Infection Snippet 3

 

Chapter 3

 

PR52-190, Pi sector

 

Admiral Chester I contemplated the future as he replayed the recent battle. He noted his mistakes. He also knew that hindsight was 20-20. He had come into the battle expecting the enemy to fight like pirates, to fight to run away. He had forgotten that Federation ships were tougher and were prone to standing and fighting to defend civilians.

They had broken in the end, however. His ambush had crushed most of the enemy; however, some had escaped. He had detailed two cruisers to chase them down. He needed to keep that ship from getting word back to the Federation.

The longer the Federaton was in the dark, the better in his estimation.

He paused the replay of the fighter furball and checked on the status of his ships. He had eight damaged ships—two of them his battle cruisers and six of his cruisers. The two ships that had been lightly damage had been repaired and returned to service in the days after the battle. The battle cruiser damage was more extensive, and one of his cruisers was still little better than a wreck. It had opened up an issue that he and the planners of this expedition had not anticipated, being drawn down on his logistics so quickly.

He had to contend with a long supply chain and no knowledge of when supplies would be coming … or even if they were in the pipeline. Ships? Yes he needed them, but he needed munitions too. He also needed servitors to replace those killed in battle. He needed parts that the nanites couldn't easily rebuild or replace.

The six support ships were doing their best. But he was already in the yellow for munitions and fuel, and he hadn't even truly started the campaign, just established the initial beachhead.

Well, that was one issue and it was a major one. The second one was something also not anticipated, no captured enemy hulls to use. The Federation ships that had been wrecked had self-destructed. There was only spreading gas and light debris to see and perhaps mine, no hull to rebuild and repurpose for the good of the hive.

Worse, he had no captured data to delve into, nor flesh to abosrb and minds to probe.

His eyes turned to the debris cloud that had once been a large station. The civilians had been warned of his people and their practices of taking flesh. They had set bombs to destroy the station and the boarding party. He had lost four knights and a group of spiders in that failed probe.

He still intended to invade the other colonies; however, he needed to do it cautiously. He needed flesh, material, and databases to process for logistics and intelligence. But he couldn't be tied down supporting a failed invasion, and he couldn't countersign feeding troops and resources into a meat grinder.

As he contemplated the station, he noted a servitor drone collecting scrap. The servitor was a converted tug and tug pilot who was a part of the support ship compliment. Was he going to have to draft those pilots to replace his depleted fighters? He hoped not but he might have to go that route.

Well, the one good thing about the scrap was that they had plenty of it to replenish their metal stock for the coil and coil guns. And some of the material would of course be melted down and reworked to replace some parts in time. But that took energy and time, something he wasn't certain he had a lot of.

His eyes shifted to his carrier. The carrier compliment had been shredded by the fighters from the cruisers. According to the tactical servitors, their loss ratio was 3:1. He was trying to identify where they were deficient. He had noted several variables.

One, the Federation craft were technologically better—better shields, better speed, manuevering, longer range. His ships hadn't had a chance and only the fact that they had overwhelming numbers and had attritioned the enemy fighters had won him the engagement.

Tactically the enemy pilots were far superior too. They had better tactics, reaction times, and initiative.

Third, his people had become too reliant on cyber attacks. Clearly the enemy anticipated them and hardened their systems to become immune. They were going to have to adapt. But, in order to find an edge they needed functional hardware to examine.

His eyes roved the large battle space where the furball had taken place. More tugs and probes were at work there, but so far only his people's wreckage had been recovered. The small bits of enemy fighters were only good for chemical tests to see what the material was made out of. There was no surviving flesh or electronic hardware to probe.

Damn.

He contemplated his numbers. When he had been en route, he'd planned to convert the first captured hull into either a support ship, warship, or a courier. The first courier he converted he planned to send back to Omicron to report back. Now he didn't have that luxury.

He didn't like losing one of his ships. He had brought them with him for a reason.

He still needed to run the damn ship down. He dispatched his two battle cruisers and a squadron of six of his healthiest cruisers to run the enemy down in case the division of cruisers failed. They could do something about their damage en route. It would slow them down, but hopefully, the enemy ship would be eventually run to ground easily.

<<(O)>>

Infection Snippet 2

 

Omicron Tortuga, Xeno Capital

 

Hazel Irons Prime watched as the conference played out. The Necron leaders and the Wraith Queen argued over logicistics versus command and control. Her partner was fanatical about maintaining command and control. She had serious trust issues and was paranoid for good reason.

As her former and well, current partner, the Wraith queen had been engineered as her watch dog. Technically they should have completed their mission and been destroyed in the process or survived and reported back in. However there was no one left to report back to, the Xenos were destroyed or hiding.

The Xenos had been big on control. They had built in kill switches and in some cases a time limit for AI and ships to function before they shut themselves off or self-destructed. Oddly that didn't extend to some of their nanites. They had found worlds infested with nanites and primative intelligences in the sector. There were reports of other such worlds too.

Given that the Xenos had been space based... could that be why? Or a scortched Earth tactic? She wasn't certain.

Her partner had been convinced to reprogram herself into what she was now, the new queen of all Xenos. Their growing clan was based in the former pirate sector capital. They had an alliance with the Necrons to help take over and eventually take over the galaxy.

Of course her queen intended to stab her partners in the back when she no longer had any further use for them. So, was that another reason for her paranoia? Her plans made her think that they planned the same thing to her? Most likely, the clone mused darkly.

Her partner had recently started to realize that she had erred in consigning all of the worlds to the Necrons while she focused on only space. The Necrons wanted flesh as well as other materials to mold. She had only wanted plastic and metal to forge her fleet.

They had hit upon the limits of their technological base however. As changelings they had lacked the database of a Xeno Queen. Therefore they'd been forced to adapt the Necron model and use cyborg crews... and slowly rebuild the Xeno fleet.

They had a form of economy going. But the push into Upsilon sector as well as Pi was giving them growing pains.

Heart burn, she thought in the recesses of her twisted mind.

"We need more supplies in order to push the Feds back fast," A necron admiral said in the group chat through their growing ansible network. "But speed is an issue."

"Speed and time," another responded. She recongized that one as one of the Chesters. Her queen had stopped a Necron courier carrying a Chester and had copied it for her own purposes. There were several now in her service though they were all loyalty conditioned to the queen.

"We do not know what they are encountering or what they need. We can't just send them everything, we need materials here too," a general stated.

"Ships too," an admiral stated.

"I will not send more until we know more about what we are up against," the queen insisted.

Hazel grimaced but said nothing. She saw Admiral Chester glance in her direction and then away and then back to the sector map.

The Wraith Queen and the Gravemind both wanted to maintain command and control of their respective far flung forces. They also wanted to keep an eye on each other, which was natural. They also kept arguing over who would be in overall command of the Pi sector.

Hazel sighed inwardly again. Well, they wouldn't have a way to see what was going on, or exert control for some time. Ships with ansible cores were en route to Pi sector but due to the nature of their delicate cargos they were taking four times longer than normal ships to transit the leap. So they had three more years to go before the first one arrived.

And of course it was a Necron one, something that her partner was not happy about.

"As I see it, we have the standard dilema. Long supply lines and a need to coordinate over that distance. We need information flowing and we need additional resources there. We also need leadership," Supreme Admiral Kelogra, the commander of all Necron fleets and the coordinator of their strategy stated.

Hazel knew that her queen coveted the supreme admiral but even if she could get a copy of him she would not allow him to function with this sort of initiative. Which was... a pity.

"You can send as many generals and admirals as need," the Xeno Chester stated.

"No we cannot. There is a limit," another admiral, this one a Necron replied.

"You can grow as many generals as you need!" The queen stated.

"We can indeed grow many generals and admirals," the Necron caretaker stated.

"See?"

"But a group of generals is of no use without those under them there to execute the orders. What point is a general with no army?" a general stated.

"Send them and have them build the army there!" the queen insisted.

"Which we are doing in Upsilon to some degree. But they lack experience. They also lack the materials to do their jobs."

"You are downloading information..."
"Correct. As much as we can and diseminating it. But our forces are out of date and changing daily. They are unfortunately, not as adaptive yet as we would like to see. The forces that are gaining experience are in the field and out of contact. Some are lost to combat before their minds can be copied," a general stated.

"Once we have a solid foothold and a connection we can send orders to grow units locally in whatever amounts the local supplies and time can achieve," the Gravemind rumbled in its echoy chorus voice.

<<(O)>>

Infection Snippet 1

   So, I just finished writing Shelby Logan 11 Staring into the Void, and the cover. More on that later.

  I sent Infection off to Rea for editing. I'm hoping to send it to Goodlifeguide by next week and publish by the end of the month. :)

  I am trying to get caught up on stuff I've deferred. (Procrastination city in some cases) It is super hot and muggy out right now and it is supposed to get into the 100's in 2 days. GRR.

  My cousin (who is a script writer) is looking into making her own AI rom-com soap operas for Youtube. She's got me wondering about trying it with the Fed universe. I've seen a lot of AI videos lately. Some are very cool. (like the dino rider one!)

Anyway here is the snippet:

Chapter 1

 

Antigua

 

Fleet Admiral and Acting President John Henry Irons cheered as the 2 battle bots slammed into each other. The crowd oohed as the spinning blade of one of the plastic and metal monsters threw the other bot across the fight chamber to ricochet against the glass. Many people ducked instinctively.

He chuckled as he saw the carnage as the audience cheered. He was amused that people loved the carnage. Personally he was less about the destruction and more about the engineering involved.

The klaxon went off and the lights shifted to indicate the match was over. The victorious team celebrated and even high fived the loosers. They seemed to take the loss in stride. It had been a good show and the good sportsmanship was also a hallmark of the game.

He smiled and ignored the cameras on him as he applauded. The kids were all in junior high and high school. The teams went into the box and began to clean up the mess.

He checked his scanners and noted the security detail around him watching everyone in their respective zones. Protector looked amused on his HUD. Proteus undulated, no doubt the nanite AI wanted to get in there and fix the bots.

Well, that was not their job. That was the job of the kids. Not only did they have to design and build their creations, they had to diagnose and then fix what was broken too. That was all a part of the learning process. Well, that and that engineering was an iterative process. You learned from your mistakes and hopefully improved.

"Fifteen minutes admiral," Protector warned.

"Damn," he muttered. "Last match," he said. It was the semi-final. He'd hoped to get to the end but they had run late with 1 match. That sucked.

"Yes sir."

The hype man came out and began playing up the 2 bots and the teams. They really put a lot of work into it, costumes, lights, and special effects. He snorted softly at the guys who came out dressed as classic nerds with suspenders and goofy glasses. They looked absurd and obviously were having fun. He chuckled and clapped with the audience.

<<(O)>>

Admiral Horatio Logan clapped as the fight continued. They were on Antigua Prime, Admiral Irons had arranged for them to tour some of the schools and colleges to inspire the kids. He hadn't known about the battle bot match. Apparently it was becoming a thing within the Federation since the admiral had taken an interest in it. That and RC racing and actual racing.

"Fourteen minutes," Beau, his AI warned.

"Got it," he said. "Slip out the back?"

"Yes sir."

"Pity. I was hoping to meet the kids."

"You could slip out now and tour back stage," Beau suggested.

The admiral cocked his head. The hype man was getting a bit into it. "Yeah," he said as he looked for an exit.

 

Admiral Irons saw Horatio slip away from the pack. "Visiting the little boy's room before the flight?" he joked.

"Beau suggested that he tour the backstage area before the departure," Protector responded.

The admiral noted a delay as the staff worked to assess the damage to where a piece of the last bot had embedded itself in the glass.

"Maybe that's a good idea," he said as he indicated to the security team lead to follow Horatio. The bear nodded and made a quiet signal to the team to get moving.

<<(O)>>

The kids were in awe of not just Horatio, but also Admiral Irons in the back stage area. Some wanted to talk but were torn on their duties to prep for the next round.

"Just wanted to say hi," Admiral Irons said. He and Horatio split up and made the rounds quickly, shaking hands, listening a little  and then moving on.

One of the kids asked who he thought the best fleet commander would be.

"Well, it isn't just who the leaders are. You could have a great tactician but that person is helpless without a properly forged weapon to wield," the admiral explained.

The young man frowned thoughtfully.

"To praphrase Sun Tzu, he stated that professionals study logistics. Armies a nd navies travel and fight on their stomachs. If you don't have the right things in the right places at the right time, your strategy falls apart before you even start the battle."

The young man nodded.

"And antimatter?" a young lady asked. "Are we going to make the mistake of the old Federation and rely on it?"

"No," Admiral Irons said as he turned to address her. "We are not relying on it completely. We've learned from that. We're still using it obviously, but we have back ups this time."

She nodded and smiled.

He shook hands again, taking note of the names of the kids who asked pointed questions and then moved on with a moue. "Sorry, I've got a flight to catch."

That earned nods of understanding from the kids and their chaperones.

<<(O)>>