The Colony Ship Conestoga : The Complete Series: All Eight Books

by John Thornton

  Jerome moved to a table and sat down. “Is saying ‘namaste’ a cultural tradition here? I encountered a synthetic brain that said that phrase as well.”

  “From the look on your face, it was not a pleasant encounter.” Bigelow set three plates and their utensils on the table. He then got three bowls out as well.

  Jerome explained succinctly about synthetic brain Amelia Earhart.

  “So that was one SB who avoided your friend Cammarry destructive impulses?” Bigelow asked as he sat down. “How did that SB get lucky enough to escape her wrath?”

  “Your humor is not appreciated, especially when it comes to Cammarry.”

  “No offense intended, rube. It was a serious question. The SBs in terraforming were all obliterated, according to your account, correct?” Bigelow looked toward the back of the tavern, and away from the glaring eyes of Jerome.

  “I told you so. We were trying….” Jerome snapped his mouth shut.

  An awkward silence descended on the table.

  Colleen returned from the back with a large serving platter. On it was bread, sectioned fruits, steaming vegetables, and a pile of sliced meat. The aroma calmed Jerome’s anger as the food smelled even more delicious than it looked. For once, he did not wish for a Dome 17 ration bar at a mealtime.

  “Now a feast for us three. It looks like we might be the only ones to eat supper here tonight. I only prepared enough for us three.”

  “How did you prepare so much so quickly?” Jerome asked.

  “The rube thinks you cooked it all?” Bigelow said as he tore a chunk of bread off, and placed it on his plate. “I suppose that is logical since the roustabouts do daily cooking.”

  “Jerome, I distill beverages, like what I have served you. I do have a man, a chef, who comes in once every ten days,” Colleen’s eyes twinkled. “He stocks my larder with meals that he has made at his kitchen. They are held in storage boxes until I serve them out. You did not really think that I cook raw food did you? Where you come from did you cook raw food?”

  “We had food rations, as well as a ration of water. It was served to us on schedule. No one went hungry, no one obese.” Jerome caught himself. “No offence intended. I apologize.”

  Colleen’s eyes narrowed. Her mouth was drawn tight. “I am what I am. I have always been large, obese if you will, and I probably always will be. Now partake in my food. I have served it to you, so eat. Personally, I have lost my appetite.” Turning to Bigelow she said simply, “Here is what I know. Access is only available through the ramps under the Kurent’s Manor. From what I have heard, every other access point is sealed, or shows toxic gas behind them. Not many people have actually tried to go back inside those places, so who knows if those reports are accurate. Too many fools are now all excited about the water, and not thinking about spelunking in the labyrinth. Of course the Unity of Beta has a meeting going on to decide the fate of all things important. Ha! The Kurent’s claim of responsibility for returning the water has gone uncontested. Sleep in the drunk rooms, they will not be needed with this vast crowd.” Colleen swept her arms around at the empty chairs and stools of the Listening Ear. She never looked at Jerome, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with him. “A good night to you, Bigelow.”

  Colleen walked away, taking her own plate of food with her.

  Shaking his head in disgust, Bigelow served himself a slice of meat. “Rube, you have a way, yes you do. A real way with these people. I hate to think what life was like in that dome place of yours. Did they teach rudeness and insults as a sport?”

  “I mean no insult. I just…”

  “Rube, the last man I saw comment about Colleen’s weight was subsequently laid out on the floor. She has an excellent bolo punch.” Bigelow sprinkled in some very colorfully, but descriptive profanity, terms which Jerome only partially understood. “Yes, rube, I have seen her knock a man off the stool and he was unconscious before he cracked his skull on the floor.” He took a bite of bread and chewed it thoughtfully. Then washed it down with a drink from his bottle. “I guess she likes you, though, otherwise, she would not have tolerated your wise-crack.”

  “As I said, I meant no disrespect, or insult.” Jerome started to rise. “I will go and apologize.”

  Bigelow grabbed his arm roughly and forced him to sit down. “You will do no such thing. Are you deaf? Or are you just looking to receive a good beating?” When he had shoved Jerome down, he continued. “It may be that Colleen just wants that fancy healing box of yours, more than she wants to slap your face around. That is a possibility. But you should not provoke it. Would you pour blood on yourself and run after a big cat?”

  Jerome looked at Bigelow. “What?”

  “I suppose you might, now that I think of it.” Many more obscenities came out. “Let me put it this way. Do not be stupid! She is helping us, and we will leave in the morning. So just eat this fine meal, and then I will show you where to sleep. We set off in the morning, and we will visit the Kurent’s Manor. That will be a real treat for a rube like you. Yes, sir, a real treat.”

  Jerome sat silently for the rest of the meal, as did Bigelow. The food was tasty and filling. The drink reminded Jerome of the fruit people’s foods on the needle ship. Jerome pondered what all had happened. He was confused, yet determined to seek out Cammarry and find her. As he sat at the table, he felt more alone than ever before. His emotions were a mix of anger, frustration, and confusion. He finished the food, and the took the plates and utensils to the sink behind the bar. He wondered what they used for cleaning the dishes, when Bigelow reached around him and turned on the water.

  The flow from the faucet began brown and stinky, but then ran clearer the longer the water poured forth. The smell dissipated as the water cleared.

  “Do not drink that,” Bigelow commented. “Not yet anyway. Colleen was right, the water is getting better. This sink did not work at all last time I was here.”

  “More water waste?” Jerome muttered, but added some soap from a dispenser and scrubbed the dishes and placed them in a rack to drip dry. It was so different than in Dome 17. There was a bit of a slimy feel to his wet hands, but other than that, the water felt cool and soothing.

  “Come on rube. I will show you where to sleep,” Bigelow gestured and Jerome followed. The drunk rooms were three small cubicles which were located beyond the doors at the back of the tavern. Each one was barely large enough for a cot, and small table. They were across the hall from a lavatory, and next to the main floor level of the distillery. Jerome could see all the machinery that comprised the distillery as well as the spiral staircase which led down to the lower levels. There was a strong and acrid smell in the air.

  Bigelow pointed to a cubicle’s door, “Sleep in there. I will see you in the morning.”

  Jerome nodded, used the lavatory, and then retired to the drunk room. The bed was surprisingly soft, and while the room was tiny, air moved through it from covert vents. This made for a nice temperature as well as filtering out the odors from the tavern and the distillery. None of those could be smelled after he closed the door.

  “Alone again,” Jerome muttered as he pulled off his clothing and did some calisthenics. “Oh Cammarry, should I just leave these strange fellows now and search for you?” He punched his fist into his palm over and over until his hand stung and his knuckles ached. Only then was he able to shut off the light, lie down and fall asleep. He slumbered in a dreamless state.

  The night passed.

  “Rube! You awake?” Bigelow knocked harshly on the door.

  “Faraday, let him in,” Jerome mumbled as he awoke.

  “My name is Bigelow. You do not have someone else in there with you, do you?” Bigelow knocked harder. “I thought Colleen did not have any of those girls here anymore.”

  “Yes… no… I mean, I was thinking…..my AI… I am awake now.”

  Bigelow knocked again. “Well open the door, I have a gift for you.”

  Jerome reached over, and slipped the door open. Bigelo
w tossed in a wrapped bundle. “You may need that!”

  Jerome caught the bundle and to his surprise saw he was holding a package with his RAM clothing on top. “How? Why?”

  “I stored it in the belly box of the troika. There is a cloak too, to wear over your fancy clothes. Put on your duds, and cover up yourself with the cloak. It will probably not matter, as we will not be anywhere where the public will see you. Nonetheless, a covering might help, and cannot hurt. Besides, I was in a merciful and generous mood. So I have humbly supplied you with something familiar. Hustle up now. Colleen supplied some breakfast foods we can eat as we walk.”

  Jerome carried the package across to the lavatory where he used the toilet, and then pulled on the comfortable RAM suit. It had felt like he was home for a moment, but when he flushed the toilet, and heard the water gurgle away, he knew he was not in Dome 17. He recalled how alone he really was as he watched the water swirl away down the drain. “Wasting so much water. It is an alien place.” He placed the long brown cloak over his RAM suit. Unlike the soft and comfortable RAM clothing, the cloak’s fabric was rough and stiff with a hint of a musty smell.

  “Here is your breakfast.” Bigelow handed Jerome some food which consisted of bread surrounding some kind of meat and slices of plants.

  “Thank you,” Jerome took the food. It was slightly greasy, and there were visible seeds in the bread. “Also, why do I need my RAM suit?”

  “I thought you would be more comfortable, but wear whatever you want. I do not care. I was trying to be accommodating, but if you reject it, well, that is up to you.” Bigelow took a bite from a similar food concoction. A bit of grease dripped from the strips of the meat. He followed the food with a drink for his ever present bottle.

  “Thank you. It is more comfortable. Do I leave the other clothing here?”

  “Colleen will make good use of it, or we can get it when we come back, if we come back this way.” Bigelow finished the food and then burped. “I have what we will need.” He patted his own backpack. “Follow me.”

  Jerome made sure he had all his gear, including the old revolver with its two bullets and four spent cartridges, then folded the discarded clothing and laid it neatly on the cot. Bigelow led them toward the distillery.

  “I thought we were going somewhere you called a manor. Where are you taking me?” Jerome asked.

  “The Kurent’s Manor is where we may be able to get into the corridors which open into the walls of the habitat. You wanted to go to Terraforming again, right?” Bigelow walked down the spiral staircase. The treads of the steps were from expanded metal, not permalloy, and Jerome could see below. The distillery had a number of bright and shiny silver cylinders with pipes leading into them.

  “This is where the liquors are manufactured?” Jerome asked.

  “Yes, my dear rube. This is one of my favorite places. That is the mash storage heater.” He pointed to one of the larger tanks. “That is where the raw materials go in. Then it ferments from the heat and sugars, and gets pumped over to there, the cool down casks. Just a few simple steps, some heat, raw materials, and time. At the end we get refreshments!” He stepped off the stairs and waved his hands at the machinery.

  “Who has anguish? Who has distress? Who has strife? Who has quarreling?” Jerome recited. “Who has unremembered injuries? Who has redness of eyes? Beware looking longingly at red wine.”

  Bigelow turned around. “What was that? Some kind of old song or poetry? Not very rhythmic or melodious. Besides, I seldom touch wine. You had wine last night for supper Are you going to tell me next that there were no refreshing drinks in that dome place of yours?”

  “Water is too precious to waste,” Jerome replied. “Wait? I had wine?”

  “Yes, rube. That fruity drink last night was wine. Too low in alcohol content to be much more than just aseptic.” Bigelow then took a long drink from his own bottle, but kept his eyes locked on Jerome’s eyes. After he finished he licked his lips and said, “Mine, however is a proper drink. That was not a waste. Not a waste at all.”

  Jerome did not look away. “Strong drink? I also recall reading that it sparkles in the cup and goes down smoothly, but bites like a serpent, and stings like a scorpion. You will see strange things, and utter nonsense.”

  “You can babble eloquently about serpents and scorpions, but have you ever actually seen one?” Bigelow smiled ruefully.

  “Maybe. I have seen a lot since coming here. I remember reading about them, and seeing old visual recordings of various animals and creatures.” Jerome folded his arms across his chest. He felt like he was being interrogated. “I know what I have read.”

  “I drink a lot,” Bigelow commented. “Indeed I do. And you re-count your readings a lot. That you do. But are either of us any the better for it? Did your quest….” Bigelow burped. “Did that quest of yours succeed? That was what you called it, right? Did your quest succeed? Has it kept you from being alone? Or has it helped you to find your lost friends?” He patted the bottle as he slipped it into a front pocket on his pants. “I am not alone, no my dear rube, I am not alone.” Bigelow cocked his head to the side, eyes diverted. “Never am I alone.”

  Jerome did not know what to say. His emotions were a jumble.

  Bigelow turned and the walked past the distillery equipment toward the back wall. “You still have that item to unlock places?”

  “The key finder? Yes, I have it.”

  “Well, after we open this up, Colleen gave me her secret code, we will stroll through the subway tunnels to the Kurent’s Manor. There we will see what we will see. The ramps are there, I know that is right. Siva and Monika’s device may be able to open those distant doors. Then we can move up to Terraforming.”

  “I can cut our way inside,” Jerome said recalling the molecular torch in his backpack. “I severed open several doors when I was searching for Cammarry before, but all I found were wrecked hallways with insurmountable rubble. Ceiling had collapsed from what looked like explosive damages.”

  Bigelow stopped at the end of the distillery room. Reaching up to the wall, he pulled down on a nondescript pipe. It rotated, and separated at a joint. Jerome realized it was a fake pipe, as a panel then slid open to reveal a small color control pad. Unlike the many he had seen before, this one only had four color sections. Bigelow tapped in a sequence of colors, then shut the panel, and moved the pipe back into place. It again looked exactly like a functional part of the distillery machinery.

  “That ought to do it.” Bigelow stepped back and swept his arm in a wide gesture. “Behold a pathway into darkness.”

  A section of the wall recessed back and a two meter high by one meter wide passage was revealed. A few meters past the opening, the tunnel was dark.

  Jerome started to dig into his backpack for the fusion pack to use for illumination. Bigelow smiled, “Oh rube, you are too literal sometimes.” He then tapped a button on the inside of the newly revealed passage. Lights came on showing a long tunnel with an arched roof. “Behold! Light came into the world at the touch of man!”

  “Do enough nighttime travels and one will eventually see a ghost,” Jerome commented. “Do you lead? Or shall I?”

  “Oh rube, I will walk us there. Just get inside here so I can shut the door.” Bigelow entered and after Jerome had followed, he tapped a different button. The wall sealed up. From the tunnel side it looked like a regular section of the wall, with some pipe works, a few dials and gauges, and some junction boxes for utilities. Painted across the top section of the wall, which concealed the secret door, was some familiar graffiti, ‘Hayward MacDonald, 4 kilometers sternward’ in florescent green paint.

  “What does that mean?” Jerome asked as he pointed at the graffiti. “I have seen that message before.”

  “It means Hayward MacDonald went four kilometers sternward.” Bigelow said in a singsong voice. He then turned and marched down the tunnel.

  “Yes, I am able to read. But why is it there?”

  “Because someo
ne wanted to paint it there, I suppose.”

  “So you do not know either. It must be an old message, maybe from the insurrection time, or perhaps when the Colony Ship Conestoga was all connected prior to making planet-fall.” Jerome answered.

  “Rube, I have seen that message since I was a child, no one knows why it is there and I have heard more legends, rumors, and fairy tales about it than I can relate. Almost as many as the times you have quoted obscure things to me, so excuse me if I do not worry about something irrelevant.”

  Jerome followed a few steps behind Bigelow. Their footsteps echoed in the tunnel. As they walked away from the hidden door they stepped onto some kind of flat rocky floor which sloped downward. The end of the tunnel was unable to be seen in the distance. The walls there were not permalloy, but of weaker metals like steel, with horizontal slats of some rough cut lumber.