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CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES,
FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d.

Kren Prepares for War 

It had been twelve years since Kren had received notice of his new prize. This was barely enough time to do all that needed to be done.

The Eleventh Colonizing Fleet could take only two dozen million Planetary Mitchegai to the new world, and Kren had more than six gross that number of subordinates. He had to be sure that he took only his very best along. He decided on taking a dozen million of his most proficient warriors, six million of his most competent scientists and technical people, and six million others, including his most astute administrators, businessmen, and the finest academics from all of his universities. He even planned to take along a few artists, poets, and writers.

Most of these selected people had been in space for years, training for their mission in new, first-quality bodies.

Kren had spent most of his vast personal fortune equipping his subordinates for this venture.

His engineers and builders needed the generalized machines necessary to build the specialized machines that made all of the myriad products that his new planet would need. They had to be prepared to be able to start with nothing but the rawest of materials, and to turn out the finest of end products.

Kren insisted that everything that they took with them must be of the very best quality.

The Mitchegai had millions of years of technology behind them, but if they did not have drawings of every possible thing that they might ever need with them, they would have to invent it afresh, something that they were not very good at. The technical plans alone for all that would be needed filled an entire large cargo ship. This was because their computers were so primitive, by human standards, that they had to take all of their plans printed on thin sheets of their immortal plastic.

They had to have enough food and supplies to last them at least two dozen years, when they should start to become self-sufficient in many matters. If anything was forgotten, they simply wouldn't have it. The success of the entire colonization program could depend on some trivial item, and when it did, they must have it with them.

His academics insisted on having a complete library of more than twelve million books, and Kren gave them permission to loot every library in every university on his lands, if need be, to get everything that they could possibly need.

Every person going was permitted to bring two tons of personal goods along, with the understanding that they would have to live with that for at least two dozen years before much of it could be replenished.

At his own considerable expense, Kren purchased an armored space suit for every one of the Planetary Mitchegai who was accompanying him. The Space Mitchegai told him that this was a silly way to waste money, and that they would never be needed, but they took his cash, delivered the products, and trained his subordinates in how to use them.

His best soldiers and officers, twelve million of them, were also equipped with every high-tech weapon that the Space Mitchegai could provide. They had been spending the last nine years in space, learning how to use them. This, too, was laughed at, but they took his money. His warriors got the weapons and training.

Kren also bought one million additional single seat fighters, and had a million of his warriors trained to use them, at a price that almost cleaned out his bank accounts. Indeed, he had to borrow money from his own banks, on zero interest, indefinite loans, before the production run was over. They called him crazy once more, but as always, he got his way.

His banks knew that they would never be repaid, and computed that it would be over a thousand years before they recovered. Yet none dared dispute the wishes of Kren.

Kren also had to purchase five additional cargo ships of the largest standard size to transport them all, and all at his own expense.

To Kren's mind, he had the money, and he was going to see to it that absolutely nothing got in the way of his smooth takeover of his personal planet.

"Madness," everyone else said.

Privately, Kren allowed that they might be right. It was probably wasted money. The cost of all of these precautionary expenditures was large but finite, and he could afford it. But the cost of failure was infinite! His life. And that, he could not afford!

What else could he spent his money on, anyway? Should he leave it in the bank on a planet four gross light-years away?

In addition to all of this, Kren was obligated to provide food for his own people, for the Space Mitchegai who would be accompanying him, and for the operators and fighters of the entire Eleventh Colonizing Fleet. They had to be fed for the duration of the trip, and for the next two dozen years thereafter, until the grass was growing and the juvenals were prospering. He also had to feed the fleet personnel, during their return trip.

Most of these children could be provided cryogenically frozen, to be thawed in microwave ovens before eating. This provided food that was barely acceptable to an adult Mitchegai. But fully a quarter of it was expected to be delivered live, for the culinary enjoyment of the upper ranks.

The ships were equipped with compartments that kept a child dormant at a few degrees above freezing, while surrounding her with monochromatic growing lights virtually identical to those Kren had developed to grow grass underground.

Since the Mitchegai skin could convert light to food almost as well as the grass could, these compartments could keep a juvenal dormant but alive for many years, ready to eat.

Kren had been very proud of those monochromatic lights that he had developed for his tunnels, and here, the Space Mitchegai had had the technology all along!

Kren just turned the problem of supplying enough children to feed the expedition over to Dol, and told her that the Superior Food Corporation would do it at its own expense.

Dol said, "Yes, sir."

Those he was leaving behind would have to be organized to survive without him. He did not want his lands to be overrun by other dukes, or his investments to go sour in his absence. There wasn't a really rational reason why he should care, but somehow he felt a certain attachment to what he had spent a long lifetime building.

General Yor had proved to be unfailingly competent and loyal for thousands of years. He had chosen her as his successor.

* * *

Kren awoke once more and stretched. He didn't feel totally miserable, and that would have to suffice. There wasn't much time left, and there was much yet to do.

He pulled off the recording helmet, relieved and refreshed himself. He dressed, removed the tape from the recorder, and put it in his pouch.

He went to the combination lock at the door, remembered the twelve number combination, and dialed it in. This was important, because ancient tradition required that if a duke forgot the combination, he would be left in the chamber, to die there. There was no way to open the door from the outside without causing the entire complex to self-destruct, violently.

This system protected him while he was in his stupor, but also there was always the possibility that something could go wrong in the resurrection process, and no one wanted to be ruled by an incompetent duke. Better a civil war than to have only half of your old master on the throne.

Kren opened the door to find Dol and Bronki waiting for him.

"It's good to see you well," Dol said.

"Yes, we were beginning to worry about you, my friend," Bronki added.

"Every time, it seems to take longer and hurt more," Kren said.

"You could always give up on this stupid traditional way of doing things, take an anesthetic, and wake up feeling good, the way sensible people do," Dol said.

"A leader who did that wouldn't be a leader for long," Kren said. He handed the personal history tape to Bronki. "I am still a bit worried about telling the truth about all that has happened. I know that your background as a historian makes you want what really happened to come out eventually, but it is still a very dangerous thing to do."

"Kren, despite everything, besides being individuals, we are also members of a great civilization. Without our history, we are nothing," Bronki said.

"Just be sure that this stays secret until long after I'm dead."

"Until long after all three of us are dead, if it contains everything that I think it does! I've already made arrangements with the Bonding Authority to keep it until one thousand years after the last of us has been registered as certainly and sincerely deceased. Then they will send it to the College of History at Dren."

"I suppose that the Bonding Authority can be trusted, if anybody can," Kren said. "I don't suppose that either of you has changed your minds? You are both intent on staying here on this planet when I leave?"

"Yes, sir," Dol said. "We're both really city girls, you know. We wouldn't fit in well on the wild frontiers. And anyway, you have set things up such that this entire solar system will starve if the Superior Food Corporation isn't managed properly. What's the point of conquering a new planet while leaving the old one to destroy itself? And who can say? Maybe you will need something from here once you are out there. It might take eight gross years to get there, but that's better than nothing."

Bronki said, "Also, there is always the chance that things will not work out on the new planet. It has happened a few times before in history, you know, where a promising-looking planet has had to be totally destroyed. If that were to happen to you, wouldn't you want to have a nice, safe place to come home to? We'll just put your stock in escrow, put the next largest stockholder on the board of directors, and carry on until you return, however many thousand years that takes."

"And who is this fourth largest stockholder?"

"Your bookie, of course!" Bronki said.

* * *

The Eleventh Colonizing Fleet was built, operated, and maintained by the Space Mitchegai. It was crewed by a very special group, since they spent most of their time traveling at nearly light speed. The time dilations involved were such that once they left, there wasn't much point in going home again. And indeed, their mission was such that they rarely went to the same solar system twice. Their lives, which from the outside seemed to be millions of years long, were spent in, with, and for The Fleet.

This consisted of over three thousand large cargo and passenger ships, and many times that number of smaller, auxiliary vessels. The local Space Mitchegai were contributing an additional gross of ships, and refurbishing the rest as needed, as their contribution to the coming venture.

The fleet also had three gross of truly massive battle ships, plus many thousands of small, single-seat fighters. This military arm had never seen action in its millions of years of existence, but military force had proved to be very useful to some of the other colonizing fleets in the past.

Of the seven thousand planets sent colony fleets to date, a dozen and ten had had indigenous populations capable of putting up a ferocious fight. Indeed, nine of those planets had had to be completely destroyed, since otherwise they could have become a threat to the entire Mitchegai civilization.

And anyway, the Mitchegai always felt more comfortable when they were well armed.

 

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