With resources flowing in and over fifty construction drones working away, Slater made good progress on the two ships. While he was still angry, he didn’t stop work on the Chixturax vessel. Giving himself some time, Slater decided he wouldn’t punish the vast majority of the Chixturax people because some of their leaders had treated him poorly. At least the Chixturax had sent over the star charts as promised. It took him some time, but Slater was able to pinpoint the system where the battle with the Gargonth took place. The jump points it used left little doubt; the Gargonth was heading toward Earth.
Slater threw himself into ship construction, even reprocessing some of the MOBS in his derelict to free up enough control to bring the total number of construction drones at the dockyard up to seventy. Despite a slight reduction in forces, Slater was still dominating every group of challengers that entered his derelict. His continued success meant resources were more than enough to keep the work underway nonstop.
His new weapon finished the second pass of research, and he now had a good idea of the exact dimensions, enabling him to finish up the Franklin’s hull design and make the last adjustments to the other compartments. It made the ship look a bit odd. A wedge-shaped section of the hull extended out below where the bow had been previously. Inside, protected by thick, armored doors, was a massive weapon that ran nearly the length of the ship. Where his previous railgun main battery had a shot diameter measured in inches, this new weapon was measured in meters. His new weapon, which he was calling the keel gun, fired a slug five meters in diameter and would launch with double the velocity of his other railguns.
Targeting would be difficult, as he had no hope of hitting anything that could maneuver rapidly. Slater was assuming the size of the Gargonth would mean it was somewhat sluggish. The first shot would be critical, a devastating strike before the enemy could react. Once he fired the first shot, even a sluggish vessel would be able to make minute course changes that would throw off his aim at maximum range. As the range closed, his hit chance would improve. The only downside was the long recharge time for each shot and the massive number of resources each round would take to create.
A separate reactor powered the keel gun, but it would take five minutes to recharge the electromagnetic capacitors between each shot. Five minutes was a long time in the middle of a battle, but the weapon was designed to be a one-shot kill for most ships, and even something as massive as the Gargonth should be heavily damaged. With a strong initial strike by the keel gun, his other batteries should be able to tear apart the enemy. Slater couldn’t help but think the ship looked a little odd with the protrusion, but it also kind of reminded him of ancient sailing vessels that fought with rams.
The ancient purpose for a ship’s ram gave Slater another new idea. He expanded the wedge on the front of the Franklin a bit, reinforcing the design and adding a modified breach to the gun itself. His ship now had an actual ram. The nanobot-infused wedge would easily crush through the hull of any other vessel, striking deep into the enemy. Once the hull was breached, the doors protecting the keel gun would open and the barrel could be used as a boarding tube for his MOBS. The modified breach would allow his troops easy access and could be sealed off to prevent counter-boarding if his MOBS should fail.
Given that most races liked to board their foes and take the ship as a prize, the boarding hatch areas were typically one of the most heavily defended places on a warship. The new ram would allow him to bypass the heaviest defenses and land his attackers where they could do the most damage. Of course, having a ship as large as the Franklin ramming into another vessel would most likely destroy it, but against the Gargonth, this tactic could be a game-changer. If the monster ship was a single living entity, it had to have some vulnerable body parts; there had to be a heart or brain his MOBS could destroy in there.
A slight modification to the dockyard was needed to accommodate the new overall length of the Franklin , but that didn’t stop work on the rest of the ship. It seemed that as every hour passed, the ship began to take on its final shape. His construction drones never stopped, never had to consult with a job foreman for instructions on what to do. They were perfect in their efficiency, and the swarm of them he had working on the ships could do the job of thousands of people.
By Slater’s estimate, if nothing changed, he would be ready to sail in only a few days. The design changes on the Franklin did mean it was going to launch a couple of days after the Chixturax, but that might be for the best; it would give him a little time to make modifications based on the information he received about the Chixturax fight with the Gargonth. The hatch opening startled him, the Chixturax kids walking in sheepishly. He hadn’t seen them since his heated meeting with the elders.
“Slater, may we enter?” Bexlan asked.
“Yes, you two are always welcome here. Your elders may be morons, but I like you and your family,” Slater said.
“I’m sorry for how they are treating you. They don’t know you as we do,” Kraxton said, walking slowly over to the gaming console, almost as if he was expecting Slater to kick him out before he could start playing.
“Kraxton, stop that. We need to help Slater before we entertain ourselves,” Bexlan ordered in true big sister fashion.
“You are correct, but there is only one research module and you’re better at research than I am,” Kraxton argued.
“No, when we left last time, it was my turn to play,” Bexlan argued.
“Fine, let me see if I can help with anything,” a defeated Kraxton said, pulling up the research station. Slater went back to work, fine-tuning some of the internal defenses for the Franklin . There were still some final tweaks to be made to the Chixturax vessel, but he was going to prioritize his ship first.
“What are you doing there, Kraxton?” Pixi asked, climbing up on the shoulder of the Chixturax. Kraxton looked a little startled when the rat climbed up but took the whole thing in stride.
“I’m looking at Slater’s main problem, his drones, and it confuses me a bit,” Kraxton said.
“That has been my biggest challenge. I’m thinking of just replacing the drone bay with other systems,” Slater said.
“I think the problem is that you cannot control your MOBS over that long of a distance,” Kraxton said. “While I can’t claim to understand how a derelict works, it also seems like you don’t rely entirely on your own powers to function. I see that you have normal reactors supplementing the ship’s power in other areas, like your shield generators.”
“Yes, that enables me to supplement my power and make my ship more effective. It allowed the human crew I once had aboard to contribute to our defense, taking away some of the burden and allowing me to focus on other things,” Slater replied.
“If that’s the case, then why do you need MOBS to become your space assault drones? Other races use drones. Why not copy the way they function and remove the burden on your derelict systems?”
Slater was quiet for a time; the idea was a good one. This was exactly the reason he had the kids here in the first place, the reason he needed a crew. Slater had unbelievable processing power and could solve almost any problem with research. What he often lacked was vision. He had only his own mind to guide him, and just by looking at the problem from another angle, Kraxton might have salvaged the whole space assault drone problem.
“That is exactly what I was looking for, Kraxton. Great work. Here, use this while I get back to work,” Slater said, having a construction drone print up a second gaming console for the Chixturax to use.
“Thank you, Slater. I was concerned that Bexlan would surpass my score in several of your archaic games. Now she has no chance to defeat me,” Kraxton said confidently.
“I shall accept your challenge, brother,” Bexlan replied, turning her focus back to the game. Slater left them to it; he had a drone force to design.
He dug back into his drone research, looking at what had been previously unlocked: a crude design that was cobbled together from the alien ones he had downloaded earlier. His focus had been on them using his core power and being controlled as MOBS. Now there was a lot more to think about. He had no information on human drones, and he sent Pixi on another search through the station net to see if there was any other drone information out there.
Pulling the existing research focused on creating MOBS, Slater re-queued it to improve the power supply for the new autonomous version. They had a limited range and would need to return to the Franklin to recharge their power supplies; further research would extend their flight time. Drones also carried a weak shield system, and after weighing the pros and cons, Slater decided it would be more efficient to just leave them out. At their current state, the shields were useless for anything other than debris deflection. If they couldn’t stop a point-defense weapon, the mass they took would be better spent on armor and heavier weapons. Deleting the shield projector on his drones would also extend their range since it wouldn’t constantly be draining the power supply.
Between the weapons systems, inefficient drives, and the AI controls, Slater had a lot of work to do. Despite the challenges, it was only a matter of time before he had a powerful drone fleet. They might not be MOBS, but by the time he was done, they would be the best in the galaxy. A further refinement would also improve the overall dimensions of the craft, allowing him to fit more inside the drone bay he had already designed in his ship. A quick estimate put the total loadout at around one hundred drones. That number might fluctuate either way, but from what he understood, his battleship would have a larger drone arm than a fleet carrier.
The hatch-open indicator drew Slater away from his drone design session as Administrator and a full squad of ogre goons entered his core room. Previously, Administrator only brought two with him, so bringing the total to ten was a bit extreme. They were more heavily armed than usual, four of their number sporting anti-armor rockets in their hands. They weren’t pointed directly at his core, but it would take only a second to bring them into play.
“So what brings you to this neighborhood, and what gives with the muscle?” Slater asked. He had been expecting this visit for some time and had a good idea what Administrator wanted.
“Oh, I’m here, as always, to make you an offer. As for my security, we’re training some new employees,” Administrator replied.
“And just what is your offer?”
“Why, I would like to offer you an extended contract to perform in the arena. I find you intriguing and don’t want to see you go just yet. Your little construction drones have been very busy, and I see you’re finally making progress on that little ship of yours.”
“I’m sorry, but I have no interest in staying in your arena. As soon as my ship is complete, I plan on leaving. Until then, I’ll continue to play your game,” Slater said.
“Thus, we come to the crux of my dilemma. I wish for you to stay and you wish to go. Now would be a good time to tell me what you might want to demand in order to stay at the station. You know I have access to unbelievable amounts of information, enough to keep that brilliant little core of yours entertained for millennia.”
“That is a tempting offer, but I have other obligations I must perform. I might be willing to come back someday and maybe do a special event or something, but I have to go as soon as I can.” Slater got the distinct feeling that Administrator wasn’t going to let him go, no matter what he said. The creature was too used to getting his way and wouldn’t be swayed by Slater’s other obligations.
“I admit that a special event sounds delightful, but I’m afraid I can’t let you just gallivant off into space. After all, if you’re heading to where I think you’re heading, I doubt you’ll be alive to return even if you wanted to. You amuse me, and I mean to keep you here until such a time as you are no longer entertaining,” Administrator said ominously.
Slater sent a mental prompt to his MOBS, gathering a force of cyborks and gnomechs in the bridge area, ready to burst into the core room if they were needed. “I’m leaving as soon as my ship is done. That is my final decision. No offer or threat is going to change my mind.”
“Then, in that case, I’m afraid you’ll force me to pursue our legal options,” Administrator said. Slater could tell that the creature was losing his patience; he was frustrated that Slater wasn’t doing what he wanted, and the veneer of a smooth businessman was starting to crack.
“What legal options? We had a deal, and up until you came in here demanding I stay longer, we were both keeping up our ends of the bargain.”
“True, you have been excellent in keeping your agreement with me, but there are other parties with an interest in your core. The Chixturax named Hixrax legally purchased you and his people are the sole owners of your core. While I have worked with you in good faith, they are your true owners and have the power to decide your fate. I believe I can sway the Chixturax elders to sell you directly to me. That would solve all of our problems,” Administrator said, his projected voice rising as he began to lose control.
“Nobody owns me. I’m free and intend to stay that way. I think you should leave, now,” Slater said, getting the feeling this particular meeting wasn’t going to end well.
“Our father would not sell Slater. He is a friend and ally to the Chixturax people,” Kraxton blurted out. Slater had forgotten they were in the room, but they had been watching the entire time.
“Shut up, little insects. Your betters are talking!” Administrator bellowed. A blast of mental energy surged out from him, staggering the ogres and tossing the two Chixturax kids into the bulkhead. Slater heard the crunch of exoskeleton cracking, and while they were both showing as still alive, they had substantial injuries. Slater retracted his core into the armored compartment he had created for it, all part of his avatar project. Pixi positioned himself next to the line of ogres, ready to trigger his grenade.
The hatchway to the bridge snapped open, and a stream of cyborks entered, axes and shoulder-mounted weapons at the ready. A pair of gnomechs also stomped in, heavy machine guns trained on Administrator.
“Your presence is required. Defend me,” Administrator ordered into his commlink. Coming back to their senses, the ogres moved protectively in front of Administrator, weapons at the ready. The outer hatch opened, and a team of heavily armed dwarven security forces moved in to aid Administrator.
“Stay your MOBS, Slater. There is no need for violence here,” Administrator said. His angry outburst over, the creature returned to his smooth, businesslike demeanor.
“Get out. I’m leaving, now, and if you value your little station staying in one piece, I suggest you stay out of my way,” Slater growled.
“There will be dire consequences if you try to leave, Slater. This is my station, and you will not make demands here.” Administrator drifted his way out of the room. The goons followed their master, leaving Slater alone with his MOBS and a pair of injured Chixturax kids.