Colony Worlds, page 3
“Now what the fuck are you doing? Dome One is losing mass,” he shouted.
She might have been more understanding if he had ever stopped long enough to listen to her. With perverse pleasure she watched him go berserk while she remained incognito. Her replies were cool and patronising something she would not have dared to do without her disguise.
“I’m sure you exaggerate Captain. A little extra mass here or there will hardly unbalance the wheel.”
The connection was broken before she finished.
Then something started to go wrong. The director’s office trembled momentarily. The sudden lack of gravity caught Tilley and Steve unawares. For a while they floundered around the zoo director’s office along with the furniture and Nicholls’s headless body until her father’s voice boomed in over the emergency intercom.
“How do you like them apples Nicholls!”
Tilley was furious. She hadn’t counted on her father jettisoning the dome.
“What’s the matter Nicholls? Cat got your tongue! Maybe next time you’ll pay attention when I try to learn you something.”
Unaware that her father was already by-passing it, Tilley blasted the mimic intending to shock her father by revealing her identity. She never got the chance. Like Winston she was instantly catapulted backwards by the gravitationally free recoil, right into Dome Five’s wallscreen. She hit Harriet’s worried face head first and was knocked senseless. When she returned to awareness, she was strapped into the directors’ chair and Steve was methodically slapping her about the face.
“Hit me again dickbrain and I’ll blow you away.”
Tilly reached up and winced when she touched a tender spot on her head. She noticed that there were bits and pieces of what looked like bone adhering to her revealing black body stocking. It took a moment to penetrate that it was the remains of Nicholls’s head. Disgusted she attempted to brush it off but the fragments of bone and other matter hovered close, tending to re-adhere at the slightest contact.
“Pat, take camera ten out there, Let’s see what we can do.”
“Pardon?”
Tilley looked up at the screen in time to see Harriet pointing.
“Out there where they’re congregating?”
When she checked the time Tilley was shocked, she had been out less than a minute and Harriet had taken the initiative. Fancy good old dependable boring Harriet giving orders without consultation. She would have to put a stop to this.
“I don’t think you should do anything rash Harriet my dear. I will take care of everything.”
“Who the hell are you?” came the response.
Oh shit, the mimic’s gone. Tilley shot a scathing look at Steve. Why didn’t you warn me dickhead? Her head started to throb. She couldn’t remember why she had destroyed the mimic. Too late now, the proverbial excrement had already hit the proverbial cooling device.
“All you need to know feeble brain is that the Evolutionaries have taken control of this wheel.”
For answer, she saw Harriet loom towards camera faster than it could refocus and then the screen went blank.
“I’ll be ...”
The usually brittle edge to Roderick’s Tilley’s voice was markedly absent.
“What the eff are you doing in Nicholls office Fredericka? And what was all that bullshit about evolutionaries taking control?”
Shit, Shit, Shit This was not going well, she had forgotten all about her father. She had no option now but to stand up and be counted.
“Don’t call me Fredericka you silly old fart. For once I’m doing something I believe in.”
Roderick’s cry of pain gurgled over the intercom.
Tilley was suddenly contrite. She hadn’t meant to call him a silly old fart.
“Daddy?”
VIII
Captain Roderick Tilley of the starship Noah II was not happy. Wheel four (Zoo Australia) had developed an egocentric revolution that was threatening the stability of his ship. He was about to call Zoo director Garth Nicholls to complain for the umpteenth time when the alarms went off.
With great difficulty, the captain held his temper. He was a huge man. The florid complexion under the crewcut fair hair reddened easily. It made him look always on the point of apoplexy. The huge chair in the middle of Noah II’s operations centre strained under his bulk as he ground it round to face Engineer Narungini.
“What the fuck is it this time?”
Narrugini’s grin didn’t falter.
“We show an explosion outside wheel four’s director’s office. The fire control system has been triggered. The sprinkler and fume exhaust sub-systems are operational.”
“That tears it. I’ve had enough of Nicholls and his bloody daughter. Get him on the blower.”
The call was answered immediately, as if expected.
“Yes Captain,” inquired Nicholls deep voice. The intercoms screen remained blank.
“What’s wrong with your video Nicholls?” He asked suspiciously then ploughed straight on.
“What in Arnold’s name are you doing over there? We’ve got an explosion and fire alert outside your office.”
He listened for a second then cupped his hand over the mouth piece and spoke to Narungini. “He claims it’s a malfunction. Check the bloody circuits. I want his arse.” Then he turned his attention to his primary concern. “Never mind. What have you done about the biomass in Five? You’ve had the problem for months now.”
“We’re doing everything humanly possible,” replied Nicholls’s voice. “But these things take time.”
The veins on Roderick’s neck purpled.
“You don't have any. Do you have any idea what a rotational eccentricity does to the bearings?”
“No doubt you’ll tell me?” said Tilley’s disguised voice, knowing precisely how to enrage her father.
“Listen you goddamn poofter. It only works provided the mass is evenly distributed. The only variable in this balancing act is the biological content. It’s supposed to be a negligible component but your goddamn incompetent daughter has let her dome’s bio-mass double.”
He was trying to be reasonable, trying to explain to this obvious cretin, as simply as possible, just how dangerous a mass imbalance could be. The eight Enviro-Domes were joined to a hub by a rigid umbilical from their apex. This rim-less spoked wheel rotated slowly around the main axis of the Starship to give a semblance of gravity to the domes and to the several levels of administrative quarters below each. A mass imbalance put enormous strain on the hub.
Engineer Narungini took his life in his hands to interrupt his fuming Captain.
“Whatever the fuck you want it had better be good” snarled Roderick.
Narungini pointed a finger, and Roderick’s eyes nearly popped. He was instantly back on the phone. Shouting.
“Now what the fuck are you doing? Dome One is losing mass!”
Dome One was directly opposite Dome Five on the wheel. Its mass loss, together with five’s gain, could exacerbate and accelerate the rotational instability. In a flash of insight Roderick saw that it was probably too late. Zoo Australia would inevitably tear itself free from Noah II, unless ...
“I’m sure you exaggerate captain, a little extra mass here or there will hardly ...”
The totally flat, unemotional voice incensed Roderick. He couldn’t believe his ears. He slammed the handset down so hard it snapped in the middle, broke the cradle and splintered the console.
This called for direct action. There were three other zoos rotating around Starship Noah II to consider. Zoo Pacific, Zoo America (South) and Zoo Africa. Zoo Australia was last in line, right in the middle of Noah II. If it did tear loose, it would probably fold the ship in two and send the other three wheels straight into the ion drive. Roderick decided he would have to cut his losses, if he still could.
“Narungini.”
“Yes, cap’n.”
“Unhook domes One and Five from Zoo Australia.”
“Yes Cap’n,” grinned Narungini.
Surprisingly, nothing went wrong. The explosive bolts worked perfectly separating the domes from their spokes and the small navigation motors fired on cue to lift the them away from the rotating wheel.
Roderick turned on the emergency intercom to gloat.
“How do you like them apples?” Nicholls, he roared.
The silence deepened.
“What’s the matter Nicholls? Cat got your tongue? Maybe next time you’ll pay attention when I try to learn you something.”
The reply was buried in static. A lot of loose energy about, thought Roderick, as if someone has fired a laser near the intercom. In spite of the static, Roderick caught the gist of the message and was disturbed to recognised his daughter’s voice.
“What the eff are you doing in Nicholls office Fredericka and what was all that bullshit about evolutionaries taking control?”
The last thing he would allow was to let the dammed Evolutionaries take his ship. Bloody anarchists. All they wanted to do was tear the system down. They had no idea what to put in its place. He had talked to Fredericka till he was red in the face but she always came back the next day with another way of putting the same stupid argument. Something about letting evolution decide. Hopefully, he had talked her round. At any rate she had stopped trying to persuade him. He couldn’t have stood for her becoming one.
“Don’t call me Fredericka you silly old fart. For once I’m doing something I believe in.”
Frustration overwhelmed Roderick Tilley. He gave a strangled cry and collapsed, his lungs gasping for a breath that couldn’t get through his engorged windpipe. The last thing he heard was a distorted “Daddy” but for the life of him he couldn’t make sense of it.
IX
Deep inside the artificial moon that served as the flagship for Rescue Flotilla 45 (The Spiral Galaxy) Senior Comptroller Arthur began acquiring the bold upper threads of a sensory web, his mind electro-magnetically linking into every corner of the flotilla. Twenty-two Arks from this galactic arm. Two from the life abundant third planet of the yellow system. Noah I and Noah II. Named after a mythical deity from the indigenes own past. Four wheels spun about each ark, each a geographically zoned zoo containing eight individual habitats.
A discontinuity disrupted the pattern he was weaving.
“I have a problem, Arthur” came a thought from the Comptroller-In-Charge of Ark Seventeen (Noah II).
“Yes, Arnold.” He thought in return, sending disgruntlement at the lack of any social preamble.
“One of my humans killed their director.”
Arthur communicated mixed dismay/satisfaction. He had warned against allowing this particular species out of their cage. They needed constant supervision.
“Which wheel?” asked Arthur.
“Wheel Four, Zoo Australia.” A definite reluctance associated with Arnold’s thought made Arthur apprehensive.
“Is that all?”
“Not exactly. But I think you should gather your own picture, senior.”
Arnold’s formality worried Arthur. He quickly delved deeper into the electronic fabric of Noah II teasing out the taught threads. Captain Roderick Tilley about to uncouple two domes; Director Garth Nicholls headless body crumpled in a corner of his office; (He would have to counsel Arnold about that.) The chugging pumps jettisoning the atoll's sea; Fredericka Tilley, Roderick’s evolutionary daughter pretending to be Director Nicholls.
Arthur spiralled on down through the web, gathering ever more sensory threads. Harriet Nicholls, the newly orphaned Lofty Ranges Head Keeper waiting on her father’s advice; Winston Baker sighting on the red fox as it stalked a pregnant rabbit; The rabbit oblivious to everything but feeding and protecting the burden she carried.
Arthur became so deeply immersed he could feel the steady beats of each tiny heart in the doe’s litter. With increasing speed and dexterity, he wove the threads into a complex tapestry. He wanted the big picture. Every detail of every dome of every wheel of every ark in the flotilla.
Done.
There were nine items needing attention. Two involving the problematic Zoo Australia on Noah II. Firstly, the counterweight on that wheel’s Dome Five had been left improperly secured after the initial balancing manoeuvres. It had been drifting slowly outwards but not enough to warrant correction. Now the imbalance was affecting Noah II’s trim. Re-balancing the wheel was as easy as re-positioning the counterweight on the spoke. There was no need for Roderick to uncouple the domes. Their mass had nothing to do with the problem. Secondly, there was a small leak in the Coral Atoll’s hydraulic support system. Fortunately, the leak had pooled in a natural depression above the Zoo Director’s office so the hydraulic fluid could be easily recovered. Pity about the director. His recovery was beyond even Arthur’s abilities.
“Arnold?”
“Yes Arthur.”
“I have the picture but before I start, I’d like a private word. Project to 132-44 in E-D5. Now!”
Arthur looked around interestedly as he and Arnold strolled beside a shallow creek, gurgling pleasantly over a pebble bed, deep in a forested valley on Wakefield Island.
It was, mused Arthur, an extremely interesting habitat, easy on his assumed senses. Cool air and warm sunlight softly filtered by a fragrant canopy. It was a pity its denizens didn't appreciate the effort involved in its construction and maintenance. They seemed bent on destroying it and Arnold seemed bent on letting them.
The well-worn forest trail opened on to a natural clearing where a tributary swelled the main creek. The presence of the two sensory projections went unnoticed by the grazing rabbit, the waiting fox.
“Tell me Arnold, why have you allowed Tilley to kill Nicholls?”
“I’m sorry Senior but I couldn’t get through to her. She wouldn’t respond to instruction, and I haven’t had the time to check her implant.”
In the canopy directly above, a kookaburra laughed, triggering its companion and the pair chuckled raucously for the next twenty seconds as if sharing some outrageous joke.
“It's not all my fault,” pleaded Arnold with very credible human inflection in his projection’s voice. “If Roderick had spent more time with his daughter, she might not have become an Evolutionary.”
“That’s not what I meant. You could have prevented her getting into his office just by sealing the doors. Now we are short a well-trained director unit.”
“I’m sorry, I was busy at the time.”
“Being?” said Arthur knowingly.
Arnold’s representation managed to looked shamed.
It confirmed Arthur’s suspicions. Arnold had been seduced by the feelings his charges emanated. He had become addicted to them and couldn’t get enough. When immersed, he lost track of time, himself and his duties. He didn’t just feel the heartbeats of the rabbit litter, he became one of the litter: blind, warm, nourished, without responsibility. Obviously somewhere in his early programming a flawed character subroutine had been missed and it was only now becoming manifest. His personality would have to be reinstalled.
Arthur generated a thought to Maintenance Division then set to work. He dismissed Arnold, released his own projection and turned his attention to the first item on his schedule. It was time to stop this sorry sequence of events before it got any further out of hand; before Roderick uncoupled the domes. His awareness was probing the servo motor on the counterweight when he suddenly lost the picture. All inputs went dead.
Power failure?
.
Cogito ergo sum - I think, therefore I am.
Since Arthur was still able to contemplate his predicament, he must be still be conscious. Running on batteries? In transition between power sourced from the flagships drive and the hydrogen driven emergency generators. He polled each of his CICs in turn for conformation.
.
1> Aaron?
2> Acacia?
.
17> Arnold?
.
22> Avril?
.
No response. Impenetrable blankness. The entire flotilla, all twenty-two of his starship comptrollers were silent.
How will they cope without me?
X
The Supervising AI of Rescue Flotilla 45’s automatically rebooted on power restoration. He immediately checked the universal clock pulse and updated his systems. Elapsed time since shutdown was nine minutes, eleven point seven three seconds. Thanks to his foresight he had regained his persona and re-acquired most of the tapestry.
I am ... Arthur
Replaying the recordings and integrating the new threads took seconds but the patched weave offended Arthur. It was not a pretty picture. Roderick had managed to jettison the domes after all, then died of apoplexy shortly after. Arthur was now short two well trained units. He generated an entry in his planner that he should place less reliance on rescued captives. In addition, he would have to personally supervise Noah II until Arnold was reinstalled.
Filling both vacant positions with the daughters appealed to Arthur’s sense of symmetry. Unfortunately, Fredericka Tilley like her father had proved herself unsuitable. He generated another entry to improve his screening techniques and weed out unstable personalities. Fredericka would be returned to Crystal Brook with wiped memories.
Harriet Nicholls in rising above her natural timidity to meet her crisis had showed promise. He would make her captain and her assistant director. They already had a good working relationship and showing Patricia Smith the bigger picture might alter her attitude to culling. She would be able to see that not all the domes had such an abundance of life.
Filling their vacated keeper positions was not imperative. They were really only holding positions where potentially useful indigenes could demonstrate signs of sanity. The idea of recruiting Winston and Dora had possibilities. Certainly, Winston had shown some resourcefulness in working out and then eluding the monitoring network to pursue the fox. If Dora proved to have the required level of common sense, he may even allow the couple to breed.
