Unexpectedly, the unit once again found itself being transported and was deprived of the new power source. Fortunately, the emergency cell was fully charged, and the unit cut itself back to minimum power consumption to stretch this limited resource.
The damaged cell again nearly depleted, the unit was finally able to detect an energy flow it could tap. This time the source was beside the unit instead of underneath, so it adapted itself to the new circumstances. Hungrily, it absorbed all it could and recharged its emergency cell once again. The unit also set itself to understanding the inconsistent availability of power, but could not come to any reasonable explanation.
All its experiences since awakening were beyond anything the unit had previously recorded. Again, following the dictates of its self-preservation program, the unit reconfigured itself to be able to absorb power inductively from whatever direction it found available. It also set up automatic sub-routines to convert whatever power was available into usable form, and to be able to do this for however brief its contact with the power lasted, testing these programs repeatedly by the continued changes the unit faced during various transports. Twice it nearly exhausted its internal cell, but was able to tap minimal power from multiple sources each time.
After one long transport, which included some lengthy storage time, the unit found itself in yet another laboratory, but this time with conditions closer to its original home installation. Power was also available inductively through power conduits buried in the floor. While adapting to these, the unit also discovered other cables beneath it that carried coded signaling unlike anything it had examined before. The unit was fascinated with this new development and started, with the patience only a machine can possess, the process of unraveling the mystery of the coded signals.
∞∞∞
The supervisor from the observation office sat nervously at the center of the U-shaped table. All around him were the most powerful people in Galactic Axia, second only to the empress herself. He shifted nervously in his chair while they read copies of the report.
Unexpected developments on closed planets were a high priority with the Axia. Safety was the first concern since the Axia considered itself responsible for the safety of closed planets under their care. It occasionally happened that new breakthroughs came from these odd places, but more often than not, they were like a two-year-old child playing with a flame thrower.
“So they’ve taken a technological leap beyond their years,” one of the gray-headed councilors said. “It’s not the first time that has happened.”
“True,” agreed a second man whose bald head glistened brightly in the room’s light. “But it is most unusual.”
“Tell me,” said a third, addressing the supervisor. “Going beyond this report, do you think they developed this technology on their own, or because of Red-tail influence?”
“We strongly suspect Red-tail influence,” the supervisor answered. “But we don’t think it’s because of active participation or direction from the Red-tails.”
“That’s consistent,” another councilor interjected. “We’ve yet to document a case where the Red-tails did anything with humans other than eat them.”
“Then you think maybe these natives somehow gained access to Red-tail equipment without the Red-tails being involved?” the bald councilor asked the supervisor.
“That’s a stretch, I’ll admit, but it fits the facts we have so far,” he answered honestly. “As to how they came to have access to Red-tail equipment, we are still investigating that, but are hampered by the natives themselves. As you will note in the report, the natives are aware of us watching them from orbit.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” one of the women councilors said. “We don’t want to develop a theory about this situation without enough facts.”
“Well said,” voiced another. “Is it possible to effectively monitor this planet using long-range scans?”
“Not really,” the supervisor answered. “The mothership is stationed almost a light-year from them now. Accuracy diminishes as a consequence.”
“What would you like to do?” the first councilor asked.
“Onsite inspection, of course,” the supervisor answered. “The problem would be getting someone in there and back again without raising suspicions.”
“That might take some time to arrange,” the councilor said. “I suggest that long-range scans continue as best they can. If possible, use other planets to mask recon trips to gather data closer in.”
“Agreed,” voiced the first councilor. The others concurred. “I know we’ve handed you a tough job in a dangerous situation, but do the best you can.”
Back in his office, the supervisor drew up the necessary instructions for the mothership monitoring the closed planet. He sealed them into a packet and used the comm line to call the courier service. In minutes, a trooper-first appeared at his door.
“I need you to deliver some good news and some bad news to the scout captain that brought us that information on the closed planet,” he said, handing a package of papers to the trooper-first.
“I assume he’s staying in the Visiting Pilots Quarters.”
The supervisor nodded. “But before you deliver this package to him, go by 6102 and seal his orders in the safe.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the trooper-first with a smile. “I’m sure he’ll be surprised.”
“After the trooper left, the supervisor sighed to himself. He had an ugly feeling this problem was not going to have an easy solution.
Chapter Seven
“We’re ready over here,” one of the lab technicians called to the woman at the main console of the portable equipment.
“Recorder ready,” another reported from next to his equipment. The research team leader double-checked the notes on her clipboard.
“How’s the integrity of the containment field?” she inquired of two workers at another console across the room.
“Both field layers stable and ready.”
“On your toes, everyone,” she ordered. “Starting the scanning sequence now.” She flipped a simple switch and all of the scanning and sensor equipment came to life according to their preprogrammed instructions.
∞∞∞
Various pulses of energy throughout the spectrum directed at the unit from alien equipment aimed at its exterior caused a silent alarm to active within the bowels of the unit and brought it to full awareness again. The unit responded to ancient programs and immediately shut itself off to appear inoperative. It masked its power cell in a field designed to simulate the electromagnetic radiation in the surrounding environment.
After a number of time cycles, the bombardment ceased. The unit waited twice that interval before activating an exterior sensor. The laboratory was empty of organic life, and the alien equipment was not functioning. A mechanical sense of curiosity caused the unit to take this opportunity to work again on deciphering those signals it had detected earlier. It continued its effort uninterrupted until the organic lifeforms returned. Again, it shut itself down to appear inert. The unit waited patiently for their primitive inspections to end.
∞∞∞
Over an hour had passed since the equipment’s activation. The lead researcher stepped over to see the recorded results from the sensor signals.
“Nothing!” the seated operator said as the researcher stepped up behind him. “We might was well be taking pictures of a rock.”
The researcher went along checking the readouts for herself. Aside from background radiation, the ancient computer was a piece of dead machinery. Disgusted at their lack of success, she returned to her station.
“All right, let’s shut it down,” she announced to the rest of the team at their consoles. “We’ve got all we’ll ever get out of this thing. Let’s get all of this gear packed and call it a night.”
Around her, different systems shut down and workers began to pack away their portable equipment.
“There goes another bright idea down th
e drain,” the leader complained bitterly to another technician as they collected their data records for later analysis.
“It was worth a try,” he answered, folding the printouts into neat squares. “I wouldn’t have been satisfied either if I hadn’t given it one last try.”
“I just wanted to verify all of the reports we have from the field,” the woman replied. “I had hopes we’d find what they could not.”
“You had to be sure they didn’t miss anything,” the man said. “Now we know this thing is just an inert box to be displayed in the museum for the tourists.”
“You’re right about that,” she commented, and turned to look at the inert artifact. “Angle’s kids get it tomorrow to start cleaning it up for display.”
“That’s not what I heard,” the man said as he stood beside her. “I heard Angle’s got some bright ideas about letting his students study it first.”
“He can do whatever he wants to for all I care,” the woman replied as she turned and started packing away the reports for shipment back to the science museum.
∞∞∞
“So, how did it go last night?” Stan asked as Delmar walked over to him in the cafeteria. “You were still at it when I went to sleep.”
Delmar set down his steaming cup of coffee and then stretched until his back cracked. “Not too bad,” he said through a yawn. He picked up his cup and took a tentative sip of coffee. It was strong but Delmar was glad for the restorative effect of the brew. Fortunately, the coffee was in regular percolators instead of the synthesizer, so it tasted halfway decent.
Setting the cup down again, he wearily crossed the room to the food synthesizer and punched in a selection. A few moments later, he opened the dispenser door to remove a covered tray. He returned to the table and just sat there for a minute sipping his coffee.
“Did you understand the diagrams you got from the lab computer?” Stan asked.
“I think so. But it didn’t look like any logic circuit I’ve ever seen before.”
“Me neither,” mumbled Stan.
Delmar rolled his eyes and then removed the cover on his tray. Chalking it up to lack of sleep, he ignored what his eyes reported and picked up his fork. Stan couldn’t help but notice that the synthesizer was up to its old tricks and had been less than successful at producing plausible-looking ham and eggs.
∞∞∞
Over a week had passed since George Citti and Akir Asmed had delivered their priority package to Shalimar. The operations officer at the Observation Department Headquarters had taken one look at their harried condition and released them on leave to rest. At first overjoyed, George let his concern about his ship, the Starduster, override this rare opportunity.
The week dragged slowly by. Making daily trips to the repair hanger the ship was in, George and Akir were dismayed to hear the same report repeatedly – no change. According to the repair facility supervisor, the ruptured tank had escalated to cause stress fractures throughout the mainframe of the craft. In short, he said the vessel was beyond repair without a complete structural overhaul. Considering the advanced age of the vessel, he did not believe the repair would be economically feasible. So here George and Akir lingered in the VPO lounge sipping cold drinks while their ship sat in a hanger awaiting final disposition.
“I can’t believe we’re stuck here,” commented George over the lip of his glass.
Akir set his own glass on the table. “It could be worse.”
“How?”
“We could be floating cold out there in space somewhere,” answered Akir. “I mean, if we have to be stranded, Shalimar is definitely the place to be.”
“You have a point there,” George agreed. “I guess it’s a good thing we weren’t on a mission to Hadeous, huh?”
“Absolutely,” Akir answered with a grin as he raised his glass in a mock toast. “Can you imagine what the visitor quarters are like on the home world of the Red-tails?”
“Yeah,” George said, picking up Akir’s train of thought. “Probably lumpy beds and no cold drinks!”
“Not to mention no air conditioning.”
“For sure. And when they invite you to dinner, they really mean it!”
George decided he really liked this strange little man. He didn’t take himself too seriously. More importantly, Akir didn’t let George take himself too seriously either. There was a light side to the man that he found refreshing.
At that moment, an announcement sounded over the lounge paging system. Captain George Citti, please report to the reception desk. Captain George Citti, please report to the reception desk.
“I wonder what that’s all about?” George asked Akir as he rose to his feet.
Akir shrugged his shoulders as if to say he didn’t have a clue. “Let’s go see.”
As George and Akir approached the reception desk, a trooper-first in a casual black utility uniform spotted them and walked toward them, a small satchel at his side.
“You Captain Citti?”
“Yes sir,” George answered. “And this is Akir Asmed, my copilot.”
“Copilot? On a scout ship?” the trooper-first asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Special mission, sir,” Akir interjected.
The trooper-first nodded and motioned George and Akir to a seating area in the reception lounge. They took a seat at a small table near a large picture window overlooking a luscious botanical garden.
“Peaceful, isn’t it?” asked the trooper-first.
“Yes sir,” answered George, wondering what this was all about. “Very pretty.”
“Don’t get used to it,” the trooper-first said. “I’ve got orders for you.”
“Me, sir?” asked George, incredulously.
“Yes, you.”
“But, sir. My ship is in the repair depot,” George protested. “The dock chief says it will require a full refit. There’s no way I can fly it.”
The trooper-first opened his satchel and took out a package of papers. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Trooper Citti, but your ship is being routed to the recycling center where it will be turned into paperclips and tabletops.”
“But . . .” George started to say.
“In the meantime,” the trooper-first continued, “you’ll report to hanger 6102 where you’ll take command of your new Galaxy class deep recon scout.” He handed George the sheaf of papers along with a set of operational code keys. George accepted them, noting the registration number embossed on each key.
“My personal effects . . .” George said.
“Are still on your ship,” the trooper-first finished his sentence again. “Go by the repair hanger and collect your personals.”
“Yes, sir,” George answered, fingering the keys.
“When you’re finished there, go to 6102 and sign for your new ship,” the trooper first ordered.
George looked back and forth between Akir and the trooper-first. “Sir?” George asked. “When you say new ship . . .”
“I mean a new ship. Brand new off the production line.”
The trooper-first rose to leave. “Sir?” Akir said.
“Yes?”
“What about me?”
“You?”
“Yes, sir. Me.” Akir answered. “Do you have orders for me too?”
The trooper-first shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “Nothing for you.” He turned again to leave but this time George stopped him.
“Pardon me, sir,” George said. “My orders?”
The trooper-first pointed at the sheaf of papers in George’s hand. “They’re sealed in the safe of your new ship. Your code keys will give you the combination.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it right away.”
“You do that,” the trooper-first answered. He then turned and walked away, not looking back to see the stunned expressions on the faces on the two pilots.
George and Akir sat back down. George leafed through the package of papers assigning a new ship to him. This sudden turn of events ha
d left him in shock. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever considered that he would be the captain of a new production ship, much less one of the Galaxy class deep recon scouts.
Akir reached across the table and laid his hand on George’s arm. “George?”
“Huh?”
“We’ve got orders, George,” Akir said. “At least you do. Don’t you think you better go get your personal effects off the Starduster and report to that hanger?”
George shuffled the papers back into order and stood up. Akir stayed seated. “You coming?” he asked his new friend.
“But I don’t have orders,” Akir protested.
“Your orders are that you’re my copilot until you’re relieved by command. Have you been relieved by command?”
“No sir.”
“Then you’re with me,” George said. “Get on your feet, trooper. We’ve got things to do, people to see, places to go, galaxies to conquer!”
“Laundry to pickup?” Akir inserted.
“That too,” agreed George. “You ready?”
“Yes sir, Captain, sir,” Akir answered enthusiastically. “Lead the way, sir.”
The two men turned and walked out of the reception lounge, neither sure where their paths would take them.
∞∞∞
The wall clock read two minutes until eight when Stan and Delmar took their seats. Precisely at eight, Professor Angle entered and started the class.
“Good morning, class!” he said brightly. The response was less than enthusiastic. “I see you’ve all been working on your latest assignment.”
He ignored their groans. Delmar was beginning to think perhaps there was a sadistic side to Professor Angle.
“I hope that now you have a rudimentary grasp on those diagrams,” Professor Angle said. “Are there any questions before I continue?” Stan raised his hand.
The Horicon Experience Page 8