Close Micah Prime Orbit - Robot Federation Territory
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Something popped behind Kaya’s ear—a warble and buzz—and then stopped. She held her hand against the Memory Recovery Capsule behind her ear; it felt hot. Not warm, but hot. Her memories rushed into her head. She was about to tell the system to leave her alone, that she had a meeting with General Gorsuch. But she didn’t anymore, did she?
Or, more accurately, she already would have? She stopped in her tracks, unsure how all this worked. This is going to be a problem.
Setting aside the language of time travel for a moment, she cleared her throat. “Yes?”
[(o_o) You have new corvette upgrades available]
“Can we handle them in my quarters? I need to get freshened up.” Machine oil and dust coated her armor; it’d need a full wash, and so would she. The stench of Micah Prime was in her neoprene under-armor layer, on her skin…in her hair. She’d never be free of it. Ever.
[Of course, of course! I’ll begin assembling the necessary data for you to make the most excellent choices uwu]
“Great. Let’s go.” The lift took her out of the crowded, tiny hangar and into the Champ’s bridge. There, she saw that the corvette—and the rest of Gorsuch’s fleet—was already plotting a new course. The bridge’s window framed Micah Prime’s gorgeous ring perfectly for a moment as the ship slowly turned toward the galactic south. “The war’s not over here, is it?”
“No, ma’am, but the Republic’s put out a full call-up for Droppers. Something big’s happening near Chandra. The general’s requested our presence there.” The navigator looked up. “Ma’am, you can choose to stay here, but the general said he’s going one way or another. He’ll find a different ship if he has to.”
“Understood. Carry on. The general has strategic command of the ship. I’ll retain operational and tactical command for the time being.” She nodded, and the navigator launched a surprisingly un-sloppy salute at her. She returned it, fighting off a grin. But that only lasted until she arrived at her quarters.
The moment the door slid shut behind her, her nose wrinkled again, and she started peeling her armor off. Every piece went straight into the reconditioning unit, where, for all she cared, they could stay forever. She slowly peeled the under-armor layer off like a snake shedding its skin—not that she’d qualified for a pet license as a kid, but she’d seen vids—and hurried into the shower.
Her space wasn’t much; the Briseis-class drop corvette wasn’t a large ship, and every centimeter was jealously protected or it’d be filled with supplies. She had a bed, a desk, and a few under-bed drawers, with enough space to move between them. Luxury.
The ‘door’ to the shower was a dropcloth that circled off a bare square meter of space, half of which was filled with the waterproof toilet. Still, it was the most privacy she’d had in three years. Ceres Orbital Drop Command Academy’s showers were public, co-ed, and fully democratic. She’d gotten used to ignoring other naked bodies, both male and female, and to ignoring whether they were looking.
Retrograde backup. There was a lot to unpack there, and now that she had the time and space to think about it, she started opening the box she’d put it in for her quick walk to her quarters. The warm water soothed her cloned body’s simulated soreness, and the sound of it dripping onto the floor and draining away Micah Prime’s pollen felt focusing.
The Memory Recover Capsule and cloning. That had all been drilled into her in training. It was pretty simple; the MRC recorded a snapshot of the wearer’s brain every half-second, then sent that data to the clone bank. In the event of the user’s untimely but expected death, the clone bank wrote the memories onto a perfect replica of the user’s body and then deployed it into battle. The total downtime was down to fifteen seconds plus deployment time; typically, a Dropper would land within thirty seconds of death.
It had been developed in the aftermath of the First Orion War, when casualties among Droppers spiked to almost eighty percent. Following the MRC system’s use, mission-killed casualties dropped to near-zero, but triple and even quadruple-digit enemy-killed casualties became common.
But retrograde backup meant something different. Time travel, for one thing. She had no idea how the general, or whoever he’d gotten the Mark Two MRC from, had figured it out. It didn’t matter. Even one-way time travel had huge implications. Like the general said, she could fix her mistakes on the battlefield in real time instead of trying to dig her way out of a lethal situation with clones. But it also meant…
If I died right now, I could order the ship to stay, see what General Gorsuch did about that, and then reset again. No. Willing to die for the Republic over and over, or even letting Gorsuch murder me, isn’t the same as intentionally killing myself. That’s not part of the deal.
But whether it was part of the deal or not, Kaya’s newfound superpower did have some implications, both in and out of combat. She spent a few precious minutes running her hands over her near-clean-shaven scalp—clones didn’t come bald by default, but the under-armor suits fit better without hair, so she’d requested it. She closed her eyes and let the shower do its thing.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Even with the water running full-blast, it took her almost ten minutes—ten luxurious minutes she hadn’t had as a cadet and still wasn’t used to—to start feeling human again. The Micah Prime stink hadn’t fully disappeared when the system interrupted her.
[Lieutenant Commander Cameron, the lieutenant commander of a drop corvette often discusses their options with their squad. I can assemble them in your quarters if you want]
“Uh, no, but thank you. If you can explain what’s available, I can make the best choices for the team.” Kaya stepped into the air-blade drier, let it pass over her a few times, and pulled the regulation whites out of her drawer. Less fancy than the dress whites, they’d become her go-to for daily ship life. Satisfied that she looked appropriate to her station, she lay on the twin bed—another luxury.
“Alright, hit me. What do the Neptune factories have available?”
◄▼►
[Opening Ship Upgrade List uwu]
►Upgrade Options
►Fighter Strikes (N/A)
►Corvette Strikes (1)
►Additional 80-Millimeter Cannon (1)
►Drop-Pods (3)
►Mine-Dispersal Rover
►Supply Drop (Tactical)
►Supply Drop (Siege)
►GL-67 Puncher
►Research Upgrades (N/A)
Kaya whistled. The ship’s system had created a window in thin air and filled it with a list of items. As her eyes moved from one item to another, an image of that item appeared, along with a video about its capabilities, cost to manufacture, and role.
On the one hand, she didn’t have many options.
On the other, she didn’t know what to pick. Maybe I should have asked for some help. I wonder if General Gorsuch would be willing to lend his expertise.
No, that’d be a mistake. This was all up to her. More importantly, he’d just killed her. She’d gotten better, but she couldn’t help but feel awkward about being in a room with him for any length of time. The videos weren’t clicking for her, either. “System, can you explain my options?”
[Yes indeedy! (o_o)]
[The supply lines between the Neptune Yards and the Chandra solar system are about to be strained. A lot. So, they’ve put a one-item restriction on every ship to help with that. In the future, the Department of Logistical Affairs may reward additional choices based on merit, but only if you fill out the paperwork]
Ugh, paperwork. “So, only one, huh?”
[Only one!]
[Now, the first one’s a big upgrade to the ship’s ventral cannons. Like, 100% better! Right now, there are enough on board to support four squads, but that means one gun tasked to each team, which is what the Champ’s crew is doing right now. If you double the guns, you cut the cooldown on your barrage in half!]
“Or twice as much firepower at once?” Kaya liked where this was going. A bigger gun meant answering threats quickly, and if she’d been able to assign an 80-millimeter cannon to Specialist Rogers while still keeping one for herself, the six-legged walker would have been toast.
[Yep! The other exciting buy is the mine-dispersal rover. It lands, drops mines, and follows you around while readying another minefield. It’s equipped with three fields, covers around twenty meters with each field, and follows at thirty meters to avoid oopsies. You don’t want oopsies]
“No, I do not,” Kaya laughed. The system’s attitude was growing on her, whether she liked it or not. There were a lot of applications for a mine-laying bot, especially with her retrograde backup. But it wasn’t aggressive, and sending her squad into a battle only to have her retreat cut off by her own drone’s mines…”Pass for now.”
[Finally, the GL-67 Puncher is a semiautomatic 40-millimeter grenade launcher. It works well against massed light enemies and punches through standard body armor, but it’s not useful against mid-tier vehicle armor. The two supply drops are pretty basic, with the tactical one including ammo—custom-tailored to your team’s weapons—as well as grenades and stimulants. The siege drop is pretty similar but focused on defensive structures, like wire and pop-up barriers]
Now she knew what to pick, especially since she was heading to the galactic south next. “GL-67 Puncher. It’ll be the best, most flexible option against the cow-people. They’re swarmers, right?”
[Correct, but not as aggressively as the bugs uwu]
“Okay, Puncher grenade launcher it is. I’ll give it to Gonzales. He’ll like that, and it’ll give him something to do when he’s not fiddling with computers. What do I do to get it shipped?”
[Well, first, you’ll need to fill out the licensure application. You’ll need a GL-3/C form, an Explosive Ordinance (man-portable) requisition slip, and, of course, a triplicate copy of Release of Liability Form G0-DL1NG. Ensure you have all five of those in by the time we jump to the Chandra solar system in…oh dear!]
[Three]
[Two]
“Wait! Are you serious?” Kaya panicked, leaping for the safety of the bed.
[Dead serious uwu. One]
She didn’t make it.
The ship warped under Kaya’s feet; she hadn’t taken the proper precautions before a jump, and a series of thoughts flew through her head. Why hadn’t the alarms gone off? Why hadn’t the system warned her? Shouldn’t the lieutenant commander in charge be made aware when her drop corvette moved halfway across the galaxy?
Apparently not.
The floor finished warping, the ship stabilized, and Kaya fell onto her bed. The system screen she’d been watching her upgrade options shimmered and disappeared.
Kaya rolled off the bed, her stomach churning and throat tight. “Standard protocol is to warn people when a jump’s coming, system.”
[•`_´•]
“Yeah, I’m mad. You need to talk to me, not play games!”
[Me too! (ノ ゜Д゜)ノ ︵ ┻━┻ They gave me five seconds' warning!]
“Really? Emergency jump, then? Wonder what’s happening, and more importantly, if I can finish that paperwork before I have to deal with it.” Kaya rubbed her palms against her eyes.
[Don’t worry about the paperwork, Lieutenant Commander. I’ll find someone on board to do the parts I can’t uwu. You’ll have the launcher, even if I have to get…General Gorsuch…to initial for it! Did you know he once tore a cow dude in half with only his thumbs? Scary!]
“Well, thanks. But send it my way before it gets submitted, if you can.” Kaya brushed some suspiciously Micah Prime-colored dirt from her uniform and left the room. “Time to find out what happened.”