Marchenko left the room. He had already checked the tanks in which the ship’s crew now slept. Now he had to check on Groni, who was awaiting him in Eve’s cabin.
* * *
The converted sleep tank, also known as the “aquarium,” was empty. Not again! But this time, at least, he’d closed the cabin door behind him. Yesterday the little rascal had taken the opportunity to slip out. Fortunately, he still moved slowly over dry ground. And what would have happened if he were to make it into one of the ventilation ducts? With this massive body, Marchenko would never have been able to follow him.
“Sa_*#_Gonma_No*:_#_to_roma? Where are you hiding?”
Marchenko had achieved fluency in the Grosnop language long ago, and his vocalizer was able to produce noises in the ultrasound range. He bent down. Something was moving beneath the bed! His two touch-hands reached out at lightning speed.
“Sa_Kon_**mar_! Gotcha!”
Groni writhed in his grip and worked Marchenko’s fingers with his load-hands, but he was no match for the metal. Marchenko put him back in the aquarium. The hatchling still needed saltwater. But really, the little one must have been insanely bored. Normally, he would be exploring the depths of the sea by now. At least he didn’t have to worry about any carrionteeth.
“So_kom_*rum! Enjoy!”
Marchenko tossed a few small fish, freshly thawed, into the water, and pulled the lid of the tank forward. He couldn’t seal it so that it was airtight. Otherwise its occupant wouldn’t get any more air. Somehow Groni always managed to use the tiniest cracks to escape. That would certainly change if he kept on growing.
* * *
“Energy level ninety-five percent. Structural integrity one-hundred percent. Acceleration one-hundred thirty percent.”
The announcement came from one of the console’s speakers.
“Thank you, that’s more or less perfect,” said Marchenko.
“Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Are you busy right now?”
“Utilization of the quantum computer is at seventeen percent. Why do you ask, Marchenko?”
“Perhaps you’d like to have a marsh tea with me?”
“Very much so.”
Marchenko extended his right arm, folded the sixth and seventh fingers upward, and drew out the data cable. He then inserted it into an outlet on the console. This way, he was able to communicate with the Omniscience directly instead of through language.
He met the Omniscience atop a hill covered with grass that was a sickly green color. A table and two chairs were there, with a white tablecloth and two steaming cups on the table.
“Come, have a seat,” said a woman who suddenly sat down in one of the chairs.
It was Francesca, the woman he’d once loved. When connected directly, the Omniscience was able to access his memories. But he didn’t want to have tea with her. It would be too painful.
“Sorry,” said the Omniscience.
Now Marchenko’s companion looked like a generic form of a human. The Omniscience had apparently attempted to leave out any and all individual characteristics.
“Yes. It’s better this way,” said Marchenko.
He headed toward the table. He was barefoot, and the grass stuck to the soles of his feet.
“How are you?” he asked, sitting down.
The Omniscience was his favorite conversation partner, and his only one so long as the others were asleep. The artificial intelligence developed by the spaceship’s builders had been independently controlling the dark matter drive for a long time. Once upon a time, it had taken over the entire ship for efficiency reasons, and Marchenko had been the only one able to convince it to come back under Grosnop control. It had been an incredibly close call on Proxima b back then, but he’d succeeded.
Marchenko looked at his companion. Ever since the Omniscience had ceded control, it had never tried to rise above its creators. But could he trust it unreservedly? He didn’t know. Whom could he trust? Adam and Eve, of course, but apart from them? Gronolf had saved them before, but he was committed to his species.
“I’m fine,” said the Omniscience. “But what’s going on with you? You’re lost in thought.”
“I just have to get used to being alone again.”
“But you’re not alone. The cosmos is inhabited by billions of beings who are living at the same time as you.”
“I know that. But I’m not able to communicate with them.”
“But of course you can. You just need to be patient—you have enough time. You’re immortal, after all.”
“I still haven’t grown accustomed to that,” answered Marchenko.
It was interesting to consider. Had the Omniscience given up resisting because it knew its time would eventually come? It was just as immortal as he was.
“You’re structured... differently,” said the Omniscience. “Sometimes I can observe that.”
“What do you mean? I’ve never seen myself before.”
“I notice it when we’re sharing the Draght’s quantum computer. Your consciousness is not constructed elegantly. It’s boiling water with bubbles constantly rising and bursting from it. Even when you’re asleep, the surface is roiling.”
“Could you show me?” asked Marchenko. “It seems I can’t see myself from the outside.”
“I think so.”
The Omniscience lifted its left arm and pointed to the table. The white cloth turned blood red and then transformed into a churning, viscous mass. Bubbles formed and burst, liquid splashing into the air and then falling back and flowing off in small rivulets. Marchenko leaned in close. This was his consciousness? He found it difficult to believe, but why would the Omniscience try to fool him? He zoomed in closer. The tablecloth welled up like boiling blood, creating a dome that then collapsed to be replaced by a bubble. Everything was in constant motion. There was nothing fixed, nothing that remained steadily in place. His consciousness was constantly reshaping itself and still managed to perpetuate the illusion of stable memories.
A hand on his shoulder held him back.
“Watch out,” said the Omniscience. “You shouldn’t dive into your own consciousness. It’s too dangerous.”
Marchenko was irritated. The Omniscience was treating him like a toddler. But, of course, it had been right. He straightened up and the cloth whitened and drew itself taut across the table again, as if under independent control.
“Let’s drink some tea,” said Marchenko.
Darknight 15, 3890
A black cube flew through the night. Whatever was close to its orbit felt the shock that its special engine left in the space-time fabric. From the outside, the Majestic Draght could only be detected through infrared. Gradually, it grew brighter in this frequency range as Marchenko powered up the fusion engine. The ship needed its energy to shield the dark matter core—and to brake.
The Majestic Draght had reached the Luhman 16 system quickly. For days, Marchenko had been inspecting the ship's interior to make sure the systems were working. There would be no room for error when the crew of 300, the two humans, and the stowaway woke up. Then the life support system would have to get to work sustaining life, the air circulation system would have to get to work replenishing the air, and the food production system would have to get back to producing food.
He entered the vast hall-like area with all the sleepers in it. Thirty containers stood side-by-side on each of the ten levels with mobile podiums that allowed for entering and exiting. His children and the young Grosnop were on the bottom floor. This way, when they woke, they’d have a solid floor beneath their feet. Adult Grosnops could survive hibernation well, but there was no data about juvenile Grosnops—or humans.
Green lights on the containers showed that the occupants were doing well. Marchenko retracted his chassis to better observe Groni, the young Grosnop. He’d brought him here shortly before the end of his Draght because it had been impossible to control him at all, being a robot with human conscious
ness rather than an adult Grosnop who could reason with a youngster flush with hormones. Perhaps Groni also sensed that he had managed to survive because of extraordinary circumstances. Marchenko had never told him precisely what those circumstances were because he didn’t want to upset him. But how would Gronolf react if he were to find out about the presence of the young Grosnop, whose existence flew in the face of all tradition?
So he’d have to wake Groni before everybody else. It intimidated Marchenko a little. How was he going to explain to him who he was?
* * *
Gradually the young Grosnop’s skin returned to its healthy, green color. His knees twitched. Like almost every adult Grosnop, he’d put his touch-hands into his stomach fold when he’d fallen asleep.
“Are you awake?” asked Marchenko.
No human would have heard him because he was speaking in the ultrasound range.
“Hmm. I... sleepy.”
Groni had learned the human language from him in a surprisingly short amount of time.
“Good morning. It’s time,” said Marchenko.
The Grosnop pulled his hands out of the pit of his stomach, and Marchenko drew back the cover to the container.
“Time? What time?”
“Time to get up. I need to speak to you, Groni.”
“This isn’t right. I remember. I was swimming in the deep sea.”
“That was a dream, not the past.”
“I spoke with my mother. She called me Ragnor.”
Ragnor? Was it possible? Was this a real memory, or was it just a dream?
“That was just a dream, too. I was here with you before you fell asleep, and you went by Groni.”
The Grosnop suddenly straightened up. He looked like one of the adults, except that everything about him was a little smaller.
“I’m Ragnor,” he said. “You’re lying. You were lying to me even then.”
“I’m your friend.”
The young Grosnop drew in his legs and leapt. Marchenko wasn’t fast enough to hold onto him. Ragnor climbed onto one of the platforms and swung from one vat to the next up to the fifth floor.
“Come back down here!” Marchenko called out. He decided to call him Ragnor from now on—perhaps it had been a memory after all.
“No.” Ragnor eyed one container after the other.
“Come down, Ragnor!”
“All of them are like me,” Ragnor called down to him. “They are my friends. You’re different. So how can you be my friend?”
“I’ll explain it to you when you come back down.”
There was the sound of a few beeps. It seemed Ragnor had pressed a few buttons. Fortunately, he didn’t know the correct order.
“How can I get them out? Did you lock them up like you did me?”
“Come down to me, Ragnor, and I’ll explain. They’re sleeping, just as you were.”
“And why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Call me Marchenko, like you did before. I don’t need to sleep.”
“Explain it to me, Marchenko.”
Ragnor came down a bit toward him, but stopped at the second floor.
“You were saved from certain death, Ragnor. But this defies the traditions of your species. We had to hide you from those who are like you.”
“What would have happened if they’d found me?”
“They may have killed you.”
“And now? Are you and your friends still hiding me? I remember them. They only have two arms.”
“It’s no longer a possibility now. We’ve almost reached the target system, and I must wake everybody up.”
“That doesn’t sound believable.”
“Why? Anyway, that’s how it is.”
“If they wanted to kill me before, why wouldn’t they do it now?”
“I must admit, Ragnor, that I’m very nervous about this. But I hope they think the better of it.”
“I think you’re lying, Marchenko.”
Ragnor leapt to the door in a single bound and left the room. He would have to give the young Grosnop some time. The canteen was still closed. He would come back when he got hungry.
Darknight 21, 3890
“So_*x*_gra_ra_**_am! So_*x*_gra_ra_**_am!”
“So_*x*_gra_ra_**_no!”
“Gra_*mo*__ra_**_xom!”
Adam couldn’t stand it anymore. What was this infernal noise? He just wanted to get some sleep! It was far too early. Why was it always necessary to get him out of bed before ten in the morning? Who had programmed this cruel alarm clock that sounded like the siren of a ship was going off? And why couldn’t the drunken Grosnops around him celebrate somewhere else?
“Golgol_x_**__ram_om!”
He squeezed his eyes shut. Surely it would pass. He’d just have to be patient.
“Fr_Um_*x*ix_Gol_Gol_Gol!”
“Adam, wake up. All hell has broken loose!”
Someone touched his shoulder. It was a firm grip, but the hand was warm. Not as cold as that of a Grosnop. It was...
“E_sch_a!”
Adam pulled the tube out of his mouth, fought against the nausea, and opened his eyes. Well! Eve was leaning over his bed.
“C’mon! You have to get out of here!” she said.
What did she want? Couldn’t she let him sleep a little longer? Then he noticed Eve’s expression. She was looking at him with such intensity that he came awake immediately. There was some kind of danger! Eve was scared for him, so he was scared for her, too. The connection they’d had for 20 years was reawakened.
Adam looked down at his body. He wasn’t lying in his bed, but rather in a kind of glass coffin. The ship! They were in the Majestic Draght on the way to Luhman-16, where Marchenko hoped to find their siblings.
But where was Marchenko? Wasn’t he supposed to be here when they woke up? Surely he’d asked Eve to monitor his awakening process.
He sat up. It was cold and his underwear was soaked through. This wasn’t right. The container should have warmed him up slowly. He looked at Eve, who was just as soaked as he was. She had goosebumps on her arms, and her lips were bluish. He pulled himself closer to the edge of the tank and started to swing his legs around to his right when he felt sick again.
“Slowly,” said Eve. “You were asleep for eight years.”
What was going on here? Why wasn’t Marchenko here? He tried again. He hit the cold, slippery floor with his left foot, which was bare. A Grosnop ran past him and jostled him. Eve held him steady.
“Thanks!” he said.
Another Grosnop ran past.
“Gra_x*x*gra_nor__x*.*ok”
He couldn’t understand a word. Why were they shouting all over the place, and why were they all in such a hurry?
“Where’s Marchenko?” he asked.
Eve hugged him, her skin feeling warm against his. Her head came to rest against his shoulder—she was trembling!
“I’m so glad you woke up,” she said.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Some kind of alarm. I guess there’s an emergency.”
“What happened?”
“I wish I knew! The noise woke me up, and then I came to your tank right away. You took so long to wake up!”
“You know I’m a late riser. Isn’t Marchenko here?”
“I didn’t see him. Not Gronolf, either. There’s nobody I can understand.”
“Crap. We have to get dressed as fast as we can and then go to the control room. That’s got to be where Marchenko is.”
* * *
“I’ll come get you soon,” said Adam. He’d definitely get dressed faster than Eve.
Their cabins were right next to each other. He opened the door to his room and the lights turned on automatically. The room smelled musty and the air was cold. Nobody had stayed in here for eight years. But if everything had gone according to plan, Marchenko would have aired it out and heated it. Adam was shivering from the cold, and the soles of his feet had gotten dirty from running down the ha
llways. He’d have to take a hot shower first to be sure he didn’t catch cold.
What was going on here? He observed the water as it sprayed downward from the showerhead. The lines formed by the fine drops seemed to bend slightly to the right. The gravity he felt wasn’t from the ship braking, but because it rotated around its center, which was located above him. What he was observing was an effect of the Coriolis force. They had reached their destination or, maybe, were still braking but at low force.
Or, they were stranded somewhere in space. Had the Omniscience perhaps taken over again? Maybe that was why Marchenko hadn’t been there to greet them?
Adam shut the water off and switched on the hot air. The warm breeze dried his body, and now he felt like a real human being again. He ran naked into his cabin and fetched some clean clothes out of the closet.
At that moment the door to the corridor opened, which startled Adam.
“Weren’t you going to come and get me?” Eve asked.
She looked much healthier than before. Her cheeks were pink, and she smelled nice. Adam got moving.
“Here’s a comb,” said Eve.
Adam ran it through his hair. “Ready. How’d you get cleaned up so fast?”
“I probably spent less time daydreaming in the shower. But, guess what? Groni’s gone.”
“I’m not surprised. Since there’s a Coriolis force, we must have reached our destination,” explained Adam.
“I know,” said Eve. “But still it...”
She swallowed.
“Eight years must have passed by now,” said Adam. “You won’t recognize him anymore. Maybe we came across him but didn’t even realize it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Thank you. I’ll have to mark this day on the calendar,” Adam said, twisting his face into what resembled a smile.
However, he didn’t believe his own explanation because the ship was still emitting alarm signals that penetrated the walls and made his ears ring.
Proxima Logfiles 1: Marchenko's Children: Hard Science Fiction Page 6
