Tommy shifted his legs over the edge of the bunk and put his head between his legs. "I hope I can find out what's wrong with me. The farmers said the doctors on this ship aren't much." Thinking about the farmers and their new reaction to him made his head throb again.
His first words to Valin when he entered the workroom were, "Did Feron get medical books?"
Valin got a stricken expression on his face. "You're sick. How sick are you?"
"I don't know. That's why I want some medical books--to find my symptoms. Mom always looked up our symptoms in a book we had at home before any of us went to the doctor."
Valin called, "Come with me," over his shoulder as he quickly went out the door and down the passageway.
Another large room held wall-to-wall shelves filled with books. Valin led Tommy to a huge section containing nothing but medical books. "Another team will start on these soon. They're hoping you will also be able to help them, not just to translate them, but to understand them."
Tommy said, "Sure, sure," and began scanning the shelves for a general-purpose book of symptoms. When he found one, he sat down on the floor.
"Severe headache. Distorted vision. Disoriented. Sensitivity to light." He read for a while. "Well, I'm not going to die. I have a migraine headache. Usually brought on by stress, it says. Well, that's curious. I'm not under any stress, am I?" His laugh cut off when his head shook, and he endured another throb of pain. "My aunt has migraine headaches, but I never have before." He squinted at Valin. "Never been trapped on a starship either. Did you get drugs along with the medical books? The book lists some that are prescribed for migraine."
Valin led Tommy, book in hand, to another warehouse-sized compartment, filled with pallets stacked onto deep shelves. "The drugs we got from pharmaceutical suppliers are on the far end of the box room."
As they walked that way, every few steps brought another odor. Some he knew should be pleasant but were too strong; some were sharp and penetrating--one of powerful onions, another of equally strong cloves--making his eyes water; some disgusting, reminding him of the boys' bathroom at summer camp. With each change, his head pulsed and his stomach churned in time with the pounding in his head.
The smells were muted among the pallets of pharmaceuticals. Each pallet had a sheet pasted on the side listing its contents. After a half-hour search, he found a pallet containing Sumatriptan unit dose sprays, packed in boxes of three inside cases of twenty-four. He tore plastic wrap off of one corner of the pallet and pulled out a box. "I'm not going to get in trouble for this, am I? Not that I care at the moment."
"The lords allow us to get medicine for our own use. No one will complain, as long as you explain to our doctors why you chose what you did."
Tommy read the attached instructions. "If this works, no problem. The book said the medicine should be taken when the headache begins, and the visual distortions first appear, but it's supposed to help as long as the headache lasts."
He tilted his head back and squirted the medicine into his right nostril. The spray burned as it worked its way down his throat.
"Ahhh," Tommy leaned against the shelving and took a few deep breaths. The inside of his nose seemed to be expanding into his skull.
"Did that help?"
Tommy shook his head and winced. "Not yet. But it did take my mind off the pain for a second. Let me sit here for a while and give it a chance."
As the drug took effect, the headache receded and left an air-filled balloon of the same size inside his head. He noticed the odors again. Now, they weren't so disturbing. What else was stored in this place?
He stood up and looked across the warehouse. "Do you mind if we walk for a bit. I'm not ready to go to work yet."
"No, but we mustn't be too long. You may be sick, but I don't have an excuse."
"Before we go, let me take a few of these in case I have a relapse." Tommy pulled out a second box of the nasal sprays.
"How did you get all of these prescription medicines? Did an American company sell you these?"
"I was told a company from your Southern continent sold all of what you call prescription medicines to our agent. He was unable to obtain them directly from the producer."
Tommy put the two boxes under his arm and began circling the warehouse with Valin following.
Valin’s tone was stern. "I caution you, you may look, but don't disturb anything. The items we have been searching through are for our own use, though the lords may trade for them if they wish. The remainder of the warehouse contains trade goods."
"I won't touch anything. I'm just waiting for the medicine to work. What's stored in here? I didn't pay attention to the symbol on the door."
"This is one of many compartments used to store organic substances that do not require refrigeration. Earth's life is unique, as is the life of each world, and it produces unique products, some of them valuable to others."
Tommy stopped by a line of shelves containing hundreds of shrink-wrapped pallets loaded with brown burlap bags. The smell was unmistakable. "This is coffee. My Dad says he can't work without a cup of coffee in the morning."
They passed shelves with the aroma of mint, pepper, and other spices. Another was packed with bottles of perfume, one of which must have broken. The fragrance brought back memories of his great aunt. His Mom used to say that his aunt doused herself with perfume rather than bathe. He closed his eyes as he was suddenly overwhelmed with images of his aunt’s house; of the piles of old magazines that she refused to throw away stacked against the walls; and of the chocolate chip cookies she always made for him. He shook his head, bringing another sharp pain. No use thinking about that, he thought.
They continued down the aisle where other shelves were packed with roughly cut lumber, some with exotic curling grain, each with a distinct fragrance. Most of the items he couldn't identify, and Valin was usually of no help.
As they neared the finish of their circle, Tommy saw something that seemed familiar. Against the wall beside the door were at least fifty pallets of clear plastic bags, each the size of a half-gallon jug, filled with a white substance. Where had he seen bags like that before? It hit him. He had seen something like this on TV.
"You say you got most of this stuff from the Southern continent. Do you mean South America?"
"That's what I was told."
"Do you have any idea what this is; how dangerous it is?"
Valin gave him a blank expression. "What the lords trade for is none of our business."
"Well, maybe it should be. If I'm right, this is cocaine. Maybe tons of cocaine."
Valin tilted his head to the side and frowned. "Why should that concern me?"
"This is a dangerous, addictive drug. It's illegal in the United States, but criminals make millions of dollars selling it, anyway."
"Again I ask, why should I be concerned? The lords often trade in substances banned on the world of their origin. I'm told such substances are often of great value, elsewhere."
Tommy shook his head. "I suppose the good side is this is one large load that won't be sold in Georgia. But you'd better hope none of it gets out in the ship among your people or the farmers."
"What's done to those who use this or supply this on Earth?"
"They spend time in jail."
"Here, the lords would kill them. Not for using the drug, but for stealing from their trade goods. No drug would be worth that."
Tommy bent over and peered at the bottom of the nearest pallet. The plastic wrap and one of the bags inside had small ragged tears and the powder had trickled on the floor.
"Maybe, but if not, you have an addicted mouse in this compartment," He stood up and faced Valin. "And if it's a mouse, my cat won't be used to catch it. I don't want him anywhere close to this stuff."
"That's none of my business, nor should it be any of your business.” Valin said. “Are you well enough now to work?"
Tommy jerked his head a little. The pain was gone. He still felt a little lightheaded and ti
red, but the book said the medicine might have that effect. "Yes, finally. Let's get started." Getting involved again with computers, after so many months of manual labor, and even under these circumstances, was the most wonderful thing that could possibly happen to him. Well, except for going home.
Valin
Valin had to struggle to keep up with Tommy on his way back to the workroom. This strange boy was more astonishing each hour. His first impression of Tommy had been of a muscular lump, nothing at all like the slender and graceful humans living below the Commons. He still looked like a lump, but he confronted problems as Valin never could have.
When the computers proved to be outdated, Tommy had immediately begun to think of solutions. Valin would have acquiesced to his fate. When Tommy was sick, his response had been to seek a solution to his problem in a book. Valin would have gone to a ship's doctor and accepted whatever treatment he was given. He was sure the doctor wouldn't have taken the time to explore the new medicines from Earth just for him.
Those on this ship were trained in their professions and not encouraged to look elsewhere or think for themselves.
Maybe he and his family would survive this. Maybe Tommy would succeed at the tasks Lord Ull had given him. Whatever happened, he was sure the way Tommy performed those tasks would be unique.
Chapter Six: And your Reward Will Be…
The reality of Tommy's new job was not as Valin described. On their return to the workroom, they found Valin's staff diligently copying from the books they had been given into spiral notebooks.
"What are they doing?" Tommy asked.
"They're translating, as best they can without your help. We have been doing so ever since we left Earth. We have to be seen making progress. The books we've finished are in the bookcases against the wall."
"No, I mean why are they writing the translation with pens on paper?"
"How else would you do it?"
"I would type the translation into a word processor program."
"I saw a book about one of those. I read the first chapter and couldn't make sense of it. Assuming we had a word processor, which we don't, how would we get the translation on paper, so others could read it?"
"You would use a printer. A device that prints words on paper."
"I've seen such a device on an upper deck, but we've none here. The only printers we have, in this room, are my workers."
"What do you do if you need another copy?"
"Someone copies the original. We have to, anyway, at least once. We can't allow anyone to take the proof."
"There's got to be a better way. What books are they translating? Do you mind if I look?"
At Valin's nod, he circled the table, checking each title. "You picked these at random, didn't you?"
"We had no other method of doing so, without your help."
Tommy picked up one of the notebooks--it had University of Connecticut printed on the cover--and compared the first few pages of the translation with the book. He shook his head. "You know, guessing doesn't help with this. Valin, do you remember seeing computer books with 'Idiot' or 'Dummies' in the title?"
"Yes, I remember seeing those."
"Why didn't you pick any of those to translate?"
Valin's sniff was audible. "The titles were insulting, since we are neither idiots nor dummies. The books I did choose were weightier, with more content."
Tommy shook his head. "Yes, they are, and they're beyond you at the moment. The idiot and dummy books are for beginners. The language is simple, and they have lots of diagrams. If your assistants translate those, they might learn something, then the weightier books will be easier." A thought occurred to him. He looked at the door to the room containing the dead computers. "Even better, you won't need as much of my help for the translations, and I'll have time to do other things."
"What else will you be doing?"
"All of this will be much easier if you have a computer to work with. If you'll let me, I'll be building a system from a few of those spare parts in the warehouse."
Valin made another call to Feron, and, after the midday meal, Tommy was again in the storage room, unwrapping pallets of computer equipment. He looked up from tearing off the plastic wrap on a pallet to Feron who had let him in. "It would help if you had a list of all this stuff."
"We do. Several. At least for part of what is here."
"You do! Why didn’t you give it to me when we were here before? A list would have saved time."
"That never occurred to me. You seemed to know what you were doing. I didn't want to interfere."
When Feron returned with a stack of paper six inches thick, Tommy stopped opening pallets and spread the stack on the floor. As he studied the lists, he smiled. The smile became, "Yes! Yes!" when the last page was turned.
"I hope that means good news," Feron said.
"I think it does. As best I can tell, two-thirds of what you have in this room is from two companies that went out of business after the last Christmas I was on Earth. Both companies were on-line suppliers and had a little bit of everything. These papers say your agent bid on and won their entire remaining inventory. What's here was already six months out of date when you brought me here, but that doesn't matter to you. It certainly doesn't matter to me. The computer I was using at home was eighteen months old and wasn't the fastest one available. Somewhere in this room are pallets of PC's up to 3.2 GigaHertz, tower servers, laptops, printers, disk drives, monitors, switches, routers--whatever we could wish for. We even have two thousand cases of printer paper."
"You should realize I have no idea what any of that means. Will that help us use Earth computers on this ship? Are my family's lives and my life safe?"
"I hope so. If it's possible to connect Earth's computers to your ship, we have a chance. I do have one question. Can you provide the alternating electric current I need in the right voltage and amps?"
Feron may have had a list, but Tommy could find no logic in the way the pallets were stored in the warehouse. Since he had to divide his time between helping the translators and examining pallets, he took most of a week to find the first items he needed. The artisans required an equal time to install and test the power system he would be using.
After he got the boxes moved into what he now called the computer room, he spent another day putting a computer together, complete with every gadget he could stuff into it. When he was ready to plug into the power, the three artisans who had installed the wall sockets stood behind him, waiting for something to catch fire.
Tommy smiled and shook his head at the Earth-made fire extinguisher one of them carried. "You're not very optimistic,"
"The lords expect us to be prepared and to not start fires in their ship," the man replied. "Please continue."
Plugging the computer into the wall socket was uneventful except for some lights on the printer and DVD burner, so he pushed the boot button. As the computer attempted to boot from the C drive, what he read on the monitor made him grin. "Success. Now, I need you to do the same thing in the next room. We'll be putting at least nine computers in that room, too."
The men looked at Valin, who watched apprehensively from the doorway. "Please do whatever he asks. The lords have said this project is important," Valin said.
The first real glitch occurred when Tommy installed the operating system. He had no way to connect to the Internet. For that matter, the Internet had to be light years away. Registering the software with the manufacturer was impossible. This operating system would work for a while without registration, but, when the registration period expired, it would stop.
Tommy felt certain he could hack the registration code, given enough time. He found the problem so interesting, that he almost lost sight of what he was trying to do. Maybe later, he thought, if I ever get a break from all of this. Instead, he went to the warehouse to search for a different operating system.
Valin had been watching his progress and had been elated when pictures and words appeared on the sc
reen. He followed Tommy into the isles between the pallets. "Are you ready to build a computer for me? Can I help you find what you need?"
"Actually, Valin, the first computer isn't finished yet. I must replace the software I installed with what's called 'open source' software. You can help me find it, if you want. We're searching for something called Linux and Open Office. Here's where they are listed on the packing slips."
"Why is this necessary?"
"Let's just say the support desk is too far away and leave it at that. I would have had to find Linux, anyway, to set up a server network. Might as well be positive."
Because Tommy's knowledge of Linux was limited to the network at his school in Atlanta, he soon had piles of books on his desk. Late into the sleep period, he sat with Potter curled in his lap, reading about what he planned to do the next morning. An accomplished tech would have set up the network and put a computer on every translator's desk in a few days. He needed most of a month.
He worked alone in the beginning, but, when Valin overheard him complaining to himself about having to put connectors on the ends of so many cables, he was assigned two young men as assistants. Soon, they were beyond cables and were installing boards as adeptly as he.
On the day everything had been tested, and he was sure the system would work, he called everyone to Valin's desk for a demonstration. "The first thing you must do is learn how to type, but since no one else here knows how, I'm going to enter something from one of these books, and have it print on the printer."
A general "Ahh" came from the watchers, when the words he typed displayed on the screen, and another "Ahh" when the same text was printed on a sheet of paper, then someone asked, "How do we enter text in the lords' language? Its symbols look nothing like that of English."
Tommy lifted his hands from the keyboard and twisted to face his audience. "Who said that? Never mind. You're right. Damn. The demonstration is over."
Tommy went into the computer room and slumped on the floor with his back to a corner and his arms wrapped around knees. He raised his head at the sound of Valin's voice.
A Larger Universe Page 8
