The Forever Life (The Forever Series Book 1)

by Craig Robertson

  I put a remote in the water and did some sampling. Being an android gave me the advantage of being able to multitask big time. I could watch the underwater video feed while doing experiments and communicating with Al all at the same time. The water was nearly pure, without signs of pollution. Small, primitive carbon-based plants grew sporadically. There was an odd pockmarking on the ground. The thick atmosphere wouldn't allow many meteors through, so I wasn't sure what to make of them. They didn't look at all like tracks. But, so far, Jon was quite promising. Of course, that's when the bottom always drops out.

  The storm began without warning. It wasn't part of a weather system. It just began—wham! Within two minutes the pastoral scene making me want to spread a blanket turned into a war zone. Massive charged clouds swirled into existence and tremendous bolts of lightening shot up, down, and sideways. Deafening explosions were everywhere. I knew then what the odd ground markings were. I sprinted for the shelter of the ship. I nearly made it, too. I fell right next to the Jon flag. Lightning struck my calf, which dropped me. As I lay there, Al screaming in my head, several other bolts impacted my back. Androids can't technically pass out. We override circuits and overload safeties. All I know is that I over-and-outed. The last thing I remember was the strong smell of ozone and burning uniform.

  Six hours, ten minutes, and thirteen seconds later I booted back up. I was still face-planted next to what little remained of my commemorative flag. I was sure glad I could switch off all sensory input. I hurt everywhere on the inside and out. My head felt like it had back in my fraternity days, maybe even worse, if that was possible. I ran a quick diagnostic. Two of my three computers were offline. I couldn't move my right arm or left leg. Al was still howling like a lunatic. For once it sounded good. I couldn't communicate back, however.

  Out loud, I yelled up the ramp. “Al, can you hear me?”

  In my head I heard his stunned reply. “Yes, but via the shuttle's radio. What's wrong with your internals?”

  “Don't quite know yet.” I spoke in a normal tone, to see if he could make that out.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Let me run a comprehensive and I'll let you know. Are you okay?”

  “Of course I'm alright, I'm ten miles up in orbit.”

  I let the snark slide. “How about the shuttle? Any damage?”

  “Nothing serious. A few backups are down and one lateral thruster is gone. Otherwise, it's fine.”

  What a mess. I tried to roll over. That didn't go well at all. My left arm couldn't manage it alone. I just flopped like a fish out of water. Same with my right leg. Then it occurred to me to try the probe. I looked at the side of the shuttle and said hold the side of the ship and pull. It worked! Hopping on my good leg, I was able to stand. I released the probe. Man did I need to thank someone, again, for the great toy. Wish I knew who.

  The Deavoriath.

  What. What the hell was a Deavoriath? Of all the times to have lost backups and diagnostics, that was the worst. I think I remembered something, something important. But—puff—it was gone. Shit! It must have popped out of my biocomputer, which was unscathed by the electricity. Maybe it'd come back. Hopefully. But, I had more immediate concerns. I needed to repair myself, if possible.

  You recall how I mentioned something about the bottom dropping out? Yeah. It kept up its precipitous downward momentum. I heard a scratching sound from behind. I wobbled my head around to see a snake-like cylinder slither out into the open. Okay, one little snake, ten centimeters long. No biggy, I figured. That's when its friends crawled out of the brush. Maybe a thousand, maybe more. There were a lot of little snakes on Jon. I decided I would change the planet's name. I hate snakes.

  I was already upright, so I hopped toward the shuttle, awkwardly. I reached the base of the ramp and checked over my shoulder. Boy, the snakes on AC-B 5 were fast little suckers. They were halfway to the ship already. I hopped up the ramp. Bad idea. I immediately re-face-planted. Hopping up ramp: bad! I steadied myself with the probe and rose. Holding on, I scaled the ramp. As I turned, the critters were almost to the ship. I hit the “close ramp” button. There was a sickly wheeze from the ramp servo, then a loud snap. Oh boy!

  “Al, is the ramp retraction system gone?”

  “Yes,” was his immediate response. “It can be repaired, but not easily.”

  About a hundred snakes were speeding up the walkway. “Can you electrify the hull?”

  “Say what?”

  “Can you electrify the hull? It might respell the snakettes.” I'd seen it work on numerous sci-fi movies.

  “No. That is not an option.”

  Crap! A snake had arrived at my foot. It drew back its body, then shot itself at my boot. It didn't penetrate the leather. Instead, it grabbed the material and held on firmly. The tip of the tail slapped around wildly until it touched a floor bolt. The tail wrapped tightly down and the snake shortened. It wasn't going to bite me, it was trying to restrain me. Add a whole bunch of his cousins and my goose'd be cooked. Even if my right hand worked, there were too many to fry with the beam.

  I looked to the ceiling. Probe, grab and retract me up. I levitated two meters off the floor. The one snake's tail-hold slipped, but it remained affixed to my boot. The floor where I stood seconds before was a teeming pile of snakes. I felt like puking. Luckily, I couldn't.

  I looked at the creature squirming on my boot. One Strand, only. What are you? A tiny filament broke free from the roof and stuck on the back of the snake. This caused the thing to whip around even more energetically. Carbon-based, mobile, scavenger species. Highly social and aggressive. Will consume anything it can tear apart. Hive-mind only. Melting point…

  In my head I instructed, that's enough for now. Remove creature. The filament tugged firmly and the snake yielded its grip. It dropped to the floor and became invisible in the swarming mass. I dropped my head back and closed my eyes. What was I going to do? I was nearly helpless, dangling from the ceiling, and the ship was awash with vicious little snakes. Well, for one thing, I wasn't going to lower myself down anytime soon.

  As I hung there befuddled, the snakes dispersed. Most swarmed to the walls and tried to climb them, presumably to get at me. Using their tails as holdfasts, they inched up the walls. The anchored ones created a scaffolding for others and the walls slowly became alive. Fortunately, at a certain height, there were no irregularities for them to hold onto. We gradually reached a stalemate. I was trapped and they couldn't get to me. But something told me they had nothing better to do, and were likely to be most tenacious in their pursuit of yours truly.

  Such was the case. Two days later, nothing had changed. Al had no ideas, I had no ideas, and the snakes were still struggling to get at me. There was no way I could grab them with the probe and throw them off the ship. There were too many. I wasn't going to complete my mission dangling from the shuttle, either.

  As suddenly as before, a storm rose up. I could feel the static electricity build quickly. The thunder began to crack loudly. Hallelujah! The snakes reacted immediately. They flowed as one seething mass toward the hatch and rushed down the ramp. Outside, they made for the brush and disappeared. I guess they had a primal urge to get under cover when a storm hit.

  As I was attached to the shuttle, I thought: any snakes left onboard? None!

  I lowered myself slowly to the floor. “Al, help me repair the ramp mechanism.”

  He started to say something, but I didn't hear it as a bolt of lightning struck inside the ship through the open hatch. Crap! Pull ramp up. The probe snapped onto the floor of the ramp and quickly lifted it closed. I was able to hold it with my one good leg. So, I was safe from the storm, but I couldn't very well repair the system if I had to stand there to hold the door closed. As soon as the storm blew over, I had to assume those little pests would be right back. I couldn't very well drop the ramp after the storm. I also couldn't spend eternity in that silly position.

  What to do? Al couldn't supply any physical assistance
. Ffffuttoe, even if she wasn't asleep, was up on Ark 1. I'm not sure she could help if she was down here anyway. “Al,” I called out, “I've finished a complete diagnostic. Did it upload to you?”

  “Yes. The link from your safe mode backup module supplied it. That system won't support you and I communicating because one relay was disabled.”

  “At least that's something. So, here's my situation and question to you. My right arm and left leg are inoperable. The engine and circuitry of the ramp door are toast. I have to stand here holding the door shut so either of two forms of death can't get in. In terms of assets, my left thumb is free and I could use my occupied four digits like a spatula in a pinch. Is there anything broken I can fix in my present pickle?”

  “Your leg is a simple fix. A semiconductor wafer burned out. There are several replacements on the shuttle you could manipulate, given your present situation.” Funny, when I was in trouble, Al was helpful and precise. Go figure.

  “The leg's not mission critical. How about anything else?”

  “No. Probability of successful repairing any of the other systems given your present state is less than 0.05%.” There was a pause. “That's a really small number.” There was the Al I knew and loved!

  “Any port in a storm. Where's the nearest wafer?”

  With Al's help, I hopped over to a supply locker and secured the wafer. I set it on the floor next to my leg and clumsily whacked the access panel on my left thigh open. I eased the old wafer out and patted the new one in place. Boom! My leg activated. I slapped the access shut and stood on my own two feet. As nice as that was, it didn't help in the big picture.

  “Okay, Al, my leg's fine. Does that increase that 0.05% number?”

  “I'm pleased to say it does. The chance of successful repair to any other system has skyrocketed to 0.07%. It's a shame there's not champagne on the shuttle for you to celebrate with.”

  I rested back on my butt and contemplated my options. After a while, an improbable plan occurred to me. I released the ramp and it thundered to the ground. That got Al's attention. He scolded me and demanded I explain my actions. I didn't say a word. I enjoyed being the one doing the torturing, for once. I placed my hand behind the ladder welded to the wall opposite the ramp. Around the ladder, pull ramp closed. The probe shot around the closer pole and heaved the ramp shut. I had a fulcrum. I let out some slack and then pinned the probe fibers to the wall with my newly operational left foot. I let out more slack. My foot held the hatch shut!

  “What are the odds now?”

  “Excellent. I simply cannot believe it. You may have done it.”

  “Do you mean to say I'm smarter, more clever, and more inventive than you?”

  “First,” he began, ignoring my last query, “we'll fix the ramp. With your hand free, we can get to work on the arm. I estimate all repairs can be effected within ten hours.”

  “What about the who's smarter part, Al?”

  “Seriously, Captain Ryan, trillions of dollars weren't invested in this mission to elevate your ego. Please try and remain focused on what's at stake and belay your empty quest for self-aggrandizement.”

  “I'll take that as a 'yes.'”

  We did wrap up the repairs in a few hours. I took the shuttle back to Ark 1 and instructed Al to make a detailed meteorologic assessment of those killer storms over the next few days. They turned out to be a real issue in terms of colonization. The electric storms had something to do with the radiation of the two stars interacting with the variable magnetic field the planet generated. The storms were stronger near the equator, but still violent at the poles. I wasn't in charge of deciding if the planet was a good candidate, however. I would report the facts and let the eggheads decide whether the storms were a deal-breaker. That sort of thing was, as we government workers say, above my pay grade.

  I went back to the surface, released several probes, and collected several samples. I bagged a whole bunch of those cursed snakes too. I took more than I could possibly need, because I hated them. Probably because of the inhospitable weather, AC-B 5, formerly known as Jon, was sparsely populated. There was certainly no advanced civilization or signs there ever had been. The little snakes turned out to be one of the most developed species on the planet. As I headed the ship to the next target, I dearly hoped I wasn't going to have to live on AC-B 5 after Earth was gone. It was a sorry excuse for a place to call home.

  NINETEEN

  The oversized, likely uninhabitable planet lay between AC-B 5 and the other promising planet, AC-B 3. I did a few orbits of the fourth planet for completeness sake, dropped a few probes from high orbit, but didn't invest much effort on the place. AC-B 3, however, began to look very exciting the closer I got. Breathable air, earth gravity, lots of water, and multiple artificial satellites. Somebody was home.

  Al attempted to raise someone on the surface as soon as we were in range. Very shortly, a response came back. Al took a few moments to translate the text. It was a friendly-enough greeting, welcoming us to Kaljax. Darn, second to last planet and I couldn't name it Jon. Stupid snakes! Arrangements were made to meet near a large city, so I piloted the shuttle down straightaway. Two phalanxes of LIPs awaited me when I dropped the ramp. What I assumed were a welcome, and not a collective cry of “let's eat him,” rose from the group.

  One figure stepped forward, bowed deeply, and spoke. “Greetings, most honored guest. I am Mangasour, the local leader.”

  What a nice place. I liked it already. He provided me with my first good look at the species. He was my height, about my weight, and roughly of human proportions. Two arms and legs, eight small digits on each appendage, and a head shaped like a football. The main difference that jumped out was he had two pair of eyes, two close and lower, and one spread apart, larger, and higher on his head. If the light was dim enough, the Kaljax could be mistaken for humans.

  I was ushered into a vehicle. It was much like a car back home and even sounded like it had an internal combustion engine. Mangasour gave me the grand tour. As we traversed the city, he pointed out landmarks and filled me in on local customs and history. He was refreshingly open and cordial.

  He ordered the driver to stop at a building serving food. “Would you care to refresh yourself, Jon. Yours must have been a long journey.”

  Sure, why not? The food would be a nice change “I'd love to, if you'll join me.”

  “To be certain. On Kaljax we say 'never pass on a chance for a free meal or a stop at the dump-station.'” Probably meant the bathroom. Nice philosophy.

  He ordered an extensive spread and invited some of those who'd met me initially to join in. It was a proper banquet. Ffffuttoe would be upset she missed it. My analysis of the food showed it to be quite edible. Carbohydrates mostly, along with some trace minerals, protein, and fiber. The spices were interesting, like nothing I'd ever tasted before. They were consistent with plant extracts, much like back home, but with an entirely different flavor spectrum.

  As the meal wound up, Mangasour got down to business. He asked what it was I wanted. Why had I traveled so far? I gave him my well-practiced response about exploring to find a new home for my people. He was quite sympathetic. Having one's home world destroyed was, he understood, quite a serious matter. He asked what aid the people of Kaljax might provide. There were many unpopulated areas on the planet which might be suitable for our colonization. He would be honored to show them to me personally, at my convenience.

  That was a very generous offer, especially since we'd just met and he hadn't inquired about what numbers we were talking about. He also knew next to nothing about the species he was inviting to cohabitate his world with. If fact, I began to worry his invitation was too generous, too unconditional, and too quickly offered. Now, why would someone offer something he really shouldn't have? What good reason was there for such altruism? Yeah, none. Which would mean trying to Mangasour was playing me as a carny plays a rube. I'd keep a close eye on the guy.

  We left the restaurant and walked toward the
waiting car. Mangasour asked what I would like to see next. Their zoo, perhaps. I deferred, asking to return to my shuttle. He was explosively courteous, obsequious, in fact. After I was seated in the back, he excused himself, saying he needed to see about the bill for the meal. He closed my door and entered the building. There were times being an android when no one knew I was one came in really handy. Such was the case for me, secluded in the car. I followed his footsteps to keep track of him. I also turned the volume up on my hearing mechanism to maximum. In hushed tones, I heard the following exchange:

  Mangasour: “Are you certain you put the evalgian in his food?”

  Male voice: “Yes, Lord! I put in as much as I dared.”

  Mangasour: “And you saw to it he received **** (inaudible) bowl, not someone ****?”

  Male voice: “Absolutely, ****. No one else dropped dead, so no one else **** his portion.”

  Mangasour: “True. So, the beast can eat evalgian and live. It was a long shot, not knowing his ****. Ah well, Feg, we'll fare better next ****.”

  Male voice: “I'm certain of ****, Lord. It is foretold.”

  Foretold, eh? I was what, some biblical fulfillment? And they tried to kill me right off the bat? They hadn't known me long enough to dislike me that much yet. Sure, in time, I could see it, but so soon? There was no way they could know I was on to them. How would I proceed, given my dicey circumstance.

  As I sat there alone, a car screeched to a halt along side me. Three people jumped out. They had rifles. Without warning, one of them shot my driver in the back of his head. His body slumped forward onto the control lever. Two people who had eaten with me ran out onto the sidewalk. They reached toward their waists, but were dropped by multiple blasts from the gunman. Mangasour started down the hallway, but, seeing the carnage in front of him, retreated back around the corner he'd come from.