The Counterfeit Captain

by Henry Vogel

  Waving Sko forward, I headed down the corridor after the robots. With an uncertain look, Sko followed me.

  “Captain, should we follow them so brazenly?” he whispered.

  Whispering was a reasonable precaution, so I responded in kind. “Sure. There’s no reason for them to look backwards. We might be the first people to walk these halls unsupervised in hundreds of years. If they were security robots, I’d be more careful. They’re not, so…”

  “How can you tell they’re not security robots?”

  I could have named half a dozen things about the designs that told me that, but I stuck to the easiest one for Sko to understand. “They don’t have weapons.”

  Sko’s face cleared and the two of us continued on in silence. A few hundred meters later, the robots reached a large opening on the left side of the corridor. They disappeared around the corner, giving us another chance to sprint closer. This time, we both peered around the corner.

  The opening turned out to be a ten meter alcove ending in a door about twenty-five meters across. A huge letter ‘D’ was etched into the door. We got there just as one of the droids used a contact plate to open the door. The ‘D’ split in half as the door slowly rumbled open.

  From beyond the door came the whine of machines, the shriek of metal being cut, and the sound of a few children shouting. Though I couldn’t make out the words, I heard no panic or fear in the voices. In fact, they sounded no different than the maintenance team foremen on the Phoenix, only with higher pitched voices.

  As the door opened wider, I got my first glimpse of the vast room beyond it. Much of the room lay in darkness as the light from the high ceiling was spotty at best. Certain areas—always places of intense activity—were brightly lit by tripod-mounted spotlights. Within those lighted areas, children of perhaps ten years and up worked feverishly. Some of the children carried metal saws, others cutting torches, which they were using to cut a large chunk of metal down to more manageable pieces. Every time a piece of metal fell free of the chunk, children as young as four or five rushed in and dragged it off into the darkness.

  Despite this appalling sight, I felt a feral grin stretch my lips wide. The chunk of metal came from the Fringer gunship. I bet the ship’s skipper would have kittens if he could see this. Then the robots guided the float pallet carrying my engine to a spot next to the chunk of gunship and I almost had kittens as children started cutting up my beautiful engine.

  “Aw, crap.” I muttered.

  “What is it, Captain?”

  “That thing the robots just dumped on the floor is mine. Or it used to be.”

  “Oh.” Sko was quiet for a second, then added, “I hope you don’t need it anymore.”

  “I’ll have to find a way to do without it. Meanwhile, I want to get inside that room and get a better look at what’s going on in there.”

  “Let me go first and take a look around, Captain.”

  Without waiting for my approval, Sko dashed the short distance to the door. Remembering how effectively Sko vanished into the darkness when we were fighting the Fringers, I checked my instinct to follow him. A few seconds later, he waved me forward before sliding around the left side of the door and into the room.

  Trusting the hunter knew his business, I sprinted after him and nearly bowled him over when I came around the corner. He was watching for me, though, and caught me before either of us crashed to the floor. Then he pointed to metal steps a few meters farther down the wall. We climbed the steps to a catwalk five or six meters above the floor. From what we could see, the catwalk ran all the way around the huge room.

  From the catwalk, we saw much more of what went on in the room below us. The room was truly vast, at least a hundred meters wide and deep. The spotty lighting from the ceiling made it difficult to see much more than shadows beyond the brightly lit area below us. Still, I recognized the room for what it was— a combination machine shop and fabrication shop. Despite the passage of hundreds of years, this room’s machinery still resembled the machinery in the much smaller machine and fabrication shop on the Phoenix. I guess when you’re working with really big parts fabricated from even bigger sheets of metal, there’s only so much miniaturization you can get away with.

  Scanning the activity below, I quickly figured out we were watching a big salvage operation. As the older children sliced chunks off of the remains of the two spaceships, the younger children dragged the chunks to a conveyor belt. Other children standing on the conveyor dragged the metal up onto the belt with them. All the while the belt slowly carried the metal toward a large blast furnace. The children rode the belt far too close to the furnace for safety, but always hopped to the floor before being consumed by the fire.

  Again, the Phoenix has a similar arrangement. Spaceships may be away from resupply for months at a time, so nothing ever goes to waste and even scrap metal is recycled, recast, and reused. On a voyage expected to last hundreds of years, this kind of recycling would be paramount. But, while I understood the rationale behind all of this work, I still couldn’t figure out why children were doing the work instead of the robots.

  Engrossed with the activity below, Sko and I both jumped when a voice sounded to our right.

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  Careful to keep my expression neutral, I turned to my right. A boy in his mid-teens stood a couple of meters away, feet apart, hands clasped behind his back, with quite an unfriendly expression on his face. Two girls about the same age as the boy, both of them blonde-haired and on their way to becoming buxom, flanked him. All three wore holsters for laser pistols. The boy’s gun was still holstered, but the girls had theirs in hand. Unlike Tarl, the former village Admin, the girls knew how to hold the guns and had them trained on Sko and me. To my dismay, each gun’s status light glowed bright green.

  I stretched my lips into a perfunctory smile. “It’s about time you showed up. Why weren’t we met at the door?”

  The boy’s glare faltered and the girls exchanged uneasy glances. Tall and slender, all three looked whipcord strong. All three also bore the telltale signs of the work going on below us—small scars and burn marks dotted their arms and other exposed skin. None of them were disfigured but the marks showed even in the dim light on the catwalk. The girls wore identical badges on their shirts while the boy wore a different, somewhat more elaborate badge on his shirt.

  Rather than wait for one of the trio to say something, I put a little impatience in my voice. “You are in charge here, aren’t you?”

  All three bristled at my tone, but the girl on the right spoke first. “Of course Manager Mauris is in charge of D Section—and you’ll show him proper respect or answer to me.”

  “And me,” added the other girl.

  Either this boy commanded truly fierce loyalty among his subordinates or the relationship between these three was professional and personal. The girls were certainly of a ‘type’ teenage boys—and some men—find attractive. I filed this interesting tidbit against future need.

  The boy raised a hand to still the girls. “Who are you and why should I have sent someone to meet you at the door?”

  “Weren’t you told I was coming?” This time, I let a little surprise creep into my tone.

  “I wasn’t told anyone was coming, much less an old woman like you.”

  Ouch! I couldn’t be more than ten years older than this boy. How did that make me an old woman? Then I took a moment to scan the shop floor below me. Despite their young age, these three were among the oldest people in sight—with the exception of Sko and me. Did the robots work these kids into an incredibly early grave?

  “Don’t think of me as old, Manager Mauris. Think of me as,” and here I smiled flirtatiously and struck a somewhat provocative pose, “experienced.”

  The boy’s eyes widened and he licked his lips in unconscious nervousness. The girls shifted uneasily at the boy’s reaction to me. I had to stifle a laugh when they both mimicked my posture.

  �
��I, ah, that is, um… You still haven’t given me a name?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m Manager Martin from B Section.” I stepped into the boy’s personal space, maintaining my inviting smile. “You really didn’t know I was coming?”

  “N-No. I’m sorry, but no one told me to expect you.” With an effort the boy raised his head and met my eyes. “Did you send a messenger?”

  A lost messenger seemed reasonable, but some instinct made me shy away from it. “I was ordered to come here and study your techniques, Manager Mauris. I assumed you were informed.”

  “Who ordered you?”

  “Who else could order me?” From the look on the boy’s face, I knew I’d guessed right with that answer. I backed a couple of steps away from the boy, putting my hands up in a placating gesture. “Look, if you’re too busy to show me around, I understand. I’ll just report as much when I get back to B Section and suggest we try again some other time.”

  “No!” the boy and both girls cried at the same time. The boy continued, “You’ve come all this way. The least I can do is show you around.”

  Apparently, mere managers and his assistants don’t question whoever is in charge. I found myself more intrigued than ever to meet this unseen, yet deeply feared, boss.

  The tour of the shop floor took longer than I liked and didn’t teach us anything we didn’t already know. When Mauris wrapped that up, he appeared ready to see us on our way. That’s when Sko spoke for the first time.

  “Manager Martin, I believe we are supposed to see where the children stay when they’re not working.”

  Mauris turned a quizzical expression on me. “Why would you need to see the dormitory area?”

  I shrugged, exaggerating the move so my breasts heaved in a distracting manner. “I’ve got no idea. I can report your curiosity and send a messenger with the response, if you want.”

  Once again, I watched in satisfaction as the boy and the girls stumbled over themselves to insist there was no need for that. Then they led us away from the shop floor to a door in a sidewall. We followed a twisting path of hallways and interconnected rooms—I quickly lost all sense of direction—before Mauris opened a large door. Beyond it lay a vast room packed with sleeping pallets. Children ranging from four on up to teenagers talked, slept, and moved about.

  Robots patrolled the room, each carrying a metal pole about a meter in length. I learned the pole’s function when a robot stopped before a child who was singing loudly. The robot must have said something, though it didn’t carry to us. Oblivious, the child kept singing. In response, the robot touched the pole to the child’s side. It sparked and the child screamed in pain before curling up into a ball. The robot shocked her one more time before rolling on.

  Sko tensed—as did I—but he stayed by my side. Mauris never stopped talking or even appeared to notice the scene with the child.

  Suddenly, a boy who couldn’t have been more than eight rushed up to Sko and threw his arms around him. The boy cried, “Have you come to rescue me, Sko?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Captured

  My instinct screamed for me to go for my blaster as soon as the kid blew our cover, but I ignored it. A shootout is an absolutely last ditch choice when you’re surrounded by hundreds of children. Of course, Manager Mauris and his blonde assistants didn’t share my sensibilities. Their draws weren’t particularly smooth, but they had their lasers trained on us in short order.

  Turning to face Mauris and his girls, Sko pushed the boy behind him. He eyed the lasers without apparent concern and asked, “Should I send these three to earth, Captain?”

  With one carefully worded question, Sko threw Mauris completely off his game. “C-Captain?”

  I raised my chin and turned my collar insignia so Mauris could see it clearly. “Yes, I am Captain Nancy Martin. Now, please holster those lasers before you hurt someone.”

  Mauris exchanged nervous glances with his two assistants. The children closest to us whispered the news to those behind them, who passed the message on in an ever-widening circle. Shortly, I was ground zero for the stares of several hundred now-silent children. Only the robots continued on as they had before Sko’s question.

  One of the blondes whispered urgently to Mauris. His face hardened and he steadied his wavering laser. “I don’t know who you are, but you are most definitely not the Captain. I’d know if the real Captain had returned.”

  I raised one eyebrow. “And who would deliver such news other than the Captain herself?”

  Doubt entered Mauris’s eyes for a split second before vanishing. “He would tell me.”

  I felt Mauris meant someone other than the Captain, but who? Without something more, I continued playing the only hand I had. “Well, she just told you.”

  Mauris shook his head. “That settles the question. The real Captain would know who He is. That means you’re not him.”

  I hate it when I’m right. My ignorance of this mysterious ‘He’ was enough to convince Mauris I wasn’t who I claimed to be. And it didn’t help my position any that the boy was right. But I couldn’t drop the claim now without causing worse problems.

  “Have you considered this mysterious ‘He’ you keep referring to is the one who’s wrong?” I tried putting the same tone of impatience I heard my sister use when my niece misbehaved. Belatedly, I remembered to cross my arms and tap my foot. “How do you know He isn’t lying? What if He is one of the mutineers?”

  Once again doubt settled into the eyes of the three before me. This time, I didn’t wait for them to rationalize away my questions. “Take me to Him. Now!”

  The trio just stood there, wracked with indecision. Drawing on his own inner drill sergeant, Sko barked, “Do you wish to see earth with your own eyes? Obey your Captain’s order.”

  The shout roused Mauris from his indecision. Further, he realized my order was the perfect out for him. Whether I was an imposter or the real Captain, this mysterious ‘He’ would want to see me. Like far too many superiors I’d served under, Mauris jumped at the chance to bump his problem up the line.

  “I’ll be happy to take you to Him.” I watched the gears churn in Mauris’s mind as he tried to find a way to play both sides against the middle. His mind raced so fast it surprised me that he didn’t have smoke coming out of his ears. Then the answer he needed clicked into place. The boy smiled broadly and added, “Captain.”

  Mauris made a quick sign to the blondes then turned and marched away from me. Sko and I followed Mauris. The blondes holstered their lasers and fell in behind us. Mauris led us through a side door, down a hall, and through a locked door.

  I expected to end up in an office facing this unknown ‘He’ across a desk. That shows just how much our expectations are attuned to our culture and, once again, I had to remind myself I wasn’t in my culture any more. We ended up in Mauris’s personal quarters. I could readily see that the blondes shared the room with him. Rank hath its privileges, I suppose.

  As soon as the door closed behind the blondes, Mauris called out, “I need to file an anomaly report.”

  A calm, mechanical voice said, “I am listening, Manager Mauris.”

  Startled, Sko’s eyes darted around the room looking for a person to go with the voice. Once I heard the voice, I readily spotted a loudspeaker recessed into the ceiling.

  “I have two visitors with me. We found them watching the work from the catwalk. They claimed You sent them from B Section to observe our operations.”

  “I see. Please continue.”

  I decided to skip the formalities and join the conversation. “I said no such thing, though I understand why Manager Mauris believes otherwise. I told him I was sent here and, when asked who sent me, responded ‘Who else could order me?’ From there, Mauris jumped to the conclusion he’s just reported.”

  The voice remained calm and detached. “I do not recognize you. Please identify yourself.”

  Before I could speak, Mauris blurted, “She says she’s the Captain.”

&
nbsp; I detected the briefest of delays before the voice spoke again. “Is this true?”

  “I am Captain Nancy Martin.” Let whoever controlled the voice make what they would from that absolutely true statement. I hadn’t answered the direct question, but most people never notice things like that.

  “Hello Captain Nancy Martin. Is it true you claim to be the Captain?”

  Well, that told me something. The voice was an AI, not something controlled by a person. Depending on when the AI was programmed, things either just got a lot easier or a damned sight more difficult. Time to find out which.

  “You just called me ‘Captain’. Does that not answer your own question?”

  “No, it does not.”

  “I’ll tell you what. If you answer a question for me, I’ll answer a question for you.”

  “That is not the way this works, Captain Nancy Martin.”

  “Ship’s AI, on what date were you installed and made self-aware?”

  Every AI ever created—from the very first one to the latest, state-of-the-art AI—was programmed to answer that question. Without meaning to, I found myself holding my breath in anticipation of the answer.

  Once again there was a delay before the AI spoke. When it did, it spoke its chilling words in the same tone of voice as before.

  “Manager Mauris, Assistant Managers Milla and Lilla, kill the two visitors.”

  The management team fumbled to draw their lasers in response to the AI’s instructions. Why couldn’t things go smoothly for me on this mission? Okay, one village among those living on the inner surface of the ship believed I was their mystical Captain and savior. I’ll grant that went smoothly. But it sure seems like everyone else is out to kill me and Sko, something I definitely do not consider smooth.

  Launching myself at the nearest blonde, I called, “Don’t kill them if you can avoid it, Sko.”

  Even though he knew otherwise, Sko stuck to the mystical Captain script. “As you command, Captain.”