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

by John Thornton

  “Do not talk to me like that,” Cammarry snapped back. “I do not deserve your condescending….”

  “Come on, you were the one with that Shadow implant, and if I had not come after you, you would still be trapped in the Special Care unit. Does no one understand any of this?” Jerome’s voice was louder than Monika had ever heard it. “Why do I keep trying with you?” He pointed a finger at Cammarry who just turned and marched away.

  “It is not only me that has reservations about your aggressive militaristic plans. The synthetic brains, SB Bodowa, SB Yomaris, and SB Sherman, have expressed deep misgivings,” Sandie stated. “However; Jerome, this conversation is taking a very ugly turn and we can discuss it better after you have taken some time for reflection, and perhaps a physical workout. We cannot be successful if we turn on each other. I suggest that you…”

  “Some AI you have turned out to be,” Jerome snarled in anger. “You would rather be in conference with some antique lattice with obsolete systems, than work with me. You missed the Shadow implant. You refuse to connect the dots and see how the Crocks are the enemy here. And you take Eris’s side every single time I bring up anything about the habitats on the planet’s surface. I am just trying to design a weapon system that will push the Crocks back and away. So just do what I say and have the parts fabricated so we can get the orbital bomb made.”

  “Jerome?” Monika hesitantly asked as she reached into her carry-bag. “Perhaps a break is needed. I have something that…”

  “What could you have?” Jerome turned on Monika as well. “Some horse’s bridle? Or a seat for some merry-go-round? I ordered the parts you wanted for your carousel, and they were made, even though much more important things are needed. What do you need now? More parts for your big toy?”

  Monika blew out a long stream of air. She then took several deep breaths and tried again. “Jerome, I know the stress here has been bad. All of the exiles who escaped from Beta are dealing with this new place, so I understand what you are enduring. You and I should sit down and talk. I do have something for you, and some important news. Therefore, I believe…”

  Jerome waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I came from Earth; I am not from Beta. I do not need some indigenous person to tell me how to conduct the rescue of the Conestoga. Not Cammarry, not Sandie, not that child Eris, and not you.” He turned around and walked off. “Now Sandie, forget about the kid Eris. Again I order you to process those weapon parts to be made in Alpha’s Reproduction and Fabrication….”

  Monika’s indignation flared up. She marched over to Jerome and pulled his shoulder, turning him around. She grabbed the com-link off his ear and stared into his face. He began to speak, but she put her hand over his mouth. “The way you are acting, I am not sure I even want you involved after my baby is born, even though you are the father.”

  3 rebuilding a lattice

  Far on the other end of the needle ship, Eris was squatting down next to the central memory core of the synthetic brain, Cotard. She was wearing a Conestoga personal engineering suit which one of the blue automacubes had recovered for her. Strapped to her belt was the RSW Model 10: Officer Edition sidearm. The other pockets, pouches, and compartment on the engineer’s suit were filled with the correct tools and other gear she needed for her job. She was using a neutrino flow detector, cabled into her conservation slate. The display on the slate was showing the current conditions of the central memory core. It was less than marginal.

  The blue liquid in the middle of the clear permalloy center column was only bubbling ever so slightly. The bubbles moved up and down past the brass rings with excruciating slowness. The rhombus at the center was properly aligned, and the energy conduits were connected into all the appropriate places, but the central memory core was not responding as it should.

  After making another adjustment, she asked, “SB Cotard? Can you hear me? Please respond.” Eris prayed that this time there would be a response.

  The bubbling in the central memory core did not waver or alter. The clear permalloy was unmarred. The blue fluid was where thought originated, which was reflected in the vitality, or in this case, the lack of vitality of the bubbling. Eris rubbed the side of the column. She looked over the complex mechanism yet again. The horizontal brass rings surrounding the column were bright and shiny, a vast difference from the surrounding area. The large room where Eris had installed SB Cotard’s central memory core had a floor that was covered with mushrooms, fungi, and other foliage living in the growth medium. Nearly the whole floor was coated by that pale greenish covering. It was over most every horizontal surface in the Gallery of Memory Cores. The biologicals which had been superimposed on the architecture hid the Sacred Pythagorean Geometry, as well as the utility connections, so that all that remained was a lumpy field of broken artificial intelligence platforms.

  “Oh well, I will take it all apart and tote it back to Navigation and Astrogation,” Eris said with some despair. “I should have not tried to connect in a synthetic brain to the bases for artificial intelligences. They just are not compatible.” She then tapped her com-link. “Sandie? Are we on a secure channel?”

  “Yes, Captain Eris,” Sandie replied. “As you instructed, all our conversations will be private until you inform me otherwise. How is the recovery of SB Cotard progressing?”

  “That is why I called to you. Despite all my efforts, I think that this place really is a graveyard for dead minds, to quote our friend Khin.”

  “He does have rather evocative titles given to the places he knows,” Sandie responded. “So my conjecture of only a 27% possibility of making the compatibility proved to be correct. Will you now be trying a different location for installation?”

  “Yes. The internal energy storage is adequate,” Eris said as she reviewed a different part with her conservation slate. “So that was not a factor. The linkages to the lattice here are just not congruent. The neutrinotronic conduit tubes mostly rely on toneribite insulation to protect them. The thermionic and osmotic emission of neutrinos from a hot strand should never be in proximity to the cryonic channels. But beneath this whole area that has been breached. There are cathodes which are melted away, or fried off. The photovoltaics, however, are scrambled with pseudo-electric effects. There were even some gas-filled tubes at low pressure, which exploited the damages and left residue everywhere. It is a jumbled mess. The insurgents were ruthless in their destruction here. I probed down along the conduits which fed the artificial intelligences and even five meters from this dais, there were scorching residues, breeches, and even some gravitonic rips. They must have poured acids down those conduits, or perhaps put an incendiary gel inside those, then forced power into it. That prevented SB Cotard’s central memory core from establishing any meaningful feedback loops. Perhaps, the insurgents used a corrosive gas and pumped it in under pressure, after they severed off the AIs memory cores? It makes me sick to think of all the time, effort, and resources they put into destruction. I can account for no other method of ruining the internal works so thoroughly.”

  “I am sure you did your best in that installation,” Sandie answered. “The engineering automacubes served you well I hope?”

  “Yes. Thank you for having the new ones built for me. The ones in remote parts of the needle ship are rebuilding and restoring as we planned. I will now set the ones here to the task of carefully removing SB Cotard’s central memory core and taking it to that locker next to SB Pinaka’s. It will be tight there, but I believe that is our only other option.” Eris again prayed that something would work to allow SB Cotard to come back into a functional state. “Before we locate any other people in suspended animation, we need a medically oriented synthetic brain. SB Cotard is our only hope for that.”

  “The only one we have located so far,” Sandie said encouragingly. “I have been working with your lattice of compeers in searching for the habitats and where they made planet-fall. Only Alpha, Beta, and Gamma are known precisely.”

  “Well, if I
can… no scratch that, when I get SB Cotard installed and operational, that should relieve some of the stress on the lattice. I dream of linking in additional systems, and that will build on itself in an upward spiral of functionality. I have still been wondering if there was a way to bridge the tiny lattice here on the needle ship with that small lattice you connect to in Alpha. I know you ran conjectures on that, which showed only a low potential for success, but I am worried about overextending you. You are the only one capable of fast enough processing to make the connections needed to interact with Alpha’s systems. If you are overtaxed, we will all suffer.”

  Sandie replied happily. “I appreciate your concern, Captain Eris, but it is very unlikely that my capabilities will be overextended. I am in no way perfect, but so far all my abilities are coping well.”

  “So everything is flowing smoothly? Except for my inability to restore SB Cotard?” Eris asked. She bit her lip after asking the question.

  Sandie’s AI voice turned somber. “I do have an unresolved issue about my initial mission. We found the Conestoga, although experiencing the Cosmic Crinkle did ruin our chances for the teleportation of the Dome 17 personnel. In that regard the mission was a failure. The secondary goal, of founding a new home for Jerome and Cammarry has been met. They are settled into a relatively safe environment. The needle ship is in a stable orbit. The food processors I had made in Alpha’s Reproduction and Fabrication, and placed near the teleporters have supplied them with a consistent and nutritious supply of nourishment. And they have established a working relationship with the people on the needle ship.”

  Eris put her tools down and asked, “Then what is the worry?”

  “Have I completed my mission to them? They are suffering significant interpersonal conflict,” Sandie replied. “Additionally, it seems I have been a failure in my efforts to save the Dome 17 population, and I failed in protecting Beta by my inability to analyze and counteract the gravity sink hole phenomena. I believe I should have been able to overcome the mystery of the Cosmic Crinkle, and the riddle of the gravity sink holes, and now I have not been able to give you the solution to the problem of the installation of SB Cotard’s central memory core. I am failing more than succeeding, and I wonder if I am fundamentally flawed in some manner that I am unable to detect.”

  “Sandie, none of the things you are blaming yourself about are truly your fault,” Eris stated. “I should know how to reinstall the central memory core; after all it was my idea. I knew the established protocol advised against movement of any central memory core after the synthetic brains are activated and sentient. I chose to try anyway. As to those gravity sink holes, I cannot identify their cause, or a way to counteract them either. And that Cosmic Crinkle, well, I have reviewed what you experienced and I have no idea what that was. It is as alien to me, more in fact, than the planet Zalia down below us and its own enigmatic ecosystem.” Eris was unsure how much more to explain, or rationalize, or justify. She prayed for wisdom. “Sandie, basically you are doing the best that you can, and you are not God.”

  “You are correct, I am not a deity, however, that does not excuse my missing the Shadow implant in Cammarry, nor does it alleviate the fact that I cannot explain what all we have seen,” Sandie answered. “I am conflicted in my agenda. For example, I have withheld the information about your recovery of the central memory core from Jerome and Cammarry. Is that a violation of their trust? I am not…” Sandie’s voice cut off abruptly.

  “Sandie? What is the problem?” Eris asked.

  There was no response.

  “SB Pinaka, answer me immediately!” Eris commanded.

  “I am here, Captain Eris. How may I be of service?” SB Pinaka replied through the com-link.

  “Sandie just quit speaking to me right in the middle of a sentence. What do you make of that?”

  “Assessing. Assessing. I am much slower than Sandie, however, I detect no malfunction,” SB Pinaka stated. “All my connections to the artificial intelligence Sandie are in the same configuration as before. I can offer no reason why Sandie would behave as you described. I must remind you, my systems are inadequate for the tasks I am currently doing, and the advanced technology of Sandie makes any judgment of mine subject to incorrect interpretation.”

  “Thank you. Continue to monitor what is happening as best you can,” Eris replied. “I will try to contact Cammarry or Jerome and ask them what has happened.”

  Sandie’s voice came back. “There is no need to converse with Jerome or Cammarry. I am back now. I was in the middle of a conversation with them while I was speaking to you. An unexpected visitor, not a threat in the conventional sense, arrived at their domicile. She bore news which I need to attend to immediately. Please excuse me for a bit while I give them my full attention. If you have an emergency situation, please summon me and I will attend to you. Please pardon this unforeseen development.”

  “Certainly. Is there anything I can do to help?” Eris asked.

  “I will keep you appraised as I am able. This situation involves very private matters, and I am not sure of all the facts yet.” Sandie’s voice was more conflicted than Eris had ever heard. It sounded so very human, Eris had to remind herself that Sandie was indeed an artificial intelligence system.

  4 paternity

  Cammarry came walking back out. “What is going on?” She demanded.

  Monika looked at her, then at Jerome, and feeling the presence of the book in her carry-bag, she patted it and left it in place. She then spoke, “This is not how I imagined this would go. That was not the way I wanted to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” Cammarry walked toward her.

  “I am pregnant,” Monika said simply, but she looked at Jerome as she did.

  “Uh, well… a traditional reply might be, congratulations.” Jerome struggled with what to say, then he recited, remembering the elderly man Lloyd, “Children are essential to the success of the mission of the Conestoga.”

  “I thought you should be the first to know,” Monika stated simply.

  “Did you say something about Jerome playing the role of father?” Cammarry asked. Her arms were folded across her breasts, and her voice was tight. “Or did I misunderstand what was being said. I was in the other room.”

  Jerome turned to Cammarry, “There are lots of old-time folk customs about god-parents, or guardians, or something ceremonial.” He turned back to Monika. “Right now is not a good time for rituals, Sandie is refusing to build the necessary weapons so we can defend the other habitats against the Crocks. I appreciate the gesture and thought, but perhaps you need to look to someone else who knows your aboriginal customs and rites. Now if you will excuse me.”

  Monika’s face fell. Then her countenance hardened. “Having the father involved in a child’s life is not some aboriginal custom, or ritual. In pregnancy, it begins with two bodies, one inside the other. That connection continues when the baby is conceived. The two make a third. A baby is something a mother carries inside her for nine months. Both parents then carry that child in their arms for years, and a parent’s mind and spirit loves that child all the rest of your life.”

  “That has nothing to do with me,” Jerome said. “I wish you the very best for your baby, and for yourself, but I fail to see why you are asking me to be involved.”

  “Jerome, she is saying you are the father!” Cammarry nearly shouted. She then blew out a deep breath. Then a knowing look crossed her face. Turning to Monika she stated sympathetically, “Is choosing an adoptive, or replacement father a way of coping when the actual father is lost? I can understand how hard the loss of Beta was, so many people died. So many roustabouts were killed. The baby’s father must have died back there, and I can see how lost, alone, and isolated you must feel being here on the needle ship. I am so sorry for your loss.”

  Monika shook her head. “Jerome is the father.”

  “Impossible,” Cammarry stated simply. “That is just impossible.”

  “Right,” Jerome add
ed. “In Dome 17 everyone is sterilized at age fifteen.”

  Cammarry whirled on Jerome. “What does that have to do with this? It is impossible for you to be the father, right?”

  “Right.” Jerome nodded, but backed away a bit. He did not meet Cammarry’s glaring eyes.

  “Jerome,” Monika said softly. “It is you. It is impossible for you to not be the father.”

  Cammarry’s eye grew wide and she just stared at Monika, who met her gaze and held the eye contact.

  Jerome stepped between the two women. “It is impossible for me to be the father. No one in Dome 17 is a father or a mother in the sense you mean. No one ever gets pregnant, so something else is happening here.”

  “It is not a virgin birth,” Monika replied, still staring at Cammarry. “So Jerome do not quote some old religious text and offer that as a possibility.”