Chapter 18: The Villain Executes His Plan

“No, Dixon, the entire fleet.”

“But sir...”

“Listen, Dixon. Let’s try this again. I need those six ships in the Blue Group, and I’m prepared to take that risk. So get the whole group to the rendezvous whatever it takes.

“But sir...”

“No buts, Dixon. We may lose a few ships, but I’m prepared to take that chance. This assignment must take precedence over all previous programming.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Old Man was on his game. He hadn’t felt this good since the last war. Finally, something worthwhile to put his energies into. Those annual revenge trips to 47b were nothing compared to this. That was fruitless. He knew that now. If only he had thought bigger, he might have done the deed decades ago. But that was water under the bridge. He was going to do it now, and nobody was going to stop him.

An engineering unit approached.

“Yes?”

“Red 41 lost containment in low orbit. It can no longer move under its own power,” it reported.

“Understood. Are the distortion field generators still operational?”

The engineering unit flipped through papers on its clipboard. “Three of the four appear to be undamaged.”

“Good,” the Old Man replied. “Have another Red tow it to the rendezvous. We’ll get use of her yet.”

“Very well, sir,” and he was off.

Seeing Ballerina again, hearing her voice, had refocused his mind. He had felt her presence before, but never like this. Before it had always been like a narcotic high, and coming down made him wish he had never felt her presence to begin with. But this. It was as if he had spent a lifetime with nightly dreams of missing trains and getting lost, and now, finally, before waking up he had caught the train and arrived at his destination. Instead of being devastated, he was renewed. Empowered. How many years had he wasted? And for what? What had he actually accomplished? He had survived, sure. He had had his little revenges, even better. But now those years felt like waste. He was no better than the refuse he disposed of every day. Worse, because at least the waste was turned to good use.

But now, now he had purpose. Now, instead of the trash that he daily turned into fuel for the unstoppables, he would use his fleet to create the most unstoppable weapon of all. He would create a hole so big, with so much energy, that the universes would join together permanently. And at last, at last, he would be reunited with his true love. Roam the void. Together. Forever.

“Sir.”

Distracted, the Old Man was surprised by the small robot that crept up behind him. Gathering himself, he answered. “What is it, Dixon?”

“Treachery, sir.”

The Old Man was taken aback. Did he even have any humans still in the company? He collected himself again, and said, “Treachery?”

“Yes sir. We have just had him removed from Green 112. He was reprogramming the distortion units.”

“A robot?”

“Navigation unit, yes.”

“Insane?”

“Possibly, sir. We have brought him to room 32 for reprogramming, and failing that, deactivation. Do you care to interrogate him?”

An insane robot. The sixth today. The last one had reportedly spoken with religious fervor about the end of the world. That one had actually made the Old Man laugh. After all, he wasn’t so far from the truth. He supposed this epidemic of mechanical insanity was the price he paid for pulling every half dead broken down unit into service. There were bound to be some breakdowns. Any thought that something unusual was going on, however, was completely overshadowed by his own obsession, perhaps insane in itself.

“No, Dixon. I don’t need to meet an insane robot. Learn what you can, check all the systems on the ship, and any ship the unit had access to. Report back to me if you find anything else.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good work, Dixon.”

“Thank you, sir.” And with that, the engineering unit, with new purpose, executed his orders.

“No matter,” the Old Man thought to himself. “In 36 hours they will all be gone. Every last one of them.”