I wake up to the sight of Dr. Summers floating next to me, deep in her screens, eating from a cute little sushi boat tied to her inner tube. I freaking love this idea and am a little chuffed that I haven’t enjoyed that level of lounge yet.
“Good morning sailor. How was the night cruise?”
I snort, but expertly avoid rice in my sinuses as I copy Francesca’s meal choice. “like a gentle current carrying me off to the horizon of dreams.”
“More like lulling you into drooling on yourself. How do you breath with your neck bent that far?”
“Technically, I don’t have to.” The coughing I hear from my float companion tells me she is less skilled at eating than I am.
“You don’t have to breathe? When did that happen?”
“Nope. About nine months ago? During my tier 2 ascension, my mutation was used to fix a catastrophic download error that melted my brain. Now I’m mostly aether, stone and some comms tech.” I look over and see her face twitching. Oops?
“No. I am not going to deep dive into that pit of insanity this early in the morning. Though, I might be up for it when I come by to see Ivanka and Petra this evening.”
“Oh? I guess you talked to Naomi?”
“Yep. She wanted to know where you were, and location services are disabled in your Castle. A handy feature for the Empress of Humanity.”
“I will dunk you, plant lady.” I swish my chopsticks threateningly.
She scoffs at me. “She’ll be here in twenty. Though I’m reluctant to leave, as Tessa brought me up here instead of giving me access.”
“Tessa’s a smart person. You have like twenty hectares of castle to play with, you don’t need my measly 100 square meters.”
“Penny,” she whines, “That’s only 48. Forty through 47 have terraced gardens on them too!”
“Nope. No dice plant princess. I want to check them out before you play in this lady’s garden.”
“You’re terrible and I hate you.” She flicks a piece of sushi at me, but misses horribly and bounces off my tube and into the river.
“That is gross, and I should make you eat it.” Instead I reach out to what I can see and teleport it into a waste bin near the picnic area. Who says I’m not nice.
We banter a bit before we finish our breakfast and then move on to dressing for the day. She asks if she can keep some clothes here, and I tell her that I have plenty of dresser space for her on 39. She literally boo’s me before accepting lodging in the riverward side of the castle and moseying her bikini-clad butt to the lift.
I definitely watched her walk away. Tessa flicked my ear for it, concisely reminding me what a disaster that would be. Yeah, still nice to look at though, and I know she does the same to me. Especially when a certain AI showcases me topless for the good doctor.
Twenty minutes of Tessa fussing over me and my finding something Imperial but not oppressive to wear for the day. Highlight-trimmed vest and slacks with a bow-tie collar heather button up with French cuffs, and purple sapphire bolo and cuff links. The shoes are simple, black boots with a modest heel that have enough weight to announce my presence.
Naomi runs over the schedule today and the Navy has scheduled skimmer racing for this morning?
“What the hell is a skimmer, and why am I not racing?” I ask Naomi.
“It’s a planetary survey vessel designed for civilizations that don’t have advanced sensors. It can move at supersonic speeds if you purchase the optional shell. The Navy versions are modified, but I can’t tell how with my non-military permissions.”
“And Rich designed the separation to keep people from un-intentionally crossing their comms with secrets. Inconvenient.” It does remind me, however, I have a lot of promotions to finalize. I arrange them so that it’s a cascading announcement from the highest ranks so that commands can tell their Sailors and Marines, but an announcement will be made tomorrow to everyone. Que that notification hierarchy and send.
Count to ten, call Captain Jessup.
“Admiral, to what do I owe this unexpected communication?”
“Congratulations on your promotion, Captain. Also, I was just made aware of a Navy sponsored skimmer race today. It seems that I have missed some reports, likely through administrative oversight. I would like to have someone assigned to brief me on developments weekly on ‘state of the Navy’ and any public-facing events on your schedule.”
“We really need to appoint an admin command, Admiral; and I fear that Rich is leaving it to us to figure out. But, yes, I have a junior officer that could use some more to do. We’ll pencil you in just before the Consul?”
“Sounds great, Captain. Oh! Because you’re the one I’m talking to when I thought of it, time to dime out anyone you know that might be grumpy about not getting promoted. Standing up Naval Administration Command with a position promotion to Captain.”
“Shore command, Astoria? Capitol district I assume?”
“Can confirm. Will be contributing to new compound design, etcetera. I’ll put the announcement out on Monday with an open call if you can’t think of anyone.”
He sighs over the link. Probably pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know two people that might take it. Another if you can guarantee they won’t get assigned to space for ten years.”
“Eh, best I can do right now, is six years plus choice of follow-on. People get complacent after more than that, at least that’s what Rich tells me after serving almost ten at Naval Reactors.”
“Alright Admiral. I’ll have the Lieutenant contact you today about the event and put you on for a full briefing in two days.”
“Thanks Jessup. See you at the next graduation.” He pings and then hangs up. He seems to like it at Recruit Command: Mercy Outpost. Recommended connecting a new base to the tunnels I built for the hangar and machine shop Beecham used to use as our shipyard. He’s also the reason I built a firing and munitions testing range on Mercy—commented most rounds will be shot in space, why not teach them there? Couldn’t fault his logic.
“We going to bet on if the Empress buys a skimmer for herself once she sees them.”
“Good morning, Sergeant. Surprised to see you on my doorstep today.”
“Almost wasn’t until I talked to one of the other guys schooled me on tier 2 protective gear.” She coughs and slams her boots together and issues a sharp salute. “Good morning, Admiral. I apologize for my behavior yesterday.” I return her salute while I walk past her.
“Ah, excellent. This reflects well on your team. And I’d say it’s a fools bet because if I can fly it, I’ll want to.” I beam ear to ear at the idea of fast toys. “Speaking of, did you bring a bike today Camacho.”
“No ma’am, I have two on the race route and a shuttle at the far end for emergencies.”
“My husband planned to walk back to the Guest House after looking at the Castle today, Empress, so we have two bikes here.”
“Excellent! Where we headed first?” Camacho walks over to take the keys from Naomi, she looks at me hesitantly, I shrug and energize my bike. Naomi grins evilly at my guard and puts on her helmet and energizes hers too.
“We’re headed to the race-course, starts in 30 minutes and I want to have time to build stuff if I have to.”
Camacho curses, throws a line at my bike as I’m about to take off, takes a few running steps and does a jumping heel click? I pull on the throttle before I see what that maneuver ended up doing and zoom off down the Parkway. When I steady out at 60kph, I look back to find Naomi about two bikes back riding next to Camacho on a black hoverboard. Okay, that is freaking sweet. Looks like it could also go down a mountain.
Naomi links me the race map on our way they and I see that it’s a long course out into the hills with a small stretch passing by the back of town. Kind of hard to watch but, hells, I can put up some stands on the stretch by town, if there aren’t any of course. We pull up to find a small crowd milling about while the racers are all chatting about waiting for the start of the race.
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I have the Matrix line out two areas for the stands I used earlier for the opening address and send that in a priority message to everyone within 100m of me. Most people get the message, and the rest just get moved as the stands are teleported into place.
I see that the starting line is just a few boards lined up in mowed silvergrass and decide that since I will be racing next year, I might as well invest. I walk out to the racers and ask them to back up a few meters. I laugh as they quickly salute and greet me and return the salute before I push out the outline of my plans.
I buy those colored, interlocking mats about 3 meters thick that spell “START” on the city side of a checkered line that runs the width of the line. A center portion is marked off as “TOWER – 100m AHEAD” in an orange block the same width of the tower I installed with a covered viewing box at the top wide screens on both sides and starting lights down each side. Down the center of the tower is “ASTORIA – 300” with the tech mod I let Tessa install months ago, I reach out to the screen controller in my mind, connect it to my HUD and post a countdown to race time on the big light board-style screens.
“There we go, I would race on that.” I look over to the racers again, “Do any of the turns have markers or is it just a coordinate for your HUD?”
“Just a coordinate, Ma’am.”
“Oof, going to have to change that next year. Going to change a few things I think.”
“Admiral, we’re only supposed to do the route once. Three hundred kilometers would be five times.” The Sailor that answered before replies again.
“Well, what’s your average course speed Sailor?”
“About 400. Top is about 600 on the straightaways.”
“The specs say these skimmers can go 500 kilometers on a tank, and the extra lengths would take a total of what, 40-45 minutes? I got ten credits for anyone that finishes the full 300, and 100 for the winner.
“Hells, I’m in for 10 credits, Ma’am.” Not a single one of the eight racers turned down the money.
Smiling at myself I take a tour of these Navy modded jet bikes. I can tell where they bought the extra shell and fitted extra fuel cell banks around the main jet and fuel core and put injectors into the bike’s intake ports. The ride is a café-style front section mounted in a restricted gimbal allowing leaning into a turn but with joystick-style handles.
“What a janky piece of shit. I am going to talk to whoever’s project this is. Was this cone modified for ramming things?” I start talking to myself while inspecting the vehicles.
“Uh, Ma’am. Someone at the Shipyard sent these to us for testing. They want a breaching team for clandestine boarding. Uh, we can’t say more in front of non-program folks.”
“Thanks Petty Officer. I’m fine with experimenting and fun-sounding commando missions, but I just can’t tolerate lazy engineering. Whelp, time to put my money where my thoughts are. Thanks for humoring me Sailors, see ya soon.” I knock out a quick salute and walk 100m off to the side, well past the end of the stands and stand up an emergency workshop.
/Hey hon, you got time for a 40 minute collaboration?/
I’m at a spot I can pause, so sure. And please don’t text, it feels odd.
Hah, I bet. Feels strange to me too.
I send a schematic of the skimmer with annotations from me on the mods that were done.
Oh, this is . . . I hope Beecham didn’t design this.
So, I was thinking low aspect recline, foot petals for yaw, center stick for roll and pitch. Thumb throttle and trigger boost. And something switchable for a thrust reverser or arrestor or something.
Assuming same max diameter and length, with at least the capability of this modified . . . thing, what’re my spending limits?
Estimated modded skimmer cost, not to include the cost of the crystals we’ll be using. Alright, I’ll start with hab compartment and fill in the shadow as we go. How say you?
I think we should decide on fuel/battery arrangements first? Modified pulse rifle arrangement?
Ooh, good call. Sounds good for main engine, but I want a dedicated arrangement for shields and thrusters. She pings affirmative and we start slapping parts on the shell in our community design space.
We save an enormous amount of space on fuel density and moving engine parts. To save money I install a re-breathing nitrox system under the seat space, with the crystal arrangement for the forward section in the duct-shaped spar that extends from the but area to beyond the feet controls, ending on a conical nose. The rather robust shield emitter is installed behind the head section of the seat and the small dead-space where gas and sensor connections pipe into the seat to further connect to an EVA suit.
Since everything fits in the box, I start teleporting stock and a fabricator to my position and send it my seat specs. I buy some straight steel pipe as wide as we need and start installing plasma vortex runes on a rear plate. I engrave the connecting channels and the afterburner rune directly on the plate and weld a ring to the plate to attach a shuttle-standard cone over the whole arrangement. I then enchant those parts to be heat resistant and stronger.
As soon as the seat is finished I start printing the Magitech wiring arrangement for the front, and create a foam space to set the crystals and shield generator in place for wiring. Tessa drops a hover/thrust bar at my feet with the thrust wiring and a small controller designed to translate swarm instructions to machine instructions – eliminating the need for a separate computer.
I had plans to start the race and shove shit in the Governor’s face, but the race has long started, and I had only briefly asked for control of the tower. I take a moment here and there to check the time and get some juice in me, but otherwise, Tessa and I just get after it.
Everything should work. It would be a lot cleaner inside and out if we had more than an hour.
But think of how cool I’m going to look!
Put on your EVA before testing it please.
Hah! Yes dear. I snap up a privacy octagon and change out my clothes. I climb up into the seat and toggle power for instruments, sensors and shields. They indicate green, but I punch the shield casing to make sure. It works and is in the shape I wanted! Woo! Next, I push a warning area to the people around me and energize the thrust circuits. Hover kicks on and lifts the front end to make my view even with the horizon. I put the hover/thrust bar to 3m then test the toggle to thrust and it lowers to just above the ground—that’s wonky. I start the thruster array on the lowest setting and tool around the plain to the side of the race course for a few minutes, getting familiar with the controls and realizing I never installed the thrust reverser so I’ll have to thruster spin to slow down. That’s fine, I have to do that aboard Indulgence also.
I land my little duct-tape and bubble gum jet bike a few minutes before the winner should be jetting across the finish line. By the time I get to the line, the winner has parked and powered down revealing himself to be a Junior Lieutenant. Probably passed his shuttle quals already.
“Greetings Admiral, good to see you’re still around. Did I see you have a skimmer of your own? Care to race after this one?”
“Cocky S.O.B aren’t you Lieutenant. I’m game, but take it easy on me: I just finished building it a few minutes ago.” The transition from cocky to confused is one worth watching. I still owe the little shit 110 credits.
When the race finishes, I thank and congratulate the Sailors and pay their accounts. The Lieutenant decides he want’s everyone to know that I “just built” even uses air quotations, a skimmer that I’m going to test. All eight of them stick around.
“Well alright. Eight young Sailors here to watch me crash a jet into a mountain.”
“And a Marine, Admiral.”
“Oh, Camacho, I though you were going to attach your tether and accompany me on your cute little hoverboard.”
“Fuck no, Admiral, ma’am. I will stay here, with your permission, of course.”
I chuckle at the alarm that she showed or a moment, “Permission granted.”
Andromeda, let this at least look cool. Tessa, what’s the power range on the main engine?
It will take you to Mercy if you ask it to.
AKA, too fucking fast. Copy that.
I climb up, strap in and hover. Systems energized and an apology to Tessa later and I thumb the accelerator forward. My helmet shield activates with the force I’m slammed back into the seat. Before I can think too much about it, the turn coordinates are coming on way too fast. I pedal yaw into my turn and the damn thrusters are set to scale with thrust and I way overpower that turn. I spin more than 360 before I get control of it and continue down the second stretch. For the second turn I roll almost 90 degrees and toggle hover to thrust and pull up into that turn for my whole life. I have to overshoot the turn a lot less with that powered turn. With a few twitches, I’m back upright with hover back on, with barely enough time to look at the 180 I need to do for the next turn. Full on shuttle reverse. Copy that.
I yaw spin my direction and then push my thumb to full throttle as I trigger finger the afterburner. I hear an explosion behind me and I feel a little queasy at the acceleration I am currently experiencing. As soon as my speed crosses into positive in the direction I’m facing, I take off the afterburner and pitch up to keep this dart out of the dirt. I take the remaining softer turns more slowly and pull back to half throttle. My next reverse is much slower, returning back to the line at a slow hover.
I walk around the back and see that the weld separated between the thrust cone and the mounting ring. With the blast marks on the aft section of the skimmer, that thrust cone must have exploded in the afterburner jet. Well, steel vapor explodes in atmosphere, good to know.
“Holyshit, Empress! Are you okay?!” Naomi comes running over and starts looking at me for injuries. And my checking, I mean patting my face and poking my suit.
“Naomi, chill. If I can walk away, I’ll survive.” Camacho jogs up next to her.
“After I finished having a heart attack, Admiral, that was the coolest fucking thing I’ve seen outside of a movie. Whatever blew up kicked up a cloud of . . . whatever, around your ship and then your black pencil craft zooms out of the cloud, then your jet sets the cloud on fire as you fly away like you were shot from a cannon!”
I start laughing, “I’m glad that looked cooler than it felt. I’m pretty sure the g’s I pulled on that 180 would have killed me without mutations to help me out.”
A few of the other Sailors came by with various combinations of telling me I’m insane and that they want to try it out after I fix the “it might kill you” thing. I’d say that’s a workable concept and also proof that whomever prototyped that thing was either lazy or stupid.
I would also question what kind of fights they are planning on if they’re trying to build insertion craft this small.
Yeah, who knows what it is. Once we track the order and designer down we’ll have more to work with. But until then, I am hungry. I quickly send all of this re-usable stuff back to a warehouse I keep on Mercy, the transport tax being far less than the recycle losses I would suffer, and start looking up places for lunch.