Bootstrap Colony

by Hechtl, Chris

  When he came up to a herd he had the trucks pull over. Carefully he pulled out the Barrett, made sure he was using standard rounds, and then climbed through the rooftop hatch to aim. He took a hadrosaur behind its right flank, it dropped. The remaining herd began to honk, turned away from him. Just for the hell of it he shot another, this time a juvenile. It staggered for a few steps, and then dropped with an anguished cry.

  “ED perimeter detail,” he called, and then checked the area as he reloaded the rifle, then switched it for the Bushmaster. The robot took up position nearby, turned on its hips from time to time.

  “KITT pull both vehicles up to the first kill.” The trucks lurched, and then drove side by side to the kill. It took a bit of grisly work to gut and toss the offal, then winch the carcass on top of the security truck. The second juvenile was easier, smaller it had a slightly different crest, but not as much mass.

  Mitch took a moment to look over the feathered covered creatures. From the ankle down they were bare skin like the books and museums had it, but the rest of the body was covered in feathers. The muzzle was more beak then muzzle, tipped with horn. A peacock array of colored feathers was on the back of the neck. “Going to have a hell of a time plucking this over sized chicken,” he muttered, grunting as he pulled it up. He was going to need the extra protein, more for the cheetah to supplement their diet then for himself.

  He finished cinching the second one to the roof of his back up hummer and was climbing in when the brush off to his right started to shake. “Warning, Hostile class red predators detected,” the ED said turning it's torso to the threat. Hastily he got in, and then ordered ED to load up.

  Mitch watched as one Rex, then another came out of the trees. Softly they growled, turned their heads back and forth. Their nostrils flared, sucking in the scent of blood. “Scavenging obviously. Biggest damn turkey vulture I have ever seen though,” Mitch observed softly as he pulled out. One of the animals looked up and roared, it took some steps after him.

  He thought he was going to have to order ED to shoot it until it turned its head to see one of the juveniles greedily sucking up the offal. With a roar it turned, then chased off the juvenile to take over the spoils. “Get away, stage right,” Mitch snorted, putting words to action.

  Chapter 6

  Days go by and he didn’t think about the Amazon village. He completed the entrances, even hung the doors. The kitchen entrance will need something different, either a ramp or a drawbridge, or both.

  He had been forced to do the change over after seven days. The lower caverns had flooded, right up to the rim of the Great Hall floor before he had returned the flow back to normal. Getting things sorted out had been a race.

  It had been a wet, almost back breaking and sometimes terrifying experience to redirect the water back to the exterior waterfalls. Now that its natural course had returned it was turning the turbines beautifully. He now had enough power for the entire base.

  Setting up the sewer processing center had been a smelly job but someone had to do it, he thought to himself with a smile. There had been a few leaks, but eventually everything had been ironed out. Now the sewage from the base would flow through tubes to the processing plant to be either fed to the tilapia or processed into fertilizer. The waste water was partially cleaned, then dumped downstream or sprayed over the compost piles.

  He checked the iron deposit, finding a good supply easily on hand. He took a truck load back with him to feed to the factory. Right now all it could supply would be rebar until he could find other metals for alloys.

  He spent several days taking the six hummers out with trailers, moving equipment, a mini skip loader, and robots, while bringing back loads of raw ore. The smelters were going to go through it fast though, He mused darkly. The slag would just have to be dumped.

  A week later he encountered a group of hunters under attack by a raptor pack while on his way back to the iron deposit. The pack had them treed, circling the tree and leaping menacingly at them from below. Mitch knew it was only a matter of time before someone fell or a Raptor caught a dangling leg. A flash bang drove them off. “You ladies need a lift?” he called up to the tree as he pulled up.

  One by one five women made their way down the tree. They dusted themselves off, warily looking around them. A blond had her mouth open, and was wiggling her fingers in her ears. “Sorry about that,” he called, loudly. He noted the red headed Doctor behind the woman.

  The red headed woman shook his hand and introduced herself as they climbed in. Her name was Sandra O’Connell, Doctor O’Connell, or Doc OCK to her so called friends. She gave the snickering girls a dirty look. “Was that your drone?” she asked.

  Mitch nodded. “Yes Ma’am, I put it up to do some exploring.”

  “Thanks for that, you saved our bacon.”

  “Well at least the deer, and most likely your hide,” he teased. She snorted, lips puckering in a not quite smile.

  “He probably sicked them on us,” one of the women muttered darkly. “You’re from the government?” she asked suspiciously.

  Mitch turned to her. “No ma’am, and no, I didn’t lead the Rexes to you. A bit of the other way around, they led me to you,” he said. Doc nodded thoughtfully. “When I spotted the Rex pack I noticed they were stalking something, which led me to you,” Mitch explained. Some of the girls nodded, the doubters quieted.

  “I am sorry about that last visit,” Doc sighed. “We haven’t had it easy the past couple months.”

  He nodded. “Oh, there are some MRE’s, drinks, and some sandwiches in the cooler here if you ladies are hungry,” he said. He patted the small fridge behind the rifle rack. Doc needed no more urging, digging in. She sat back in the passenger seat to unwrap the sandwich. One by one the other ladies pulled out a sandwich or MRE.

  “So, what’s up Doc?” he asked chuckled as she coughed with the sandwich. She gave him a glare.

  “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” he said with a grin.

  She sighed. “Well, we were planted down in that little spot and haven’t moved, it has been one problem after another,” she said and patted her chest. She sighed in frustration and took another bite.

  Three of the other women help Doc take turns sketching in their past four months. He found it interesting, and a bit frustrating.

  “We were doing okay, but some of the guys were a bit aggressive,” Doc mumbled.

  “Too aggressive?” He dodged around a rock.

  “Aggressive? You call raping Lisa a little too aggressive?” the quiet woman in the back suddenly screeched, eyes flashing.

  “Damn, I didn’t know. Is she okay?” Mitch asked, looking at the woman through the rear view mirror.

  “She is none of your god damn business,” the woman ground out.

  He sighed. “I hope you punished the guy.” He gave her a look. The girl nodded curtly, curling her lip.

  “You could say that,” Doc said, looking green, and then turned away.

  He noted a small herd of wompi deer being spooked out of the brush. “Hang on a sec, here,” he said. He pulled up, and then pulled out the Barrett. Doc looked up concerned, but then hushed the others as she watched him roll down his window and aim at the nearest deer. “Quiet now, cover your ears,” he ordered. The bark of the rifle was sharp, the bite of the bullet even more so. The deer went down in a shower of gore. “Not much left for meat, but I don’t have a hunting rifle small enough not to do that much damage,” he said. He sighted again and caught a buck as it leapt in retreat.

  Two of the women got out, and rushed to the kills. He shrugged. “I guess you’re a bit hungry.”

  He looked to Doc, who nodded. “Yeah, we have been getting a lot of meat, and not much of a balanced diet.”

  He sighed. “I was afraid of that,” he said. She nodded, eyes troubled...

  The women came back with the carcasses; he had them toss them into the back of the truck. As they entered the path to return to their home, a voice in the back asked “How come
you still have fuel?” He looked in the mirror. The little red headed girl was asking.

  “My vehicles do not run on gas.” he explained. He pointed to the partially covered solar panels on the roof with his free hand. “I swapped all my vehicles to run on hybrid electric,” he said. She nodded thoughtfully digesting that little tidbit.

  The angry doubter snorted. “That is just delaying the inevitable,” she said snidely.

  He looked at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Once you’re out of gas your truck won’t run very far,” she said, lifting her nose at him.

  He shook his head. “Miss I don’t use gas. This is an electric hybrid. It runs on electricity or hydrogen. I have an electrolysis machine back at base that keeps all my vehicles topped off.”

  “Where is your dog?” The little freckled red head asked, changing the subject. He welcomed the change; he was getting uncomfortable and annoyed with the doubter. He didn't care for pessimists and skeptics.

  “Max? Oh, I left him back at base. He was getting to be a handful each time I stopped. He wanted to go off chasing stuff.” He snorted.

  “Oh,” she said in a small voice. “I am Cassie by the way, Cassie O’Donnell,” she said introducing herself.

  He looked at her, and then at Doc. “I thought I saw a family resemblance. Younger sister?”

  Doc snorted. “No, the little hellion is my daughter,” she said. She watched the path.

  He nodded. “Good to know.”

  They pulled up to the gate and piled out. The ladies got the deer, holding them up to the gathering crowd. The mistress and brunette came quickly. Trying to hustle in leather probably chafed Mitch thought in amusement and then snorted. The brunette was trying to walk dignified, head high, chest out, like she was on parade. The fast pace of her counterpart spoiled it however.

  He found they were still doing poorly. The kids were doing bad, he handed out a couple MRE’s and then decided it was time to leave when the dominatrix swelled up angrily as she got closer. The brunette caught up, almost out of breath. Not enough for her to keep from ranting he noted sadly.

  A religious woman with her, a new priestess he noted. Seeing the priestess made his heart sink, she had sunken cheeks of hunger, but her eyes burned with the eyes of a fanatic. Great, a zealot to get everyone to toe the line.

  “Just dropping your folks off, they seemed to need a hand,” Mitch said, waving an airy hand. Cassie and the Doc nodded, murmuring thanks to him.

  One of the guards got a whispered briefing from one of the other huntresses, and then turned. “Thanks for the meat umm... Mitch?” He nodded. It seemed like getting anything out of some of these women was like pulling teeth.

  “No problem, I thought you could use it,” he replied. Doc nodded but her eyes said to get out of dodge. He pulled out an MRE case and dropped it at Doc’s feet. “Hope this helps too.” He gave her a look. She nodded.

  The ranting from the priestess was picking up steam, more than he can ignore. He turned to her, temper flaring. “Miss, I don’t know you, can you tell me what your problem with me is? Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot.” He cocked his head, watching her and the mistress. The crowd around them quieted.

  “Go about your business. Nothing for you to see here,” the mistress called to the crowd, tossing her head back to the village but never taking her smoldering eyes off of him. When the crowd dispersed she glared at the lingering Doctor. “I thought I told you to stay in the village?” she demanded. She was angry, hands on her hips.

  “I took a hunting party out,” Doc shrugged, clearly defiant.

  “You know the laws; you are not to leave the village without permission!” The fanatic ranted, hands on her hips, jutting out her chin.

  Doc gave her a dirty look. “Oh put a sock in it Diane. I was trying to get food.”

  The fanatic’s nostrils flared, eyes bulging. “You...”

  The mistress cut her off with a flick of her wrist. “You may go now Doctor.” Doc reluctantly gave Mitch a look, and then picked up the case. “You will leave that at my hut for distribution.” The mistress called over her shoulder. Doc’s shoulders stiffened.

  He cocked his head at the two women. “Ladies.” He opened the driver side door.

  “We do not need your kind here!” the fanatic snarled, strutting up to him.

  “And what kind is that miss um... Diane is it?” he asked. He realized it was more fun to be polite and watch her rant. Being polite just made her look more and more stupid to him and to others secretly watching and listening.

  She glared. “Men,” she snarled. She spat on his chest. He gave her a long look, coldly staring into her eyes as his hand rested on the butt of his pistol. It took her a moment for her to react to the implied threat, he felt cold amusement as her eyes widened in sudden fear and then she warily stepped back. He sighed. “No problem then,” he said simply. He got into the truck, and pulled off.

  Seven weeks later and spring was now in full bloom. It was taking a bit longer than he had thought it would, he wasn’t sure if the planet had a longer solar rotation then Earth’s did. It was heating up though; already it was eighty out on average. For all he knew it could already be summer. He hoped not, he still had a lot to do.

  Reluctantly he culled the first rabbit and broiler generation, keeping three of the bucks and all the does, but the remaining bucks were one by one stunned with a stick. At first he was nauseated by the idea, let alone cutting them open and removing the offal. It was one thing to kill an animal while out hunting, quite another to kill something he had raised literally from birth.

  After the third he decided to try the dead rabbit as is with one of the cheetah. Fur, offal, and all. After all, in the wild they have to deal with it when they make a kill he reasons.

  He tossed it into the pen through the food chute as the cheetah paced back and forth. They needed their own run he reminded himself wearily. The cheetah chirruped questioningly, and then started to play with the dead rabbit. After it sank its teeth into it then it was all business, growling and tearing into it. He watched for a moment, and then shrugged. “To each his own,” he said and followed words with action, tossing each cheetah a dead buck.

  He decided to wait on culling the other nine bucks, keeping them in a separate hutches until he needed them. Feeding one per cheetah every other day should help a little. The three he dressed out he skinned, tossed the skin in the composter, and then cut the meat up and cooled it. The offal had been fed to the cheetah. The book directions were pretty good, explaining step by step how to take care of everything, from birth to slaughter. He blessed the foresight of getting it, and taking the survival class that required him to slaughter his own meat. It was still gross though.

  The first generation of broilers were doing great; he had kept a quarter of the roosters. The remainder had been slaughtered. Removing the feathers had been tricky and messy, but necessary. His larder was slowly filling up.

  The chicks were coming regularly now; he had switched half the layers and broiler hens to laying fertilized eggs with the judicious visits by the local roosters. The incubators were kept running full time. Now he had hundreds of cute fuzzy downed chicks chirping under sun lamps in boxes and crates. With luck he should have a good next generation to expand, as well as plenty for later slaughter.

  He was a bit concerned about tuberculosis, according to the books it was a major problem with chickens and cross contamination. All of the animals he had brought over were vaccinated for TB, Tetanus, and everything else they could think of, but they could still be carriers. He had only a finite supply of the vaccines in storage as well.

  The geese were laying too, a few had hatched eggs. The turkey’s were a different story, a bit harder to hatch, only a few survived. They required constant monitoring, and the damn things were just too stupid. He had to repeatedly show them where the water was, and one had somehow found a way to drown in the water tank.

  One had been squished in a corner when its clu
ster had a panic attack; the bodies had gone to the cheetah. He had slipped a plastic sheet into the corner to try to round the edge, but they found other ways to get into trouble. Only a dozen chicks were left, the hens had stopped laying too. He wasn’t sure about having many more Thanksgiving turkey dinners in the future.

  He had even made the first harvests, carrots, peas, tomatoes, and others were harvested and stockpiled. Seeds were replanted. Tomato, strawberries, cucumbers, and other plants were everywhere; he had hung them in buckets upside down early on, now he had waterfalls of plants he picked over daily for fresh food. The MRE’s were rarely used now.

  He had made the move into the cave; it was much roomier, if a bit gloomy. He put the cats and dogs up in the bedroom wing. He even had a mushroom closet going on the second floor. Most of the mushrooms would be used to feed the pigs. He only needed a few for a couple meals anyway.

  The base was shaping up; he was finished with the first planting, and had even poured the cement for the courtyard, as well as the footings and bases for the giant greenhouses. The first was almost ready for assembly.

  Getting the servers up to the second level had been an interesting challenge. It had taken a lot of work to get them broken down into small enough packages to carry up the spiral stairs the Andy robots had assembled. Two more stairs were planned, one in a nearby chamber between the Great Hall and the barns, and another in the bedroom wing leading to the isolated chamber and then the chimney shaft.

  Getting the central AI net up and running was a simple plug and play experience, taking only an hour to get everything up and booting. Once POST was completed he had it integrate the network, running diagnostics and checking for errors.

  The base AI was a voice address system networked into all the robots, vehicles, and surveillance systems. With it up he noted a rapid jump in robot productivity. That allowed him to return his attention to the base expansion. He turned one of the store rooms into a walk in refrigeration chamber. It had been a tricky affair, but after going through the manual a half a million times he got it sorted out. Whoever wrote the manual must have written the ones for electronics, totally incomprehensible he mused.