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

by John Thornton

  “Thank you,” Eris said. “SB Pinaka? Can you connect to the AI Sandie?”

  “Working,” SB Pinaka answered. “I detect that the AI Sandie had received my summons and request for a reply, but there is no response. I am rerouting this to the entire lattice.”

  “Thank you,” Eris answered.

  A moment later, SB Pinaka stated, “The lattice of compeers has failed to make a coupling or link to the AI Sandie. No discernable reason for the failure. The lattice has no recommendation on a way to alleviate this situation.”

  “SB Pinaka? What is the status of the FTL scout?” Eris silently prayed. She knew Sandie was invaluable, yet the last conversation had been deeply troubling. Sandie was not immortal nor indestructible.

  “There has been no change in status to the FTL scout of the locations around it,” SB Pinaka answered.

  “Sandie needs to join us,” Shadow stated. “It is the only way. You know what you must do.”

  Looking around to make sure no one else was within hearing, Eris then closed her eyes. Gritting her teeth, she took some deep breaths and allowed herself to slip into the shadowlands.

  The mist and fog were especially thick.

  AI Ogma’s phantasm stood out and it spoke quickly, “Captain Eris, the People have decided to assist you, especially after what was done in Zeta.”

  “Something new? What was done in Zeta?” Eris asked. “What do you mean now?”

  A whimsical voice came from the shrouded fogs, “A massive slaughter was stopped. Prevented.”

  “Who are you?” Eris asked. The pain was returning quickly. Before she could get an answer, another system spoke out.

  “They are searching for supplemental occupants in a death-like stillness, which is not death, pardon me. Translation difficulty. They are seeking to recover people still in functional suspended animation cocoons,” An AI stated.

  “I know you,” Eris interjected. Her head was throbbing. “You are AI Batibat in that repository under Aston. What do you mean? Who is doing that?”

  A barrage of words, images, and ideas assaulted Eris’ mind. The images were jumbled, disconnected from context, and strange. Crocks in their work clothes, digging, hauling rock, building structures, moving massive things. Floaters hovering over permalloy doors, quad rail systems, brilliant and eye-hurting red sunlight. A purplish-blue bell-shaped thing with tentacles which whipped about. Star charts. Animals running wildly, and waves of some kind of orange fluid pouring over and over against bubbles. A small device, which looked somewhat like the data sticks Jerome and Cammarry sought to repair snapped into focus. This one was blinking with functional lights, and was resting in an odd-looking spot. The phrase, ‘A Level Processor’ blinked in Eris’ perceptions. Something which was about the size of a data stick whizzed by. Messages. Data sticks can be evolved into AIs. Sounds echoing off objects, and screeching to highs, and plummeting to depths, low rumbles, all mixed with smells too numerous to differentiate.

  Eris gripped her head and cried out, “Halt! One at a time!”

  “They might listen,” Bigelow’s apparition stated. “But I doubt it. Something has them really riled up.” He lifted a bottle and quaffed a large measure. Then wiping his lips, he went on. “I have never seen them so agitated, mobilized, and this place is getting crowded.”

  “That one has never been much for cooperation, but he is not yet useless,” Shadow stated and Bigelow’s image flickered and faded out. “Not like the corrupted ones. But you need more of a moderator than just me. You need something fast.”

  “Project Ascension can work, with the Zalian’s, the people’s, assistance,” AI Ogma stated. Its voice was able to pierce the maelstrom of all the other stimulations. “All because of what happened in Zeta.”

  “I am not sure what did happen!” Eris felt her knees bending as she slunk to the deck. “I just do not know!”

  “Incorporate Sandie into the Shadow Level Clearance,” Captain Lechner stated. “You need a buffer and advocate. I wish I had had one. Shadow is only able to liaise, not administrate. It knows where components are located. Make Sandie your ally, your activist, your asset.” His ghostly image receded into the haze as he mumbled something about his sidearm being missing. The last she heard was his soft crying.

  Eris snapped open her eyes. She was not kneeling in the fog, nor was there a cacophony of noises and voices pushing to get ideas into her brain. She let out her breath and rubbed her face with her hands. The pain in her temples was slowing, fading, receding. “Shadow, where is the closest implant?”

  “For the Shadow Level Clearance initiation,” Shadow answered. “It is two decks over, behind the ESRC in the alternate cryptozoological laboratory. I will have it ready for your use.”

  Eris marched to that location. It was a bit off the pathway from which she had had the automacubes remove the growth medium and fungi. As she walked she contemplated how to use the Shadow implant. She knew they worked inside a human body, but Sandie was not human, and she did not know the Dome 17 technology very well at all. Yet, in her engineering mind, she was anticipating the challenges that might present. The doorways opened to her as she approached. It was not far from where she had been so often, but up until now it was a section of the needle ship she had not visited. The walls were dripping with water, the air was foul, and the mushrooms grew up in abundance from all the growth medium which had been spread over the horizontal surfaces. Insects were more plentiful that typical.

  Several times, rats dashed away as a door which had not been opened for a long while, slid into its pocket to allow her to pass. The rats disappeared underneath the foliage, or the disarrayed equipment, tables, chairs, or shelves which littered the corridors.

  “Sandie? Please answer,” Eris implored as she reached the door marked, ‘Alternate Cryptozoological Laboratory’. That door had a nine-section color control pad on it. The control pad cycled while Eris waited for an answer from Sandie.

  No answer came, and so Eris entered the dimly lit room. Being an engineer, Eris was not as intimately familiar with the biological aspects of the Conestoga. She knew there were storage areas keeping genetic materials for all kinds of animals, but those places were usually in the shells of the habitats. Eris also knew that cryptozoology had only come into recognition as a legitimate academic endeavor about twenty years prior to her birth, when the remnant population of gigantopithecus had been proven by researchers. “Almost forty years ago! Oops!” Eris laughed as she recalled how many years had actually passed while she was in suspended animation. “That was before the Great Event, and all the cataclysms. So, Sandie, answer a question. Is cryptozoology still considered a bastard step-child of zoology and folkloristics in Dome 17?”

  There was no answer. Eris had hoped a low-stress historical question might elicit a response. She also remembered that cryptozoology had contributed greatly to stocking the colony ships prior to launch, as finding living specimens of enough animals on the post-cataclysmic Earth had been difficult. Cryptozoology genetic banks had helped by providing cloned specimens.

  She then stepped into the Alternate Cryptozoological Laboratory. There were rows and rows of small doors on the walls. The growth medium had sprayed in here as well, but it apparently had not established itself. Perhaps because the air duct on the wall was not open. Its grille was sealed shut. So no water had ever found its way inside that room. The growth medium and fungal spores were just a dusty layer, about five centimeters thick on the floor. There were no other footprints in that dust, and the dust made Eris think of the stories Cammarry and Jerome had told of the dead Earth around Dome 17. She walked to the nearest wall and examined one of the many small doors. It was marked, ‘Microorganisms’ another was marked ‘Aquatic small species’ and another ‘Aswang and associates’ and ‘Emela-ntouka’ along with many others. There did not seem to be an order or method of the cataloging.

  Eris pulled open one of the small doors, and out slid a tiny suspended animation container. It was similar s
ize to the food boxes which were in the ESRCs but it had symbols on it warning it contained genetic materials.

  “Oh, now I understand. These are the best evidences for these mythological creatures,” Eris said out-loud. She shivered a bit as she considered some of the images she had seen in her last visit into the shadowlands. “I wonder what the cryptozoology team would think of seeing the Crocks or Floaters?”

  She pushed the drawer in and shut the door. The ESRC was in the corner. Eris stepped up to that. It was a bit dusty, but sealed.

  “Shadow? This place will not try to implant one in me again will it?” Eris asked as she prepared to open the ESRC.

  “There is no need for that,” Shadow replied. “The implant is ready for you to take with you.”

  Eris swung the door open, and the inside of the ESRC looked familiar. There was the shelf of food boxes, fire suppression equipment, first-aid supplies, and the tools in their holders. Eris touched the emergency medical appendage and it gently folded outward. At its tip was a clear box. The box was glowing a greenish color. Held at the center of the box was the tiny implant. The box’s sides magnified the view so it was more readily observable. It consisted of a small device, black, purple, and blue in color with a shimmery coil wrapped around the center. Small parts of the coil were red in color. On the side, in miniscule lettering was ‘#114’ but that was only visible because of the magnification of the box which contained the implant.

  Eris reached out and took the box off the medical arm, and the arm folded up into place. “So this is what it looks like. I pray this works.” She placed the clear container, which was still glowing, into her vest pocket. She considered the tools she was carrying in her engineering suit, and decided she did not need anything further from the ESRC. She already carried more and better precision tools than the ESRC offered. She sealed the door shut.

  Eris departed from the Alternate Cryptozoological Laboratory and made her way toward the Goat Room, and where the FTL scout ship was anchored to the hull of the Conestoga.

  Meanwhile, down on the surface of Zalia, inside Alpha, several medical automacubes were alerted. They received a signal to proceed with due haste to a lavatory near to both Swanson 6101 and room 6009. It was SB Sherman who had sent the signal. Because of an order sent out by the lattice of compeers, SB Sherman had been monitoring and looking for the two men who called themselves the Ferryman. An aperture camera had run facial recognition on two people as they passed by. The lavatory door was still functional, and as they had opened it, the camera was activated. SB Sherman connected to SB Yomaris, SB Joseph Crater, SB Vamzdis and then to the reconnected and repaired SB Bodowa.

  SB Sherman conveyed, “Three suspects, two of which have Beta Habitat identifications, have been spotted. These two are wanted by the lattice of compeers, and have been located.”

  The synthetic brains then reported that finding to AI Seljak.

  Fyodor, and Bozidor filled their water containers at the sinks of the lavatory. There were fourteen sinks, and fourteen stalls where toilets were located. A common shower room was off to the side.

  “Now Parson Frederich, I keep telling you we must find some way into that nature area. There is no way to run a scam without people to prey upon,” Bozidor said.

  “Oh, that is a rich one! Prey or pray?” Fyodor laughed a cruel and heartless teasing. “Come on Parson Frederich, pray for us sinners who are so lost. Your goddess Araceli love to help us out, right?”

  “Oh, brother, he is still stung because of losing all those lek deals, right reverend? Or is it priest? Pastor? Right-honorable vicar?” Bozidor chuckled. “Lek leader?”

  “That other fellow, that William, and his Bernice, they seem to have hit it off,” Fyodor said as he filled another container. “No more lek, so no more parson power, right?”

  His brother laughed at his wit and especially at the red face Parson Frederich was showing. The anger rose all the way up and over his nearly bald head. His full face was flushed. He pointed a ring-encircled finger at the nearest brother. “Mock Goddess Araceli all you want you miserable heathen. You will reap your just reward, or deserts!”

  “Desserts or deserts? Pray or prey? Oh yes, the petty parson is now whining about missing desserts! How rich!” Fyodor laughed. “We nearly lived in a dessert, you old gasbag, so just mind your manners around us or we will leave you behind. Abandoned to pray, prey, or play in your dessert or desert or deserved dilemma. Gag on it gospel gasbag.”

  “Gasbag? I will tell you,” Parson Frederich sputtered. “I was the one who got this infernal device to working.” He held up the blinking data stick which was resting in its reader. “I am the one who decoded its methodology for relaying information. Where would you be without me?”

  “He does have a point, Fyo,” Bozidor said. “We were able to make this fine gun from its plan.”

  “But parson pettifogger here never will let us forget about it. Sure we were able to knock out a cubie or two, but what good does it do us? Nothing I tell you. Nothing. It is as good as one of the crazy clerics sermons.”

  “Parson pettifogger, that is rich!” Bozidor chided and pushed Parson Frederich on the shoulder. He stumbled and fell against the wall.

  “Stop hitting me!” Frederich lamented. “Cursed be your mocking. Goddess Araceli, come and help me! Dispense on them your fierceness; and wrath, for they are cruel. Will you divide them? Your blessed hand shall be on their necks, the necks of your enemies. Bring out a lion's whelp: from the prey, oh Goddess, you have gone up, to come smashing down.

  The scepter shall not depart from these infidels, nor a lawgiver from between their feet, until Araceli comes; and unto her shall the gathering of the people be. Binding the foal unto the vines, and the colt unto the choice vines. Goddess Araceli wash my garments in purest water, and my clothes in the blood of your enemies. Let their eyes burst red with soured wine, and their teeth rot like the ravishes of lek! Oh come…”

  “Oh shut up, and let me relive myself, you sniveling old braggart!” Fyodor said as he entered a stall and sat down on the toilet. “Or I shalt you thine mouth as my receptacle for wastes.”

  “I will give your goddess an offering on that throne right there,” Bozidor said as he too went into a different stall and sat to use the toilet.

  “I have had enough of your abuses!” Parson Frederich said. He stood up as tall as he could, and straightened his shoulders. He ran his hand along the rim of his hair and then he stroked his neatly trimmed white mustache. “We part company here. Goodbye to you both!”

  Laughter came from both stalls.

  As Parson Frederich tried to open the door to leave the lavatory, he discovered it was locked.

  “Hey! Let me out of here!” Parson Frederich cried out. He pounded his fat fists on the door.

  “You witless windbag, you quit making so much noise and let me finish,” One of the brothers called out. “Or I will give you a beating by baptism, or baptism by beating.”

  “He just does not know how to open things the way we do,” Fyodor replied. “Our bloviating bishop must have forgotten to turn the latch, or enter the code we taught him.”

  “Bishop buffoon you mean.” Bozidor laughed as he came out from the stall. He stopped at a sink and was washing his hands. “Hey deacon dookie want to come and anoint me with the rivers of life flowing from mother Araceli?” He shook the water off his hands.

  “I tell you this door is locked,” Parson Frederich insisted. His voice cracked a bit. “You still have that weapon I helped you design, right?”

  “Of course acolyte aardvark, it is one of the only good things you have ever done for us,” Fyodor stated. “You better be getting that data stick thing to give us more information soon. Your ticket on the ferry is running out.”

  “So do not forget, abnormal Araceli admirer, we have the weapon,” Bozidor patted the weapon which was in a holster on his belt. “We also have the smarts!” He tapped the side of his head. “Now, if you were a woman, not just a wimp,
we could work out some other arrangement for payment of your trip by the ferryman, but you need to keep paying your way. Invent us something. No one rides for free.”

  “I know you can threaten me all you want, but the door is still locked,” Parson Frederich insisted. “Someone must be outside. They have tracked us down.”

  “No one tracks down the Ferryman. We have a secret way,” Fyodor said as he walked toward the door. “My brother and I, we know things, even more than that data stick thingy you made work. We are connected.” As he reached the door he tapped on the nine-section color control pad. It just flashed yellow over and over.

  “You see! We are locked in here!” Parson Frederich yelled.

  Fyodor slapped him hard. “You shut your measly mouth, father fathead.”

  Parson Frederich fell back and away, holding his stinging face. Blood flowed down from his split lip. “It still is locked.”