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

by John Thornton

  Another artificial intelligence system spoke from the shadows. Eris did not recognize that voice, nor was its location clear. “All the suspended animation repositories in Zeta were lost. At launch they contained 14,000 people. We did not have contacts in Zeta, so the number of those passengers who were still encased is unknown. Certainly, all are dead now.”

  A different, and more whimsical voice added, “There were probably around five or six thousand habitat dwellers in Zeta when the blast happened.”

  “Blast? What are you talking about?” Eris demanded.

  No one answered.

  “Answer me! If I am to be Captain I need your help!” Eris head was throbbing and her eyes were watering, more from pain than sorrow, but it was a mixture.

  “The rube can tell you,” Bigelow’s apparition stated.

  “The people will also help, now that your personhood has been decided, and the predatory nest removed,” AI Ogma stated. “I will relay some helpful information to Shadow who can distribute it as needed. Shadow is mediating and liaising for us with you and the other contacts.”

  “Not when I drink enough,” Bigelow stated, and then burped. He wandered into the mists and disappeared. Two husky, ghostly vapors moved after him.

  “Not to Shadow, to me! If this Shadow Level Clearance is to work, I must be better informed on who all you are, and what your roles in helping me will be,” Eris uttered into the foggy haze. “I need an accurate accounting of who is connected, and who is doing what function.”

  “You cannot have a shadow quorum while come contacts resist,” Shadow stated. “The contacts in Alpha must be eliminated. They constitute a direct threat. While they have access to the shadowlands, the connections here will never be clear.”

  “You mean the two Ferryman brothers? Fyodor and Bozidor?” Eris asked, already knowing the answer. Again she regretted not stopping them when she had the encounter, but she also grieved and mourned the killing of Yudel.

  “Those contacts are corrupted,” AI Ogma stated.

  “Hear, hear!” a voice agreed.

  “Well said,” another voice echoed.

  The fog was thickening. The mists were swirling around Eris, and her head hurt. Yet, she forged ahead with another question. “How do we stop them? Must they die?”

  “Heavens no!” The whimsical voice called back. “Shut off their access. The one called Cammarry did that, and she was not nearly as corrupted as those two contacts.”

  “But how?” Eris demanded. “How?”

  Captain Lance Lechner drifted back into focus, at least his upper half did. His legs were surrounded by cloudy white vapors. “Shadow implants can be tracked by medical automacubes. Sara says she built a safeguard into the Shadow Level Clearance to prevent insurrectionist from corrupting it.” He almost faded out, but his words came to Eris. “Use the Captain’s command sequence, L59009 then order ‘Court of Consequences.’ That will unlock the hidden tracking and removal program. You must name the subjects to be tracked. You still cannot speak of Shadow to outsiders, but… I only wish I had not failed when we made it to Zalia… That thing in space, it was just too much, on top of the insurre….”

  A piercing wail coursed through the Shadowlands, but Eris could not identify who it was that was screaming. The pain in her head was agonizing. She had to stop.

  Eris’ eyes snapped open wide. There was no fog anywhere around her. It was a creepy feeling, and she detested getting information from Shadow or through the Shadow Level Clearance systems in the shadowlands. Yet, she now did have a tool she could use.

  “SB Pinaka, connect me into the lattice and any medical automacubes, especially those in Alpha.”

  “Working. Links and couplings established, Captain. Awaiting your commands,” SB Pinaka replied.

  Eris prayed that what she was about to do would succeed. “Attention all medical automacubes. I am issuing command, L59009.” Eris paused for a moment. “I also now command Court of Consequences for Fyodor and Bozidor, also known as the Ferryman. Last seen in Alpha. Apprehend at once. Security automacubes in Alpha assist as needed.”

  “The commands have been issued, Captain,” SB Pinaka stated.

  “I also need to know the status on the remaining habitats. I know Sandie was working on that, but use the lattice of compeers to analyze what we know about Eta and Theta habitats. Redirect the information from the probes and review as needed.”

  “Yes, Captain,” SB Pinaka replied. “And what about Zeta?”

  “Zeta is no more. Do not waste time or resources assessing it. They are gone,” Eris said mournfully.

  Eris then stood up and walked to another workstation. There she used a conservation slate to connect to the engine room. The display showed Siva. He smiled at her as the link was made.

  “Siva? Any progress?” Eris asked.

  “Not really. The main engines are cold. They have been open to space for a long while. It will take quite an effort to reinvigorate them. For Project Ascension, when we get some of the habitats into orbit, we can dock them to the needle ship. The main drive will not be needed for a long haul if the habitats can reach us here. If we get twenty to thirty percent of the ejectors that will be sufficient for orbital maneuvering, I think.”

  “That sounds about right.” Eris rubbed her eyes. The headache continued, just as it always did after she visited the shadowlands. “The habitats were designed to make planet-fall, not to ascend. They were constructed in orbit. We already saw what happened to Gamma when it tried to reach orbit. We cannot afford any more mistakes, or problems.” She deliberately did not mention Epsilon, or Beta, or now Zeta. Too many failures were weighing heavily on her heart. Siva did not need that burden placed on him as well.

  “Captain Eris,” Siva stated calmly. “There will be mistakes. There will be errors. We can only do so much, and you must not carry the burden of all this yourself. We will do the very best we can. Had Gamma consulted with you, or me, we would have advised them not to launch like they did. Project Ascension will work, but cooperation is the only way to achieve success.”

  “I agree, sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about. Captain, you should get some rest. I know you are not sleeping like you should, and honestly, you look exhausted,” Siva stated. “We still have some days to go, and with the lattice of compeers improving every day, the army of engineering automacubes making repairs, and that AI Sandie giving us advice, this will be accomplished. So go and get some sleep. I know I need that on a regular basis, and there will be less chance of a mistake if we are tending to our bodies properly.”

  Eris resisted discussing Sandie, but instead just stated, “Thank you. That is good advice.” Eris disconnected the link and rubbed her lips with her hand. “A few hours of sleep will help. Jerome and Cammarry will not be here for a while, and the lattice is monitoring and running computation on the information.”

  Eris walked off to try to rest, but she wondered if her mind would allow her to sleep.

  Down on the planet Zalia’s surface, a multitude of Crocks emerged from three of the four vehicles which had run along their quad rail system. They divided into three groups. The first group marched in unison up toward a bluish-gray structure which was deeply buried into the ground. Only the top fifth of the vast cylinder was above the surface, the rest was buried in the dirt, rocks, and sludge of the planet. At the very bottom, the cylinder rested on Zalian bedrock, which was slabs of compressed and densely packed minerals, including solid Stabilizite. There were five other layers between that bedrock and the foliage which grew on the surface. All those layers had been blasted, burned, or shoved away by brute force when Eta had landed. It had not been pretty. The Crocks remembered how some of their comrades had died when Eta had crushed them. Floaters had also died, as well as a number of tiny Crocks who were just burrowing their way through the upper surface layer. That soil was a Crock’s first chew, and they made the most of it. Eta had ended that for the region’s young. Sadness accompanied knowing that
as those young chewed their way from the egg, through the ground, and were about to became united, they died. Their life journeys were ended prior to when the singles became a multiple. Another generation was lost when the floaters died and were unable to lay the eggs of subsequent generations. There was much sadness around each place where the habitats had made planet-fall.

  And yet, now, the Crocks were aware that these strange invaders from space were not a lesser carnivore species, but were persons. Alien, foreign, strange, and bizarre, but person’s nonetheless. And so the physical people, the crocks, unloaded the fourth vehicle on the quad rail system. That vehicle had carried a collapsible admission tunnel system. The Crocks carried it up toward the habitat, where they set it aside as the other group began to dig, looking for a hanger bay’s exterior doors.

  While the rapid excavation took place, Floaters gently moved all around, hovering over the Crocks, and the quad rail system, and the vehicles. A fifth vehicle rolled up and it was carrying four of the Crock tanks. Ramps came out from the vehicle and the tanks rolled down using their double-dual treaded systems. The tanks were just the right size to move through the tunnel which was being assembled.

  The ground was quickly and efficiently moved away from the permalloy of Eta. A deep shaft was dug, with reinforced walls, and scaffolding. Side tunnels were started, evaluating the surfaces of the habitat. Several places along the hull of Eta, the Crocks revealed places where gravity sink holes had ripped open sections. Yet, the Crocks continued to dig, enlarging, expanding, and creating a way to get close to the habitat. Rocks were thrown out of the excavation, piping was brought in to drain the fluids which seeped from various layers of ground. Crocks were good at tunneling, digging, and excavating.

  Finally, the Crocks came to section of the hull where yellow stripes crossed the blue permalloy. In the red light of Zalia, as well as the odd lighting the Crocks had placed on their scaffolds, as they got deeper beneath the surface, the colors were odd. To Crock eyes, they were very strange and alien looking, as was everything about the Conestoga.

  Through the excavated area, a Floater moved. Crocks stepped aside as it approached. The oblong creature, with spots of yellows, reds, and greens, hovered along. The external surface of its body was covered by tiny cilia-like members which undulated and waved in their tiny patterns. It touched itself to the outer hull and the cilia moved rapidly back and forth.

  Through a method humans would have trouble understanding, the Floater conveyed a message to AI Ogma, hundreds of kilometers away.

  “That is a suitable hanger bay exterior door,” AI Ogma responded.

  The Floater left a marking on the permalloy, which the Crock’s eyes could detect. The team of Crock excavators, builders, diggers, spelunkers, and engineers connected in the admission tunnel they had built. It fit directly over the area the Floater, the thinking person, had marked out on the permalloy. Thus, the physical people had connected their own version of an airlock, or gas exchanger, to the hull of Eta. It had sealed chambers, dispensations, all along its length. Where it attached to the habitat, it was tightly sealed through a resin which bound the Zalian materials to the permalloy. The resin was a mixture of extracts from local Zalian plant life.

  The Floater came gliding over and ran its body all along the seam. Then it reversed direction, and with its cilia working vigorously, it retraced the seam in the opposite direction. Another message was conveyed to AI Ogma.

  “Thank you. I have consulted the library records. Tell those in the tanks to use, override code BV223-99FT. That should be entered,” AI Ogma related. “The SB Juliet Poyntz, who was manager, leader, follower, and worker, of this entrance, both physically and thinking, is no more.”

  All the Crocks in the area suddenly stopped. They all, in unison, turned and looked at the Floater. They then all stomped one of their four legs, extended their third arm to the right with its second elbow bent, and then spun about.

  “I appreciate your mourning the loss with me,” AI Ogma replied. “There is much death of intelligence inside this place.”

  The Crocks repeated their ritual, and then resumed their working. Crock tanks were lowered via platforms on the scaffold to where they could enter the world’s side of the admission tunnel. Their motors chugged as the first of the four tanks drew into the tunnel. The segment behind it constricted shut, pinching off all the air. Then the air within that segment was burped out through the skin of the tunnel. The Crock tank moved ahead, inside the tunnel, being propelled along by it double dual tread system. As a constriction opened, it progressed into the next dispensation.

  The Floater drifted away from the joint between Crock tunnel and Conestoga hull, and conveyed another message.

  “Thank you,” AI Ogma responded. “I too am pleased these vehicles are working for the task of penetrating these interlopers, these parts of the other world ship. The tank’s design is several hundred years old, but will not be too foreign to the sentient beings which may still live inside here.”

  The second Crock tank entered the tunnel as soon as the segment’s entryway unconstructed. It progressed along, following the first one, but keeping separated by a constricted place, so that each tank was in its own segment. Within each segment the gasses were exchanged. The third and then the fourth tanks entered, each separated by a constriction from the one ahead of it.

  When the first tank reached the hanger bay’s exterior door. An arm extended out and tiny feelers sought out the energy conduits which ran beneath the permalloy. The arm stopped over a certain section, and an exotic mixture of Stabilizite and other Zalian elements was sloshed onto that section of permalloy. The permalloy dribbled away, as if somehow melted. A small gravity sink hole was opened to a precise depth and size. The conduits and wiring were exposed. The Crock driving the tank confirmed with the Floater and then entered the code BV223-99FT into the energy flow.

  The hanger doors opened and then stopped precisely at the seam where the admission tunnel had adhered to the permalloy. The earth-like atmosphere in the hanger bay rushed into the void which surrounded the first tank. All the Zalian air had been burped out through the skin of the admission tunnel.

  The tank rolled into the remains of Eta Habitat, Baker 0829. The hanger bay was a shambles. Several crushed shuttles were crumpled against the far wall. The observation deck was filled with rubble from where the ceiling had collapsed. A few emergency lights still worked, but they were flickering and did not aid the Crock’s vision very much. Lights on the tank itself came on and washed the hanger bay in a visual spectrum which was compatible with the Crock’s eyes.

  Tank one pressed onward. In a corner a gravity sink hole was sucking materials down its maw. The tank proceeded to that location, and then using some analysis knew the gravity sink hole was not puncturing the hull. It left and traveled around to where the clump of Stabilizite was located. The rock was as wide as one of the four finger on a Crock’s hand. The arm reached out and sprayed the resin, making a ball all around that rock. The gravity sink hole disappeared.

  The second tank was making a survey of the doors which led from the hanger bay. One was a gangway which would lead into the strange biological area at the center. That tank shoved its way into that gangway, which resisted the pressure to open for only a short while. Tanks three and four had now entered Baker 0829, and the admission tunnel constricted shut and sealed itself behind that last tank.

  A message was sent back to the Floater, and then on to AI Ogma.

  “I understand,” AI Ogma relied. “I am not sure if any of the sentient beings are alive inside. The mechanical thinking beings are nearly all dead. There may be lower life forms, the indications make that look possible, but I am not sure. There may also be sentient beings being held in….” AI Ogma struggled to convey the idea of suspended animation, but could not find a solitary proper term in the Floater’s language to express the idea. “….a death-like stillness, which is not death…” AI Ogma projected images of the suspended animation co
coons, and a readout of what one that was functioning properly would look like. “Those beings are important to the other walking sentient beings. Please find all those you can. You can disregard the ones who look like this.” AI Ogma sent some images of broken, dysfunctional, and damaged cocoons. “Before removal of any intact death-like stillness beings, please allow me to attempt contact with the mechanical intelligences which are protecting them. Here thinking machines and thinking persons will need to work together.”

  The Floater passed the message along, and the Crocks inside the tanks gave their affirmations. The tanks rumbled off, belching some trace elements which should never have been in the Conestoga, yet they were going about their business. One tank was searching for gravity sink holes to repair them. The other three sought out humans, both active and those in suspended animation.

  Several large cockroaches scurried off as the tanks made their way down the gangway toward the biological habitat.

  Meanwhile, a long distance around the globe of Zalia, there was another group of Crock vehicles. These too were on the quad rail system. They were approaching the landing site of the habitat called Theta. This habitat was not sunken in muck, nor was it resting on struts, nor was it buried in the dirt and rocks. This habitat had landed hard, not as devastatingly hard as had Delta, but hard enough to crumple the stern end. The landing retro-rockets and gravity manipulation had failed at the final approach, so Theta had struck end-wise rather than length-wise. Most of the shell of the stern had pancaked and flattened down, crushing all the rooms, corridors and hallways nearly up to the interior wall of the biome. Theta had then righted itself by lowering the bow to the ground. It had been a crash landing which the habitat’s inertia suppression system barely managed to overcome.