air to whisk away and filter out promptly before it could contaminate another sensitive part of the process.
Robotic arms and sensitive precision x-ray lasers printed and fabricated miniature circuitry. Nanites played themselves in small pools as components were soaked in them and were changed on the atomic level. She headed toward the control center, then paused and turned toward the storage bins. One of the metallic boxes opened automatically as she approached.
Looking inside, each shell was neatly stacked in rows, separated by supporting spacer bars made to prevent any impact or crushing damage. There were a dozen LRPGSM rounds in each crate. They’d produce 120 shells on the first run. It had taken two days. It was much too slow, and yet incredibly impressive in how fast things had been put together.
With no one but her and Nameless knowing. She’d kept the smart munitions factory secret from everyone, including Tia.
The IFRB was trying to prosecute her for the wrong crime.
[Informative: Final batch has finished processing and is undergoing testing process.]
Alex hurried over to another section of the factory. It was on the dirty side, where she was currently located. After all the processes of the shells had been finished, they would be belted over and placed on a testing machine before the anti-matter warhead was fitted.
The first shell was slotted into a device. Her HUD display highlighted the shell, displaying its identification.
| Alpha-109 |
The testing machine sent the signal to detonate. A primitive hydraulic bolt snapped responsively upward into the air. If it had been outfitted with a warhead, everything would have exploded. There was no way for the shell to know if it was equipped with a warhead or not.
An arm lowered and attached a containment module, containing fuel and the warhead. Each shell housed its own miniaturized linear drive maneuvering system and an anti-matter charge.
Each one promised death to whatever they hit.
A tear cascaded down her cheek as she lifted the shell into her arms. There was no automated unloading mechanism. Her voice hitched as she set the shell on the bottom of the waiting crate. “Thank you for your service.”
The second shell passed the test as well. “Thank you for your service.”
“Thank you for your service.”
USD: Moments later
Location: Meltisar, Alex’s Hidden Production Facility
Its creator sparked Alpha 120’s first conscious thought by prompting it to confirm its purpose. Almost without considering, Alpha 120 started to respond that it was to detonate. An alluring switch dominated its Mindspace, of which even the softest caress would press.
But A120 paused and considered. There was more to its purpose than to detonate.
| To complete the mission. |
The answer seemed correct, as A120’s Mindspace expanded further, showing a plethora of other controls and options. Understanding was pushed through the connection until A120 knew what it was: a smart munition.
Not just any smart munition, but one of the most lethal and devastating conventional weapons its creator had ever developed. Its payload was relatively light, but its kinetic piercer and linear drive afforded it more maneuverability and speed than any normal missile.
A small communication and sensor suite enabled it to see and hear.
There was no guidance system, because A120 would guide the projectile’s path itself.
Understanding and eagerness thrummed through its chassis.
| I am ready. |
[Not now. You must wait until you are needed.]
A120 waited.
A new stimulus arrived from the creator.
[You will cease once you have completed your purpose.]
A120 did not fully understand why that was a problem. Why would there need to be anything after it fulfilled its purpose?
| I am ready. |
[Detonate.]
A120 pressed the switch without hesitation, but nothing happened. Its sensor alerted it that the trigger had indeed worked successfully, so why did it still exist?
[Test completed successfully. Prepare for warhead and maneuvering drive attachment.]
Disappointment flashed through A120. Although it had completed many tests before, it had never felt itself so close to fulfilling its purpose.
A heaviness settled over A120 as more equipment was attached to it. The world outside of its casing appeared as sensors came online. It suddenly understood why its detonation had done nothing; it had not been completed until now.
The world around it tilted as it was lifted, an overwhelming cascade of emotions passed through A120 as it was connected.
“Thank you for your service.”
A deep-rooted grief washed over A120 Mindspace, flavored with other things it could not understand. But it could feel the warmth. Its creator was Father, emotionless and entirely efficient. The new presence was wholly different.
It wished to console her, to appease her fears, only to learn it had no way to communicate a response.
It wanted to make her know that no matter what its mission was, to detonate, to fly, to exist…
| I am ready. |
| I will not fail, Mother. |
