BEMS: Bug Eyed Monsters

 

Books by the Author:

The Wizards Series

Combat Wizard

Wizard at Work

Talent

Veil of Time

Siberian Wizard

Magic

The Darwin’s World Series

Darwin’s World

The Trek

Home

The Return

Defending Eden

 

The New Frontiers Series

The Ship

NFI: New Frontiers, Inc

NEO: Near Earth Objects

BEMs: Bug Eyed Monsters

MARS

Pirates

Terra

 

The American Southwest Series

Jacob Jennings

Edward Jennings

Edward Jennings: War and Recovery

Edward Jennings: Cattleman

The Territory

Fantasy

The Wizard's Apprentice

 

 

BEMS: Bug Eyed Monsters

Book Four, The New Frontiers Series

By Jack L Knapp

 

COPYRIGHT

BEMS: Bug Eyed Monsters

Book Four, The New Frontiers Series

Copyright © 2016, renewed 2023, by Jack L Knapp

Cover Art by Blair Howard

 

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

Disclaimer: The persons and events depicted in this novel were created by the author’s imagination; no resemblance to actual persons or events is intended.

Product names, brands, and other trademarks referred to within this book are the property of the respective trademark holders. Unless otherwise specified, no association between the author and any trademark holder is expressed or implied. Nor does the use of such trademarks indicate an endorsement of the products, trademarks, or trademark holders unless so stated. Use of a term in this book should not be regarded as affecting the validity of any trademark, registered trademark, or service mark.

 

Part One: The Kuiper Zone

 

Chapter One

Chuck Sneyd, CEO of New Frontiers, Incorporated, left his office. As usual, the weather in central Australia was warm, trending to hot. Today it wasn't an issue; he wouldn't be here long. An electric runabout was waiting. "Where to, Chuck?"

"Hangar Fourteen."

"Right you are, Mate." The driver was another of NFI's many local hires.

Panatela, one of NFI's Cigar-class freighters, had just been moved from the hangar. The pilot was waiting. He looked up inquiringly as Chuck walked up. "I'm flying copilot, Harry."

"You, Chuck? Why don't you fly as captain, I'll be your copilot!"

"Your bird, Harry. I just needed a ride, and this is the fastest way to get to Mars."

"If that's what you want. Go ahead and board; you might as well start the pre-takeoff checklist. I want a final walkaround; Panatela just finished her six-month rebuild, and you never know, the maintenance 'bots might have left a panel off or something."

"Yeah, right. But go ahead."

Chuck was ready when Harry climbed aboard. Glancing up, he checked that the green hatch indicator had lighted, then reported. "Power systems active, propulsion on standby, grav compensator set for one gee and on standby, activation is set to auto, flight computer ready. Departure sequence programmed in. Ship is sealed, I show green board."

"Thank you. I'll just double-check a couple of things and we'll be on our way. You in a hurry?"

"No, the usual three gravities acceleration is fine."

"Thank you. Checks complete. Lifting at this time."

Panatela drifted up, clearing the cradle, then drifted away from the hangar. Moments later, drives whining their faint, high-pitched song, the ship lifted. As it passed the hangar roof, the nose began to rise as the big ship accelerated away from Base Australia.

Curving upward, nose now pointed skyward at an eighty-degree angle, the drives went to full power. The gravity compensator kicked in, holding the gravity at a steady one gee. Behind them, the buildings of Base Australia shrank, then faded into the background. Still accelerating, Panatela passed through the upper atmosphere.

As the light faded, her hull took on the characteristic glow of a ship under matrix drive. Chuck glanced at the display screen that stretched across the cabin's front. A yellow blip showed near the right edge of the radar monitor. "Permission to activate the starboard wing camera, Skipper? I'd like a look at that orbital fort."

"Go ahead. Proud of it, are you?"

"My guys are. They put it where it is."

"Your idea, Chuck. Your money, too. Is that the one that's going to the North American Alliance?"

"When construction is finished," Chuck said absently. The image of the distant rocky asteroid drifted into the middle of the screen. Raw wounds showed where construction workers had emplaced the power and propulsion systems. Only the aft control bridge was visible; the forward bridge was hidden in front of what would eventually be an orbital fort, one of six.

"My ship," said Harry.

"Your ship, Skipper," agreed Chuck, stretching. "I'm going to make coffee. Want some?"

"I could use a cup, thanks." Conversation lagged after that. Chuck sipped at his coffee and thought about his trip.

Much needed to be done before the task force left. There would be no opportunity for a do-over; it was headed for the outer solar system, to the region called the Kuiper Zone. Lewis and Clark would have understood, Chuck thought. The still-young United States had once faced a similar dilemma, not knowing what was beyond their border.

Today he was meeting with the admirals who would command the task force, the only one Earth had. It was on its way to the outer solar system, the region called the Kuiper Zone, to search for whatever might be out there.

Almost nothing was known about the area that lay beyond the orbit of distant Neptune. Pluto was there, as were a number of other planetoids; some had names, some had not yet been so honored. The Kuiper Zone also contained the Oort Cloud, the home of comets. The drifting blobs of ice might, in time, move in close enough to be grabbed by Sol's gravity. Then the night sky would take on a new and dramatic appearance as the comet blazed its way in and passed around the sun before heading out again, fading as it cooled.

There might be something else out there, something of more significance. Some believed the mysterious Flickers, the extraterrestrials who had placed the six mammoth asteroids around Earth, had a hidden base out in the Kuiper Zone.

The task force had been formed to find out.

***

Arrival was routine. They floated Panatela into the hangar, parked it on the cradle, and shut down the propulsion system. While they were doing this, hanger crewmen sealed the hangar and pressurized it. Chuck ran through the post-flight checklist with the Harry, switched the power supply to standby, and looked inquiringly at him.

"We're done for now, Chuck, thanks. We're supposed to pick up a cargo in four hours, although I suppose you could change that if you wanted. After all, you're the boss." He grinned at Chuck, who grinned back.

"Let's try to make the schedule," Chuck said. "I'll be back in two hours, three at the most, and if there's an unavoidable delay I'll comm you."

Harry nodded and Chuck left the ship. He hung his vacuum suit in one of the hangar's lockers, then glanced at his communicator for directions. Today's meeting would be held in the room normally reserved for the Interplanetary Commerce Commission.

John, NFI's administrator and de-facto governor of Mars, had displayed a bit of Machiavellianism. He, Chuck, and a very few others knew the conference room was equipped with carefully-concealed bugs. Most ICC meetings were boring, but sometimes they were very interesting indeed!

***

Admirals Willem Wendell and Marcus Senter waited at the long table. They interrupted their conversation as Chuck walked in. "Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen."

"Good to see you, Chuck." said Admiral Wendell. "We're going to need your help."

"I'll do what I can, of course. I must say, your new uniforms look good."

"I liked my old US Navy uniform. I had to swap that for the NAA uniform, now this!" Admiral Senter's tone was sour.

"The new one is better suited for space," Chuck explained patiently. "The vac suit fits over the shipsuit, what I'm wearing now," he gestured at his own uniform, "meaning it's very utilitarian. Anyway, the North American Alliance and the United Nations of Earth have signed on, so the discussion is moot."

"So where's your uniform, Captain? You're a rated command pilot and you fly NFI's ships from time to time."

"I do. Matter of fact, I traveled on a company ship to get here, as copilot. I did it as a courtesy to the ship's regular captain. You also fly, don't you? Destroyers, maybe others?"

"We do. So what?"

"NFI, which is to say me, owns more than half the ships in the task force. I'll have to see what insignia a fleet admiral wears."

Admiral Wendell was openly grinning. "He's got you there, Marcus! You didn't think you'd get away with this, did you?"

Admiral Senter grinned back. "Hey, if he wants to be a captain and fly ships..."

"I don't have time for this," Chuck said, his patience exhausted. "Let's get to what you wanted to talk about. I'm meeting John as soon as we're done, but you implied that you have concerns about the task force?"

"Yes. Marcus can explain; he's come up with several good ideas," Admiral Wendell said.

"Call me Chuck, Marcus. What's your idea?"

"My destroyers have a problem, Chuck. They search for twenty-four hours, then have to find a ship that kept moving after they flew away, and the only way to do that is steer for where they expect the ship to be. There are no reference points out where we're going, so they have to steer for an undefined point in space."

"It shouldn't be a problem," Chuck countered. "The destroyers have radars and radios. Both work better out there because there's less static and virtually no interference. If a carrier has to change course, just notify the destroyers. Their computers will keep track of the changes and plot a new intercept point. The points aren't defined as they are on Earth or Mars, but they should be able to use their carrier itself as a reference. Plot its relative position in three dimensions, the usual x, y, and z axes, enter the base course, update with changes and let the computer generate the intercept."

"It won't be that easy, Chuck. If we're going to do even a cursory search, we'll have to spread the destroyers, mostly Crane models, over a wide volume of space. We're talking distances of a light-second between units, roughly 300,000km. Destroyer radar antennas are optimized for targeting; they can't do wide-area acquisition searches."

"That far? But if the task force steers for a predicted point...?"

"Suppose the tactical situation forces us to change course? What if we need to maneuver to evade an object? We don't know what we're going to find, that's why we're going. We have to consider all possibilities." Admiral Senter paused, watching to make sure that Chuck understood the point he was making. "As for the tactical situation, what will the Flickers do? Considering that warning message they gave us when they emplaced the moonlets, we have to be prepared for hostilities. I know, we don't know they're even there, much less how they'll react, We can't assume they'll welcome us with open arms. Or open tentacles, whatever. What if we have to go radio-silent because the carriers are trying to avoid detection? Willem is responsible for the task force, but I've got my two carriers to worry about. They're it, everything we've got as far as the North American Alliance is concerned. What I'm saying is that I may not be there to meet the Cranes when they come looking."

Chuck sat back. "My twins will be out there. Bobby's commanding Apollo, but Robbie will be flying one of Enterprise's Cranes."

"You've worried about two people, Chuck, I've got hundreds. Cranes can't carry supplies for longer cruises. I'm talking about things like oxygen, water, food, hydrogen for their drones. There's just not enough cubage on board for extended trips. Scrubbers can remove carbon dioxide, but they can't convert it back to oxygen, and destroyer oxy tanks are good for up to thirty-six hours. That's longer than they'll be deployed, but nowhere near enough to reach Mars. We're talking an average of more than five light-hours flight time from the inner edge of the Kuiper Zone to the nearest permanent human base, and depending on where the task force is, it can be much farther. Don't forget, Mars is moving too."

"There's not much we can do, Marcus," Chuck protested. "The flight training school has been working on extending destroyer cruising ranges, but we can't just make destroyers bigger! Rich Grant, he's the project manager, has tried. The berthing decks on your carriers already stow the maximum number of destroyers, and they're really crammed in tight. We'd have to rebuild our Saucers, your carriers too, because both use the same design specs. It might not even be possible; we're building at the limit of human materials science.

"Composites, kilo for kilo, are stronger and more rigid than metals, but we've only scratched the surface. Eventually, we'll figure out how to create stronger frame and hull materials, but even then we won't know how long it will take before those materials become available in commercial amounts. The Flickers can build giant ships, we can't."

Chuck shrugged. "It's unfortunate. Smaller ships don't have enough cubage for long voyages, meaning ships have to be bigger, but bigger ships are more expensive as well as less maneuverable. We've gone as far as we can unless there's a breakthrough."

"We've come up with three possible solutions, Chuck," Admiral Senter said. "Destroyer wings have hardpoints for up to sixteen drones. If we remove two and hang supply pods in their place, it extends cruise time by almost twenty hours. The pods aren't powered or armed, they just carry consumables. Pods have the same mass as the drones they replace, so balance isn't a problem. We might go to four consumables-pods later, but right now we think two will be enough.

"We're looking at two configurations; one has tanks for gases, the other contains dry stores. 'Dry' pods also carry water, but it was either that or call it the 'everything else' pod." The men shared a chuckle. "The second option follows from that; we propose to leave emergency supply dumps in solar orbit behind the task force. We think ten pods per dump would be enough, although we can increase that number if needed. They'd have the same velocity as the task force, so they'll follow in orbit but fall behind because they're not under acceleration. The dumps increase the task force's overall consumption of supplies, but you already intend to resupply us under-way. Instead of a Cigar-load of supplies, send out a Giant." Marcus paused to let Chuck absorb the information. "The dumps will have powerful radio beacons. A lost ship won't have a problem finding them. If they attract Flicker attention, so much the better! Let them poke around the dumps; while they're doing that, they're not snooping around the task force."

"Approved. I'll find the money somehow. One dump, enough to replenish five destroyers, dropped off every twenty-four cruising hours?"

"That's what we're thinking. Relieving the destroyers after a twenty-four-hour deployment looks like the most efficient system, considering cruise time limitations and the need for crew rest. A destroyer that couldn't find its carrier would home on the dump's beacon, swap empty pods for full ones, head for the one that's two days behind, and repeat."

"Okay, but so what? They still won't have the legs to reach Mars. Is that all of it?"

"I also want to put unmanned ships in orbit around the outer planets. I'm calling them Outposts for now."

"It's as good a name as any," Chuck agreed. "Keep talking."

"Each Outpost should be capable of supporting ten destroyer crews for up to fourteen days. That's thirty people and four hundred twenty man-days. One of your Cigars has the cubage to store supplies for that many."

"How did you arrive at that number?" asked Chuck.

"It will take the Neptune Outpost about fourteen days to reach Mars, depending on where the two planets are in orbit. If there are more than thirty people needing rescue or Mars is too far, the Outpost should be able to reach the next planet sunward. If something disastrous happens, one Outpost could support twice as many people for half as long, longer if they're on short rations, and by then, we would hope that Mars would have sent a rescue squadron. They would consist of your ships, of course."

"Kind of got myself into a bind, didn't I? None of us saw this coming," Chuck remarked. "NFI has the only ships big enough, so okay. If necessary, NFI will use every asset we've got to support your task force."

Admiral Senter continued, "Think of the Outposts as a cross between oversized lifeboats and Swiss rescue huts. They won't have to remain in planetary orbit, that's where the lifeboat analogy comes in, but it means they'll need functional power plants and drives. If necessary, an Outpost can break orbit and meet the rescue squadron halfway. Parking them around the giant planets solves another problem. The Kuiper Zone doesn't have landmarks, but the outer planets are always going to be easy to find." Finished, he leaned back and waited.

"You're talking about four Outposts, four fully-stocked Cigar-class ships that won't be earning a return on billion-dollar investments, and NFI's ships will also be screening your task force. Toss in that you're planning to use one of my Giant-class freighters as your formation's rally ship. Your problem is that your carriers can't support a wing of destroyers while they snoop around the outer solar system, which means the task force can't operate without a dedicated ferry operation, which is to say without more of my ships. Giants would have the necessary cubage, but every one that's drawn off to support the task force is a ship that's not earning return on investment. Billions of dollars in investment.

"My problem is that I don't know how I'm going to come up with the money. We just don't have that many ships, and I can't afford to buy more. NFI is essentially broke, Admiral. It's actually worse than that, I'm in debt up to my eyebrows." Chuck sighed and shook his head. "I don't know if I can do it. I've already had to cut cargo runs by half, meaning we just don't have the cash flow."

"Your Giants haul pod trains in addition to their internal cargoes, right?"

"Right. But a ship can't control a mass greater than itself."

"You're still manufacturing impellers, aren't you? And Japan is still producing SMRs, the Small Modular Reactors?"

"Yes; the orbital forts use both. Why?"

"Suppose you equip your trains with impellers? Make the pod train as big as you need to, add impellers as necessary, install one or more SMRs for power. The ship only needs to control the train. You could use the same system when delivering supplies to the task force. One ship, even one of your Cigars, could easily control trains carrying a month's consumables. Your next generation ships might actually be smaller, not larger! Think space-going tugs that control trains of self-propelled barges."

"That might just work." Chuck mused. "Link the trains to the freighter, use control cables backed up by radio guidance? And a simple flight computer on each train. You wouldn't want a runaway cargo train heading for Earth or Mars, so slave the train's computer system to the ship, but with a fail-safe backup. If control is lost, the flight computer would park the train in solar orbit for later pickup. I need to run this through engineering, but off the top of my head I think we could make it work. I'll still have to replace the ships we're losing, but the idea of small guidance-only ships seems promising. Is that it?"

"Well, you already know about Bobby's astrogation system."

"I'll get it built, eventually, but it will be horribly expensive and won't ever earn back the investment. Over time it will save money and lives, so I'll just have to find a way. Is that it?"

The admirals nodded, neither wanting to add to what had been said.

"Thank you, gentlemen. I've got that meeting with John, then I'm due to head back to Earth. If there's more, send me a memo. I'll do what I can."

Chuck shook hands with the admirals and walked out of the room.

"Good man, Willem. I don't know how he handles it all."

" He's worried. Did you notice the bags under his eyes?"

"Yeah, he's wearing himself out. Can he do what he says? If he can't, we'll be depending on a bunch of politicians. You know how I feel about politicians; dependable they're not, and we're going to be a long way out at the end of a thin supply line. "

"I trust Chuck, he'll find a way. If he doesn't kill himself first."

***

John poured Chuck a cup of coffee as soon as he walked into the office. "You look tired."

"I'll sleep on the way back. You heard our conversation?"

"Sure. The bugs have come in handy again."

"Just don't let anyone find out! What's on your mind?"

"Couple of things. NFI is going to be invited to join the UNE Executive Council."

"It makes sense; we fly more ships than anyone else, bigger ships too. We're almost a nation already. The Executive Council doesn't control space, we do, and they know it. We also own the orbital forts, at least until someone pays us for the conversions."

"You're right, but things are going to change. You need to be ready."

"What are you talking about?" asked Chuck.

"They're inviting you in because right now, NFI is the biggest dog in the pack. But give it a few years and there are going to be a lot of big dogs, some as big as NFI, and in a much-expanded pack. You transferred a complete tech suite to the two NAA carriers, didn't you? Fusion torches for power, matrix drives for propulsion, gravity compensators and state of the art flight control systems?"

"Well, I had to! We need those carriers. We have to assume the Flicker ships are out there, and Enterprise and Falcon can't stop them. Without the NAA carriers, we'd be taking a paring knife to what may turn out to be a gunfight, but they carry Nelsen-class destroyers with nuclear-armed Penetrators."

"Just so. But Morty and Frenchy are full-up starships. They've got the legs to reach Centaurus, as well as the Kuiper Zone. If there was a reason, I mean. And now that the North American Alliance has access to the technology, there's nothing to stop them from building more starships."

"Okay, but so what?"

"So some of Morty's and Frenchy's crew are Mexican and Canadian. They're part of the North American Alliance, but they still retain national identity. Within a decade, expect to see US, Mexican, and Canadian freighters competing with our ships. NFI's monopoly is done."

"I knew it would happen when I agreed to swap technology with the NAA," Chuck confessed. "It was going to happen anyway, sooner or later, and I needed those carriers now."

"I agree, but now we have to look to the future. NFI's membership on the EC will be temporary, Chuck. As soon as other ships begin competing with yours, the Executive Committee won't need NFI. Maybe." John sat back, waiting.

"I hadn't considered that. For that matter, I didn't expect to even have a rep on the EC. But you said maybe?"

"I did. We have an ace in the hole, Chuck. Mars."

"Mars?"

John picked up a small dark-blue booklet. "This is yours. I've got one like it, and there's one for Lina too. Within a month, I'll have one for every resident of Mars and probably most of the miners in the Belt."

"It looks like a passport. But this is NFI's logo on the cover!"

"It is. It's also the logo of Sovereign Mars."

"What are you talking about? When did this happen?"

"It hasn't, not officially. I conducted a survey, then circulated a petition, very quietly. Do we apply for nation-status? Every adult signed off on it. As soon as I had that, I prepared an application for membership in the UNE. I'm holding it in abeyance now, but as soon as I think the time is right, I'll submit the paperwork. Bottom line, Chuck, we're already a nation. No Earth-based government exercises jurisdiction here, and Martians like it that way."

"You've thought this over, haven't you? Why wasn't I told?" Chuck's tone wasn't so much angry as concerned.

"You were. I sent you a memo more than a month ago, but I never got a response. Which is why I asked for this meeting."

"I never saw it!"

"I sent it, classified of course, and your comm center acknowledged receipt." John shrugged. "It's probably locked in a safe at your headquarters. Not a big deal. You know about it now, so there's time enough to read it when you get back to Australia. Nothing official has been done yet, other than that survey and preparing the petition I mentioned. But I'll have to do this sometime in the future. Those competing ships I mentioned, some will be Canadian or Mexican, but there will be others. There are almost certainly spies on those ships right now. Some will be working for the Russians, others the Chinese. There will be other companies out here. There's money to be made, and now the genie is out of the bottle."

Chuck suddenly looked weary and old. "NFI is done, then. Or at least, no longer that big dog you mentioned."

"Yeah," John agreed. "You can't protect secrets forever, Chuck."

"I know, although I can't say I ever thought about it in those terms." Chuck sighed. "Is that it?"

"Not quite. Some of those foreign ships will land on Mars. Right now, Mars is open to all comers."

"Oh, ho! Settlements, you think? Build their own refineries, use Mars as a jumping-off point to the Belt?"

"Count on it. And when they land, I intend to welcome them with a government that's already in place and friendly, to a point. So long as they're friendly and cooperative, Mars won't hassle them, but we will not tolerate national issues or problems. We own Mars, in practical terms. By we, I mean the company, but also the Martians who live here full time. I intend to keep it that way; Mars will never be a colony of any Earth nation. When Earth's nations remove NFI from the Executive Council, I intend to replace the company with sovereign Mars." Finished, John leaned back.

Chuck hid his astonishment. Where did that come from?

When did John change from being a loyal employee of NFI to a nation-builder?

***

Huge stars and clusters of stars poured their energy into space, creating a twilit region. Even so, the object heading away from those distant stars created a glow noticeably brighter than the background.

The intense glow faded, revealing an object. The ends were rounded, the hull smooth. Not a true cylinder, one end was half again larger than the other.

A second ship appeared and matched course with the first. The two flew on, side by side for a time.

Their glows brightened, then pulsed, a ring of dimness beginning at the smaller end and passing rapidly down the hull. Another ring formed, its progress creating an impression of movement. The pulsations sped up and the flickering synchronized. The glows brightened, then vanished.

The twilight returned, leaving no sign that two ships had ever been there.

 

Chapter Two

Chuck boarded Lina II and settled into the pilot's seat. Lina took the copilot's seat and activated the before-departure checklist.

Their guests today were the presidents of the North American Alliance and the South American Union. They had come to visit the Red Planet and view the departure of Earth's only deep-space task force.

What would it find? Did the Flickers really have a base in the solar system? If so, were they hostile, or merely protective of their orbiting beacons? The ships could easily have launched their massive cargoes toward Earth, wiping out most higher forms of life, but instead, had delivered the Flickers' warning and a challenge in the form of six enormous moonlets floating around Earth. Humanity had to somehow stabilize their orbits, or they would begin to fall toward the surface. And no one had known how much time they had.

But then, NFI engineers, working under Chuck's direction, had bolted impellers and small modular nuclear reactors directly to the rocky surfaces, making it relatively simple to move the one-time asteroids into stable high orbits. The next step would be to make them into self-propelled orbiting forts, the most heavily armed objects ever to fly in Earth's sky. The moonlets would soon protect the planet they had once threatened.

***

The twins, now grown, would be gone for at least a year, making the departure bitter-sweet. Lina suppressed her sobs, but not the tears, and Chuck's eyes were also suspiciously bright. Would they ever see their children again?

Lina's daily life had revolved around the children while they were growing up. Now they were leaving, the twins to the edge of interstellar space, Ellyn to NFI's university in New Mexico. Chuck was often away as well, making the pain worse. Lina faced an empty nest, an empty house, and an empty life. Chuck, at least, had his work. She had nothing.

The voyage to Earth was made in near silence. Perhaps their guests understood what Chuck and Lina were going through.

***

The President of the North American Alliance deplaned last. When he'd gone, Chuck turned to Lina. "You're sure you want to do this? I don't like the idea of us living apart."

"I'm sure. We don't have neighbors, I don't really know the people in Brisbane, and I can't stand the thought of that empty house! I think we should sell it. I want to go home. The twins...Chuck, we may never see them again! Ellyn's all I have left, I want to be there if she needs me. The New Mexico house is ready, it's hard to tell the new construction from the old. I flew there last week and met the staff, and they're nice. Ellyn will be at school during the week, but she'll spend weekends with me. It was our home once, it can be again."

"The house needed work," Chuck agreed. "That's not the only new construction, the university itself is only two years old, and the campus begins where the old hangar used to be. The factory is also back in operation, only one shift for now, but I can add more if needed. One difference, the old landing strip is now part of the flight school."

"It's a busy place," Lina agreed. "Ellyn will be in school during the week, so there's no reason for me to stay home. I'm not ready for a rocking chair, so I'm going to look around for something to do."

"You might be able to teach," Chuck said doubtfully. "The university is a subsidiary of NFI, so you can do pretty much what you want."

"I thought of that, but they don't have a full-fledged architecture program. They have a familiarization course that's part of the civil engineering track, but that's all. Anyway, my degree is years out of date. But I'm a pretty good pilot, so maybe I can do something along that line. Ellyn will be learning to fly later on, so I could see her then. She's the last, Chuck; we can't have more children and I don't even have a dog, just the staff that takes care of the house!"

"Well, if you wanted you could..."

"I don't want a dog! I want a meaningful job!"

They were silent for long minutes. Finally, Chuck said that he understood, but Lina could tell from his voice that he didn't. She sighed. "You could come with me, Chuck."

"I can't." He shrugged helplessly. "Everything I do is centered around Base Australia. I can't just pick up and move, and as for the staff, Australia is their home. They wouldn't want to move, I really can't ask them to, and I can't afford the disruption of finding replacements. I also can't tell a President or the Secretary General to call back, not now, because the Flickers will be back. They invested a lot of time and money building that astrogation system. They sent a maintenance drone, showing that they're still using the system. We've got to be ready, and I'm the only one who can do what has to be done."

"I don't like it, you know that, but I guess I understand." Lina's tone was bitter. "The company has grabbed you just like it grabbed my father! It ruined his health and if you don't slow down, it will kill you just like it eventually killed him."

"I exercise when I can," Chuck said, his voice defensive. He realized he'd been on the defensive since the conversation began. "I'll be able to retire eventually, and when I do I'll spend more time with you. The kids will take over someday, but not yet because they're still too young, too unseasoned. They need experience, but maybe by the time they get back, things will be different. Bobby is captain of Apollo, he's also the task force's chief astrogator, and that's the kind of job he needs. It's a lot of responsibility for a young man."

"Will it be enough, Chuck? The heads of state you deal with are old men for the most part, and stubborn. And what about Robbie?"

"Robbie will be a captain just as soon as Willem thinks she's ready. She's been flying destroyers since she soloed, and she picked up bootleg time before that. There was no real chance of stopping her, so I let her go ahead. I passed the word to the school's commandant to keep an eye on her—she was using the school's destroyers, after all—and he assigned his best instructor to work with her after hours. I also had a security team protecting her while she was dirtside.

"Anyway, Willem is lucky to have her and he knows it, because she trained his destroyer crews. She'll also be involved in whatever they do, scouting, or if it comes to that, combat. He wants her to command the wing if that happens. He paused, remembering. "She loves flying destroyers. They're the most responsive, most flexible craft in space. If there's a drawback, it's their 'legs'; they can't carry enough consumables. There's also not much room to move around. For creature comforts, all they've got is a tiny compartment for sanitation and a small galley. Rich Grant tried making more room by moving the drives outside on pylons, but then the wings couldn't fully retract."

"So why isn't Robbie already a captain? She deserves it!"

"It's the American, Admiral Senter. He's got problems dealing with the US Congress, what's left of it, or maybe it's coming from the North American Alliance; I sometimes forget they're not the same thing nowadays. It has something to do with their nuclear weapons. As I understand it, the US laws were never changed when they joined Mexico and Canada to form the Alliance. By law, control is supposed to be in the hands of US citizens, but technically there aren't any. Anyway, Robbie's already a full commander in temporary command of the wing and as soon as the admirals agree, she'll be a captain."

"They seem so young, Chuck." Lina's voice was wistful.

"They are, and they're not. They've not only been in space longer than their contemporaries, they've done things. Bobby designed most of the new SPSS astrogation system, which I'll start building as soon as I can come up with the money. Robbie has more command-pilot destroyer hours than anyone, plus she was the one that recovered Voyager One. Sure, they got a leg up because they're our children, but they've built solid reputations. That's the big reason they won't have problems getting people to do things; Robbie could be a junior ensign and the destroyer skippers would still do what she said. They know she'll keep them safe if anyone can.

"As for experience, both of them sailed on Enterprise, and now they're going to send their Cranes out into the Big Dark searching for something that may not even be there. That's what Enterprise did, and Bobby and Robbie were part of her crew. Willem Wendell was her captain and he, Raj, and Bobby were the team that made sure Robbie and the others could find their way home. Failure would have meant slow death, but now, with the new arrangements that Willem, Marcus, and I worked out, that won't be the case." Chuck thought back to his own early years. "I was still a kid when I got sent off to war, Lina, but I had responsibilities. That's the same task Willem has handed Robbie and Bobby, being responsible for the lives of others."

"But you weren't in command," Lina objected.

"No, but I was the guy with the radio! The lieutenant and the gunny made most of the decisions, but they trusted me to carry them out. I called in the choppers to lift out casualties, called for the reaction force when we got ambushed, and when I wasn't doing that, I fired my M4 along with the others when the Muj got ambitious. The twins have more responsibility, I'll grant you that, but they've also got more help. Another difference, we had bounties on our head."

Lina was shocked. "You never told me that!"

Chuck shrugged. "They offered bounties for marines, special-ops people too. It wasn't that big of a deal."

"But the twins might end up facing bug-eyed monsters shooting death rays!"

"You can get just as dead from a bullet, Lina!

"They'll be all right. We don't know that the Flickers have bug eyes, and if they have death rays we've never seen them. They might not even be there, although I think they are. I know there have been unexplained flashes that ruined telescope film exposures, but we don't know that the failures were caused by Flicker drive glows. We also don't know they weren't. Anyway, that's Base New Mexico up ahead. We'll be met when we land."

"Want to come by and see what I've done with the house?"

Chuck glanced at his communicator, which displayed Greenwich time as well as Mountain Standard Time. "Sure. Will Ellyn be there?"

"Not until this weekend. You could see her then, if you can find time for a visit."

"I'll see what I can do."

Lina was disappointed, but she realized that putting more pressure on Chuck was not a good idea. "If you can't make it we'll understand. Ellyn misses her dad."

"I miss her too. I also miss being with you."

Lina, usually attentive, missed the loneliness. Immersed in her own sadness, she was thinking about how she would explain to Ellyn why Chuck managed to get home so rarely. Maybe it wouldn't be necessary. Ellyn was perceptive, but even so she'd have to keep an eye out. It wouldn't do to let Ellyn get the idea her father wasn't interested in his youngest daughter. If Lina wondered whether he was still interested in her, the thought was quickly suppressed.

***

Chuck's communicator chimed as Lina II landed; the caller was the Secretary General of the UNE. Chuck tapped his communicator, accepting the call. After an exchange of greetings, the S-G said, "I'm happy to convey to you the invitation of the UNE for NFI to join the Executive Council. Do you have a representative who can speak for your company?"

"Thank you, Mister Secretary-General. How about my assistant, Mark Triffin? He's had extensive experience in international relations. He's meeting with the presidents of the North American Alliance and the South American Union tomorrow, a discussion regarding the orbital forts, but I'll send him to meet with you as soon as he returns."

"Mister Triffin will be an asset to your company as your representative. Congratulations, Mister Sneyd. The Executive Council has never extended such an invitation before, but of course your company is unique."

"Thank you again, Mister Secretary-General."

"If you'll forgive me, Mister Sneyd, I must cut our conversation short. Perhaps you might drop in when you're next in Europe? I would like your opinion on the charter for the Central Bank. You may also wish to comment on our intention to convert to a standard currency, the UNE dollar."

"I look forward to it, Sir."

 

Chapter Three

"That's all? Only a hundred Breadcrumbs?"

"Production will go faster, now that we've got molds for casting the shells and the modules are arriving on schedule. Testing is faster too since we standardized the process. We'll have another thousand units ready to ship by the time the task force needs them, and by the time they deploy that thousand we'll have more."

Hopefully, the supply runs would get the Breadcrumbs to the task force on time. Chuck signed the memorandum of understanding, one of several waiting on his computer's desktop, and brought up the next memo which dealt with the early warning detector satellites.

The Breadcrumbs might save lives, but setting up the line of detectors was at least as important. The taskforce's destroyers would search the near region of the Kuiper Zone, but the detectors would continue to scan space long after the ships had gone on their way.

Benjamin Counter knew how important both programs were, but he was, once again, fretting at the mounting expenses. The Breadcrumbs were only a part of the company's soaring costs, and not even the most expensive ones at that. New ships were being built, and with each production goal met, the contracts required NFI to make payments as they were met. Research expenses, including research on the new astrogation system, also had to be paid. So far, research was the only tangible result; none of the satellites had been delivered.

There was also the matter of converting older Cigar-class ships to Outposts. They had already been paid for, so the only new expense was modifying them and tasking other ships to periodically check their status. The fact that Robbie might need them ensured that Chuck never considered abandoning the idea. Easiest and cheapest solution, remove the newer drives and power supplies; impellers and SMRs would work just as well, because the Outposts might need to bring lost crews to Mars, not to a distant sun. The Outposts could also do without gravity compensators.

Costs of the Outposts and the supply dumps, while not negligible, gave admirals Wendell and Senter the freedom to maneuver the task force. Considered in that light, the safety system was cheap insurance. Best of all, as soon as new hulls were ready, the salvaged matrix drivers, fusion torches, and grav compensators could be immediately installed. Only the hulls and electronic suites would have to be paid for.

Converting the orbiting asteroids into fortresses had not been cheap, and so far, none of the prospective 'owners' had offered to offset what the company had spent. R&D costs to develop the 25cm planet-grade lasers and 10cm railguns had fallen on NFI, as had the costs of building manufacturing facilities. And after that, NFI had paid to manufacture the weapons and mount them on the orbiting moonlets The police cruisers would never pay; they were a cost the company had agreed to absorb in earlier, more prosperous times, and there was also the not-inconsiderable expense of operating NFI's Universities and Academies.

As a result, NFI had gone from being immensely wealthy to immensely indebted. Worse, most of the costs would never be recovered. The new ships bought to replace the Outposts would eventually earn back NFI's investment; the company would have to absorb everything else.

If it could.

Chuck understood Ben's concerns, but he had no choice; he would simply have to deal with matters as they occurred, which included making loan payments when they came due. Somehow, he would have to raise money to bridge the current crisis. Chuck sighed. The company would survive, but it would never again be the economic colossus it had been. Bottom line, NFI owned its ships outright, and also owned patents covering the impellers, matrix drives, fusion torch generators, the improved shipboard gravity compensators, and de facto ownership of Mars gave the company economic control over the asteroid belt. Not to mention that miners spent considerable time on the planet between prospecting trips, generating enough cash flow to keep Mars solvent. Long term, the company's financial survival was assured.

Short term? NFI was overextended.

What to do? NFI's ships were still earning money, the ones not involved with the task force or being repurposed as Outposts.

The company was bleeding cash, and there were few options Chuck could exercise. Nations could finance projects and accept losses, because they could raise money by taxation or create money by fiat. Eventually, NFI might do the same after establishing the independent Martian government that Chuck and John had discussed, but it was too soon for that. Transport Division profits were half what they had been, but the refinery was profitable. Indeed, the latest refinery run had produced unusual amounts of silver, a positive development because the printed-circuit industry was happy to buy all NFI had to sell.

Nice, but it was no more than a drop in the financial bucket.

Sell off assets? No, that was an absolute last resort, to be undertaken only if necessary to stave off bankruptcy.

Take the company public? That would generate an enormous amount of cash, but where would they register the company, Mars? Before that happened, Chuck would convert NFI into a holding company. The more he thought about it, the better Chuck like the concept. Separating operating divisions into semi-independent entities would protect NFI itself from bankruptcy.

Register New Frontiers Manufacturing and Sales as a separate company? New Frontiers Transportation, New Frontiers Mining and Refining, and New Frontiers Waste Disposal were also separate-company possibilities. They were currently divisions, so spinning them off shouldn't be difficult. Perhaps even a high-risk company like New Frontiers Emerging Ventures?

Investors would gladly accept the financial risks of exploring the moons of Jupiter and Saturn, wouldn't they? Wave the success of NFI's Mars operations under their noses, mention they could do much the same on Ganymede or Titan—yes, they would definitely be interested. Best of all, it didn't involve selling off current assets, only future possibilities. Chuck tapped notes into his laptop. This might be an option, but it would endanger future profits.

There had to be a better way.

Current financial problems, while severe, were in the long run temporary. NFI was solid; it could weather this crisis as it had others. The thing to do was cut back where possible and ride out the current period of uncertainty, but what to cut? The things Ben complained about were needed.

But how to raise money now? Chuck needed cash to maintain some semblance of the status quo.

Charge more in royalties for NFI's patents? Possible, but not good. It might discourage nations and private companies from investing.

Go ahead with the application for sovereignty, then lease space on Mars? Perhaps even contract with other nations to build habitats? Possible, if there was interest. But having the only operating refinery on Mars was a literal gold mine. The nations would set up their own refineries, use their own freighters, even begin attracting visits from miners who needed a break from lonely prospecting trips. Conclusion: more settlements would be good for humanity, bad for NFI.

Settlements would happen without company involvement at some point, but for now the timing was poor. Short term, more income; long term, less income and possibly even losses.

He was left with two options. Issue corporate bonds for one or more of the company's divisions? He put a check by this, and a question mark. License the drives, power plants, and gravity compensator? NFI's monopoly would end at some point anyway, because knowing something was possible was half the battle. So sell the technology now, knowing it would mean reduced profits in the future? The USA's two carriers, Morty and Frenchy, already had the complete package. Inevitably, just as John had predicted, the knowledge would spread.

Sell complete state-of-the-art starships? There was a better option; lease them, and include maintenance and repair as part of the package. That would help to protect NFI's secrets a bit longer, and it would generate immediate cash flow. Down payments on leases could pay for hulls, which could be built on Earth. Finland had the manufacturing capability, as did Germany, the USA, and Canada, so competition should keep prices under control. Subassemblies were already being purchased from several Asian nations. NFI's fusion torch, matrix drive, and gravity compensator factories were on Mars, so assembling the ships there made sense. It would mean transporting the hulls to Mars by installing temporary systems, but that wasn't a problem. The factory in New Mexico was turning out impellers, and Japanese factories were producing modular reactors. John needed both for Phobos and Deimos, which he intended to fortify, and he needed reactors so he could increase refinery capacity. Chuck could satisfy John's requirements and avoid additional costs to NFI by including the conversion expenses in the lease agreements.

What about the United Nations of Earth? Would they help? The Secretary General had a lot more authority than the S-G of the old UN, so something might be possible, but how to interest him in NFI's financial woes? It might be possible if the Asian Alliance or the NAA petitioned the S-G; after all, the expenses that were causing Chuck so much anxiety were for programs that would benefit humanity, not NFI.

It was worth trying. He made a note to ask Mark to see what he could do. Still, the S-G would be more likely to approve a financial package if NFI had other members of the EC on their side.

***

Admiral Senter had arrived on Enterprise. He would attend Bobby's briefing in person, as would Captains Schmidt of the Morty and Dennis of the Frenchy. Also attending were Captains Pensell of Falcon, Kelly of Leviathan, and Albrecht of Goliath.

Admiral Wendell welcomed his guests, then reviewed the purpose of the meeting. "We have developed a number of new procedures dealing with how we will perform our mission. Tomorrow we transition from training to operational status, so I don't anticipate taking you away from your commands again. This may be the last opportunity for us to meet in this way.

"Captain Sneyd will conduct this morning's briefing and there will be an informal get-together afterwards, giving you a chance to meet with your counterparts. After the get-together, captains and Commander Sneyd will be my guests for dinner.

"If you have questions, please make notes and forward them to Captain Bobby Sneyd via message. He'll see I'm copied for anything pertaining to the mission. Captain Sneyd?"

"Thank you, Admiral. The purpose of this briefing is to acquaint you with a number of improvements in destroyer flight operations. The measures should be considered stop-gaps while we await arrival of the next generation of deep-space astrogation aids. The SSPS units..."

"Define SSPS, Bobby," interrupted Admiral Wendell.

"Yes, sir. SSPS stands for Solar System Positioning Satellite. It will become the designation for the entire system when everything is in place, in approximately ten years." He paused to make sure his audience understood, then continued. "Mod One SSP satellites are similar to Earth's GPS satellites, basically an atomic clock, a transmitter, and a power supply, and will be deployed in solar orbit between Earth and Mars. This subsystem will support transport operations between Mars and Earth, but does not affect our Kuiper Zone mission."

Bobby sipped at the glass of water on the lectern, then pushed a button on the controller. A scaled down image of Mars was centered in the display, with Earth in the lower left corner and the Asteroid Belt in the upper right. "Mod Two SSPS units are being built on Mars. They're similar to Mod One units, but also contain repeaters, receiver-transmitters than can pick up weak signals, amplify, and re-transmit them. This system will be operational within two years, depending on availability of the satellites. Most of the early units will be positioned near the Belt. Mod Two units are intended to support mining operations. Ships will also use the satellites as they exploit the moons of Jupiter."

"A limited number of Mod Two satellites will also be deployed between Jupiter and Saturn, then Saturn and Uranus, finally between Uranus and Neptune. They will assist the supply trains servicing this task force." He paused to let the murmurs die away. For a moment, he considered the effect of calling 'Attention!', but only a moment. It simply wouldn't do for a junior captain to, in essence, tell this group to 'shut up'! He spared a glance at Admiral Wendell, who looked back benignly.

"Mod Three SSPS units add a second receiver-transmitter to receive, amplify, and transmit alerts from the Breadcrumb monitors. Captain Albrecht's Goliath will detach from the convoy after this meeting and return to Mars. One of the screening Cigars will accompany her. The two ships will pick up trains containing the first Mod Three SSPS units and as many Breadcrumbs as are ready."

Bobby waited for the noises to die away.

"My next topic concerns flight safety, and it's intended primarily for the destroyer crews. Drones four and five, located inboard on the upper two wings, are being removed by maintenance crews at this time and will be replaced with pods containing consumable supplies. One of the pods contains tanks of gases, the other contains food and water. The extra plumbing connections allow for flexibility, meaning that the pods can be mounted to either hardpoint. Both hardpoints are being equipped with the necessary plumbing to connect the pod tanks of oxygen and hydrogen to the plumbing systems in your destroyers, but access to the food and water pod will require an EVA.

"If your carrier is forced to change course, it's possible you may become separated from the task force. We've made arrangements in case that happens. Beginning tomorrow, we will leave small dumps containing five pairs of pods and a locator beacon behind the task force. If your destroyer does get separated, lock onto the beacon; it will lead you to the nearest supply dump. There will be enough consumables in each dump to resupply up to five destroyers. That will give you enough additional range to reach the nearest outer planet. As we proceed with the mission, you may find it necessary to jump from one supply dump to another until you are able to head for the nearest outer planet. Offloading of drones and replacing them with additional pods is authorized at the discretion of destroyer flight commanders.

"A new class of ship called Outposts is being placed in orbit around each of the outer planets. They also have beacons which will help you to locate them. They're essentially stripped-down Cigar-class birds with older technology. No matrix drives, fusion torches, or gravity compensators, but other than that, they're fully operational. Each outer planet will have at least one Outpost. There's already one orbiting Neptune, and the others will be in place within a standard month. You'll receive detailed instructions regarding the Outposts before you launch, including locations, beacon codes, and so forth. Commanders are directed to disseminate this information to all crews before they deploy tomorrow. You will also print up checklists for onboard use. Crews that lose contact will restock at an emergency dump, then make for the nearest outer planet. It won't always be Neptune. Within a week, we'll be closer to Uranus than to Neptune, and by then it will have its own Outpost.

"There will be a subroutine added to your flight computers, but the admiral wants a hard copy of emergency actions in each destroyer. If you're forced to fly on manual control, use the checklists."

This time, the murmurs were louder and took longer to die away. Bobby waited patiently and sipped at his glass of water. Empty already? He poured another glass and waited. Finally, Captain Albrecht stood and waited to be recognized. Admiral Wendell joined Bobby at the lectern.

"Captain Albrecht?"

"This seems pretty ambitious from where I sit, Admiral. How long to get everything up and running? And how is this supposed to help me find the task force if you change course before I get back from Mars?"

"Good question. I'll transmit any course changes to Mars, of course. I have a couple of other options, but I'm still working on the language. You'll all hear about it before we deploy the Cranes."

"Yes, Sir."

"You're right, Captain Albrecht, it's ambitious," said Bobby. "We, meaning the scientific team on Mars and the task force's astrogation teams, propose to eventually set up an electrical solar system. Mars will serve as the control center. It's closer to the outer planets than Earth, so it makes sense to do it that way. Another point in Mars' favor is that the majority of space operations, including mining and refining, are based out of Mars."

"Not to mention Mars is owned by your family, Captain?"

Admiral Wendell frowned and started to respond.

"Admiral? May I address this?"

"Go ahead, Captain, but be careful."

"Yes, sir. Captain, my family owns what we've built on Mars, what NFI has built, and nothing more! It's a planet; there's plenty of room for others and no one will stop them from constructing their own facility. According to an internal memo I received two days ago, NFI will even assist UNE nations or consortia if they choose to build. The only issues are cost and return on investment. We spent a lot of money learning how to do what we've done. Any nation can do the same, but it will probably be cheaper to contract with us."

"You say that NFI is prepared to assist others. At a cost, of course."

"Of course, Captain. The only thing keeping others from setting up shop on Mars is cost. Is it worthwhile for them to invest in building, or would the money be better spent on ships and Earth-based infrastructure?"

"So NFI continues to own space."

"That's not a question, Captain."

"If that's all, Captain Albrecht?" asked the admiral. His tone was cool, reflecting his displeasure at the direction the conversation had taken.

Captain Albrecht nodded and resumed his seat.

Captain Sneyd continued. "Completion of the Integrated Navigation and Warning System, the 'Breadcrumbs', is projected to take a century, perhaps longer. In practical terms, it may never be finished. Breadcrumbs stop working, they get old, newer models will be developed. It will be expensive. In fact, it will take a joint effort from all of Earth's governing bodies to accomplish everything I've laid out for you.

"But we've already seen the alternative. The Flicker ships have been using our solar system for a long time, we don't know how long. Will there be other ships, other species? We don't know. We don't know what's out there, whether they're friendly, neutral, or aggressive. We know there's at least one, and the odds of that being the only space-faring civilization are literally trillions to one. Or trillions to two, depending. What if the next invader, and make no mistake the solar system has been invaded, decides to do more than set up a system of reflectors? We'll spend the money because we don't have a choice."

"I'll take it from here, Captain," interjected Admiral Wendell. Bobby nodded and sat down behind him on the dais.

"Captain Sneyd mentioned that the electric solar system is a joint effort between our astrogation departments and an international team of scientists. Most are academics. Name a major university, there's a good chance that members of their faculty are involved, but what they're doing is not our problem. We're going out to the Kuiper Zone, we're going to launch our destroyers, and we're going to bring them safely back to their carriers. We'll also place the Breadcrumb detectors in position and conduct sensitivity tests. We'll position the Mod Three SSP satellites as they become available.

"Eventually, we may be able to suspend leaving off emergency supply dumps. You'll be able to use the SSPS to find your location and find your way from there to the task force. For now, we've got plenty to keep us busy. We'll break for an hour at this time. Commander Roberta Sneyd will brief her destroyer skippers before we adjourn for dinner. The rest of you may attend at your discretion.

"Captain Albrecht, I'd like a minute of your time. Everyone else, you're dismissed."

 

Chapter Four

"My briefing will review tactical employment of destroyers, procedures for relief in place, and emergency procedures. Please hold your questions until I'm finished." Robbie's clear voice was easily audible throughout the room.

"Admiral Senter will shift his flag to Apollo tomorrow. She's the center ship in the formation, meaning she sets the course for the task force. The capital ships will conform to her movements. If the formation becomes scattered, all ships will rally on Apollo.

"Admiral Wendell will remain on Enterprise, at the 12 o'clock position. Falcon will occupy the 6 o'clock slot, Morty will be at the 3 o'clock position, and Frenchy at the 9 o'clock. For those who aren't familiar with analog clocks, the task force's cruising formation is in the shape of a large plus sign. Enterprise is at the top, Falcon the bottom, Frenchy is to port, and Morty to starboard. Apollo is at the intersection where the lines of the plus cross.

"Two Cigar-class ships are six light-seconds ahead of the task force, four others are spaced equally around the task force at three light-seconds distance, and a Giant-class trails four light-seconds behind the formation. We do not anticipate attack, but it is possible we may encounter fast-moving objects. The screening ships provide enhanced radar coverage, the distances dictated by anticipated need for reaction time. An incoming object whose velocity is added to that of the task force requires more reaction time."

Robbie looked around to see how the audience was reacting, but none looked bored. She continued, "The trailing Giant, currently Behemoth, has an additional mission. If possible, the task force will radio any changes of course so that you can adjust. If there is hostile contact, the tactical situation may require radio silence from Apollo and the carriers. Should any of you become separated from the task force, the Giant will attempt to rescue you.

"Pay attention, people. Astrogation is survival; you must be able to reach your patrol station, contact the destroyer that is already there, then return to the task force before you run out of oxygen.

"You may be required to maneuver, the task force may be forced to deviate from the plotted course. There are few landmarks. Stellar astrogation is helpful, but measuring distance is tricky. Some of you will become separated during this cruise. Knowing what to do is life and death." Except for her voice, the silence in the room was now absolute.

"Bobby...ah, Captain Sneyd...already mentioned emergency recovery procedures. I will add this to his comments. In an actual emergency, including loss of situational awareness that prevents a crew from recovering to the task force, do not fail to activate your emergency beacon. I will not enjoy writing your family that through inexcusable stupidity you managed to lose a valuable destroyer and kill the crew. The activation switch for your emergency beacon is protected by a cover. Do not activate it by mistake, because Behemoth will attempt to home on your position. I will take a dim view of careless activation. While Behemoth is rushing to find you, a crew on the far side of the formation may have an actual emergency. Behemoth cannot be in two places at once.

"While the space behind the formation is unlikely to hold a threat, the capital ships will not have enhanced radar coverage of that region. Automatic activation of your beacon by sensors is another issue entirely, not one that you can control."

Robbie paused for a moment before continuing. "Your Crane-class destroyers are tasked to cruise one half light-second from the nearest carrier. I will fly with Gold Flight. My deputy, Commander Robin Bond, will fly with Blue Flight. Each flight has four sector commanders who are responsible for the eighteen destroyers in their sectors. Call them first in case of a routine problem. Potentially hostile contacts go straight to the admirals."

She sipped at her water, allowing the information to sink in. "Sector assignments will remain fixed. Any changes will be approved by me. Know your assigned patrol position, know where your sector commander is. Know where your carrier is expected to be after you are relieved! And don't forget to include your own flight time in your calculations. It's embarrassing when you have to turn and chase the formation in order to find your berth.

"Do not launch your drones until you need them. When to launch and how many you think you'll need is left to your discretion, but launch will require a post-mission debriefing. You are authorized one practice launch per deployment and a mass firing of your lasers on a simulated target. Do not fire your railguns without authorization unless dictated by the tactical situation. I suggest you hold off on practice firing until you're almost finished with your deployment. Sector commanders, insure that your destroyers follow a schedule so that all of them aren't performing their exercise at the same time."

She looked at the table where the eight commanders were sitting and got nods. "Now that I've spooked you, expect your first deployment to be routine. For that matter, expect all of them to be routine, and boring, but stay alert for the day when they aren't boring. Fly missions the same way you've flown practice deployments and you won't have a problem.

"At this point, I'll turn you over to your sector commanders for their words of wisdom. Gold Flight will launch in seven hours, thirty minutes. Be ready. You Nelsen-class pilots will now get my undivided attention. Ten minutes break, meet me in the wardroom for your briefing. Sector commanders, take charge."

Robbie walked between the tables toward the door. She caught a snippet of conversation as she passed, but never turned around. She was having a problem not laughing.

"Old lady's a real hardass! I don't want to get on her bad side!"

"I'd take any side, not that she'll notice a lowly ensign! But you're right, she's tough. I'm okay with that. If it keeps my mom from getting one of those 'Dear parent' letters, she can be as tough as she wants. The thought of suffocating while we run out of oxygen doesn't appeal to me!"

Robbie used her ten minutes break to visit the senior officers head, then headed for the wardroom. Thankfully, this briefing would be shorter. The Nelsen pilots carried commissions signed by the USA President, the Secretary General of the UNE, and Chuck Sneyd as CEO of New Frontiers, Inc. Legalese; the three signatures allowed the Nelsons to carry the nuclear-armed Penetrators, a measure specified in US law. The signature of the president was necessary because of their special tasking, and the other signatures allowed the ships to be berthed on any of the carriers, including Enterprise and Falcon. The signature of the UNE Secretary General was necessary in case the task force encountered the Flickers; they would represent Earth, not the NAA or NFI.

She began her briefing immediately. "Your job is close protection of the task force. You will also fly calibration missions to measure the sensitivity of the Breadcrumb detectors, as well as such other flights as Admirals Senter or Wendell direct. The main difference is that your birds have the special circuits to control the nuclear Penetrators. You've all been briefed by Admiral Senter on the special protocols that you'll follow, so I won't go into that. Normally you won't be expected to fly beyond the immediate vicinity of the task force, but should that happen, keep in mind the safety measures I mentioned before.

"I will not be in your direct chain of command, because I am not a US or NAA citizen, but be aware that any of us may be federalized by order of Admiral Senter, who carries that authority. Should he be unable to do so, the captains of Frenchy or Morty will issue the orders in his stead. If federalized, I will assume tactical as well as administrative command over you and your special weapons.

"I mentioned direct chain of command. While I cannot currently exercise command during nuclear deployments, you should also be aware that I will write your fitness reports, and I'm assured that Admiral Senter will endorse them. Which makes me your boss, as much as any Crane pilot or copilot. If you have a question, take it up with Admiral Senter. You won't get nearly as much seat time as the Crane pilots, but rather than have you get stale I'll put you in the rotation to fly as part of Gold Flight or Blue Flight. You will carry the same armament as Cranes during that mission, the organic railgun and laser that all destroyers have plus a full complement of drones.

"Commander Davis commands the Nelsen detachment, currently 20 destroyers. If we get approval, we expect to add at least ten more, but for now you're it. Expect a lot of standardization inspections; they're required by US and NAA regulations, and will be conducted by Admiral Senter or the captain of Morty or Frenchy.

"Any questions? If not, I remind you that although the Cranes won't fly for another seven hours, you are on operational status as of now. Half of you are on four hours notice, the other half, except for the ready birds, are at thirty minutes readiness. The two ready birds will be manned continuously, ready to launch within thirty seconds. I suggest you get as much rest as possible. That's what I intend to do. Dismissed to your stations."

The murmurs were different as she left the wardroom.

"You're sure she's not regular US Navy? She sounds just like the CAG on John F Kennedy!"

***

Lina called for a runabout and asked the uniformed driver to give her a tour of the school.

"Glad to, Ma'am. We'll start with the dorms, that's where the student pilots live. You don't need to go inside, do you?"

"No, just a driving tour is fine. I have a meeting with the Chief of Instruction tomorrow morning."

"That would be Captain Richard Grant, so I'll make Building Two last on the tour. Captain Grant's office is on the top floor, the instructors have offices on the second floor, and the classrooms are on the ground floor."

"I see," Lina murmured. "Yes, show me where the dorms are. I'll also want to see the hangar area and the maintenance area. I expect to become familiar with them in a short time."

"You're going to work here, Ma'am? But..." his voice trailed off.

"Is something wrong?" asked Lina.

"Ma'am, I was told you own the company. Why would you want to work at the school? I think I need to call for clarification!"

"Relax. I don't own the company, but I suppose I own about half of it. My husband and I own most of the stock, except for the blocks owned by our children. There are a few shares that have been given out as bonuses, but my family owns more than ninety percent of the company now that Captain Crane has retired to Mars. I don't think it's a secret that we bought him out."

"No, I heard that. But I was dispatched to pick up the owner, so I'm just glad I didn't make a mistake."

"You didn't. And yes, I expect to work somewhere on the campus. I'm still deciding where."

"Yes, Ma'am. This block of buildings are all dorms. Ahead of us are the hangars, and as you might guess they take up most of the room. I'm sure you know that if we have to expand the school again, we'll be adding a second story to the hangars. Destroyers don't need a runway, so the birds can fly directly out of the hangar and head for space. Sounds weird, but there's a prototype over there, the tall building? It's triple-stacked. Nothing in the second and upper bay, though. We know it works, and occasionally when visitors drop in we house their birds on the second floor. We haven't needed the third floor yet."

"Interesting. Whose idea was that?"

"Captain Grant. He's not afraid to try new things."

"I see. And the buildings ahead of us?"

"The two long ones are the maintenance buildings. A bird that has reached the end of its maintenance cycle comes there. The first is the disassembly building, the other is assembly. You know about the maintenance cycle?"

"Yes. I helped design it, although I've never been in the two buildings."

"You did good, Ma'am, if I may say so. We use the school fleet a lot, but we haven't had a failure in—well, I don't remember any."

"That's the idea."

"Up ahead is the instruction building. Want to stop?"

"No, not today. Will you be driving tomorrow?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Want me to pick you up?"

"Yes. I'll be ready at 0900."

"I'll be here, Ma'am. Back to your quarters, or do you want to see the officers club?"

"No, I've been there. Just take me home."

"Yes, Ma'am." The rest of the drive was silent except for the muted humming of the runabout's electric motor.

Lina thanked the driver and walked to the door. The housekeeper was there, waiting, and opened the door. "Did you see the things you wanted, Miss Lina?"

"I did, thank you. It's not all that spread out, is it?"

"No, Miss Lina. A person could easily walk from one side to the other."

"I wonder how far it is if you walk around it?"

"Five point one kilometers, Miss Lina. We use the outer road as an exercise track."

"I may join you," Lina said. "I could use the exercise. Plus I like to watch the destroyers take off."

"We all do, Miss Lina."

 

Chapter Five

Admiral Wendell delivered the final comments before the captains left.

"We don't know what we'll find out here. It may turn out there's nothing noteworthy in the Kuiper Zone other than dwarf planets, but expect to encounter smaller objects, including proto-comet assemblages of water ice and dust. There may also be an undiscovered giant planet. We won't know until we finish the survey.

"You are the eyes and ears of the task force. Report your findings to your sector commanders; they will pass your reports on to Captain Schmidt in Morty and Captain Dennis in Frenchy. They, in turn, will report to Admiral Senter, who will forward anything affecting the task force and its mission to me.

"Your destroyers are armed, as are your drones, but I emphasize that we are not at war. You are authorized to use your weapons in self-defense, but you will not initiate hostilities. Your mission is to investigate! We know very little about this zone, but this task force is going to change that."

He paused, watching the clock tick down to 0400. "Captain Sneyd, launch Gold Flight."

Robbie felt a thrill; promotion authority had come through while she slept. "Commander Sector Two, launch your Cranes. Commander Sector One, launch your Cranes." Sector Two's Cranes were on Morty, those of Sector One were berthed on Frenchy.

Similar orders were going out on the opposite side of the formation. Commander Bond, Robbie's deputy, would order the Cranes of sectors three and four, including Robbie, from Enterprise; she would not fly today. Blue Flight would relieve Gold Flight in twenty-four hours.

The first pair of Cranes headed out, followed by two others. As they left the carrier, their courses diverged. The staggered launches minimized the possibility of accidents.

Three minutes later, it was Robbie's turn. "Sector Four Cranes, in order, launch. Take her out as soon as we're clear, Ferrol."

"Aye, Captain." Robbie grinned; Ensign Ferrol Smithers, her copilot, had emphasized her new title just enough for it to be noticeable. Above her, the hull of Enterprise appeared to float away as her Crane moved downward. "Any preference which sector we check first, Captain?"

"You can drop the rank, Ferrol, at least while we're away from Enterprise. Robbie still works."

"Robbie it is. Which sector?"

"Pick one, I don't care. We've got twenty-four hours and I want to check all of them twice. I don't want to be predictable."

"Sector Three first then, Robbie." Smithers punched in a course and the Crane swung away, boosting clear of the task force. "They're not on station yet."

"Keep us below two gees. They're heading out at three, so that will give them a little time to settle in. Give Liz a heads up in ten minutes." Commander Elizabeth Yocum was the sector commander. "Log all course changes."

"Already set on auto, Robbie. Want it on your plot?"

"Yes, please. Want a coffee?"

"Thank you. First time a captain ever brought me coffee!"

"Don't let it go to your head."

The banter was interrupted by a message from Apollo. "All units, be advised that the first Breadcrumb has been deployed. Behemoth, beware of local traffic. Two Nelsens have launched. The little birds will be running calibration exercises and gathering data on Breadcrumb sensitivity."

"Copy, Apollo. Behemoth adjusting course at this time to clear traffic zone."

"Roger, Behemoth. Apollo by."

***

The driver stopped the runabout in front of the classroom building.

"Classes are in session on the first floor if you want to drop in, ma'am. Second floor has instructor offices, third floor is administration. That's where Captain Grant's office is."

"I remember," said Lina. "Thank you."

"Want me to wait, Ma'am?"

"No, I don't know how long I'll be. I may walk home; it's not all that far. If I need a ride, I'll call." The driver nodded, waited until she reached the building's door, then drove away.

The doors opened automatically as Lina approached. She took the stairs to the third floor, preferring the climb to waiting for the elevator.

Captain Grant's office was small and there was no receptionist. Lina pushed the door open and saw a man sitting at a desk, working on a desktop computer. He was clean-shaven and wore his dark-brown hair cut short.

A second glance revealed the rising-eagle badge of a colonel on his collars and pilot's wings above his left pocket. The dark-blue beret tossed carelessly on the corner of the desk completed the picture. Captain Grant stood politely as she approached.

"Mrs. Sneyd?" The question was rhetorical; he knew who she was.

"Call me Lina, please. I'm glad to finally meet you, Captain."

"The pleasure is mine, Lina, and please call me Rich."

Rich's glance was equally searching. Who was this woman who had lived for more than a month just off the campus? She occasionally shopped at the base store and sometimes ate in the cafeteria with her daughter, a student in the University, but otherwise there was no indication that she was the richest woman in the world, co-owner of the entire complex, and much more than that.

She rarely visited the base, had never done so in an official capacity, but she was not a recluse. Her comings and goings were a matter of record. Also part of her record was that she was a rated command pilot who sometimes flew one of the school's destroyers. The dispatch officer had queried Rich before he authorized her first flight; she had listed her destination as Orbital Fort One, purpose, to meet her husband. The two would perform a final inspection prior to turning the fort over to the North American Alliance. The copilot had been queried after the flight and revealed that Captain Sneyd was perfectly competent.

"Is this a social call, Lina? If it's about your daughter, her course starts six weeks from now. Until then, well, we don't have a lot to do with university affairs."

"No, I'm not here about Ellyn. I'm at loose ends and I wondered if there might be a place where I could fit in. I'm looking for a job."

Rich's surprised showed for a moment. "Am I being relieved, Lina?"

"So far as I know, you're doing a fine job. Your efforts to develop a long-range destroyer are above and beyond what we expected."

"One of my failures, I'm afraid," said Rich ruefully. "What we came up with won't work with our Saucer-class ships. Simply put, the experimental version was too big for the berthing spaces. The NAA's Fuqua class has the same berth design, meaning the entire hangar deck would have to be stripped out and replaced. Cheaper and easier to design new spaces from the beginning. The Delta-model destroyers will be based on work my people did, and they'll be built as soon as the designs for the new carriers are finalized."

"You can call them Frenchy-class, Rich. Chuck and I know what they're called." Lina pulled over a chair and sat down.

Rich grinned. "I wasn't sure, so I decided to stick with the official name. But if you're not after my job, you can do pretty much anything you want around the school. You own the place, after all."

"I'm not looking for a job as owner. I thought of pilot, but you really don't do that, do you?"

"No, we train pilots. By the time they begin making actual flights they're graduates of basic flight school. As soon as they finish here, they're ready for a new posting. Even our instructor-pilots only fly part time. Half their time is platform instruction, occasionally dual simulator instruction teaching manual operations, but the rest of it is riding along while students accumulate seat time."

"So they instruct in the classroom, then conduct simulator or training flights?"

"That's it. They cover everything from beginning to end, from systems to destroyer operations, including launch, control, and recovery of drones. We use the Crane model primarily. The special control systems in the Nelsens are taught by US instructors, but otherwise what we teach applies equally to both. There are reasons."

"You're talking about the nuke warhead control systems."

"Yes. They're considered to be need-to-know, so we don't talk about them much."

"Let's keep it that way, but I suspect I know more about the new systems than you. So the Cranes are the Alpha models and you cover the basics of the Betas, the Nelsen model. Is that it?"

Rich nodded. "We're also tasked to check design changes before they're standardized. Right now, we're working on adding external stores to the Cranes. Instead of making them bigger, we're designing pods that can be hung on the wings. It's something the admirals want. It's a kind of hybrid, of course; we gave up on making the hulls larger, so now we're trying to work with what we have and still give them longer legs."

"Frustrated engineer, Rich?" Lina smiled.

"I was an engineer before I got my wings. I like instructing, but what I really want to do is command one of the new starships." He leaned back in the chair. "I've been told I might get one of the Super-Saucers when it's ready for commissioning. Its hangar deck will be large enough to berth the long range Delta model destroyers. There are other improvements too, meaning that the new Saucers could easily voyage to Centaurus. I read a lot of science fiction while I was growing up, space opera mostly, but I find the reality more interesting. First to visit a new star? I would love that!"

"I understand. Who's in line for your job if that happens?"

"I have no idea. There are several possibilities, including your daughter Robbie. She's highly regarded among the flying community. Plenty of logbook time, but not much administrative experience. Running the school would be good for her."

"Ground her and make her fly a desk? No way!"

"You know, if you had experience..."

"I started thinking about that as soon as you mentioned it. But I'm not sure..."

"Instructor and instructor-pilot? You could start with one of the easier blocks, maybe maintenance theory."

"That's simple?"

"The system hasn't changed in years. Some of the new flight protocols, those change just about every week, but maintenance is relatively straightforward. How would you like to be an instructor? I could schedule your first class in...let me check...about two weeks? That would give you time to bone up on the subject and do a practice run-through. I would be happy to act as mentor while you get up to speed."

"Well, two weeks—that seems long."

"I wouldn't want you to start before you're ready. Why not observe a class or two today? You'll also need uniforms; there's a sales store, but you may want to order yours."

"I think I would. I have uniforms from before, but not the new ones like you're wearing."

"They're standard now, I'm afraid. Your old uniform would mark you as an outsider; people would wonder what a retread was doing as an instructor."

"Retread? Not very flattering!" Lina softened the reply with a chuckle.

"So why not start fresh as Captain Lina Sneyd? People will make the family connection to NFI, there's nothing we can do about that, but they may not understand who you really are. In addition to Chuck, there are at least two other people named Sneyd working for NFI and a young lady named Sneyd is enrolled at the university. Why would the co-owner of NFI be teaching basic flight operations?"

"That just might work. I might not even use my married name, just go with Lina Fuqua."

"Not much help, I'm afraid. That name is well known too. Some will know you're the lady who lives in the big house. Better to just be honest and not flaunt who you are. In my opinion, of course."

"I expect you're right. Just not make an issue of it, in case someone does make the connection?"

That was a preview of BEMs: Bug Eyed Monsters, Book 4, the New Frontiers Series. To read the rest purchase the book.

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