Chaotic Futures, page 18
“Then how can you predict the number of crew members I’ll acquire in the next seven cycles, which is when I wish to sail?” Doktorg argued.
“Request status on the materials ordered for storage aboard the peacekeeper,” Doktorg said.
- the governor replied.
“I’ll notify you when you can order shuttles to deliver the crew supplies and the material,” Doktorg said, and he ended the connection.
Khartagh was about to make a comment, but Doktorg spoke first. He asked, “Can you imagine what the executors thought when Kreus spoke to them in the company of the conclave leader, Cremsylon?”
“You’re much better informed than me,” Khartagh admitted. “Educate me.”
“It helps to have become friends with four fleet imperators, an Imperium engineer, and an Imperium inquisitor,” Doktorg said. “Kreus is the ex-Imperium and ex-Helgart governor. He arrived with the conclave in a mobile avatar.”
“As a bot?” Khartagh queried.
“How our executors have kept us ignorant,” Doktorg said rhetorically, as he shook his head in exasperation. “While on Imperium, Kreus became sentient. That’s why he was sent to Helgart. The conclave rescued him and transferred him into a SADE’s avatar.”
“The more I learn about the conclave, the more we appear the less worthy society,” Khartagh remarked. Then he added, “The executors must have been flabbergasted, and I would have liked to have seen that.”
“You and me both,” Doktorg, gurgling. Then he sobered. “How soon can we get some of the crew aboard?”
This time, Khartagh did the sending, and Doktorg received the message.
“Send that list to whoever will execute your transfers. I imagine it won’t be fleet headquarters. Many of them are stationed with the home fleets,” Khartagh said.
“Governor,” Doktorg quickly said. When the governor recognized them, he directed the entity to manage the transfers with no delays. “Use assembly authorization, if necessary,” he added.
Doktorg stood. “Before you’re transferred and I become your superior, I’d like to thank you,” he said. “For the last two cycles, I’ve been trying to figure out how to sail a peacekeeper by myself.” Then he held his arms aside.
Khartagh gurgled at the image of Doktorg trying to manage all bridge operations. He shrugged and accepted the hug that he was offered. It was strange in that he’d never been hugged by a commander. It convinced him that Doktorg had definitely changed and for the better.
A cycle later, Khartagh’s list produced results.
The peacekeeper received the first three shuttles full of crew members transferring from the local fleets. The following cycles saw the initial deliveries of the material that Doktorg had ordered.
Both imperator and declinator had transferred to the ship with the first shuttles.
Crew members remembered Doktorg as cool and aloof. They were surprised when he spent time shaking their hands and telling them that he appreciated them volunteering. Afterward, they’d often glance at Khartagh, as if to say that they were wrong to doubt his word that the imperator had changed.
By the time the shipments began arriving, the crew had Doktorg’s storage plan, which gave them a hint about the strange nature of the venture.
Crews transferred small items into cabins that they were told would remain empty. Large items were taken to storage bays.
For five cycles, more crew arrived, and the shipments continued until it seemed every available space was taken.
Meanwhile, Doktorg met with Khartagh and his first-duty telemetry and pilot officers.
The bridge projection system displayed a star map.
“The first stage of this search is to return to the Monforth system,” Doktorg said. “The second stage will be to occupy the position of the warship when it turned and accelerated to enter the dark.”
Then the star map shifted.
“This is an approximation of the warship’s heading,” Doktorg continued. “What do you see?”
The telemetry officer was the first to spot the anomaly. “That vector doesn’t produce the shortest distance to clear Imperium space,” he said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Doktorg agreed and waited.
“You speak highly of the alien commander,” Khartagh said to educate the officers about a key factor to consider. “Therefore, there must have been a reason for taking this course.”
A third star map was presented, containing an overlay of the executors’ territories. A yellow line originated at the Monforth system and extended through Imperium space.
“The course transects Executor Gaketork’s space,” the pilot commented. “That’s one of the least explored territories.”
“Which gives the warship commander plenty of opportunities to hide,” Khartagh offered.
When Doktorg didn’t speak, the three officers considered what they probably missed.
“It would seem that we must consider the question of from where did the warship arrive at the Monforth system?” the pilot remarked. “Should we infer that the warship is returning to a system in Gaketork’s territory that the imperator knew previously?” He was surprised when he received a clap on the shoulder from Doktorg.
“Now you’ve arrived at my supposition,” Doktorg said.
The foursome stared at the line.
“How accurate do you think the course was for the commander with the failing engines?” Khartagh queried.
“Difficult to ascertain,” Doktorg replied. “I’ve studied my peacekeeper’s data. The power output of the remaining three engines wavered, which had to have introduced an error. However, I don’t think it would be significant if the time in the dark wasn’t too great.”
“Then we can probably place lower priorities on these last three stars within the territory,” the telemetry officer mused. “Also, I know these first two systems along the line. If the commander is looking for help, it won’t be found in any of these five locations. They’re barren systems.”
“Then we sail for Monforth. Put our peacekeeper in position, accelerate, and enter the dark for this third star on the line,” Doktorg finished.
The next cycle, Doktorg registered his flight strategy with the governor. As the peacekeeper accelerated to leave the system, he received a message. His friends had thanked him for his generous gift of allowing them to remain with their families, and they wished him good fortune. Reading the message lifted Doktorg’s heart.
On the planet, Doktorg’s friends were meeting in Tarbar’s apartment.
“With our access to the governor still in place, I thought to examine Doktorg’s preparations,” Inquisitor Tarbar said.
“Why?” Commander Fastark asked.
“Because he’s Doktorg, and he’s an enigma when it comes to inventing strategy,” Tarbar replied, as if the answer was obvious.
“What did you find?” Commander Deckus inquired.
“Doktorg sailed with a little more than a hundred crew members,” Tarbar replied.
“I’m surprised he got that many,” Imperium Engineer Ragirt commented.
“His declinator, Khartagh, came through for him,” Commander Goskerk responded. “I imagine some old crew members were willing to give him one more chance.”
“Why do I think you’ve found something else?” Deckus offered.
“Here’s Doktorg’s manifest list for the peacekeeper,” Tarbar said, sending a message with the attachment to the others.
“The crew will be well supplied with food,” Ragirt said, when he eyed the amount of provisions.
“Read further,” Commander Gretren advised.
Several individuals were stumped by the unusual material loaded aboard the peacekeeper, not to mention the vast amounts.
It was Goskerk who started gurgling.
The commanders and Ragirt looked from Goskerk to Tarbar, whose orbs were bright with anticipation.
“Someone, educate me,” Fastark complained.
“You’re looking at Doktorg’s mission too closely,” Tarbar said. “Imagine you know nothing about why he’s sailing. What does the information about the crew count and the supply manifest tell you?”
“He’s certainly not ready for a dangerous encounter,” Fastark replied. “He hasn’t the crew size to fight the ship.”
The moment that Fastark finished, the answer, which had occurred to Tarbar and Goskerk, dawned on the others.
“Are we saying that Doktorg hopes to find the warship and, if possible, help the alien imperator repair his ship?” Ragirt asked incredulously.
“That’s what this material list indicates,” Gretren said, raising his device in emphasis.
“Preposterous,” Fastark remarked. “There must be another reason. Yes, Doktorg thinks outside the box. But he’d be absolutely insane to take this direction. The executors would arrest him and mark him with an Imperium decree.”
“That would be true if Doktorg intended to return to Imperium,” Tarbar replied.
“What other choice does he have?” Fastark declared, as if there was no other answer.
“Conclave,” Ragirt supplied.
“The civilization on the frontier with the huge search ships that you encountered,” Gretren added.
“Or resurrecting the warship and traveling together,” Deckus said.
“But why?” Fastark asked anxiously.
“I think only Doktorg could answer that question,” Tarbar replied. “Personally, I’d enjoy hearing his thoughts.”
15: Unwelcome Rival
WOOT PLANET
IMPERIUM SPACE
“How could this system be so impoverished?” the chief engineer, Maktrich, lamented to Eshtitor.
“The sisters have searched various areas of the planet and several large asteroids in the inner ring with the equipment we gave them,” Eshtitor replied. “There is a great deal of regolith, which provides much of what we need to process our smelter’s output, but the rare metals we require for the initial steps haven’t been found in any quantity.”
“Will Frieda investigate the outer rim?” Maktrich inquired.
“They and we haven’t an option,” Eshtitor replied. “But we know that with one small ship, the sisters’ resources will be stretched thin.”
“Because of the sisters’ commitments to the Woots who contributed the grain,” Maktrich surmised.
“Bedoah says the sisters must devote much of their time to three growing seasons to increase the productivity necessary to recompense the Woot contributors,” Eshtitor explained.
“I guess we should be grateful for the sisters standing by their agreements,” Maktrich remarked.
“I certainly am,” Eshtitor said, before he exited the engineering space and headed for the bridge.
The Dwerves had scavenged every item that was damaged during the battle. Whatever could be repaired or added to the smelting was already processed. Through those efforts, two more engines were online.
Then expectations were dashed. The lack of critical metal ores and compounds had slowed Maktrich’s timeline, and the engineer hated reporting the bad news to Eshtitor.
Then Bedoah had arrived aboard the traveler with Cyan, and the pair made their way to Eshtitor’s cabin.
“Greetings,” Cyan said to Eshtitor and Quanitine. “Forgive the late evening visit, but Bedoah has an idea that might service both parties.”
Quanitine’s raised eyebrow replied to Bedoah’s open-mouthed stare.
“Apologies, Quanitine,” Bedoah said, after she managed to close her mouth and speak. “Those veils are wonderful, and on you, they’re made more beautiful.”
After the demise of the two renegade elevens, Quanitine hadn’t worried who might see her in her gossamer veils that she wore only in Eshtitor’s cabin.
“Lovely words, Bedoah,” Quanitine replied. “They’re much appreciated.”
“So, what is this idea you’ve hatched, Bedoah?” Eshtitor asked.
“The ship has been stabilized,” Bedoah explained. “Most Dwerves have nothing to do, and the sisters have too much to do. I asked Frieda if there couldn’t be an exception to more Dwerves on the planet, and she came up with a plan.”
“The next harvest season is approaching,” Cyan continued. “We would take three traveler loads of Dwerves to the surface. They would help the sisters harvest and process the grains. Then they would be returned to the ship before dark. Their contact with the Woots would be minimal.”
“How many Dwerves could you use?” Eshtitor asked.
“About one hundred fifty,” Cyan replied.
“We face two problems,” Bedoah said. “The first is the acclimation process to the open sky. It would be better to start early and see which Dwerves could manage the transition.”
“And the second,” Quanitine prompted.
“The work is manual and dirty,” Bedoah replied.
Eshtitor eyed Bedoah, whose slender frame showed strengthening. The starlight had given her face a nice hue. “The effort has served you well, Bedoah,” Eshtitor complimented, which made Bedoah blush.
“Explain to me how this effort serves both sides,” Quanitine requested.
“Frieda has made agreements with two dresats,” Cyan explained. “If we service their fields, the sisters can have a portion of the harvest. With those sacks, we can repay the original lenders sooner.”
“Which will free more sisters to work on the foundry projects,” Quanitine finished.
“Just so,” Cyan responded.
“I like it,” Eshtitor replied. “I can select the more robust Dwerves, but I’ve no idea who will fail to accept an open surface. Cyan, do you have any expertise with this?”
“None, Captain,” Cyan replied.
“How long did you take to become comfortable, Bedoah?” Quanitine asked.
“It was seven cycles before I stepped outside Withern’s house,” Bedoah replied. “But, having gone through it, I think I can help others with the transition. Maybe, I can shorten the process to four or five cycles.”
“When do you want to start?” Eshtitor asked.
“A prominent Omnian engineer called Mickey Brandon often replied to that question with, ‘Is yesterday too late?’” Cyan replied with a grin.
“Give me one cycle to make arrangements,” Eshtitor replied. “I’ll have four traveler loads for you. That will allow a twenty-five percent loss rate.”
“Acceptable,” Cyan replied. “We appreciate your cooperation.”
The sister had turned toward the cabin door, but Bedoah was rooted in place.
“What is it, Bedoah?” Quanitine asked, noting the young tech was staring again at her.
“Could I ... could I touch one of them?” Bedoah asked, pointing at the veils.
“Certainly,” Quanitine replied, with a generous smile.
Bedoah approached Quanitine, and the tall ten held up a portion of the outermost gossamer layer. The diminutive tech reached for the material, but she halted. With the hard work, her hands had become calloused.
“I can’t,” Bedoah said, disappointment written in her face.
Quanitine saw what had stopped Bedoah. “For every problem, there is always a solution,” she said, whisking off the top layer. Then she draped the gossamer material around Bedoah’s neck, allowing it to caress her cheeks as the soft veil settled. “It’s yours now,” she added.
Bedoah’s beaming face was priceless, and Cyan recorded it for the sisters.
When Bedoah left, she fairly skipped out of the cabin.
Eshtitor embraced Quanitine. He whispered huskily, “I also enjoy seeing you in your gorgeous veils, but not as much as I enjoy removing them.”
Quanitine laughed and replied, “Then you’d better get started.”
During the night, a ship exited the dark far outside the Woot system. It would take time for the Dwerves or the sisters to receive the energy pulse.
On the bridge of the peacekeeper, the same would be true for the second-duty telemetry officer.
The following morning, by the ship’s chronometer, Doktorg crawled out of his nest, refreshed himself, ate a light meal, and joined the first-duty officers on the bridge.
“We found the warship,” Khartagh, the declinator, announced triumphantly.
Doktorg’s orbs widened. “At last,” he replied.
They’d made numerous trips through the dark, searching systems along the warship’s expected course. Boredom had begun to descend on the crew. Now the bridge officers were regarding Doktorg with admiration.
Waving a hand in dismissal, Doktorg commented, “It was a matter of data and logic,” which made many of the officers gurgle.
“Orders, Imperator,” Khartagh requested proudly.
“The order of the day is that everyone should relax,” Doktorg replied. “This will be a slow approach, and I don’t intend to be the instigator. What have we recorded?”
While Doktorg sat in his command chair, Khartagh nodded at the telemetry officer who sent the best images to the projection system.
“The warship orbits the larger of two satellites around an inhabited planet,” Khartagh explained. “We don’t have a great deal of clarity on the installation seen on the satellite.”
“Telemetry?” Doktorg queried.
“The heat blooms seen on infrared suggest a furnace,” the telemetry officer replied.
“A foundry,” Khartagh suggested.
“Most likely,” Doktorg concurred. “I need an aft shot as the warship rounds the satellite.”
“Coming,” telemetry replied, as he changed the image.
After examining the ship, Doktorg remarked, “Three engines online. Enough to maintain the ship, but probably insufficient to trust for a lengthy journey.”
“Pilot, I want to position our ship outside the near rim,” Doktorg directed. “When you get there, place our ship broadside to the warship.”
