Vortex incursion, p.32
Vortex Incursion, page 32
“Do I think what will happen?” Doell queried.
“Do you think output won’t improve after every clone is repaired, receives a cid, and is awarded a contract?” Nala elaborated.
“How should I know?” Doell complained.
“Director, maybe you should spend some time in the mines without your comfort and your compensation,” Auburn suggested. “Then you might know the answer to the question. Humans work hard if they think they’re receiving fair treatment and compensation for their work.”
“How much of the projected loss will be recovered and how soon?” Doell ventured, but he was met with hard eyes from the clones.
Doell had lived on rim planets his entire life, and he’d never seen clones stare at humans like this. Suddenly, his thoughts froze, and he glanced guiltily at Peña and Merlie, wondering if they had intuited his mental faux pas. In thinking about the clones, he’d not categorized them as human.
“Director Doell, there is an alternative,” Idreid, the fourth male clone, offered.
“Really? What?” asked Doell, his interest piqued.
“If you don’t want to support our transition to citizens, we can always instigate a work stoppage,” Idreid proposed.
“Clones support dome functions,” Elisabeth Flaum, the facilities head, suddenly interjected. “A general stoppage could endanger us all.”
“We wouldn’t allow that to happen,” Peña said calmly.
“The stoppage or the dome operations?” Patty Bonnet, comtech’s head, sought to clarify.
“Dome operations would be secured,” Peña replied.
“But that means some sisters would have to abandon mine operations to take care of dome facilities,” Jeffrey Witcher, the engineering head, pointed out.
“That would be the case,” Peña replied.
Doell grasped the sides of his head and groaned. When he gazed around the table, he asked, “We don’t really have a choice, do we?”
“Profits will fluctuate, Director,” Merlie replied. “Your planet’s population is transitioning to a more stable future.”
“I don’t think we’ve enough cids to implant a third of the clones,” Saran Auernhammer, the personnel head, said.
“I imagine the sisters know exactly the count of clones and cids,” Harlyn said gently to Saran. “They’ll probably source them from another planet, won’t you, Peña?”
“Naiad,” Peña replied. “It’s time to take a trip.”
“How many will go? What happens if Miriamal returns?” Doell blurted.
“When the Storyteller sails, it’ll be minimally crewed,” Peña replied. “We’ll take one traveler. That leaves two of them here. Xena and I have spoken. She won’t allow Miriamal or any of her sisters to land.”
Doell and the department heads, except for Harlyn and Ricardo, were stunned.
Knut chuckled, and eyes turned toward him. He gazed earnestly at Peña. “If it was allowed, I’d love to be part of a space battle.”
Peña and Merlie laughed. The thought of the veteran pilot wanting to have another epic adventure, even if it meant the loss of his life, was an element about biologicals that had long been absent from their existences.
“If and when that scenario occurs, speak to Xena, Knut,” Peña said, smiling at the aging pilot. “She may grant your wish.”
“I’d like to sail with you,” Harlyn said. “I’d like to see my husband and son. It’s been years.”
Peña regarded Doell, who shrugged his shoulders. “Why not?” he said.
“If you’re going to Naiad, I need stocks replenished,” Kornel Havel, the medical director, said.
Immediately, the opportunity for resupply of critical items occurred to the department heads, and they started speaking as one.
Peña held up her hands to quiet them. “Prepare your lists,” she said. “Merlie will organize them.”
“I assume that Beta Two has credits available on Naiad?” Merlie inquired.
Doell’s mouth dropped open for the second time.
“The credit accounts belong to X-Ore, don’t they?” Merlie posited.
“They do,” Lemil replied.
“Director Doell, do you have permission to transfer the credits for payment of supplies?” Merlie asked.
“I do, but it’s usually done through a requisition generated by our finance department,” Doell said. “It’s coded and sent through the comm stations.”
“I’ll secure the requisitions from Lemil,” Merlie said, “Don’t be concerned about the authentications. They can be easily constituted.”
“So, you’re heading to Naiad, loading supplies, and returning?” Jeffrey asked.
“My trip isn’t limited to that destination and that activity,” Peña replied. “Auburn, Evest, and Dybra will be traveling with me. They wish to address the Naiad Council. In addition, I expect Cremsylon and the Alexander are stationed at Delhart. I wish to learn about the newest events in this region of space.”
“Do I detect concerns?” Ricardo asked.
Peña swiftly reviewed her dialect settings. She had made her statements using characterizations that humans appreciated. Rather than shift the code, she let the settings remain.
“The disposition of fleet ships isn’t what I would have expected,” Peña replied. “As a courtesy, Captain Racine’s fleet should have returned for a second visit. That they haven’t makes me think that something occupies their time.”
“When do you launch?” Knut asked.
“When Merlie is ready,” Peña replied. “Remember, I’ve only the one carrier. Don’t get carried away with your orders.”
Peña and Merlie left the humans laughing.
Soon after, the clones excused themselves.
“We did it,” Dybra celebrated, when the clones were in the building’s elevator. Hugs were exchanged all around.
“Who would have thought it?” Evest said, shaking his head in wonder.
“Are you two thinking of staying on Naiad?” Auburn asked, eyeing Dybra and Evest.
Immediately, the two male clones denied the idea.
“I admit I thought about it,” Evest said, “but I felt I would be deserting my brothers and sisters. Besides, I don’t have any credits yet. I have to keep working.”
“That too,” Dybra added, pointing at Evest.
Then the four male clones regarded Auburn, who laughed at them. “Not me,” she said. “I’ve got work to do on this planet, and I’m not about to throw away the opportunity we’ve been given.”
“Why do you say it like that?” Nala inquired.
“Think about it,” Auburn replied. “Beta Two can be the first to convert clones to full-fledged civilians. Why do we have to stop there? There are other mining planets.”
“True,” Idreid agreed. “And who’s to say what’s been happening on other mining planets? Listening to Peña, there might be more going on than we could have imagined.”
In the conference room, Doell’s mind was reengaged. A supply run could do wonders for the entire population. “Forget what Peña said about having a single carrier,” he said. “Make up your lists. Prioritize the items, and group them in order of importance. Lemil, cut a requisition for each group of materials ordered.”
“If this works, we might request Peña make a semiannual run to Naiad,” Elisabeth suggested.
“Good idea,” Doell returned.
“You know, the clones might have a point,” Jeffrey mused.
“What?” Doell inquired.
“In the mines, we calculate daily ore output based on the crew size,” Jeffrey explained. “In our calculations, we separate the clones from the civilian miners. Then we apply a percentage of less than one to the clone number before we add it to the civilian count.”
Doell stared perplexedly at the mining engineer. “Why wasn’t I informed about this?” he asked.
“It’s always been part of the engineering minutiae,” Jeffrey replied. “In most cases, my reports have always been about the various ore output. No one cared how we got the ore out of the shafts.”
“Okay, okay,” Doell said, waving off Jeffrey’s point about ops directors failing to care about how their departments were run. “What was your point about the clones?”
“It’s this. We adjust the percentage up and down based on the ages of the clones and the extent of their injuries,” Jeffrey replied.
“The older and the more injured the more the percentage goes down?” Harlyn inquired.
Jeffrey nodded.
“How low?” Harlyn persisted.
“I’ve seen the number drop a little below zero-point-five,” Jeffrey admitted.
Most of the department heads were aghast, and Saran looked guilty.
“You mean clone mining crews could have been operating at half the output rate of civilian miners?” Doell asked.
“The number has usually varied between a half and three quarters,” Jeffrey replied. “It’s been the nature of clone operations ever since I’ve been an engineer.”
Rather than be depressed by the discovery, Doell brightened. “Then, if the clones are repaired and paid, that percentage should go up appreciably,” he said.
“I would imagine their work output would be equivalent to the civilians,” Jeffrey hazarded to guess.
“Think about it, Director,” Ricardo interjected. “As long as we have the Jatouche tanks, any seriously injured miners can experience a full recovery. That’ll keep the output per person at a maximum.”
Doell had a pleased expression on his face. He saw a way of eliminating the worst of the expected net revenue loss.
Below the dome surface, Peña and Merlie met with Xena and Fatima.
Peña acknowledged.
Merlie interjected.
The three sisters didn’t locate Elisabeth’s slate in her office. They found her headed across the surface and surmised she was headed to her apartment for midday meal.
Working their way to an adjacent dome, Merlie was soon tapping on the apartment’s door panel.
When the door opened, a youth of about fourteen years smiled broadly and said, “Rich O-two! Sisters!”
Having heard his brother, the seventeen year old quickly came into view, and he indelicately stared up and down the sisters’ striking avatars.
“We request to see your mother,” Merlie said, drawing away the older boy’s eyes from Fatima.
“What about?” the older teenager replied, acting as if he had control over who saw his mother.
“These children are a waste of time,” Fatima remarked. “Let Miriamal and her kind blow the domes. Then we’ll see how rich the oxygen is for these unruly ones.”
The sisters hid their smirks and whirled as one. Behind them, they heard, “Wait, wait!”
Then the younger boy called out, “Mother, sisters are here to see you.”
Elisabeth came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a cloth. Her apartment clone was enjoying the day off, which left lunch preparations to her.
“What is wrong with you two?” Elisabeth asked her sons. To the sisters, she said, “Please, come inside.”
“They’re talking about Miriamal blowing the domes,” the seventeen year old remarked, trying to resurrect his ego.
“Whatever the sisters are discussing, it isn’t for the likes of you two,” Elisabeth admonished. “Get into the kitchen and finish setting up for lunch.”
With glances over their shoulders, the teenagers retreated.
“Apologies,” Elisabeth said, “The boys, especially the older one, are reaching that age where they think the world belongs to them.”
“You might consider assigning them to the mines for a short period,” Xena suggested.
Elisabeth was momentarily stunned. Then she laughed, assuming it had been a joke, and Xena smiled, content to allow the woman to think she hadn’t been serious.
“How can I help you?” Elisabeth asked.
“You spoke of a gaming system where your boys spent too much time,” Merlie said. “May we investigate it?”
“Surely, although I’m not that great an operator,” Elisabeth replied.
“Perhaps, the children could demonstrate it for us?” Fatima suggested. She intended her question for the two boys who hid on the other side of the kitchen wall and were eavesdropping on their conversation.
Xena sent privately.
Elisabeth called to her sons and directed them to show the sisters their gaming system.
The sisters noted that in the presence of their mother, the teenagers acted well-behaved.
“Any particular game?” the eldest asked.
“Ship-to-ship combat with fighters,” Xena promptly replied, which halted the boys’ hands.
When the humans gazed at the sisters, Merlie remarked, “The practice might come in handy for us.”
After the teenagers played a truncated version of their fighter game, Fatima asked, “Can the strategic complexity be increased?”
“Assuredly,” the younger boy replied. “You can build your own scenarios.” Then he walked the sisters through the menu directory.
“Perfect,” Merlie commented, smiling. “Elisabeth, we’d like to borrow the gaming device for the time being.”
“Absolutely,” Elisabeth said, before the boys could object. “It’s a heavy cubicle. You’ll probably need a cart for the transfer.”
“Shut down the system,” Fatima directed, and she watched the method. Then she disconnected the power line.
When the boys realized the sisters were about to take the cubicle, they quickly exited their seats.
Merlie led the way out, opening the apartment door, as Xena and Fatima carried the heavy game cubicle. To Elisabeth, she said, “We’ll return for the chairs and the ancillary equipment.”
“I can’t believe you let the sisters take our gamer,” the seventeen year old objected.
Elisabeth wheeled around and stared hard at the older teenager. “What do you think the sisters want with your console?” she asked. “Do you think they want some entertainment?”
“I don’t know?” the elder youth tossed off.
“Then I want you to think about it,” the mother retorted. “When you come up with some reasonable guesses, I’ll allow the cubicle back into the apartment.”
Elisabeth returned to the kitchen. Behind her, the younger brother glared at his sibling, angered about the older brother’s disruptive attitude and foolishness. Then he followed his mother into the kitchen.
Merlie, Xena, and Fatima set up the gaming cubicle in a private bay. After powering the console, they studied the programs.
Peña arrived in time to observe Xena and Fatima launch the first fighter game. It ended with their mutual destruction. In fact, the next several games ended the same way.
Not long after that, an eager veteran pilot rushed into the bay. “I always wanted to play on one of these consoles,” Knut said. “I never had the credits to afford one.”
“Please, Knut, take my seat,” Fatima said, rising.
Xena walked Knut through the programs, the controller, and the specific game they were playing. When she finished, she asked, “Are you ready, pilot?”
“Oh, yes,” Knut replied, leaning back in his reclining chair.
The console’s holo-projection surrounded his face. His eyes would provide cues for the fighter’s orientation, and his hands would use the armrest controls to maneuver the ship and fight the weaponry.
In short order, Knut lost the first six games, but he was improving.
The seventh and eighth games resulted in mutual annihilation.
“Again,” Knut urged, displaying a predatory grin.
Xena fought her ship and recognized a gambit that Knut had previously executed. She maneuvered to defend against the attack, but Knut’s fighter wasn’t in the expected position. Instead, his ship came at her from a rear quarter, and he destroyed her.
After that game, Xena couldn’t win.
“Allow me to try,” Fatima requested.
Knut sat his chair upright, which turned off his holo-projection.
“No, Knut, you stay there,” Fatima said, placing a hand on the pilot’s shoulder.
That’s when Knut noticed Xena had already exited her chair.
“Good lessons, Knut,” Xena complimented.
Five games later, the score was Fatima zero and Knut five.
