Calculating
© 2023 by Walter Reimer



The holographic image hung in midair over Gromov Feranq’s desk as he studied the progress being made.

The image was a dockyard, designed to hold two ships with a central support and fabrication structure between them. One framework held the Wargod-class battleship Menhit, the ship from which he commanded the incursion into Kashlanin space. He and the vessel had barely made it through the Imperial response, and quite a few furs hadn’t survived.

Right now, the Menhit was being slowly dismantled, part of the agreed-upon disarmament term demanded by the Kashlani. The ship was largely irreparable anyway, so no great loss. Gromov gestured with an index finger, and the image rotated to show what was in the other dock cradle.

Menhit was being dismantled, yes, but its components and materials were being broken down and recycled, made into parts for the new battleship Righteous Sword, first of its class. Hard lessons had been learned at the Empire’s fingerclaws; the new ships were slightly smaller the Wargod-class they were replacing, but they had more efficient engines and twenty percent more power for the weaponry.

Terra’s fleet would be smaller by the end of the reconstruction, true, but it would also be newer and far stronger.

The tiger smiled at the sight of the new battleship taking form as the older one slowly disappeared, and thought briefly of how the same scene was being repeated throughout the Terran Empire, most of it in very quiet places.

“Admiral-General?”

Gromov gestured and the image vanished as the tiger sat back. “Yes, Avril?” he asked.

Terra had three strategic planning AI systems, named for famous military leaders. Avril was named for Zhang-Avril Makenzi, for example; its living namesake had been the right paw of Markus the Cruel.

A pair of blue feline eyes appeared on his desk, followed after a pause by the black-furred cat the AI was currently using as an avatar. Makenzi, of course, had been equine, but AIs had their own reasons for choosing their avatars. Avril sounded – diffident? – as she said, “The other AIs and I have been running projections, Sir. We wish to offer some conclusions.”

Gromov nodded. “Please do.”

Avril glanced left and right, and as her uniformed avatar rose out of the desk she was joined by two other images, a canine mel and a porcine sow. “We’ve been analyzing political, military, and economic trends for the Empire, the Colonies, and the Kashlaniazr,” she said, “and the outlook is not favorable.”

Gromov frowned. “Go on.”

“We anticipate greater economic ties between the Colonies and the Kashlani until the Empire, the Core worlds that is, become almost economically irrelevant,” the AI said. “The Core is already dependent on the Colonies for certain materials.” She glanced at the dog and the pig, who nodded. “We also anticipate greater political isolation from the Colonies as their ties to the Kashlani increase and improve.”

“I see,” the tiger said. He stroked the fur on his chin for a moment. “And militarily?”

“Bluntly put, Admiral-General,” the feline avatar said, “the next war will be the last one.” Her ears went back, as if what she said had shocked her.

Gromov’s frown deepened. “So. What do you three recommend?”

The three uniformed avatars looked at each other for a moment, before the canine spoke up. “It has been said, Admiral-General, that it is better to die on one’s feet than live on one’s knees,” he said in a soft, dry voice. “We have calculated the chances of a swift decapitating strike on the Kashlani – “

“It’s been tried before,” the tiger said in a flat tone.

“Yes, Sir,” the canine said.

The three AIs waited, and Gromov asked, “Have you factored in diplomatic initiatives?”

The sow’s nose twitched. “We have, Sir, but assigned the values a lower weight. We find that Terran and Kashlanin motivations to be difficult.”

“Understandable,” Gromov said with a thin smile. “Run your projections again, and please include the possibility of an Imperial-Colonial reconciliation.”

“On what basis, Admiral-General?” the sow asked.

The smile broadened. “I give you another saying,” he said to the canine avatar. “Time heals wounds. We are working to reconcile with the Colonies.”

“So, the Fleet – “ Avril ventured.

“Is still needed,” Gromov said. “We had to modernize anyway, so why not do it now, and right under their noses? Now, what about the AI-controlled patrol ships?”

The three avatars glanced at each other and the sow replied, “We had not taken into account the Kashlanin antipathy toward us. Could you not prevail upon the Foreign Ministry to explain to the Empire that you are using AIs to patrol the border, as an economy measure?”

“We are reducing the size of the Fleet,” the canine added.

“Excellent idea,” Gromov said.