Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (76 page)

“Well, I can assure you my people are top notch,” Doctor Milligram said, affronted. “They are after all, the real deal. Only a Ssilli is better. In our case though, I think they suit our needs better. Less life support and obviously easier to interact with and condition.”

“I know,” Doctor Nutell answered with a grimace. “We've had some samples of Ssilli over the centuries and even some carcasses. I've read reports that some have been found alive if you can believe it. Unfortunately, someone decided to use them and not return them to the homeworld for proper processing. And even if they did, the best I could do now is place them in stasis and study their abilities remotely or through vivisection. The emperor has put a moratorium on exploring their use for the empire unfortunately,” he explained.

Doctor Milligram was about to ask why when a pointed look make him close his mouth with a snap. He nodded slowly. “Well, then, we'll just have to make do with what I've brought in,” he said with a nod to the image of his subjects.

:::{)(}:::

News of recent events and battles hit the Imperial court hard. A ball had been arranged in advance to celebrate Prince Kevin's fourteenth birthday. The prince had been allowed special dispensation to be absent from his studies at the academy to attend the event. The emperor had intended to skip the event, but his wife had pointed out that was no longer possible. The public needed to see a rather public image of the court going on with business as usual, even taking the news in stride.

All the while court intrigue boiled below the surface. The families were still reacting in different ways to the news. They were also reacting to the loss of Fourth Fleet and the arrival of von Berk's “treasures.”

Since the gala was attended by many powerful and prominent people, the dowager and empress made it mandatory for the emperor to attend … to at least help with the small discussions that normally happened in the shadows of such events.

He watched out a vid screen simulation of a window, brushing the thin curtain aside to see courtiers beginning to arrive in their finery. The black and white limos and limo air cars came in a steady stream. The red carpet was out; everyone was dressed formally and on their best behavior it seemed.

So it behooved him to be on his own, he thought with a twist of his lips. Only this was a child's party, hardly something he should be in attendance to, he thought. Even if it was his own child’s, he thought in annoyance.

The emperor had tapped into the fashion of the court and monitored it, as did his wife and mother. He had been amused that the younger set were defining themselves by following the dress habits of his youngest daughter Khali, going with a more medieval tone. That was fine; it was at least consistent compared to the mixed tones in court. Some curried favor by dressing like him. Others dressed independently to show their independence. Many of those were from Gather Fleet families. They loved to dress as Caribbean pirates with the hat, sashes, and swashbuckling attitude.

He shook his head. They were all fools, he thought. Sure, he was amused when someone sucked up to him, but he wasn't foolish enough to let such surface actions blind him to the intent behind the garb. He knew the dangers of turning his back on anyone, especially now.

Security had better be on its toes he thought as he checked himself in the mirror and then adjusted his sword. His crimson uniform, purple sash, and gold trim was the right look he judged. He nodded to the royal guard and then walked out as they fell in around him.

:::{)(}:::

The following week, as his gift from his father, Prince Kevin eagerly toured Skull Squadron and then the Death Head's Brigade Garrison with his class. He'd seen their demonstration flights and marching during the emperor's day events, but the up close and personal look was absolutely stunning for an impressionable man of his youth.

It surprised and intrigued him that they had such a true love and indifference of death. Many had real skulls built into their helmets and face masks. The Death's Head brigade and others had similar traits, but many had switched over to holographic images or painted on or over the real skulls. His favorite was the blue-flamed soldiers. They had a righteous look to them that sent shivers of dread up his spine when he saw them in full kit. And their powered armor! He sucked in a breath. Absolutely spectacular. He wanted a set of his own. Perhaps next year he thought …

Up until that moment, he hadn't seen why his brother Mason had gone with the Marines. The gore, that sort of crap looked wicked in a game. Seeing the death up close though … he wasn't sure if it was his thing. Proving himself, yeah, he needed to do that. Definitely, he thought, eying the guy with a face mask showing his lips torn off. He shook his head.

“As you can see, we work out a lot,” their guide said as they walked past the gym. Men and a few women were in there on mats as well as in a boxing ring. They played rough. “We train full contact.”

“Do you see combat?” a girl asked.

“To get into any of the elite you've got to be able to hang. That means we only take veterans and only the best of the best,” their guide said as he looked over his shoulder. “The cream you could say,” he said.

The prince overheard some of the soldiers making crude jokes about their uniforms and especially the girls in them. He wanted to say something, but the tour moved on.

“We've got something of an exhibition here,” the guide said, indicating the ring. He had them line up around a small arena.

Seeing them fight hard hands on full contact was one thing, but seeing them test their skills and get injured while fighting Neos was quite another. Kevin was wide eyed like the rest of his class as one by one Neos were brought in to fight. Some even survived. It was a bit like the games he thought, but up close and personal. Definitely ringside seats, he thought, cheering the soldiers on.

It wasn't much of a fight; the Neochimp was a female, most likely a bonobo. She was more interested in getting away than fighting. When she charged the class, eyes wide and fur on end a soldier tased her, then her opponent jumped onto her back. He didn't muck around, just yanked her head back and snapped her neck before she could recover and use her simian strength.

The guide waved a hand. “This is a new innovation. Since the federation has been resurrected, the brass decided to train personnel against the real thing.”

“Sir? Where did we get them? The Neos I mean,” Averly Rico asked, pointing to a Neochimp being hauled out feet first.

“They came from all over,” the instructor stated. He had a blue, glowing tattoo of a skull on his chest. He kept his vest open so they could see hints of it from time to time. The guy was well built and heavily scared, which added a level of lethal brutality to his image. “The damn things breed like rabbits, especially the cats and dogs. But these here in particular came from the gladiator pits,” he said, indicating another worn and limping Neochimp being prodded to the ring. “We want the best for our training here. Part of that training is honing your killer instinct so you won't hesitate when you need it. No sense training against an inferior foe. It leads to complacency, which we need to avoid,” he explained. The class nodded. “We've had enough of that in the past. Too much of underestimating our opponents. That is going to change,” he vowed.

Again the class nodded.

“Yup, we're the best—the best in combat and the best dressed,” the guide said with a grin. “I don't know if you know this, but we do get the occasional deployment outside the star system,” the guide said, waving a hand. “I know there is a squad covering the royals with the Retribution Fleet. They will be their groundside guards if they ever touch planet,” he said.

Kevin frowned briefly as the guide's yellow eyes latched onto his briefly before they swept the room again. “We also deployed a unit to Konohagakure, Destria, and Hinata, among other places I'm probably not supposed to mention,” the sergeant stated.

The bout ended rather quickly with the Neochimp getting in a few licks but then going down when his opponent pulled a knife and shoved it into his stomach.

“That hardly seems fair,” Someone murmured.

“Never give the enemy a chance. There isn't any such thing about fair in combat. Just who lives and who dies,” the guide barked as the soldier in the ring yanked the knife out, walked around the whimpering fetal body, then knelt on him to pin him down and then saw through his neck. When he was finished, he held the severed head up and dribbled the blood all over himself. He stuck his tongue out at the audience. The soldiers laughed and cheered. The head was tossed to them. They bounced it around like volleyball.

“We'll probably clean that up. Boil it and keep it for something,” the sergeant said as Kevin caught the head and then tossed it before it got blood on him. He felt someone touch his shoulder and grimaced. He looked up to see a bloody smear. Averly mouthed oops. Kevin scowled but didn't say anything.

“Come on. We can wash up in the locker room and then head over to the mess. You kids will be able to sit down with some real imperial heroes and talk with them before we've got to get you back to the academy,” the sergeant said.

That earned a muffled cheer from the kids.

:::{)(}:::

Lewis nodded to the praetor as the other man came into the room. Admiral Cartwright flopped down into a chair opposite the OPS officer. He waved off a servant's attempt to bring him a drink.

“In a moment, he said, waving the man aside. The waiter nodded and stepped out of the area to give them some privacy.

“Usually long days end with a long drink,” Lewis stated, indicating his own sour mash. “But you have something else on your mind?”

“I don't want it to go to my stomach, which it might considering the state it is in lately,” the praetor growled sourly.

“That bad?”

“Typical,” the praetor sighed. “Sometimes I wonder why I took the job. The perks definitely aren't enough to pay for the crap you put up with,” he said. “So, I'll rant and rave later. Why don't you head me off by telling me about von Berk's treasure? I heard you had a visitor today,” he said.

“You mean Nutell?” the vice admiral asked. Admiral Cartwright nodded. “Okay, well, top off the list, the claims Doctor Milligram and Linnaeus made have been backed up by proven data in the lab. They can do what they said, and in a controlled environment.”

“Okay,” the praetor drawled.

“Which means we can use them. And if what we've been hearing about is half as accurate as we're fearing, we'll need soon enough.”

“Okay,” the praetor said.

“I'm not just talking about faster normal navigation,” the OPS officer said, waving a hand. “We're talking the ability to hyper skip. To even come in on any vector we choose.”

“Yes, as long as we have the proper navigational aids to handle that task. Remember that,” the praetor warned.

The OPS officer grimaced, then nodded. “Okay, you've got me there. But with them alone we can add 10 percent to our ship's hyperspace efficiency and speed. That's a big boost there. Throw in what we've gotten from
El Dorado
and we're looking at something closer to a thirty or perhaps even 40 percent jump. That will cut transit time between
El Dorado
and the home system down to months.”

The praetor's eyebrows rose in surprise. Slowly he nodded. “Okay, I see where that is valuable. And I know about the strategic advantages.”

“Yes.”

“So, that paid out, or will once we get them into production. For the moment they are a finite resource. I'll definitely make certain they and Milligram aren't fed into the games. So, how do we build off of that success and address the holes? A.I. is the next item on our list,” he stated. “With A.I. our ship efficiency rises and we get that boost to navigation. But we need
reliable
constructs, damn it,” he said.

“To date we haven't kept a captured A.I. for long. They are usually prone to suicide or insanity or complete unreliability,” the vice admiral said with a grimace. “Which means we've abandoned finding a complete A.I. matrix to clone.”

“So we're back to square one?”

“Not quite. R&D have learned a bit from dissecting code over the years of course. It's helped us improve our computer software efficiency.”

“Hell, just stripping out the viruses and crap did that,” the praetor growled. “What about this INTEL bonus Linnaeus mentioned?”

“He might be referring to the captured material from ET and the ships he caught. There wasn't much there; obviously, he didn't bring everything. He left a lot behind in Nuevo Madrid,” Lewis said. Both men scowled. “But it wasn't just what he had that got INTEL's interest,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Apparently Irons was passing out boxes in his wandering years. Little doohickeys about yeah big,” Lewis said, measuring out a box the size of a package of cards with his fingers. “It's a powerful computer with a couple petabytes of memory. He and his A.I. loaded it with all sorts of survival goodies. And of course they tossed in some monitoring and back doors.”

“We know this how?”

“The
Barnacle Bill
and a couple other spy ships brought in samples to Admiral Frost. Frost sent them on to us by courier,” Lewis explained.