Chapter Eighteen
Breach and Clear, Part 1
Cheape looked over the stack of data pads in the corner of her new office with weary eyes.
When they said they were short on Logistics people, they were not kidding. Each data pad recorded items moved, loaded, or unloaded. Some were nothing more than a couple of crates, while she had come across two that seemed to include enough materials to make several large shuttles.
It was a madhouse, and the inventory control was whoever grabbed it got it.
Not exactly the most efficient of systems.
Of course, Cheape knew how to fix it, but it was not a small issue and would require a significant change in how things operate around here.
Not exactly something that she should start saying on her second day.
A ping from the personal data pad she had been given notified her of a meeting with Salem in exactly ten minutes.
Running her fingers through her hair quickly, Cheape tried her best to make herself presentable, but she had been sorting through the datapads for the last thirty hours with no breaks.
“Hello?” A voice called from outside her office. “Anyone there?”
“In here,” Cheape straightened up, “I’m just about to head out to a meeting, but I’ll help if it is quick?”
“I'm just dropping off some more datapads,” the man said with a friendly smile. He dropped a large box of pads on the one clear spot on her desk. “That is the latest from the Carrier Sparklight.”
“I see,” Cheape sighed. “Any shortages?”
“Shortages?” the man asked.
“Any supplies that were less than expected?” Cheape asked.
“There was an expected number?” the man seemed shocked. “No one told me!”
“Never mind,” Cheape groaned. “I’ll add it to the list.”
“List?”
Cheape pointed to where several pieces of paper were taped to the wall. It was a to-do list and already stretched from floor to ceiling.
“Got to go!” Cheape rushed past him. “Let yourself out, okay?”
The silvery floor of the lift tube gave her the creeps; something about knowing she was standing on a sheet of millions of nanites that could suddenly turn her into goo was going to take some getting used to.
No one had ever used them like this, as far as she was aware. Mostly, they were just used in machines and such, at least from what she knew before coming to the Imperium. They were kind of a cheap thing to use in place of proper maintenance procedures.
Or so she had been told.
Here, she was rapidly having to adjust her expectations. Everywhere she looked, nanites were doing something. People walked around carrying weights that should have crushed them flat, walls repaired themselves, sheets of them carried people and goods between the levels, and when she had looked out the small window in her office, Cheape had seen one of the cruisers from Lang’s group slowly merging into another ship like water being poured into a bowl.
Either these were a new kind of nanite, or everyone had been underutilizing a crucial tool for centuries.
It was kind of like finding out your fire axe could fly and make trees grow while carving mountains into sand…
The moving sheet slowed to a stop as she reached the top floor, and Cheape leaped clear with immense relief.
A small section of the floor shifted to show a bright yellow path that started at her feet and disappeared around a corner.
Cheape swallowed hard and followed it.
“Come in, Logistics Officer,” Salem called as she approached the door.
Fuck, that was creepy.
“I may be a minute early, Ma’am,” Cheape offered apologetically. “I misjudged the speed of the lift tube.”
“No problem, Cheape,” Salem said, glancing up from over her clipboard with a brief smile. “I would like a report on your progress so far, as well as any thoughts regarding changes in procedure.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Cheape nodded nervously, “Permission to speak freely?”
“Go ahead,” Salem nodded.
“With respect, Ma’am,” Cheape crossed her fingers, “I have only been here for a couple of days and do not wish to criticize the methods already in place so quickly.”
“I understand,” Salem smiled. “But I really don’t care if you want to or not. I want to hear a report as soon as possible. How long do you need for initial thoughts?”
Cheape blinked, shocked at the order, but saw no reason to hedge any further. If she was ordered to be critical, she would be.
“I can give you an initial analysis now, with some suggestions for changes and improvements to encourage more efficient use of resources, as well as suggestions for the future improvement of the Logistics office,” Cheape replied, shifting to stand at parade rest as she fixed her eyes on the far wall. “I can not say for certain these represent best practices for the department, I think it would give it parity with other fleets eventually.”
“Go ahead,” Salem said, picking up a stylus and hovering it over the top sheet of paper.
“Ma’am, with respect, you do not have a logistics system at the moment. You have several piles that occasionally move around,” Cheape said, feeling the color drain from her face, “The inventory system is a stack of datapads that no one has ever looked at as far as I can tell. I am honestly surprised that you haven’t been robbed blind. I can only attribute that to the fact foreign ships do not land here yet. The moment they do, you will be cleaned out by the first supply officer worth their pay, Ma’am.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, wishing that Salem’s face gave any hint of emotion away.
“The only complete list of resources was Queen Lucy, who is away at the moment,” Salem said blandly. “She was our version of inventory control and logistics until recently.”
“I-I-I,” Cheape stuttered.
“Calm down, Cheape,” Salem smiled briefly. “You said you had outlines for a solution?”
Two hours later, Cheape walked out of the room in shock, clutching a pair of datapads in her arms. Following the arrows on the floor, she arrived back in front of the lift tube, which snapped her out of the daze.
Pulling out her personal datapad, Cheape looked up the emergency procedures and located the ladder that ran all the way to the docks. It would take too long, but if she went half way, there was a set of stairs to take her the rest of the way.
Tying her hair back with an elastic band, Cheape jogged off toward the ladder.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
One trip on the silvery metal a day was her limit for now.
A whole new system was going to be introduced, according to her suggestions. There had been a problem, and she had pointed it out, and now it would be fixed.
That was not how large places worked.
In the Line, Cheape had been trying to change the number of copies required on the requisition forms from four to three for FIVE YEARS. The fourth copy was for a department that had ceased to exist fifty years ago, and still, she had to fight.
The metal rungs were slippery, and Cheape was distracted, and the inevitable happened. She missed her footing, and her hand slipped.
Cheape felt herself begin to fall back and knew she was dead.
Less than a split second later, a black form burst from the vent below her, and the flailing foot landed on black chitin.
Looking down in horror, Cheape saw the silvered metal mandibles of the crawler clamped gently onto the ladder.
“Uh, thank you,” Cheape said shakily as she recovered her grip on the ladder.
It let out a rumbling chirp and withdrew, sharp metal feet digging into the wall as it kept pace with her as she climbed down the ladder.
Stepping clear of the ladder as she reached the floor with the stairs, Cheape looked up into the maw of the creature above her head, nervously reaching up a hand and patting it on the head.
It rumbled again and turned away, crawling back into another vent.
Cheape stepped out onto the concourse, crouched down, her back against the wall, and took slow breaths until the shaking passed.
“Found her!”
Cheape looked up from her position against the wall to see three metal figures gathered around her.
“Quad, get over here!” One of them yelled. “We found her.”
Another ran up from further down the corridor.
“Um, you were looking for me?” Cheape asked.
“Logistics Officer Cheape?”
“That’s me,” Cheape said, standing hurriedly and straightening her ship suit. “Is there a problem?”
“You tell us. I’m Prim, and this is Tri, Sec, and Quad. We are your new staff.” Prim said.
“I have staff?” Cheape remembered Salem saying she would assign someone, but that was barely fifteen minutes ago. “Already?”
“Ah, she’s a newbie,” Sec said solemnly.
“Things happen quickly around here,” Quad said simply.
“HyperDrive,” Tri added.
“Wait, what?” Prim asked.
“I was thinking we should get her some HyperDrive,” Tri said. “You know, get her up to speed. Get it?”
“Comedy is not your thing,” Prim said coldly. “Stop it.”
“That one guy said I was funny,” Tri insisted.
“Funny-looking,” Sec offered. “They said funny looking.”
“We all look the same,” Tri countered. “How can I be funny-looking?”
“I don’t know,” Prim said happily, “But you always seem to manage!”
“Uh,” Cheape froze as they turned to look at her instantly. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”
“Sure thing,” Prim nodded. “Lift tubes are this way.”
“I thought we could take the stairs,” Cheape said quickly. “It is good exercise.”
“Very well,” Prim turned.
“We’ll meet you there,” Sec nodded.
“No, we’ll go with her,” Prim insisted.
“What for?” Sec rapped his knuckles against his metal legs, “Exercise?”
“Politeness, scrap for brains,” Quad slapped Sec on the back of the head.
Cheape pointedly ignored the squabbling and clangs as she led the way to the stairs as quickly as possible.
The adjustment phase to her new life might be a little rougher than she had expected.
===<<<>>>===
The map table showed the various scans taken of the Imperium system. The oldest were the ones done by Carter’s people, while the newest data came from their disastrous sortie.
“There are way too many inconsistencies here,” one of the captains complained. “Are we sure these were only taken months apart?”
“We are,” Stibbert called from the far side.
The details were all pretty fuzzy, but the E.M. sweeps clearly showed that the satellite network had expanded hugely.
“Are we sure these are engine signatures?” Another Captain highlighted several signal traces marked in places around the map.
“Can’t be; where did they get so many in such a short time? Let alone the people to man them.”
“Our working theory is that they scavenged the Quick Response Fleet and have some of the engines running to make it look like they have more ships than they do,” Hardwicke said. “They took Lang’s ships back through the jump point with a skeleton crew. Even if they had this many ships, there is no way they could operate them effectively.”
“So we are likely to able to recover some of the lost ships, at least eventually?” The Captain speaking was one of the rising stars and could clearly see their future in Asset Recovery looking bright if they managed to get a few back.
“Carter’s reports suggested there were a couple of hundred colonists, most of them not trained in shipboard operations, so even if they used every man, woman, and child, they would still be short several hundred people,” Stibbert said, pointing out the engine signatures.
“The illusion of strength, in other words,” Hardwicke clarified. “They have a few good captains and ships; we have more.”
From there, they went over possible places to establish a series of forward base camps. The system itself was pretty standard, offering limited options in the outer system. The pair of gas giants each had moons with a breathable atmosphere, but only one of the jump points was even remotely close to them.
Their current best choice for three of the points was in the asteroid belt, where they could place multiple smaller bases as a redundancy measure.
Their best news was the one habitable world currently passing the Confed jump point pair.
As long as they launched in the next day or so, they should have a clear run down to the planet.
“Issue the orders,” Hardwicke told Stibbert. “We launch in twelve hours.”
The orders bounced between systems, each doing its best to copy them. There was never any shortage of buyers for the movements of the Imperial Line, let alone during a Blockade.
The last blockade action by the Line took place almost a hundred years ago when the company was half its current size. The whole thing lasted almost ten years and resulted in the capitulation of an entire race and the deaths of billions. Even then, people knew better than to mess with the Line, and it had only happened because of a trade war.
The news that a single system, one that everyone had considered abandoned for decades, was attracting the ire of the Line had everyone interested. The Sagacity itself was not just a very competent signal interceptor but also had excellent decryption ciphers.
Before the last message crossed the border into the Confed systems, Sagacity had already analyzed it and sold it on the open market.
Several of the buyers were within the Line itself, too low on the totem pole to be informed of things like this, but eager to keep up with company news.
One of the buyers was a blockade runner with a shipment of very ill slaves destined to cross the blockade and deliver their cargo.
They spaced them instead and chalked it up to a bad deal.
The last two people to learn of the plans, with scarcely a couple of hours left before it was time to launch the attack, were Captain Hellena of the cruiser Birdsong, and her commander on the far side of the Blockade, Cyrus.
Unlike Cyrus, Hellena was immediately faced with a problem.
While Cyrus was placed on the edge of Confed space, with the majority of the Ten Suns fleet to secure things, Hellena was in a small group of three cruisers and a cluster of support craft.
To make matters worse, the Maius system was famously prickly—no pun intended if you ever wanted to leave—and had turned downright hostile. Even if she had twice the ships, this mission would have been beyond challenging.
Now, she had to choose to either abandon the blockade and take all her ships into the Imperium or maintain it as ordered and only take a small force with her.
Neither was an attractive idea.
The Imperial Line had three members of her family hostage, and a failure in the attack or the maintenance of the blockade could get them killed.
“Captain Hellena to see Viria,” she told the guards in front of Station Control.
“Please make an appointment via the automated system,” The guard replied, eyes staring determinedly over her shoulder.
“Very well,” Hellena sighed. “Inform Viria that you were the reason for the damage.”
“Damage?” The guard frowned. “What damage?”
“Gotta love a guard,” Hellena laughed as she got out her communicator. “Birdsong, target the generators on the eastern side of the station and prepare to fire.”
“Stop!” The guard ordered.
“I suggest you evacuate the section immediately,” Hellena replied with a smile. “I would prefer to avoid any loss of life. I’m just in a hurry.”
Leaning against a wall while the guard had a very hurried conversation with his superiors, Hellena was unsurprised to see Viria appear in a flustered state.
“Captain, this is most irregular.” Viria hissed.
It seemed that the woman had not enjoyed her position as Station Manager in the last couple of weeks. Hellena could sympathize, but she had very little choice in these matters, and ultimately, it was her people that she would put first.
“Viria, I’ll be brief. I am taking most of my ships into the Imperium for a few hours. I will be leaving two of my support craft here. If you mess around, I will destroy this station on my return and personally hunt you down and kill you. Understand?” Hellena pulled her sword from the scabbard on her back. “This represents command to my people. The thing is, it is still a fucking sword, get me?”
“I understand, Captain,” Viria said angrily. “As I have told you repeatedly, we wish to remain neutral in this.”
“Good, keep it that way.” Hellena nodded and walked away.
It was time for her to see if the Line was right; these people were all smoke and mirrors.
If they weren’t, well, she had a plan for that, too.