Merker's Outpost

by I. Christie

  "Show me the entire planet and any other cities."

  The screen continued to revolve slowly, giving her a view of the entire planet and the underground structures of cities.

  "Show me what is habitational for my species."

  New Century City appeared in three colors, green, red, and gray. Her location on the other side of the planet was in two colors, green and gray. The green portion in New Century City covered a larger area then where she was, enclosed in a thick red barrier and then the area beyond the red was in gray.

  Hmmm. Green is livable, gray is not activated...and red is...what? Not negotiable?

  She studied the other grayed out cities. One was just a ghost of an outline as if it had been erased.

  "Give me an image of my location, with entrances and exits marked in red."

  A three-dimensional image of where she was detached itself and became a hologram. For a few moments, she studied the levels noting that the three elevators from the surface had three possible access entries onto their decks except the seventh level. The seventh level had only one elevator giving her the impression it was a secured area. Looking back at the third level, which is where the red dot was pulsating, an entire corridor from the elevator was green, and the other corridor she noted on her arrival was closed off, and gray. Therefore, she either could exit back the way she had entered the underground city, or head over to Com-C. Any other place she wished to visit would require an AEG and hers was not functioning, to say nothing of it had not being returned. It limited her options.

  I'm stuck here…unless I can get my hands on an AEG that's not faulty. Then where do I go? Lieutenant, I think it's time to check the place out and determine what options there are. And…don't forget to call home, soldier. Don't want them to think you're AWOL. Hmm. I'm sure they have communications somewhere around here.

  For a few more moments, she studied the planet frowning over a puzzle. "I wonder how I got here?" she muttered more to herself than the computer, however it answered.

  "The emergency system was activated."

  Harriet blinked at the unexpected answer. If I activated the emergency system, why did I have to find the emergency hatch myself? Besides, I was referring to being dropped from one side of this planet to here. Let me start with basic questions. "How does the emergency system get activated?"

  "When a life form that is within the influence of this planet is in danger, an alert is sent to Guardian. Guardian determines what action to take."

  Ahhh. A name. "Who is Guardian?" Influence...just what parameters does 'influence' cover?

  "Overseer of Merker's Outpost."

  "What is his or her species and location?"

  "Guardian is not a biological entity. Guardian's location is undetermined."

  Ah. A supercomputer left to care for Merker's Outpost. Not unusual.

  "What are the others doing in New Century City?"

  "I do not have that type of information."

  "Where could I get that 'type' of information?"

  "In the Command Center. It is the last room at the end of the hall." A holographic image appeared of her walking to Com-C.

  Harriet tapped her fingers on the console as she thought. I feel honored. I'm on the same floor as Com-C. This is easy…in fact too easy. If the computer is called Guardian, wouldn't it also have some form of security against unwanted occupation?

  "Does Guardian protect the outpost from hostile or unauthorized occupation?

  "Yes. For further questions on the security of this planet you will need to speak with Guardian, via communications in the Command Center."

  She would indeed. She rose from her chair and took one last sweeping glance of her oh-so comfortable quarters. As she stepped out into the hall, the lights came on indicating the direction she was to go.

  This is one new city where I don't have to worry about getting lost. I wonder what happens if I don't chose to follow the light? Another question for the computer.

  As she walked briskly towards her destination, she glanced at the continued display of paintings and sculptures, and noted the amount of rooms she passed, all with no light indicator lit to identify it was inhabited. Taking in a deeper breath, she sought to detect the usual stuffy smell that an artificially maintained habitat usually had. Nothing. It smelt clean, which indicated that the air filters were maintained.

  Either the life support systems for this place are incredible or they never turned this place down…or…I'm not the only bioform that breathes H2O in this section of the structure. So…does this mean Guardian keeps a pet. If I knew why I ended up here I'd know a little more than what I know now…which is absolutely nothing. What is Merker's Outpost these days? What did it usde to be? What could have caused this place to close completely, and so many cities, according to the global map? Maybe they were not completed cities. Maybe credits ran out to building up this planet and now… Now it could be rented out with all the amenities, but who would want to stay here? Someone running and needing to hide out? And who is taking care of the maintenance? So, maybe whoever is doing the maintenance needs supplies and the freighter is bringing them those supplies. Yeah, that could be it. New Century City looked well lived in…in one part of it anyway. Wonder what the red meant.

  She was five strides from her destination when the doors slid open with a sibilant swish. The lights came up slowly revealing a typical Com-C room. She stopped just short of entering, peering around the room cautious and curious. It was circular. Two levels. Four sets of steps up to the second level. It was handy to have two designated as up and two down so that during shift changes or when there was a general alarm, it assisted in traffic control. Screens of various sizes covered all the available wall space. From the ground floor, Harriet could see through the transparent floor the same scattering of screens on the second level. All Com-Cs in both the Collective and Committee's territories were designed pretty much the same, for both civilians and military. In the center of the room was the Command Chair. All had a command chair that exuded an energy of its own, which the person that sat in it became part of. It was an interactive connection between computer, people attending the monitoring, and the person in the chair.

  This chair doesn't feel like it's on.

  However, the hairs on the back of her neck were pricking. No alarms going off in her head, but she did feel as if she was being watched.

  You know, lieutenant, you could be imagining this feeling. But then again…this is a Com-C area and there are always security monitors…and this is where Guardian is supposed to be.

  Walking around the dais, her eyes swept across the inactive consoles and blank screens. Like everywhere else, the place was clean of dust and smells of living biological occupation. Corners were inspected and closed doors tested. Warily she looked back at the Command Chair.

  I haven't been in a Com-C since I was a cadet but I'm sure they have not changed much or someone would have said something in the rumor pipeline. That means I have to sit in that chair if I want to get the power on. Well, Harry, looks like I'm in for a new experience…one of those 'druther not' types.

  With one foot on the dais, a light on the chair came on, causing her to pause before turning around and timidly sitting in the chair. The form of the chair slowly fit to her and then… a panicky feeling sent chills along her arms and a shiver up her spine. Other than experiencing her own trepidation, nothing further happened. She let out an exasperated breath of air.

  "Now what?" she muttered irritably.

  "You must sit back," a voice near her elbow, explained.

  Lt. Montran leaped out of the chair and spun around in a low crouch to face another bot.

  Bloody moon, what is that?

  Before her was a bot stripped in brilliant colors with more appendages than she ever could image a bot would need. Her hand went automatically to where she normally had a sidearm. Nothing.

  Helgas Bloody Moon! What a time to go slack! Where in hades did that bot come from? How could I h
ave missed something that bright?

  The bot before her did not look like a few hand chops or well placed kicks would put it out of commission much less knock it off balance.

  "My name is Charles. I tend the Command Center and Guardian. To engage the chair and communicate with Guardian, you need to sit back with your head resting on the headrest. And relax. Guardian wishes to communicate with you."

  "Yeah?" she muttered. "Why don't you just relay the message?"

  The appendages gestured at the consoles, "My connection would not bring up the monitors you wish to view or give you access to the information you need."

  Now, that is a sorry explanation! And how would a bot know what I need? The image of the bed being turned back on the left side, where she normally slept if she were in a large bed, and the breakfast selection she would normally choose, came to mind. She glanced up at the chair, then the monitors, and then back at the bot. With reservation, Harriet climbed back in the chair, keeping an eye on Charles. The moment her head rested on the back of the chair, the screens came up and then the chair moved to the left giving her a view of the first row.

  Helgas Moon! This feels so weird…

  Her awareness expanded to…it was difficult to explain since she had no comparisons…however her attention became focused on the scene the first monitor displayed. Soldiers and civilians moving around live cargo crates. Because the Spartans were about, she assumed it was an official bust. Her eyes hardened as her eyes slitted in disbelief at what she was seeing.

  What's in those containers? It…they look like people. Those are! Since when have cages become the standard for detaining prisoners? Hadrie and his committee cronies would never allow something like that to become standard in law enforcement…they would have to change the whole Galaxy Charter and Commander Hailbrun would have heard of it…we would have all heard of it. Something is not right here! I knew if those idiots from Spinner's Tale were involved it would be illegal! Helgas Bloody Moon!

  As her eyes moved, the chair moved, from screen to screen, giving her scenes out of people's lives.

  I recognize a few from the freighter.

  The Spartan uniforms had their troop affiliation patch on their shoulders. There was also a group dressed in military issued AEGs weighted down with full weapons belts. Unlike Spinner's Tales' equipment, these suits were the latest in technology, though looking well used. She guessed it was the atmosphere surface side. At the thought of looking closer at the group's arm patches, the picture zoomed in focusing on the arm of one of the soldiers.

  What are they doing here? Lord Chaney's pets, the Black Rose! Are they still sponsored by him? What is going on? Is this a new Committee outpost? No, no. It was marked as privately owned. Does Lord Chaney own it? No. Committee members cannot own a planet. Is someone trying to take over this place? A part of her scolded her that she was being too cynical, but it was her cynical side that was doing it so she ignored it.

  'They are trying,' a thought came to her.

  That did not come from her. The timbre of sound and thought were way off what she was use to hearing in her head.

  "Who are you?" she asked cautiously, though suspecting it was the main computer or Guardian.

  'I am.'

  "What's that?" she asked not quite understanding.

  'I am who you think I am,' it reiterated.

  "Guardian," she affirmed.

  'Yes,' it confirmed.

  "What are all these people doing here?"

  Images flooded her mind, threatening to upset her stomach.

  "I don't quite understand," she mumbled more to herself than the computer, as her thoughts attempted to keep up, sorting and categorizing what flashed by her.

  "You mean everyone is here for different reasons?" she asked finally. She felt an affirmative.

  How would the computer know what each person's desires are unless they are hooked up to it? What did everyone do, fill out a questionnaire before landing? Or maybe sleep on a wired pillow.

  Suddenly she was alone. "Is there something wrong?" she asked guiltily. Maybe I'm being too insensitive to the computer; after all, it is an interactive system.

  An image flashed of a communication line with two calls. A question was asked of her.

  "Is any of this business legal?" she asked abruptly.

  'No.'

  "So, this is a thieves or smuggler's haven," she guessed. Images from the computer appeared as if a story was being shown her. Following an indeterminate amount of time, there came a pause.

  She pondered what Guardian had played for her. "Okay. Whatever groups they belong to, they deal in stolen goods. So who owns Merker's Outpost?" she asked puzzled.

  Before her an image of a young Copoc appeared. First dressed in a business outfit and then older looking with a lab coat on. The last image was of another person pointing a weapon at him. He collapsed to the floor with the perpetrator turning and running. The image that flashed back was of the younger version of the Copoc smiling at her.

  Harriet's breath caught in her throat as her thoughts imagined the Copoc's brain being part of the computer. "You are Guardian!"

  Harriet leaped out of the chair feeling her skin prickle with an irrational fear. The Computer or Guardian was a dead person! She had heard about experiments with the brains of some highly respected minds and some not so nice beings that had died. Commingling with someone, or something, without some sort of an idea of what she was touching - or that was touching her gave her more than shudders. There was another memory that was so far from her consciousness that only ominous pinpricks on her arms were proof that something more was bothering her about the computer connection. She stood staring at the chair at odds with herself.

  What difference does it make hooked up to a computer or a person's brain?

  A lot, her horrified self replied.

  The screens were still on. Rather than get back into the chair, she stepped closer to the screens to try to distance herself from Guardian and to regain her composure.

  Civilians were feeding the captives in the cages. In another room, a small group of soldiers and civilians were eating, sitting separate with more than space distancing them.

  Spartans and smugglers. Goes against the grain of all the subliminal indoctrination a Spartan is subjected to. Unless they aren't smugglers. Am I jumping to conclusions? What do we have here? A lot of containers in some of these rooms. Contraband? The captives in the cages. Kidnapped for ransom? It's Guardian's interpretation of their business here…why would a computer lie or mislead? So if not smugglers…then bandits? Maybe the Spartans are getting ready for an uprising on one of the planets. No. Too many civilians. So…maybe they are smugglers.

  Something nagged at the back of her mind but rather than struggle with it, she continued slowly moving along the row of screens, feeling uneasy at what she was witnessing. She needed to get word to her CO for suggestions. However, her boss was in Collective Space, this problem was in Committee Space, and she did not trust anyone in Committee Space to go to them about this discovery. Her present situation was a result in trusting Committee orders ...whom she had no allegiance to nor owed them nothing.

  So why in Helgas Moon did you willingly leave the shuttle when they presented you with Committee orders? Because, it was unexpected, they did have sidearms, there were civilians around...and, geeze. Alright… It didn't occur to me to challenge it then. I was in shell shock. Everyone on the shuttle was in shock or angry. The stop interrupted their flight schedule, which meant they might miss their connecting flights.

  Disheartened at how easy it was to waylay her, she returned her attention to the screens.

  "Who's that?" she asked Charles who quietly remained at her side. She pointed to the screen where a shadowed figure moved with purpose. Something about the figure that looked familiar. She was hoping it was not a colleague from her Spartan days, because those were the only people she knew when she lived in Committee space.

  "Maud on an assignment," Charles r
eplied.

  "Who is Maud?" Maud? I don't know any Maud. So why does she look familiar?

  "Guardian's assistant."

  "What is she doing?"

  "Guardian can tell you but you must sit in the Command Chair to communicate with Guardian."

  I don't think so. "What can you tell me about New Century City?" she asked Charles instead.

  "I only know about this part of the city, and that information is limited."

  "But you identified Maud," Harriet pointed out.

  "She visits here often."

  "Is she a bot, is she human, a besian, Guardian's rabbit…what is she? Harriet persisted.

  "She is not quite like you," Charles stated carefully.