Chapter 494: The Last Fleet (2/2)
”FTL travel is hostile to life as we know it,” Huong said. ”We send a beacon first, then translate directly to the beacon.”
Smith nodded and Sma'akamo'o noted that everyone was slightly still.
”All right, let's move on. We have two-hundred sixteen worlds that need liberated, protected, or where the systems had been need to be scouted,” Smith said, her words starting slow and picking up speed as the uncomfortable feeling that Sma'akamo'o had noticed dissipated.
After about ten minutes, during that time Smith went over estimations of enemy strength, how long the Atrekna had held the system, or when the system had vanished from contact and observation, the attache leaned over and whispered to Sma'akamo'o.
”Um, how long does this go on?” the attache asked.
Sma'akamo'o checked her progress. ”Two more hours.”
She gave a frown. ”When does it get funny?”
”It doesn't. It's been carefully crafted to inform you about the overwhelming superiority of the Lanaktallan people and how culture is irrelevant and a waste of resources and that your culture, society, and people are patheticly outmatched by the Unified Council,” Sma'akamo'o said.
”Oh. I'm getting bored. Can I watch the rest later?” the attache nodded.
Sma'akamo'o nodded.
His implant threw up a picture of a lemur skeleton covered in cobwebs holding a datapad with the Lanaktallan meme still playing on it.
The meeting broke up and Sma'akamo'o realized he hadn't really been paying attention to the meeting itself, more to the wide variety of Terrans on the bridge.
He followed Admiral Smith as quietly as he could, his hooveshoes ringing on the deckplates. When they went into her office he looked around.
”Things are nervous between our peoples,” Sma'akamo'o said after Smith sat down.
”Yes. Technically we are war, but the politicians have not caught up with the reality,” Smith said.
”There is tension between yourself and the Admiral of the Ninth Terran Republic,” Sma'akamo'o said.
Smith nodded slowly. ”Is it that obvious?”
”To me,” Sma'akamo'o said.
Smith nodded again, looking grave. ”We've encountered them before. I thought the name was familiar, but the ship lines and the transports carrying conscripts in cryo-stasis confirmed it.”
Sma'akamo'o tilted his head. ”Is there a problem?”
Again Smith nodded. ”We need to get him away from any planets you want to keep and any star systems you don't want to lose, and we need to do it quickly.”
”And remind him constantly that Terra is currently under interdiction,” her attache said.
Sma'akamo'o frowned. ”What's the problem?”
”The problem is, he's a problem,” Smith said.
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Deep under The Mountain, behind the Face of Crying Anne, a woman with gunmetal gray eyes stirred slightly.
She opened her eyes, stretched, and looked around.
“Well, well, well,” she smiled.
She giggled.
She started laughing.
Then rocked back and forth, howling with glee before suddenly going silent.
She opened a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and lit it, snapping the lighter closed and tucking it away. She exhaled smoke from her nose and looked around slowly.
“Earth. What a shit-hole.”
Joshua, one of the earliest AI’s, had never been programmed to feel emotion, but now, after watching the woman laugh, he had discovered one. One that still twisted and moved through his code as he watched the woman stand up and stretch.
Fear.
He watched as she got up and moved to master control panel, quickly working.
She stopped. ”That's not right.”
”May I be of assistance?” Joshua asked.
”Get that big thug and the multiplying man in here,” Dee snapped.
”Affirmative,” Joshua answered and vanished.
Nearly an hour later Daxin and Legion entered the room, Daxin using a cloth to wipe sweat off his forehead, Legion looking slim and androgynous. Fido trotted along behind, his tongue hanging out and panting, his tail whipping side to side.
”There you two are,” Dee snapped. She turned from the computer terminal she was using.
”You seem vexed,” Legion said calmly.
Daxin just grunted and sat down in a chair, the chair creaking under his weight. Fido sat next to him and he reached out and scratched between the hound's ears.
”How much use does the mat-trans system see?” Dee asked.
Legion looked at Daxin. ”Kawaii Boyz, Neko-Marines, right?”
”Some ammunition systems with the martial orders, that's about it,” Daxin said. He folded up the rag and tucked it in a pocket. ”Mat-trans drives people bat-shit.”
Dee looked at the screen for a moment, then looked back.
”What would move gigatons of matter from one point in space to another?” Dee asked.
Legion frowned. ”None. Mat-trans was largely abandoned a long time ago. Why? Did someone use it to move that much recently?”
Dee nodded, lighting a cigarette. Legion had been around her long enough to tell that she was irritated. ”Roughly five hours ago.”
”Where?” Daxin asked, his whole body language and tone indicating he really didn't care.
”Toward the base of the spur, in Lanaktallan territory,” she said. ”Whatever system was part of it, it had an auto-synch component that linked up with the master system here.”
Daxin looked up. ”Are you talking about ships? As in spaceships?”
Dee nodded.
Legion looked at Daxin, raising one eyebrow, as Daxin stood up.
”Any headers? Any ID?” Daxin asked.
Dee motioned at the computer. ”Garbage to me. Maybe it will mean something to you?”
Daxin sat down in the chair and looked at it. After a minute he shook his head. ”No. Doesn't mean anything to me,” he looked at Legion. ”We might have a problem.”
Legion frowned, reaching out to himself where he was on the bridge of the Fleet of One. ”How?”
”Someone used mat-trans to move an entire armada down in Lanky territory. Confed doesn't use mat-trans for FTL. Too risky,” Daxin said.
”Who does?” Dee asked, her voice almost a growl.
Legion could practically see her anger at someone using the system she'd created even as he had himself run database inquiries.
Daxin spoke before Legion found the data.
”Locusts. The Locusts are back.”