(Black Star Company private shipyards, Dimiya System)
Nondrin stood in the main control center for the shipyards, and just stared at the screens. To no one in particular, he said, “I’m not drunk enough for this.” That got a round of polite chuckles from those around him, as he began going through the newest additions to the Black Star Fleet.
Oh, the personnel issues weren’t a problem, although it was surprising to have so many people added to the rosters all at once, Nondrin didn’t have any problem guessing where they all came from. After all, the freaking superdreadnought that had just been towed into the yards was a pretty good clue, even if the little corvette and the carrier that had come in with it hadn’t shared the news of the Battle of Edena.
Towing a superdreadnought across star systems was not an easy proposition, so it had taken a while, even using a Gateway to shorten the distance, for the superdreadnought to be brought into the yards after the battle. Nondrin had had plenty of warning this was going to happen, but there wasn’t anything quite like seeing a superdreadnought pulling into your yards. Especially when you were used to working on freighters for the most part.
Shaking his head, he called up the orders that the Master had sent for them regarding the ships. “Hmm. Looks like all three ships have been renamed, and we need to make those changes to their transponders and paint while we upgrade them.”
One of the workers in the control room laughed. “Oh hell. What is he going to do with THAT? I mean, I thought the Shinokage was a beast, but a superdreadnought?”
Nondrin shook his head. “Well, the carrier formerly known as Radiant Dawn is going to be renamed Dykhaniye Smerti. I’m told it translates from an Earth language to ‘Death’s Breath’. Given the loadout this thing is getting, I think it qualifies.”
“What is it getting?”
“Well, they’re updating the power core and engines, giving it some more powerful point defense, and somehow getting a stealth rig for this thing. It won’t be as stealthy as the little ships since it isn’t getting the hull job, but between the paint and the stealth rig it will be a helluvalot harder to track it down unless you already had eyes on it. Makes sense, since we don’t have a ton of proper escorts, yet.”
“I dunno, have you seen the specs on those gunboats we’ve been building? Those things are faster than anything bigger than a fighter, and I swear they’re almost all power core and engine!”
Nondrin nodded. “Which makes sense, since the crazy designer gave them a battle cruiser’s main gun with a load of shipkiller missiles to boot, and shields to match a frigate. Swarm of those will ruin ANYBODY’S day. Oh sure, a superdreadnought might swat one of them out of the sky in a couple hits, but you could build a couple hundred of them for the cost of one superdreadnought, almost. And you only have to worry about an on-board crew of five.”
“How many fighters we have to build for that carrier? I know we already have two of the Return’s sisters built and ready, just filling out crews, but surely we aren’t doing straight Raptors for the Smerti? I mean, they’re nasty as stealth fighters, but they don’t have the weapon capacity for bombers, right?”
“Yeah, well, the eggheads have been thinking about that since they first finished the design for the Raptors. Which is why we got two new designs coming down the pipe. The Thunderbolt IV is what they’re calling a ‘space superiority fighter’. Supposed to be able to mix it up with any fighters or bombers that come their way, and take a beating while they dish it out, either with missiles or that huge ass gun of theirs. And the Dragon is our bomber. Apparently, they handle about as well as shuttles, which means for fighters they’re crap, but they live up to their name. In addition to their normal missiles and guns, each Dragon has two Dragonbreath antimass missiles.”
“Antimass?”
“You know the gravity bubble we use so we can accelerate at decent speeds without becoming a stain on the bulkhead? Well, some egghead got the idea to screw with that idea to make missiles deadlier. Take a 100 kilo rod, and stick the engine on the back of it. Use a bubble so that the engine that would be throwing this thing at, say, .1c with its normal mass is now dealing with something that effectively weighs only 20 kilos. The engine is able to push that sucker a helluvalot faster. But just before impact, you flip the field, and make that 100 kilo mass effectively a 500 kilo mass, going at significant fractions of lightspeed. If it works with the bombers, they may start replacing ship missiles with them.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“Fuck me.”
“The Smerti is getting a squadron of Raptors for recon and stealth missions, three squadrons of Thunderbolts, and one of Dragons. And now you know why I need my first drink.”
“So, that’s the carrier. What about that little corvette?”
“The Jubilee? Well, the Master likes the name of that one, so it is staying. She’s getting the standard paint job, but she’s going to be the primary on the escorts for the Smerti, working with the gunboats and the fighters. Seems she’s also going to be the testbed for some experimental weapons.”
“That… seems almost normal. What’s the catch?”
“The catch is what we’re going to do to the Alamo. Well, she’s the Nightforge. We’re tearing out and reworking most of her insides, and making her into a heavily armed, heavily armored, nasty as all hell mobile fucking shipyard and manufacturing base. Big enough that we’ll be able to do work on the Shadowdancer or her sisters in the field, or build new ships in place. And carrying parasite ports for twelve gunboats, so the crews don’t have to spend ALL their time in those cramped things when not at a base.”
“And that’s why you need the other drinks, huh? Mind if I join you?”
Nondrin sighed. “Still got an hour until we’re off shift. Get the ships in the bays, and the crews working, and then we’ll share a round. No rest for the wicked.”
(Black Star Company Residential Platform, Dimiya System)
The counselor’s office was full of nice, warm tones, designed to feel safe, comfortable. There were bookshelves with actual books on them, and nice comfortable chairs, in addition to the couch. And it had just that level of noise where it wasn’t silent, but you weren’t having to talk over the noise. The old-fashioned mechanical clock could just barely be heard tick-tick-ticking along.
The counselor had had a successful practice on Jagloth, before the Legion. When her husband, who worked at the local shipyard, sold himself to secure their passage off the planet, she promised him she’d follow wherever his servitude took him. Thank the Maker that it took him to Dimiya, where he worked under Nondrin Caskhead, who was in a similar position. When her husband’s Master learned about her profession, he immediately took her on as the company counselor. That first year she’d been the busiest she’d ever been, helping all the people who had been displaced by Jagloth come to terms with their new position. She hoped being in the same boat, so to speak, helped them take her advice, even if she sometimes had to bother her husband to listen to her own little worries at times.
Since then, though, things had begun calming down. The Black Star Company was making tons of money, and the Owner made sure that ‘his’ people had everything they could need. Sure, they weren’t living in luxury, but considering that most of them were debt slaves who had been expecting horrors, the relative comfort and actual privacy won him a horde of followers who would gladly go where he led.
Now, she had more time on her hands, though there were still new cases that came through now and then, as stress built up or new people were inducted into the company. Her current patient was one of those recent purchases. According to the file, she’d been a well-known performer until her stance against alien slaves had someone kidnap and enslave her, before selling her as a sex slave.
“So, Liviana. How are we feeling today?”
The fallen idol cringed at the use of her name. She was curled up on the couch, trying to hide away from everything in the room, including the counselor. Including herself. “Turn it on! Turn the chip on! I don’t want it! I’m not me when it is her!”
The idol was referring to the Stepford protocols on the slave chip she’d been implanted with. Before transferring her back to Dimiya, the Owner had left the Stepford protocols in place, though on a more ‘calm, compliant’ setting than the ‘sultry sex slave’ setting it had been on. The reason was painfully obvious to anyone. Liviana had retreated within herself, using the ‘other her’ the Stepford protocols created to hide from what had been done to her. She didn’t have to be the victim if she wasn’t her.
That, of course, was entirely unhealthy, which was why the Owner had forwarded the counselor an encrypted code to turn the girl’s Stepford mode on and off, but restricted to only the ‘calm’ setting, and logging every activation and deactivation, to prevent abuse. Now she was faced with a situation not unlike some addiction cases. Liviana used the Stepford protocols to escape from being her, so she wouldn’t have to face the trauma she’d suffered. Helping her meant gradually weaning her off the Stepford mode while offering counseling to deal with the trauma.
The counselor sighed internally as she smiled a professional smile at Liviana. “Now Liviana, you know the rules. You have to make it through the hour, and then we’ll see about turning it back on.” At least the Owner wasn’t one who expected immediate results…
(Black Star Company Offices, Thelorius, Dimiya)
The receptionist looked up from the computer screen she was working in front of (if checking her social media counted as work) when the door chimed, letting in a visitor to the company’s official office near the starport. Well, this was little more than a place for business contacts to be made, since most of the actual Company business happened off planet, but that wasn’t the receptionist’s concern. She was just an hourly employee hired to answer calls and set up appointments.
The man who entered the office was dressed in black, including a black cloak and a wide-brimmed hat. The way he carried himself spoke of confidence and danger, if the receptionist was any judge, after meeting the boss. This guy wasn’t the boss, of course, but he gave off a similar feeling. Creeped her out a little.
“Welcome to the Black Star Company. How may we be of assistance to you today?”
The man nodded, and said, “Yes, would you be able to tell me if the owner is in?”
“I’m sorry, the owner is out of the system at this time, conducting business for the company abroad. Would you like for me to send him a message when he gets in range of a planetary FTL comm?”
“Yes, please let him know that I came on this date, and inform him that, as agreed, I’m providing advance notice about work involving him. He’ll know what it means.”
“I see. And may I have a name to give him?”
“Yes, tell him that it was Requiesce-in-Pace calling. He knows of me, at least, even if we’ve never met face to face.”