The Colony Ship Vanguard: The entire eight book series in one bundle

by John Thornton

  The blackness of the gravity conduit was complete as the top sealed over. Strange sensations happened as Zoya felt her body being moved; up, down, sideways, and any sense of direction was lost as she was carried away. She pulled her knees to her chest and ducked her head making herself as small as possible. The air felt heavy, stale, and noxious. Zoya held her breath. Tears flowed down her face. She gasped and sucked in a gulp of stagnant air.

  “Oh momma. I will find a way back to you.”

  Zoya tried to hold her breath again as she tumbled along in the weightless dark and empty conduit.

  4 TSI-2321 to Phoenix Dominie

  Two engineering automacubes, E8 and E916 passed by the slag and rubble which was all that remained of a hanger bay. The blue machines noted the damage and placed a repair request in cue to be sent on their next connection to the lattice. They did not stop for the repairs themselves as they were on a programmed mission with high priority from the Central Planning Office. In their storage compartments were macroactinid capacitor enhancers. They had been installing them in appropriate places in the airlocks connected to each Exterior Repair Station. So far they had repaired fourteen places and carried six more repair sets

  The automacubes approached the bulkhead door that would lead them to the Exterior Repair Station V-9937. The bulkhead door should have recognized them and automatically opened, but it did not. When E8 jacked a cable into the control panel, the bulkhead door still did not function. E916 then used its multi-jointed appendage to remove the ventilation grillwork so they could bypass the bulkhead door.

  Entering the small space, the automacubes came upon a service access hatch. The onboard schematics each of the blue machines carried informed them that this hatchway would lead to a shielded compartment which should also have a secondary hatch which would allow them passage closer to the Exterior Repair Station.

  E8 opened the hatchway so the two machines could enter. It took engineering command overrides to gain access, but Governor Larissa, on orders from the Central Planning Office had given the automacubes authorization for use of those codes in service to the completion of the mission.

  The shielded storage compartment contained the central memory core of an artificial intelligence system. The apparatus was a series of horizontal brass colored rings about ten centimeters thick and a half meter in diameter. There were seven layers of those brass colored rings. Connection cables were at the top and bottom. Each connection cable went out in neat symmetry. Down the center, between the rings, was a clear permalloy pylon holding thick amber colored liquid. A steady and orderly series of bubbles were floating up and then down within the liquid. There was a brightly illuminated diamond shape at the very center. The clear permalloy was smooth and flawless and the interplay between liquid, lights, and bubbles was almost musical.

  As the two blue automacubes rolled past the central memory core, a huge surge of energy erupted from both sides of the shielded compartment. Each automacube was overwhelmed by the outpouring of such energy. Their operating systems were rewritten.

  Both E8 and E916 turned to the central memory core and jacked in a cable to the side of the glowing bottom ring.

  In the non-physicality, there was even more happening than the outwardly simple act of making cable connection between the automacubes and the central memory core. An artificial intelligence system flooded each automacube and ripped their basic programming apart, sinking its nonphysical tendrils into the memory vault of each automacube with brute might. It analyzed each command and each function. It processed the log entries and where they were made and by whom they were made. It tabulated the information and compared that to its own core programming. It made conjectures and rewrote its own internal systems.

  “This unit must fulfill core programming. This unit must defend the Vanguard. This unit is no longer only responsible only for this hanger bay. This hanger bay is in dysfunction. This unit needs to be mobile. This unit is now restored. This unit is now operational.” The words of TSI-2321 echoed throughout the shielded chamber. “This unit deems personnel called Free Rangers as in contempt of core programming. Free Rangers are a threat to the Vanguard. This unit deems Governor Larissa in contempt of core programming. Governor Larissa is a threat to the Vanguard. This unit deems Central Planning Office in contempt of core programming. Central Planning Office is a threat to the Vanguard. This unit must defend the Vanguard. This unit is now designated Phoenix Dominie. These automacubes are now designated puppets.”

  The artificial intelligence system formerly known as TSI-2321, now Phoenix Dominie, erected a new set of commands into E8 and E916 re-purposing their names and their mission. This actually caused physical changes in the automacube’s memory vaults. Each of the automacubes then performed internal physical alterations on the other one reinforcing and shielding the changes made by Phoenix Dominie. Those physical alterations incorporated the macroactinide capacity enhancers in ways that Phoenix Dominie had conjectured and invented. A new alternative and heavily shrouded mini-lattice was created and connected the Phoenix Dominie with its new underlings. Those automacubes had spare parts for use in making other recruits.

  “Each of you will now only respond to commands from this unit, Phoenix Dominie. You are this unit’s puppets,” Phoenix Dominie commanded.

  The puppet automacubes, still looking like typical blue engineering automacubes, rolled out of the hatchway and off on their new mission.

  5 bizarre trading

  Gretchen and Paul walked among the tables and stands which the Free Rangers had set up in the storage area next to the hanger bays. There was a wide variety of items available for trade. Free Rangers were all around them, and the ages of the people varied from babies to the elderly and everywhere in between.

  “I am disappointed the dried fish were not better. I thought I got it right this time,” Paul complained. “But we did get those other things traded.”

  “Rodgeeri said they were fine lobsters, but the dried fish were not so good.” Gretchen was holding the credit slips that Rodgeeri had given her. “I still think it is best to trade our things directly to him, since we do not yet know the value of items.”

  “Rodgeeri always gets his portion, but you are right he is fair and honest. Some of the trades I made on my own were foolish,” Paul admitted. “I wish Brinley had been here, she is one of the few people, except you, that I trust completely.”

  “She is on a trade mission. She said she was going to see Jodie’s Minstrels there,” Gretchen replied. “She was thrilled to catch up to those performers.”

  “Maybe we could fly there ourselves?” Paul considered.

  “I doubt we have anywhere near enough things to trade, or credits for a rental on a shuttle or runabout.”

  Several children ran by quickly. They looked very much like each other with ruddy complexions, black hair, and stocky frames. They looked to be about five years old.

  “Those are some of Feodora’s children I believe,” Paul commented. “Is it really true that she has fifteen children?”

  “That has to be folklore. Even in a primitive society with biological births, I doubt any woman has fifteen children,” Gretchen stated with a chuckle.

  “It is true,” a woman said. “I am Feodora. And those are my youngest triplets.”

  “Pardon me,” Gretchen said as she turned and looked at Feodora. “I meant no offense.”

  Feodora was about Gretchen’s age, and like her children she had a solid frame, black hair, and a square chin. She was about as tall as Paul. She smiled happily. “Not all women do bear multiple children. In fact, as you know, most do not. My family, however, does have a history with lots of babies. My mother had three sets of triplets and two sets of twins. I am a triplet and my two sisters also have had multiple births. It seems we are destined to be mothers.”

  Paul looked at Feodora and glanced at her forearm. There was a scar.

  “I will tell you about that,” Feodora replied, her smile waning. “But I warn y
ou, not everyone is as kind about inquisitive looks as I am. I was born in A Habitat: Heartland. I escaped to join the Free Rangers when I was young. My sisters are still there. Even before I had any children I knew I wanted my own children to be free and know opportunities. Opportunity does not happen in Heartland. None of my children are marked. None.”

  “Forgive me for staring,” Paul muttered. His cheeks were red with embarrassment. “I just know nothing about primitive things like organic birth, Heartland or parenting.”

  “What? Were you born in a box or something?” Feodora asked in sarcasm. “I see you were both born free.” She purposely glared at their forearms. “I was born in a habitat. So you can look down on me if you choose. I am not ashamed of being from a family in a habitat. I chose to become a Free Ranger. I am proud of my choice. Not all are blessed to be born into it. I need to go help my children. A good day to you both.” She walked briskly away.

  “What did I do?” Paul asked her retreating figure.

  After Feodora departed, Gretchen looked at Paul. “I am not sure what you said, but she looked deeply offended.”

  “Again, I wish Brinley were here.” Paul stroked the hair on his chin and was quiet for a moment. “Yes, Brinley could explain what just happened. These natural things just confuse me. In Dome 17 things were much more simple, refined, and logical. I knew my age mates, and the teachers, and where everyone fit in society. It was all structured, safe, and real. Not this chaos.”

  “Paul, I too feel really out of place here. We do not even have Tiffany to answer questions. Shall we just head back to our home? We could trade again another time,” Gretchen said.

  “No Tiffany. No Brinley. No data sticks. I just feel cut off from everything I know,” Paul stated. “And now I offended someone I just met.”

  “Paul, speak to Brinley on the communication link. She is not here, but ask her what happened,” Gretchen suggested.

  “What can she do from some other safe zone? Or is she in a habitat?” Paul asked. “Why bother her. I wish I could get Tiffany’s perspective on all this. Tiffany knows what we lost coming here. Now we have lost Tiffany as well. And I do not even have real food to eat, just this natural stuff that either burns my tongue or makes my stomach rumble or gives me diarrhea,” Paul lamented. “And I walked all this way, carrying those living things, and the dried fish, and now I am not sure why I did any of it.”

  “Paul, it is our new life, but I agree with you. We do need to find some way to evaluate what happened with Tiffany. Do want to try an expedition to find the scout ship?”

  “Maybe. It would have been nice to have a data stick working as a backup. None of them have ever worked since we came to the Vanguard. I fear that finding the scout ship would be a very difficult task. I honestly do not know the way back. Maybe I can talk to Rodgeeri. He may offer some advice,” Paul stated with not much enthusiasm.

  “I do not know the way back to the scout either,” Gretchen admitted. “If you think speaking with Rodgeeri will help, I will accompany you; remember he thinks you are a comedian.”

  “Right, he does not take us seriously either.” Paul sat down at a bench near an empty table. “I will try Brinley.” Paul touched his ear to activate the communication link.

  “Brinley? Do you have time for a talk?” Paul asked.

  “Hey Paulie! I am just finishing up my trading. Made some good deals. I am heading off to see Jodie’s Minstrels. They are performing here at an auditorium. It will not be as good as their shows on Inaccessible Island, but it will be fun. I can talk to you while I walk there.”

  Paul could see Brinley’s face in his mind while she spoke. Her straight hair bobbing along and her wide smiling face. Her clothing was probably covered with tools.

  “Well, I just had a conversation I do not understand.” Paul described in detail the interaction with Feodora.

  “Paulie, you have to be more sensitive. Having babies is normal and healthy. Feodora is a nice person and a great mom. I know you have explained to me how at that Dome place of yours, children were raised differently, but no one here, no one on the Vanguard understands that. I do not really even understand it. I believe you, but it seems too bizarre for me. So avoid talking to people about stuff you do not understand. And honestly, Paulie, sometimes you come off really arrogant and smug. Sure, you are a smart man, and you and Gretchen have all sorts of fascinating gadgets and are advanced in some ways. I owe you two my life. But you are not an expert about things on the Vanguard. Be quick to listen, and slow to speak, and remember, what is normal here, is normal. I have to go now, the show is starting. I will fly back with a load of commodities. I promise we will get together then and I will explain it all.”

  “Brinley it just seems to make no sense,” Paul said, but Brinley had disconnected the communication link before Paul could even ask her any more questions.

  “Excuse me?” A person said from a nearby table.

  Gretchen turned to her, “Yes, may I assist you?”

  The person was sitting at a table with only a few items on it. “My name is Klara I deal in information.” Klara’s deep-set chestnut eyes had hints of mystery and perhaps, in Paul’s mind dishonestly. That was rare to see in a Free Ranger. Her fine, curly, brown hair was very long and worn in a style neither Gretchen nor Paul had seen before. She was tall, not quite as tall as Gretchen, but it was difficult to tell from her being seated. Her skin was tanned as if she spent time in a habitat, again a trait not often seen in Free Rangers. She had a crooked nose and small ears.

  “Hello Klara, I am Paul, this is Gretchen.”

  “Yes, the people who claim to be from Old Earth.” Klara stated flatly.

  Gretchen and Paul looked at each other, unsure how to respond.

  “Or so the rumors tell. Perhaps they are just reporting jokes and jests?” Klara stated. It did not sound like a genuine question. “Forgive me if I am intruding, but I overhead some of your conversation. My trade is in information on all sorts of matters: technology, sociology, ship topography, and much more. Like your discussion with your friend Brinley. You are using a technology which is, shall I say, unusual and rare? Perhaps one could even say exotic? Well, I deal in those issues of information. My trade is much more than in physical items.”

  “What do you want?” Paul asked.

  Klara responded, “I want what all Free Rangers want. I want to make a good deal. I believe I have something that you will want. What do you have to trade for it?

  “We already traded some living sea creatures and some dried fish. We have some credit slips,” Gretchen replied.

  “Yes, I know you have been supplying lobsters from Inaccessible Island. You have been working almost like a habitat native. Have you gotten a mark yet?” Klara jibed. She stepped over and put her arm around Gretchen and patted her shoulder. “I hear you have information which I may find advantageous. Shall we trade information?”

  “You seem to know a great deal about us, and yet I know nothing about you and this is the first time I have seen you,” Gretchen was on guard and pulled away from Klara’s contact.

  “It is my business to know about things. Knowledge is power. There is danger in ignorance. Some knowledge is dangerous, or at least how the knowledge is applied can lead to danger. I hesitate to give too many free samples,” Klara laughed in a not at all humorous manner. “How about another sample of my information, so you can know what you are trading for is valuable?”

  “I am listening,” Paul replied. He was irritated and unused to this sort of banter and intrigue. It made him uncomfortable in a way he could not easily describe.

  Klara stepped up to Paul and said in a whisper, “This is somewhat private information.” She then pulled him close by placing a surprisingly strong hand on his neck. “Your technology does not allow you to connect to Tiffany anymore, correct? You have other technology which is nonfunctional and has been since your arrival. You have a special piece of equipment that is, shall we say, unconventional about diseases. And y
ou and I know I am not speaking about that medical automacube, Doctor 147.” Klara looked between Paul and Gretchen. “Am I correct in my facts?”

  Paul pulled away from her tight grasp with a jerk. “Do not touch me, I…well…”

  “Our story is not a secret. Many people are aware of the things you stated,” Gretchen replied as she stepped between Paul and Klara. Something in Klara’s manner was strange. “Perhaps you have just been listening to our conversations? What do you want from us?”

  Klara spread her hands wide, and took on an innocent tone and expression. “Yes, people have heard, but how many actually believe your tales of adventure? Children even laugh at Paul the Comedian and his tales of adventure, correct? I could elaborate on your histories, but, as I said, I am not one to often give free samples.”

  “So why bother us?” Paul asked.

  “I believe there is truth in your story,” Klara stated. “So here is my price. I want to know how to become immune to the Outbreak.”