Reavers (Book 3) (14 page)

“I’m in here,” Cain said gently.

Angela restrained the urge to chuckle.  He was tremendously annoyed at the interruption, but his voice showed none of it.  He was, after all, the silver-tongued son of the leader of Core Industries.  On countless occasions Angela had heard him speak with a genuine interest and concern that was
anything
but genuine.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” the man said in a trembling voice as he entered.  He was wearing the burgundy uniform of the support staff.

“Don’t worry yourself,” Cain said in a kind voice.  “What has you seeking me out?”

“You gave standing orders to be notified at once,” the man said as if no further explanation was necessary.

“There are a great many things that I like to keep tabs on.  Which important matter,
exactly
, has brought you here?”

The man stiffened.  There was a horrible sense of worry in him, something greater than merely interrupting a superior.  The man shot a glance at Angela before returning to Cain.

“Well?” Cain urged.  “Out with it.”

The man in burgundy reached into his pocket and produced a pad.  Without a word he handed it to his boss.  With an annoyed sigh, he started to read through the pad.  His emotions started to shift.  They changed gradually at first, but by the time he had finished reading he was filled with worry and anger.

“This is
eight
hours
old!” Cain bellowed as he jumped to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Master Hooten.  We received the report only a short while ago.  What would you like us to do?”

Cain pushed the man aside as he stormed out of the room.  Angela scrambled to her feet.

“What’s the matter?” she asked as she caught up to him.

He continued marching on without a word.  As Angela was about to berate him, she caught the familiar melody of extreme urgency.  He wasn’t ignoring her to be rude; he honestly felt he couldn’t spare the seconds to explain.  Silently following, she worked on reducing his anxiety.  By the time the two reached the central command room, Cain was calm and composed again.

“Get me a link with the PSF,” he commanded.

The burgundy uniformed personnel immediately jumped to his orders, quickly working to establish a link with the private security force.  Alden noticed his son and crossed the room.  Angela quickly raised a hand to keep him from interrupting.  Alden nodded understanding.  As the image of a private security force commander focused on the nearby monitor, Cain leaned over the console.

“Master Hooten?” the commander asked as he quickly snapped to attention.

“Lieutenant Romani, there has been a change in the narrative,” Cain spoke slowly and deliberately.

“I suppose the tea party is over.”

“Two spilt their tea.  One may be scalded.”

“Unfortunate.  Should I refill the others’ cups?”

“Yes.  Don’t bother to brew it.”

“Understood.”

With that, the monitor faded back to black.

“Magnate Hooten!” a burgundy uniformed woman shouted at Alden.  “We just lost contact with PSF squads twelve through twenty-three!”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Alden asked his son.

Cain sighed deeply.  Angela could feel a tremendous sense of regret filling him.

“What’s the matter?” she asked softly as she took his hand.

To her surprise, she found he was trembling softly.

“There’s no rest for the weary,” Cain said, more to himself than anyone else.

“. . . which ended with the Articles of Nero Extension,” Brent said as he wrote the important details on the screen behind him.

“Excuse me, professor,” a student said politely.  “Don’t you mean Neo?”

“I see someone is paying attention,” he said with a smile as he turned to face the class.  “The Articles of
Nero
Extension was named after Troy Nero.  Some of you might recognize the name.  It is in fact the same Nero who figured out the stability algorithm.  Oh, and the name is Brent - not professor.”

“Why name it after him?” another student asked as he was just about to return to the lecture.

“That is an
excellent
question.  The Articles of Nero Extension specifically stated how exploration was to be divided.  The drafters of the articles believed it was fitting to name them after the man who had found a way to stabilize the output of the first jump drive to the point the Wall could be maintained.  As he had stabilized the technology, so the Articles would stabilize the turmoil.”

“Divided?” the student asked, still not understanding.

“You have to remember that at that point, mankind was still governed by dozens of organizations.  Before the Articles of Nero Extension, the richest governments could claim space freely.  Poorer groups were effectively banned from benefiting from the jump drive.”

“Isn’t that unfair to the richer governments?” an older female student asked.  “After all, they paid for most of the jump drive’s development.  Shouldn’t they be rewarded for their hard work?”

“Perhaps, but remember the basic necessities of jump drives,” Brent said as he took a seat.  This could be a long diversion.

“Energy and jump coordinates,” the know-it-all of the class quickly answered the question not asked.

“Exactly.  And at that point, both were in short supply.  Even the richest and, forgive the pun, most
power
ful of governments found expansion slow.  You see, there was no navigation network. 
All
space was uncharted.  Any progress was through a game of leapfrog.  After placing a primitive scanning device, they would jump as far as they could and place a second device.  Then they would jump as far as that device allowed and so on.”

Brent paused to draw a quick illustration for the visual learners in the class.

“The cost of this kind of expansion was prohibitive,” he said with a quick gesture to his crude drawing.  “As such, the governments claimed that everything they could scan belonged to them.  However, you have to keep in mind that those primitive scanning devices didn’t just come out of thin air.  It was a common practice to have them manufactured by the poorer governments.”

“Like the rim worlds?” a local student asked with a fair hint of surprise in his voice.

“Exactly!” Brent said with a smile.  “In fact, that is a perfect analogy.  The problem was that the
rim worlds
were doing the heavy lifting while the
core worlds
would benefit solely from their efforts.  This friction between governmental groups had been slowly intensifying over the previous decade.  Thanks to the Articles, that tension was defused before open war erupted.  In fact, if not for the Articles of Nero Extension, we wouldn’t have the navigation network we all take for granted.”

“Do we even need the navigation network in the first place?” Leland asked.

Brent had to pause for a second.  Leland always asked random questions.

“To make a jump without the navigation network - an interesting idea,” Brent said as he leaned back in his chair.  “However, before we can begin to think about something like that we have to make a few assumptions.  Firstly, our hypothetical captain would have to be an idiot.”

“An idiot?” Leland asked as the rest of the class chuckled.

“Only a fool would dare to try a jump without the navigational network.  Second, we have to assume this fool captain is also a genius.”

“A genius?”

“Is there an echo in here?” Brent asked with a smile as the class laugh quietly at Leland.  “Anyway, in order to override the automated system our captain would have to be nothing short of a genius.”

“So, assuming we found just such a foolish genius, we could ignore the navigation network completely?” Leland asked triumphantly.

“Impossible!” the know-it-all protested.  “Jump coordinates are vital to travel.  Without the navigation network our ships would be stuck.”

“Yes and no,” Brent said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.  “Jump coordinates
are
vital; the navigation network isn’t.  You see, our foolish genius could input the data
manually
.”

A murmur of disbelief grumbled through the room.

“Oh it is
very
possible,” Brent said with a nod.  “In fact, all jump drives were manual at first.  A crew would spend several days working out the necessary calculations.”

“
Days
?” Leland asked incredulously.

Brent stood and studied the screen behind him.  The long wall behind him was rigged to follow his hand movements and display the appropriate words and figures.  Mentally estimating its length, he went through the necessary calculations.  It could fit if he wrote small enough.  Walking to the left corner of the room, he stretched as high as he could and started copying down a complex formula.

As he slowly made his way along the length of the room he could hear a few students feverously attempting to copy down his formula in their notes.  When he reached the far right end of the room he turned and walked back to the left corner.  He raised a single finger to hush Leland - he wasn’t done yet.  Starting a space down, he worked along the length of the room, adding another row of variables and numbers.  After repeating the process another five times, Brent had worked from ceiling to floor.  Stepping back, he quickly checked over his work before returning to his seat.

“That is one of the easiest equations needed to perform a jump,” he said as he gestured behind him.  “It is only one step of many before a jump can be performed.  If you asked me to write down the entire set of equations necessary, I’d be forced to refuse.  There simply are not enough lecture halls in this university to hold the completed set.”

The class stared in awe at the block of numbers and figures.

“They had to do all that before each jump?” Leland asked.

“They did, and so do we.  Of course we cheat.  Between a ship’s main computer and the navigation network, all that math is done almost instantly.  Without the aid of the navigation network we’d have to input every variable ourselves.”

“What about the Shard?” Leland pressed.

“What about them?”

“They are a race of machines, right?  Wouldn’t that mean they don’t need a navigation network.”

“What is the rotational constant of Peirude?” Brent asked as he rounded his desk to get closer to the student.

“Excuse me?”

“The moon in orbit above us.  What is its rotational constant?  What is its mass?  What is the exact shape of its orbit?  How long does it take to travel on that orbit?”

Leland stared at him blankly.

“Before you can even think of jumping to Jeirude, you have to be able to answer every single one of those questions.  And precisely, too - guesses are no good.  Beyond that, you need to answer even more complex questions about the sun we orbit.  Don’t forget the other planets in the solar system, too.  Each and every one of them has an effect on a jump.  You get a single figure wrong, even by a fraction of a percent, and you could be jumping to your death.”

“Death?” Leland asked in surprise.

“The Wall could be too small, slicing the ship to ribbons as it passes through.  It could be to the wrong position or orientation.  You could even jump right into the center of a solid mass.  There’s nothing like jumping into the center of Jeirude to ruin your day.”

“But the Shards are machines; they wouldn’t make those mistakes.”

“True,” Brent said as he folded his arms.  “Their math would be flawless.  However, their perfect calculations would be meaningless without the data provided by a navigation network.  Sure, they could make educated guesses and probably be right on almost every account.  But all they would need to do is overestimate a single figure.  Considering the multitude of data needed for a jump, the probability of them making at least one mistake is just shy of one hundred percent.”

“But still . . .”  Leland wasn’t giving up.

“Okay,” Brent said slowly as he rubbed his chin, attempting to think of a way to convince the boy of the necessity of the navigational network.  “Let’s assume for the sake of argument that . . .”

His voice trailed off.  The third girl from the right in the second row was fidgeting.  Even without Weaver abilities he knew the deeper meaning of her familiar movements.  Brent reached into his pocket and pulled out his pocket watch.  His class should have ended half an hour ago. Turning a scrutinizing gaze at Leland, he sighed.  The class chuckled as Leland swallowed against a dry throat.

“You know, you should interrupt me when I start rambling,” Brent called out to the back of the room.

A man dressed in the formal uniform of a professor stood and shrugged nonchalantly.  The class broke into laughter as the students started packing up their things.

“Don’t forget we have a paper due Thursday,” Brent announced to the collective groan of the class.  “I know, I know.  Take your complaints to the university staff.  I don’t want to read what I already know anymore than you want to write what you already know.”

As professor Garza moved to the front of the room, he noticed the professor winking at Leland.  So, his tardiness had been a plot with co-conspirators.  With a chuckle Brent turned to clear the screen behind him.

“If you don’t mind, would you leave that up?” Garza asked.

“You shouldn’t encourage the boy.”  Brent studied the figures, debating if he should erase them or not.

“I don’t see the harm in it . . .”

“This is the third time this
week
.  My wife is going to kill me if I keep showing up late.  I think she suspects I’m having an affair.  That, however, is my concern.  Why exactly do you want me to leave this up?  I thought your class was on biology.”

“It is.  But you’ve got to admit that’s impressive.”  Garza gestured widely as if Brent had actually invented the formula.

“You can dig it up simply enough,” he said with a sigh as he decided to leave it.

“Calm, intelligent,
and
modest.  It’s no wonder we have students from around the Commonwealth trying to wedge themselves into your class.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.  Plus, shouldn’t you be focusing on your own class instead of listening to mine?  I’m sure your students must be frustrated waiting on my prattling.”

“I have yet to hear a complaint.  They all seem happy to sneak quietly in the back and listen.”

“
All
of them?” Brent asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Can you blame them?” the professor countered with a smile.  “All of this is truly fascinating.  If only I had the time I’d attend the entirety of your class.”

As Brent packed up his things, a thought arced along his mind.  Pausing, he turned an analytical gaze on the professor.

“Did I say something wrong?” Garza asked as he backed away slightly.

“How about the two of us make a deal.”

“A deal?”

“You stop encouraging Leland, and I’ll make it so you never miss one of my lectures again.”

“I’m listening.”

“Notice the girl in the second row?”

“Which one?”

Garza turned to study the students.  While the majority of the students were already heading toward the door, a single girl was still sitting.  The third girl from the right in the second row was staring openly at the professors.  Realizing Garza was looking at her, the girl quickly attended to her things as a deep blush started to set into her cheeks.  Garza hid it well, but he had been pleasantly surprised.

“What about her?” he asked.

“She’s got a quick mind but a slow hand,” Brent said as he packed up his things.

“What do you mean?”

“Well you see, while she understands the material, she has trouble putting it into words.  Her first few papers were horrid affairs.  So I made an arrangement with her.”

“Another deal?  Are you a professor or some kind of bookie?”

“A little of both,” Brent said with a grin.  “In any case, I arranged for her to record my lectures.  Taking things at her own speed has made her papers some of the more enjoyable to read.”

Garza instantly tossed a second glance at the girl.

“Before you ask, she has kept every last one.”  Brent had him.  “All that’s missing are a few meaningless introductory meetings.  You help me get out of here on time and I’ll set up a meeting for you two.”

Garza eagerly shook his hand and nodded in agreement.  Returning his pad to his pocket, Brent left the classroom with a smile on his face.  The students entering for the next lecture nodded politely to him as he left.  As the doorway started to seal behind him, he could hear Garza starting his lecture - an exuberant inflection in his voice.  Brent started walking toward the exit and came to a stop after twenty steps.