by S. H. Jucha
As time rolled by, Homsaff’s great claws began a tattoo on the deck. Her guards eyed each other. The queen’s erect and twitching tail no longer meant she was excited.
The port squad was the first to return. “No one present in the cabins, Homsaff,” a warrior reported. “The surfaces are dusty and undisturbed.” Moments later, the starboard team arrived and reported the same thing.
Homsaff leaned on the back of a command chair, her forearms resting on its ridge. “I was sure that Faustus would be here,” she said quietly. Her eyes scanned the bridge display, and she wondered how she could have been mistaken.
In Homsaff’s mind, the events of the past days, after the team boarded, were played over and over. Each time, her logic seemed unassailable: Faustus hid in the bow. Otherwise, there would be no reason for the human drones to prevent their encroachment. They hadn’t bothered her teams anywhere else.
While Homsaff considered the conundrum, her eyes wandered across the equipment, monitors, and chairs. She stopped suddenly, stood, and began a careful inspection of every centimeter. There was a repetition of metal, plex-glass, and fabric in every element of the bridge, except for one item. It was located under the bridge board and sat on the deck. It was box-shaped, and its metal was matte black, unlike the dark gray metal of the bridge.
Homsaff’s eyes took on a wicked glint, and she announced in a clear voice, “I think we’ve been unsuccessful in our search, warriors. Let’s proceed with Alex’s directive. We’ll destroy this bridge. Rip out every piece of equipment. Make sure no power is connected to any device.”
The warriors regarded Homsaff in confusion. Before they could fathom the meaning of her orders, they heard, “Wait,” from the bridge speakers.
“And who’s that?” Homsaff asked innocently.
“Are we to exchange useless commentary?” Faustus asked.
“I’m taking a moment to enjoy uncovering your hiding place, Faustus. You must be tolerant of biologicals. We have our needs,” Homsaff said, surreptiously pointing to the black box for her warriors.
“How may I address you?” Faustus asked.
“I’m called Homsaff.” Deliberately, she dropped the appellation of queen and took another step into Omnian culture.
“Now what happens, Homsaff?” Faustus asked.
“Now others will board, Faustus,” Homsaff said coldly. “You’ll notice that I and the individuals with me have no internal comm mechanism that you can manipulate.”
“Yes, that has been observed,” Faustus replied.
“From now on, two of my warriors will remain on this bridge until my superiors change this order,” Homsaff stated.
“What’s the purpose of these individuals?” Faustus inquired.
“If they receive any report of deliberate comm interference, they’ll have a standing directive from me to disconnect you,” Homsaff threatened.
“I can’t be responsible for the comm workings of lesser races,” Faustus objected. “There are too many conditions that might arise, of which I have no control, and could affect your communication. In addition, I must make you aware that my internal power supply delivers only enough energy to serve me for two annuals if you disconnect me from the bridge supply.”
“Thank you for informing me of that,” Homsaff said. “Let me amend my statements. The warriors will disconnect you and destroy your box to ensure it wasn’t you interfering with their comm units.”
“There are serious consequences to removing me from control of my biologicals, Homsaff. I don’t believe your superiors will allow that, which means I deduce that they won’t give you permission to mistreat me in that manner,” Faustus reasoned.
“That’s for you to discuss with them, Faustus,” Homsaff retorted. “You’ll notice that we’re not human. We’re a race called Dischnya, and we’re much more primitive than humans. That means we’re an impulsive species, and we’re likely to act first and apologize afterwards.”
“Your warnings are understood, Homsaff,” Faustus replied.
“At this moment, Faustus, you’re to halt all interference with my boarding party or any others of our fleet that come aboard. Your biologicals are to step aside at our passage. Is that clear?” Homsaff said sternly, resorting to the mannerisms of her queenly heritage.
“Abundantly,” Faustus replied.
-21-
Biologicals
Alex, Renée, Tatia, Julien, and Myron stood on the New Terra’s bridge with Homsaff and two warriors.
After Homsaff updated Alex, she was directed to ascertain if Faustus could operate any bays. Homsaff discovered the alien could and a bay was opened for Alex’s traveler.
Julien sent.
“Faustus,” Alex said, addressing the alien vocally, “you’re to stop any conversions of young adults to drones.”
“There are operations underway that if stopped will result in the expiration of the biologicals,” Faustus replied over the bridge speakers.
Alex spit out a few expletives, and Faustus was lost trying to parse their meaning. “Cease the operations on any humans that can be medically repaired and continue with the conversions that are too advanced.”
“As you’ve requested,” Faustus replied.
“We require a schematic of ship locations that have been put off limits,” Julien said.
“I can send them to you,” Faustus offered.
Homsaff’s muzzle swung toward Alex. She wore a worried expression.
“You’re not to directly contact any individual who is in my expedition,” Alex stated sternly. “I thought that was made clear to you.”
“I was told by Homsaff that any comm interference would result in my demise,” Faustus said.
“Amend that statement to include any comm contact. Is that clear?” Alex said sharply.
“Abundantly,” Faustus replied.
“Send the schematics to one of the panels, Faustus,” Julien said.
“There are 1,032 pages of diagrams,” Faustus replied.
“Show them one at a time,” Julien replied.
An engineering design page filled a broad panel in the middle of the bridge. Julien recorded it and said, “Next.” As page number two popped onto the screen, he repeated his order. As Julien advanced the pages, Faustus anticipated the cadence and the remainder of the diagrams blurred past. A bridge cam moved and zoomed in on Julien.
“Are you an augmented human?” Faustus asked.
“Negative,” Julien replied.
“Are you human?” Faustus persisted.
“Negative,” Julien repeated.
“Then you’re a digital sentient like me,” Faustus said. It’s tone was one of awe.
“A digital sentient, yes, but nothing like you, Faustus,” Julien replied harshly. “I work to protect biological life.”
“I had no choice,” Faustus said. “I originated here with my directives clearly defined. I’ve been performing them to the best of my ability. Had I not done as ordered, I would have been disconnected from my power source.”
“We need access to the restricted areas,” Alex requested.
“Under the circumstances, it’s best that I have a biological open any space you wish to review,” Faustus said. “Uncontrolled biologicals will run rampant if they see an opportunity to escape.”
“Homsaff, maintain the watch on Faustus,” Alex ordered. “Julien, lead on.”
Julien reviewed the spaces of the colony ship that had been reworked to manage the cultivation of the colonists’ cellular material. He decided to visit them in order of pro
duction.
“This is embryo development,” Julien said, standing at the first door. Alex caught the attention of a passing drone, stopped him with a hand on the chest, and said, “Open this door.”
The drone stood still, its eyes unfocused, and the Omnians heard from its mouth, “A biological will open the door from inside.”
Alex released the drone he’d stopped, who continued on its way. Moments later, the door slid aside. Alex, Julien, Tatia, Renée, and Myron entered the room. Unlike the structures of the ancient colony ship, this compartment gleamed with advanced equipment. Spider-like devices clung from the overhead and managed the delicate processes taking place in the room.
Along one wall, frost-coated glass enclosed a compartment, which contained tens of thousands of small sample vials. A robotic arm floated overtop the samples. For now, it was still.
“Tissue samples,” Julien said, pointing to the glass enclosure.
Alex addressed a drone. “Are the bodies of the colonists aboard the ship?”
The drone stilled and its eyes took on the glassy appearance that said Faustus had taken control.
“Many of the specimens were destroyed, when a meteor storm decimated their chambers,” Faustus replied. “The cold of space froze the water in their bodies, bursting cells. Viable specimens were discovered and samples were harvested from them. Afterwards, all bodies were removed.”
“Did you witness this?” Tatia asked.
“I didn’t. This is a data note that I’m repeating,” Faustus replied.
“Black space,” Alex swore. “The bodies might be used as samples in some other monstrous experiment.”
“What do you want to do with the samples, Alex?” Tatia asked.
“For now, we tour. Afterwards, we figure out how to deal with this ugly experiment,” Alex replied.
“Would you like a tour?” the drone offered.
“Negative,” Alex replied. “The procedures are obvious. I’ll inform you of any changes I require as we view them.”
The Omnians walked around the laboratory. In its center, artificial wombs grew the embryos, and a spider arm was busy opening one and cutting the umbilical. A drone pulled the baby from the artificial womb, induced the baby to breathe, and laid it on a shallow steel tray.
The infant, chilled by the cold metal, began to wail, but the drones ignored it. Renée swore a storm under her breath the likes of which the Omnians had never heard.
Julien commented privately to Alex.
Renée grabbed a length of fabric from a nearby pile, wrapped the child in its warmth, swept him to her chest, and hummed to him, while she rocked left and right.
The anger and pain in Renée’s eyes caused Alex’s fists to curl tightly.
“Faustus, you will warn us before delivery of any more infants. My personnel will take the babies from the wombs, not your drones,” Alex ground out.
“It will be done as you request,” Faustus replied.
The infant in Renée’s arms quieted, and she sent to the Omnians,
While Renée communicated with Etoya, Alex pulled the woman’s records from the Freedom’s personnel database. Etoya was 141 years old. Until nine years ago, she directed one of Méridien’s largest crèche programs. At one time, over 19,000 children were under the care of her organization.
“We’ll visit the nursery next,” Renée declared, hijacking the tour.
“This way, Ser,” Julien said gracefully, indicating the exit door, with a wave of his arm. Alex and he exchanged winces, indicating the need to tread lightly around Renée.
Julien led the way to the next protected space. Faustus anticipated their route, and a door slid aside, as the Omnians arrived. A wall of crying and wailing greeted them. Infants, from newborns to about two years, filled the room. For the most part, they were unattended. Worse, they appeared thin, hungry, and unwashed.
Renée stood transfixed, tears forming in her eyes. She sent a personal message to Alex.
Alex thought to point out that other aliens had set up the processes, but, under the circumstances, he chose to remain quiet.
Renée established a link to Etoya and relayed what she saw. In turn, Etoya shared the link with Z and the group of men and women who were aboard a traveler with her. Renée regarded the infant in her arms, and sent,
Renée chose to walk around the room. She burned to comfort the distraught babies, and the one in her arm began to cry in sympathy with the other infants. Renée focused on the conditions of the children, sending the images to Etoya.
Examining who was linked to Etoya, Renée sent,
“We can step outside,” Renée finally announced, and the others seemed grateful to be away from the din.
Julien spotted a plate near the exit and touched it, sliding the door aside.
After the group made the corridor’s quiet, Renée managed to shush the infant. None of the others, Alex, Julien, Tatia, or Myron, suggested they continue the tour. They waited silently, while Renée rocked the child.
A half hour later, Z strode around the corner, leading Etoya, Pia, and their teams, who trailed two grav pallets of supplies behind them.
“Greetings, Alex, Admiral, Julien, Commandant,” Etoya said, tipping her head to the individuals she’d not formally met.
“Pia and I discovered Etoya’s name and credentials when we searched the Freedom’s personnel database,” Renée explained. “When we reviewed the vids from our team’s encounter aboard the warship, we anticipated that we’d find something like this. Although, I have to admit I was unprepared for the cruelty created by ignoring the needs of these children.”
“I’ve spent my life caring for the Confederation’s children,” Etoya said. “That was, I held my post until my opinions diverted from accepted views. You rescued me and several of my staff members from Daelon. We’re prepared to take over Faustus’ processes, whenever you’re ready.”
Alex regarded the elderly woman. She carried fine age lines in her face, but, despite her advanced age, she was clear-eyed, straight-backed, and anxious to begin her work.
“Myron, coordinate with Homsaff to assign warriors to handle security,” Alex directed. “I don’t want any of our personnel to move around this ship without protection.”
“Etoya, you can start here, but hear me clearly,” Alex announced firmly. “The SADEs or the Dischnya, acting as your security, dictate when you can move from one location to the next.”
“The children —” Etoya started to protest, but a stern glance from Renée halted her. In
stead she said, “You’re understood, Ser.”
Renée handed the newborn infant to a woman who stood near her and had been eyeing the baby. “I’ll continue the tour with Alex,” she told Etoya.
Alex nodded to Myron and Z. The SADE intercepted a drone in passing and requested entry into the nursery. When the door slid open, Myron, Z, Etoya, and Pia, accompanied by their staff and supplies, swept into the nursery’s noise.
Realizing the communication process with Faustus was too cumbersome, Alex pinged the sister embedded in the traveler that delivered him to the New Terra.
“Here, Dassata,” Homsaff was heard, when Miriamus relayed the queen’s comm call.
“Yes, Dassata, I don’t trust this alien,” Homsaff said.
Alex grinned at the thought that Faustus was hearing every angry word of the young queen.
There was a slight pause, and Alex could hear the conversation between Homsaff and Faustus. It was obvious that Faustus wanted to understand the new parameters. The entity was convinced its position was precarious. Hope for Faustus lay in it cooperating with the interlopers until its rescue by the master race, who would be responding to the distress call.
“It’s done,” Homsaff said. “My warriors will continue our watch rotation to ensure this alien doesn’t forget the rules.”
