Proxima Trilogy: Part 1-3: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

  Gronolf is annoyed. Not even his father dares to call these ‘events’ what they really are, sneaky murders of crew members. He will have to try to hide his anger.

  His father briefly stops, makes a 180-degree turn and walks in the opposite direction. “We have to be prepared for this,” he says. “There is a mechanism, an emergency switch we can use to remove functions from the Omniscience. That way we can cut off all its exterior connections. Then it has no influence on the ship anymore, and is only responsible for the engine.”

  That would be our death, Gronolf thinks. Without the Omniscience we will hardly reach Single Sun.

  “The emergency switch is in a chamber. We have to occupy that chamber so we can use the emergency switch once we arrive in the system of Single Sun. We cannot send a company, and nobody from the leadership group should participate. That is why we thought of you. You are, if you excuse the evaluation, a simple crew member, but you are also the best of your plex and, of course, my son, so you enjoy our full trust.”

  “Won’t I need certain authorizations to get into control areas?”

  His father stops. Numerous eyes watch Gronolf, who dared to say something without being asked.

  “Of course you will need authorizations to fulfill this task. However, the Omniscience would notice it if we grant them to you now. Therefore the learner Murnaka will accompany you. Both of you will occupy the security chamber, thus enabling us to deactivate the Omniscience. You already met Murnaka. During the last few weeks we gradually transferred all authorizations to her. This fits the story that she eventually will join the leadership circle. We are hoping the two of you are still unimportant enough that the Omniscience will ignore you.”

  “We are hoping?”

  “Yes, Gronolf. Nothing is certain. However, the Omniscience is not really omniscient. It has to distribute its resources, just as we do, and this means it is not aware of the many actions performed by individual crew members. Naturally, you will attract its attention once you approach the control area. By that time you have to expect countermeasures. You will definitely need vacuum equipment, weapons, and tools.”

  “I understand. Task accepted,” Gronolf says.

  “I would suggest you two get a good night’s sleep and then start with the implementation,” his father says. “Once you are on the way we can no longer communicate. While this room is bug-proof, you two will be on your own out there.”

  “Thanks. May I leave?”

  “Just a moment.” A Grosnop general gets up at the end of the table. The man looks ancient, and his voice is hoarse. “I am Murnak,” he says. “I will kill you if you take liberties with my daughter.”

  Gronolf accepts this statement without showing any emotion, and none of those present say anything. It is the duty of a father to find the best sperm donor for his daughter. And who would be more suitable than the warrior who defeats the father in an honest fight? If he should actually lose against the old man, the shame of that defeat would be with him forever. Therefore it is only right that he should lose his life if he loses the fight. If he wins, everyone expects him to show mercy to the father of his future wife. That’s how life has always been on the world of the double sun.

  Brightnight 37, 3876

  The memory of Murnaka moves him so much he has to deactivate the archive. Gronolf emerges from the past. How could he have forgotten her? He cannot imagine that the long sleep would have such effects. And what happened to her? He jerks upright. The system knows everything! If Murnaka is on board, it will answer his question in a moment.

  Gronolf leans forward and starts typing, but then he stops. Should he really check? And what if he finds Murnaka in a sleeping chamber marked red, and she only consists of slime and putrefaction? Right now he still has hope of seeing her again. He must not be weak. Murnaka could be a great help. He trusts her and he knows her abilities. It is a sensible choice to have the system look for her. Gronolf enters her description and waits in suspense.

  “Error,” the system reports. Gronolf’s stomach rumbles angrily. He goes over the messages. The search routine obviously cannot handle the large number of defective sleeping chambers, as the Knowledge Scientists did not anticipate such a status. However, he can have the system displays lists of names sorted by the first syllable.

  Gronolf enters the symbol for ‘Mur.’ The secondary lists still contain more than a hundred entries. He patiently reads through them until he reaches Murnak. His heart is beating faster. Murnaka’s father is in one of the sleeping chambers. Gronolf calls up all the details. Everything appears red—Murnak has been dead for many cycles. If the system had only awakened him earlier! Now he will never be able to fight against Murnaka’s father.

  What about his daughter? Gronolf scrolls and scrolls, but her name is missing. He leans back. Either the system is defective, which he does not believe, or Murnaka never made it to one of the sleeping capsules. He feels his eyelids drooping with sorrow. If there were only remnants in a capsule he could say farewell to! What happened to her? He digs through his memory but remembers only what he saw in the archive recordings. He definitely has to carry on.

  Gronolf listens, but the shelter building remains quiet. He activates the camera. Adam and Eve seem to be still asleep. Marchenko, on the other hand, has changed significantly. The abilities of this machine are amazing.

  Gronolf reactivates the sonar transmission and once again drifts into the past.

  Archive, Darknight 9, 3350

  After the briefing in Sector 1, Gronolf walks directly to his quarters. He had hoped to be able to talk to Murnaka before leaving, but his wish did not come true. It is actually not necessary. Murnaka will know what to do, and he can prepare himself without hurrying. Gronolf has to clean his weapon, check his tool belt, and test his vacuum equipment. He starts with his weapon. Step by step he disassembles it, cleans the parts, and reassembles them. This work feels good. It is totally unclear what tomorrow and the following days will bring. If they are lucky, the Omniscience won’t notice anything. Yet Gronolf knows he cannot rely on that—he has to be vigilant the whole time. He hopes he will be able to remain watchful despite the presence of the young female. He cannot even dream of desiring the female learner as long as he is only his father’s son.

  Shortly before the end of his shift the quarters get crowded, because his comrades return from exercises. It is not a good sign that they don’t arrive at exactly the same time. There is more and more sloppiness these days, and they all might have to pay a price for it. Yet Gronolf keeps these thoughts to himself. Then he remembers Wakmir’s invitation. What is going on in Sector 132 after work? Gronolf is not in the mood to get involved in something, but it also might be a mistake to ignore the unrest among the crew. Therefore, he gets on his way.

  A soldier sits on the ground in front of the entrance to Sector 132. He has pushed his legs under his body, looking very casual, and he scratches his stomach fold with two of the seven fingers of his right touch-hand.

  Gronolf nudges him with one foot. “Wakmir invited me,” he says.

  “Second to the left, then left again, and right,” the sitting soldier says without looking at him.

  “And who is waiting there?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Gronolf is tempted to strike the soldier. He outranks this common soldier considerably, and the underling should treat him with more reverence. Yet he is off duty now, and Wakmir’s friends probably wouldn’t like it. Therefore he simply steps over him. In doing so, his knee hits the soldier’s touch-arm hard, seemingly by accident. Gronolf hears the man groan, but he ignores the noise.

  Inside Sector 132 the light has been dimmed. Gronolf follows the path described to him. He reaches a large steel door hanging from only one hinge and ajar. Behind it, he hears voices he doesn’t recognize. He pushes the door open and enters the room. All those present turn around to face him. He counts fifteen males standing in a group. They had probably been discussing something until a moment ago, and
conversation stopped the moment he entered.

  “There you are, Gronolf.” Wakmir leaves the group and walks toward him. “What an honor for us.”

  “I don’t know whether I am an honor or a punishment,” Gronolf replies as he looks around. He is the highest-ranked person here. The warriors come from different companies.

  Wakmir waves him forward. “I want to introduce you to Oknar.” He points at a tall warrior who is considerably older than the others. “He is a kind of mentor for us.”

  Gronolf approaches and spreads his arms. This gesture demonstrates all his strength, because now he seems even taller and wider.

  Oknar immediately submits. “I am Oknar,” he says. “Having you among us is an honor.”

  “Let’s wait and see,” Gronolf replies. “Why are we actually here?”

  “These accidents,” Wakmir says. “They really worry us.”

  “Well, not the accidents themselves,” Oknar corrects him. “Rather the fact that the leadership obviously ignores them and plays them down. By now, innocent warriors die every day, and what does our leadership group do about it? They deny that there even is a problem.”

  Oknar is right, Gronolf thinks. While he knows that the leaders actually are trying to do something, the average Grosnops must think that they don’t matter at all to their superiors.

  “And what do you want to do about it?”

  “We are not sure. It seems pretty obvious the Omniscience has something to do with it. We know where it is located. If we destroy it—”

  “—the Majestic Draght will lose its only pilot,” interjects Gronolf.

  “Piloting a ship can’t be that difficult,” Wakmir says.

  “You forgot the drive,” Gronolf says. “Any irregularity can build up quickly. The dark matter generator reacts to gravitational fields the ship will inevitably cross. No Knowledge Scientist can react quickly enough to that.”

  “So the Omniscience has power over the entire ship,” Oknar says. He doesn’t sound disappointed, but rather seems to have expected this.

  “Correct,” Gronolf says.

  “Then we have only one option—moving against the leadership. Our superiors can no longer ignore these accidents. They have to force the Omniscience to stop these attacks against innocent crewmembers.”

  Oknar arrived at the only correct conclusion, from his perspective.

  Gronolf can’t argue with his idea without giving too much away. “Is this room bug-proof?” he asks.

  Wakmir proudly points at a member of the engineering department. “Our specialist made sure of that.”

  “Good,” Gronolf says, though he is not convinced the room is really secure. The Omniscience can access any data circuit. Perhaps even the leadership group has been lulled into a false sense of security. Tomorrow he and Murnaka will find out.

  “A rebellion against the leadership is a serious matter,” Gronolf says evasively.

  Oknar aims his front eye at him. “Of course. We believe, though, that most will support us. Just ask around if you don’t believe me. Nobody is happy with the leadership anymore.”

  “Nevertheless, we should not rush things.”

  “We? Does this mean you are joining us?”

  Gronolf does not answer right away. He probably has no choice. He can only stay informed if he at least pretends to participate. If he rejects them, the actions of the rebels will surprise him eventually. And that might happen at the most inopportune moment. He will try to delay them until his mission is finished.

  “How many of us are there?” Gronolf asks.

  “Hard to say,” Oknar replies. “We don’t really keep official membership lists. I would say we have one or two members in almost every unit. In case of emergency, we definitely should be able to mobilize a couple hundred.”

  A couple hundred—that is not much compared to the total number of crew members, which must be seven times seven times larger. Yet if the others remain neutral, it might work. It depends on how much they still respect the leadership. Probably less with every day.

  “We should not rush things,” Gronolf says. “A rebellion would lead to casualties on both sides. However, if the leadership group does not voluntarily give in, I don’t see any other way in the long run.”

  Archive, Darknight 10, 3350

  The heavy buckle of the tool belt closes with a loud click. The vacuum equipment dangles from a belt loop, ready to be used. Gronolf carries his weapon over his shoulder. He leaves his quarters without saying goodbye, just as if he were leaving for daily training, which is probably what his comrades are thinking. He walks slowly toward Sector 1. Murnaka has not contacted him again and he already wonders when she will join him. Suddenly she stands in front of him.

  “What a coincidence,” he says.

  “I have been waiting for you.”

  How did she know he would be coming this way? No matter, it was probably the most likely route. Gronolf gives her a friendly wink with his front eye, but she does not react to his gesture. “Where do we have to go?” he asks.

  “The security zone is in the hub connecting the drive and the living quarters.”

  Near the sector borders there are fold-out maps in the walls. Gronolf wants to open one of them to get an overview, but Murnaka stops him.

  “I have an offline map here.” She shows him a roll about one foot long. Then she opens the map by rolling it out into a square. The map consists of a transparent material. It is not any thicker than his skin, but if you look at it from above it seems to have great depth.

  “A mobile holo-map?” Gronolf asks. He can’t help but shape his stomach fold into an expression of amazement. These maps are incredibly rare and expensive.

  Murnaka moves her hand across the edge of the map. The image zooms accordingly, so that one can eventually see the entire Majestic Draght. The vessel is cube-shaped. The spherical drive sits in its interior, like the kernel of a sea chestnut. From this drive a kind of tube leads outward; to be more precise, a channel formed by magnetic fields. Around the drive there is a structure several arm lengths thick, which surrounds it like a shell. The Omniscience is located there. The area is completely inaccessible to the crew.

  If necessary, the Omniscience will repair itself, using special machines. The drive core cannot be repaired, as it is constantly in a fragile equilibrium, like an egg balancing on its tip. Only the Omniscience is able to keep it in balance, and if it fails, the egg would burst, and the entire ship with it. It was partially for this reason the Knowledge Scientists gave the Omniscience a certain degree of autonomy. The limiting factor, as smaller predecessor models had shown, was always the fact that the crew made wrong decisions.

  Gronolf’s companion points at a tiny cube. “This is the room we have to reach and secure,” she says.

  “And we can really deactivate the Omniscience from there?”

  “No, that is impossible. Then we could no longer control the drive system. However, we can sever the connection of the Omniscience to the outside world.”

  “Then it will be alone with the drive core, in eternal darkness.”

  “You said that very poetically, Gronolf.”

  He is not sure whether she is serious or whether she is making fun of him. Yet he does not show any reaction. “Well, that is the case,” he says, “if it receives no signals from the outside world, isn’t it?”

  Murnaka seems to ponder this. She moves her touch-arms right and left. “You are probably right.”

  “Then it won’t be very happy about it.”

  “Certainly not.”

  “And what if it relinquishes control over the drive unit?”

  “Then it would kill itself. That contradicts one of its basic rules. It is not allowed to harm itself.”

  Right now, Gronolf feels quite ignorant. Isn’t Murnaka officially a learner, while he is the experienced officer? “Let’s go,” he says.

  Murnaka types something on the map and then rolls it up again. Then she pulls a kind of button from
her belt pouch, moistens it with stomach acid, and sticks it on her skin at chest height. Gronolf recognizes that it is a sound button.

  “This way the map can tell us where to go,” Murnaka says.

  This way the map can tell you where to go, Gronolf thinks. He starts to dislike this mission, because it looks as if he will have to follow an inexperienced learner no matter what happens. Yet he does not comment, because whoever awarded her the responsibility for the expensive map must have had certain reasons. He is obviously considered primarily as a protector watching Murnaka’s back.

  His companion starts moving. Gronolf follows her. This way he can at least admire her from behind.

  Soon he is no longer familiar with the corridors they are traversing. Tunnels, doors, new tunnels, and then a large room, one following after the other. At first he tries to memorize the path, or at least keep an image in his mind, but after ten turns he no longer stands a chance. They are making good progress—until they encounter the first locked door. Murnaka looks at the map, which insists that the door should be open.

  “There is no other way,” she says.

  “Good, at least that’s a change,” Gronolf replies. He takes his weapon off his shoulder. He can quickly blast through the door.

  “Perhaps it would be enough to cut through the lock,” Murnaka says, offering him a small welding gun from her tool belt.

  Gronolf is disappointed but refuses to show it. The harpoon will have its chance. He aims the welding gun at a point near the door lock and moves it in a circle around it. When he is about halfway finished, he notices a breeze. A bulkhead slams down behind them.

  “Vacuum mask,” he warns her, takes his mask off his belt, and puts it on. Murnaka does the same. Shortly afterward he manages to kick in the door. He has to hold on so that the air pressure won’t suck him inside.