The Pattern Ship

by Tobias Roote

  Its final act was to shut itself off to await a change in circumstances.

  Now inert and lifeless except for the occasional electronic beat that pulsated across its shell, the pod would remain that way for millennia.

  - 2 -

  It had been raining heavily over the last week, saturating the English countryside and swelling local rivers to overflowing. The curtains of water lashing down day after day were just part of the annual ritual of the English weather.

  The overflowing fields and plains always preceded summer’s abundance of wild greens which formed a natural preserve, considered by the countrified gentry to be an area of outstanding natural beauty, which was just their subtle way of keeping the property developers at bay.

  This year was looking to be the worst on record. Water had risen fully a foot above the previous highest level recorded. The date on the old Norman church wall built at the edge of the sea town’s floodplain was etched with the year 1815. The punt, attached by a rope tether, to the old iron ring next to the date had long since fallen into disuse. It now languished submerged and rotten, still hanging untended from the ring ; a telling testimony to the change in the way rural folk managed this naturally occurring phenomenon.

  Sown fields desperately clinging onto their tender shoots of wheat, corn, rapeseed or whatever else the farmers had planted this spring, were now completely waterlogged, in real danger of drowning or being swept away in the swelling waters of the incessant rainfall.

  Rural roads running through hills and valleys, dipped below the waters at every turn, leaving unprepared drivers stranded or sitting on top of their shiny motors as the water pressed hungrily around them as they awaited rescue by the local tractors.

  The farmers, charging a nice little earner for recovery, felt that it was fair recompense for ruined crops, and so maintained a nonchalant air of country-styled patience while pocketing their good fortune where they could.

  Unseen, and therefore of no concern to the locals except perhaps a few of those living on eroding cliffs, the growing quantity of underground water increased to unusually high levels with nowhere for it to go.

  The saturated clay buried deep in the ground served as an impenetrable barrier, forcing the mass of water now accumulating in the underground lakes to purge itself further along the border between clay and local soil.

  The increasing pressure forced the water to forge new paths of lesser resistance, pursuing all possible exits.

  It finally uncovered a source of release where a newly exposed weakness allowed it to seep in dribbles down a nearby cliff side.

  At first it just trickled, making little progress, just pushing out small lumps of soil here and there. Eventually, the relentless back pressure pushed through and forged a path for itself as it gushed harder, until a widened hole grew where it could run freely down the side of the cliff in a wide stream to the pebbled ground below.

  Over the next few hours, the water pressure continually increased its escape velocity, pushing out through new weak spots in the cliff-face, until with just a few tremors and hardly a sound over that of the storm, a whole section of cliff wall burst falling away in one massive chunk.

  It hit the beach below, leaving the pounding seas to begin the process of cleaning the loose dirt and soil away in the persistent rush of waves. The spring tide was raging in the storm. It broke continually onto the new fall, adding to the breaking momentum from the released water, washing away mud and silt in huge quantities, sucking it back through the undertow to leave only a small amount of flint, stones and muddy rubble exposed to the air.

  By the morning of the fourth day, the storm had blown itself out. The clouds cleared and the tide retreated from the pebble beach, leaving the diminished mound exposed to its first sunrise in millennia. As the sun climbed into the sky, the heat of the day steamed away surface water, and mud began to crack where the clay dried out too quickly.

  The approach of midday brought the sun to its Spring zenith, and in the cracks that had dried and expanded throughout the morning, a glint of reflection was just hinted at. Within a few minutes, the sun moved on and the reflection disappeared.

  Over the next few days, the sun continued to beat down on the sodden shores. The cracks in the mud continued to widen. As they did, that which was buried slowly became more exposed, and that which had glinted began to reflect for longer periods.

  Finally, still protected within its crevice, the glint developed a timorous glow, as deep within the mound, the drying grains of soil began to vibrate as though the echo of distant trains were causing tremors.

  Over the next week the weather alternated between wet and dry, breaking down the edges of the crevices. The gleaming object slowly began to emerge from the mud. Where it once reflected light, it now absorbed it, seeming to reflect the colours of the mud and silt around it.

  Difficult to see and back in towards the cliff in what was still very dangerous territory, the object remained hidden from the fossil hunters and beachcombers. It continued undisturbed while continuing to slowly excavate itself from the surrounding soil.

  By the sixth day it was resting completely in view. Now, if one could see it without its strange refractive camouflage, one would be reminded of a tear-drop, only this one was close on a meter in length and half that in height and width. Its surface was totally without blemish. In fact, considering it had been buried for millions of years, it looked absolutely immaculate.

  It was also awake.

  - 3 -

  The moment the planet’s sun touched the surface of the pod’s outer skin, its receptors clicked on, drawing in the few glimmers of energy directed through the crack in the hardening mud. It was nowhere near enough to bring the pod’s processes on-line ; its automated collectors activated by the alarm remained in a waiting state sensing the proximity of heat and atmosphere.

  It waited, running algorithms acknowledging its programmed options matrix had changed. The next time the sun’s energy hit the solar collectors on its shell, it was ready to absorb every millisecond of power. With that power came the realisation that its long period of dormancy was coming to an end. Carefully balancing the small amount of power it was accumulating, the pod used its anti-grav jets to vibrate, loosening the hold of the surrounding earth.

  Vulnerable in its present state, the pod enabled its cloaking at the lightest level, attempting to conserve as much of its power as possible until ready to free itself completely.

  By the fifth cycle of solar charge it was able to operate internally, bringing essential systems into standby mode. By the sixth cycle it was on-line and receiving sufficient power from the planet’s sun to charge its repaired power cells to their minimum level.

  The pod’s support routines turned on its central processors and awoke its maker.

  As Zirkos regained consciousness, he absorbed the information that the pod’s systems had been collecting for the last six periods. He noted the log showing the use of the last of its dwindling energy as the pod submerged in quicksand with no means of recharging its power cells. It had correctly diagnosed its options, completed what repairs it could, then gone into hibernation.

  The automated distress signal the pod emitted had been swallowed up by the surrounding ground. It would have been highly unlikely for any rescue drone to have discovered them. There were no registered signals coming in on the security bands, so evidently no other Apostles, or T-ships were within range of this solar system. He also knew he was well off the beaten track here.

  Using external sensor arrays to ascertain his position in relation to immediate threats, Zirkos decided it to be far from ideal. He needed to put distance between him and potential discovery.

  Deepening the intensity of the pod’s cloak and activating shield level to ‘hull only’ he quietly and totally unobserved, manoeuvred the craft to the top of the cliff dropping it into shadow as he did so. Checking that it still had enough power to handle any emergency, Zirkos came to a decision and set course to a
position 200 clicks above the surface, and initiated the ‘Dematz thrust’. For the few seconds it was uncloaked, it remained unnoticed by the local inhabitants.

  A few moments later the pod emerged above the planet’s north pole. Zirkos increased the shield depth to four times the size of the pod. The power reserve was low again, meaning it would need to remain here until fully recharged. Replacement of the remaining damaged power cells was also a priority.

  In ‘pattern mode’ Zirkos was effectively a sophisticated artificial intelligence. For the time being he had to remain so, until he had sufficient grasp of the availability of materials required to initiate a T-ship rebuild. He had no doubt he could find the required materials within the system, but currently there was insufficient urgency to proceed beyond complete recovery of the pod’s systems.

  Instead, he deepened his investigation of his surroundings. Discovering the planet below had now developed to the stage of early space travel, the disembodied consciousness monitored their basic communication channels, becoming aware as he did so of the rudimentary structure of their language, sciences, social structure, government and technology. They were humanoid like him, when he’d had a body and that made him wonder at their evolution. He made a note to investigate this phenomenon more closely.

  The pod linked into data streams using the satellites the humans had set-up which was extremely slow and cumbersome, but easy to bypass security and scan imprint everything they needed. By the time he had finished recharging the working power cells, he had a complete list of objectives to carry out on the planet below.

  The transport systems used by the humans on the planet were extremely crude. Whilst they would eventually evolve into space worthy vehicles, extending beyond their existing solar system would be an impossibility without some major leaps in their existing technology. Yet, they were on the cusp and just needed a few nudges in the right direction. Zirkos was not currently considering providing those nudges. However, the future might force him to revisit that decision so he shelved any long-term commitment.

  The pod was certainly in no danger of discovery. The level of technology on the planet was clearly inferior and Zirkos decided that the best option to move forward was to establish themselves at a remote location on the planet and organise a new shipbuilding programme from there.

  Zirkos was certain that the patterning technology could emulate a human physiology as, although their brains were large, they only used a small portion of it. Zirkos could probably map most of his own memory into their cranium capacity. What wouldn’t fit in could be inserted using some bio-arrays in the chest cavity to handle the extra processing required. A permanent neural link to the onboard systems in the pod would give him sufficient ability to manage in the human form until the T-ship was rebuilt.

  Now, all he needed was a pattern, and for that he was going to have to go down there and obtain the materials on-planet.

  - 4 -

  The shadowy figure huddled in the cold night, leaning against the wall at the back of the diner. It was dark. The street lights, a fair distance away, meant he could keep an eye on the complete length of the alley from where he waited. In this part of town, it paid to be careful.

  Zeke had fought for weeks to take over this one cul-de-sac. It was now his exclusive territory and nobody had tried to muscle in for a month. The last one who had tried was still in hospital.

  It wasn’t that he was a violent person. He had simply been given no choice when the other man had come at him with a knife in each hand and a frenzied look on his face. Zeke knew he had to finish it as an example to others, or there would be more fights and more pain. As it was, he barely overcame the madman.

  The sound of the back door opening brought his mental focus back as light flooded into the alley, cutting off his ability to view beyond. No matter, it was his territory ; only a fool would cross him here and try to muscle in.

  The framed light of the doorway reflected around a big shadow, accompanied by the sounds of chopping and scouring from the kitchen behind. The man stepped out with a garbage bag in one hand, a paper bag in the other. Tossing the garbage into the dumpster, he left the paper bag on the corner. After looking left and right, he turned and walked back into the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Zeke waited a few seconds then stood, walked to the dumpster, and took hold of the folded top of the bag, assessing its contents by weight and bulk. It was heavy tonight, the heat from the outside told him it contained coffee as well as a decent meal. Sweet ! he thought. Hopefully a cancelled order as well as leftovers.

  He left the alley, keeping close to the shadows, walking the short distance back to the park.

  Watching carefully for unwanted attention, he slipped through a railing and behind some overgrown trees. He quietly negotiated dense bushes, running alongside a building adjoining the green zone, until he came to an old rough-painted metal door near the back.

  Slipping inside like a shadow, the well-oiled hinges giving nothing away, he stood inside for a second sensing all was quiet. Then hooking the catch to secure the door he made his way to the small room that he called home.

  The room was locked. He palmed the key sliding it into the lock swinging the door wide open. Remaining cautious and outside the direct opening, he peered inside, noting all was normal before he entered and closed the door behind him, flipping the latch.

  Crossing the room to his makeshift table, he sat down in the dim light provided by the black metallic desk lamp that he had wired into the security light, and opened his food bag. He had not eaten all day, and keeping his strength up was starting to become an ordeal.

  There were worse things in life than being a street nobody ; he wasn’t on drugs, or drink. He was just one of the many thousands unable to cope with a structured and orderly life. He could handle such a life, but was on a watch list, so had to keep below the government radar.

  Inside the paper bag were the major remains of a triple burger, fries and large coffee which now sat in front of him.

  He piled in, demolishing the fast food meal in a few minutes. Then, sitting back, he savoured the coffee. He now felt faintly nauseous from the rushed intake of calories, but he would survive for another day.

  With food taken care of, Zeke turned his mind to his other recurring problems.

  He needed a job. The trouble with that was, to get a job, he needed an address. Which then raised the age-old ‘Catch 22’ situation. To get an address, he needed a job. Zeke also needed a new ID. He could get the ID and fake the rest IF he could get hold of a computer and some other gear to protect himself while he hacked into the government’s computers.

  Zeke wasn’t a thief, nor was he a degenerate, but he did have a problem with society, and it with him. He had been badly injured in the Gulf and now had a lovely piece of shiny metal over a third of his skull. Nothing would grow over it and, for some reason, no amount of cosmetic make-up or plastic would stick to it.

  The damned thing had been forged of some exotic metal in a backstreet surgery and fitted as a temporary replacement for his skull, smashed in from a sudden impact with a wall as the chemical weapons factory blew up. The local hospital had a blacksmith make it up until he got back to the US.

  By the time he was returned to the US as an exchange of prisoners, the metal cap had settled in and bonded with his grey matter. Worse still, they discovered it had been smelted from metals recovered from a meteorite and was even now leeching rare unknown poisons into his bloodstream.

  The end result was a faint silvery glint to his skin, particularly around the face and neck where the concentration was highest. The overall physical effect made him unpleasant to look at and scary for young kids. So he kept away from people. It was easier and kinder than spooking them.

  He was supposed to be regularly checked by a team of scientists, but they were more interested in the effects of the metals on his body than they were of curing or helping him. After months and months of their tests which became
more and more invasive, Zeke had decided enough was enough. He decided to escape their clutches as he wasn’t interested in their scientific discoveries and they weren’t interested in him.

  So what if the damned stuff was making his skin tougher.

  So what if his metabolism was changing.

  He was damned if he was going to be their guinea pig if they didn’t have the common decency to take care of him as a human being.

  Now, though, it was tough going and he needed to get himself a step up. His thinking was centred on a possible raid of a pawn shop nearby that had recently received most of the equipment he needed. He could do it, it just went against all his principles.

  This weekend, he decided. He would do it in the early hours of Sunday when he knew he would have the best opportunity of remaining undiscovered until Monday. It would be a ‘piece of cake’ : his military years had taught him all he needed to know to get in and out.

  ***

  Zirkos had finished the geological scans of the planet below. They needed certain elements to reconstitute the T-Ship and, whilst all the materials were available, some of the quantities were scarce and spread around the planet.

  Others were deep below the liquids the inhabitants referred to as water. He wasn’t too sure of what it was actually called as they also referred to it as sea, ocean, river, lake and stream, and that was just in one language.

  Different languages amongst the indigent species of a planet were usual, except these were all of the same species. It was interesting, but of no logical or scientific value. Zirkos selected the most universal language and had the translators teach him that one. The others would filter into his consciousness, as and when time permitted.

  While doing all this, Zirkos researched many of the patterns he had in the archive the last time he had melded with the brethren. There was much advanced technology within, and he gleaned as much as he could that was available within the time span he had allotted. Zirkos missed his corporeal body and wanted a ship to house it in - soon.