03. Report

“How many did you say were recovered?” Ark-5’s Captain, Captain Wallace was asking at the debrief.

“800 sleepers, sir, and seven puppets,” I answered the Captain.

I worked for Ark-5, sort of. Officially I oversaw a Black Operation based out of Outpost Theta, the first unofficially official outpost that was made. We had the most useful medical facilities, capable of cloning limbs and organs to replace any damage done. In fact, my right leg was one such limb. I had decided to keep my left arm as cybernetic. For now, at least. I would consider replacing the limb later. Other than my left arm, my right eye was also no longer flesh and blood. While securing the first Escort ship, we had, my suit lost pressure and it sort of went “pop.” The nerves were still good, at least, so attaching the cybernetic prosthetic eye was a snap. No invasive surgery needed.

A sleeper was someone who was still in one of the Virt-Ps. The virtual pods that allowed us cryo-sleep, so we could survive the potentially 80+ years of the original mission. That was before things went sideways with us hopping galaxies.

“It seems everyone else was offloaded along the way. I had some of our skip capable craft fly to the coordinates to see what we could find, but no one has reported anything other than ‘nothing,’ so far. I was hoping for a suggestion on next steps. From here I’m out of ideas.” It really sucked having to admit you didn’t have a damn clue where to go next.

“Hmm…” the Captain started to pace on his side of the virtual conference room. “The puppets have no memory, like with previous cases?” He was referring to when he had been hijacked.

“None, sir. Also, any idea where we can fit these 800? It’s a representative split from what we had for records of Ark-9. Just shy of 200 military with the rest civilians.”

“Well Commander, are there any that you can use?” There were, but I wasn’t quite sure what the Captain had in mind.

“A few. There are 2 platoons of Marines – though not from the same platoons. I’m always happy to take on more gators, and it looks like a dozen more pilots as well. There are also a few that we can use on the virtual side of things as well.”

-There are also the two AI programmers and a weapons engineer-

I had been through the records before the meeting, I also had the advantage of Neith in case I couldn’t recall any of their specifics.

“Thinking about it, sir, I feel I could also use the AI programmers that they have, and the WE.”

“I’ll run that by Ayers on 11. Shouldn’t be an issue. He may want some of your Jarheads, though.”

“Not an issue, sir.”

“Now, let’s look at the bigger picture. I know you have been spending most of your time jumping from system to system trying to track down our wayward brothers, but have you seen that we have cracked the Escorts navigation systems?”

“No, sir. I saw that I had a message, just haven’t looked at it. I’m a bit... backed up.” It was a little embarrassing to admit that I had some troubles keeping up with the paperwork and reports.

“It is a bit daunting, isn’t it. Get you ‘Claptrap,’ or whatever its name is, to help. That’s what a lot of Rasputin's cycles are used for.” That explained a few things.

Claptrap, or “CL4P-TP” as he designated himself, was a slightly obnoxious It should be noted that our AI were built up and they pulled data from our histories. They then selected their own names as they developed their personas. Hera, the ai in charge of research on Ark-5, modeled herself off of the goddess from Greek mythology. Rasputin had modeled himself off of a drunken Russian Monk who liked stories and keeping tabs on everyone and everything in his domain. I had no idea who or what Claptrap was basing himself off of, but it was better than the other personas that had developed that we had to purge.

“I’ll see if we can do something about that, thanks. So what was in the star charts?”

“Trade.”

“Sir? How does commerce hide in a nav system? Is it trade routes?”

“It sounds like you’ve already dropped off Observer.” It was rhetorical. “There are several space stations within a few light years. According to the primer that you and Observer prepared, we have been able to determine that they are trade outposts, not just standard space stations. We are thinking of sending a diplomatic envoy to see about starting trade negotiations.”

“Who are you planning on having in the group going with the ambassador? Will they be military?” I asked thinking about the thousands of civilians we had which were still in their pods waiting for a colony to be built. The dome was almost done, but there was a lot more to create. Like buildings.

“Not your team, this time. We want to keep you and yours a secret, in case we need a trump card. Speaking of which, how are your scientists doing?” I did not want to have to answer this.

“Honestly?” I waited for him to nod before I continued. “They are a shitshow, sir.” Before he could ask any questions, I hurried to qualify. “They’re an awesome shit show, but a shit show. They have spent the majority of the time since they were ‘conscripted’ debating with Beauty, Grace, and the other Shadows, trying to get sneak previews of everything Observer has been holding out on us for.” Most of my team had started calling Observers people “Shadows,” mostly because they were small black splotches of a gooey mist when manifesting in our reality, and because calling them “Observers People” was a bit too cumbersome.

“Anything good?”

“Not yet, sir. Well, not really. They were able to save us between five and fifteen percent on drive efficacy, increase our Fab output by 20% in some cases, and they have also helped us tune our understanding of the Astral Mathematics that has been taught to us. Mostly the stuff that is beyond my ability to teach it, even though I understand it.”

“So we’re still getting some gains, then. That’s good. What has Hera had to say about it?” The Captain was paying more attention to that than I thought he would.

“She’s verified all the adjustments in her sims. Say’s it’s even given her some ideas. Hera’s big recommendation has also recommended us setting up a comprehensive research AI on Theta.”

“One moment, Jax. Do you expect me to believe that Hera is willing to give up knowledge?”

“Threw me for a loop as well, sir.”

“How big are you going to make it?” The Captain was wearing one hell of a grin. It took a moment to realize I was mirroring him in that.

“Well, I am actually asking Hera to help design it. So far the design she suggested would put the core of our rock in a room about the same size as one of our barracks.” The barracks were designed to hold a full company of Marines.

A slow whistle escaped the Captain's lips.

“How much additional time creating the crystals will that be?” The sheer volume of work had seemingly awed the Captain.

“We decided to ask the Shadows to consult on that, and as long as no additional change recommendations are made, we can be done with the core building in three weeks.”

“How many of them do you have, by the way?” The Captain asked.

“The Shadows, sir? Ten, so far. Observer included. We’re already working on getting them home, but they don’t seem to want to leave this reality until their clan has all been gathered, or accounted as dead.”

The Captain moved to a cabinet in his office and grabbed a couple of glasses and a bottle of scotch.

“Now for something other than business.” The captain poured us each a couple of fingers of the single malt and sat back down.

“Sir?”

“I wanted to talk about Janssens. More accurately the research around the clone of him.”

“Sir, You know this isn’t a topic I want to revisit.”

“I understand, but it’s not what you think. I was hoping you would help set up an organ cloning station in one of the old cargo bays. Now that we have started to offload supplies for our first colony, we need to have access to that if you bite it on one of your missions.” That I could understand.

When my old fireteam sergeant died it almost destroyed me. He had been a friend and teammate for several years, and he was one of the few people I could confide in. I had made the mistake of trying to clone him and repopulate his mind into the clone after he went brain dead on the mission to save Ark-11. When Janssens was reborn into the new body, he could remember the moment that he had died, and he felt betrayed by the fact that I ignored his religion and had all but accused me of pulling him out of heaven.

“I can do that sir.” I chatted with the Captain about a few of the logistic challenges of setting up the facility, and we set up a tentative start date on the project.