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

by John Thornton

  Bigelow shook his head. “Very poetic. Very nice. The troika is ready, and the horses are hitched. I have supplies of food, and proper fluids.” He patted his pants pocket where his bottle was kept. “So are we going or do I make a service run on my own with Agnes, Arabella, and Anika? Keeping them in harness for no reason is a waste, I might as well do something. My mares will not wait forever for you.”

  “Mares? I thought they were horses? Have you a different animal now?” Jerome asked.

  “Rube, a mare is a horse. A female horse. So do we leave now together, or do I and my mares leave you here?”

  “Mare, like in night-mare?”

  “No. Mare like in female horse. So are we going?” Bigelow’s impatience was growing.

  “We are going. The journey of a thousand light years begins with a decision to go. I decide to go now and search for Cammarry. I have had dreams and I have had nightmares, but I used to believe my dreams would conquer my nightmares. That was before I came to the Conestoga.”

  Bigelow put his hand on the taller man’s arm and nodded. “I do understand it is hard. I truly do. More than you know.”

  Jerome looked at him and their eyes met. They gazed at each other.

  “I believe you really do, right Brigadier?”

  Bigelow’s eyes narrowed. He squeezed Jerome’s arm hard enough to cause purple bruises from the pressure exerted by his fingertips. “You will call me Bigelow, understood?”

  Jerome tried to pull away, but Bigelow’s grasp was strong. “You do understand me, right?”

  “Yes. Sorry Bigelow.” Jerome finally was able to move his arm as Bigelow let go. “I should have respected your privacy.”

  “You certainly should have,” Bigelow replied with a few colorful vulgarities added. “However, we do all have our secrets.” He turned and walked away toward the green wagon he called a troika.

  Jerome rubbed his sore arm, and thought of Cammarry and the arm injury she had suffered. He again looked at the circling birds overhead. Then walked after Bigelow. “Carrion? Is that an omen?”

  Bigelow climbed up into the front seat of the troika. One of the horses snorted. Jerome could not remember which of the dappled gray horses it was; Agnes or Arabella. Both horses on the right and left were covered in dapple grey colored short hair with longer silky black colored hair hanging from the top of their necks, and also dangling between their pointed ears. Anika was the one in the middle. She was deep black over her entire body, both the short fur and the longer hair. All three horses were harnessed with shiny leather tack. The collars around their necks, like all the harness, were dark brown with silver studs.

  As Jerome climbed up into the troika, he heard Jenna calling. “Just a moment before you go.” Jenna’s straight, shoulder length, black hair, bounced a bit as she trotted over.

  “Jenna, it looks like today is the day,” Bigelow said and swept his arm around in a goofy mock bow.

  “I see that.” Her expressive eyes twinkled. “I have a present from Siva, Monika, and Peter. Jerome this is for you.”

  She handed him a small rectangular device. It was deep gray colored and had a small display screen on one flat side.

  “Thank you, and not just for this.”

  “I should be thanking you.” She gave Bigelow a conspiratorial wink. “Taking Bigelow away from here for a while will improve our efficiency quite a bit.”

  Bigelow huffed, but his grin remained on his face.

  She glanced over at the river. Her thin, but athletic body was dressed in the same style of clothing that Bigelow wore. “More water than I have seen in years.” Looking back at Jerome she paused for a moment. “Yes, thank you.”

  Jerome looked to Bigelow who just shrugged his shoulders and said, “She is a dowser. I said nothing.”

  “Well…” Jerome began, but was interrupted as Jenna placed a hand on his.

  “You helped many people, but your loss is immense.” She squeezed his hand. “This key finder will allow you to access some of the ship’s systems. It finds codes. In a way it is like how I find water. No communications links or anything like that. The lufi amalgam batteries should last for a few months. Place it by a color control pad and it will attempt to enter a correct color sequence, an unlock code. Siva designed and invented this code breaking device. The engineers tell me it is about forty percent effective when they have used it on the doors in the wall of the habitat. We are not sure how effective it will be inside the corridors, as we have not searched those deeply. Our work is with the carousels.” She dropped her voice a bit. “Items like this are considered contraband by the Unity of Beta officials, so keep it hidden.”

  “Thank you Jenna.” Jerome pocketed the device.

  “Those Unity of Beta fools will never see it. They are too busy in committee meetings, and as for the Kurent he can dance with his bells all he wants. That tool, however, might save us some time. I expect we will be busy as a lizard drinking.” Bigelow picked up the reins.

  “Lizards are drinking all they want now,” Jenna smiled. Then she kissed Jerome on the cheek and hugged him. She whispered in his ear, “Monika asked me to do that, her parting gift.”

  Blushing, Jerome thought about all that. “Pass along my thanks.” He then looked at Jenna. She looked younger than ever. The weight and burden from the drought was gone, which left a visible improvement on her. Jenna was still the competent, strong, and rugged leader, but now looked her proper age.

  “Come on Anika!” Bigelow snapped the reins.

  The troika jerked a bit as the three horses began pulling it along. The wheels left a small indentation in the ground. Looking over the side and back behind the wagon, Jerome also saw that the horses’ hooves were pulling up divots of dirt and grass. Jerome was surprised to see that, as the ground had been far too hard and dry for that to happen before.

  The troika rolled away from the camp, and Bigelow guided it in a direction other than Jerome expected. They were traveling perpendicular to the sky tube.

  “I thought we were going back to Seron to find Cammarry. We must investigate how to reenter terraforming.” Jerome looked about.

  “We are, but we need to get to the road as soon as possible. The ground is getting back to its normal subsoil levels of moisture. My associates and I do not want to try to pull the troika out from a mud hole. Do you?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “So let me drive, let my harnessed associates pull, and you can observe the scenery or just ponder the meaninglessness of life.”

  “Meaninglessness?”

  Bigelow looked back at the camp which was growing smaller in the distance. He took a long drink from his bottle, then lowered his voice a bit as he sang. “Oh, the carousel goes around. Don’t let me see you frown. Come ride a streak though the future’s bleak. But the carousel goes round and round.” He nodded his head after he crooned those lines.

  “That was part of a song you sang, back at the carousel where we first met.”

  “The rube has a memory too!”

  “But you did not sing it joyfully this time, more like a poem, or dirge. Is that what you meant about meaninglessness?” Jerome asked.

  “Well, we need to be realistic. What do you think all this water restored to the habitat will mean?”

  “More water means life is better, right?”

  Bigelow tipped his chin down and peered at him with a bit of a squint. “Really?”

  “In Dome 17 more water was essential. There water was cherished, it was precious, protected. So yes, more water means a better life. Plants, animals, and the biome needed more water.”

  “Your words are like water to a drowning man,” Bigelow sadly replied. “Water to a drowning man.”

  Jerome squished up his face, then rubbed it with his hands. “You are confusing me. Back in Dome 17, I would never have expected to see as much water as I have here. We recycled, recirculated, and refined the water just to make enough food, and have water rations for everyone. Why, even in what you cal
led a drought, there was more water wasted here than we had for use in Dome 17. Now you are worried about mud. We in Dome 17 were worried about proper reclamation and water harvesting. We appreciated the water, and its essential role in life. All the water seems to me to be a good thing.”

  “All that fancy dome technology, and yet Beta is still here. Well rube, you say that dome of yours was so careful with water, and yet it failed. Too dry is just the opposite of too wet. Yes, why did you two both came here? Because your advanced technology was unable to sustain you. Your technological marvels did not save your people, and so you needed to come here?”

  Jerome fumed. “Our situation was far worse than what you are facing here.”

  Bigelow gave him a mirthless smile. “You have no idea what we are facing here. Yes, you brought the water back into the habitat, and that is a good thing, up to a point. But I shut it down for a reason. An important reason, because I knew what was happening. Have you considered that Project Angel Food will now have all the resources to keep forging ahead?” He took a big and long drink from his bottle.

  “Cammarry is lost, and you said you would help me. That is what matters,” Jerome barked back. “I saw those systems destroyed. Those artificial intelligences were destroyed and that whole place was ruined.”

  “So you claim, but synthetic brains, have a way of not staying dead. I thought shutting down the water supply would starve them so they would quit, but Project Angel Food kept right on going.” Bigelow wiped his lips. “Even with all the things that I tried, in the end it was meaninglessness.”

  “So why help me now?”

  “Because I promised I would. I need to know if Project Angel Food is still running. If it is, it must be stopped. The SBs Premenit, Cevirmek, Athru and Forvandle will keep going. They are relentless.” He eyed Jerome. “If they are flush with water now, they will resume their agenda.”

  Jerome met his gaze, and stated, “I saw their central memory cores get destroyed. They will not function again.”

  “What did you really see?” Bigelow sneered. “Sure, you saw something, I grant you that. Some memory cores may have been damaged. Which ones? How badly? Yes, I believe you saw something. But what outcomes did that have? Is Project Angel Food actually shut down? You said you were never able to get back inside terraforming, so do you know?”

  “I know Cammarry is lost and alone. That is all that matters to me.” Jerome turned away and watched the plants, birds, and various animals of the biome as they rode along. He thought, ‘Everything enjoys the return of the water, all except Bigelow.’ Jerome fumed with anger, but was unsure how to deal with it, or on what to direct his rage. ‘I must find Cammarry, no matter what.’ He concentrated on that thought.

  As they reached the road, a light rain began. The clouds overhead partially obscured the sky tube, but it was still a streak of brightness behind them. The road ran parallel to the sky tube, and the horses eagerly stepped up onto the paved surface.

  “It should only rain once every ten days,” Bigelow snorted. “Lately it has rained much more frequently, but in shorter periods. I suppose the biome is trying to make up for the drought.”

  Jerome replied “Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.”

  “Now who is being poetic?”

  “Well, yes. This rain is just so new to me. I have read about it many times, but experiencing it is totally different than reading about it.” Jerome raised his face upward, and the mist and light rain wetted his hair as well. Rubbing his hands through it, he rejoiced in the moisture. “Oh Cammarry, I hope you have abundant water wherever you are.”

  The road was damp, but not slippery. They tossed their heads, but were in no distress about getting damp. They did give off a smell, which Jerome was unsure about. The horses trotted along at a steady pace, and soon the rain stopped.

  “Shorter rain showers, but more often. It cannot be good. Must be a hydrological adjustment,” Bigelow commented quietly. “Biology needs consistency.”

  “How was it before?”

  “When I was growing up the rain came every ten days, and lasted for a whole day. That was normal and expected. Everyone knew it, and it was natural. It was how everything had been for a long time. Beta functioned well enough then.”

  “But who regulated it?”

  Bigelow looked straight ahead. “Who regulates the sky tube? Who regulates the rate of grass growing? Or of animal movements? Who has altered the birth rates?”

  “Are you being poetic? Or rhetorical? Or just more sarcasm?” Jerome chided. “In Dome 17 everything was regulated. All air, water, waste, food, everything was regulated. The Committee oversaw the regulations, and the dome’s systems, with the artificial intelligences made sure it all operated smoothly and efficiently.”

  “Yet, you tell me your dome was the last one to survive, and all the others failed. You said that was why you and Cammarry came here in the first place, right? You needed to escape from a dying world.” Bigelow snapped the reins a bit to keep the horses moving. It was unnecessary, as the horses knew the road as well or better than he did. “But let me answer your question as best I can. Who regulates the rain cycles? Well, honestly, I do not know. I was an apprentice to terraforming, and I knew that system really well. Habitat Oversight, Weather Control, and Animal Husbandry were different departments. I assume synthetic brains and a human crew work together somewhere to manage those, but I just do not know.”

  “So you only knew about Terraforming and Restoration?” Jerome asked. He eyed Bigelow, who avoided direct eye contact.

  “Yes, and that was fifteen years ago. The departments in the corridors, or the shell as some call it, were all divided up by task. One could only apprentice to a certain area. I thought I was lucky to get Terraforming, but it was a curse instead of a blessing.”

  “A curse you chose yourself. A curse with plenty of water, food, and resources,” Jerome mocked. “So in Beta there is no overarching governing body? In Dome 17 the Committee managed everything. Two elected, one selected, and people respected their decisions, at least for the most part….” His voice drifted off. Jerome thought back to Jubal’s actions and the loss of his personal AI Faraday.

  “Hey rube, you got that faraway look again.” Bigelow smiled ruefully. “Officially the Unity of Beta manages the habitat. I said officially, and the Kurent is our fearless leader, but even fifteen years ago, all they did was have meeting. Back when I first apprenticed, it may have been different, but not much. Ever since planet-fall the departments were fairly well insulated from each other, residue of the insurrection.” Bigelow spit as he said insurrection.

  “So tell me more about that….” Jerome began.

  “Well will you look at that!” Bigelow nodded his head off to the distance.

  Jerome looked and saw an animal frantically leaping and running. It was moving fast on its four legs, all of which looked rather thin. He estimated it was about human height, but it was tough to judge as it was moving. It was a dark brownish color, with slate grey overtones. A faint vertical stripe was visible as it leaped over some small brush. A lighter colored ridge of fur was along its back The head carried two spiraling horns which were a bit darker in color than its body. The horns had a deep bluish tint and were roughly as long as its head and pointed back toward its rump.

  “What is that?” Jerome asked.

  “A nyala, running for its life.”

  The animal veered to the side, and then leaped again. It approached the roadway, taking zigging and zagging maneuvers as it ran. Dodging and weaving, the animal was nimble, and fleet.

  “Nyala? I thought the nyala were smaller. A reddish, rusty brown color with yellowish vertical stripes. We saw some before, but I do not recall horns.”

  “Those were females, rube. That one is a buck. A male. Look at him run!”

  The horses snorted and stomped their feet as Bigelow pulled the reins and brought the troika to a halt.
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  “Yes, sir. A predator, likely a big cat is after it. I know that is right.”

  “Big cat?” Jerome looked around and especially watched where the nyala had emerged from some squatty trees. “I do not see some predator.”

  The nyala swerved again around several bushes, and then leaped over a fallen tree trunk. It suddenly crashed to the ground. It rolled just a bit, kicking its legs about, but was unable to get up. It worked to hold its head up, and a longer growth of hair, a mane was seen. The mane went from the animal’s chin, down the throat to the chest and stomach, which was flat to the ground. That mane was coated in mud as the animal struggled to rise. Its legs could now be seen more clearly, and the lower half of them was a golden yellow-brown. One of the legs was obviously broken, as it grotesquely flopped from side to side.