Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-Seven: Problems at Work

Farnborough was larger than I remembered it. 

In my month of absence, the factory had undergone another expansion. More warehouses, more staff, more and more rolls of fullersteel and nanofibre weave coming off the production lines and being set apart for fabrication. 

During the past month, the firm had been stockpiling as much fullersteel as they could, ready to be shipped for new applications. Although with me gone in Mumbai, there was a steadily growing backlog of orders.

Did that mean BAE-Dragonfly was in trouble? Not at all. Anticipating the reality of my being preoccupied for the better part of a year - and thus, not available for the assembly step of putting the suits together - Gideon had instructed the teams to focus on building an inventory of raw materials, and negotiated extended delivery times for all our orders of armoured suits. The earliest we were obligated to deliver was eighteen months from now, with some orders having a three-year lead time.

I don’t know how he managed it without Persuasion Points. 

Still, it helped to have a business-minded CEO available to run the business so that I could focus on the technology side of things. A lesson for everyone who runs a firm, I’d say - you can either be the innovator, or the business guy, but not both. 

Walking into the office, I knocked on Gideon’s door. “Got a minute?”

“Belessar! It’s good to have you back. The Mumbai problem solved?”

“Not quite.” I gave Gideon a rundown of the requirements for Aerovascar synthesis - and my promises. “Can it be done?”

“I’d ask you the same question,” Gideon replied. “Octanitrocubane synthesis relies heavily on your powers to make it affordable. What raw materials do you need?”

“Potassium nitrate, hydrochloric acid, methanol, and a thousand MP per kilo of octanitrocubane. The waste products are salt and water.”

“I’ll get you the raw materials. For that amount, you’ll need two hundred and twenty-five million MP, though, which is … your full capacity for about five days.”

“Then let’s get the raw materials fast. A lot of lives riding on this one.”

“I’m aware. You have a shipping plan to send this stuff to the Indians?”

“Travellers. It’s too dangerous to ship by either sea or air.”

“You got that right, and it’s too dangerous for individual Travellers to carry more than a small batch. We’ll need security as well… I’ll need to make some calls. Meanwhile, would you mind dropping by your office?”

“Sure. Anything urgent?”

“Let’s just say that with you gone for so long, there’s a ton of paperwork.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My office in Farnborough was almost unchanged, despite the months I’d spent in Mumbai. It made a nice place to sit and relax while I thought through the logistics of shipping that many tons of octanitrocubane.

My peace of mind lasted for about three minutes before my tablet pinged. 

The face of Armand DeWitt, the Head of Production and one of Gideon’s many, many minions, filled the screen. “Belessar, heard you’re back.” 

“I’m only here for a few days, Armand. What’s up?”

“Actually, we have a few problems which could use your help.”

“What problems?”

“The temperature ranges for furnace #1 have been fluctuating just outside the control ranges. We can’t put a finger on it, but the team’s worried about output quality. Can you please take a look?”

“... Send me the temperature readings, I’ll look into it.”

“Also, fusion reactor #3 is acting up, and the team’s worried about power stability and quality.”

“Define acting up?”

“The power frequency sometimes shoots up from 50 Hertz to 120 Hertz.”

“Have you checked the inverter circuits?”

“First thing we did, they’re stable. We think something in the reactor is generating a random magnetic field which is screwing up the conversion cycle.”

I mentally visualized the reactor layout - there wasn’t anything offhand that could generate extraneous magnetic fields, but the problem seemed real. “All right, send over the power readings, reactor output data, and the reactor maintenance records. I’ll look at that too.”

“Also, another small problem…”

“Armand, sorry to interrupt. How many of these ‘small problems’ are there?”

“.... about thirty-five.”

“Problems which you, the highly trained engineering team, and those technical consultants Gideon pays an arm and a leg for can’t solve by yourselves.”

“... Still thirty-five.”

“Fine, send over the list and the data. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Sure, Belessar.”

As soon as I hung up, the tablet pinged again. “Good morning Belessar, it’s Elizabeth Giles. Glad to have you back.”

“Only for a few days, then I’m needed in Mumbai again.”

“While you’re here, there were a few minor things we would appreciate your support on.”

“.... How exactly can I help Commercial?”

“We’re filling in techno-commercial proposals for supplying nanofibre weave for a variety of applications. The key talking points are strength and low weight, which makes it a natural fit for aircraft and drone applications. However, we keep getting pushback on quality control and reliability data, so we were wondering if you could help us with specific technical data to support our bids.”

“Have you talked to Dr. Palmer about this?”

“She said to ask you.” 

“How many bids are there?”

“About fifty-five, but we’ve broken them down into three templates. One for aviation, one for precision tooling and engineering industries, and one for clothing.”

“We’re supplying nanofibre weave to clothing industries? Not armour?”

“It’s mostly being used as an underlayer for uniforms. To make them partially stab-proof or bulletproof. That does require some calculations about how much nanofibre weave to use, which is another section we’d appreciate your help on.”

“You mean, how thick should the nanofibre weave in an item of clothing be to stop a bullet?”

“Exactly. We’re recommending 8 mm, but a lot of our customers balk at the per uniform cost and are pushing for half a milimetre.”

“That’ll just buy them very expensive bloodstains.”

“We understand that, but a proper calculation would help in this regard.”

“Why can’t Sarah do the calculation? She understands the tensile strength computations almost as well as I do.”

“Umm….” Giles blushed. “The, er, customers in question want a calculation attested to by you.”

“Why me, specifically?”

“Because you’re the inventor. They were originally asking for you to personally meet them and explain how the nanofibre weave works. We managed to negotiate them down to a written statement explaining why they should use 8 mm, signed by you…”

“Damn it…”

“... and a video recording of the explanation.”

I sighed. “I don’t suppose there’s a chance you could use the same recording for multiple customers?”

“It’s just the clothing companies that want the video recording. Also, they want to know if they can use your image for marketing purposes.”

“Seriously?”

“I believe they’ll make the clothing with whatever thickness we recommend, and then use your video to persuade the end buyers - military and police departments - that 8 mm is the right solution. Also, that you endorse their product.”

“They better be paying us a lot for all of this.”

“They are, actually. We’re charging a 600% markup on the British government rates for nanofibre weave.”

“People are willing to pay seven times the rate Windsor groans about?”

“Yes.”

“.... okay, fine, I’ll take a look at that too. Three items only, though, and send me the details.”

And it looked like my day was already full. 

Five hours later, I’d barely managed to sort out a quarter of the problems. At least the mystery of reactor #3 was solved - certain components hadn’t been replaced in time and had worn out, which became apparent once you checked the maintenance records - and as for furnace #1, the very first I’d set up, it was wearing out and needed replacement. It seemed that any synthesis furnace had an expected life of about a year or two before certain parts started to break down, resulting in the temperature fluctuations that Armand’s team had been seeing.

Frankly, it was a good thing they’d brought it to my attention, otherwise we’d have had molten goo all over the factory floor. I scheduled time the next day for crafting a replacement furnace - this time, without Mentacapacitors, thanks to my expanded MP capacity - and had started work on Elizabeth Giles’ calculations when the intercom buzzed. 

“Mr. Belessar? It’s Nancy from reception.”

“Good morning, Nancy. What’s up?”

“A Lieutenant-Colonel Edward Heath is here to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment, so I asked him to wait.”

Edward Heath was here to see me? That was unusual. After his father’s death at Second Tanisport, he should have been on compassionate leave. 

Still, he was a decent sort, and had helped me a lot during Sarvenimazarus’ interrogation. The commercial calculations could wait for a bit.

“Send him up.”

Heath stepped into my office. He looked almost the same as when we last met, except for the bags under his eyes. The man hadn’t been sleeping well.

“Good to see you, Edward,” I greeted him. “And congratulations on your promotion.”

“Belessar.” Heath stood stiffly. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Don’t mention it. How can I help you?”

“I wanted to talk to you about your speech. The one you made in Raptor, after Second Tanisport.”

A feeling of unease ran through me. Unlike most people, Edward Heath had more than a passing understanding of Raptor Speech.

Which meant…

“I had a bit of a reaction to it, unfortunately.” 

“What kind of reaction?”

“They tell me I had to be sedated. I don’t remember much, except - well - a lot of rage, and fear, and an overwhelming need to hit something.”

“... I see.” 

“Seems I was out of it for a bit. Gave Major Luca a black eye and punched Lieutenant Michaels in the stomach.”

I’d infused that speech with thousands of Persuasion Points, intended to hit Raptors in the metaphorical gut. Sadly, it seemed to have resulted in poor Lieutenant Michaels literally getting hit in the gut…

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Not as sorry as Luca was, I fear.” Heath shrugged. “He was a Royal Commando, you know.”

I chuckled. “And you gave him a shiner.”

“Yeah, getting beat by an intel weenie isn’t a great look. Michaels is less forgiving, seeing as she needed a hospital stay.” Heath’s tone turned sombre. “Nearly got court-martialed over it.”

I frowned. “You shouldn’t have had such a strong reaction.”

“The doctors agreed. The therapist put me on antipsychotics, until I could show I was stable.”

“But you got your promotion?”

“After a fair bit of messy business, but yes. Though it’s still a nasty mark on my career.” Heath looked me in the eye. “I was hoping you could help me clear it up.”

“I’m not sure what I can do for you.”

“Maybe explain exactly what was in the speech?”

I pondered for a moment. The man had understood the details of my speech to the Raptors - including, it appeared, the full effect of thousands of Persuasion Points, slanted with Call to Arms. 

Just to be on the safe side, I invoked Detect Enemy.

Nothing. A thousand CP gone, which would take me a full two minutes to regenerate, but there were certainly no enemies in the room. Only an Army officer worried about his career.

What the hell. Edward Heath was cleared for a hell of a lot of top secret information, it wasn’t like he’d be ratting this information out to anyone - and the Raptor civil war was already in full swing, anyway. 

No need for his career to become collateral damage.

“What I’m telling you is restricted,” I explained. “You can share it with senior officers and suitably cleared resources - but, compartmentalised, please.”

“Understood.”

“One of my abilities allows me to infuse my words with an extra dose of persuasiveness. If I’m making a statement, or an emotional argument, using this ability makes the words more - convincing. Increases their impact on the listener.”

“Mind control?”

“Not mind control, I have different powers for that. This is more like - social engineering. Persuasiveness.”

“How does it work, exactly?”

“It piggybacks off your understanding of language. Selects the words that are most likely to convince people of an argument, adds nuance, inflection and body language that aligns with the message, and optimizes the imagery - and tone - of what is communicated to be most effective.”

“Sorry, Belessar, but that sounds like mind control to me.”

“It’s not. Mind control is something like my power Brainwash - if a sentient is badly wounded and in pain, I can directly take control of them and force them to do my bidding. To a limited extent, of course.”

“You can do that?”

“Used it on a Raptor Guard inside the battleship. It helped me get close to the Xeranai.”

“Understood. So, mind control abilities, to you, mean you take direct control of someone’s mind. What you did in the speech was … more subtle?”

“Exactly. That speech was modified by a skill I have - Call to Arms - which means that the words, when heard, will motivate a speaker of the language to fight.”

“Fight what?”

“Fight for the cause that I’m trying to persuade them about. I believe that’s what happened to you.” I sighed. “It wasn’t intentional, and I’m sorry. Honestly never expected a human to understand Raptor speech well enough to be affected.”

Heath cocked his head. “You mean it doesn’t work if you don’t understand the language?”

“Correct. And the better you understand the language - the more effective it is.”

“Could you do something like that in English?”

I chuckled. “Checking out potential security threats, are we? Never mind, it’s a valid question. The answer is yes, I could - but I won’t.”

“You use it on Raptors.”

“It’s a weapon, Lieutenant-Colonel. I point it at the enemy.” And no way I’m admitting to persuading that social worker in Tanisport, good luck proving it. “Besides, if I was using it on human beings, do you think I’d have such a horrible PR image?”

“There is that. Would you be willing to explain this stuff to, say, an Army Board of Inquiry?”

“If needed, and if everyone in the room has Top Secret clearance and agrees to not disclose this information without my permission.”

“I’m not sure I can guarantee that.”

“Windsor probably can. I’ll give him a call if needed.”

Heath tilted his head. “I do have one other question, though. You said anyone who heard the speech and understood the language would be motivated to fight for the cause. What cause?”

“Does it matter?”

“Technically, you’ve got me persuaded to fight for something. I’d like to know what. Explicitly, instead of it being a ticking time bomb.”

It was a fair ask, unfortunately. “The speech was meant to remind the Raptors that I’d destroyed the Delta Star Blade.”

“Aelvelitar Daethras-Aethar.”

“Exactly that. And slain three Clanlords of the Guthnar in battle. That’s an insult to all Raptors, one that they can’t let stand - or their honour gets questioned.”

“So you provoked them into attacking us harder - no, into challenging you.” Heath frowned. “Wait - single combat for the throne?”

“Anyone who claims the title of Guthnar Clanlord has to first restore the honour of the Guthnar. They were given the Delta Star Blade in trust by Kensemazarus, their greatest inventor from the Age of Heroes - which corresponds to the time before the Hierarchy reached their world. It was his life’s work.” 

“Which means that the legitimacy of the Guthnar ruler - is tied to being holding the Delta Star Blade in trust. And wielding it against the enemies of the Raptors.” 

“Correct.”

“But you destroyed it. Does that….” Heath’s eyes widened. “The cause. You spoke of the ‘fruits of your victory’.... Belessar, did you stake a claim to the Raptor throne?”

“That was fast,” I chuckled. “Yes, technically I did. Only the Guthnar throne, though; the other Clans have their own Lords.”

“You told us the Guthnar have a position amongst the Raptors similar to the Americans in NATO.”

“True.”

“Belessar, you can’t possibly be serious about ruling the Raptors!”

“I’m not planning to,” I chuckled. “But technically, I have the right. The legal right, which is why I talked of…”

“.... deeds, not words.” Heath’s face was ashen. “They won’t agree. Most of the Raptors will be dead set against a foreign ruler….”

“And the ones who are will have to come and face me. Before they can claim the Guthnar lordship. They come at me, one by one, and die. Or, they accept that I have the lawful claim.” I grinned. “Raptor society is split between the two sides. Which means, right now, the Raptors are having their own little civil war.”

“They have a civil war?”

“Raptors are busy killing each other over whether the Guthnar throne is mine, or not. Whether they should follow tradition, or reject it entirely. Why do you think there were no Raptor troops at Lonavala?”

“Did you tell anyone about this?”

I shrugged. “How exactly do I explain it? It’s not like I can show proof from Raptor newscasts. Or that anyone can verify what’s happening on the Guthnar, Velaxa, or Mudvai homeworlds.”

“This is….” Heath swallowed. “... so beyond the pale that I can’t believe you did it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You manipulated a species into civil war. There’s going to be millions of civilians - innocent people - killed because of this.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ll all be Raptors, Heath. We’re fighting them, after all.”

“That doesn’t mean we make things worse, Belessar! Imagine they manage to unite behind a leader. What do you think happens? And after the war, will they be willing to make peace with us, or will they try to exterminate us for what you did?”

“That’s not for you to decide,” I growled. “I saw an opportunity to harm the enemy, so I took it.”

“On your own, without consulting anyone.”

“And who exactly is competent to take that call?” I replied. 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe General Windsor? The Prime Minister? Your own President?”

“It was my call, Lieutenant-Colonel.”

“It was not. You can’t take a decision like this without consulting people.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I am not making battle decisions by committee. You know that doesn’t work.”

“Every time you win, there’s an escalation.”

“Because we win. That’s why the Hierarchy escalates, Heath, because they haven’t even thrown a tenth of their total combat power at us. They will escalate as long as we survive, no matter what.” I stared him in the eye. “You were with me when we interrogated Sarvenimazarus. You know what’s at stake.”

“I know we have to have ethical boundaries, Belessar, or we’re no better than them.”

“I think this discussion is over.”

Heath stood up, anger in his pose. “I will be reporting this to Windsor. I suggest you have a better justification ready for him.”

“I don’t answer to Windsor,” I snapped.

“You answer to no one, is that it?”

“You’d have to be an ultra to understand, Heath.”

“And the collateral damage you did? I’m not the only one who understands Raptor, Belessar. Your speech probably drove millions of Raptors psychotic. Years from now, people are going to watch that video with a better understanding of Raptor speech, and find themselves attacking their family and friends.”

That thought brought me up short.

How had the speech affected Heath so badly? He wasn’t even a Raptor. Heck, if I could do that much damage to a Raptor or a Xeranai through a video recording….

Quietly, I cast Observe on Heath. As the man stood in front of me, trembling with suppressed anger, lines filled my interface.

EDWARD HEATH

LEVEL 22

CLASS: SAVANT

SKILLS:

OMNILINGUAL - CAN MASTER ANY NEW LANGUAGE IN HOURS.

UNIVERSAL TRANSLATOR - BASED ON LIMITED EXTRACTS OF WORDS AND SENTENCES, CAN CREATE A COMPREHENSIVE DICTIONARY OF THE LANGUAGE. CAN INFER THE EXISTENCE AND MEANING OF WORDS BASED ON OTHER WORDS IN THE SAME LANGUAGE. PROCESS IS SLOWER THAN LEARNING THE NEW LANGUAGE ORGANICALLY, BUT CAN PROCEED EVEN IN THE ABSENCE OF ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

COLD READING - CAN PICK UP SUBTLE, HIDDEN NUANCES OF BODY LANGUAGE AND ABSORB THE MEANING.

Well, that complicated things. 

“Edward, it looks like you will have time to understand.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Congratulations. You’re an ultrahuman.”

“I can’t be an ultrahuman,” snapped Heath. “I was tested when I joined the Army. Clean.”
“Tested how?”

“That’s restricted information.”

“Then I suggest you tell them to test you again. Focus on Savant skills.”

“I’m not an ultrahuman, Belessar, I’m a soldier.”

“If memory serves me right, you won’t be one for long. Ultras can’t serve in the military, after all.”

Heath scowled, taking a step forward.

“Careful there, newbie,” I said. “It looks like you might be planning on taking a swing at me.”

“I won’t stand for any insinuations.”

“How many languages do you speak?”

The question seemed to throw Heath. “What? I suppose - ten, eleven?”

“Don’t you think that’s a lot?”

“I had nothing to do during my medical leave, Belessar, so I learnt Japanese. And Korean, and Turkish. Languages have always been a hobby of mine.”

“You may find that one supercharged. Your power allows you to learn new languages at extreme speed - in a matter of hours.”

“Really. I guess it must have been my own laziness that made me struggle with German.”

“When did you struggle with German?”

“... In school.”

“Powers manifest at various ages. Yours seems to be recent. And, well, another aspect of your power is that you pick up extra information from observing people - reading their body language and inferring extra meaning.” I thought for a second. “That means my speech hit you with far more intensity than it would a normal person.”

“How do I know that? You have exactly one data point.”

“So teach someone else Raptor and have them listen to my speech. You’ll see the effect. Besides, if my words could get normal people to attack those around them in a blind rage?” I grinned. “You bet I’d use that. I’d make recordings in Xeranai and transmit them to the ships above us. That would break the siege, for sure.”

Heath’s scowl hadn’t lessened. “I have no desire to be an ultra.”

“Get yourself tested, Heath. Now get out of my office.”