There were groans from several of the women, and one or two gasps from those who hadn’t realised the severity of the situation until now. Hunter scanned the room. Slumped shoulders and bowed heads everywhere she looked. This wouldn’t do. She rapped her knuckles sharply on the desk.
“No despair, please. We’ve had a setback today, but we’re not beaten yet. The KSD’s still operational, the ship’s still in one piece, and we’ve got our hearts and minds to guide us. Now, moving forwards is no longer practical, but there’s two other options that suggest themselves to me. Firstly, we can -”
“Wait.” It was Barbara Young, who had spoken. The gardener brushed at her dark hair with a hand that trembled slightly. “If we make twenty jumps in the direction of home, how far will that get us?”
Hunter considered briefly. “If we go by the most direct route, somewhere in the Carina-Sagittarius Arm, I would think.”
“Right. GSEC have run research missions in that arm in the past. They will again. We could go there, try to make contact…”
The captain was shaking her head. “That’s not practical.”
“It is! They run two or three of those missions a year. Don’t dismiss it because you’re afraid of asking GSEC to bail us out.”
Hunter frowned. “If I thought it would help this crew, I’d gladly get down on my hands and knees and beg. Pride isn’t the obstacle, scale is. Sagittarius may be a minor arm, but the astronomical phenomena that might interest GSEC still number in the hundreds of millions, and the most recent programme of their activities we have in our archive is years out of date. We’ve no way of knowing where to meet them.”
Barbara lowered her gaze in defeat but couldn’t entirely let go of her plan. “We could work out a way to signal them at distance,” she muttered. “There must be something we can do.”
The captain shook her head slowly. “As much confidence as I might have in the resourcefulness of our science team, you’re asking them to improvise a gigantic leap forward in interstellar communications technology using only the limited equipment we have on board.” She turned to Sandra Rivers. “Right, Professor?”
The science head nodded. ‘It can’t be done,’ she stated simply.
Barbara’s whole body sagged; Hunter’s face softened as she looked at the distraught woman.
“Look, I understand. It’s a psychological hurdle, turning the ship around and moving further away from home. But there’s hope that way, real hope. As I said, we’ve got two possibilities. Firstly, we can try and return to Mahi Mata.” This proposal prompted more than a few expressions of surprise, so she elucidated. “Remember, Vitana once created teleportation machinery, which spontaneously transported millions of Matans to planets light years away from their homeworld. We don’t know the extent of Vitana’s power. Could it do the same for us? Could it send us all the way home? We have its daughter aboard, so it may be in the mood to do us a rather large favour.”
Rivers looked doubtful. “The last we saw of Mahi Mata, it was surrounded by Legan ships. They’re hardly likely to let us by, and we’re in no position to fight our way past them.”
“Vitana may be able to help. Chamonix, are you hearing this?”
The cool tones of the hybrid emerged from the intercom. “Yes, Captain.”
“Does the idea sound viable to you?”
“Regrettably, no. There are various issues. Firstly, I’m not sure that I can communicate with my third parent if I’m not in physical contact with it. My link with Vitana went dead – to my perceptions, at least – as soon as we left the planet’s surface. Secondly, I don’t believe Vitana has any power over the Legan ships; it has weaponry that can destroy them if they enter orbit, but they know better than to do that. Thirdly, and most importantly, Vitana could only send us to planets it, itself, has previously gone to.”
“Can you be sure of that?”
“I believe so. The memories I inherited from Vitana were weak and unreliable, but we did communicate a little before I left the surface, specifically on the subject of the Matan exodus. They were all sent to planets it had visited in its long life, and it never went near Earth.
“The best you could hope for if you return to Mahi Mata is to be allowed to live out your natural lives on the surface.”
None of the gathering looked thrilled at the prospect.
“I vote no to that,” said Costa. “It was a nice enough planet, when it wasn’t holding us prisoner or swallowing crew members, but those cyborgs beneath the surface gave me the creeps. And, stop me if I sound shallow, but I’d like to see some men again – human men, that is – before I die. There’d be none of them, and we’ve no material for making children either.”
“Ain’t that just always the way?” said Annie, with jarring flippancy. “The one time you need frozen sperm samples is the one time you leave home without ‘em.”
Barbara’s head snapped up. “What? How can you joke at a time like this? We’re never going to see Earth again, you preening, juvenile little -”
“Because I’ve worked out what the captain’s other option is – least, I think I have – and it’s a good one, if she’s thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’…”
Hunter nodded gratefully. She wasn’t sure whether Annie’s show of optimism was an act or not, but it had achieved its desired effect: some of the oppressive sense of gloom had lifted from the gathering. Eyes were turning expectantly towards the captain.
“Thank you. Option two is to look for help elsewhere – namely, from the other Matan colonies. The data we recovered from the Legan scout’s ship included star charts, and those charts gave six planets special prominence: Lega, and five others. The only firm data we have on them are their names, but we can be fairly confident that they are the worlds colonised during the forced exodus of Mahi Mata.”
Barbara was unimpressed. “So what? They’ll try and hack us to bits just like the Legans.”
Hunter frowned. Barbara’s discipline had been erratic ever since their troubles started. She was surprised, as the gardener had spent more time in space than almost anyone else aboard, but it was always hard to know who would snap first when the pressure was on.
The captain caught the eye of Wanda Little, responsible for the psychiatric care of the crew. The doctor nodded slightly in acknowledgement. Time to book a session with Barbara.
“There’s no reason to believe that any race other than the Legans will be hostile to us,” the captain explained. “Remember, each colony has seen centuries of independent growth. They’re not one people anymore; each world will have its own identity, rivalries will have sprung up. I can’t see any reason why we shouldn’t be able to start on each new colony with a clean slate.”
“We can’t be sure,” said Costa. “Didn’t the Legan captain imply that teleportation is still possible between the six colonies?”
“True,” conceded Hunter, “and they may well have heard the story of what happened. But will they care? Remember, the Legans are the descendants of Matans who swore vengeance on Vitana. That vendetta’s shaped their society ever since then, and it’s the only reason we wound up fighting them; Captain Chiri expressed serious regret that it came to that.
“The other colonies won’t have the same hatred for their former god. Diplomacy can work this time.”
“Right!” said Annie excitably. “And with their technology, you can bet they’ll be able to fix up our KSD or give us whatever their equivalent is. Bang! They’ll zap us back home in double quick time.”
The captain raised a restraining hand. There was such a thing as too much optimism. “Let’s not assume that. It’s true that the Legans were ahead of us in some areas – anti-gravity technology, etcetera – but they and the other colonies may be behind us in others. Still, we won’t know until we ask. At the very least, they may be able to help us with our repairs.
“So, my proposal is to set a course for the nearest of the five other planets. They’re all located here, in the Centaurus Arm, so we shouldn’t have to tax the KSD
too much. Are there any objections, or other suggestions?”
Silence. Her gaze swept over the room. She saw anticipation on only a handful of faces, but several more showed at least the glimmerings of hope. Several crew members, of course, hated the idea of heading into potentially hostile space; Barbara, in particular, looked as though she desperately wanted to oppose the plan, but simply couldn’t think of either a reasonable objection or a rational alternative.
“Then it’s decided: we turn the Bona Dea around and head for the nearest colony – I believe it’s called Ramira. But make no mistake, our final destination is still Earth. We’re just taking the scenic route…”
V
Summary of research into scientific mysteries uncovered on Mahi Mata
Compiled by Professor Sandra Rivers, BA(Hons), PhD
1 Legan anti-gravity
The three crew members who boarded the globular Legan scout ship (M. Hunter, A. Grace, I. Jones) reported the existence of advanced gravity-manipulating technology. I have spoken with each of these crew members, and their accounts are consistent.
Within the craft, there was a smaller globe, on which one could walk freely. However, the inside of the outer globe was also designed for habitation; by the use of ladders, one could shift from one surface to the other, floor becoming ceiling and vice versa. Both surfaces appear to have created a consistent field of gravity up to a distance of approximately two meters, with a small zero-gravity buffer space in the middle. The vessel had landed on the surface of Mahi Mata, yet no gravitational pull was felt from the planet while inside the ship.
Our own gravitomagnetic field generation technology is quite incapable of cancelling out or reducing the potency of a source of gravity. Thus, we must postulate that the Legans use a wholly different technique.
When the larger Legan ship was destroyed and drawn beneath the surface, fragments remained above ground. We took some of these aboard our vessel for study.
Please see Appendix A for a complete breakdown of salvaged material. We have found numerous points of interest, but they shed little light upon the source of the anti-gravity. A vast number of minute superconducting discs appear to have been spread throughout the hull at regular intervals, each being housed in a globular pocket. While this find brings to mind theories from certain members of our own planet’s scientific community (see references), tests based on rotating superconductors have never shown positive results under laboratory conditions.
At this time, we can draw no firm conclusions.
2 The hybrid organism
The entity known as Chamonix appears to have been formed by the fusion of head technician F. Cartwright and Anthropomorphised Carnal Machine #4, one of a quartet of robots aboard, purchased from Pinocchio Robotics shortly before our ship left the Earth. They are all from the Valentine range, newly released when we departed. See Appendix B for the model’s specifications.
The hybrid states that it is also composed of elements of the entity Vitana, which resides within Mahi Mata. While no crew member observed the creation of the hybrid, this claim appears plausible given the powers the creature has displayed.
It has the ability to cause metamorphoses, much like those we saw affecting our ship while we were on the planet, although the hybrid, at present, has limited control over said ability.
One potentially positive aspect of the captain’s decision to grant the hybrid passage is that we may now witness this process in action. While it is transforming matter, the creature exudes the same moisture we have seen before (see Appendix C for chemical analysis of this liquid). The substance originates in vacuoles, which appear in approximately 12% of the hybrid’s cells.
My theory that this “sap” transports more complex structures has yet to be substantiated. It may, of course, be the case that our equipment lacks the sophistication necessary to detect the cause.
At this time, we can draw no firm conclusions.
Sandra Rivers frowned as she scanned the report on her computer screen. Beneath the scientific veneer, it read as a flat admission of failure. She took no consolation from the maxim that admitting one’s ignorance was the beginning of wisdom. Here were a pair of mysteries – her job was to provide explanations.
Shutting off the monitor, Rivers surveyed her surroundings with little interest. Usually, she enjoyed the view from the laminated glass cubicle that served as her office. It was tucked into a corner of the cavernous science lab: twenty metres wide and five high, but as long as a football field. A forest of state-of-the-art equipment and lab benches stretched before her, while through an archway to her right, the Bona Dea’s vast water tanks gurgled merrily. Bala Abayomi, making her regular checks of tank integrity, passed briefly through Rivers’ field of vision.
It was the second of the two mysteries that was particularly aggravating. The question of anti-gravity seemed, at least, to be based upon the science she knew. In time, she could hope to understand the technology employed.
Chamonix’s powers, on the other hand, appeared to be little short of magic. Analysing the process, she felt like a medieval scientist struggling to comprehend the operation of a particle accelerator. Sap flowed from the hybrid’s pores, and what it touched was transformed; flesh became metal, metal twisted into the shape of flesh, with no evidence as to why.
Abracadabra.
Chamonix had also been far from helpful, which was a further annoyance. While it claimed to be slowly mastering its powers, it could offer no explanation as to how they worked. It thought about the shape it wanted its environment to take and, very slowly, that vision came to pass.
Rivers had been one of those who’d spoken out against allowing the hybrid on board. The argument that they were honouring Flora Cartwright’s sacrifice by allowing her ‘daughter’ to live amongst them did not sway her. If Rivers herself had given up her life to save her friends, she would not have wanted those same friends to risk their own lives by gambling on the behaviour of a creature more than capable of killing them all.
But the captain had opted to disregard her advice. Again.
Hunter had proven a disappointment as a leader. Rivers had heard nothing but good things about the noted feminist and businesswoman beforehand. Indeed, the prospect of serving under her had been a major motivating factor when the young scientist had applied for a position aboard. Unfortunately, there was a galaxy of difference between running an enterprise within the familiar, and relatively safe, surroundings of human-colonised space and leading a desperate battle for survival light years from any help.
Of course, Rivers didn’t expect her every suggestion to be followed without question, but Hunter’s decisions appeared to spring from a fundamentally flawed premise: that acting in line with lofty ideals was more important than getting her ship and crew safely home. So far, that attitude hadn’t proven too costly. The captain’s policy of quantity over quality during the exploration phase of their journey had led them to Mahi Mata. Her decision not to try and break away from that planet when it held them prisoners had been correct, if Chamonix was to be believed. Did the ends justify the means?
No. They had been lucky … and luck was a treacherous friend, stealing tomorrow what it gave today.
How many more of Miriam Hunter’s errors must I tolerate before I take action for the greater good?
And what should that action be?
* * *
“Okay,” said Annie. “I reckon you should be back in the land of the living. Or the land of the switched on, at least. How you feelin’?”
“I feel fine, thank you,” said Salomon. He might have responded that his CPU appeared to have been rewired correctly, that the data stored in his memory and personality chips had not been compromised, and that he was physically within factory specifications, barring superficial cranial damage. But that wouldn’t have been a very biological thing to say.
Salomon, like his brothers, had been built to look and act more human than humans themselves.
“Thanks accepted
,” said Annie with a grin. “I’ve earned ‘em. Been slaving for weeks, on and off, booting your android butt back into gear.”
“Has it been weeks? And did we lose Ms. Cartwright during the battle? She usually handled ACM repairs.”
“Ah, guess I need to fill you in a bit…” Annie proceeded to give a condensed account of recent events, starting from the skirmish where Salomon had picked up the robotic equivalent of a concussion, and ending with the decision to head back towards the Matan colonies.
“We’re about halfway there,” she concluded. “It was five KSD leaps, and we’re prepping for number 3 right now. Ten days between jumps. Planet’s called Ramira, but that’s all we know about it. Pretty darn exciting, huh?”
“Indeed,” remarked Salomon, looking thoroughly unexcited. “Might I ask today’s date?”
“What? Oh … March 1st, I think. Yeah.”
“One hundred and two days.” A curious expression had stolen over the robot’s face. Introspective, Annie might have called it.
“What about them?”
“I was deactivated for one hundred and two days, and I didn’t feel them at all. Humans can feel the passage of time while unconscious, can you not?”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Annie, more than a little confused by the turn the conversation was taking. “I mean, I ain’t never been put in a coma, but it’s like that when we sleep.”
“I experienced no sense of time at all. That had always been the case when I was deactivated between visits from crew members, of course, but I had thought that a longer spell might be different. Incorrect.
“I was grappling with a Legan warrior. I heard heavy footfalls behind me, the rush of air as a weapon was swung. Then I was here. From my perspective, the transition was instantaneous.
“What a hollow existence I have, that it can be stopped and started with such simplicity and precision. Charlie once told me he had come to believe we robots were alive, even as you women are. Yet we are the merest echo next to you. What meaning can our life and death have for us, when we move so inconsequentially between the two states?”
Amygdala Page 5
