“Where was that AI Heddlu?” Ken asked.
“AI Heddlu is currently serving in an unknown capacity in Ida’s biome, but that is unusual, and I am trying to comprehend why my logs were accessed. Initially, I surmised that AI Heddlu would be able to render assistance to you and answer your questions about that Hanger 5 location, but other considerations are being revealed.”
“Ida’s biome?” Janae asked. “That is where we are headed.”
“That is where Kimberly is, and where they locked down the scout,” Ken added.
“I did complete your hypothetical scenario, and have come up with a possible course of action,” Doctor Ule said. “A printed version is being made now, as part of your discharge planning. You are welcome to it. I do warn you, it is all dependent upon the last reports from units outside of this clinic, and many of those reports are decades old. I cannot guarantee the accuracy of the deck plans, nor can I condone this action, or even give any projection on its possibilities of success. I do wish you well.”
Ken walked over to the treatment counter, and retrieved the printed materials, two pages of a slick material which reminded him of something between old-style paper, and clothing materials. It was printed with a map, and with a few highlighted notes.
Janae pulled it from Ken’s hand, looked at it, and exclaimed, “There is no door there.” She gestured toward a wall of the lounge where food was served out of niches. Just as she was looking, the food dispensers shifted as the wall itself rotated on hidden mechanisms. A new corridor was revealed.
“Huh?”
The other entrances of the clinic slammed shut and locking sounds were heard as the doors sealed.
“Until now, Ken was not ready for discharge, and I kept the auxiliary access passage closed,” Doctor Ule stated. “I suggest you depart immediately. Unforeseen events are unfolding.”
“A new passage? Why so helpful all of a sudden?” Janae asked with suspicion in her tones. “I must have asked you a million times about the deck plans and locations around here, but you were always evasive.”
“New facts are coming to my awareness. Claims which you both made—which I rated as dubious—regarding conflicts on the Trailblazer are being confirmed, and that is in addition to the evidence which proves you originated on Earth. The recent indirect contact into my logs, by the AI Heddlu, was unexpected. Now, I am getting remote readings of a security automacube accompanied by four humans heading toward this clinic. Initially, I thought this was a response to my previous requests for assistance, but I am unable to link to that security automacube, and it is not transmitting recognition codes which a legitimate police unit would broadcast. They have been destroying apertures and surveillance devices as they travel. There is a second group heading here, from a constituent joint on the needle ship, also doing vandalism and ruining equipment. That second group consists of seven beings with significant physiological mutagenic alterations. Both groups are armed with weapons which are regulated by the Lethal Weapons Act, but are displaying none of the required security clearances. The mutagenic beings did just transmit a demand of sorts toward this clinic, in reference to something about an infant. The details are difficult to comprehend, and I am not certain of either group’s goals, but they are hostile. Since my duty is to protect my patients, I have provided you will a means of escape, via the auxiliary access passage.”
“Tants?” Janae said, more as a warning than a question.
“Security? Butterfield and her cronies, maybe,” Ken wondered aloud. “Doctor Ule, did you summon these people here?”
“Obviously, I did not. Please flee now. I will protect patient confidentiality, and not relate any further information about either of you. Good luck to you both,” Doctor Ule replied.
A whining shook the clinic walls, and the door furthest from Ken and Janae began to glow a dull orange color.
“The clinic is obviously not a fortress,” Doctor Ule stated, “and the doors will not withstand sustained assault by energy weapons. Flee now.”
Ken and Janae—their gear on their backs and in their hands—ran into the newly revealed corridor, Ken was studying the map he had taken back from Janae. The food dispensing wall rotated and concealed the passageway just as they left. They then sprinted away.
Thump!
The door which had been glowing orange was sheared off its hinges, and fell away from the threshold frame. It crashed into a treatment table and toppled it onto its side. Sparks flew from the ruined medical devices, but Doctor Ule rolled over and activated a fire-suppression system.
The red security automacube rolled into the clinic, its triple-barreled muzzles shifting and seeking targets.
Butterfield walked in behind the automacube. She was wearing black armor, with gray letters, “RIOT SQUAD” across the chest. The only strikingly colorful thing about her was the red stripe across her face, visible behind the clear permalloy visor. Her hair was covered by the helmet. Strapped to one arm was a circular shield of clear permalloy, and in her other hand was an energy weapon. Without the billowing clothing she usually wore, Butterfield’s rangy, small, and perky-breasted frame was revealed, even beneath the armor. Behind her, three more people marched in each in similar attire.
“Where is Ken?” Butterfield barked out.
“Welcome to Medical Clinic 14CFJ7. I am medical automacube 87V-2-ULE, but you may address me as Doctor Ule. How may I be of service to you?”
“Where is Ken?” Butterfield asked again, as she scanned the clinic. The eight treatment tables which had not been ruined stood empty. The lounge was empty, as were the workstation, lavatory, and other areas.
“This clinic does not have anyone here at this time. Is there a medical issue you need addressed?” Doctor Ule asked. “Security had been alerted to your breaking and entering.”
“We are security. Princeton! Search every nook and cranny here,” Butterfield commanded, and Princeton ran off, her feet barely making any sounds as she darted across the clinic, nimble, swift, and fleet as a deer in the forests of Ida. Princeton naturally held her weapons at the ready, while her intense eyes peered out past the stripe of red across her cheeks and nose. If her gaze had been an energy weapon, the room would have melted, as she scanned everything with her unrelenting observational skills. An excellent shuttle pilot, Princeton was an equally good hunter.
“We know someone was here,” one of the others stepped forward. His face had a white stripe powdered across it, but that too was the only color visible aside from the black police riot armor. He kicked the white automacube, knocking it onto its side. “Do not trifle with us.”
“Irwin, no need for that. Now is not the time for such brute force. Not yet,” Butterfield instructed, and turning to Birmingham she ordered, “Apply my countermand, to that machine.”
Birmingham, who also had the white powdered face, indicating his masculine identity, set the automacube up on its wheels, took a yellow device out of a thigh pocket, and set it on the small display screen at the rear of the machine.
“You are not authorized by Machine Maintenance to do internal alterations,” Doctor Ule began, but then the countermand glowed yellow and the automacube stopped speaking.
“Connecting was as simple as herding a bull,” Birmingham stated, as he adjusted the controls on the countermand, “this automacube has not been updated for decades. It must have been isolated here since the Encounter.”
Butterfield stepped closer, “Do not just assume things. It was working with Ken and Janae, and something was taking place. Speak less, listen more, be wiser.”
“I popped the other doors open,” Princeton called out. “Nothing within visible range. Different from Ida’s corridors, a lot more exposed, but similar to most of our small clinics in basic layout. Butterfield, this is a poor place to defend.”
“Oh, we are not defending, not here,” Butterfield replied, “we are searching and seeking. Irwin, go and join her, but both of you keep alert and watch for Ken and Janae. They are trick
y and slippery, like leaves blowing in the winds of autumn.”
Irwin and the security automacube took up places at the entrances.
“Countermand in place, and all systems are on audio override,” Birmingham said. “It will listen to you now, and obey.”
“White automacube, what is your function and designation?”
“As I informed you upon your arrival here, I am 87V-2-ULE, but you may address me as Doctor Ule. I am part of the medical staff here with the primary goal of serving the health care needs of the people who live in the shell of this habitat. Most of those people who in industries, but I also serve the Isle of Pines habitat dwellers who might need specialized care.”
“Well, then, Doctor Ule, you will now tell me everything about Ken and Janae. Beginning with where they went.”
The white automacube shook, and quivered, but remained quiet.
“Stubborn machine. I guess the lack of updates keeps this one locked into its core programming more than I expected.” Birmingham adjusted the countermand device and it glowed a brighter color.
“Doctor Ule, please assist me. Where are Ken and Janae?”
The white machine shook at an ever-increasingly rapid vibration, but still it did not answer.
Birmingham smacked the manipulation arm of the automacube down, and physically reset the countermand directly onto the very top of the machine. “The counterman now has direct flow into this tenacious unit. I have only seen security models stand up to this level of interrogation.”
“Doctor Ule, you know I will find them eventually. They cannot be too far away, and I honestly do not want to further damage your components, but I will get answers. Consider, how will you help meet the health care needs of anyone if you are just a pile of slag?”
“I will not be able to meet anyone’s needs, if I violate patient confidentiality,” Doctor Ule’s mechanical voice stated, but it was weak and filled with static. “I refuse to violate core standards.”
“Standards change with time. What you do is your choice. Consequences happen for every choice. Birmingham? I believe we have gotten to the point of brute force.”
“Do you want me to help?” Irwin called from where he had been listening.
“Perhaps next time,” Butterfield responded. “This is more Birmingham’s bailiwick anyway. You are better with tants, and he is better with machines. You each have your specialty area.” Then addressing Birmingham, she ordered, “Have my countermand rip whatever it can from the memory of this automacube. Collate the data, send it into my multiceiver. I will sort through whatever remains of its consciousness later.”
“Right!”
“Destruction of equipment is a crime. You have already committed breaking and entering. Crimes are punishable by incarceration, or other means,” Doctor Ule said and its manipulation arm swung quickly about, while the six drive wheels spun ferociously. Birmingham knocked the automacube onto its side in a smooth motion, while also throttling up the countermand device. After just a few moments, the manipulation arm collapsed to the floor, and the wheels spun in ever decreasing rotations, until just one wheel was turning so very slightly.
“Data transfer complete,” Birmingham stated. “Like an empty cantaloupe, this machine is sucked dry.”
“A shame, truly,” Butterfield stated. She had holstered her weapon and was assessing the multiceiver she held. Walking into the lounge, she sat at the corner workstation and linked in her multiceiver to the basic display which was there. She shut down the few educational programs which were built into the workstation and linked in a method to contact the Ida biome. “Diego? We have secured the clinic. Prepare to receive a large transmission.”
“See? That shuttle I arranged, was fine. I told you I would find you a passageway to get there. I know the space ways better than anyone, and that countermand must have worked on the hanger bay controls there as well. Another of my suggestions,” Diego’s voice came from the multiceiver. “Happy to hear everything I did worked well.”
“Obviously, my dear boy, it worked. My countermand works, just as I designed it to work. I am sending an automacube’s entire log and records over,” Butterfield held back a more stern rebuke which was jostling about on her lips seeking to decapitate Diego’s flaunted ego. The technology in Ida was needed, and Diego was just a tool to be used. “Confirm the transmission’s reception.”
“The transmission arrived. Well, some shattered remains of some automacube, 87V-2-ULE. Yes, that arrived and is here for processing,” Diego affirmed.
“Link me in with full functionality. Oh, there it is. I will contact you when you are needed again,” Butterfield shut down the link to Diego.
Reviewing her multiceiver, Butterfield quickly found what she sought, “Doctor Ule’s consciousness and memory log is now available.” She then accessed Doctor Ule from inside its own recorded memories. Butterfield did not enjoy eviscerating machines, but had done it enough to be very proficient. Were it not for the fact that she was in a different biome, she would not have contacted Diego at all. Perfunctory intermediaries annoyed her. Briefly scanning the last few log entries, she whistled out, “Interesting.” Raising her voice, a tad bit, she called, “Princeton? Would you step in here for a moment?”
Princeton hustled from the doorway where she had been observing.
“Did you notice anything with that wall, there?” Butterfield pointed to the food dispensing units.
“A rather limited supply of meal options, but serviceable enough. Are we needing food for the return flight?” Princeton asked.
“Princeton, there is a passage behind that wall, and the wall opens. Did you miss that?”
“What?” Princeton’s eyes stared at the wall, and then she slowly nodded her head. “Regrets,” she put her chin on her chest, “I admit, I see it now. I should not have missed it, even though that passage is very well hidden. I can barely make out a few of the seams, and not even the whole door’s edge. I should not have missed it.”
“We all make mistakes, Princeton, but that is also where Ken and Janae escaped.” Butterfield adjusted her multiceiver and sent a signal using a code stolen from Doctor Ule. The wall with the food dispensing units rotated open. She then issued another command, “Security automacube, pursue our prey and capture them. Non-lethal force only, but hurry. The male is my prime concern, try to minimize damage to his pretty body and face, but he must be captured.”
The red automacube sped down the corridor.
Butterfield disconnected the multiceiver, and stood up. “Shall we collect our prizes and return?” Looking at Princeton she flippantly asked, “I assume you can still pilot a shuttle, to get us back to Ida?”
“Of course, I can.”
“Well, do not dawdle, we have some people to round up,” waving her hands she gestured toward the corridor. “Pity this medical clinic will no longer have any staff, but that is a worry for anyone stupid enough to live in the Isle of Pines. Fate is not arbitrary, but fate is created.”
Marching after the red automacube, Butterfield wondered if she should alert the others that Doctor Ule had detected a second group moving toward the clinic, but dismissed that thought. She drew out the energy weapon, and was reassured by its feel in her hand. Feeling something with solidness and power in her own hand, under her control, was always comforting. Her personal weapon, shield, combined with the weapons carried by the others, and especially the arsenal on the security automacube, would overcome any local resistance that might be offered. After all, the Isle of Pine imbeciles were not a high-tech society, and ignorant people were seldom much of a threat. She felt the tightness of the riot armor, and while she preferred the flowing garments which she typically wore, the armor was an added measure of safety, and the uniform did tend to illicit a sense of fear from those who saw her.
The corridor was narrower than most, being only about two meters wide, but was about four meters tall. The lights in the ceiling ran as a stripe, lengthwise to the corridor. Brigham and Irwin sprint
ed away, eager to catch up to the red automacube, while Princeton stayed close to Butterfield as they walked along.
“How far ahead are the escapees?” Princeton asked.
“Further than they might have been had you found that secret door right away,” Butterfield chided, “but everyone makes mistakes.”
Passing a junction, Princeton hesitated and put a finger to her lips. Irwin and Birmingham were in the distance, just catching up to the security automacube, they were not the source of whatever had caused Princeton to pause. Both Butterfield and Princeton were listening intently, eyes searching for something.
“Tants!” Princeton cried out a warning, just as the ceiling exploded open. Brown, sticky goo poured down from the opening. Acting quickly, Princeton slammed into Butterfield knocking her away from the deluge, but getting caught in the gunk as it fell.
Terror on the Trailblazer Page 6