36 CHIEF SCIENTIST HOWARD PALAWU

In Earth’s largest factory the compy production line hissed and burbled with molten alloys and sprayed solvents. The smell of hot metal and caustic chemicals filled the air. The din of large-scale fabrication, with the whirring machinery and the clang of shaped components, was deafening.

Howard Palawu, the Hansa’s Chief Scientist, took comfort from the sights and sounds of an efficient plant operating at full capacity. Smiling, he called up quota numbers on a handheld electronic pad and studied delivery records, projections, and profits. He turned to the tall Swede next to him. “We’ll be ten percent higher than last month, Lars. Fewer errors, faster throughput. More Soldier compies for the EDF.”

Lars Rurik Swendsen, the lead Engineering Specialist, stood beside the shorter man, showing a lot of teeth in his broad grin. “The factory’s running like a well-oiled machine, Howard.”

“It is a well-oiled machine.”

“I can’t wait until the new fabrication wing comes online in two weeks. How are you going to spend your bonus?”

Palawu shrugged; he had never much cared about his salary or his rewards. “I still haven’t figured out what to do with the last one.”

The dark-skinned scientist had broad shoulders and a stomach that wasn’t quite as flat as he thought it was. He kept his graying hair cropped extremely close to his scalp. Palawu had two grown children and had lost his wife a decade earlier in a medical accident during what should have been a minor procedure. Since then, the Chief Scientist had devoted himself to his work for Hansa and King. It kept him busy.

“The more we milk that Klikiss robotic technology, the more tweaks we can make to the production line,” he said. Two years earlier, he and Swendsen had been chosen to supervise the complex dissection and dismantling operations of the Klikiss robot Jorax. The breakthroughs they had made by copying the alien systems had been a giant boon to Hansa technology. Motivational modules and programming routines were scanned, duplicated, and transferred wholesale into resilient Soldier-model compies, which had already been put to good use in the Earth Defense Forces.

The two men walked down the line, watching the identical Soldier compies being assembled step-by-step, each one exactly according to specifications. The new-model compies were perfect warriors, sophisticated battle machines sure to be the key to defeating the hydrogues.

“I got a report from the shipyards this morning, Howard,” Swendsen said. “They’re already in production with sixty heavily armored rammer ships, according to the Chairman’s new plan. They seem to be a week ahead of schedule.”

“That’s just on paper. The rammers won’t be ready for months. We’ve got plenty of time to manufacture a compy crew for them . . . even though I hate to see such beautiful machines destroyed in a suicide mission.” Palawu watched as another armor-plated Soldier glided by on the assembly belt. “But they were designed to be expendable, I suppose.”

A well-dressed man with blond hair came up to the two senior production leaders. Wearing a business suit and a bland expression, the man looked out of place on the noisy, dirty fabrication line. He didn’t even seem interested in the new compies coming off the assembly belts. “Chief Scientist Palawu? Engineering Specialist Swendsen? Come with me, please.”

Palawu recognized the self-proclaimed “special assistant” to Chairman Wenceslas who had tried to stop King Peter from ordering a shutdown of the factory because of his concerns about the Klikiss technology. That had been a nerve-racking time, but everything was back on schedule now.

“Where are we going?” Swendsen asked.

“Chairman Wenceslas wishes to see you in his office.”

Palawu stood next to his tall colleague, wondering which of them was more nervous. Previously, whenever they’d been spoken to by the Chairman, it had been part of a large board meeting; now they waited alone in the empty room.

A quiet Friendly-model compy strutted like a wind-up toy, carrying a tray with a pot of strong-smelling cardamom coffee. Palawu preferred tea, but apparently they wouldn’t be given a choice. He and Swendsen each took one of the proffered cups while the compy set the third on the Chairman’s immaculately clean desk. Palawu took a polite sip, looked at his friend. They both waited.

Wenceslas came in several minutes later accompanied by his blond-haired expediter. The Chairman straightened his suit and looked at the two scientists. “I apologize for the delay, gentlemen. I genuinely hate it when meetings don’t end on schedule.” He took a seat at his desk. “I understand how valuable your time is. I just wish some of my fellow administrators would recognize the value of mine.” He sipped his coffee, found it cold, and pushed it aside. “I see from production reports that our compy manufacturing facilities are operating at peak efficiency. Soldier compies have already been distributed among all of the main battle groups. You two have done an exemplary job.”

Swendsen beamed, while Palawu lowered his eyes, embarrassed. “We work well together, Mr. Chairman.”

“And now you must demonstrate how well you can work apart.” Wenceslas gestured for both of them to take their seats. Neither asked for more information, choosing to wait until the Chairman spoke again. “Without question, you two are our foremost experts on Klikiss technology.”

Palawu fumbled with his fingers. “Mr. Chairman, I believe you’re overstating the—”

Wenceslas cut him off. “Dispense with the silly false modesty, please. You demean my intelligence, and you diminish your own accomplishments. If there were two better candidates, I would be speaking to them instead of to you.” He shuffled the neatly stacked papers on his desk, then straightened them again. “I need you to turn your talents to studying the Klikiss transportals.”

“Has something gone wrong in the colonization initiative, Mr. Chairman?” Palawu asked. He had thought the first wave was proceeding with full support. He had heard of no delays.

“Oh, the system functions just fine, sending settlers off to empty Klikiss planets. But our science doesn’t understand how it works—and that limits our options.” The Chairman folded his hands together. “You see, gentlemen, it is my dream that we learn how to move the existing transportals, or even create new ones, so that the Hansa can set up efficient gateways wherever we choose. Just think—if we could establish Klikiss transportals from scratch on any colony world, perhaps even increase their dimensions and transportation capacity, then we wouldn’t need to rely on conventional space travel at all. The ekti shortage would be utterly irrelevant. We could also send messages from planet to planet directly, without being forced to use unreliable green priests.”

“Now, that’s quite an ambitious plan, Mr. Chairman,” Swendsen said.

“But a feasible one,” Palawu added, already wrestling with the problem. “It shouldn’t be intrinsically more complex than the Klikiss robots. Even if we don’t understand every circuit in the transportal technology, perhaps we can imprint and replicate them, as we did with the Soldier compies.”

Basil seemed satisfied with their exuberance. Palawu looked at his tall friend. “And which one of us would you like for this assignment?”

The Chairman gestured to the expediter, who reached into his pocket and pulled out a single gold coin. “Your qualifications appear to be equivalent, gentlemen. Therefore, without further agonizing discussion, we will settle the matter by an ancient reliable method.”

The expediter spun the coin in the air and slapped it against the back of his hand.

Swendsen had called out, “Tails!” before the coin had fallen, and the expediter lifted his palm to reveal the idealized profile of King Ben, the Hansa’s first ruler.

The Chairman shook Palawu’s hand. “Congratulations, Dr. Palawu. I will see that you’re dispatched to our main hub at Rheindic Co as soon as possible.”