Do No Harm Page 7

  Todd reached back to strike a small ship’s bell affixed to his powered chair.

  “Well done, Derek Bailey, well done. It was a great voyage. You served your watch and we are proud to have served with you. You have completed your final watch, now rest in peace.”

  The two stood in silence for a long time. Finally, Neill spoke, “Now what? Do you want to go back?”

  “Neill, there are almost thirty Wrogul back on Azure tending our businesses. Show me this home planet of yours!”

  * * * * *

  Part 2: Verne

  Chapter One

  “You’re kidding, right?” Staff Sergeant Graves asked. “I mean, there’s no way you’re serious…”

  Verne looked down at the slate in his arm, confused. “I do not see the joke you are referring to. This is my application to take my Voluntary Off-World assessment tomorrow, along with the rest of my age group.”

  It wasn’t really “his” age group, as he was only fifteen of the Humans’ standard years’ old, and the rest of his graduating class was 18, but it was the age group he’d been made part of, thus making it his.

  “I understand that is your application,” the staff sergeant replied, “and while I understand you’d like to take the VOWs—and that you consider yourself Human—you don’t actually have the physical characteristics necessary to perform in a Human mercenary company.”

  “I do, too,” Verne said, unsure why Humans always had to start out with the “no” approach, rather than one that looked at the possibilities of a situation. He had spent most of his history classes sure the best inventors were the ones who were aberrant and looked for what could be done, rather than what could not.

  “Well, half of the VOWs are physical. How do you intend to do the pushups, sit-ups, and run?”

  “I can run,” Verne noted. “Maybe not as fast as you, but I can move myself across the ground on my eight arms. If you put up a set of bars over the trial grounds, I’ll bet I can go even faster than you.”

  “But there aren’t bars,” the staff sergeant insisted. “And I’m not even sure how you’d do sit-ups.”

  “Obviously, I do not function physically the same way as you,” Verne said. “Therefore, doing those things is contraindicated. I should follow the assessments used by one of the water races, perhaps the Bakulu.” Verne had done his research and knew their race times were based on using their internal jets. Verne could travel at least as fast as a Bakulu, and he was pretty sure he was faster. Their assessment also did not include stupid things like pushups and sit-ups.

  “That’s great,” Graves said, “but our assessments are to show your aptitude for operating a CASPer—a combat assault system, personal—in combat, or to function in a unit supporting a CASPer company.”

  “I know what a CASPer is,” Verne said. He realized, based on the Human’s stance, that Graves had made up his mind and no amount of logic was going to change it.

  “Fine,” Verne said, turning his motorized tank away from the Human. He knew it was a sign of disrespect to turn your back on someone you were talking to, but the sergeant’s treatment was not fair—Verne deserved at least a chance to compete. “I will then go to Plan B, as you bipedals say, because I will become a merc.”

  Verne smiled to himself at the look that came over the former military man’s face. Graves now looked scared. As he should.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Two

  It took two hours to drive his tank to Ye Old Blacksmith Forge in Styx Town. It was approaching the time the Humans normally ate their third meal of the day, so there was only one person in the shop when he arrived—the person in charge of “babysitting” the forge. The concept of having someone sit at the shop just in case a customer came by still seemed inefficient to Verne, but it was the same kind of inefficiency the Humans seemed to use in many of their processes. Rather than allow neophytes to experiment on their own—with potentially unfavorable results—the risk-averse Humans kept an experienced watcher at the shop any time it was open.

  The facility was much more up to date than the “blacksmith forge” name implied. It incorporated the latest and greatest…in 15 to 20-year old technology. While it didn’t have all the Galactic Union’s latest equipment, it did have a limited capability for nanite fabrication as well as MIG and TIG welding, and it was much better than banging a hammer on a heated piece of steel, which he had seen pictures of Humans doing in their not-too-distant past.

  “Greetings, Mr. Overstreet,” Verne said as he drove his tank into the shop.

  “Hi, Verne,” the man behind the counter said. “Sorry, there isn’t much to watch here today.” Ever since Verne had discovered machinery, he had spent the majority of his free time at the shop. He could not get enough information to satisfy his quest for knowledge on the development and production of machinery. To this point, though, his knowledge was purely theoretical; the babysitters wouldn’t let him use the majority of the equipment in the shop.

  “That’s okay,” the Wrogul said. “I’m done watching others make things. I’m ready to start working on projects of my own.”

  “Umm…we’ve talked about this, Verne,” Overstreet said. “Someone in a giant tank of water shouldn’t be doing things using high-voltage electricity. It’s just…it’s not good.”

  “I understand that,” Verne replied, “but it must be done.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because they turned down my application to take my VOWs.”

  “Oh, I see.” The man nodded, and Verne could see him emanate sadness. Although it was nice to have someone on his side, it didn’t help him in his quest to reach the stars. Overstreet pursed his lips. “I have to admit, though, they may have a point. CASPers really aren’t made for your race.”

  “They haven’t been made that way until now, but that is only because no one has ever chosen to adapt them for us. I intend to do so. And then I will go to space and join the Winged Hussars. Or maybe Asbaran Solutions. I like getting paid.”

  “Last I heard, Asbaran Solutions wasn’t hiring other races.”

  “I am not an ‘other race,’” Verne replied. “I grew up on Azure Colony. Although not Human by birth, perhaps, I am an ‘octapedal Human’ by naturalization and citizenship. I have attended Human schools. I have done everything just like a bipedal Human child, yet they will not allow me to take the VOWs. Therefore, I will design my own CASPer and spacesuit, and I will go to the stars and get hired as a merc on my own.”

  “Well, that’s a pretty optimistic outlook on life,” Overstreet said. “Still…how do you intend to do all of that without shocking yourself into oblivion?”

  “Obviously, the first thing I need to do is to invent something that prevents the conduction of electricity through my tank or through my body. I can leave the tank for periods of time to do my work, however, I will still be wet and will need personal protective gear. That isn’t any different than what you Humans do, though.” He visualized the last person he’d watched welding two pieces of metal. “You wear visors and rubber gloves…that’s it! I just need to do the same as you.”

  “You do, huh?” Overstreet asked. “And how do you intend to pull that off? Don’t you need to stay wet?”

  “Yes, I do,” Verne said. “But I can do that inside a rubberized suit that will allow me to safely handle heat and electricity. I can do the other things, like nanite fabrication, without it. Yes.” He rubbed his two specialized tentacles together in anticipation. “I think this will work very well.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Three

  Nemo entered the Ye Old Blacksmith Forge and looked around. As he’d been told, a Wrogul-shaped figure in black operated something that made a light brighter than the star in the sky—and far too bright to look at. Two of the Wrogul’s arms held pieces of metal together, and a third held the star-bright machine.

  He approached the Wrogul, but stopped well short of the welding operation when the man behind the counter waved a hand at
him. Although the machinery and the welding the Wrogul was undertaking was not very interesting to him, he was aware the process involved high voltage electricity, which—as a water-dwelling individual—deserved respect and caution. Nemo waited patiently for the Wrogul to finish, which gave him time to study the other being.

  He was covered in what seemed to be some sort of rubber suit, which, based on its size, was fairly thick. Two lines led into it from another piece of machinery, but he couldn’t determine their purpose. The Wrogul in the suit turned slightly, and Nemo could see the suit incorporated a facemask to allow its wearer to see what he was working on. The suit was of some interest, as Nemo could see the benefits of having those capabilities, but the actual creation and development held no interest for him. Not like the life sciences, which were very interesting.

  “Is that you, Verne?” he asked over the comm circuit when the Wrogul took a break. The rubber suit blocked the individual’s photoreceptors, making it impossible to communicate normally.

  “Yes,” Verne replied, setting down the piece of equipment he was using and the metal pieces he was joining. He turned to face Nemo, careful not to crimp the lines going into the suit. “I’m kind of busy at the moment. What do you need?”

  Nemo waved an arm at the machinery. “I’d like to talk with you about all of this. I have a project I hope you’ll take on for me.”

  Verne sighed. “Can you—”

  “It is a project that involves developing and fabricating never-seen-before machinery,” Nemo added, interrupting him.

  “Oh, well in that case, give me a second, and I will be right with you.” Verne turned to the machinery running into his suit and flipped some switches. The suit shrank in size until it was form fitting. After a moment, Verne operated a seam and slid out.

  “Yes? What is the nature of the project?” Verne asked.

  Typical Verne, Nemo thought. Unlike the rest of the Wrogul, who were generally focused on life and the life sciences, for some reason Verne liked machines. Weird.

  “I am going off-world soon,” Nemo said, “and I heard about the suit you invented.” He flicked an arm to where the suit lay on the floor behind Verne. “I also know you have a proclivity toward building things…” Nemo paused as Verne started playing with the operating mechanism of his chair. “What? Is something wrong?” Nemo asked when Verne didn’t notice he’d stopped talking.

  Verne didn’t reply. Instead, he appeared fascinated with what he was tinkering with.

  “Verne!”

  “Oh, yes?” Verne stepped back from his chair. “Sorry, I saw the mechanism needed adjusting. Do you have a problem when it shifts gears?”

  “Well, yes, it hesitates before going into the next gear. Why?”

  “The linkage was a little off. I have adjusted it, so it should work better now.” He paused a moment, looked at the chair, and then added, “There are several inefficiencies in your chair. I could build you a new one that works better and is more comfortable if you would like.”

  “Well, that would be nice,” Nemo said, “but that isn’t why I came to talk to you.”

  “It wasn’t?” Verne asked. “Oh. I just saw how badly assembled that chair was and thought you needed a new one. I just redesigned my own, you know. Now it can go almost as fast as any of the Humans’ vehicles. Going forward, I think I can put some ducted fans on it and really increase its operating speed significantly.”

  “Verne—”

  “Of course, that will make it difficult to bring indoors, as it will increase its size significantly. Perhaps, if I make a detachable chair that goes inside a hover frame…”

  “Verne!”

  “Yes?”

  “Focus, please. I am going off-world soon, and I need a spacesuit in order to function on the ship.”

  “Oh! That poses some interesting problems,” Verne said. He turned toward where his suit lay on the floor. “That one won’t work, of course, you’ll need something self-contained. Plus, in space, there will be a lack of gravity, so it will need an integral locomotive force…”

  His eyes lost focus as he pictured the system he was building in his mind.

  “Can it be done?” Nemo asked after a few moments of waiting, when Verne didn’t come back to reality.

  “Why, yes, of course. It poses some unique challenges, but I can absolutely build it. If I can build a CASPer, I can absolutely build a spacesuit. In fact, there are a number of similar issues between them, and I can use some of the design features of the CASPer to overcome the issues in the spacesuit. It’s all technology I’ve already developed, so nothing could be simpler. When do you need it?”

  “Three weeks…Wait, you built a CASPer?”

  “Well, yes, of course. Look, I’m no good at fiilaash, but I’m good at this. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to go off-world to join the Winged Hussars and fulfill my life’s work as a Human mercenary.”

  “The Winged Hussars? What is that?”

  “It is one of the Humans’ Four Horsemen mercenary organizations. Surely you have at least heard of them?” When Nemo indicated assent, Verne continued, “I’ve had some issues with the Humans. They don’t consider me to be Human and will not allow me into any of their mercenary units. Cartwright’s Cavaliers sent me a nice note when I applied but turned me down. The Asbaran Solutions note was less pleasurable to read. I haven’t heard anything back from the Golden Horde yet.

  “The Winged Hussars, though, they take ‘alien races’—although I still submit I’m as Human as any of the people here—and they said they are interested in meeting me. I have to go to Karma to talk with one of their representatives and fill out the forms.”

  “So you built a CASPer to go meet with them?”

  “Of course, I did. It works superbly, too. Well, I’m sure it will, once I get the operating system finished. I’m still learning programming. Once I have that mastered, I’m sure I’ll be able to have it working in no time.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Four

  Verne lifted the arm of the VASPer—Verne’s Assault System, Personal—then lowered it again and released a burst of lights in satisfaction. He’d removed the metal-on-metal rubbing of the joint, and now it moved smoothly and freely.

  “I take it the light display means it’s working now?” Overstreet asked from behind the counter.

  “Yes,” Verne replied from the far corner of the shop that everyone had come to accept as “his.” Originally just a small piece of real estate in the corner of the building, it had grown to encompass over a quarter of the shop’s floor space. Verne didn’t see an issue with it as he was in the shop all the time, while the others—even Overstreet—were only part-timers. Besides, he shared his tools with them, even the ones he’d special-ordered from off-world.

  Though the colonists didn’t have a lot of credits, Verne had earned some of them by improving their machinery and fixing it when it was broken on a number of occasions. He would have done it for free—and he had tried not to accept payment for his efforts—but the colonists had forced him to take some credits. He began accepting them more freely once he found out how expensive some of the equipment he needed was, especially to have it shipped to Azure Colony. Todd had also shared a bit of his stash with Verne in an effort to upgrade the colony’s engineering capabilities, though he wouldn’t say where the credits had come from.

  The VASPer was as close to a Human CASPer as Verne could get without access to a set of Binnig’s blueprints. From the exterior, it was an exact match with all the Tri-V images Verne had of the war machines. The interior wasn’t perfect—he knew that—but it closely matched what the former-mercs who had retired on Azure had described, modified as necessary to accommodate his physiology. Those modifications were not noticeable from the outside, though. As far as any merc commander who might see it would be able to tell, he would just be one more trooper inside a suit. Well, once he got the interface to the various CASPer networks figured out.

  Not having an
actual CASPer he could take apart—and more importantly, the software to make it run—was extremely frustrating, like a patch of dry skin he could not sufficiently re-moisten. His VASPer worked well, but until he got a look at the software from an operational CASPer, he would not be able to ensure his VASPer would integrate into the commander’s battle network.

  He also needed weapons to mount on the suit, but they would arrive soon. Another bit of Todd’s legacy well spent. He flashed satisfaction again. He could not wait for the parts to arrive; then he would be a real CASPer trooper, suitable for joining the cadre of any merc organization.

  “I think I am going to take the suit for a drive to check out its operational functionality,” Verne said. “Don’t wait up.”

  “Okay,” Overstreet said with a chuckle. “Just lock up when you go, okay?”

  “Sure thing,” Verne replied absently, his mind already on piloting the suit.

  The Humans decided to give in to reality. Since Verne used the shop for many more hours than they could babysit, and, when it came down to it, Verne knew more about the operation and maintenance of the shop’s equipment than they did, the Humans had given Verne babysitter status—they called it a shop supervisor qualification—and now he could come and go as he pleased. That was very satisfying, especially since he didn’t have to do any of the actual babysitting—it meant he could just use the shop when he wanted.