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

by John Thornton

  Spitting out the fragment of aerogel, with its hydrophobic properties, the small one sidled away. The larger of the pair sniffed at the remains, but finding nothing new, moved on, looking, listening, smelling, and sniffing everything. It all seemed just the same as usual: fungi, growth medium, oil, old and nearly used-up insulation, along with the ever present variety of metals. Twisting his head about, he looked up and saw there were some places where water dripped slowly down the wall from overhead vents. Water sometimes helped expose insulation, and was always useful for a drink, but water alone did nothing about incisors and their need to be ground down.

  As they moved out from under the energy conduit, the larger of the two sat on his haunches and looked around. Here the dim light was at its brightest, and he knew danger might lurk in those exposed places as well. He assessed his surroundings with care, but there were no other animal smells. Just dribbles of water, machinery, energy conduits, growth medium, and fungi. All the basic aspects of the world, but none of the treasures.

  Nonetheless, ears, whiskers, nose and eyes were ever alert. Impressed into their instincts were fear, apprehension, concern, and anxiety. Far too many companions had been whisked away suddenly never to be seen again. Neither adventurer would ever drop his guard. Survival mattered. Both were hungry, but that feeling was superseded by the need to gnaw. It was a constant craving, an urgent desire, a pressing need.

  The big one lowered down to all fours and walked around the unknown equipment and machines. Unable to read the labels, he totally ignored the macroactinide capacity chargers, the resistors, the concentrators, the pipes of chemicals, and the oil leaking inertia suppressors. Even the glowing of a control pad on the wall only got a passing notice as a source of somewhat greater light. Most of those exposed apparatus and components were vertical and made from the impenetrable permalloy, so they were ignored. Biting permalloy guaranteed broken, not corrected teeth.

  The smaller one chewed on a mushroom, swallowed, and then move on. His hunger abated for a moment, his thoughts returned to his long yellow teeth. They desperately were in need of a good gnaw to whittle them down, and the fungi was just not adequate for that task. He made a chirrup-peep-click combination expressing displeasure, but his companion ignored him.

  Instead the big one moved his jaws around. He too craved gnawing. Then each began to mimic, in actions, what they coveted. The large one chewed on emptiness, moving his lower jaw back and forth. He shifted his lower jaw forward, bringing both upper and lower incisors into contact with each other and the molars out of contact with each other. Yet, that was unsatisfying. With nothing between the yellow front teeth it was all meaningless. It did no more than biting permalloy would do. Either extreme did not abate the need. They continued to reconnoiter for the right stuff to chew.

  The smaller one sniffed at a small seam in a diagonal section of the wall. He then used the claws on his hand-like front feet to dig and scrape away the thinner layer of growth medium that was stuck on that angular surface. A slight but distinct coppery smell emerged. His work revealed a tiny space between two panels. His larger cohort also sniffed at that spot and then aided in digging and working at the seam. Growth medium was thrown away, fungi were uprooted, and a small flow of water, dribbling down from the wall, was accidentally diverted. That flow of water ran along the seam and helped to wash it clean.

  A gasket was revealed. An intact, un-nibbled, and nearly virgin gasket was laid bare of its decades long burial in growth medium. Pristine and palatable, the discovery was just what the adventurers were seeking to find.

  With growing excitement, the pair worked at their treasure. What their digits could pry up, teeth could pull better. The upper incisors held the edge of the gasket while the lower incisors cut against it. Both took a bite and worked their jaws, especially the yellow teeth pointing out in front. The molars did not touch each other while the gnawing went on.

  POP!

  With twitching muscles and a suddenly invigorated haste, the two fled back under the energy and power conduit. Their hearts beating even more rapidly, eyes as wide open as possible, ears twitching, whiskers trembling; they observed. They expected an attack at any moment.

  None came.

  The gasket had broken, and a segment of it was lying loose. The drips of water running down the wall were now disappearing into where the gasket had been, where the seam and what lay beneath was now open and exposed.

  The pair of adventurers observed in anxious anticipation. Treasure was revealed, but danger was a constant worry.

  The machinery hummed as usual. The dim light shone as usual. The air moved as usual. Nothing appeared different, and so the duo crept out again, glancing, sniffing, listening, ever observant. Perceiving no obvious threat, this time they headed right toward the broken gasket and took to it with relish. Gnawing, chewing, masticating, grinding, pulling, and ripping they pried at the gasket to get more and more of it out. The incisors were getting the workout they needed, and the two were pleased with the results on their reconnaissance. They gnawed merrily away, removing more and more of the gasket as they went about their task.

  Pop!

  A smaller section broke loose, and while the pair did scurry away, it was with less haste and they returned more quickly to their job of devouring the gasket.

  Sizzle! Pop! A smell emerged, acrid, foul, burnt.

  “Emergency Revival System Activated,” a voice came from the rectangular object above where the adventurers were chewing.

  There was just a blur of brownish gray fur as the rats fled.

  “Emergency Revival System Activated,” the voice repeated from the rectangular object, and was echoed across the chamber. The words resounded from various other boxes of identical size and construction.

  Flashing red and yellow lights strobed the chamber. Several displays, which previously looked like blank permalloy walls, lit up with internal illumination. Two of them nearly immediately fizzled and failed and returned to the darkness of opacity. The three others continued to work, flashing images, schematics, diagrams, and warnings.

  “Emergency Revival System Activated,” the voice repeated again and was echoed across the chamber. Fifty-three different rectangular objects, each two meters long and a half-meter wide and high shuddered as power flowed through their cocooning mechanisms. The outlines of the sides lit up on their edges. Most glowed a deep blue for a moment, but then, randomly, the individual parallelepiped box’s colors shifted about, some going completely dark, others glowing red, some flashing green or amber. Only one stayed the deep blue color.

  “Suspended animation protocol interrupted. Medical intervention summoned,” the voice stated in flat, prerecorded mechanical tones. “Emergency Revival System Activated.”

  One of the rectangular and cuboidal cocoons, now glowing red and flashing rapidly along its edges, groaned as a panel at the end of it tried to open. That one end of the boxy parallelepiped shuddered a bit and then dropped open with a loud clang. With a grinding of metal upon metal a roughly two-meter-long bedlike platform slid out. One side of it disconnected from the underlying tracks and fell off, resulting in the platform tipping at an angle. Wires, tubes, and lines, snapped as gasses and vapors rose from around mechanisms of the platform. The body, which had laid for decades on that platform’s molded surface, rolled onto the floor. When it struck the floor, the dried-out body parts scattered about, and the uniform it was wrapped in fell to pieces. The red flashing lights stopped, and a negative function buzzer went off and then faded away.

  “Emergency Revival System Activated.” The automated voice continued to wail.

  Several more of the boxy cocoons began flashed brilliant colors. The red flashing ones all tried to open at the ends, and some of them succeed in doing so. Those whose ends opened had the bedlike platforms slide out, but all the occupants were just dried out, desiccated, cadavers. Some were just piles of clumpy dust which was whisked away by the air currents of the only partially functional ventilation
systems. All of the red flashing lights stopped. Negative function sounds resonated around the repository. Despite the best designs the engineers of the Conestoga had made, these cocoons which had alerted in the red, these suspended animation parallelepipeds, ended up just being advanced, but technologically flawed coffins.

  The flashing yellow cocoons next tried to open as the automated Emergency Revival System cycled through its algorithm. Yellow was recognized as the next level of crisis. Those boxes’ ends opened and the bedlike platforms slid out. These people were not dried out and crusty. They were wet. Noxious vapors escaped. Fouled fluids poured off the platforms, dragging with them bits of liquefied human tissues. Here the gases, chemicals, and mechanical implements no longer had anything solid to attach onto, and so the contrivances of suspended animation just slushed off to the sides as the cocoons emptied out.

  “Emergency Revival System Activated.” The automated voice continued to cry, as another level of cocoons were opened up.

  The amber lit cocoons revealed an interior which had lost thermostatic control. The end caps opened, and the platforms slipped out. Wafts of frosty air emerged along with the lifeless occupants. These people looked intact, covered with a slight twinkling of rime. As their newly revealed, frosty bodies began to interact with the warm 27 degrees of the repository, the long dead but cryogenically stiffened cadavers began to melt. It would take many days for them to thaw, but none of those colonists would ever awaken from their journey in suspended animation. Compared to some of their neighbors, they were the lucky ones.

  “Emergency Revival System Activated.”

  Most of the cocoons were now dark, as their systems had failed miserably. Dead bodies lay on various platforms, in frozen, dried out, or liquefied states. The smells floating about the chamber were intense and putrid.

  “Emergency Revival System Activated.”

  The tiny, four-footed adventurers watched, sniffed, and listened with curiosity and fear from beneath the energy conduit. Here was something totally new and unexpected. Too frightened to venture forth, too inquisitive to flee, the rats continued to observe from their covert vantage point.

  “Emergency Revival System Activated.”

  Out of the fifty cocoons which comprised the repository, only six now remained active. Five began flashing with a green light. The light probed down through the clear permalloy of the top covers on the cocoons. The colonist inside these suspended animation boxes were still connected to all the monitors, gas lines, fluid supplies, and mechanisms which had supported them in their deep hibernation for those last decades. The process was working, and they were alive.

  As the automated Emergency Revival System shifted thoughtlessly through its scheduled processes, signals were sent for the end caps to open, and the platform bed to be extracted from the cocoon. Those signals flowed through the right channels, and made connections to the correct places. The hermetically sealed locks were triggered, but the end caps failed to open. Being that there was no functional feedback loop on the Emergency Revival System’s algorithm, and no intelligence to counteract preprogrammed sequences, the next stage took place.

  The colonists inside the green flashing cocoons were revitalized, rejuvenated, and resuscitated. This should have taken place on the extended platform beds, but did not. The ends of the parallelepipeds were unlatched, unlocked, and should have opened, but the growth medium which covered the horizontal surfaces of so much on the needle ship jammed and prevents those end caps from releasing their occupants. The people became prisoners inside a suspended animation cage.

  As their eyes opened, those five people realized a major malfunction had happened. The light shining down through the growth medium on the clear permalloy top cast a blinking green eeriness to the tiny compartments. Pupils dilated and then suddenly constricted in terror. Lungs attempted to breathe in air that was not present. Mouths gaped in screams unable to be uttered. Fingers pushed emergency ejection buttons, and call lights, and crisis alarms. Some of those tertiary systems operated as designed, and warning signals were sent, but there was no one to hear. No artificial intelligence overseer to alter protocol. No synthetic brain to respond to the desperate cries. No alternative crisis managers to intervene and free them from their no longer suspended animation trap. The few minutes of conscious awareness of being entombed caused extreme stress on newly invigorated cardiovascular systems, as well as neurological networks which had been trained for a gentle and peaceful awakening. Panic set in. Hands were lifted only to strike at unbreakable permalloy. Feet and legs were kicking about, but the end caps remained jammed shut. The muffled sounds of those few moments of thrashing about were only heard by the rats, who had no way to assist, and no understanding of the terror taking place inside those cocoons. Death came in an isolated horror of flashing green light, empty lungs, and bloodied fingers pressing meaningless buttons.

  “Emergency Revival System Activated.”

  Finally, only a single cocoon remained empowered. The one whose light system glowed deep blue. On the end of that cocoon, dribbled over by growth medium and some water, was the name, ‘Lorelei Eris Concordia: Junior Grade Engineer’ in black lettering on the permalloy end cap.

  As the unthinking algorithm cycled through its pre-calculated patterns it made it to the least needy cocoon. All the others had been activated, or failed to activate. That last one, that suspended animation cocoon which was still operating within its designed safety parameters, as addressed.

  It worked flawlessly. The deep blue light shone a consistent color across all boards. The end caps dropped open, with only minimal resistance. The platform bed slid out and then locked into a different track. It sprouted legs which unfolded beneath it to give it stable support. The wires, tubes, conduits, and gas cylinders which connected into the former occupant all were patent and followed the prearranged awakening sequence perfectly. Revival began tenderly, slowly, and safely.

  Eris drifted up in her mind from a deep and dream-free slumber. It felt somewhat like a combination of waking from a night’s sleep and the coming out of anesthesia which she remembered from several surgeries she had endured in preparation for being a suspended animation colonist on the Colony Ship Conestoga. She flickered her eyes a bit, but then wrinkled her nose. Some bad aromas were pestering her.

  “Burned frozen chicken?” she mumbled as the tubes softly slipped from her nose, throat, and other bodily orifices. She sniffed, then sneezed, then blew her nose hard, and dribbles of snot came out. “Or swamp water?”

  Her uniform, with its multiple sensors built into the thin and seemingly flimsy materials reported to the controls in the cocoon that her vital signs were within normal limits.

  “Emergency Revival System Completed,” the mechanical voice stayed, and the overhead flashing lights ended. The dim light which had been ever-present in needle ship reactivated casting the suspended animation repository into a shadowy and strange milieu.

  Eris’ youthful, unblemished, mocha colored face broke into a wide yawn. She licked her tongue across her even white teeth. Her golden brown eyes opened, then blinked. Everything was fuzzy for a while as she lay comfortably on the platform bed. The warming elements beneath her made it just the right temperature. The final tubes were extracted from her body, and her uniform closed the small access ports which had allowed the equipment to make contact with her seventeen-year-old body. She yawned again. She offered a silent prayer of thanks and yawned again.

  “Artificial Intelligence Van Winkle? Increase illumination in the repository,” Eris said as she slightly rolled to the side. She slowly raised a hand up and stroked her dark brown hair out of her eyes. “Also, I am smelling some foul odors, is that a side effect of awakening? Did someone order a well done meal?”

  There was no response.

  “Artificial Intelligence Van Winkle? Please report.” She weakly rubbed her eyes. “When did we make planet-fall?” Eris said as she moved to sit up. Her nostrils flared as she took some deep breaths. She the
n coughed and sputtered. “That is so disgusting! Analyze that smell.”

  There was still no response.

  Eris shook her head, and pulled her hair back. Rolling her neck from side to side she concentrated on her vision. She was confused as she looked around. “Hello? I am number thirty-seven in the queue. Who is there? Artificial Intelligence Van Winkle report!”

  She fully expected the reawakening procedures to take place. After all, she had practiced innumerable times, and so she waited for the medical automacube to run the routine diagnostics and implement on her the reanimated code of behavior. She yawned again, and blinked her eyes. It felt like a long wait, but she recalled her instructor’s comments, ‘Disorientation and slight alterations in perception are common upon reanimation. Do not panic, just wait for your mind, body, and spirit to equilibrate.’ And so Eris yawned again, and waited. She offered another silent prayer, for patience.