Helium 3: Death from the Past (Helium-3 Book 2)

by Brandon Q. Morris

  “We have to do something,” Tolkut said.

  “I have an appointment with the Supreme Mother,” Norok said. “You will excuse me? I will try to call a ship.”

  Norok seemed to be out of his mind. Mart’s disappearance must have thrown him off balance.

  “Why don’t you look outside,” Kimi said, “There’s no one here to pick you up.”

  Norok stepped up to one of the simulated portholes, looked through it briefly, and turned back around. “Who knows what this screen is showing us here?” he said. “We can’t believe anything we see.”

  That might present a problem, thought Kimi. We have to believe something—otherwise, we can’t do anything.

  “We should first find out where we are,” Tolkut said. “Then we’ll try to take control of the ship.”

  “If we can do that, we’ll fly to those Artificials and destroy them,” Kasfok said. “You have seen for yourselves what powerful weapons the Sphere possesses. That’s much more promising than trying to do it with what’s left of our net fleet.”

  “Typical. You always think about fighting and war,” Kimikizu said.

  “We don’t need to agree yet,” Tolkut said. “So far, we are just stowaways. Any decisions will have to wait until we can steer the ship.”

  “This is where we first met Mart,” Norok told them.

  Kimi looked around. Only the strange mirror distinguished this room from the many other, mostly empty cubicles through which they had passed. Mart had stepped out of a door concealed in the wall. Kasfok approached the mirror. Kimi danced the steps of caution. She had slipped the translator under one of her wings, near her shoulder. It needed contact with a smooth surface to transmit the vibrations necessary for Mendraki communication.

  Norok scanned the wall. Mart had simply tapped the wall and the door had opened. What if there was some kind of user ID that opened the passage only for authorized people? Kimi recalled the situation. She had been standing with her back to the mirror, examining the open passageway to the next room. Then, suddenly, someone had spoken at her back.

  She turned around. Norok was quite clearly scanning the wrong wall. “Directly across the room,” Kimi said. “You’re on the wrong side.”

  “No, I’m sure it was here.”

  “Trust me. It’s here. I just need to do a little searching.”

  Tolkut watched their discussion. It was almost as if he understood them, but Mendraki were virtually impervious to sound. Kimikizu stepped up to the wall where she remembered Mart standing. She opened her hand so that it looked as human-like as possible. Then she tapped with the second finger approximately on the place where Mart had touched.

  A cool breeze blew through the opening. Inside, the light flickered again—or still?

  “Norok? Look, a door has opened here.”

  She tried to put as little triumph into her voice as possible, but she didn’t quite succeed. Norok closed his beak with a loud clatter. Then he came to her without looking at her. He would calm down quickly. She did not resent his vanity. He wasn’t a bad guy, after all, and as commander of a reconnaissance ship, he’d always had to radiate unconditional confidence to his subordinates.

  She let the Mendrak go first. Kasfok used the wall and then the ceiling. At first, the huge spider had frightened her when it crawled above her, but she had gotten used to it by now. It was good to have someone who could also examine the ceilings of the rooms. They didn’t know how the ship worked. Why was the light flickering in this room? The walls seemed just as smooth as in all the other rooms. The flickering came from everywhere. Kimi was glad when they left the room.

  In the next cabin they came across a double doorway, which opened with gestures. She had wanted to continue the exploration together with her partner, but Norok preferred to join Kasfok. Very well. Let him see what he gets from it.

  Tolkut was similar to her personally—the old warhorse also preferred words to weapons when in doubt. But she also understood that Norok, as a trained warrior, was fascinated by the once-powerful Kasfok.

  Kimi pointed to the ceiling. Tolkut understood the gesture and climbed up. That way, nothing would be able to surprise them.

  The Sphere must be enormous. They had explored at least 20 rooms without finding the control center. They proceeded systematically. Tolkut used spider silk to mark all the doors through which they had passed. They had not come across any traces of the others, but neither had they come across any human traces. Apparently, the Sphere had been empty except for Mart. This was essentially good news, because it meant that a single human was enough to navigate this mighty spaceship. They just had to figure out how to do it.

  Tolkut rappeled down from the ceiling. Kimi remained standing, while the Mendrak danced the steps of recognition. She had left the translator with Norok, so she had to rely on her language skills.

  This is a strange ship, Tolkut said.

  Yes, you are right. It’s as if it was built in two phases.

  They constantly came across furnishings that seemed to indicate the rooms had been retrofitted, with small cabinets stuck to the walls, linens hanging from the ceiling, and strange furniture that only sometimes matched the shape of people’s bodies.

  Or as if it had been rebuilt at some point, Tolkut said. But I do not jump that.

  Excuse me? With her eyes closed, Kimi repeated the rhythm in her head.

  But that’s not what I mean. That was what Tolkut had said. She had to pay better attention.

  What do you mean then? she asked with a few quick steps.

  The shape of the rooms. They are sometimes narrow and sometimes wide, and the heights also differ.

  She had already noticed that, too. But they are always cuboid, she added. What does that tell you?

  Among the Mendraki, specialists design the ships, master net builders who have acquired this art. They always start from the same basic units.

  It’s similar with the Iks. This is more efficient in construction, because you only need a certain number of parts.

  Correct. But efficiency apparently played no role in the construction of this sphere.

  Perhaps people had a surplus of resources.

  Nothing of this is noticeable in the rooms. They are minimally furnished.

  The Mendrak seemed to have an idea. What is your point, Tolkut?

  Perhaps the ship grew naturally, from room to room.

  Like a living being?

  Not necessarily like a life form, but like an organism.

  That was an intriguing thought. But it did not help them any further. That’s very exciting, Tolkut, but now let’s keep looking. I’m already pretty tired.

  Maybe we need to change our search?

  How?

  There must be circulation systems in an organism. At least in the beings we know. Maybe... wouldn’t they lead us to the center?

  But how will you find them? They run inside the walls for protection, and are thus inaccessible to us.

  I think I can hear them, Tolkut said.

  Tolkut pressed his body firmly against the ceiling. His six legs stood out pointedly as a result. He slowly pushed himself forward while Kimi remained below him with her head down.

  They reached the wall. The hidden pipe had to continue on the other side. Kimi was skeptical. How would Tolkut know in which direction the line led? They hadn’t seen a single staircase or ladder yet, either. So they were constantly moving in the same plane. Mart’s spaceship, however, had a spherical shape. How did that fit together? And what if the line suddenly led upward?

  Wait here, drummed Tolkut. The Mendrak crawled down the wall and looked for the nearest exit. He crossed it but quickly came back. Wrong direction, he drummed.

  Tolkut left the room through another door. Kimi waited until she finally heard a knock. Tolkut must have found the room where the line continued. She knocked back, then followed him. By the time she reached the room Tolkut had called from, the Mendrak was again glued to the ceiling, listening for sounds that
were inaudible to her.

  Downy fluff, Kimi scolded in her mind. She didn’t want to distract Tolkut. The longer they took, the more pointless the search seemed to her. They should have warned the flock instead. Her people had to get out of this doomed system as soon as possible. Maybe they could use the Sphere to bring at least a part of their people to safety.

  That’s no use, Kimikizu tapped the wall with her beak.

  Tolkut straightened up. His little head turned back and forth. We are getting closer, Tolkut replied, be patient.

  Patience had never been one of her virtues. Tolkut was easy to talk to. What destination? she asked.

  The core.

  How did Tolkut know that? That is impossible. We have been moving in the same plane for hours.

  No, Kimi. I need less strength to hold on to the ceiling here.

  What does it mean?

  The ship probably uses its rotation to generate the gravity we feel. The closer we get to the core, the less strong it becomes.

  But then shouldn’t they have found stairs?

  That’s im... No, it’s possible if the levels are organized in a spiral fashion, Kimi drummed.

  Exactly.

  Wouldn’t we then move faster if we followed the gradient of gravity?

  From room to room, the differences are so slight that I can’t feel them. We must continue to orient ourselves to the lines.

  Kimi opened her beak and yawned. A small opening appeared on Tolkut’s face, and closed again. Was it possible that he had also just yawned?

  Are you tired? Shall we rest a little?

  That’s an excellent idea. Very gladly, she drummed.

  I can prepare a camp for you.

  That is not necessary, but thank you. I sit very comfortably on my knees.

  Kimikizu sat down, rested her heavy head on her shoulder, and closed her eyes.

  Review: Goruskhan 2988 A.D

  “Damn tin head!” exclaimed Jonas in disappointment.

  The stone had just missed the robot. The laughter and mockery of the others brought a blush to his face. The loud mixture of jeers and derisive remarks made the few visitors to the park, mostly older citizens of the planet Goruskhan, who had made themselves comfortable on benches in the pleasant midday sun, look disapprovingly at the small group of students who were cheering each other on and waiting to finally find out who would be the first to hit the lawn care robot with a projectile.

  Not that all seniors disapproved of this behavior in principle. Far from it! Among the elderly, there were enough who were not enthusiastic about the inexorable takeover of the labor market by autonomous machines. In the occasional holophone conversations with their children and grandchildren, or at the even rarer family reunions, they heard again and again about jobs that were at risk or had already been taken over by robots.

  Since the human race had begun to expand into space after the invention of hypertunnel propulsion nearly 200 years ago, the use of autonomous machines had inevitably progressed.

  “Go, Jonas!”

  “Again!”

  “Loser!”

  The voices of the predominantly male youths, all of whom must have been around 12 years old, sounded garbled and could hardly be understood by outside observers. Jonas, however, who had only just missed the robot with his throw, understood them very well. If he missed the robot with the next stone, he could forget about joining Nikolai’s group. Everyone wanted to be part of Nikolai’s group—at least everyone Jonas knew. Nikolai was the biggest and strongest boy of his age group at Ertlov City High School, and you either belonged to Nikolai’s group—and thus enjoyed its protection—or you belonged to the others. The ‘outsiders.’

  It was clearly better to be part of Nikolai’s group.

  Jonas looked searchingly across the gravel path to find another stone of suitable size for his next attempt.

  The robot made its rounds undisturbed, leaving an evenly mowed lawn in its wake. Although the machine could autonomously do its assigned work, it was not designed for complex interaction with humans. Its capabilities in this area were limited to warnings about its sharp shearing blades if anyone entered the lawn and risked crossing its path. If the warning was ignored, the machine would naturally take evasive action and even deactivate itself if necessary to avoid an unpleasant incident.

  Under no circumstances could a robot be allowed to harm a human.

  The atmosphere was already tense enough as it was, as the local politicians responsible for park maintenance knew only too well.

  Not because there were so many applicants for the job as parkkeeper. More precisely, there was no one at all who wanted to do this job, but it was a matter of principle! At least this was the statement of those who complained every evening in the Holonews about the advance of the machines and the decline of the working class. There were hardly any people left who were willing to sweep the streets of the cities, to stand bent over the furrows of the fields all day as harvest workers, to stock endless shelves as warehouse workers, or to turn screws into relevant parts in hours of monotony at the assembly line of a factory building. But, it was a matter of principle.

  Even for more complex work, such as nannies, cleaners, or certain service areas, more and more robots were used. They became cheaper and cheaper in mass production, never got sick, worked around the clock, and did not complain about working conditions. However, the robots still lacked understanding of human behavior in some areas. The machines lacked what was commonly called ‘emotional intelligence,’ and this deficit severely limited their potential applications. However, not everyone was unhappy about this!

  Since there was hardly anyone left who was willing to do menial work, the resulting increase in automation inevitably left more and more people without jobs. Robots had become the symbol of a system whose high technology required less and less manual labor.

  In truth, it was not the robots who were to blame for the increasing misery of many people, but the politicians who had failed to foresee the effects of technological development and to make appropriate provisions for those who were particularly affected by these upheavals. Nevertheless, the robots were downright hated by many.

  Therefore, throwing stones at a lawn care robot was a venial sin in the eyes of many seniors. Some of them would have been only too happy to take part themselves if only their stiff joints allowed them to.

  In the meantime, Jonas had found a stone that was comfortable to hold, not too heavy and not too light, one that he could throw far enough. One of the tests Nikolai demanded of him was to get a hit from a distance that didn’t make it easy.

  Even as the stone sailed through the air, Jonas knew this time it was going to hit. Indeed, with a metallic ‘plonk,’ the projectile hit the small, tower-like structure on the surface of the discus-shaped robot, beneath which was located the electronic control unit with the central processor.

  Nikolai slapped Jonas appreciatively on the shoulder, which seemed almost like a knighthood to him. The small group hooted again. But the howls and laughter died away as quickly as they had begun.

  The lawn care robot suddenly stopped, and a loud, tinny voice sounded from it. “Please make way! Please make way! Please make...”

  The voice died away and the machine began to spin in circles. From its speaker came only indefinable tones, which moved between a high-pitched squeak and a sound as if one were drawing a piece of chalk under high pressure across a blackboard.

  Instinctively, Jonas clapped his hands over his ears.

  From the nearby benches, where the seniors followed the spectacle with open mouths, the first curses rang out. Two of the elderly gentlemen rose and, as fast as their feet could carry them, walked toward the park exit to escape the terrible noise. Others, who were no longer so steady on their feet, pressed their hands to their ears.

  The shrieking sound went through Jonas’s spine. And it grew louder and louder.

  “You must have broken something,” Nikolai shouted in his ear. He was b
arely understandable through the noise.

  Then the robot suddenly accelerated and drove toward the boys with clattering shear blades. Nikolai and the others cried out in horror and jumped apart in all directions. Only Jonas remained, paralyzed with fright. It almost seemed as if the robot wanted to take revenge on him.

  When the machine reached the edge of the lawn, it bumped into a small border of natural stones, barely a hand’s width, designed to prevent the grass from spreading onto the sidewalk. Normally, the robot would have turned off when the sensors on its front bumped into the edging, but the vastly excessive speed at which it was now traveling produced a different effect. Instead of turning off, it slammed into the boundary with full force, the rear part of the machine vaulted upward, and the robot performed a half somersault.

  Lying on its back, it came to rest only a meter in front of Jonas, who was still standing there as if paralyzed. The shearing blades on its underside, now jutting upward, were still spinning and seemed to be threateningly reaching for Jonas. The screeching sound from inside the robot died away with a pitiful whimper.

  Jonas Jordan opened his eyes and smiled to himself. The scene from 20 years ago had played itself out in his mind’s eye in a split second. It had been his first close encounter with a robot, and more than likely it had contributed to his taking up the profession he now practiced.

  His parents hadn’t exactly been thrilled when they were presented with the bill for repairing the lawn care robot, and Jonas was forced to accept a severe cut in his allowance for quite some time, but the sight of the machine lying helplessly on its back in front of him had awakened something in him—curiosity about how such a thing might work.

  The study of robotics had been the logical consequence of this curiosity.