“How did you get the Checkers working?”
“The Niseyen had them all ready to go. The WHO technical staff worked with them during their fourteen-day quarantine. Apparently every Terran virus, bacteria, parasite, fungi, rickettsiae — everything apart from conditions we share like heart failure that have internal or accidental causes. A sample of each was apparently put into the scanner of the Checker plus a sample of the cure or a written treatment. This was all possible because they were able to communicate with the ship en route around Earth and knew what was needed. I gather WHO did most of the work. It was a monumental task but it only had to be done once. Now all Checkers can be so programmed. Don’t ask me how — some things I just don’t need to know. They can send the programs to the incoming ships, and again don’t ask me how.
“It all went remarkably smoothly. The parasites were treated first by simply moving the people through the Checkers. They zap external parasites and set off an alarm at internal ones. Head lice, fleas, scabies, worms — all just zapped somehow. Anything close to the skin surface was instant. It was amazing to watch and the kids loved it. The internal ones took a bit longer to fix. Things sped up once people started coming back from the Cleaners and Checkers with new clothes. The packs made life so much better. A social worker says it’s more than the things. It’s the knowledge that people care about them, took the time and the effort. She told me gestures like that help reduce trauma. That and the promise of a new life, land, homes, jobs and better health.”
“You told them we might be attacked again?”
“That’s normal for them. Disasters, I mean, not necessarily fighting. They don’t seem to care.”
“What about feeding them all?”
“Not a problem. The camp administrators sorted that and they eat what they’re given. Breakfast and lunch is like a heavy soup in an edible cup. It’s just the usual ‘add water and stir’. Fast and easy. They vary the taste each day with different Terran spices. Dinner is spiced goop fritters with reconstituted Terran vegetables added and, for pudding, biscuits or goop donuts or fritters with Terran dried fruit. You can make biscuits out of the goop. At least we call them biscuits. Slightly different food each night. And rice, of course. Before each meal we make the cups and plates out of goop and flash bake them. A machine does it and it’s very fast. No dishes to do! And water is available all the time. It just isn’t a problem. The Okme have worked their little grey butts off, too. They have two Machines dedicated to babies and toddlers and can treat up to ten at one load. Little ones are prioritized. And females. That’s causing some problems.”
“What problems?”
“The Niseyen have an issue with how men treat women and girls. To such an extent that we gave up and left the policing to them. They got really het up about it — and they are right. So far we have nearly a hundred males locked up. Most I have agreed to expel and return to Earth.”
“What did they do?”
“Mostly rape and violence. One man killed his daughter because she refused to marry the man he picked out for her. They killed him. Now, every time a man mistreats a women, she or her friends go and tell the Niseyen. The Terran men are slow learners.”
“Ouch,” said Sarah, “I’m with the Niseyen. Imprison them and return them in shame. So it’s all work, work, work?”
“Well, no. Sort of. Many of the qualified pilots and others are getting training in different aspects of flying a spaceship from the simulators. And those are the ones that joined the crew. Some want to stay on board and be crew permanently. We’ll have heaps of pilots for all those idle planes on Torroxell.”
“Hang on, what simulators?”
“The ones pilfered from Oberterk by the Keulfyd and then seized by us. Mathew ordered a lot of them to stay on the ships once he found out what they were. We’ve been busy training both the Niseyen and us. These simulators were designed to train pilots, navigators, gunners, loaders, communicators, maintenance workers such as those tasked with the air system, the chemicals used and how to balance them, the waste and water systems etcetera. I took a loading course in one. Not the full course, but enough to find out just how complicated and vital it is that a ship is loaded correctly. Like container ships on Terra, computers are needed to get it right but they do have to be programmed with the right information. All of the right information! I didn’t have a clue how complex loading was. We’ll have to unload this ship fast. We have to get it right. Luckily, it was fast and easy to load English into the simulators. Mahmoud and his family somehow found time to load Hindi and Urdu in as well. Thank God they did. It’s made communication so much better.”
“Oh yes,” said Sarah, “they borrowed my dictionary, I remember. They simply went through it, substituting Hindi and Urdu equivalents for the English words.”
“Discs the size of a shirt button held those three languages,” said Steve. “I wonder how many languages they can hold. Anyway, Jolene and I went from simulator to simulator, loading the languages. The Niseyen crew told me that due to multiple languages and different ships and models, plus the cost of training, this is the most efficient learning system so long someone is motivated to learn in a self-directed manner. The walls and ceilings on the simulators can telescope in and out to fit different-sized occupants, so we were able to pack a lot of simulators in. I’ve learned piloting too, as has Jolene. There wasn’t much else for us to do on the trip to Earth because we didn’t know how to do anything helpful except prepare and deliver food to our overworked, insufficient crew. That was my first job, teaching the camp cooks how to use all the equipment and cook the meals.”
“You must have been up twenty-four hours a day.”
“That’s another thing. The psychologists have told us to keep slowly lengthening the day so we are running on Torroxell time and length of day by the time we get there.”
“That’s an excellent idea! That’ll save them all the jet lag we got.”
“Yes,” Steve agreed. “But thank heavens Mathew directed that many simulators were to stay on board. They’re in constant use. The only drawback is that we would still have to sit exams to get actual, legal qualifications. Still, Torroxell doesn’t care, Terra doesn’t care and the simulators have declared us competent.” He paused for breath, then asked, “What’s the situation with you?”
“We’re struggling,” Sarah confessed. “So much needing to be done and so few to do it. Even trying to ensure all the animals were fed was a nightmare until Bella and Bea organized the Cats to take over that task. They let the surviving birds and some smaller animals and reptiles go. Don’t know if they’ll make it, but the Priskya agreed.
“The bigger zoo creatures were the main problem, plus the farm animals that needed imported food. Helkmid arranged for a small breeding population of each variety of farm animal, and the rest were processed or frozen for food. The Cats couldn’t get near most of the farm animals but they didn’t seem to mind us. Some we let go, all that could eat the local food. I just hope we’re not creating a problem for the future like a rabbit plague, but we’re just muddling on the best way we can. We will replace the farm animals with Terran stock if they can survive here.
“The Priskya are fishing for us every day and we are helping them with those horrible parasites. Your twenty-five thousand will be so welcome and the Niseyen are proving very useful and resourceful. They solved the problem of those five hundred survivors — it took them less than a day. Then they took four Flying Fortresses to Terra so if they can pick up a similar number to you we will be doing a lot better. Apparently a lot of Niseyen are bringing passenger ships. Helene is on her way back from Petislay with a full load of Niseyen who can run the infrastructure and others who want to settle. Helkmid tells me a lot of Okme are on their way too, ones who can run the infrastructure. We aim to soon have all the cities up and running.”
“How many are coming?”
“Thousands. It looks like hundreds of thousands. But we can take millions and we have the food in
the goop, supplemented by fish. The Zeobani have found fruit, nut-like things, sea plants and some plants in the rivers that are chockful of minerals and vitamins. They somehow concentrate the minerals. They were imported from a Ridianit planet and were released here at the insistence of the Priskya. I’d guess they were for the Cats. We’re growing them in the streams nearby. The Zeobani transplanted them. They love gardening and know how to propagate. They all taste nice and we make goop fritters with them. The supplement plants are sort of salty. We add them to the goop a lot. They make yummy fish batter. The cooks are trying to vary the flavor of the fish batter, but I miss crumbed fish!”
Steve laughed. “Me too. I’d better go. More work to do.”
Chapter Fourteen
On the Audacity, the day before the hugely anticipated press interview on the Defiance, Mathew entered the control room, the boxes on a trolley. Two each. Every Niseyen slave, as ordered, was in the control room. Mathew took a deep breath. They would not be expecting this! They didn’t deserve it but Mathew had been talking to his father who told him not to judge them too harshly. Death is difficult to accept, he had said.
Mathew addressed them. “The agreement we had is no longer practical so I have made a decision. As of now, you are no longer slaves. To put it bluntly, we need you too much and that is my main consideration — our need. What you did will remain a secret, for many reasons. Tell anyone who asks that you were working on Torroxell as ship’s crew and escaped the gassing. I suggest you make up different, plausible stories. It will be a very bad introduction for our Races if they find out what you did, so it is better not to tell. And we need you all over the ship, helping and advising. The ship needs to be loaded properly and, I assume, the load balanced. Get dressed. Two boxes each.” He walked out.
The Niseyen were stunned. None had expected that. The nearest reached out and opened a box. Quickly, he dressed. The sight of him in clothes galvanized the others and suddenly there was a stampede. Some were humbled by receiving their packs. Some had never really accepted their guilt and thought this was their due.
Ineddis opened his box. The clothes fitted, were familiar in shape if not material, and he easily figured out where each item went. Moccasin-like shoes were included to fit his oversized feet. He reached for a second box. They all did some swapping as they exchanged to get better-fitting sizes. Within a few minutes, all were organized and the excess goods were stowed. Best of all, they now knew their secret was to be kept. The refugees did not know that they had been some of those who flew the gas ships for the Keulfyd, the job Aswin and Kaswa Celon had refused to do, becoming slaves instead. They had all had their inoculations and their quarantine ended today. They could now leave the control room and its adjoining cabins and walk through the ship. They could look at the women and the children. So many children.
On the Defiance, the same decision had been taken earlier. As Steve told Sarah, “It isn’t practical to keep them enslaved and unclothed. It would be a political and public relations disaster to tell the world what they have done. And we didn’t like slavery. To Joline and to me especially, it had a worse taste than imprisonment. So we all simply decided not to tell. And to end their slavery.”
“Well, I’m not pleased,” said Sarah, “but I delegated the job to you three. You are there and I’m not, so it’s your decision to make. And I do appreciate the public relations bit.”
Back on Terra, at the British Consulate, Jolene had contacted her family, organized a temporary passport, sold her story, financed her trip home to New Zealand, and booked a flight via Melbourne, Australia so she didn’t need a visa. But she had too much time to think. She felt more and more regretful that she had returned to Terra. She felt like a deserter. She had so wanted to run the spaceport! But she missed her kids. And she had the painful job of explaining to Hine’s family that Mummy wasn’t coming home. No one had seen Hine since the first day of the gassing and Jolene hadn’t known where she was. Helping Jane to organize the online auction for the onboard media interview exclusive was a helpful distraction, not to mention lots of fun.
On time, seven days after leaving Bangladesh, the Defiance left Terra for Torroxell. A month later, Steve was called to the control room. He entered to see Mathew on the screen.
“Hi Steve. I know Audacity was supposed to follow as soon as possible but we were held up by funding, then supplies, then bitching as to who was going to pay for what. We haven’t left yet but we expect to next week. Sorry. Nothing I could do about it.”
“Huh. Much trouble from politics or media?”
“Media have been pretty good. They’ve been at some of the corporations and made mincemeat out of some of the grandstanders among the politicians. It gave me time to get a fair load of military personnel, though,” he chuckled, “even if some hate each other. I’ve got a lot of mercenaries from areas of big unemployment. I wanted families with them so that made for a lot of keen volunteers. I also picked mostly older mercs, military and cops, due for retirement soon. They’ll make good settlers. And I’ve picked up a fair load of military supplies. The consensus seems to be we need to hold Torroxell. I told them we will have to fight for it so I finally got my supplies. I thought it was better to leave with what we need rather than arrive on time but not with anything useful.”
“Have you got the Priskya supplies?”
“Yes. A factory that can make the subs is being dismantled to come with us, plus many of the workers are coming with it. It was an agricultural machinery factory and had closed down. They say they can convert it. That was another delay. It seemed wiser to wait for it. We’re bringing raw materials with us but we’re going to have to develop mining on Torroxell, so we’re bringing miners and their equipment too. And their families.”
“That’s excellent! You’ve thought of everything.”
“No, my father and a group of his friends did.”
“But, Mathew, why did you want retirement-age people? We need young ones.”
“Military retirement age, you idiot! They’re late thirties to early forties. Young enough to fight and old enough to make good settlers. Good age to settle down and raise kids and crops, and that’s what we want.”
“Oh. So you’re leaving next week?”
“Should be. Keep in touch.”
Chapter Fifteen
Cukudeopul still had not heard from his force at Torroxell. He was now very annoyed. He ordered contact with the flagship, direct to Lijfomid. Several hours later, Lijfomid had still not answered. He had a personal communicator linked into the ship’s one. He had better have a good excuse! Dead would do. Cukudeopul waited all day but the message was not answered. Both angry and worried, he wondered what to do. He was told Kumenoprix had asked to see him but he said not today. He was too irritable to listen, and it wasn’t his health he was worried about.
It was to be another four days before he heard a rumour that a pirate attack force had been defeated at Torroxell. He was stunned. How could this have happened? The source of the report was Keulfyd Military. Some of the military were aware of the actions and source of the pirates, but very few. None was aware of the Master Plan.
When the full report came, Kumenoprix was with security ready to have his usual race to solve the puzzle. But the security chief asked him to leave, saying something was urgent. She ran the report through the decipher program and handed it to Cukudeopul. Cukudeopul read that the twenty-nine troopships that had transported 650,000 of the slaves, mostly from Oberterk to Torroxell, had reported the mission was going well and had then loaded up with booty and left. One ship was on its way here and the others had scattered as planned. When they left, all was proceeding as normal but then they received a message telling them that two Races on Torroxell reported a lot of sickness,one being Keulfyd. The last few communications mentioned biological warfare against not only the Keulfyd but also another five Races: the Bidifix, Sasgys, Vubicik, Opodskell, and Trydshell. A large percentage of each Race were getting very sick and the doctors
were definite that it was biological warfare because the bugs had all been altered in one or more ways to make them worse. In other words, the bugs had been weaponized!
The last communication had been sent five days ago, the day the attack was scheduled to begin on the survivors. It had taken three days for the message to get here because it was elaborately encrypted and, as instructed, rerouted from another ship outside the area so its point of origin could not be traced: Cukudeopul must never risk being connected with the pirates. It named an old virus thought to have been eliminated centuries ago.
Cukudeopul remembered it clearly. It had killed a lot of his people every winter before climate control stopped winter and thereby reduced the susceptibility to it — and then inoculation finished it off. He had had it himself and been quite ill. He read that the virus was now altered in three ways: it was more infectious, transmission was now airborne, and it was much more serious. It was also appearing to worsen with each generation. Cukudeopul was stumped. He ordered his physicians and Kumenoprix to come.
Kumenoprix brought his research, thinking Cukudeopul wanted his long-delayed report, and was startled to find out this was not the case. All the senior medical staff were there and a full security shift. They all looked grim.
Kumenoprix was handed the part of the report concerning just the diseases. He was given a minute or two to read it, then Cukudeopul asked, “Could an Okme have altered these diseases?”
“Yes.” Surprisd at the suspicious reaction he got, he added, “if you know how to cure or prevent or weaken a disease you automatically know how to do the reverse. But this is not allowed.”
“But it could be done?”
“Yes.”
“Would you know how to do this?”
Alien Backlash Page 15
