Old Guy and the Planet of Eternal Night (An Old Guy/Cybertank Adventure Book 6)

by Timothy J. Gawne

  Sandipan looked confused. “I don’t know! That was never covered in my training. I’m just a tech.”

  I had wiped the worst of the goo off of my body, and I took a clean towel from the locker, and wrapped it around my waist. “Well, then we had best consult the emergency manual, shall we? And do you have any idea where my uniform is stowed?”

  -------------------

  Unfortunately my regular clothes must have been compacted in a bay somewhere, so I settled for a generic blue jumpsuit. I’m not space-trained: I had heard that zero-G makes some people horribly nauseous, but I must be a natural immune, because I took to the zero-G well.

  Sandipan led me to a wall-mounted terminal, and we started searching through the operating manuals. I will say one thing: a colony arkship has an awful, awful lot of parts to it, and an awful, awful lot of procedures.

  The City of San Luis Obispo is about a kilometer long, and a hundred meters across. The rear has a cluster of fusion drives; the outside is a jumble of fuel tanks and water storage and metal plates and pretty much anything that could add more mass between interstellar space and the delicate humans inside. From the outside it looks like a junk pile. The ship generates a strong magnetic field, and that helps deflect the worst of the charged particles, however interstellar space is nasty and every kilogram of stuff on the outside is that much more shielding.

  In the central core of the ship are the hibernation pods, with nearly ten thousand souls in frozen sleep. The ones in the very middle, the most protected, are the thousand of the chief executive and her staff: our president, when we get to our final destination. Just in front of that, and nearly as well protected, was the main command nexus, which sadly appeared to be missing in action. The rest of us were spread out along the central axis of the ship, surrounded by all the various mechanical systems and conduits and storage bays and pre-fabricated building materials that a colony ship needs.

  The ventral surface of the arkship was covered with super-powerful one-time-only thrusters. I would have thought that a ship as big as this would stay in orbit, and settle the new world via shuttle flights. Apparently the design engineers had determined that it would be more efficient to just land the entire ship in one piece on the surface. I guess they know what they are doing, but a part of me still can’t quite believe that something as big as the City of San Luis Obispo could really land on a planetary surface without exploding. But then I just work here.

  Together we managed to pull up a 3D schematic of the ship. As expected, it showed large red zones (red meaning vacuum) around the central command nexus. Most of the rest of the ship registered as intact, although there was minor damage here and there. It rapidly became apparent that trying to figure out exactly what was going on in a vessel of this complexity was not going to happen without either a lot more skilled crew, or AI support.

  I scrolled through the list of frozen colonists. The president and her staff were off limits to me, and anyway I doubted that any of them had the needed skills. For the rest… 9,000 curriculum vitaes are a lot to process. Cook, janitor, truck driver, agronomist, we had all the people needed to jump-start a colony on another world, but none that we needed now.

  I did find a few people on the manifest that looked promising. A senior power systems engineer, a computer systems expert, a generalist aerospace pilot… however these had been packed into the mass of frozen hibernating humans such that it would take a very long time to access them. The ship had not been designed to wake random passengers in transit, everything was tightly bundled and designed to unfold in a specific sequence after landing. Very efficient, and very inflexible, and very likely to get us all killed.

  I did see that two members of my original army platoon were relatively accessible. While they were not qualified to crew a spacecraft, I knew them, they knew me, and they were smart, reliable, and loyal. I sent Sandipan out to defrost them.

  What I really needed was AI support. Without it I would need a staff of thousands to run all the different subsystems of this vessel. And even if those thousands of specialists were at hand, we didn’t have the free space or resources to sustain them.

  I continue searching the online manuals. Emergency AI backup. AI reboot sequence. AI alternative. Ship mind. Ship main computer backup. In this day and age, success is so often a matter of knowing the right key-words to search for.

  Alternate Control Systems Restart Procedure. Finally, progress. All I need to do is crawl through 300 meters of access tunnel and turn a manual switch. That sounds like a straightforward task.

  I decide to check in on Sandipan and my defrosting comrades first. They are both floating free, covered with gel, shivering and jerking and looking miserable. I’m going to owe them for this. As with me, within 20 minutes they were basically recovered and coherent.

  Sergeant Anthony Villers was my age and build, but with pasty white skin and blue eyes and blond hair. “Hello Lieutenant,” he said. “Mommy, are we there yet?” That’s my sergeant.

  Private Jack Brendan was older than me by over a decade. I believe that his distant ancestry was mostly Korean. He was muscled like a mountain lion, arms covered with tattoos of roses and thorns and a face whose left half was covered with scars. “This sucks,” he said. “They didn’t tell me that waking up would hurt like this. Ouch.” Brendan has a bad reputation among people who don’t know him well, but in my opinion he is as reliable a solider as I’ve ever commanded. He’s also much smarter than he looks. Not that that’s all that difficult, mind you, but he’s not stupid.

  “Gentlemen, apologies,” I said. “No, we are not there yet. We are still in space. Note the lack of gravity.”

  “Ah,” said Villers. “No gravity, hence not on a planet. Such a subtle clue. I’d never have noticed, myself. No wonder you’re the officer. ”

  I laughed at that. I outrank Villers but we go back a ways. “This was the emergency awake cycle. I know it’s rough, my apologies. However we seem to be in a bit of trouble, and I needed people I could rely on.”

  “Well then,” said Villers, “what exactly is our problem, sir?”

  “Not so long ago I also was rudely awakened. I encountered technician Sandipan here, and was informed that the regular crew were all dead, that the ship was not responding, and could I do something about that.”

  Villers nodded. “And what are you doing about that?”

  “To start with,” I said, “I woke you two up.”

  Brendan snorted. “Not much of a start. If you ask me. Sir.”

  “Would it have been too much to ask,” said Villers, “if perhaps you might have begun by defrosting some people who, oh I don’t know, actually know something about running a spaceship?”

  “Why yes,” I said, “that thought did occur to me, sergeant, except that they are either all dead, or stuck so far inside the hibernation blocks that we can’t access them. So I settled on you two.”

  “Well, splendid,” said Villers. “So what’s our next move?”

  “The first step is to get the shipboard AI back up and running.”

  Villers saluted. “Aye aye, my Captain oh my Captain. But first, perhaps, Brendan and I could find something to wear. The private is not exactly easy on the eyes. Especially in zero-G.”

  “Very funny,” said Brendan.

  --------------------

  With my loyal troops toweled off and dressed, we conferred with technician Sandipan about restarting the AI. The maintenance corridor was sealed with a surprisingly tiny hatch, but then, every internal space in this monster of a ship was claustrophobic. I had thought Sandipan on the small side, but I bet that all the space-active crew were chosen for short stature. It would be so much more efficient.

  Sandipan slipped through the hatch easily enough, but I had to struggle to squeeze in. Brendan would have been impossible, so I left him and Villers behind to man a terminal and stay in contact via the shipwide intercom.

  We floated through the long tunnel one after the other, there being no ro
om to travel side by side. The air felt stale. I worried that airflow in the narrow maintenance tunnel might not be enough for the both of us. Hopefully we would be done and out before that mattered.

  I estimated that we had travelled halfway to the end, when Sandipan screamed and then went rigid. I had a glimpse of something shiny and jointed-metal and insect-thin moving fast on the other side of her. Oh fuck, it’s a security drone. It must have been activated after the main AI went offline and Sandipan didn’t know about it. It tried to slip past the stunned body of the technician except there wasn’t much room. It extended a stun-rod out after me, so I used Sandipan’s body to block it. It hit her again and she twitched, but didn’t scream this time.

  Dammit. It’s only got nonlethals, or I would be dead, but I am unarmed and have no room to maneuver. I pull back in the tunnel, dragging Sandipan’s body after me and using it as a shield. The security drone hummed and tried to find its way clear of the now unconscious tech. I passed a small panel with a fire extinguisher in it. I ripped it out and discharged it at the drone. The drone was temporarily blinded and I bashed at it awkwardly with the fire extinguisher. I smashed the shock rod, however the drone recovered and slipped past Sandipan faster than I could react.

  Instantly it was on me. It grabbed me around the neck with its forward limbs and started to choke me. Although skinny the metal robot was stronger than me. I braced my back against one side of the tunnel and tried to smash it against the other side, trying to get into a position so that I could get my legs in play, however it was too fast and too powerful, and I was about to black out.

  Then it let me go. I gasped for breath, and saw that it was occupied with Brendan. Somehow the big private had gotten into the maintenance tunnel and he was hitting the drone with a heavy wrench. He practically filled the entire width of the tunnel. With his heavy arms he looked like a badger defending its burrow. I took another breath, recovered the fire extinguisher, and hit the drone from behind. It whirled to face me: a mistake. Brendan had a clear shot to its rear with the wrench and the drone crumpled. He hammered it a few more times, and it shorted out and just drifted inert.

  It took us a while to get out of the maintenance tunnel. Brendan had torn the skin on both of his shoulders and dislocated one of them in his rush to reach me; getting back out of the hatch, without the benefit of adrenaline, was a lot tougher for him. Eventually Villers pulled his legs while I tried to hold his arms together, and he screamed and was dragged out. Sandipan was still breathing but she had been badly injured and was unconscious. At least her small body floated out of the small hatch easily enough.

  “That was fun,” said Villers. “Can we do that again?”

  “Fuck off,” said Brendan. The big man was in serious pain. While I have been trained in basic combat medicine I’m not sure that I know the right way to reset a dislocated shoulder. Brendan however grabbed his bad shoulder with his good arm, and then launched himself at an angle at the wall. I heard a loud pop as the joint reset. Brendan didn’t scream, although his entire body blanched sheet white. Amazingly the shoulder looked level again. Maybe this wasn’t his first time.

  Villers got some more towels and applied a makeshift field dressing to the torn skin on Brendan’s shoulders. I checked on Sandipan again. She was still breathing, and I didn’t know what else I could do for her, so I just let her drift.

  “Do you think there are any other security systems in there?” asked Villers.

  “No idea,” I said. “I’m guessing not. In any event we don’t have any other options, so I’m going to give it another try. Wish me luck.”

  I looked around for anything that might be useful as a weapon, but the big wrench that Brendan had used seemed to be about it. I wrapped my arms and neck in multiple layers of towels and jumpsuits, as a sort of padded armor, took the wrench in both hands and headed off back down the maintenance shaft.

  I was, I confess to say, a little tense at this point. Who knows what other booby-traps the designers might have left. However, it all proved uneventful. I came to the end of the tunnel, which spread out into a just slightly less cramped area. I identified the correct access panel, opened it up, and turned the big heavy switch from “standby” to “activate.”

  Auxiliary Computer Activated. Awaiting Instructions.

  Well, that sounded promising. Now if only the damn thing will take orders from me. With a small hand-picked elite crew I would not expect much security, but then, I hadn’t expected the drone.

  “This is Lieutenant Lysis Trellen, United Earth Armed Forces, serial number XXC-53423-998-B. Request ship status report.”

  Please present identification.

  I pulled up the left sleeve of my jumpsuit, and turned the barcode on my left wrist towards the panel. There was a soft whirring as it was scanned.

  Ranking active officer identified. Hello, Lieutenant Trellen.

  A relief. I was worried that the damned AI would get all snooty on me about whether I was properly authorized to speak with it… We had a course on them in officer training school. After some initial fiascos it was rapidly realized that fully sentient machines smarter than people were just too dangerous, so all AIs are deliberately created without self-awareness.

  While in some ways far more intelligent than any human, without self-awareness they have no common sense, and that can be terribly dangerous. They will sometimes neglect to tell you something critical, or they will carry out an order literally even though it results in catastrophe, but not all the time. A rifle will shoot whatever it is aimed at: enemy, friend, innocent, and we expect that, and allow for it. An AI will often warn you of the potential downsides of a given order, which lulls you into a false sense of security, which can kill you the one time that it doesn’t warn you.

  “Request ship status report.”

  Certainly Lieutenant Trellen. The City of San Luis Obispo has sustained damage to the central command nexus, and to several subsidiary systems, but primary systems are still operational. The ship’s current location is unknown. We are on a collision course with an unidentified planet. Fuel reserves are at 65%.

  “An unidentified planet? What identified planet?”

  This system cannot identify the unidentified planet, because it is unidentified.

  I should have known better than to ask that question. I’ll try another. “I have encountered an active security drone in the tunnel to this location. Are there other internal security systems in this ship?”

  This ship has no internal security systems.

  “I encountered a robotic security drone in this tunnel armed with nonlethal weaponry. Its wreck is drifting 200 meters back from this position.”

  This ship has no internal security systems.

  I’ve been told that it’s a bad sign when an AI denies the obvious. When this happens standard procedure is to change the subject, because while AIs are technically logical, you can’t reason with them. “Please give details on collision with unidentified planet. Estimated time to impact, and possibility of avoidance.”

  Estimated time to impact twelve hours. Impact can be avoided at cost of expenditure of 97% of all remaining fuel. Landing can be effected at cost of expenditure of 43% of all remaining fuel.

  So, it looks like we can avoid this mystery planet, but with no fuel, we would be as good as dead. At least if we landed we would be some place, and with a nice surplus to run the fusion generators for an extended time. However, what kind of place? “Please give details of unidentified planet. Specifically, can it support human life, and does it have any resources?”

  Unidentified planet does not fit any standard template. It appears to be a rogue planet not attached to any sun but that is difficult to determine in this dust cloud. Thermal signature indicates significant internal heat sources and surface temperatures compatible with human life. Spectroscopic analysis indicates atmosphere compatible with human life. Gravity at surface estimated at 0.97 standard G. No further data available at this time.

  T
hose conditions are survivable. Almost ideal, for a new colony. “How much time is available to make the decision to land on the unidentified planet, or avoid?”

  Twenty-four seconds.

  Fucking AIs. From the academy I recall one instructor saying that the difference between a good officer and a bad one, is four heartbeats. Or was that five?

  “Commence landing sequence on unidentified planet.”

  Confirm order to land on unidentified planet.

  “Order confirmed.”

  Landing on unidentified planet: are you sure?

  “Confirm. I am sure.”

  This time the AI broadcast its response through speakers throughout the ship; I could hear its announcements echoing down the maintenance tunnel.

  Landing sequence commenced. Landing in approximately twelve hours standard. Please return to your acceleration chairs before that time and fasten your safety harnesses. In the event of a water landing, life rafts will automatically inflate near all external hull exits. On behalf of the captain and crew, we thank you for traveling on the City of San Luis Obispo.

  The ship’s main drive started to come on line, and I was pushed back against the wall as we began to decelerate into a landing trajectory. From the maintenance tunnel I could hear Private Brendan bellowing out: “Lieutenant Trellen, what god-awful mess have you got us into this time?”

  “I’m an officer,” I shouted back. “It’s my job!”

  3. I Did Not See That Coming

  “There are no words to express the abyss between isolation and having one ally. It may be conceded to the mathematician that four is twice two. But two is not twice one; two is two thousand times one.” ― G.K. Chesterton, 19th – 20th centuries, Earth.

  I quickly became absorbed in reading the histories that the Knights of The Fortress had provided me with. The hours slipped by as, inside The Fortress, my android body leafed through the pages, and outside, my main hull made slow progress at rebuilding itself with limited materials.