~It is interesting to note that the Marines here are as efficient in their operations as Imperial Marines at Ley Sector Depot. The professionalism gives some cause to expect this interaction to go well.
It is somewhat less than optimal that they do not recognize the war hull composition. Bonded Superdense will shrug off their current weaponry without noticeable effect. This indicates a level of materials construction less advanced than those techniques used in Kellhound's fabrication.
Imperial technology seems both more and less advanced than the local tech level. The Jump Gates are clearly far in advance of anything in memory, but data acquired on the Neural Net indicates that Jump Drives are much more primitive than the norm for the Imperium.~
While this analysis was in progress, the Marines finished their preparations. The Lieutenant Colonel stepped forward, being careful to stay out of lines of sight.
With a bit of concealed uncertainty, he raised his voice, saying, "Kellhound, this is Colonel William Killian. The bay is secured, time to open up!"
The mellow baritone, coming from the bay speakers, replied, "Certainly, Colonel. Is it to be presumed that the scientists won't be arriving until you are convinced of security?"
Eyes narrowed, Killian responded, "Yes, that is correct. Speaking of which, hacking the base would be considered a hostile act."
"Kellhound has not accessed the base, Colonel. This is a circuit over-ride using targeted radio transmissions."
The regimental comm tech looked up from his pad, coughed quietly, and said, "Confirmed, sir."
"Well, let's get on with this, then. You'll need to open up. We'll start with a customs inspection, and move on from there."
Killian turned and waved, summoning one of his Lieutenants. "George, seal up and have a look inside. Don't be an ass about it, but don't go taking any chances, either. Just because they, whoever they are, have been polite so far doesn't mean we let our guard down."
Lieutenant Chadwick nodded. "Got it, boss."
A hatch opened on Kellhound's side and a stair way descended to the deck. Another hatch, obviously a cargo ramp also descended.
With some quick hand motions, the platoon of Marines, all now sealed into their combat armor, divided up and headed for the entryways. Chadwick was third aboard into the crew access.
Lieutenant Colonel Killian stood in the flag bridge. It was a smallish place, and a bit crowded with four scientists and himself. Nothing untoward had been found so far, although the team was expressing a lot of frustration with things being "different".
Just then, a small robot, more or less shaped like a spider, sidled up to one of the scientists. It was carrying a wafer of metal about 2cm square.
"Bonded Superdense alloy, Doctor, as per your request. It is suggested that you let the remote carry it, however. It weighs approximately 50 kilos."
"What??! Oh, my thanks for the warning."
"Admiral Hall, this is Lieutenant Colonel William Killian, reporting. Security detail and associated scientific survey have determined no threat beyond the obvious fact that this is a functioning cruiser.
I must emphasize that there is NO crew present, yet ship vessel was under observation from the moment it requested docking authorization, both by external sensors and, internally, by my regiment.
Kellhound has provided us with technical samples which have been removed from the bay in extreme hazard containment.
If you are ready, sir, my people are here."
We all have an Angelic and a Demonic side. Use of them determines good or evil in the end.
Admiral George Richard Hall was in his quarters on H.M.S. Norfolk. The chamber was spacious, but it was feebly lit. He was resting on one of his rococo styled cozy armchairs. Or he was at least supposed to be.
There was a small, wooden table in front of him. His look was narrowly focused on an ornate, porcelain teapot, which was placed on the center of the table.
It was empty.
George hadn't had any tea yet that day. He was waiting for Bristol to confirm him that it was safe to come, or that wasn't. In the first case, he would have some of the tea prepared for the welcome. In the second, he would fill his teapot -- and in both, his crave. His shaking legs were showing his anxiety.
But that wasn't it. Most of George's conscious mind was, actually, occupied with devising a plan of how to profit from this opportune event. The gain had to be significant -- things like this don't happen often after all -- and he had to leave no evidence. Another important obligation was success of the operation, but that wasn't worrying him as much. He'd think of a way to avoid being blamed. Just if he could see the Kellhound from close, he'd have the information he needs.
George's left eye started to twitch. He changed his position, as his clothing for special occasions, although looking good, wasn't very comfortable.
Suddenly, his communication device rang. His hand grabbed it like if it had a tic.
Salvation.
In a few minutes, George was several astronomical units further. He had just moored the Thunderer, the battleship under his command, with Bristol Mining Facility. All seemed to be in order. With an escort of three royal marines, he went towards the Kellhound's dock. Then he turned towards the solemn chamber. It was empty and ready to be crowded with the guests he had expected before he found out that the Kellhound had no crew. He threw a lusting look at the smooth curves of a hot teapot and muttered "Hello".
"Sir?", asked one of the always ready and alert marines.
George turned to him once with a serious face. Then he turned again. "Oh, nothing".
He proceeded to the dock.
Then he faced an awkward circumstance. How would he speak to the artificial intelligence? Would he stand in front of the dock gate, staring blankly? Would he enter the thing and talk with it? Or would he sit in an empty room and talk to it by his communication device? Although the tea was tempting, it could wait for a few more minutes after waiting for hours. George chose the second method. That was the best way to acquire more information, but rather about how to profit than about the Kellhound.
A thought of him having a really short conversation with his secretary about this awkward circumstance in the near future crossed his mind when he was passing trough the gateway.
"Greetings, Kellhound. I am admiral George Richard Hall. It is a pleasure to speak with you in person."
"Greetings, Admiral. Please feel free to be seated. The central seat of the three is normally allocated to the senior flag officer. Should you prefer a different seat, say the one closest to the hatch, Kellhound will not take offense."
Said hatch remained open with a pair of Marines at each end of the passageway. After an almost unnoticeable hesitation, Admiral Hall sat in the central chair. It immediately conformed to his body, the gel and pressors wiggling almost obscenely, but finished almost before it was noticed.
As soon as he was seated, the voice politely inquired, "Would the Admiral care for refreshment? Kellhound has limited supplies but has Costa Rican coffee, Darjeeling, Earl Grey & Chai teas, and various alcoholic beverages available. There are also various food substances available."
We all have an Angelic and a Demonic side. Use of them determines good or evil in the end.
George wasn't supposed to consume anything originating from the Kellhound, but the lust was too strong. A bodyguard turned pale, fearing that the admiral would be harmed on his watch. The other one kept bluntly staring at an undetermined spot on the opposing wall. The third one was scanning the area trough two sharp slits between his eyelids, behind his black sunglasses.
None wanted to interrupt George. They knew it was better to be punished by the martial court than by him.
"How polite of you."
But which one would he take? "Darjeeling sometimes makes my mouth dry", he thought, "While Earl Grey can make me a bit dizzy in above-normal quantity". And an above-normal quantity was what he intended to drink now.
"Chai with carda-cardam-I mean cardamom, please."
Almost exposed.
"Thank you".
As he received the cup, which he looked at and tapped in curiosity for a few moments, he tried a bit of the tea. It seemed fine.
"So..."
Appeasing his crave, he focused on business. For some reason, it was necessary to make a completely unnecessary and meaningless sound "so" during that. Hopefully the artificial intelligence understood human flaws. It didn't have to control its heart beat, air consumption, blood pressure, digestion and the pleasant tinglings on its tongue and inside its nose, after all.
"I hope you haven't found our safety procedures offending. We like to be hospitable, but safety goes first. You never know what can come from the unknown."
He takes a sip and, although one of his mottoes is not to show feelings, the partial, shivery smile discloses them.
"Where did you say you come from? Can you locate the sector relatively to Sirius? Is it possible to return within a reasonable amount time?"
"Kellhound understands the need for security, Admiral. It is regretful that it needs to occur, but your handling of the situation has been most generous."
There was a slight pause, indicative of a mental shifting of gears.
"Kellhound has identified its location relative to Ley sector Depot and other beacon stars. Unfortunately, this has proven of little value. Your star system of Cambridge is located in what should be the galactic deep south, beyond the Hive Federation."
A map popped up on the display. Bretonia was highlighted, although the familiar network of jump routes was missing. After several seconds, the map expanded, displaying a significant amount of the galactic arm.
"Kellhound has not found reference to Hivers, or any of the other non-human polities known to the Third Imperium in your network. For that matter, there are no references to the human polities of which the Third Imperium is aware."
As Kellhound spoke, sections of space flashed, indicating what was being referred to.
"Kellhound will admit that its data is limited, its primary purpose being a battlerider, but there are no records available for your Nomads.
This is what leads to the theory that Kellhound is not in its home universe."
We all have an Angelic and a Demonic side. Use of them determines good or evil in the end.
Confused by all that information coming at once, George had to return to the fact he knew well -- there are people who could do his job better. But he had to hide that fact, so he used everything he was familiar with.
He took a sip of tea and pretended to be thinking for a moment.
"A battlerider, you say? We could have some mutual use.
You see, Bretonia was pulled into a defensive war by an utter surprise, three years ago. A House named Gallia suddenly unveiled itself, and the next thing they did was sending an enormous invasion fleet into our space.
We won't simply miss a chance to save our people. I will give you an offer:
Would you allow us to do more thorough research on the ship, if we upload you the known jump gate and jump hole network?"
Before the AI spoke again, George added:
"Of course, there is a possibility that it doesn't help. In that case, we could adopt your ship into our fleet, which means that you will be in our service in exchange for supplies and maintenance. Bretonia is a democratic state, so you will be allowed to leave us once you find a way to return home, being a foreign entity.
Does that seem acceptable?"
Although George didn't plan any tricks about that matter, not being able to directly profit from either decision, he did make a sly grin, but only because he is used to make it at the end of a proposal.
"Admiral, your public data has references to Carrier class ships carrying fighter class parasites. A battlerider is the same concept, except that the parasites are vessels such as Kellhound. The ISS Wales was the tender that Kellhound was assigned to."
After a pause, Kellhound continued.
"Given that Kellhound has no apparent other options, your proposal is acceptable with the caveat that Kellhoundis the ship, and will not tolerate destructive or invasive processes.
Please be advised, as a parasite cruiser, Kellhound does not possess jump technology, and does not have relevant data except in the tactical sense.
Should the government find this turn of events acceptable, Kellhound looks forward to service."
We all have an Angelic and a Demonic side. Use of them determines good or evil in the end.
"Excuse me. I am not used to refer to ships themselves. Most that I met didn't have such a level of consciousness.
Anyways, I am glad that you agreed to my proposal.
The place where you are going now is one of the best equipped and most important centers of xeno science in Sirius, and I am speaking modestly. Expect only professionalism there, and of course no destructive nor invasive processes. They are below our dignity.
In a few minutes, we will be heading to the Sunderland Research Complex in the Newcastle system."
All that research will have to be worth a lot of money, George thought. Certainly they won't notice mere few thousand credits missing. "If they can do it with ten million, they can do it with nine and nine hundred thousand", he thought. He needed that money more, and he was looking forward to acquiring it. Villas look so magnificent on Gran Canaria -- which also looks magnificent, even more with a villa, his villa.
"But before we go...
I'm a bit tired of formal speech. I would welcome a casual chatter right now. It wouldn't be polite to always treat you so formally, there must be things you like to talk about.
Also, I haven't drunk a lot of fluid today. I had a lot of work to do, and duty to Bretonia goes before everything else. Would you mind... if I had another cup of Chai? It is so good!"
No, that was not too many words. Tea is more worth than any words.
When the Kellhound moored with Sounderland Research Station, it was given an insight into all significant laws of Bretonia. Pretending to be tired of formalism, George then asked it what it liked to do. He was aware that the Kellhound was an AI, but asking couldn't bring any harm. He wanted to be kind to it. He knew that kindness is often paid back, and he wanted to have use of the Kellhound.
It turned out that it liked learning, and its current area of interest was human fiction. Although he knew some good, modern books, he wouldn't have the nerves to listen to unfavourable critiques, not the capacity to refute them. He wouldn't be paid for it. So, he entrusted one of his assistants with the matter.
It was obvious that the book had to have something to do with both humans and the Kellhound's situation. It also had to be slightly obsolete, so there would always be better books to offer if it wasn't found enthralling.
The assistant knew of a perfect one.
![[Image: 396AUfe.png]](https://i.imgur.com/396AUfe.png)