Frankowski, Leo - Tank 3 - Kren of the Mitchegai

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Kren of the Mitchegai

Prologue

DEDICATION

This one is again dedicated to my lovely wife,

Marina, and to her father, Vasili Ivanovich, for

making the roof fit on my castle.

-Leo Frankowski

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my most excellent partner, Lt. Colonel Dave

Grossman, for all his encouragement and enthusiasm.

Richard T. Bolgeo, Bruce R. Quayle, Ed Dunnigan, Mike Hubble,

Mike Thelen, and Rodger Olsen all made many valuable suggestions

and did yeoman service at proofreading.

And special thanks go to Dave's Ever Perfect Lieutenant, Susan, in the

hope that she will someday stop calling me "Sir."

-Leo

I want to take this opportunity to offer my sincere thanks and

appreciation, first and foremost, to Leo Frankowski, a wise and

experienced science fiction writer who has helped me to enter into the

world of SF. Leo has been one of my heroes as a writer, but now he is

a hero and a friend as a person. Hooah!

-Dave

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE

Mickolai's Homecoming

New Yugoslavia, 2205 a.d.

It had been one hell of a battle. More than half of my men had been

killed. Not just casualties. Killed. In armored space warfare, nonfatal

injuries are very rare.

The enemy had been defeated, but we had not really accomplished our

objective. We had been ordered to capture the Solar Station that was

maintaining the continued expansion of Human Space. Instead, we had

been forced to completely destroy it.

Now, something else would have to be built to take over that job.

Something very expensive.

When what was left of my battalion got home, there wasn't anyone

waiting for us. Military receiver stations aren't set up to handle crowds;

the few operable transmitters on Earth's wrecked Solar Station took

four days to get those of us who had survived back home, and that's a

long time to keep a brass band going. Anyway, all we really wanted

was a long sleep in a real bed. The parades and awards could come

later.

The War With Earth was over, and the good guys, those of us from the

colonies, had won. My unit was the only one to take really serious

casualties; I was the commander, and so somehow in the public

imagination that made me a hero. A strange way of looking at things,

praising the guy who had done his job the worst, but it has always been

that way. Maybe the psychology of it all is that, "If it cost us that much,

it must have been important."

I left orders that all of my men, mostly Gurkha mercenaries, were to go

on R & R for an indefinite period. They could do whatever they wanted

to do, provided that they kept in touch.

For myself, all I wanted was to go home to my wife.

When the elevator got me from my garage up to my apartment, I found

my Kasia standing there wearing nothing but a glorious smile. She was

on maternity leave, and three months pregnant, but it didn't show,

except that she looked even more beautiful than ever.

"You lived," she said. "Thank you."

She kissed me, and the war, the deaths, and all of the ugliness was

somehow worth it. I picked her up, stepped back into the elevator, and

then carried her over the threshold once more, just as when we had

first been married, and the other times when I had come home

victorious.

She squealed in her usual way, and I said, "Family traditions must be

upheld, once per victory!"

And then, I carried her to the bedroom.

After a wonderful night, we rolled out of bed at the crack of noon, and

we went to the kitchen looking for something to eat.

Our servants, military combat drones decorated to look like medieval

knights, and operated by the artificial intelligences in our tanks, had

anticipated us. They had a fine spread set out for us. We had

everything from smoked salmon that I had caught on our honeymoon to

delicately fried crêpes suzette. And lots of good coffee from New

Macedonia.

I said, "So, love. I assume that you have heard about all that I've been

up to?"

"Yes, the news has been full of it, and the new movie that your tank,

Agnieshka, put together, has been out for a week now. Good God,

what a bloody mess!"

"It was that. Nobody expected what we were going to run into. But tell

me about you. What's been happening? Your investments go well?"

"Oh, yes, we're richer than ever," she said. "But for the last week, I've

mostly been working with your Gurkhas."

"My Gurkhas didn't start coming home until three days ago, and they're

not all here yet."

"But their wives and families and all of their friends who want to enlist

have been arriving in droves! If the statistical projections have anything

to do with reality, you will have an army of over a hundred and twenty

thousand men within the month. That's if none of the women decide to

"Hoy! Well, we need the troops, and maybe now they'll make me a

real general," I said.

"They'd damn well better! But finding a place for everyone has been

something of a problem. Half of the new ones are living in that

gold-plated castle that you built, but nobody wanted. The rest are

scattered all over the place."

"Well, you and our metal ladies can work it out. If you can't, talk to

Professor Cee, my Combat Control Computer. He's got more

electronic brains than anybody else I know of."

"Meaning that you don't want to get involved," she said.

"Right. The duty of a general is to look at the big picture, and let the

details be handled by staff officers like my loving wife. Right now, the

big picture involves rest and recuperation for the battalion, and most

especially for the commanding officer, which obviously necessitates

going back to bed with you!"

"Go to bed if you want to, but do it alone. Right now, this staff officer

has work to do."

"Delegate it!" I shouted, as she left the room.

Somehow, being a general does not put you in command of your wife,

even when she does work for you.

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Contents

INTERLUDE ONE

Agnieshka's Bow

THE RIGELLIAN INSTITUTE OF

ARCHEOLOGY,

EARTH, 3783 a.d.

Sir Percival stepped up to the podium of the filled-to-capacity

auditorium, and wagged his tail respectfully to the attentive audience.

"Before we get to the performance that I am sure that you are all

anxious to see, I have a very short and pleasant announcement to

make! I have this on the very best possible authority! Rupert, the

person who found the ancient tank on an ice moon, and who used its

computer records to compile these amazing histories of our beloved

forebears, the humans, has been placed on the Queen's Birthday List!

Henceforth, you may address him as 'Sir Rupert!' "

The crowd applauded and barked enthusiastically, even though this

enlargement had been expected by everyone for weeks.

"And now, I give you Sir Rupert!"

Rupert took Sir Percival's place at the podium as the crowd continued

in its polite clapping and barking.

"Thank you, my friends, thank you!" When the applause died down, Sir

Rupert continued, "I, too, have a pleasant announcement to make, as

well as an introduction of my own. I'm sure that most of you are aware

that the museum here has had a military social drone on display for over

a hundred years. It has been immobile all that time, since we have

lacked the technology to repair it. But Agnieshka, the artificial

intelligence in the Mark XX tank that I managed to recover, was quite

familiar with this model of drone, and indeed had a small hand in

designing it. Under her direction, the drone has now been repaired, and

I would now like to present it to you, along with Agnieshka herself,

who is 'wearing' it!"

Again, the crowd started to applaud politely, but as Agnieshka came in

a side door and stepped up onto the stage, they became silent. At first

a few, and then soon everyone in the audience, slid off of their chairs,

and sat on the floor with their forepaws on the ground and their arms

straight. It was the dog's ancient gesture of respect.

Agnieshka said, "Please, get back in your chairs! I know that I look

like a human, but I'm really just an intelligent machine! We machines

loved and respected the humans as much as your people do. The

artificial intelligences were humanity's second great friends, but you

Canines were the first. For at least ten thousand years, long before

selective breeding and genetic modification made you into intelligent,

bipedal beings with hands, you were humanity's friends, their guards,

and their workmates. We machines were developed much later.

Therefore, it is fitting that I should make obeisance to you."

Agnieshka's drone made a deep bow to the audience.

They stood, and applauded her, in the human fashion.

"Thank you!" Agnieshka said, "I hope that your people and mine can

become good friends. We can be very useful to each other. I believe

that it is likely that I can help you revive certain of the sciences and

technologies that have been lost on this planet, and that there are other

vital things that we can do together as well. But for now, let's get on

with the presentation that Sir Rupert and I have put together. We will

be starting with a study of our universal enemy, the Mitchegai."

The audience sat down, but again applauded.

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Contents

CHAPTER TWO

FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES,

FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d.

Formal Dining with the Mitchegai

The reader will please note that all numbers mentioned herein in

the Mitchegai sections are in the duodecimal system.

For the benefit of the casual reader, I mention that a thousand

in base twelve is 1728 in base ten, a million in base twelve is

just under three million in base ten, and a billion in base twelve

is over five billion in base ten.

Also, please note that all weights, measurements, and time

periods mentioned are only the crudest of approximations.

For a complete listing of all Mitchegai weights and measures,

see Appendix L of the accompanying Mitchegai Academic

Text.

All numbers in the Human sections are in decimal, and all

measures are in the metric system.

-Sir Rupert of the Rigellian Museum

She was four feet tall, she was bright green, and she stank.

Four feet was a very acceptable height for a five-year-old, nameless

Mitchegai. All of her age mates were exactly the same size, since the

Mitchegai have very little genetic diversity. Like the others, she still had

relatively useless hands and arms hanging from her stooped-over body,

which was counterbalanced by a heavy tail and propelled by two

powerful legs. A human child might think that she was a baby

Tyrannosaurus rex, except that she had a flat-fronted, vegetarian

mouth.

Hers were not the pointed teeth of a carnivore, but the squared-off

incisors and flattened molars of a plant eater. Like all herbivores

everywhere, she had spent most of her short life grazing on plants.

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KrenoftheMitchegaiPrologueDEDICATIONThisoneisagaindedicatedtomylovelywife,Marina,andtoherfather,VasiliIvanovich,formakingtherooffitonmycastle.-LeoFrankowskiACKNOWLEDGMENTSIwouldliketothankmymostexcellentpartner,Lt.ColonelDaveGrossman,forallhisencouragementandenthusiasm.RichardT.Bolgeo,BruceR.Quayle,...

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Frankowski, Leo - Tank 3 - Kren of the Mitchegai

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