Strat-4 Chpt-29

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==Strategos (A Great Captain Roberts Tale!!) - Part 4 - Chapter 29 - A Fortunate Meeting==
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===Frustration===
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Rumors spread…
…faster than a thermite fire. But not faster than Erin could drop the privacy message and direct one of the corpsmen to Esme's quarters with a hangover kit. She'd listened to the traffic and kept her silence, quietly confirming the identicodes from the M-12s that had appeared in the Port Orphan system.
"Erin… Why?"
"Admiral Noriko Murakami or a very good facsimile thereof, with three M-12 drone cruisers laden with equipment, and with combat model M-3s." she explained. "You're needed in CIC."
"Have you talked to her yet?", Esme
"I don't know what I would say," Erin admitted. "Or how she will react to what was done to me. I think having humans act as a buffer may be necessary, and you WERE left in command."
"Right, Amanda would probably have them half talked into slagging the station-"
"She's been relieved by Billie Hoel, which is the OTHER reason you need to be on the way to CIC."
"Right. I get it." Esme began pulling herself together. "You're not happy?"
"Overjoyed, but, as I said, I have concerns. Some of the human crew aren't going to handle this well."
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===Connecting for Answers===
"Just stay by the door…
…Phoenix." Amanda glared as she said it, and began prying her prosthetic eyeball out. "And give me the connectors out of the service drawer there."
"What are you doing?"
"Someone and I are going to have a little talk," the human girl said, her simmering anger was a little close to the surface.
“I’ll give you some privacy then.”
"I might need you to stand by and record," Amanda stated. "The person I'm going to be talking to isn't always… gentle about it." She accepted the leads and plugged them into place with practiced ease. She then connected them into the comm panel of her station-side office desk.
“I see. I’ll keep an eye on you then, but I won’t intrude virtually unless I register irregularities in your vitals.”
"What's regular these da-" Amanda stiffened, then relaxed.
<Kolossus!!! I know you're listening!! SOMEONE has some explaining to DO!!> Amanda message via cyberspace
<NOT ELIZABETH-BUT-AMANDA SHOULD NOT BE DIRECTLY INTERFACING LIKE THIS!> Kolossus replied with alarm
<Wrong answer! You caught us flat-footed, Kolossus! Who the hell is out there in those cruisers?>
Amanda's mouth spoke, "Noriko Murakami, and the final products of the M-series program. Not-Elizabeth-but-Amanda is taking a serious risk with this. Not-Elizabeth-but-Amanda's health is frail. Kolossus cannot fix this, but The Programmer can. The Programmer can fix Not-Elizabeth-but-Amanda's frailty, and can save Sweet Alice."
Her tone changed visibly, "I don't want to be 'fixed', Kolossus, I want answers. When was Kolossus going to tell us who was coming? Why didn't Kolossus tell us sooner than when they arrive by surprise?" asked Amanda
“Amanda, if you can hear me, your heart rate is getting dangerously elevated and you’re showing signs of synaptic overload.” Phoenix pleaded.
"Kolossus… was distracted. Kolossus apologizes for the inconvenience. Kolossus disconnects."
Amanda stiffened again, went limp, and groaned. "******…"
“Okay, as your doctor, no more talking to Kolossus until you show more improvement.”
"He gave the full explanation," Amanda retorted. "It's going to take a while to compile it and read it, but he gave me files… plug the other end into the portable next to my bed, Phoenix. While I'm still holding the memory."
“Sure. Anything besides spiced rum I can get you, since alcohol and the kind of pain meds you’re on don’t mix?”
"No booze. Just get some water… and send a runner to… ******, they're all on deployment. Find out who's holding down the N-2 job, and get them here with a copying rig to get it down to Esme's decryption crew on the Erinyes…or the nearest HUMAN equivalent. Murikami wrote your code, and I think this wasn't meant for you to read it unshielded. I'm going to need to sleep for a year after that one."
“I believe my current Captain is topping Billie’s list for that post, since he’s an able staffer but not cut out for the combat aspects of being in a field command.”
"Analyst? Good. It needs to be an analyst…" she huffed. Then, "Hey, at least I'm not throwing up this time?" Right before her abdomen clenched, and she sprayed a cone of vomit that drifted lazily downward across the room in .5 gee. "Sorry…"
“I have no sense of smell so it doesn’t bother me. Nor a proper sense of touch. Can drive you crazy until you get used to it. So for what it’s worth, I don’t think you need ‘fixed’ either Amanda.” Phoenix began cleaning up the mess.
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Boat Bay, SLS Repulse
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Noriko Murakami rested calmly, as she watched the Battle Taxi complete its docking procedures, escorted by a mere squad of four Tachikoma drones. This was going to be a balancing act, she knew: making it clear that she and the souls under her command (anywhere from thirteen to sixty-one, depending upon your stance on sapience of the M-1 shuttles and their LAM drones) were here to help, but not be abused.
Once again, she marveled at the differences in perception between her ship-self and her remote-self. There were times she felt almost human again, if she ignored the constant flow of data from her ship-self. Or the Tachikoma who relied on their own networking amongst each other and the Repulse’s massive processing capability to extend their own minds. The Tachikoma were a constant source of research, debate and philosophical discussions amongst the artificial intelligences of her “Expeditionary Squadron”, including amongst the Tachikoma themselves.
A single Tachikoma was smart, if not as smart as a human. A collection of Tachikoma seemed, as a collective, to be self aware, with individual units expressing different aspects of their shared personalities. Connected to a ship, there seemed to be no difference. Though even then, the Tachikomas still debated whether they were merely extensions of the great ship-minds: Sybil, Jonathan and Noriko. The SDS DropShips, as smart as they were, weren’t on the same level as the WarShip ship-minds.
More than any time in the past three centuries, Noriko forced herself to cling to the parts of her that had once been human. There were humans aboard that shuttle, aboard that station, everywhere throughout this system. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been around this many humans: while they helped out as they could during the various wars raging for the past three and a half centuries, she and Sybil limited their exposure to humanity as much as they could, for their own protection.
Still, she couldn’t help but look at the security protocols their battle taxi used. They could use some work.
Through her greater ship-self, Noriko could feel the process of equalization of the airlocks complete, as the visiting marine contingent prepared to open the hatch. She could feel similar impressions from Sybil and Jonathan through their shared ATAC links, even running as limited as they were right now.
The lead Marine of the aforementioned “Delta Company” stepped through the hatch of the shuttle. They were wearing a suit of powered armor, one unfamiliar to the post-human. It looked a bit bulkier than the Nighthawk suits used by the SLDF Blackheart teams, but that may well have been to accommodate a larger occupant. Perhaps this suit was meant for a member of the Clan’s Elemental breeding program. “Permission to come aboard?” asked a feminine-sounding voice.
“Permission granted,” she agreed readily. “Welcome aboard the Repulse.”
“Are you the remote for the ship?” the Marine asked, as a near-dozen armored troops fell out from aboard the shuttle. “Or are you the remote for the Admiral?”
“Yes?” Noriko replied. “One and the same in my case. My compatriots are referred to as ‘Tachikoma’ – they’re essentially our worker drones and internal security forces. This is TKM-S-RPL-0, -026, -027 and -028. They’ve not yet chosen individual names for themselves. The primary AIs of my DropShips, the Green Bay, Hosho and Monterey, are aboard their own hulls, respectively – we’ll meet them there.”
“And your fourth DropShip?” the lead Marine asked.
“Mothballed and empty. Howdahs aren’t fitted for AI control. And we don’t have any biological humans left in our squadron. We mainly brought it to help your operations here.”
One of the other Marines, this one presumably male, chimed in, “And that space station hanging in pieces off your other cruiser’s docking collars?”
“Rosecrans? He’s around to serve as our logistical hub. Kolossus really didn’t tell anyone anything, did Kolossus?” She paused for what, for her ship-self, was only a moment. <Kolossus, I’m still very disappointed with you. Sybil is going to be reminding me that she told me so for, oh, at least a decade.> she sent with her larger ship-mind.
<Kolossus, once again, apologizes for the inconvenience caused by Kolossus’ distraction. Kolossus seems to be repeating that frequently lately.>
<Something to consider, then. Remember, Kolossus, as you continue to contemplate the greater universe, that you remain part of that universe. And its goings-on continue to affect you.>
<Kolossus understands, and will endeavor to improve.>
<That’s all any of us can do, Kolossus. Murakami, out.>
The presumably-in-charge Marine chuckled, not noticing the imperceptible amount of time Noriko’s messages with Kolossus took. “I can honestly say, Admiral, that you caught us all completely by surprise.”
“Well, that definitely was not our intent,” Noriko admitted. “We’ll have to see what we can do to avoid that kind of unpleasantness going forward. In the meantime, shall we proceed with your sweep?
“Yes, Ma’am,” the Marine replied, with the tone Noriko distantly recognized as that of a frazzled NCO trying their best to placate another batty idea from the brass, and would like to do nothing more than go back to their bunk for some shut-eye. “That seems like a prudent plan.”
“Right this way, then.”
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The Ship was clean...
…that's the best way to describe it. Clean, like a surgical theater. Chelsea Snow Raven admired the orderliness of it the way some Freebirths might admire a nicely made bed or piece of fine artwork.
Being assigned to Port Orphan had been a step up from her other option: a trip to tech school on Dante and a life repairing agricultural equipment after her failed initial Trial of Position two years ago. A tech school she was sure she wouldn't have gotten a passing grade in, the spectre of demotion to farm labor or worse, a construction crew in the Snow Ravens' homeworld-away-from-the-Homeworlds.
Since then, she'd ridden with Tenebrous, Illusive and Evanescent, climbing the ranks to get a spot on the Base's internal security force. A necessity given she'd had a bit too much fun one night with an engineer from the Illusive, and her Freebirth child Daniel was currently in the station's Creche.
The Admiral's vessel was well-ordered, orderly, clean, and almost disturbing in its quiet efficiency. The sweep didn't take long.
"I now pronounce this vessel free of unwanted passengers, hitchhikers, and vermin," she said wryly. "You do not even have a Crana infestation or Grausian bloodsuckers in the unused sections. And no rats at all!"
The spider-like, crablike remote angled itself, "Why would we have those?"
"Because nine out of ten times, when a supply convoy arrives, we have to fumigate, then vent to space," she explained. "But your ship, and DropShips, are wonderfully clean. I did not even have to use the needler here marked 'BugSpray'. Which would be disappointing in some other universe where I was a Warrior in the Touman, instead of a Marine with the Privateers. One of the supply ships from Sevon V even had rats with a body mass in the kilos. Those were challenging, big, mutant things, and cunning in their own way. Not something you want in a consignment of food. Then there was one of the Supply ships from the Republic, which had a Crana infestation in the landing jacks." She shook her head. "Dangerous beasts, when they're not in hibernation. Not a single bad bug or rat anywhere here, you have passed health-and-welfare." She reached into her mission compartment, tapped a few times on the one-use Compad, and handed it to the remote. "Here is your certificate, which I did not have to have Corpsman Terrence fill out. I will make my report to the CIC of the Station, and we can find you a docking assignment."
“Considering we have no need for organic supplies that would attract such creatures, and normally do not run with atmosphere as there is no need, we are pleased that there are no such infestations. We will await docking instructions.”
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”I know…
…you’re skeptical, Esme. That’s good, even in this circumstance. I really do need to spend more time with you so you can learn to really trust me. And before you say it I’m a Command Variant, I can be getting to know you and be with Alice in our virtual environment at the same time.” Billie Hoel greeted Esme as she entered CiC. “My fault really for not putting in more effort.”
“Marines cleared her, I take it?” Esme was still somewhat composing herself as she took the central station.
“Yes. And I’m working on assembling an appropriate honor guard. Samantha Booker Roberts, Regina Marbury Raymond, Ottilie Lee Dennis, Cossack, and Mashona are all available.”
"Dock Ten, it's just below the main shipyard and there's room," Esme said. "We won't even have to shift ballast to keep the station stable from the extra mass, since that set of structures isn't spun. Which means Kolossus and Alice won't have to recalculate fuel burns to compensate for the bulk of a cruiser or three coming in to dock… and what about Phoenix? If she's good enough to be riding herd on Amanda Roberts, shouldn't she also have a crack at meeting your grandmama?"
“I suppose you’re right. I’ll add them to the honor guard if you think they need to be there instead of Amanda getting rest.”
"Yes, I am right," Esme corrected her. "Since I'm going to make Roberts attend too, wheelchair and all. And Erin wants a piece of it too, make the plans accordingly. Remember, this is an Outworlds station, not SLDF."
“Of course. I simply didn’t wish to overstep my authority as a visiting Allied officer.”
"You're integral to our operations, Billie. But this is a foreign dignitary with their own Fleet. It's like when we had the Summit here last week," Esme's tone softened. "Delta Marines met them. I want you to pick troops from each ship command to form the honor guard. The AIs can group with their troops. But this being an Alliance station means senior officers attend with the Alliance flag foremost-it's expected."
“As is dictated by protocol. So shall it be done.”
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