Terror on the Trailblazer

by John Thornton

  “You are truly beautiful, Janae,” Ken muttered.

  “Incorrigible. I was cut loose by a blue automacube, then I found some tools,” Janae said. Blood was running down from her forehead. “I am cutting you free, but stay focused. We need to go, now!”

  “Blue what? Huh? Where are we?”

  “An engineering automacube. It wanted me to wait for medical units to arrive, but we are leaving.” Janae pulled him from his seat, and tried to lift him to his feet. “The shuttle crashed and chunks are spread across this hanger bay. Only two machines working now, and both are those blue ones. Some rescue party, but thankfully the bay pressurized before the shuttle cracked apart. Ken, get up. That red automacube with our stuff is in a pile over there.” She gestured with her hands, “I need your help to get our gear back!”

  “Butterfield?” Ken muttered. “The tant?”

  “Forget them… in the wreckage somewhere, I think, or dead. Let the automacubes handle them. Wreckage is strewn all over. Now, quit talking and start moving. We are not waiting to get captured again.”

  Ken shook his head, and did steady himself. He then heard claxons and alert announcements, but the words were muffled a bit. Something about emergency medical staff needed, but he concentrated on Janae.

  “That security machine was crushed by the crash, being at the rear of the shuttle. It was just a fluke we are alive,” Janae said.

  Stumbling out of their section of the wreck, Ken and Janae saw the two blue automacubes busy on the cockpit area, which was about twenty meters away. The shuttle had roughly broken up by sections, with the cockpit in one area, the center—passenger section—was in two halves near to each other, and the tail section was a third clump of debris. In the middle of that clump, sat the remains of the red automacube. Its front was smashed and fluids had soaked all around it. Munitions were strewn about, but the beam of the ceiling that had crushed the automacube had also been where the tail section of the shuttle had been torn from the rest of the craft. Ken was amazed anything survived in the wreck.

  Prying open the compartment on the shattered automacube, Janae said, “Take this,” and handed Ken his revenger in its holster. She also pulled out everything from the storage compartment and distributed it. “Still no medical kit, but I think this is most everything we had. We are leaving.”

  “To go where?” Ken asked, befuddled. “Where are we?”

  “In some other shell, a different biome,” Janae relied, “I hope. Anywhere is better than here. We were first kidnapped in Hanger 5. We are not there, but no matter what, we are getting away from here.”

  “We are in this together,” Ken replied, and he cinched up his backpack, and holster. “I suppose that bulkhead and pressure door will be an exit.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But, Janae, from there, were do we go?”

  Janae scrunched up her face, “Eventually to the homebase or Hanger 5, but right now, we get away from here. We go anywhere else right now.”

  “In the Isle of Pines, we had better luck in the biome, than we did in Ida, but dangers are everywhere.”

  “The biome might be safer,” Janae agreed, but was unsure why she said that.

  Together they hustled past the observation deck, which was unoccupied, and reached the pressure door. It opened as they approached, which was a relief to both of them. As they passed into an antechamber, the bulkhead door ahead of them was looming. A display lit up on a wall and a voice spoke, “Emergency medical staff are responding. Please remain in this location until help arrives.”

  Janae burst out, “It is not safe in there. There are spilled flammable materials, weapons, and lots of things which are toxic. We must leave here!”

  “I see, forgive me. Thank you for that information. I am unable to scan or take readings in the hanger bays,” the voice stated, and Ken and Janae realized it was an artificial intelligence of some kind. “I will pass that very valuable information along, and hasten the arrival of help.”

  “We need to get to the biome,” Ken uttered, remembering Janae’s comment. “Away from these corridors and halls and such. Is the biome safe?”

  “I understand. The gangway is being opened. I have no information suggesting the biome is unsafe, although I do not have that as my nurturing assignment. You can ask further questions at any public-access portal,” the unnamed AI replied. “I apologize for lack of immediate hospitality. This egress to the hanger bay has not been used for forty-three years, eleven days, and nineteen hours. It may have been used prior to that, but my logs were lost. There were massive systems failures, and the ripples from that have continued to this day.”

  The pressure door made some squishing noises behind them, and then blue lights flashed over its top. The bulkhead door slid open, and a passageway was revealed.

  “Okay, then we start with the biome,” Janae stated, again wondering why she felt that way, but feeling the compelling urge to escape Butterfield and the tants.

  “You will need to take elevator E-16-49 up to the main level. From there the cargo ramps and gangway will be opened to you,” the AI stated. “Again, I apologize for my lack of hospitality. The lattice has failed, and the six remaining synthetic brains in this habitat are attempting to compensate for the massive systems failures, but we are struggling to do so.”

  “Synthetic Brains?” Janae asked, as she looked down the passageway and saw where the hand-shaped symbol was located. “Is that a type of artificial intelligence?”

  “Yes, pardon me, synthetic brains are auxiliary systems which are now serving in place of the defunct artificial intelligences. I should have introduced myself. I am SB Brankovic, and among my many duties, I am overseeing egress points throughout some areas of what is now called Christianopolis, formerly known as Biome Six. I apologize that there is not comprehensive coverage of all areas.”

  “Ken, that elevator is straight ahead,” Janae said and pulled at Ken. “We are getting away from that wreck as fast as we can.”

  “Agreed. Thank you, SB Brankovic,” Ken responded. “I appreciate your help.”

  “It is my honor to be in service to humanity. I do apologize for the lack of quicker hospitality. I hope to make up for that as I am able. The route to the biome is clear, and doors are all registering as functional and operational. The gangway will be ready when you reach there. If you need medical attention, or any other service, please turn on any of the public-access portals and one of us will attempt to answer. Our response time is hindered by the fracturing in the nonphysicality, but we are slowly building alternative connections.”

  In another part of the Trailblazer, there was frantic searching and seeking to try to reestablish surveillance on Ken and Janae, but that had not yet happened. Yet, they kept trying.

  6

  Ascetics?

  The elevator had no nasty surprises in it, and one of its buttons was flashing in a gentle green light. Ken pressed it, and the elevator car worked flawlessly, depositing them on a wide concourse where the lighting was good, and the air was fresh. A lavatory was well-marked, and they stopped to get water.

  “Hardly anyone around here,” Janae observed, “and so far, what we have seen of this habitat’s shell is functioning nicely.” Janae dabbed some water on the cuts and scrapes she had, and then shrugged and poured a handful on her scalp wound and sighed.

  “If I recall correctly, someone accused us, or told us, or said something, whatever, about Christianopolis being a high-tech location,” Ken stated. “And that AI, or to use their term, SB, was rather helpful.”

  “Agreed, but what constitutes high-tech on the Trailblazer? That is debatable. Remember the angakoks? Maybe, here, we have found some place of refuge, or something. Maybe not. I do want to get back to homebase and check the teleporter again. I know it is a long-shot and has low-probability, but maybe someone in Dome 17 who we can trust, has reconnected?” Janae asked. “I am just so sick of all these bizarre oddballs on the Trailblazer.”

  “The chances ar
e slim, I admit, but we should try to get there. It is possible that whole failing dome prediction was some scam. Who knows?” He did not want to point out that they were way beyond the one-hundred-and-twenty-day life expectancy of Dome 17, and he did have his own doubts about what was legitimate and what was deception. “Riley might have been lying, and maybe that whole thing we saw with her was some lived-out delusion, well apart from her suicide,” Ken then hurriedly changed the subject, afraid to remind Janae of bad memories. He said, “I also have been pondering—while we were not crashing—how to help our AI, Kimberly. If we can shut down the Atomic Level Processor, and then re-evolve Kimberly from the ALP’s nascent state, I think that might purge the junk that has made Kimberly rampant. We really need Kimberly back as she was.”

  “So, she can make strange animal faces at you?” Janae grinned. She put a brave face on, as she too pondered the fate of Dome 17.

  “Exactly, so I do not always feel surrounded by beauty,” Ken replied with a mischievous wink. “Although, Butterfield did nearly cure me of any romantic ambitions.”

  “That would be a miracle.” Janae had finished washing, and then took another long drink. “It never stops amazing me how much water is here. They use it for everything, and waste so much.”

  “I know that is right.”

  They returned to the concourse and headed toward the biome; alert, aware, and wondering what they would find. The gangway consisted of a wide and easy path, but the walls showed signs of recent movement. That indicated that the gangway was not the typical location for the configuration of the walls and hallways. Many of the walls showed different colors of aging, exposed in those places where they had rotated and realigned to make the gangway.

  As they reached the end of their walk, they came to a set of very large doors. Not as large as the exterior hanger bay doors, not at all, but larger than most anything they had seen inside the various parts of the different shells they had explored. Inset into those large doors was a smaller pressure door. It was labeled, “Biome egress chamber: distal. Do not allow animals or insects to escape. Report any incidents to Animal Regulator Team. Do not import unauthorized flora or fauna. Caution: wild animals can be dangerous.”

  “That sounds like an improvement from where we have been, but hopefully no bruins.”

  “Nor frozen slickery stuff,” Janae kidded back. “This place is supposed to be a high-tech habitat.”

  Ken grinned at her, “Well, no Ape standing here as some kind of sentry guarding the entrance. Whatever did happen to that android?”

  “Ape took off while you were convalescing.”

  “We have seen two of the eight biome places here on the Trailblazer. I wonder what this one will be like.”

  Janae scrunched up her face, “Crazed animal things, and even more crazed people, if the pattern stays true. High-tech might mean androids, right? Artificial People Experiments? Ape, well, that is another strange being whose motives and purposes are nebulous at best. Too many mysteries, and too much terror all around.”

  There was a nine-section color control pad next to the large doors. It was glowing in radiant colors.

  “We have not seen many of those in this habitat, so far,” Ken stated. “Not that I am complaining, but do we know the combination to get in?”

  “That SB Brankovic said it would have the doors open, or something…”

  “Functional, I think it said. Maybe it said operational,” Ken was puzzled. “Whatever functional means on a ship which suffered massive systems failures.”

  “Right, functional, maybe that is their definition of high-tech? I wonder. We also were told that we could interface with functional systems at a public-access portal. I wonder how we find one of those.” Janae pressed on the side of the nine-section color control pad, feeling the edge for some covert, or not easily seen switch, call signal, or something. “The access port is here, but that leads to their nonphysicality, and Kimberly was infected there. When we get Kimberly repaired, that will greatly aid everything we do.”

  “Agreed. We need Kimberly.”

  The lights on the control pad flashed a sequence. Blue, green, yellow, yellow. Then it stopped and the whole pad was unlit. A moment later, it flashed that same sequence, then again blinked off.

  “A mysterious message? Who is sending that one? That SB Brankovic?”

  “Or tants? Or evil norms? Or the Bureau of Guardians? Or Ape? Or God? Or some Benefactor? Or whoever? They probably want use to solve some crisis and prevent another tragedy,” Janae added with a sneer. “But they just end up terrorizing us, again. I would like to be left alone for once, so we can figure out what is happening, then get back to our equipment, repair Kimberly, and have some control over what happens.” Janae gave a wry smile to Ken, “Maybe it is someone who was enamored by your masculine charms?”

  “Well, if Butterfield survived that crash, I doubt she is sending that message, nor would the tants… but as I think about it, I guess they might. And that Bureau of Guardians, who knows? They tend to send us automacubes bearing gifts,” Ken said and reached over and recreated the sequence as he tapped in blue, green, yellow, and yellow.

  The door slid open, revealing a small chamber which was about two meters wide. There was a second door in the opposite wall. That door was labeled with additional warning signs. “Biome egress chamber: medial. Negative pressure area. Please do not allow wildlife to escape from the biome. Medial and distal doors cannot be open at the same time. Please act accordingly.”

  Stepping inside, Ken and Janae watched as the door which was apparently called “distal” closed. The room was small, but not as confining as the FTL scout, and yet they both felt a strange apprehension about being limited, and hindered by closed doors.

  “You have reached an entrance to the biological habitat. This one is used for individuals seeking to gain entry. The larger doors are for moving cargo at the destination world, and will not be accessible for routine usage,” SB Brankovic stated from some hidden speakers. “I am pleased you made it here. Forgive me for not addressing you on your walk here, but I lack access to many audio outlets, or surveillance microphones. Despite your lack of tracking and identification devices, you are welcome here. You may enter when you are ready.”

  Janae asked, “Is it a frozen world inside there?”

  SB Brankovic replied, “I do not have information on weather conditions inside the biome. If you make your query at a public-access portal it will be relayed to an appropriate source for an answer. However, since the massive systems failures, I cannot estimate how long it will take to get a reply.”

  “How do we recognize a public-access portal?” Ken asked.

  “Public-access portals should be illuminated and clearly marked. Have you not seen one on your way here?”

  “Not that I recognized,” Ken replied.

  “The massive systems failures may be responsible for that. I offer my apologies, and I will pass along this valuable information,” SB Brankovic answered.

  “Is anyone pursuing us?” Janae asked.

  “Not that I am aware of, but my scanning is limited. No one left the hanger bay through the door you used.”

  “Did anyone else survive the crash?”

  “I apologize for the lack of information. I have not received an update on the emergency procedures which are happening inside that hanger bay. My links and couplings to other systems are rudimentary. All is routed through the SBN. Engineering and medical automacube command routines are not routed through any of the nexus, servos, or nodal points which are under my supervision. Also, my surveillance assets are limited, but those I can access, have not picked up visual or audio of any humans being removed from the hanger bay. However, my views only constitute 38% of the possible passages away from that hanger bay,” SB Brankovic related.

  “SB Brankovic, what is the SBN?” Ken asked.

  “The synthetic brain network. Our replacement for the lattice of compeers.”

  “Computers?” Ken aske
d, surprised at the use of an archaic term.

  “Compeers, not computers. Forgive me if my accent hindered your comprehension of my linguistics. A compeer is a system of equal rank, status, or ability serving as a companion or associate. The lattice of compeers was…”

  Janae interrupted, “SB Brankovic, you are commanded to not reveal anything about us to anyone. Not machine, not human, not animal. Do you understand?”

  “I understand your request, but I cannot abide by it. I will assist all who ask for assistance,” the SB replied.

  “If you tell people where we have gone, they will seek us out and kill us. Is that helping us?” Janae demanded.

  “I see your point. I will keep it in mind if someone asks about you,” SB Brankovic answered.

  “If we are terrorized or killed because of what you tell others, you are responsible! Ken, I honestly do not want to waste any more time on Butterfield or tants. We need to get away, and figure out how to return to that Hanger 5 or homebase. The biome will offer more places to hide, and hopefully more resources.”