They walked out into the corridor.
“You want to know why, don’t you?” Toman asked.
“You know?” she whispered harshly.
Serina stopped him in his tracks, forcing him to tell her here, before they got to the pool. He couldn’t tell whether the look in her eyes was anger or concern. Either way, it looked quite threatening.
“Nothing evil, Serina,” he assured her quietly. “The new Bolo Mark Thirty-threes have direct neuro-interfaces between the human commander and the Bolo’s neurocore. I’m sure that they were just testing out new circuitry, or finding the effects of long term connections.”
“Why do they do that?”
“The interface? Basically, during a fight you can combine the Bolo’s reaction time with the commander’s immediate decision making. So far, I hear that it’s working out quite well.”
Serina seemed to have to think about this for a moment, perhaps deciding some moral equation that she had formed. The colonel waited patiently, himself satisfied with the ethics of such experimentation, as long as the creature was not harmed significantly in the process.
When his fieldcomm suddenly buzzed again, it startled Serina.
The colonel shrugged apologetically, and reached for his belt while Serina motioned for him to follow her to the pool.
Toman spoke while he walked.
“Ishida here.”
“Update for you on the unidentified transport.” Chains’ deep voice reverberated between the tiled walls.
“Go ahead.”
“Blackstone has been attempting communications, but no response has been received.”
“Are they on alert, yet?”
“Negative. Thirty-six minutes to orbit. Vessel maintains exact course and speed of Delas’ optimal approach pattern as defined by the Concordiat Registry of Worlds.”
“Has the Aragonne left orbit yet?
“Affirmative. It jumped out three hours ago.”
Colonel Ishida stopped at the end of the corridor and turned around while Serina continued to the pool’s edge and some lawn furniture that was set there.
If this really was a private merchantman, then nothing less than extensive battle or collision damage would save its captain from Ishida personally strangling him. Without a beacon, and without working communications, no transport ever should approach an outpost colony. By the book, Blackstone should burn this transport out of the sky once it got within range. But offhand, Toman couldn’t remember ever hearing of any innocent vessels being fired on in such a manner. He had, though, heard of many vessels forced to make unannounced, emergency landings without clearance from the planet. The interstellar news always seemed to ignore how stupid it was for the planet to allow it.
“Chains,” Ishida gritted his teeth. “If Blackstone doesn’t go on full alert in twenty minutes, call me.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Wait! Even if they do go on full alert, call me.”
“Yes, Commander. Sir, should we upgrade to High Alert Status?”
“Definitely. Ishida out.”
Colonel Ishida closed his fieldcomm with an aggravated snap. How dare this captain place this planet’s security forces in such a horrible dilemma, he fumed. And to do this while the sector was on alert was inexcusable. If only for that, this transport should be flamed. He’d do it too, if given the chance.
But that decision would not be his. Once this transport was proven to be an enemy, then he would be free to act independently of the planetary government. But until that happened, until a proven threat materialized, it was Concordiat doctrine to confine its actions to the directives presented by the local government. The decision to fire would be with Blackstone Ridge, and probably General Rokoyan. Or even, perhaps, Governor Traine. Career politicians, he was sure. Incapable of the really hard decisions, no doubt. No one understood how easy it was to have their entire planet incinerated under their feet until they actually saw it happening. By that time, of course, it was too late. Toman had seen it happen twice as Melconian armadas made assaults on planets he was defending. The last time cost him almost all the 39th in a desperate exchange of fire between ground and orbit. Once an alien race decided that the planet being fought over was expendable, no commander could resist the unbelievable bang-for-buck value of a thermonuclear shower.
A feeling of despair swept over the colonel as he turned back to Serina, and the large black shape that was floating in the pool before her. He no longer grew angry at such situations as this, otherwise he could teach Miss Dahlia quite a few more phrases to add to her effective “rhetoric.” Dealing with human strengths and weaknesses had been his job for nearly fifty years, and their failures were always just part of the equation.
With a sigh, Ishida advanced to the pool to join his daughter, who was talking joyously into a small transmitter that she was holding. She’d be safe, at least. Most likely this transport really was a private merchantman in trouble, Toman assured himself. But even if it was an alien fireship full of nukes, Chains and Quarter would make sure that the twenty-kilometer radius of land surrounding him would certainly be the safest on the planet.
* * *
At last, a torrent of energy floods through my circuitry as my reactor core now burns at full intensity! My sensors come alive and expand my presence to the world around me. Feedback from a thousand senses brings to me a vivid awareness of all that moves and glows. Finally the 39th is at High Alert Status.
While Unit DBQ searches the planet for the unknown dangers, I focus my attention on the threat that is known. The intruder approaches, and I can sense the heat of its engines long before my touch finally reaches its hull. Although my sensor technology has been upgraded many times during the course of my duties, the 39th has never been furnished with the latest holistic capabilities. A far better image of this intruder could be formed by the advanced sensors onboard the orbital arrays, but Delas still has yet to activate them. These Class C-11A sensor arrays have very limited lifespans when utilized at full power for long periods of time, and Delas is obviously careful with them.
My first surprise is that the hull that I am touching is NOT made of any kind of duralloy. The hull is thicker and lighter, perhaps of some crystalline build. I note this aberration, but no conclusion can be derived from it. Moving on, I quickly search my sensor data for signs of fissionable material, a sure indicator that this ship would be meant for destruction. I am alerted as my search returns several sources of radioactive emissions, scattered within the cargo hold of the vessel. The concentrations are weapons grade material, but their few numbers and scattered locations would make it impossible to launch them as an effective first strike. Many of my threat circuits deactivate as I determine this vessel incapable of a significant planetary bombardment. Also, I sense no protective fields or screens protecting any part of this ship, nor any hull formations indicative of offensive energy weapons. I thus must believe that this vessel was not meant for warfare.
The possibility still remains, however, that this vessel is a transport that contains an alien invasion force, but its small size and lack of nuclear reactors within would indicate that it could contain few combat units that could hope to match firepower with the 39th. My sensor data is degraded with the distance that I must reach, however, and any conclusions that I would form now would be foolhardy to trust. I will continue to scan the vessel as it approaches, perhaps learning more as my senses grow stronger.
* * *
Colonel Ishida was enjoying himself.
As Serina was off changing into her bathing suit, Toman was having a long conversation with Kuro. With a cool drink beside him, he was relaxed in a comfortable chair asking the orca many questions, and answering several that Kuro had about the military and the Concordiat. He had been invited to go swimming along with them, and had indeed been tempted, but had declined. Perhaps tomorrow, he told them, though he had several fears that he would have to work out before then. For now he was satisfied to be able to say that he actually scratched an orca’s belly.
Throughout his conversation, he had been constantly reevaluating the intelligence of Kuro. His initial impression had been to speak to her as one would a twelve-year-old. But although her choice of words and some grammar was in question, he soon realized that he was severely underestimating her. Kuro’s brain had interfaced with the neurocore as it grew, integrating its capabilities with her own over thirty years. Not only did this allow her to store vast amounts of accurate imagery, it also gave her a computational capability equal to that of any modern processor.
“So why did you decide to come here instead of staying with Nautilus?” Colonel Ishida asked Kuro.
“Samson and Velvet are of a different species than I am. We did not get along.”