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Nellie and the Nanites - Bk3 - Ch.21
🕑 Added 2024-05-07 08:00:03 +0000 UTCChapter 21
A Colony in Peril.
“What are the results?” Nancy asked anxiously. “Did we win?”
“Brix has been replaced as Mayor,” Hadrian said with a frown.
“Then why, can I ask, are you frowning?” Warrick growled. “Did our candidate somehow fail to win?”
“No, but it is the numbers that are the problem,” Hadrian said, throwing the pad down on the council table. “I am beginning to think we may have made a serious error in judgment.”
The three were having their usual pre-meeting meeting. It had become their ritual to ensure that the colony went in the direction they wanted. None of the three had joined Duke’s arc plans to support him; rather, they had always intended to make the necessary changes to ensure they were in the driving seat. Things had certainly been made difficult thanks to a certain Marshall, not to mention the complications of the sudden addition of the Last Chances crew.
“How?” Nancy asked smugly. “We have now got control of the Council, the medical industry belongs to me, and the new Mayor is Warrick’s pet. Where did we make an error?”
“I fail to see what the numbers matter,” Warrick said, smiling a little. “We won, what else matters?”
“I can answer that,” Duke said, surprising the three, who all wheeled to see him at the door.
“Duke, we were just–” Nancy started.
“Oh, spare me,” Duke shook his head. “I may have been a fool, but give me some credit to know enough to recognize the daggers in my back.”
“Oh, so you think you should move against us?” Warrick smiled.
“Hadrian, you treacherous bastard,” Duke growled. “Would you like to tell them, or shall I?”
“I think it will be easier for them to accept if I tell it,” Hadrian drew himself to his feet.
Elections are funny things. In the most basic sense, they tell you who won a vote. That is what most people pay attention to, but that is only the most basic and superficial aspect of them. There is a reason why politicians and strategists spend so much time and money on analyzing the results of votes.
For most people, these details are meaningless, but when you pay attention, you can see the truth behind the truth.
A vote can tell you who voted, how fast they turned up to vote, what parts of the group voted, and so on. It was here that the council was missing the point.
Whatever the politicians want you to believe, some votes matter more than others. That was never more true than in the case of the Colony.
“Three things this colony needs, this council needs, to survive the dangers of starting anew are security, supplies, and trust.” Hadrian said, his hands clasped behind his back, “That means we need to be safe from dangers without, and within, materials to build and grow food, as well as make new items. For that we need an armed security force, and we need farmers, miners, and crafters. More than that, the workers need to feel safe. They have to trust each other, and us.”
“And the numbers somehow show we don’t?” Nancy asked.
“We won 54% of the vote,” Hadrian replied. “Thirty percent of that came from our own people—the people we directly control or employ. The other 24% came from the people who support us and our new system.”
“That should be enough, surely?” Warrick asked. “More will come over to the winning side; they always do.”
“Yes, but it is where those supporters come from that is the problem,” Hadrian picked up the pad, “We have the support of 78% of the merchants, 40% of the crafters, and so on. But from the army members who currently form the backbone of our supply chain, 5%. From the farmers? 2% From the builders, engineers, and such? 12%.”
“That is problematic,” Warrick said, sitting back in his chair. “Surely we can offer incentives, some small concessions?”
“Perhaps,” Hadrian agreed, “The situation there is worrying but not an outright disaster, yet.”
“So, we have work to do,” Nancy shrugged. “I fail to see why you think it is so dire.”
“Show them the map,” Duke said as he sat with a grim smile. “They are failing to see the importance of the numbers; maybe pictures would help.”
Warrick turned to sneer, only to freeze as Hadrian pulled up a hologram of the colony.
“How accurate is this?” Nancy asked quietly.
“Perfectly,” Hadrian said, sitting heavily in his own chair.
The image of their sprawling colony rotated slowly, showing the votes for the two candidates. The northern half of the colony was clearly in favor of the new Mayor, with a few clusters of votes for Brix here and there. Things got more even as they closed into the center of the colony, until just past the main square, where suddenly and completely, the votes were exclusively for Brix.
What was worse, the voters were all clustered tightly together in one part of the colony, with easily twice the population density of any other area.
The Marshall’s Quarter.
“We didn’t move even half that number of people there!” Nancy protested.
“Why is this area so empty?” Warrick pointed to the area south of the main square, where barely any votes showed.
“People moved to the Marshall’s Quarter,” Hadrian said.
“They chose to live in squalor?” Nancy asked in disbelief.
“It is hardly squalor,” Duke smiled thinly. “Have you even looked that way recently?”
“Allow me,” Hadrian said, pulling up another file. This one showed the Marshall’s Quarter as it was on the day they assigned Crush and the others to move there. “Here is how it looks now.” The sparse collection of battered and damaged compartments was replaced with multi-story constructions with walkways and balconies, as well as an extension of the colony wall that nearly surrounded the entire quarter.
Nancy blanched as Warrick swore.
“As you can see, they have a clear advantage in skilled workers, in addition to a united people, and are more organized than any other group.” Hadrian went on. “But more than that, they feel safe, with people trading and working at all hours, while the rest of the colony is locked up tight by the time the curfew takes effect.”
“How are they allowed out after curfew?” Nancy asked.
“Because no one stops them, and none of the Security Force you started dare go in there.” Hadrian shrugged.
“In short,” Duke said, standing, “Your actions are mere days away from tearing this colony in two.”
===<<<>>>===
“Last Chances to Colonial Control,” Her comm officer called again, and Brenda felt herself losing her temper by the time she eventually got an answer.
“Colonial Control, sorry for the delay. Last Chances, go ahead.” The voice was just apologetic enough for her to hold on to her temper, at least a little.
“This is Captain Brenda DeVore. “We are inbound with a second ship hull. Please inform my crew on site to prepare for our arrival,” Brenda snapped.
“Consider it done, Captain DeVore. Glad you are back; there are a lot of people who are going to be happy to see you.” The comm line clicked closed.
The conversation bothered Brenda all the way through her approach to the moon but was almost entirely forgotten when her scan tech gasped. “Captain! We are detecting a station sharing the moon’s orbital path!”
“You’re what?” Brenda gave the woman a hard stare. “A station that we never knew was there?”
“Our previous approach and exit must have kept it in the scan shadow of the moon, Captain!” The tech straightened, trying not to quiver. “I am picking up ID beacons, energy signatures, and more. It appears occupied and active.”
“I’m seeing a capital ship docked and several orbiting satellites.” The first officer brought up an image on the main screen, and Brenda ground her teeth. It was the damn Bly. Trust that damn woman to have made nice with whoever it was.
“Open communications with the station,” Brenda said with a determined expression. “I want to make an appropriate introduction.”
No wonder the woman couldn’t give two shits about the damn moon; she was trading with a fucking station and who knows what else.
“Last Chances calling….” The comm officer paled.
“What the hell are you doing?” Brenda demanded. “You can’t cut off mid-transmission; we’ll look like amateurs!”
“Last Chances calling Bly’s Rest,” The comm officer winced as Brenda started to swear.
Unlike the colony, the station answered immediately.
“Bly’s Rest responding, go ahead Last Chances,” a rich male voice answered immediately.
“We are inbound and request permission to dock,” Brenda said, making up her mind instantly. “I understand relations are strained, but we would appreciate the courtesy.”
“Docking granted, Last Chances. However, you will have to leave the ship you have under tow outside the range of the station.” Again, prompt and friendly response.
“We would rather not,” Brenda said with a smile. “It might get stolen.”
“Then we will have to decline, Last Chances,” The reply was still polite, but she could hear the conviction in it. “It is clearly stolen, and we will be forced to seize it if you should dock with it.”
Brenda almost snarled but caught herself. Despite appearances, she was not some rabid dog, just highly motivated, and so… she could play nice if it got her on the station.
“We are intending to gift our salvaged ship to the colony, could we send it down and then dock?” Brenda asked.
“Certainly, we’ll see you soon, Last Chances,” The comm line clicked closed.
She tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair and watched her first officer raise his eyes to her, waiting for orders.
“Let’s drop the freighter off and pick up the rest of the crew,” Brenda said at last. “There might be an opportunity here.”
That turned out to be a lot more complicated task than Brenda had hoped. Apparently, the whole Colony was up in arms, and her Third was mixed up in all of it. Brenda knew it was important to her brother, so she promised to come back later and sort it all out, but for now, she needed every member of her crew.
She dropped the bombshell of her discovery of the space station and left with her crew.
She left dealing with the third officer for later as well. Whatever had happened would still have happened in a few hour's time, but the world could shift in less time than that.
“Okay, everyone,” Brenda had summoned her entire crew to the central mess to brief them. “This could very well be the big score we hoped for. A whole station, just sitting there, all pretty and shit.” This got a few titters and dutiful laughs, and Brenda took careful note of those who didn’t. “There is no way they can have enough people to run it, so we could be able to take the whole thing, maybe get their ship at the same time.”
She let that sink in and saw the greedy smiles on their faces. It was why she liked her crew. Simple people, ones she could understand, who shared her own willingness to get what they wanted, no matter the cost to others.
“I’ll go aboard first, with the bridge crew, scope the place out.” Brenda felt her pulse begin to race as she saw it in her mind. “When First gives the signal, you will ALL rush the docks. We kill anyone there and lock the docking clamps down. From there, we move floor to floor, clear ‘em out, and have a party tonight in my brand-new space station!”
“Captain?” Second Smidt stood respectfully and waited for Brenda to nod before speaking. “What if they are too well defended?”
“Then I give no signal, and you all stay on the fucking ship,” First Berrata snapped at the woman.
“Let’s be serious here,” Brenda chuckled. “How well-defended could they be?”
The answer to that quickly became alarmingly apparent as the scan readings on the satellites came back. Six orbiting weapons platforms were surrounding the station, and their constant movement would make any safe angle of attack a temporary advantage at best.
The next unpleasant surprise came when two ships came out to ‘escort’ them into the dock. Both of them were heavily armed, to the point she was reasonably certain they could do some serious damage to her improved shields on their own.
“N.S.S. Indomitable, N.S.S. Legacy, clearing from escort positions, welcome to the Bly’s Rest,” The friendly voice was tempered by the fact their weapons had been lit the entire time they were acting as escort, and Brenda had to admire the show of force.
“Thank you, Indomitable, Legacy,” First Barrata replied crisply. “We are in position for docking now.”
Brenda was out of her chair, and on the way to the airlock the moment they felt the docking clamps engage. She brought her First, Second, and Third with her, along with the master at arms. The sheer size of the man was enough to have made most of her enemies think twice, and Brenda was feeling slightly intimidated.
It was not a feeling she enjoyed.
Or was used to.
She noted uncomfortably that the short umbilical between them and the dock was retractable. It would take them less than a second to cut the tube in case of an attack, and she was already pretty sure it would be suicide even to try.
The moment the airlock opened on the far side and Brenda saw the main floor of Bly’s Rest, she knew it would be.
She could see twenty armed and alert-looking robotic guards in sight of the airlock alone, with people moving back and forth constantly across the large open space. Every one of them seemed to have not the slightest worry in the world about the new arrivals.
“Welcome to the Bly’s Rest, Captain DeVore,” An officious-looking brackta woman approached, with a pair of the robotic guards following dutifully behind. Brenda ignored them in favor of the two men with her. One had the easy smile and twinkling eyes of a born smuggler, while the other… the other made her blood run cold. She had seen many killers, often hiring them on her crew, but there was something different about people like the man who was introduced as Security Chief Remy.
A bastard recognizes a bastard, and while Brenda considered herself a died-in-the-wool, hard-nosed, cold-hearted bastard to her core, she knew this man was worse. And so did he.
They were given a short tour, shown where shops would be, and more. Of course, it was all a pantomime.
The message they were being given was pretty straightforward: Fuck with us, and you won’t live long enough to regret it.
That message was only reinforced when they passed the shipyard—an actual functioning shipyard—and saw one of the ships, like the ones used to escort the Last Chances, under construction.
If there had been a time to attack them, it had long passed, and Brenda would put money on them never having had any chance in the first place.
“I’d love to see about hiring this station to build us a ship or two,” Brenda said as they arrived back at the airlock.
“No, I don’t think so,” Salem, the administrator, said with a smile. “Our ships will be for sale eventually, but you have so far failed to prove any good intentions. Or did you think the shielding you stole from somewhere would stop us from sensing the entire crew of the Last Chances is armed and waiting to attack?”
Brenda blinked, at a loss for what to say for the first time in a long time.
Finally, she burst out laughing and smiled widely. “Oh, I like you lot.” Brenda ushered the others back towards her ship, still chuckling. “We’ll be friends, just wait and see!”
She was still grinning when they got back to the bridge and undocked.
“Captain?” Burrata asked, clearly unsure what to do.
“We are going to be very friendly to that lot,” Brenda said simply. “I know a future power when I see one, and let me tell you, First, they are not someone we want to have to worry about,”
“Then what are your plans, Captain?” Barrata pressed. “Do we remain here or return to the sectors?”
“Fuck no,” Brenda said. “First, we change everything about this ship and that freighter in case we run into whatever the fucking Imperial Line is, then we copy our new neighbors and start to build something.” She looked over the scans. “My brother has his little moon; well, I fancy my own planet. Maybe even a whole star system.”
“Back to the colony then?” he asked.
“Back to the colony,” Brenda confirmed. “We’ll hide out while we strip and rebuild the ships, then head off into the black again.”
“Aye, Captain,” Barrata grinned.
