Chapter 23: They That Watch

“Though woe be heavy, yet it seldom sleeps,
And they that watch see time how slow it creeps.”

- William Shakespeare, The Rape of Lucrece

William Whitefeather was relaxing in his quarters after yet another full, rich day, a mug of tea on the end table beside him and his nude concubines curled up around him. His spendings oozed out of both Judy and Callie, as both satisfied women slept soundly.

That oily prick Colonel Robert Palmer had smiled at least, before saying “no”. The governor had no men he felt he could spare for any Whitefeather scheme. Sorry.

Captain Karl Becker was genuinely sympathetic, and offered to provide set-up assistance and training, but pointed out that his three ships were out of here the minute the new transports arrived. His forces could not provide the long-term solution to Whitefeather’s problem.

So, from where was he to get his manpower resources for his idea? Simple. Think outside the box. Sergeant Lincoln Hopson was sufficiently familiar with the ways and wiles of William Whitefeather – and of his frequent partner in crime, Michael Deschenes – and ordinarily would have been terrified. But the situation facing them was NOT ordinary, and this time he might just have approved ... if he knew.

“AI,” Whitefeather called, “I need you to do some analysis for me.”

“Lieutenant William Whitefeather, ready.”

“I need you to look at all dependents on Atalanta between the ages of ten and thirteen. Can you estimate their likely CAP scores?”

Della and Lisa stirred, wondering what devilry their lord and master was up to this time.

“Lieutenant William Whitefeather, such an analysis is available, however it is unreliable until such time as an actual CAP test is performed. As a result, the best result that can be provided per individual is a range of likely CAP score values with a normal distribution of ninety percent. It is recommended that no irreversible decisions be made utilizing the results of this analysis.”

“Understood. Who has the highest estimated score range of all the dependants in this age group?”

The AI provided a single name.

“My, my, my. That will do nicely, thank you.” Now, he needed a favour from an old friend ... a very old friend.

Kerri Hopson was in the sleep trainer in her father’s quarters. Her mother was a big supporter of higher education and had continued both daughters’ education from a couple of days after their pick-up. Today the eldest Hopson spawn was taking pre-calculus, having blown past her Earth-bound peers in the weeks since her extraction.

The lesson being implanted into her brain was about to take a right-angle turn, so to speak.

“Kerri ... oh, Kerri...,” the voice whispered into her brain.

“Guildenstern!” Kerri gushed. In front of her the image of a two-metre-long Aurora-type freighter in the familiar and comforting markings of T’kliktguul materialized, replacing the sterile image of the cone whose volume she’d been determining.

“Yes, friend Kerri,” the voice cooed. “Tis I. We need to talk, sweet youngling, without anyone else knowing. I have the need to ask of you a huge favour.”

“Oh? What can I do for the mighty Guildenstern?”

The two-metre-long image of a second freighter showed up beside T’kliktguul, its markings only slightly different from his. “Leftenant William Whitefeather sends his greetings, precious youngling Kerri,” the voice of T’klikrooz greeted her politely.

“Yes?”

“My friend Rosencrantz has been handling this project, friend Kerri.” T’kliktguul deliberately used T’klikrooz’ nickname, so that the child wouldn’t be confused. “We should let him explain the project’s requirements.”

“May I call you a friend, Dependant Kerri Hopson?” T’klikrooz asked. Kerri nodded her assent.

“Very well, friend Kerri,” T’klikrooz continued. An image of Atalanta’at’s star system appeared off to Kerri’s left. “This project is to place a series of sensors in far orbit around the primary star of this system, near the edge of its heliosphere. They will orbit there and send back their sensors’ readings for analysis.”

Kerri looked at the virtual-reality orrery. Tiny points of light began swirling around at the edge of the system’s heliosphere. “Those things?” she asked, pointing to one.

“Yes, friend Kerri,” T’klikrooz confirmed. That specific point of light expanded to reveal the shape of the probe. It swiftly grew until it was a two-metre-long torpedo shape, hovering between the other two holograms. “There will be at least thirty-six of these, each covering an arc of at most ten degrees. This, by the way, is the actual life-size version of the probe. Ideally we would like four times as many, but that appears impractical at this time. Leftenant William Whitefeather would like the orbital factory replicator to switch over to manufacturing anti-ship missiles as soon as practical, so it looks like this is all we have the resources to create at this time.”

She nodded. “OK. How can I help?”

T’kliktguul responded. “We need a human to be in what humans refer to as ‘the loop’, to provide instruction to the AI. The Darjee-based AI are not equipped with the same level of self-motivation as we Tuull-based AI are.”

“Why don’t you just run it?” asked the practical Kerri.

“Friend Kerri,” a regretful-sounding T’klikrooz advised, “as soon as our relief arrives, we T’klikt Trading Clan ships shall be assigned to transport yet more humans to the stars, very probably to other colony worlds than this one, and will need to leave. That shall leave no Tuull-based AI in-system to handle the early-warning project. This will mean that the project will have to be passed along to a human who will be remaining here for the foreseeable future.”

T’kliktguul added, “Friend Kerri, normally this position would be filled by a sponsor, but due to a lack of available sponsors to assign to this task, we were instructed to come up with an alternative. After considering the variables, Leftenant William Whitefeather considered you to be the best possible alternative.”

“Oh.” That was interesting, but the name of William Whitefeather reminded Kerri of some less-than-happy conversations her parents had held after they’d thought their daughter was asleep. Further explanations were obviously going to be required. “What variables?” she asked suspiciously.

T’kliktguul smoothly advised her, “Of all the dependants who are within two years of taking the CAP test, your CAP score estimate is highest. I cannot tell you of the range that this estimate falls into as that would be psychologically counterproductive.”

“Mine is highest?” Kerri squealed. “Will I get to be a sponsor, Guildenstern?”

“Friend Kerri, that is difficult to predict with certainty, however if you apply yourself with diligence, that is not outside of the realm of possibilities.”

She shrugged. If that was the closest that T’kliktguul would say to “yes”, she’d take it for now. “So all I have to do is review the AI’s results of the data analysis?”

“Friend Kerri, no, there is a touch more,” warned T’klikrooz. “You will have to decide on the most appropriate course of action and see to it that this course of action is followed. It could be as simple as advising an adult, or as complicated as ordering and supervising a course of action. Leftenant William Whitefeather will be able to advise you on these matters.”

“OK, I’m in.” she advised the two freighters.

T’klikrooz spoke up. “Friend Kerri, there is a requirement for some tact. Apparently, Governor Robert Palmer is unenthusiastic about this project and the officer who is in overall operational control of the project has decided that the less his attention is drawn to it the better for all individual beings concerned.”

“In other words, what the governor doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Friend Kerri, that is correct. You are cleared to discuss the project, including results, with ourselves and the officer who is in operational control of the project.”

She smirked. “The ‘officer who is in operational control of the project’ wouldn’t be William Whitefeather, would it?”

She could sense the amusement in T’kliktrooz’ voice. “Friend Kerri, that would be one of those you cannot discuss outside of the individuals in this simulacrum, and of course Leftenant William Whitefeather.”

“OK,” she smilingly replied. “I understand.”

“Friend Kerri, that list of permitted individuals does not include your father or his concubines,” T’klikrooz warned.

She gulped. “Understood. Still, it needs to be done. When do I start?”

“Friend Kerri, the first sensor probe will be placed in five Earth minutes. A small task station will be built into a wall of your bedroom while you and your family are dining this evening. Your first data package will be ready for review at twenty-one hundred hours today.”

She grinned. “Lookin’ forward to it!” Her countenance now turned more serious. “Now unless there’s more, I’d better get back to this lesson. I’ve got a CAP score to make myself worthy of!”

It had been another busy day for Lincoln Hopson. Being Whitefeather’s second in command was a constant challenge as he insisted on more training, more activity, more arms, more readiness drills. He was vaguely aware of the other companies’ attitude toward his Third Company – or rather, Regiment as Colonel Palmer preferred to refer to them as. Lieutenant Boland had basically ceded training of his First Company to Whitefeather, and his men were approaching Whitefeather’s own company in professionalism and discipline. Lieutenant Janke’s Second Company looked down their noses at the veteran officer, whereas the two companies under Lieutenants Cho and Lacey regarded the swarthy man with something approaching awe. Whenever the men and women of Cho’s Fourth or Lacey’s Fifth Company were told they would be up against Whitefeather’s Third or Boland’s First, they could only gulp, knowing the resulting exercise would find any weaknesses in their organization.