“Let’s take Versa out for a spin. Make sure the city is safe,” Abbey said, flashing what was probably the only smile I’d seen her make.
Silverstein was a fair pilot and we wandered about for an hour discouraging looters and directing people to the hospital for safety. While we did so, I began linking Versa’s advanced communication’s capabilities to a satellite in orbit, and created my own communication network. I then extended access to Ezra, Silverstein, and myself.
I pulled out my mobile and checked my connectivity. Everything was working fine. I could chat with Versa whenever I wanted and communicate with Silverstein and Ezra in the event we were separated. It required myself and Versa as a relays, but it worked. I startled Ezra by sending him a text.
“Oh, cool. Heh, I forgot I even had this thing,” Ezra said pulling out his TI-202 mobile Silverstein had given him as a gift.
I could feel the communications routing through me, as if I was filtering them and protecting them at the same time. My own internal programing, that I couldn’t even understand, was giving us a firewall of sorts. I knew it was risky to use myself to route data, but we didn’t have anything else.
I asked Versa if he knew what a terrestrial AI was. He told me that he did and that he was one, indicating that the APC was his body, and the onboard systems his soul. I smiled, knowing that my own situation was probably that simple. The difference was that by virtue of his body, Versa had always knew he was an AI where my own awareness in that regard was fairly recent.
“Let’s start heading toward where our transportation is supposed to be meeting us,” Silverstein called out, turning the corner.
Versa rumbled along with us all wondering what we would find at the coordinates. I hoped there would be nothing, and we could just go back to the hospital. It seems like every time I get close to having a home, I would have to pick up and leave for some reason. It was getting tiresome.
I wanted a place to call my own again, friends to hang out with, and craft projects to work on. It struck me how much I didn’t want the life I was leading. I wondered if Silverstein and Ezra were happy, and if they would change a thing about our situation. They seemed to roll with everything better than I did, not that I’d ever let them know I thought that.
We rumbled along a main street taking the long way because the APC was too wide for slip roads or onramps. I stopped watching the exterior on the monitor after seeing the corpse of a person who had been consumed by fire. Silverstein and Ezra chatted about whether or not he or she had been lit on fire by someone else, or if they’d done it to themselves.
There were plenty of other signs of human depravity and sorrow. Beneath a makeshift shelter in front of an old library people had gathered to swap books. For many their lives would never be the same and gave into utter despair while others are seeking a way to keep the things they cherish alive. I felt miserable that I couldn’t do more to prevent this from happening, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I would have been just delaying an inevitable event.
Everything must end. Civilization, like a database, is constantly writing and rewriting itself to the edifice of memory. Being that nothing is perfect, the memory gets recorded incorrectly every once in a while and over time the database will collapse under the weight of those inconsistencies and errors. Civilization is probably no different.
My ardent hope was that the seamstress, the craftsman, and the creative person would rise from these ashes to begin the process of documenting and recording mankind once more. That people would again build a culture that they would wear on their bodies, write down in books and make into the tools and contrivances of their everyday lives.
“We’re here,” Silverstein reported.
“We are also early,” Ezra said looking about through the viewfinder from his gunnery position.
“There is a commercial class transport in the sky coming this way. It’s still a little ways off, ten miles or less,” Abbey reported after checking her own viewfinder.
We were sitting just beyond the edge of town beside a large six lane road that led in and out of Helsinki, surrounded by forest on either side. There was nowhere to go and not much in the way of cover if something happened. The hunter safety orange transport slowly descended wavering slightly before landing gear deployed.
“Neutral operator off-grid commercial transport. Its radio tags indicate that it has a European operating status only,” I reported after fiddling about with the instruments at my own station.
“Eamon, wake up,” Abbey called out toward the aft.
Eamon rolled over in the aft compartment, his huge paw waving about as if looking for the snooze button. I went back and pushed one of his eyelids back and peered down at him hoping he wouldn’t freak out or something. He smiled and rose trying in vain to stretch his limbs in the compartment.
“What’s going on?” He rubbed his eyes with his huge paw-like hands.
“Commercial transport is descending to land at the coordinates we were told to expect travel accommodations,” I told him.
“Operator?” he asked.
“Neutral, Euro licensing.”
“Mercenaries,” Eamon said standing up as best as he could and checking his weapons.
The large transport had two long cargo containers attached to its belly, making the whole vehicle roughly the mass of four commercial trucks when you counted engines, crew living space, and so forth. The old ones looked like an oddly cobbled together collection of metal boxes, engines, and maneuvering jets with only a few windows and ports. It was more like a flying tomb than a vehicle.
The communications station gave off a tone indicating that someone was attempting to contact us. It took me a minute or two to figure out how to respond. I wanted to make sure the transmission was heavily encrypted before I talked to these people.
“Hello, we are here to take on passengers,” a heavily Slavic sounding voice said.
“Please transmit a manifest and travel itinerary,” I replied.
“Oh, hello, little girl. Is your mother or father there?” the voice replied.
My cheeks burned a little at the comment, but I let it slide.
“Manifest and travel itinerary, please transmit now,” I replied, somewhat impatient.
There was a long pause.
Eventually I got a response. It was a manifest indicating that we were going to somewhere in the Arctic region. The coordinates were familiar so I sent the transmission over to Silverstein’s screen to look at.
“This is where Matthias went to try to confront Dr. Madmar and disrupt his operation,” Silverstein said aloud.
My heart sank.
“Let’s go talk to them and see who steps out to meet us,” Silverstein said as he stood from the pilot’s seat.
There was really no other option if we were going to get any real answers. We stepped out with Eamon plodding along beside us. Abbey stayed with Versa to try to give us cover in the event the whole thing was a trap.
The cargo hatch to the transport opened as we trudged through the snow toward it. Several dark haired men and a woman stepped out and walked toward us. A couple of them had rifles slung over their shoulders.
“Gypsies?” Silverstein whispered.
“Hello, I am Tullia,” a dark haired woman said extending her hand to us with an easy smile.
She was dressed in too-big canvas coveralls reinforced with ballistic nylon and lined with soft black felt. It was pretty clear she’d made the garment herself or someone had made it for her. The others were similarly attired with custom clothes that I envied somewhat. She looked at my own coat, her gaze lingering for a moment, but I couldn’t read her reactions at all.
“Silverstein, and this is Taylor, Ezra, and Officer Eamon,” Silverstein said gesturing to each of us in turn.
“Cops?” one of th
e larger men with a rifle blurted.
Tullia cast him a glare that would turn blood into stone, then returned to her friendly facade.
“Where are your bags? We will help you load up,” Tullia replied.
“Eamon isn’t on the manifest, or had you forgotten?” Silverstein said folding his arms.
“I assume he is here to check accommodations before departure. He is free to come aboard and perform his duties until we are prepping to depart,” Tullia replied without skipping a beat.
“We’ve only got the one bag Taylor carries. She can manage I think,” Silverstein said looking toward me.
I shook my head and handed it to the big fellow that seemed nervous about Eamon. His smile was clumsy but genuine as near as I could tell as he took my bag. We walked along beside them toward the transport to check out our accommodations. Tullia turned and looked back at Silverstein. As she did so I could see she had auditory implants of some sort.
“By the way, nobody calls us Gypsies anymore,” Tullia said with a slight grin.
“What do they call you?” Silverstein replied abashedly.
“The only game in town currently when it comes to moving people or goods by air,” she replied.
“The Romani people have a monopoly on these old commercial transports?” Silverstein asked with raised eyebrows.
“Those who were not blood we adopt. While multinational corporations collapse, a community of truckers and private shippers have banded together into shipping collective,” she replied taking the first step onto the ramp leading up into her ship.
“Well done,” Ezra said without malice.
I couldn’t help but agree with him. That they managed to stay in the air and operate the old transports without government sanction or subsidy was a testament to their fortitude and courage. That they made a living being blacklisted from commercial terminals with access to only the very few private airfields is what gave them their sinister reputation before the shutdown. In the aftermath, they used that adversity to define themselves as something more than just being smugglers and mercenaries. They were also very snappy dressers and made their clothes by hand, something I respected. I wanted to learn at least one stitch or sewing trick from them before it was all over.
The interior of the transport was very spartan with the only things being supplies and trade goods secured to the walls with pressure poles extending from the floor to the ceiling. The wooden floors were notched with the passage of hundreds or thousands of shipments being loaded and unloaded. That’s when I saw Matthias leaning in the hallway leading to the crew quarters.
He smiled and walked out to greet us, his long white hair pulled back, his beard neatly trimmed. He was wearing the same sort of clothes as the rest of the crew. He looked like he’d taken a beating recently which made me worry, but the feeling gave way to my relief at seeing him.
“Matthias!” I cried out, running over to hug him.
“Taylor, I’m glad you guys are alright,” Matthias said taking a knee to return the hug.
I had so many questions for Matthias I couldn’t even think straight. When he cupped my face in his hands I could tell he’d been restrained and probably kicked around by the wound to his forehead. He looked about somewhat nervously which was all the excuse I needed.
I’m not sure why but I was so incredibly angry that someone had done this to him or why I felt like I had this strange connection to him. I felt it when we first met. I imagine it is like meeting a cousin you’ve never met for the first time and seeing the family resemblance or something.
I turned, grabbing my bag from the big man standing next to me. With my other hand I shoved him hard sending him flying back into a wall really hard. The other crewmen were stunned for a moment as rifles began clicking into place. I willed the transport to go offline allowing the emergency lights to come back on.
“What did you do to Matthias?” I cried out, turning to Tullia.
Tullia reached out to grab me but I reversed her grip, turning her arm painfully off to one angle. She was bigger than me, and should have been much stronger, but she couldn’t seem to escape my grip, the area around her arm where I grabbed her rapidly turning purple. Another crewman rushed over to grab me, but Eamon grabbed him up off his feet.
“Answer the lady’s question,” Eamon growled, easily lifting the man from the ground into the air.
Silverstein and Ezra stepped in beside me to look down at Tullia. I could feel Silverstein’s hand on my back, his way of saying he was supporting me I suppose. Ezra looked as incensed as I was, his claws already out.
“We were supposed to do job. We needed Matthias to do it. He make us a counteroffer, and we accept,” Tullia said through clenched teeth.
“Its okay, Taylor,” Matthias said at last, looking visibly stunned probably by what I’d been able to do it.
I released the woman’s arm and willed the transport back into normal operation. The loading dock computer rebooted and the regular lighting came back on as the engine resumed its low thrum. The crew looked about bewildered.
I felt suitably tired from exerting myself. It took a toll on me trying to control a machine that large which lacked a central computer system controlling its operation. I was amazed that I was able to do it at all.
“We insulated the cargo hold against the psychic powers of Mechanics like Matthias. You shouldn’t be able to do that,” Tullia muttered rubbing her wrist.
“I’m not a Mechanic. It isn’t what I did you should be most worried about, it’s what I didn’t do,” I said angrily, tears really flowing now.
“Please, do not cry. We want to be friends. I am Truman,” the big man said recovering slowly from being shoved.
I glared at him, recognizing his voice.
“I know you. You’re the one who called me a little girl on the radio,” I said as I glared up at him.
“My bad,” he replied rubbing the goose egg on the back of his head.
“Vance Uroboros contracted them to steal several things from secure locations around the world following the shutdown. They were told where to find me in the Arctic and that they should use you to coerce me to aid them. I’ve made a counter offer with Dragos for other more equitable arrangements,” Matthias explained.
“Why did you follow through with the arrangements then?” Silverstein asked.
“Because I wanted to make sure you guys were alright and I’ll need your help keeping my end of the bargain,” Matthias replied.
“Do tell,” Ezra said motioning for Eamon to put the crewman down.
“They want to break orbit and conduct trade between the two colonies. Their ship is already outfitted to do so, complete with stasis chambers that will support a small crew operating the ship between Earth’s moon and Mars,” Matthias explained.
“So, if they’ve already got the ship, what do they need us for?” Ezra inquired.
“The military satellites. Without input from the ground they’ll just prevent all travel between Earth and the moon. Unless...” I said thinking out loud.
“Unless, someone can make the proper calculations to stay out of range of those satellites by mapping the paths of their orbits, predicting their speed and position relative to each other, and find a window of opportunity. Each satellite also has a shutdown period for maintenance that lasts about two seconds once per day. There are also dozens of other factors to consider which would normally require an extremely complex onboard navigation system this ship doesn’t possess,” Matthias continued.
“So they need you to break into a defunded craft and get access to the computer?” Silverstein asked.
“That would take too long and it is far from foolproof because there are no servers on the ground to borrow processing power from. No, Silverstein, we need you to make those calculations before we depart and make th
e needed adjustments while in flight,” Matthias replied.
Chapter 8
Taylor’s Diary, Part 5
It was hard to say goodbye to Eamon and Abbey. It was even harder to part ways with Versa. I was glad we’d still be able to chat, at least for the length of the battery onboard. With normal usage, assuming nothing happened to him, Versa should have been active for another eighty years. I wondered if I would live so long.
We were assigned two cabins on board Tullia’s transport. Matthias and Silverstein shared one, while Ezra and I took the other because the bunks were shorter. Ezra was good company. While he’d lost a lot of his childlike wonder about the world above ground, he still surprised me every once in a while. I hoped we’d be friends forever.
I had a chance to observe the principal members of the crew as they spent a day readying themselves to head back into the sky. Each was their own strange story I imagined. They often spoke to each other in a language I’d never heard, making it hard to get a sense of them, but their body language told me a lot.
Tullia seemed overly confident. Her brothers were always at her side, making it clear that she was in charge, even if it wasn’t required. It was as if all she wanted was to be the captain of her own transport ship, and her brothers supported her.
I could tell by the way she did her makeup that no one had ever shown her how and that she’d grown up around men, or perhaps with a mother who was absent. She made her own clothes by hand, most of them a size too large to obscure her figure. Being the only woman on board, it was probably easier to relate to the rest of the crew that way.
None of the rest of the crew poked fun at her as a result of her gender. It was clear they feared Truman and Dragos enough that they treated her like she was one of the guys. Or, maybe they feared Tullia, and her brothers were trying to keep her from killing anyone. Still, I empathized with her a great deal, for some reason, and hoped we could become friends.
Uroboros Saga Book 2 Page 11
