The Colony Ship Conestoga : The Complete Series: All Eight Books

by John Thornton

  “Sandie? What do you think will happen?” Jerome asked.

  “Cammarry’s assessment is similar to my conjectures. I think this will be a learning experience for all involved, and we will see a new and better social order established,” Sandie answered. “The SBs and I are in agreement and the program has already been implemented.”

  Jerome looked down and wondered.

  17 slave revolt and counter attack

  Abner set the permalloy block down. He had all afternoon to trim the bushes and clean up the planters on this side of the City Hall. He wondered what had become of the strangers that he had seen. He concluded that they were probably local people playing some kind of psychological game with him, or that they were another hallucination brought on by his age and the poor living conditions he endured. Slavery was not an easy life, and he often wondered how much longer his body, soul, mind, and spirit could tolerate it.

  He was snipping the edges of a red barberry bush, using care to avoid its needle sharp thorns, when a blue automacube rolled up toward him on the sidewalk. He had seen the engineering models often, but seldom interacted with them. He remembered doing projects with them, prior to going into suspended animation, but that was a lifetime ago. He now only worked with the green ones, on the rare occasions he had mechanized help in his chores.

  The blue machine stopped next to him. It extended down its multi-jointed arm with the manipulation implement at the end. Before Abner could react, the automacube grabbed the link of permalloy that had pierced his foot for so long. With precise action it used a vibration pincher to severe the link into two parts. The chain connecting him to the block fell away. The pieces of the link of permalloy were lying in the manicured grass. The hole in his foot was gaping, its scarred edge rubbed smooth by years of toil, but he could hardly believe he was free. Abner stared at the severed chain and wonder what had just happened.

  The blue automacube rolled swiftly away, turned the corner, and was out of sight. Abner stared in wonder at the pieces of his bondage which had been removed. He then acted. Picking up the permalloy block, he carried it along as if he was still attached to it. He did not want to attract any attention to the fact he had been liberated. When he reached the caretaker tool shed, located behind some of the trees and shrubbery, he entered its relatively secluded privacy.

  He looked behind the door to the shed and found what he had seen there many times, an old and greasy set of gray coveralls. He pulled off the hatred orange clothing, which had been impossible to remove due to the leg shackles. It felt so good to rid himself of the orange suit of slavery. He slipped on the old coveralls, and relished in the sensation of a different fabric on his skin. He then took the trimming shears and chopped off the long ponytail of his hair. “Slaves cannot cut their hair!” He mocked the slave masters, as he threw the hair up into the air and watched it fall to the floor of the shed. “Orange clothes and long hair, the signs of a slave! They are gone!” He rummaged around and found a hat, another forbidden thing for slaves, and placed it on his head. He was unsure of his plan, but he knew he was leaving.

  He had just about closed the door to the shed when his eyes spied the fertilizer bags in the back. Those were used by the green automacubes to replenish the soils areas around Wolf City. There were four different types of fertilizer as well as several containers of insecticide, herbicides, alkalizing agents and other chemicals

  Abner licked his lips as he stared at the items in the shed. His mind raced quickly to the days of his youth when he had been proficient in chemistry back on Earth. That far-off time was separated not only by light years of distance, and so many years of slavery in the habitat, but also by his time before that in suspended animation. Yet the lessons he had learned were still vivid. He made a plan.

  Taking the tools, he used every day, he disassembled them. The hollow handles for his shears, made from a much softer metal than permalloy, he found to be just the right size, and there were caps which fit snugly over the ends. Setting the blades for the shears aside, he looked into the hole where the blade had come out. He nodded. He filled each of those handles with a mixture of the fertilizer, and other chemicals and carefully tamped it down. He then used a hoe to rip some of the wiring out of the ceiling of the shed. A small heating element came loose with that wiring, and it contained a tiny lufi-amalgam battery. Wrapping the wiring around the two fertilizer filled handles, and leaving the heating element at the top near where the holes for the blades had been, he fashioned a crude but effective device. Two of the wires were carefully inserted into the holes in the end of his pipes. He torn his orange slave clothing into bits and stuffed them into the holes to hold the wires in place, and keep the compounds inside. Two other wires were kept a small distance apart near the heating element. He then wound cords around the two newly refashioned and repurposed handles. “How many times have I built you in my mind?”

  He took his assembled item and left the shed. He knew he had to walk like a man, and not like a slave, but he was unsure if he even remembered how to walk normally. He tried very hard. He purposely moved his previously shackled foot in a manner reflecting his other leg, rather than the hobble he had done for so many steps. As he walked along, he held his head up, and remembered the day, so many decades back, he had walked into the Colony Ship Conestoga from the shuttle that had lifted him from Earth. That day he was proud and happy, and more than willing to strut with pride to the suspended animation repository. There he would be prepped and placed into cryogenics for the flight which would take centuries to arrive at the new world. Recalling that day, ages past, and light-years away, Abner was able to manage to walk like a normal adult.

  He saw some more blue automacubes as they were severing the shackles of other slaves. Those men and women, mostly younger people, dressed in orange, with disheveled hair, were running away as quickly as they could. A few white automacubes were doing something with the freed slaves, but Abner did not dare to look too closely. Whistles began to blow, and the yelling of planet-born slave masters was echoing around the buildings on Wolf City’s main street.

  “There it is,” Abner said as he spotted the despised location he had as his goal. It was a deep-red colored permalloy building with a horizontal white sign with gold colored letters proclaiming, ‘Slave Training and Domicile.’

  Abner’s memories of his time in that building were the complete opposite of his memories of first coming on board the Conestoga. The beatings, the sleep deprivation, and the verbal brutalization would never leave his mind. It was all so different than he had expected when he was awakened from suspended animation. The first thing that happened when he was re-animated was the driving of the permalloy loop though his foot. That pain would always be seared into his consciousness. Then those who re-animated him had chopped his tracking chip from his arm. That pain was minor compared to the agony of his foot, but it too had lasting consequences. He had even tried to explain that he was an educated man and was ready to work for the good of everyone. His first master had said to him, ‘Shut up or die. There are lots of other sleepers we can wake up if we have to kill you.’

  Today, things had changed. Today things would change forever.

  Abner walked directly up to the hated building. Several patrolmen were trying to control the crowds of people who had gathered around it. They were yelling and crying out and arguing.

  “Where are they?”

  “All my slaves are gone!”

  “A blue cubie cut loose my slaves!”

  “A yellow and a white stopped me from capturing a runaway. You must fix this!”

  There were many comments like that from the crowds, and they were yelling over the top of each other. Additionally, many in the crowd were chewing vigorously on sticks of lek between yelling at the patrolmen. No one noticed Abner in his coveralls, with his newly chopped off hair covered by a hat, and carrying his device. He pushed his way through the crowds until he had reached the main doorway to the Slave Training and Domicile building
.

  Finally, one of the patrolman, who was pushing back at the crowds noticed Abner. “Get back! The slaves here have all escaped! We are unsure how. Get back! Just get back!” The patrolman yelled right into Abner’s face.

  “The slaves have all escaped?” Abner asked. A sly smile crossing his face.

  “Yes… what is the matter with you?” The patrolman asked as he saw the joy radiating out from Abner. “Did you chew too much lek?”

  “No. I just never thought this day would come.”

  The patrolman’s eyes grew wide as he looked down at what Abner was carrying. Before he could yell out anything, Abner placed the two wires on his device together. The heating element circuit was completed. The handles grew warm for just an instant before they both exploded.

  Kaaaablammmmm!

  The blast pulverized Abner’s body and shattered all who stood around him for twenty meters. Body parts, belts, patrolman gear, and other things became shrapnel which flew into still more in the crowd. The detonation wave bounced off the permalloy of the building without doing more than leaving a bloody smear which had been people, but it continued onward knocking down a dog about a block away. The dog yelped as it righted itself and ran inside it home. The sound reverberated throughout Wolf City’s main street.

  The shredded remains of several patrolmen were splattered across the words ‘Slave Training and Domicile’ just before the heat of the explosion melted the paint off and charred the sign into illegibility. The wounded called for help, but there was no one to hear them, except for other wounded slave traders. Abner’s explosion killed most of the patrolmen of Wolf City, and injured a large number of people. None of the medical automacubes came to tend to the injured, as every injured person had identification tracking in them, and via the new triage procedures, these injuries, immense and life threatening as they were, did not receive priority treatment. Instead, the white automacubes were continuing their task of helping the freed slaves.

  The effects of the explosion were not only felt at the now ruined slave training building, but also spread across Wolf City. For Abner’s explosion was heard at the City Hall building where Parson Frederich was seated in the comfy chair of his office. The light from the sky tube was shining in on his well-upholstered furniture, it also warmed his nearly bald head. He ran his hand along the rim of hair he did have which was cut short, and then he stroked his neatly trimmed white mustache.

  He had a pot of pansies on his desk and their red, purple, white, and yellow petals were very pretty. He had his clear permalloy window cranked open allowing the fresher air from the habitat into his office. City Hall and especially the offices on the second floor all smelled of lek which was distasteful to him. Virtually all the other people in City Hall chewed on lek, and when indoors the smell would become nauseating to someone who had never developed a taste for the narcotic combination of herbs delivered in small brown sticks. Parson Frederich was such a person. He never cared for the taste, the smell, nor the thought altering effects of lek. He certainly helped to organize its production, distribution, and encouraged its use, but it was not for him personally. It was just a tool in his empire of control.

  The explosion was unscheduled, and not part of Parson Frederich’s agenda for the day. It startled him. He disliked surprises. Lifting his considerable bulk out of his chair he took a few steps and looked out the window. There was bedlam on the main street. He barked out several orders, and one of the clerks rushed to his office.

  “Parson Frederich! What has happened?” Leonard said as he rushed in. Leonard was tall and lean, unlike the short and fat Parson Frederich. He clutched a clipboard to his chest as if it were a shield.

  “We need to find out, that is why I called you,” Parson Frederich said. “It probably is a power equipment explosion or some other machinery failure. Get a blue cubie to help you, but go and find out now.”

  “Yes, Parson.” Leonard rushed from the office.

  Parson Frederich sat his rotund body back down at his desk and activated his intercom. It had several direct links to various places in City Hall and also long distance couplings to the Town Hall in Aston at the other end of the Habitat. His ring-encircled fingers pressed the buttons for the Police desk which was on the main floor.

  There was no answer.

  He pressed another link to the Slave Training Center, but that returned a negative function sound. He drummed his fingers on the deck, and rubbed his chin in thought. He tried several other links, but no one answered anywhere in City Hall. With only a slight hesitation he switched the intercom to make a coupling to the Town Hall of Aston.

  “This is Parson Opal,” the woman’s voice returned from the intercom. “Hello Frederich.”

  “Hello Opal. How are things in Aston?”

  “Frederich, how good of you to ask about my health and well-being. Your compassion and caring know no bounds.” Opal was chewing as she spoke, and Frederich recognized she had just taken a bite of lek.

  Several people screamed on the main street and their voices rang through his office. Frederich glared at the window as if his stern look alone could make it close. Then several police whistles blew, followed by a loud voice commanding, “Get on the ground now!”

  “Oh I can hear you are having some difficult in Wolf City,” Parson Opal said with a sickly sweet tone. “I will disconnect now, as I am sure your considerable management skills are needed for someone more important than I am.”

  Parson Frederich stared at the intercom buttons as he heard the click of the disconnection. “I would strangle that woman with her own lek if I could find someone else to manage Aston.”

  Leonard and Patrolman Bernice burst into his office. Leonard was sweating so much his shirt was stained down the front and the back. He was still holding the clipboard, but also was biting his fingernails.

  Patrolman Bernice’s green uniform was torn, and her usually neatly kept hair was unkempt. She blurted out, “There is a slave revolt!”

  “Nonsense,” Parson Frederich replied as he stood. “You both know what the laws says, ‘You may re-animate male or female slaves from among the sleepers who lie among you. You will bind them with permanent chains. You may treat them as your property, passing them on to your children as a permanent inheritance. You may treat your slaves like this. But the habitat people, especially your planet-born neighbors, must never be treated this way.’” Frederich placed both hands on the desk to steady himself as some more yelling came from out on the street. “It is the divine order of things. So how can there be a revolt?”

  “Parson Frederich, the blue cubies are cutting the permanent chains. A bomb exploded at the Slave Training Center. Most of the patrolmen are dead,” Bernice reported.

  Frederich sat down heavily. He breathed out a long sigh. “The cubies are helping the slaves?”

  “The blues are,” Bernice reported. “I have seen that, and heard that the whites are as well. No white cubie came to help the wounded from the bombing. The red downstairs still obeys me.”

  “This must be the work of outside agitators. This must be squelched immediately. How will the farms and plantations operate without the slaves?” Frederich muttered. “You say the red cubies still obey you?”

  “Yes, Parson,” Bernice replied. “I did see some strangers who said they were from Aston. They were wearing spaceman costumes. Did they do this?”

  “How would I know that?” Parson Frederich snapped. “Wait! Spaceman costumes? There is no need for that since planet-fall. Agitators! They may be re-animates who were not properly processed. Did they speak bombastic nonsense? We have been warned that some with licentious plans to release the flesh will come to entice slaves to escape from their righteous positions. They want to set slaves free, what a perversion.”

  “They spoke funny, strangely. Said they were from Aston, went across Bridge Zero,” Bernice reported. “I saw them when I came out of the Police door.”

  Parson Frederich pointed a chubby finger at Leonard. �
�Get word to everyone that all the red cubies are to report to the City Hall immediately and be given orders by whatever patrolmen are here.”

  “Yes, Parson,” Leonard stuttered and slipped away.

  “Patrolman, you will take your red cubie and use every possible method to stop any further escaping slaves. Kill as many as necessary, we can always wake up more, but they are not to escape. When the other red cubies get here we will head across Bridge Zero and find these agitators.”

  Patrolman Bernice departed as Parson Frederich considered what to do next.

  There was an insistent beeping on his desk from the intercom. The light was flashing next to the link for the Town Hall of Aston. With a smirk, Frederich tapped on the button.

  “Frederich! The slaves are revolting!” Opal’s voice cried out.

  “More revolting than usual?” Frederich replied. “Slaves always look revolting, so what is the difference today?”

  “You know what I mean, you obese tub of manure. The blue cubies are cutting the chains and some of the slaves have attacked their owners. What caused this?” Opal took a bite of lek and chewed noisily. Frederich could see how she looked in his mind and it was not a pleasant sight.