“This is a connecting point for the transport system,” Brinley said. “These look like designations for artificial intelligence systems. I wonder…. Yes, it is here” She pressed on of the line items.
“This is TSI-981. Unable to connect to lattice. Negative function to links and couplings. Repairs requested.” The mechanical voice stated.
“Yes!” Brinley exclaimed with glee.
“The AI you and Tennard have been working with?” Gretchen asked.
“Yes. TSI-981, will you bring a transport vehicle to this location?”
“Please designate desired location. Repairs requested,” the AI responded.
“TSI-981, entering override code. Bring a transport vehicle to this location,” Brinley touched several more places on the screen.
“Code accepted. Please designate desired location. Repairs requested.”
“TSI-981, bring a vehicle to where I am. The desired location is here.” Brinley looked around and tried to find anything that would indicate a nomenclature for their location.
Paul looked to the entry door, and there were some scrapped away paint which might once have been letters and numbers, but not enough to identify even a single character. Gretchen also searched for a name for their location.
“Unable to comply with request. Insufficient data to make determination of location. Please designate desired location. Repairs requested.”
“TSI-981, connect me to Tennard,” Brinley commanded.
“Unable to comply with request. Insufficient data to make determination of item ‘tennard’. Please designate desired location or person. Repairs requested.”
“TSI-981, please make a communication link to the last location you took a vehicle.” Brinley was leaning forward in anticipation.
“Complying. Repairs requested.” The screen shifted to show the upper left quarter of the screen with a different view. It was not the terminal near Tennard’s workshop. It was a crisp and clean terminal, but Brinley was unable to ascertain where it was.
“TSI-981, what am I seeing?” Brinley asked.
“Unable to comply with request. Insufficient data to make determination of ‘what you are seeing’. Please designate desired image, location, or person. Repairs requested.”
“TSI-981, what are you displaying?” Brinley asked.
“Complying. I am displaying what you asked to see. Negative function to lattice. Negative function to Machine Maintenance. Repairs requested.”
“TSI-981, please elaborate on what you are displaying. Give me all available information on your answer to my request,” Brinley said.
“Complying. Displayed is a view from aperture NS14A. Aperture NS14A was installed with the transport system forty three days prior to finalization of system. Aperture NS14A was manufactured in the…”
The screen display blinked and a man’s image was there. He had crisp short black hair, a medium and clear complexion, and round brown eyes. His eyes were direct and focused at the display. He was wearing a uniform of dark blue with gold trim. There were red epaulets on his shoulders.
“This is the midshipman monitoring this area. You are at a dysfunctional communication station. What is your purpose?”
Brinley was stunned. “I am trying…”
Paul stepped up and interrupted. “We are trying to find a safe passage to the Wilds. Will you help us?”
There was a bit of a pause. Then the midshipman responded. “The communication station you are using is dysfunctional. The area you are located in is under quarantine and is an isolation restricted area. It is not a safe place for human travel.”
“That is why we wish to depart,” Paul said in an irritated voice.
“Leaving that area is a good idea,” the midshipman replied. “I am not clear on your intended destination. ‘Wilds’ is not in the databank. Are you mistaken? Confused? In need of medical services? As I said, the area you are located in is under quarantine and is an isolation restricted area.”
Brinley pushed Paul away. “Sir, we are in need of transport out of here. What is our location officially called?”
The midshipman looked puzzled. “You are at a dysfunctional communication station. I am not able to ascertain your precise location. Your signal is originating in an isolation restricted area. From the background of the visual signals you appear to be in one of the many transport hubs. I am not able to indentify it with any more certainty than that. I am sorry, but the transportation tube system has yet to be restored to proper functioning. With the infectious status of the isolation restricted areas, repair of the transport tube system is a low priority. Containment of the pathogens is a higher priority. Your companion said your intended destination was ‘Wilds’ is that a euphemism or local slang?”
“The official name is, E Habitat: Wilderness,” Brinley hesitantly replied. “That is our goal.”
“That is under Governor Larissa’s jurisdiction. Shall I reroute this link to her offices?” the midshipman said.
“No!” Brinley cried out. She deeply regretted giving the information. “Pardon me, no need to bother Governor Larissa on this issue. We will find our own way back.”
“The habitat Governors and Constables are there in service to the people of their habitats,” the midshipman stated. “I will relay a message to both Governor Larissa and Governor Svoboda regarding your status and need. Since you are in an isolation restricted area, there is little they can do. The quarantine is in effect and must be maintained. Additionally I will send a report to TSI-7 Ship-wide Internal Security Operations (SISO). This is for the greater good of the residents of the habitats, and the general safety of the Colony Ship Vanguard. Remnant populations will wither and become extinct.”
“Are you with the CPO?” Paul asked.
“Paul, no!” Brinley said and reached to shut down the display. Paul stepped in her way. Brinley still tried by reaching around Paul and hitting the display screen. It did not shut down.
“That is correct,” the midshipman stated. “All midshipmen are officers of the Central Planning Office. We are located in the core drive section of the Vanguard. The Central Planning Office, commonly referred to as the CPO, understands that there are remnant refugees outside of the safety of the biological habitats. You are apparently among them. It is regrettable that not all members of the remnant population will survive.”
“Why did you try to kill us?” Paul asked.
“With all due respect, you are mistaken. The Central Planning Office does not seek to kill any passengers of the Colony Ship Vanguard, not even the remnant populations in isolation restricted areas. Our goal is to make the voyage as safe and pleasant as possible for the residents of the habitats, so containment of pathogens is necessary. Your assertion is faulty.”
“You shot apart the shuttles! You nearly killed us several times!” Paul yelled.
“Emotional outbursts are signs of stress and irrationality. This is understandable being that you are located in an isolation restricted area. Traumatic stress disorder, which would be common among the remnant populations in isolation restriction areas, is treatable by our health care systems. Let me reiterate, your assertion is faulty. Shuttles are not authorized to fly while we are in transit. Shuttles are in long term storage and are reserved for use only upon arrival at our destination solar system. I strongly suggest you seek out a Mental Hygiene Clinic to address these concepts. Perhaps folklore has sprung up and you are confused as to what is real and what is folklore? A physical assessment is also advised as some pathological ailments can have mental and emotional components,” The midshipman stated rather smugly.
“Paul, Brinley, we need to leave,” Gretchen said.
“Shuttles were flying and have been for my entire life. Tell me, did the CPO repair the macroactinide capacitor enhancers?” Brinley asked.
“Like your companion, your assertion is flawed. We have no records of any shuttles being used since the Vanguard’s launch. As to repairs, the Central Planning Office is constantly wo
rking to repair the state of the Colony Ship Vanguard. Repair of faulty systems is in the best interest of all passengers and residents. I do not have access to more details about the specific systems you are asking about. Rest assured the Central Planning Office makes every effort to repair the ship’s systems. Our lattice of artificial intelligence systems constantly is monitoring the progress of repairs, and things are improving.”
“What? I saw people die?” Brinley yelled. “The CPO has been killing people!” She too was now enraged.
“The Central Planning Office does not seek for any passengers or residents to have untimely deaths. There have been far too many disruptions to the mission plan already. Our efforts are directed at repairing and reestablishing the proper functioning of the Colony Ship Vanguard. Addressing threats to the ship’s welfare is essential for the Vanguard. This will maximize the greatest benefits for the greatest number of people, and enhance the success potential of our trek,” the midshipman stated. “I apologize that I cannot be of better service to you. Being that you are in an isolation restricted area, and part of the remnant population, the assets available for me to assist you are limited. Until the infection is eliminated from the ship there will be pockets of isolated groups and individuals who are unable to rejoin society. This is regrettable, but our conjectures show that this situation will resolve itself in the near future.”
“Paul, Brinley, we need to leave. Something is not right here,” Gretchen said with urgency in her voice. “Come on!”
Paul and Brinley did finally step away from the display screen.
“I wish you a safe and pleasant journey as you search for your destination,” the midshipman stated. “Please do not violate quarantine, and remember, the Central Planning Office is here to serve you.”
Gretchen, Paul, and Brinley jumped over the liquid on the floor, and exited the transport hub.
“So that was the CPO?” Paul asked.
“I have never had direct contact with any person in the CPO, well except for the Governors and Constables,” Brinley stated. “That midshipman was just weird.”
“Obviously, he does not care what happens to us,” Paul said. “But was he telling the truth about the CPO?”
“Paulie, you saw the crashes and the death,” Gretchen said. “We all did.”
“I know they died,” Paul yelled. “I know! But who did it?”
“Larissa did much of it,” Brinley stated. “But how much? That midshipman seemed to honestly think the shuttles do not fly.”
“Well, they do not now,” Paul said.
“No, they do not, now, but he genuinely thinks they never have,” Brinley said. “He said something about shuttles not being allowed to fly during the mission.”
“I am not sure I trust him. He claimed to not know our location, but what if he did?” Gretchen asked. “There could be red automacubes on the way here right now. He mentioned going extinct, and that sounded like a threat to me.”
“Right. We should leave quickly.” Brinley pulled out the minicomputer. “It looks like there is a crawlspace we can use to get around this closed door. Unless you want to spend the time cutting it open?”
“Will it be faster to use the crawl space?” Paul asked.
“Yes, and the minicomputer shows it is unobstructed, at least as far as this can scan.”
Brinley pulled the grillwork off the side wall. There was a dull amber colored glow coming from the crawlspace. She got down and crawled into the space. Gretchen followed with the fusion pack light on, and Paul came last. He pulled the grillwork back into place, and secured it.
While the three people crawled away, back in the transport hub, the inert blue automacube reactivated itself. The façade of being drained of power had worked. It rolled up the stairs and jacked a cable into the display screen. In the nonphysicality, the blue automacube reviewed, recorded, and archived the conversations between Brinley and TSI-981. It gathered all the information. It then did the same for the conversations with the CPO’s midshipman. The blue automacube was stealthy and careful as it extracted the midshipman’s information. There were nonphysical security posts, traps, and lockouts established by the Central Planning Office which needed to be surreptitiously avoided.
When all the information was gathered it unjacked from the port. It then connected a different cable, one that was modified, into the same access port. The screen flickered back to life with a random pattern of colors and intensity. All the information the machine had just gathered and stored was then sent to the blue automacube’s master, Phoenix Dominie.
12 Gardens of delight
“The end of this crawl space is just up here,” Brinley said as she went around a ninety degree corner. “It is dark beyond it.”
“It will be good to stand up again. Crawling is not my favorite thing to do,” Paul said.
“It is better than swimming,” Gretchen chided.
“The grille here is stiff, and I cannot see all that is beyond it. The minicomputer’s plotter says we are on the right course, and the space outside seems clear of rubble or impediments. There are some odd fluctuations on the minicomputer about the chamber, but we need to go this way.” There was a bang and a clattering. “I had to kick open the grille, everything looks clear, but it is really dim in there.”
“The parabolic inhaler casually quits,” someone in the darkness yelled. It echoed so loudly that it was hard to determine which direction it was coming from.
“There is a Roe out here!” Brinley yelled as she dove to the deck and rolled away, hoping it was the correct direction.
Gretchen rushed out of the crawlspace, and shined the light around. She could not locate the Roe or Brinley. “Brinley where are you?”
“The parabolic inhaler casually quits.”
“Where is it?” Paul said as he too crawled out of the small tunnel.
“I do not see it.” Gretchen was adjusting the light’s beam to a broader source, from the tight beam it had been. The light was acting peculiar, and Gretchen could not understand why. “Paul where are you?”
“I am here!” Paul yelled as he spun about looking for Gretchen or Brinley or the Roe.
“I do not see you,” Gretchen replied.
The corridor or chamber was odd. There seemed no geometric shape to it. The walls did not reflect the light, nor did shadows form when the fusion pack light hit them. The walls were sort of illuminated, but the light just dispersed after it hit one of them. The walls almost seemed in flux. There was an eerie radiance around them as well.
“The parabolic inhaler casually quits.” The voice was not identifiable as male or female, but was clearly distressed like previous Roe they had encountered. It echoed again all around them.
“Where is it?” Paul asked again. He had drawn out his handgun. “Where are you both?”
“Youch!” Gretchen yelled out. “I just got hit by something.”
The light flashed, and Paul rushed to where he could now see Gretchen. As he approached her, the light went out and she was no longer there. The light had shifted. “Huh? Gretchen? Where are you?”
“I am right here Paul. Some piece of wood was thrown at me. I am not seriously hurt, but I cannot see the Roe. Brinley do you see it?”
“I cannot see much in this stupid place. The environmental modulators are haywire. Can you feel the heat in here?” Brinley replied.
“What? It is cold in here,” Paul answered. “Are we going to freeze again?”
“Hey? How did we get so far apart?” Gretchen asked. She looked and saw Brinley in a flash of the light, but she looked a dozen meters away.
“I am not sure we are so far apart…. Phew!” Brinley yelled. “I just got smacked in the back. I did not see who or what did it.”
“The parabolic inhaler casually quits.”
Paul saw the Roe in a flash of the light. Its glowing orange eyes were blazing with anger and malice. Its clothing was mere rags. The lack of a beard suggested it was once a female, but in the brief fla
sh of the light Paul could not be sure. He did see it raise its arm and throw something.
“Gretchen, keep the light on steady!” Paul yelled. He had just gotten the handgun up to fire, when the light shifted again, and the Roe vanished.
“It is on steady. What do you mean?”
The whole place seemed to shift and change under their feet, at their sides, and above them.
“The environmental modulators are running rampant. They control, light, heat, and air,” Brinley yelled. “In this section, they are not attuned, and something else…. Something is wrong… I see rainbows of light cascading all around, but cannot see the Roe.”
“I see flashing lights,” Paul added. “I did see the Roe, but it was gone before I could shoot it.”
The Colony Ship Vanguard: The entire eight book series in one bundle Page 77
