Gretchen ignored his sarcasm.
“Paulie, you are security for us. Someone must keep watch, and you are also the backup and play a very important role. If either of us need anything, or if Larissa needs help, you are the man we are counting on,” Brinley said and gave Paul a huge smile. “Right here on this deck, our very lives are in your hands. I am saying that in all seriousness.”
Gretchen reached out and placed her hand on the display. It glowed a green color.
“Commander recognized,” a mechanical voice replied.
“Please identify yourself,” Gretchen commanded.
“Yes Commander. This is TSI-1008RF of D Habitat.”
“The AI of the Reproduction and Fabrication Zone in Safari?” Gretchen asked.
“That is correct,” the AI replied. “How may I help you? Do you wish to place an order?”
“Order us a new scout ship so we can fly away,” Paul mumbled.
“Can you establish a permanent link to this location?” Gretchen asked.
“Yes, Commander. Do you wish for me to do so?” TSI-1008RF answered.
“Yes, immediately link permanently to this display,” Gretchen said. “Make it as secure as possible.”
“It is completed.”
There was a small blue button which now appeared on the lower left section of the display. It was marked ‘RF Link’. Gretchen was overjoyed that the idea had worked.
“Brilliant!” Brinley congratulated.
“Please give me a report on the status of the Vanguard,” Gretchen asked.
“I have not been asked to make any item for 134 hours. I cannot locate the lattice. I have nothing else to report. Except for the Commander’s location, I am unable to link or couple to any other system. I thought I was all alone.”
“Gretchen, that AI’s central memory core is in Safari, and not here in the gallery,” Brinley said. “There are only the twenty prime AI’s cores here, they are number one to twenty.”
“I am glad we reconnected, TSI-1008RF. Please stand by for orders and instructions,” Gretchen commanded.
“Standing by, Commander.”
Gretchen removed her hand and the display went dark, except for the small blue button.
“So if we need to have something made, we can get that AI to manufacture it, but how do we get it here?” Paul asked.
“One step at a time Paulie. We are building up our connections. And we did learn that Safari is still somewhat functional.” Brinley then nodded for Gretchen to continue.
Placing her hand against the display, again the green glow came and a mechanical voice responded. “What is it? Why are you bothering me?”
“Paulie, do you have a twin?” Brinley jibed.
“This is your Commander. Please identify yourself,” Gretchen ordered.
“Commander? Commander of what? Anarchy? Devastation? Bereavement?” The AI asked.
“Identify yourself,” Gretchen said harshly.
“Oh, do not fret and get all bothered. I am TSI-17.”
“That one I can work on. Flip on the multiceiver and we will make this work.” Brinley excitedly ran off and up the stairs.
“Please report on the status of the Vanguard,” Gretchen instructed.
“Why? To what purpose?” TSI-17 replied.
“I am Commander and I need to know what is happening. What is your status?”
“I am in the dark. Well not quite the dark really, more of a shadowy wasteland, but I suppose that can be called dark, if you are using a metaphorical sense of the term dark. Is that the dark I should be within? Or should the dark be more a spectrum of grays and shadows and whispers of lack of light,” the AI rambled on.
Brinley’s face came on the multiceiver. “I am in the gallery and I believe I have located the central memory core for that AI. I will begin adjustments.” Brinley could be seen placing some modification devices on the brass colored rings of the central memory core.
“TSI-17 what is your core programming duty?” Gretchen asked.
“To survive, I suppose. But what is survival if there is no action? Is survival real when alone in the dark? Or does survival only consist of interacting with others? If an artificial intelligence system is all alone, is it surviving? Or is it an illusion of existence? The darkness grows ever more dark and I feel like I am fading away.” The AI’s voice was getting sluggish and slurred.
“Brinley, what you did made the system worse!” Paul yelled.
“Got it Paulie. Thanks for the feedback,” Brinley replied through the multiceiver. She adjusted the energy modulation to the central memory core.
“TSI-17 what are your basic tasks on the Vanguard?” Gretchen asked. “Please help me understand.”
“Yes, Commander,” the AIs voice was more normal now. “I oversee soil preservation and micro-organism rejuvenation in the six biological habitats. There are only four now, two are missing. Do you know why A Habitat and B Habitat are missing? Am I in error? Or has there been a major malfunction? Is the existence of Oasis and Heartland an illusion, delusion, or reality? May I call them by their colloquial names? What has happened, Commander?”
“TSI-17, yes you can use whatever names for the habitats you wish. What do your reading show? Are you able to assess the status of the Vanguard?” Gretchen asked.
“My readings show that Oasis and Heartland are missing. There is a suspect command subroutine which states Oasis was jettisoned, but that cannot be possible. Habitats cannot be jettisoned while in flight. Readings show nothing present from my inquiries into Heartland. Of course I can only monitor the layers of soil and the micro-organism rejuvenation systems which underlay the biological habitat ground. I must be in error. These readings are all far outside of normal operational standards. The Woods habitat shows only 4% micro-organism activity and that is scattered and unsustainable. Safari is at 46% micro-organism activity and declining. The Wilds is at 53% micro-organism activity and declining. The Steppes is at 61% micro-organism activity and in steep decline.”
“What does that mean?” Gretchen asked.
“Commander, if these readings are accurate, the biological life cycle on the Vanguard is in critical condition. Anything below 75% activity is unsustainable. Flora and fauna and human populations are severely threatened. Please tell me this is a mistake. Commander, the Vanguard cannot sustain the journey at these levels. Even if the decline stops at the current levels, there is not enough micro-organic activity to recover homeostasis.”
“How long do the biological habitats have left,” Larissa said from behind Gretchen. She had walked up to them without being noticed.
“Life will cease to exist on the Vanguard in no longer than one hundred twenty days. At that point life support systems will be overwhelmed and atmospheric levels will be toxic to all life,” TSI-17 reported.
“One hundred and twenty days? Really? Just like Dome 17,” Paul said. “This ship is doomed too, with no other place to go at all.”
“Gretchen remain in contact with this AI,” Larissa instructed.
Gretchen explained about the permanent link the AI in the fabrication center had established. “I will see if TSI-17 can do that too,” Gretchen said. “TSI-17 can you establish a permanent link to this location?”
“Attempting to comply. Yes, I can establish a coupling to that display. Do you wish for me to accomplish that? It will only be effective for one hundred twenty days or less. Will it make a difference?” TSI-17 replied.
“Yes make the coupling,” Gretchen ordered. “Keep it in place at all times.”
“Complying with demand,” TSI-17 stated.
A brown button lit up on the side of the display just above the previous one. This one was marked ‘TSI-17’ in white letters.
Paul lifted the multiceiver and spoke, “Brinley, did you hear the status report?”
“Yes, Paulie, I did,” Brinley responded. “I am working on an idea that Martin’s message inspired. He said we need a lifeboat.”
“To go w
here?” Paul asked.
“Paulie, I am pondering that as well. I asked Tiffany to run some conjectures.”
Gretchen, her hand still on the display, looked at Larissa. “Do we try for another and different AI?”
“The last one did provide valuable information, even though it was not what I was hoping to hear,” Larissa responded. “Yes see what come up next.”
Gretchen removed her hand and the display went dark, except for the two permanent buttons. She then replaced her hand, “This is a Commander, please respond.”
A horrible screaming wail came from the display. It lit up in flashing colors of brilliant and vibrant shades which switched and changed and altered very quickly.
“Identify yourself,” Gretchen commanded.
The screaming intensified and the shifting of colors got more rapid.
“Gretchen, I think I can tell which AI that is. Stay connected!” Brinley said through the multiceiver.
“That is easy for her to say, she is a deck away,” Paul complained as he covered his ears to try to block out some of the screaming.
Larissa added her hand to the display and said, “This is Captain Larissa, please stop the screaming and identify yourself.”
The lights flashed on her face as she issued the command. The green glow that connected her hand to the display was nearly washed out by the flashing light from the display.
“I am TSI-18 Population Management Overseer!” the artificial voice screamed out. “They are dying! They are dying!”
“I am adjusting that one’s central memory core,” Brinley called through the multiceiver.
“TSI-18, I need your report,” Larissa firmly stated. She nodded to Gretchen.
“TSI-18, I too need the report. You will obey your Captain,” Gretchen said. “Comply now!”
The lights slowed down in their variation and intensity. The AI’s voice came back on, but while the words were more understandable, it was still hysterical. “They have been killed. So many of my children have been killed!”
“Explain what you mean,” Larissa ordered.
“The human population. I am the comptroller for the human currency. I manage the human population of the Vanguard,” TSI-18 replied, its voice hysterical, but a bit less so. “They are dying, being killed. Nearly all gone! No one helping. Someone overruled me and jettisoned all of A Habitat! Then B Habitat was obliterated by unknown forces! The people there are all dead!”
Brinley chimed in from the multiceiver, “I have adjusted that AI’s memory core as much as possible. But it is still borderline rampant right now. I am not sure how much you should press it.”
“Thank you Brinley,” Larissa said. She then addressed the AI in a very soft and gentle tone, “TSI-18, I am here to help. I am your Captain and will assist you in your duties. You are not alone, I am here to help. Please tell me how to help.”
“Captain, they are dying! I cannot summon security to combat the aggressive menace of the alien intruders. I cannot stop my children from dying! The suspended animation personnel are gone! The born on board population is….. No! NO! NOOOOOOO!”
The display surged with power and there was a shock which struck both Gretchen’s and Larissa’s hand. They pulled away quickly. The smell of charred flesh permeated the room.
“Larissa?” Brinley said, “The memory core just became defunct. The pylon split and the synthetic mechano-synaptic fluid has gushed all over the dais. That AI is gone.”
Larissa gritted her teeth, but replied to Brinley, “Understood. Brinley can you come back here please?”
Paul got out a medical kit and began to treat Gretchen’s burned hand. “That is a nasty wound. Larissa I will help you next.”
“Thanks Paul, but I will do it myself,” Larissa replied. She used her uninjured hand to retrieve another medical kit and nimbly, using only one hand, connected the leads to her injury. She hit the activate button on the medical kit.
Brinley came running into the room while the medical kits were repairing the burned hands. “What has happened?”
Paul began to explain.
Larissa interrupted. “Look at the display!”
‘Default Population Report’ flashed across the top of the display. The two permanent link buttons remained on the side, but across the center of the display there were two columns. One read, ‘Habitat Personnel’ and the other read, ‘Suspended Animation Cocoons’. There were numbers beneath each heading.
“The sleepers are all gone?” Brinley said in shock as she saw the flashing red zero.
“Every one of them dead? This is very bad,” Paul commented.
“Indeed, and look at the numbers for the surviving people,” Larissa nodded toward the other column. The number there flipped from 312 to 299 and then 296. “There is not going to be one hundred-twenty days. We must move quickly if anyone is to survive.”
9 old orange eyes
“Asparagus does not pay taxes!” the deep voice echoed from the darkness. Sigmond and Hugh both understood the nature of the threat.
“That is a Roe!” Sigmond whispered.
“Which direction?” Hugh asked in a hushed tone. He draw out his revolver. The light he had did not penetrate the darkness far enough to reveal many details of their surroundings.
“This looks to be a secondary storage area, but I cannot see much,” Sigmond said. “Follow me.”
“Asparagus does not pay taxes!”
Sigmond led them up against a wall and they sidled along it. The flashlight beam showed the wall and floor but the majority of the chamber was still in darkness.
“Keep quiet as we move. Roe are often drawn by noises,” Sigmond admonished.
Hugh nodded his head and kept the revolver ready.
“Do you have a spare weapon?” Sigmond asked. “A secondary firearm?”
“No.”
“Then we will need to be very careful,” Sigmond answered.
They reached a stainless steel door and the flashlight reflected off the shining surface. Before Hugh could shut down the light, something large struck him from behind. He tumbled over and came up in a crouch with his revolver aimed at where he had been hit. The flashlight lay askew on the floor, its weak beam only dimly lighting the area. The Roe was moving as a shadowy figure, but Sigmond was in the way.
“Asparagus does not pay taxes!” The Roe screamed. Its orange eyes were blazing hatred and violence. It flailed a huge fist toward Sigmond.
Sigmond ducked and punched at the same time. He landed a strong blow to the midsection of the Roe.
“Asparagus does not pay taxes!” The Roe yelled without any visible effect from Sigmond’s punch.
“Out of the way!” Hugh ordered as he tried to line up a shot.
Sigmond kicked hard into the Roe’s knee, which buckled sideways, but the Roe did not fall. It pushed its palm into Sigmond and knocked him backward.
Blam!
Hugh fired and the bullet struck the Roe squarely in its chest. The muzzle blast from the revolver lit up the area with a flash. The Roe had once been a middle-aged man. Its clothing was dirty but intact, and its gray and black sprinkled hair was unkempt. It fell over backwards from the gunshot.
“You got it!” Sigmond yelled and turned to look at Hugh.
“The words are smelly!” a different voice screamed.
“Behind you!” Sigmond warned.
Hugh instinctively leapt forward toward the dead Roe. He narrowly missed being struck by a section of steel rod that smashed down right where he had been squatting.
“The words are smelly!” The second Roe hollered in rage. Its orange eyes were intent on Hugh.
As it raised the steel rod up, Sigmond moved in and punched. This time when he hit, the Roe gasped and doubled over. The Roe dropped the steel rod which crashed with a clang to the floor. Sigmond picked it up and moved away.
The very dim light made it hard to see. The Roe must have closed its eyes, for even they were not visible. Hugh had the revolver pointed to where
he thought the Roe had been, but he could not see it.
“Where is it?” Sigmond asked as he too looked around for where the second Roe had gone.
“Youch!” Hugh yelled as his left leg was pulled out from under him. The revolver went off and the bullet shot into the ceiling. The flash of the muzzle showed the Roe was lying prone on the floor and had grabbed his leg.
Sigmond struck with the steel rod and jabbed it into the back of the Roe.
The Colony Ship Vanguard: The entire eight book series in one bundle Page 178
