Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ripple Effects

“Edwards, come over here, please,” Paren called, and he felt his tension ratchet up to new levels.

Ever since he had reported back to the Lab, Carl had been waiting for something terrible to happen. Being a lab rat for the conversion process had been terrifying, but once he had been delivered to his own room, things had looked a little brighter.

Quite a bit brighter, if he was honest.

The room itself might have been a little sparsely furnished, at least to the eyes of most people, but to him, it had looked like heaven. It was easily the size of a gold’s quarters for a start. For another thing, he had been given a set of five ship suits which, to be entirely honest, were insultingly better quality than anything he had ever owned.

Then, his systems came online, one after another, and he realized exactly how much technology had been stuffed into his body. The implant alone was more than he had ever hoped to have, but once you add in the extras that came with it… wow. While he was stripping out of his former armor and getting cleaned up, Carl had felt every ache and pain in his body slowly fading away.

He thought he was dying, but his implant showed him perfectly healthy, or rather headed that way.

Aches and pains were something everyone had, especially those who had lived a rougher life than they would have liked. Carl, on the other hand, suffered from a condition that caused a considerable amount of nerve and muscle pain as his body had a bit of a short circuit in it. An accident as a child had left him scarred, and while he had healed, there was some damage that was just permanent.

In his case, it was a nervous system that was occasionally attacked by his own body and a brain that interpreted those attacks as constant, unending pain.

Even when it wasn’t happening, he felt a constant level of pain.

When doctors had explained the pain levels to him, the whole ‘1 is no pain at all, 5 is a twisted ankle, 10 is unable to think’ scale had made no sense to a kid who had grown up without a level of pain less than a four across his entire body.

Naturally, when that faded away, Carl assumed he was dying.

He was, instead, getting better.

That kind of short-circuited system was not tolerated in a system run by nanites.

Compared to that, being stronger and faster seemed a fairly minor thing.

Reporting back to Paren a few hours later, his brief period of joy had been replaced by a mounting stress level as he attempted to assist his new boss in several tasks. In short, she did not have any actual need for him.

He had simply acted as a slightly worse version of things she already had.

Fetch and carry was about his level of use, which had made him a little anxious as he saw her giving him a look.

The look, which he was sure was one he would be seeing in his nightmares for years to come, was like he was a set of parts. As if she could easily imagine a much better use for those parts, and worse than all of that, she was actively thinking about those uses.

“You called, Ma’am?” Edwards asked nervously.

“What am I supposed to do with you, Edwards?” Paren asked, running a critical eye over him.

Carl just kept quiet.

“See, I have a problem,” Paren said, shuffling awkwardly on her four legs. “And I want to know what you think.”

“I’ll help if I can,” Edwards said.

“I did something that I needed to do, but I never actually thought you would survive it,” Paren said simply. “I really didn’t. I assumed I was only capable of making sub-drones, and you would end up as one, and I would end your life before you ever woke up.”

Again, he said nothing. What could he say? Yay, I’m not dead?

“But now I have a problem, and I have no idea what to do about it.” Paren scowled at him like it was his fault. “That is not usual for me.”

“Uh,” Carl tried to think of something to say.

“The problem, Carl,” Paren went on, “Is that I now have a drone who has every reason to hate me, my people, and to fuck us over at his first opportunity.”

Edwards swallowed, worried this conversation would end with his death.

“That’s half the problem,” Paren went on, pacing around him, “The other half of the problem is that you are now one of MY people. That means I want to protect you, help you, and make things better. Which I can’t because I can’t trust you.”

“Uh,” Carl swallowed hard.

“So, I have a solution, but it requires your help,” Paren said brightly, sending icy shivers through his body.

“H-How?” Carl tried to speak.

“I want to buy your loyalty!” Paren said simply. “What do you need to be a happy drone and want to stay with us?”

“What?” Carl’s brain stuttered to a screeching halt.

“Keep up, Edwards!” Paren said shortly. “I want you to be happy and loyal, but I don’t know how to do that. Tell me.”

Edwards gaped as his mind blanked like a wiped datapad.

The cognitive dissonance between the expected horrors and the actual offers, not to mention Paren’s seeming sincerity, contributed to Carl's almost complete mental shut-down.

He became the first Drone in Imperium history to pass out, which was almost impossible to do with a nanite-managed system.

“I broke him!” Paren was complaining to the other woman when he woke up.

“He just passed out,” the assassin said as he woke up, looking up into yet another face of surpassing beauty.

Why did all the good-looking ones seem to be insane around here? That was the first thought he had when waking. But Carl bravely pushed through the thought and tried to remember what happened.

“What did you do to him?” the assassin giggled wickedly. “He looks terrible.”

“I told him I wanted to buy his loyalty and happiness,” Paren shrugged. “It seemed perfectly logical to me.”

“You used me as a lab rat,” Carl coughed as he sat up, head still feeling a little drunk, which seemed to keep the fear at bay for a moment. “Then talked about how I was a problem and couldn’t be trusted. I thought you were going to kill me! Then you smile and say you want me to be happy?”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

The assassin laughed again, and Paren shot her a look.

“I just want to know what you want!” Paren snapped as he pulled himself to his feet. “What is so complicated about that?”

“Sister, just order him to tell you,” the assassin smiled, “He has to tell you then.”

“That’s not fair, though.” Paren frowned. “I’m supposed to give him free will. You know what Mum says.”

“Mum’s not here, is she?” the assassin offered.

“No, she’s not,” Paren said thoughtfully. “What if he tells?”

“Order him not to,” the assassin smiled.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t think of that.”

Both of them turned happy smiles on Carl.

“Oh, shit,” Carl groaned.

“I comm—” Paren started.

“Wait!” Edwards yelled. “I just needed a moment to think, okay?”

“Boo,” the assassin laughed. “I wanted to see you ordered to do stuff!”

The first thing that Edwards wanted, above all, was to know exactly what had been done to him. The explanation turned out to be a long and complicated one, with several side points and a weirdly passive-aggressive discussion on the concept of free will, which Paren seemed to think was some kind of denial of reality.

Carl had to admit she had a small point about that. People very rarely had actual free will. You could feel how you liked, but actual freedom of choice was very rare. Technically, you could choose not to eat, but you would just drop dead eventually. Similarly, he could have chosen not to work for the Imperial Line, but as it was his only choice that didn’t involve a life of abject poverty, it wasn’t a real choice.

To say that Paren seemed delighted by his agreement with her point of view was an understatement, even if she did leave him feeling like a pet who had done a surprisingly good trick.

It was rapidly becoming apparent to Carl that spending all her time around her sub-drones was starting to warp her worldview. The universe seemed to be divided into three categories: family, enemy, or pet.

Once he finally understood the reality of his situation, he could actually answer her question.

“What I want,” Carl said slowly, “is not to be expendable. I don’t want to be another face sent in to die or to not matter to anyone.” He shrugged. “I want to do something that feels worthwhile, to be able to look in the mirror and be happy with who I see. I guess I just want to feel like I matter and that if I die, I am doing it for a reason, not just because someone I never met needs something I don’t care about.”

“That’s it?” Paren asked.

“Wow,” the assassin noted.

“How shit was your life before now?” Paren asked bluntly.

“Right?” the assassin shook her head, “Look at Mister Low Bar over here.”

“That’s just embarrassing, buddy,” Paren went on. “You have to aim a little higher.”

“Did no one ever explain self-respect or self-worth to you?” the assassin offered.

“I take it back; you don’t get to ask for what you want any more,” Paren added. “It’s just too sad.”

“Actually depressing,” the assassin nodded.

“Aww, poor thing,” Paren looked at him like he was a wounded puppy.

“Who hurt you?” the assassin asked.

“What-what’s wrong with what I said?” Edwards asked, suffering mental whiplash again.

“You need bigger goals,” Paren said simply. “Your own system, at least!”

“At the very least,” the assassin nodded. “Or to be the best version of you possible.”

“Make the universe quake as you pass by!” Paren said happily. “Become a legend they speak of in whispers for a thousand years!”

“Yeah!” The assassin nodded. “Aim higher.”

“Take over the universe! Let all tremble as they worship at your feet! Make a new species!” Paren crowed.

“Okay, Paren, calm down,” The assassin laughed. “We are getting into that ‘hunted across the universe’ territory again.

“Make a new species doesn’t sound too bad?” Edwards offered. “Why would people hunt her for that?”

“You haven’t seen her pets,” The assassin yanked him to his feet. “The next time you feel like passing out, don’t do it in the lab. Anything could happen to you.”

Carl nodded vigorously.

“Come on, Edwards,” Paren said, putting an arm around his shoulders, “Tell me, what does your heart desire? What is the secret, dirty little thought buried deep inside that you really want?”

“Uh, really?” Edwards looked at her.

“Yes!”

“I-I-I would like….”

“Go on!”

“I would like to be a little taller?” Edwards almost whispered it.

“Edwards!” Paren groaned.

“Well, I would.”

“Stick with me,” Paren rolled her eyes, “We’ll have you taking over the galaxy in no time.”

“But I don’t—”

“You don’t get to choose what you want until it is something better,” Paren crossed her arms angrily. “You’ll take over galaxies if I tell you to!”

“Yes, Paren,” Edwards sighed.

“Good boy.” Paren beamed. “Let’s get to work.”

===<<<>>>===

Nellie was getting a masterclass in ship design courtesy of a study of comparisons. Building a new type of ship was basically a series of choices, like a decision tree. The choices on offer were the solutions to various problems, as it was done in the multiple ships they controlled, or had built.

Lucy used coating A to insulate power conduits, but the Line ships used coating B. Whoever built the Ten Suns ships chose coating C. So, Nellie had the nanites construct small test conduits of each type and combination and run power tests before examining each one.

She chose an internal coating of A with an outer skin of C. It gave the best results in testing, and so the decision was made.

The same kind of testing was going on in several spheres around the main build site. Along the way, she needed more materials dropped off or similar, so she built a framework around the outside of the new new ship, connecting the testing areas as well.

When someone needed to come and give an opinion, she built a small corridor, and so on.

Before long, she had built a shipyard just one piece at a time, purely in her spare moments while waiting for tests to run.

As for the ship?

The internal layout was currently almost building itself, with the nanites following patterns already established and locked while she worked on the smaller details.

The biggest events of the day were the arrival and installation of the two massive Nano-forges.

Nellie made a mental note to START with them next time. It would have saved so much time in the long run.

Salem joined her occasionally, assisting in the construction of a new, improved version of the throne, as well as assisting in the design of the custom-made escort destroyers. Apparently, someone in one of the asteroid belt Line bases was a bit of a genius because Crush had caught some VERY interesting destroyers and brought them back. Salem and a couple of others had studied them and prepared plans for Nellie to look over.

The designs included several improvements in standard tech, allowing the shields and weapons to produce more power than they should have been capable of.

Nellie gratefully folded that into the design of the new ship while adding the new features to her own designs for the escort destroyers. She started construction of the destroyers in the Rest, and was finally able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

She was also able to estimate the final cost of the ship, which was suitably staggering.

In all, it took the resources of two capital ships, seven cruisers, and six destroyers to make the main ship, with three more cruisers being scrapped to make the six escort destroyers it would start with.

For smaller issues, she had recovered and repaired the twenty-ish orb craft while Baz, Dar, Remy, and Salem all helped to refine and improve her initial automation program, currently called the Pilot Sub-Drone.

The improved version was being uploaded to their patrol ships, now including jump capability, but most of the automated ones just did not have the computing power for more than a single micro-jump to deploy them. After that, they needed at least an hour to compute another.

For the orbs on board the new ship, it would convert them into a fighter-style ship with a snub nose and two engines that were mounted on short, thick wings. It wasn’t much, but the miniaturized rail gun tech they used and laser arrays let them pack a decent punch.

Two more days, and it would be ready for launch.

Nellie’s other big worry was the upcoming attack, which was expected to come from the jump point at the three o’clock position. If they waited for the asteroid bases' suspected location to be at their closest point, they had several more days, but Nellie was planning for them not to wait that long.

For one thing, the bases might be further along the asteroid belt than they thought, and for another, the Line had come early once, and she had no intention of letting it happen again.

Her fleet was ready to react NOW. They had been for days, but if they had another four days, the new ship would be ready for combat, and they would have time for the crew to get used to it.

She really wanted those four days.

Forcing the issue wasn’t really something they could do at the moment, but she did what they could.

Increased patrols around the jump points, ensuring the mine fields stayed fully active, and a very visible presence at each one to ensure no one tried to remove any more.

All of that was done with her disposable, automated cruisers.

The real fleet, Sparklight, The Bly, and the rest, were all kept close to the Rest. Salem and Baz were currently quartered on the Vey’s Charge, just in case.

It was all they could do for now, but if the enemy waited just four more days….