“Perhaps you have not been instilling the proper attitude in your slaves. You know, sometimes the lek will muddle your mind, limited as it is already,” Frederich sneered.
“I heard yelling in Wolf City, so quit your lying and tell me what is happening. Otherwise the lek crops around Aston will not get harvested, and you will not get your share from the plantations.” Opal was as close to panic as Frederich had ever heard.
“Your red cubies should still be working. Set them to exterminate the vermin, and we will re-animate more as needed. It will probably only take a few dozen deaths for the runaway slaves to realize it is better to be an alive slave, than a dead escapee.”
Frederich heard Opal shriek out some commands, and one of her patrolmen replied. He smiled at her discomfort, but then heard rapid fire popping noises from his own main street. A red cubie was firing a lethal projectile weapon.
“Goodbye Parson Opal, and good luck!”
Parson Frederich pulled himself together and waddled to the doorway. He considered shutting his window, but the smell of lek from the hallway was even stronger than usual. The administrators, clerks, and other workers in City Hall were chewing on lek far faster than normal, and yet they still looked anxious and worried.
Frederich got into the elevator and descended to the ground level. Here he encountered a mob of slave owners who were yelling and complaining and harassing the file clerk behind the counter. The clerk was doing his best to answer, but he had no definite responses and was overwhelmed.
“The Parson is here!” Many voices in the mob called out. “What is happening?”
A chorus of disjointed questions were hollered to Parson Frederich. With their words came the reek of lek coated breath. He waved his pudgy hands in front of him to clear the air. He looked at the mob and knew he needed to preach a word of comfort and hope. Otherwise the mob would not be under his control anymore.
Parson Frederich then called out, “Good neighbors! Friends! Citizens of Wolf City! Disciples of Goddess Araceli, listen! There has been a crisis, but all is in hand. A malfunction of the blue cubies has taken place, but the red ones are still operational. We will have the slaves exterminated on sight, unless they submit to our divinely appointed, righteous, and proper authority. As it is written, ‘Slaves, obey your habitat masters with fear and trembling, with a sincere heart, as you would obey the flight crew.’ Those slaves will either die or harken back to their place. Remember, they only live because we own them. We will remind them with force about the truths we have known since planet-fall. ‘Slaves are to be submissive to their masters in everything, everywhere in the habitat; they are to be well-mannered, not argumentative, not pilfering, but showing all submissive conduct, so that in everything they may obey the rules and regulations set forth upon planet-fall.’ You all know we are the chosen masters, and the slaves were predestined to their fate. Even in this crisis, the natural order of master and slave will be the stabilizing foundation. Goddess Araceli will be praised!”
The mob settled down to a low murmur as the familiar and often recited words soothed their spirits. They knew and were convinced that they were called to be the masters of Habitat Alpha. The slaves would learn that lesson again soon enough. The worried slave owners passed out sticks of lek amongst themselves and many took large mouthfuls and chewed fervently.
“Now you may stay here in the safety of City Hall, or you may depart for your homes. If you have red cubies, we will need them to quell this incident. As your parson, I am now going to settle this matter.” Parson Frederich waddled out the front door of the City Hall. None of the mob followed him.
Smoke lingered in the air from the explosion up the street. There was a bitter and noxious odor as well. It took Frederich a moment to realize it was the smell of burned human flesh mixed in with the smoke. There were still many people yelling in the distance and their voices were panicked. He walked up the street, slowly, taking in the carnage around him. As he got closer to the blasted Slave Training Center, he pulled his sleeve down and tore it off his shirt. He held it in his hand and covered his mouth and nose to filter the smell.
“Medical emergency! All automacubes report to my location!” He yelled in his best command voice. He repeated his call three times, coughing in-between due to the foul air.
None of the six-wheeled machines rolled up to help him, nor did they help the mass of bodies lying around the scorched sidewalk. Parson Frederich had no idea how long he stood there waiting. He just looked at the dead and heard the moaning of the wounded. A limited number of ambulatory survivors were trying to help the others, but most were in too much shock to act. The few that were able to speak just kept mumbling and calling out. “White cubie come here!” Or “Where are the slaves? I need to be carried to the infirmary.” Or “Why has the divine Araceli forgotten us?”
The last call was hardest of all for Frederich. For one of the few times in his life, he wondered if Goddess Araceli had abandoned them, or if this was some divine retribution. Had they been too lenient with the slaves and so now the Goddess Araceli was pouring her wrath upon them? He too wondered where the divine had gone since no automacubes came to help.
Time passed slowly as Parson Frederich observed, but did not directly intervene. He knew nothing about first-aid, or medical treatments. He was nauseated by the sight of broken bodies, bloody pools, and charred flesh. For a while he bellowed out more commands, “We have injured people here! We need assistance!” But no one came. The moans and groans of the wounded grew fainter as they slipped into unconsciousness or died.
Patrolman Bernice came trotting down the street and stepped over several dead bodies. When she saw the parson she called out, “Parson Frederich! The red cubies are deployed. We have fourteen in operation from the Wolf City area. There are only three of us patrolmen that I can find.” She choked up a bit and swallowed hard. “Many died in this bomb blast.”
“Where are you holding the returned slaves?” Frederich asked.
“Some slaves are still with their masters, but very few. Some never were freed by the renegade blue cubies, but I hear those slaves are even fighting back. Two masters have been killed by slaves still in chains. Those were put down on sight, but…” she hesitated, but then continued, “Parson, none of the runaway slaves has surrendered, even when offered the chance. I had the red cubies use stun weapons at first, but even then, when the slaves recovered they were combative and obstreperous. I had to have them put down as well. Without the blue cubies, I do not have the resources to reconnect the permalloy chains. Only the reds respond to commands. So that left only one option, uppity slaves are being terminated.”
“How many?” Frederich asked in loathing.
“How many what?” Patrolman Bernice asked. “Dead masters? Probably at least a dozen I have seen personally. Put down slaves? A multitude. The red cubies are taking care of that now. I fear some slaves escaped out into the wild areas of the habitat, or maybe jumped into the Loop River to float away. The plantations will be ruined, especially if the renegade blues have freed those slaves as well.”
A red automacube rolled up from a side street. Its wheels were covered in grime and its weapon’s muzzle was still smoldering a bit from being fired. Bernice sprinted over to it. “This one is out of munitions. I will take it back and get it reloaded.”
“Is that done at your Police location?” Frederich asked. He had never considered where the red cubies would get ammunition supplies.
“Yes, right at the back of City Hall.”
“You said you saw some people in spaceman costumes. Those must be the unholy agitators. To get rid of agitators, we need to find those agitators. You said they crossed Bridge Zero. You and I will go after them,” Parson Frederich declared. “You get the red cubie all refilled, and we will meet at the bridge. We must nip this before even worse things happen.”
Patrolman Bernice looked at the parson with puzzlement. She could not image much worse than she had seen, but she replied, “Yes, Par
son Frederich, I will meet you there.” She reached into her pocket to draw out a stick of lek, but Frederich motioned with his hand. She left it in her pocket.
“I need you. You are an essential part of this mission. The divine Goddess Araceli has appointed you to be an agent of judgment on the wrongdoers. Goddess Araceli knows what is wrong, you should not be afraid, for Araceli does not select in vain! Yes, you are the servant of Goddess Araceli to execute judgment on these wrongdoers. Meet me at the bridge, and we will send this red cubie to do the divine’s bidding.”
Bernice’s eyes grew large as she listened. “Thank you Parson Frederich. I am honored.”
18 Fleeing habitat alpha
SB Sherman’s voice pierced the Reproduction and Fabrication center. “The humans are killing each other!”
“What?” Jerome asked.
“Multiple acts of civil unrest are happening. Displaying visual images from aperture above the egress door for Bridge 5, bow exit from the town of Aston. This took place just moments ago.”
The display screen opened and showed a bridge very similar to the ones Jerome and Cammarry had already crossed. On the far side of it was a cluster of buildings which were only slightly different looking from the ones in Wolf City. Trees, shrubs, and flowers were in abundance.
People were streaming across the bridge right toward the sealed door. They were moving in halting ways, looking back over their shoulders, their faces etched with terror. They were dressed in a variety of colors of clothing: blacks, blues, browns, and khakis. They all, men and women, had short trimmed hair. Behind them were other people who were wearing orange slave suits and had long disheveled hair.
“Death to slave masters! Death to the oppressors! Death to the planet-born!” The slaves were chanting as they approached. In their hands they had various tools like shovels, hoes, hammers, and such. Two of the slaves were swinging chains about their heads as they followed the crowd.
A woman with grey curly hair was first to reach the door. Next to it was a sign that was illuminated with the words, ‘Do not let animals escape the habitat.’ She pressed the nine section color control pad with quick and accurate jabs of her hand. “We will just lock ourselves in over here until the Police get this under control!” She called to the crowd as she entered the code to open the door. “We will be safe inside the walls.”
There was a negative function sound.
“This is Parson Opal! Let us in! Emergency override!”
The negative function sound came again.
The habitat people began to beat upon the door as the slaves grew closer.
The slowest person in the crowd was overtaken by the first of the slaves. He was an elderly man walking with a limp. He turned and held out the flat of his palm. “Halt!” he yelled at the slave, “You go back to your place! You are a bad bad slave!”
The slave, who was thin and scraggily, batted the old man’s hand away, and then kicked his weak leg. The man cried out in agony as he fell to the planks of the bridge.
“Stop the violence!” SB Sherman’s voice cried out from multiple speakers around the door. “This door is sealed, but violence will not be tolerated. Security has been notified.”
The slaves slowed their procession and looked warily around.
Parson Opal straightened herself up and brushed back her well fashioned hair. Taking a bite of lek, she chewed it while she walked through the crowd of frightened people to face the slaves.
She spread out her flowing coat and flung her arms wide. She called out to the slaves. “I am Parson Opal, servant of Goddess Araceli! Hear me now! The Oracles of Araceli say these are the ordinances which you shall set before them. When you awaken a slave, male or female, that slave shall serve the planet-born for life. For the slave owes the planet-born life from re-animation. The slave’s master shall bore the leg of the slave through with permalloy bonds, and the slave shall serve the planet-born for life. If the slave knows his or her place, and says, 'I love my master’ and serves faithfully, the Goddess Araceli shall reward that slave with everlasting peace and tranquility in the hereafter. But if that slave rebels and….”
The two slaves who were holding chains, which had been severed from their own legs, swung them round about and approached Parson Opal.
She stood defiantly and called down a curse, “Beware disobedient slaves! Woe to you! Goddess Araceli will condemn you to everlasting bitterness in the world outside the Conestoga! You will suffocate on….”
One slave rushed forward and the spinning chain slammed into Parson Opal’s upraised arm, snapping it in several places. She yelped in pain as the bones were shattered, yet she continued to call out, “Woe to you! Slaves, obey in everything those who are your planet-born masters, not only outwardly, but in singleness of heart, fearing the Goddess Araceli. For Araceli will…”
The other slave flung the chain in a resounding whip across the head and back of Parson Opal. She collapsed to her knees, blood running down her forehead, and out her left ear.
“Goddess Araceli! Why have your forsaken us?” Opal cried as the other slaves reached her. The former slaves cried out in unbridled fury and with cooking implements, gardening tools, and callused hands and feet they tore her to pieces.
The planet-born people screamed out their fears, and a few dove over the edge of the bridge into the water of the Loop River. The free slaves, finished with the dismembered body of Parson Opal, rushed into the crowd. The scene became one of carnage and hand to hand combat, with both slaves and planet-born people falling to the planks of the bridge.
Whistles blew and a red automacube rolled rapidly into view from the town of Aston. Two small pops were heard, and the two slaves who were swinging chains dropped. The red automacube had precisely targeted projectiles into them.
The slaves who were still standing, saw the red automacube wheeling toward them, and they looked to the door which was still sealed shut, and then back to the advancing red automacube. Some rushed the machine trying to get past it and flee into the town. Those were shot dead as they ran.
Other slaves, having seen the planet-born dive into the river, followed that route, but few escaped. The planet-born people were grabbing at the slaves, and the slaves were then fighting back with the tools they carried. Heads were bashed in. Ribs were shattered. Faces were smashed against the planks of the bridge.
Plop! Plop! Plop!
The red automacube fired several canisters from small doors in its side. The canisters landed among the grappling crowd, and gray fog erupted from them. People, planet-born as well as slave, gagged and choked and fell to their knees. The crowd was incapacitated into a mass of people struggling to breathe.
The red automacube rolled around the crowd and with a single shot into each slave, killed all those slaves who remained on the bridge.
The scene on the display screen ended. SB Sherman stated, “I have other recordings of similar events, shall I display them?”
“NO!” Cammarry cried out. “This cannot be happening! No. No. No!”
“Sandie, do something to stop this!” Jerome commanded.
Sandie replied, “The people are not responding rationally or logically. I am reassessing conjectures. I am conferencing with the SBs of the lattice.”
“Countermand the order to the automacubes!” Jerome demanded. “Have them…..”
SB Sherman interrupted, “There has been an explosion at the door on Bridge Zero from Wolf City. That explosion breeched the door and I cannot contain the people or animals of the habitat. My primary function is now compromised. Two security automacubes are now passing through the ruins of that doorway.”
Cammarry turned to Jerome, “That is the door we came through to ride the elevators up to here!
“Jerome and Cammarry, I am profoundly sorry,” Sandie stated quickly. “My conjectures and the assessments offered by the SBs have resulted in a major miscalculation. You are in danger here. The deck plans I have show several possible escape routes, however, I cannot co
njecture a safe place for you to go. The vast corridor system is available, but as a long term solution, it leaves much to be desired. The biological habitat is in chaos, and there are imminent dangers in returning to there.”
“So we are marooned in Reproduction and Fabrication?” Cammarry asked. “Trapped here waiting for the cubie red to make us dead?”
“I can delay the elevators,” SB Sherman stated. “For a short while. However, the security automacubes are using explosives to breech the doors, and did gain access to the elevator log records. They know you came to this location.”
SB Bodowa then interjected, “I am producing items to facilitate your departure. A teleportation sending pad is being fabricated according to the plans found on the data stick Sandie connected into my system. Fabrication will be completed in seven minutes.”
“Yes!” Cammarry cried out. “We can teleport away from here and land on the receiving pad we made back on the needle ship. Sandie can you operate it on that end?”
The Colony Ship Conestoga : The Complete Series: All Eight Books Page 50