This was fantastically risky for the ship’s relative drive, so of course emergency protocols dropped them out of soft-space. This, in turn, exposed the breached hull area to vacuum, and vacuum while travelling at maximum subluminal cruising velocity. While that didn’t make any measurable difference to the violence of the decompression – vacuum was vacuum was vacuum – the transition from relative speed to normal space was considerably more explosive than a mere decompression caused by a hull breach into vacuum. Explosive enough to churn the nearest eejit into pulp and spray all but a few scraps of his body into space, but only decompress the other two as the cutting tool’s power pack lodged in the slice.
Although they hadn’t been at relative speed the last time they had lost the majority of an eejit overboard, the similarities between the cases were sobering – and this time, as Waffa himself said, they were to blame, not some nutty synth.
Bruce didn’t hold it against him.
The crewmembers involved, especially Decay and Waffa, were repentant and unwilling to show their faces for the rest of that leg, having disgraced themselves in front of Thord and her companions, if not the rest of their crewmates. It wasn’t a true fatality, of course, but Bruce understood that wetware loss was a different category to hardware damage. Bruce itself often wrestled with the conundrum of where software such as itself fitted into the spectrum. It understood the idea of the eejits’ deaths being viscerally close to a loss of an organic crewmember, even if it didn’t have viscera itself except in the most analogous of ways. The organic crewmembers were more affected by what had happened, and by their part in it. Even Doctor Cratch had an uncharacteristically stern tsk about the sad affair, and nobody blasted his hands and feet off.
They had been very lucky not to damage the field toruses themselves with such a sudden disruption to their flight – the only damage done had been to the hull, and they were able to slow down to a safe all-stop in about half an hour, perform the makeshift repairs that were all they could handle in three, and then accelerate back towards maximum cruising velocity, ready to resume their journey. An unpleasant object lesson learned about playing games in the presence of easily suggestible eejits, they patched up as best they could in the wake of the Hardware Misuse Causing Fatality incident and limped on towards their next stop. Within five hours they were back on their way, the dismal silence filling the ship even more noticeable to Bruce’s widespread senses.
When they arrived at Seven Widdershins it was a pleasant surprise to get an immediate nod from an AstroCorps beacon, and this went a long way towards cheering up the crew again. The settlement was, for all its issues, very much alive.
Seven Widdershins was another old and fairly small-scale place, a cluster of exchange-fitted asteroids – seven of them, hence the name – with a small artificial fusion-compound sun in the middle providing warmth and energy. The asteroids themselves weren’t exactly Worldship-scale engineering, but they were ambitious within modest boundaries, unlike Wynstone’s Attic. As they approached, Bruce noted an unusual amount of space-borne wreckage and repair craft, and a proportionally unusual lack of AstroCorps traffic, but it was in a position to gather information far more swiftly than the crew managed through their clumsy communication efforts.
The asteroid cluster had, Bruce learned, actually been host to a pair of Worldships, the rather famous New Fleet Separatist ships Tomis Etta and Lelhbron, less than two months ago. They’d delivered a whole mess of modulars – almost a Chrysanthemum’s worth – and components including fabricator plants, before cruising back out of the system for parts unknown. The existence of the Fleet Separatists did not necessarily mean the Fleet was still around, but it was a good sign. This, however, was the ‘good news’ side of the coin.
A group of – in Clue’s own heated words, once she learned the details – fucking morons going by the name The Bloody Hands had attacked the orbital shipyard warehouses and destroyed the whole lot, plunging Seven Widdershins into what would probably have looked like total chaos if the crew of the Tramp hadn’t seen The Warm. This had only been about a week ago, and the emergency services were still repairing damage.
This meant that their fleeting hope of getting a replacement fabrication plant before reaching Þursheim was dashed almost before it had a chance to flower, but at least they knew the attack had been domestic in origin, even though it had been baffling and tragic beyond measure.
Karlists, though. Bruce heard the mutters about that – and more than just mutters. The crew talked about it quite openly in conversation, while the Tramp approached the settlement and entered the slightly-more-complex-than-usual docking and clearance process. The Karlists were in league with the Cancer every step of the way. Did it make a difference whether it was Damorakind itself that had performed the attack, or their cultists among the Six Species?
Bruce couldn’t help but wonder. The attack had wiped out the only able fabrication technology Seven Widdershins had possessed, not to mention the other machinery included in the modulars. Seven Widdershins itself was as low-tech as Wynstone’s Attic, its population simple and traditional and happily isolated. And after the attack, the rest of the AstroCorps ships had departed too. Seven Widdershins had been neatly reduced to a simple yet self-sufficient level of technology in a single stroke, and although it had caused numerous deaths the toll was actually about as minimal as Bruce could tweak its simulations to replicate. If there was anything to the developing theory of the unknown attackers leaving the little people alone, then Seven Widdershins had been protected by the attack, not harmed.
And then there was the Corps response. Seven Widdershins had had a reasonable AstroCorps presence, which explained the delivery of parts and ships. In the wake of the warehouse and shipyard attack, however, they’d shipped out.
All of them. All the ones left alive after the attack, anyway.
This was highly unorthodox, especially considering the attack itself. Bruce would have expected a security detachment and a full-scale ongoing investigation, but the only procedures that seemed active were purely civilian in nature. The AstroCorps orders and statements, which Bruce read even if it technically wasn’t authorised to view them, didn’t make allowances for the attack so much as mention it in passing as a sort of extenuating circumstance. The three warships and eight modulars of the standing Seven Widdershins AstroCorps force had just up and left, with very little Bruce could see in the way of justification.
It looked as though the eleven Captains had visited the Worldships and discussed something there, and had then held another conference among themselves following the alleged Karlist attack, and then just decided to mobilise. The conferences had taken place painstakingly offline, however, so not even Bruce was privy to what had been discussed, and neither had the synthetic intelligence presence aboard the three warships been at the time. And the Worldships Tomis Etta and Lelhbron, although possessed of synths themselves, had not logged any sort of connection to the Seven Widdershins computers so there was nothing to see.
Why, Bruce thought, it was almost as if they hadn’t wanted the synth to know what they were doing. Which was stupid, because whatever they were trying to do, they would screw it up royally without the synth’s help. Nothing was more certain.
Still, Bruce was able to filter a bit of information out of the masses of mundane comms and logs stored in the painfully thick Seven Widdershins computer. It was like trying to get an account of an important conversation from somebody who had been in the next room, when all that person had been paying attention to was how many times the lights had been switched on and off.
Yes. The Molren had brought news of attacks, or a gathering, a regroup or a counter-strike, and had delivered hardware to significantly boost the AstroCorps profile around Seven Widdershins. Then the Tomis Etta and the Lelhbron had taken off, then somebody had destroyed the extra ships and equipment, and then the remaining AstroCorps group had headed out for the aforementioned gathering / regroup / counter-strike.
&nb
sp; It hadn’t gone exactly like that, though, had it? There was always some measure of autonomy and adjustment for interpretation among AstroCorps crews, as exemplified by AstroCorps Captains. There had to be – in a military body where even relative speed communications could take months or years, orders had to take into account the probability that those giving them simply were not in possession of all the facts.
So the eleven Captains, and their eleven ships, had gone their own way and the civilian authority of Seven Widdershins had been left to pick up the pieces. There were some AstroCorps guys left, but they were essentially worthless, and unwilling to ship out on the Tramp even if the Tramp had been willing to take them. It was like The Warm all over again. If they’d been worthwhile replacement crew, they would have shipped out with the eleven. The rest of the AstroCorps crew and officers, who hadn’t been signed onto the crews of the three warships and eight modulars, had been organising things on board the new ships, and had been killed in the Karlist attack.
So soon after being promoted, too, Bruce mused. It was cosmically unfair. At least the handful left at Seven Widdershins were still alive, and Bruce could hardly blame them for wanting to stay that way.
The Karlists were all dead too, as far as anyone knew – killed in the same series of Godfire detonations that had destroyed the modulars and equipment and a couple of thousand good AstroCorps men and women.
Karlists. Bruce couldn’t seem to get past that. Karlists, of all things. Was that something that had caused the Seven Widdershins Captains to adjust their actions?
In the end, there seemed little could be done. The crew enjoyed another couple of days of shore leave while the Tramp received as much repair as the settlement was capable of providing. This was mostly limited to large-scale hull plate replacements and other ‘garage-class’ repairs, nothing to do with the fabricators or the computer.
Again.
- - - Seven Widdershins to Prufrock + 2 days shore leave + 2 weeks shipboard + total duration from The Warm 17 weeks shipboard + incident report - - -
- - - Human crewmembers each confirmed and reported usual dream activity + distraction during waking shifts + varying degrees of disproportionate response to stimuli in working situations, leading to minor lapses in judgement and personal altercations - - -
- - - Eejit crewmembers reported similar ongoing effects + Blaran crewmember reported analogous Molranoid impact on mental processes + Bonshoon passengers unaffected + medical and psychological analyses sought - - -
- - - Enhanced intensity of dreams and enhanced behavioural sensitivity declared to be within AstroCorps parameters for the transportation of / collaboration with aki’Drednanth crew + low-level telepathic interference with subconscious and group-psyche dynamic + as familiarity grows between aki’Drednanth and new associates, interference expected to increase then sharply decrease as aki’Drednanth exerts control over new-formed interconnections - - -
- - - Result + Low levels of sleep-encouraging medication prescribed for human crewmembers on request + gonazine recommended for crewmember G-M-D-(A) [Decay] + gonazine use was refused, deemed non-essential - - -
- - - Report ends - - -
Bruce was still a little hazy on the differences between the ables they’d picked up at The Warm and the eejits they’d had on board all along, at least in terms of comparative sentience levels and capabilities, but they were neatly partitioned and labelled and so it was able to distinguish them for the rare occasions it was called for by official procedures. Janya was interested in the differences between the ables’ dream-reporting and the eejits’ dream-reporting, but as far as Bruce could see the biggest difference seemed to be that the eejits were generally semi-literate at best and therefore their reports smacked hilariously of ‘four-year-old describing nightmare to parents’.
It was entirely normal for a crew integrating with an aki’Drednanth to experience some low levels of psychic interference as she got used to the new minds around her. Even though the overwhelming majority of non-aki’Drednanth minds were not compatible and unable to touch the aki’Drednanth Dreamscape, they did brush one another in basic electromagnetic ways – and with a system as sensitive as an organic mind, the results could be vivid.
As Cratch and the Bonshooni predicted, these incidents peaked harmlessly and then faded back to relative zero as the days and weeks passed and Thord settled in. Their big, frosty new friend did change a little after Gethsemane, and still more after Seven Widdershins, but this was no doubt part of the same settling process. Her quiet joviality became more subdued, the ‘light-laugh’ of her interactive mood display a less common sight, but all in all she was still good company. Not only that, but she was settling into her new domain for a reasonably long-haul flight, and everyone knew aki’Drednanth first settled into a space and then got slightly territorial about it. And when you were as big as an aki’Drednanth, a little bit of ‘territorial’ went a long way.
- - - Seven Widdershins to Prufrock + 2 days shore leave + 2 weeks shipboard + total duration from The Warm 17 weeks shipboard + incident report - - -
- - - Crewmember JW001 [Janus] involved in minor altercation with civilian passenger designated Thord + crewmember JW001 made uninvited entry to oxygen farm habitat assigned as quarters for civilian passenger designated Thord + altercation was non-physical and no damage of a bodily or psychic nature was incurred + mild nervous reaction observed - - -
- - - Result + formal apologies issued both by crewmember JW001 and civilian passenger designated Thord for misunderstanding and overreaction + civilian passenger designated Maladin and civilian passenger designated Dunnkirk formally undertake to act as visitation schedule keepers / announcers in case of future intrusions - - -
- - - Report ends - - -
Still, it wasn’t all disasters and incidents and altercations. As they closed in on the planet Prufrock, for example, Zeegon made a joke about taking the opportunity to stock up on coffee spoons. Z-Lin ordered a full sentient-crew and passenger assembly following this remark, and announced for the official shipboard record that this was the one millionth time a crewmember on board an AstroCorps starship had made the ‘coffee spoons joke’.
Bruce personally doubted the precision of this declaration, unfounded as it was by any statistics, logs or census information, but the crew certainly appreciated it. An impromptu ‘coffee spoon party’ was held – again in accordance with AstroCorps regulations that Bruce quietly suspected Clue of making up on the spot – during which each organic sentient was permitted to ceremoniously bonk Zeegon on the head with a coffee spoon and then stand in a circle around him and deliver a hearty round of applause.
Zeegon stood up after this and made a short speech, conceding ‘most elaborately sarcastic response’ acknowledgement to the Commander until such time as he could recover and plan a devastating return salvo. Moods were immediately lightened for an enduring period of time, and Bruce found itself regretting that it had been unable to use an Automated Janitorial Drone to deliver its own coffee-spoon-head-bonk in the spirit of the occasion.
Prufrock was another small planetary settlement. It had no beacon, which caused everyone a little concern on approach, but it turned out to be undergoing routine maintenance and before they reached orbit it was up and nodding again. The settlement was intact, the population unharmed – and although Prufrock was again too backwater to afford them any useful repair or restock, they took another couple of days of shore leave before heading back out once more.
- - - Prufrock to Þursheim + 2 days shore leave + 3 weeks shipboard + total duration from The Warm 20 weeks shipboard + all-hands alarm report - - -
Then they got to Þursheim.
Or rather, they didn’t.
JANUS
The passengers and crew, or at least everyone on board who wasn’t a mass-murderer or born out of a fabricator, met in the conference room just off the primary bridge. It was a long, slightly-curved chamber with a table and enough multi-species furniture to seat the e
ntire senior crew and the senior crew of a visiting ship of even greater size, so the Trampsters barely filled up one end even with Thord, Dunnkirk and Maladin joining them.
Aside from the ables, the eejits and the Rip, only Z-Lin and the Captain were missing from the gathering. The Commander, apparently, was delivering notifications to the Captain’s door, and possibly receiving orders as well. Nobody really bothered to ask anymore, and at the moment the mood was too agitated anyway. Janus hadn’t actually heard much, just that the Tramp was settling once again to all-stop and that Þursheim, apparently, was gone.
“Alright,” Zeegon quickly put this concern to rest, “Þursheim is not gone. I guess I was a bit hasty when I made that announcement. We dropped out of soft-space and there was no star system out there – or there’s a star system, but no habitable planets, and definitely no Þursheim, so naturally I assumed the worst. Then I realised,” he coughed a little embarrassedly, “that we were just massively off-course and nowhere near the Þursheim system.”
“Didn’t you check the flight plan?” Waffa asked.
“Hey,” Zeegon protested, “I keep telling you. When we took off from Prufrock I got the plan as usual, all I saw was a whole lot of numbers and I keyed in the commands like I was shown,” he spread his hands helplessly. “It looked right. I don’t know what half that garbage is, in the flight plan coordinates, but if I’m told ‘those numbers and that gibberish, that means Þursheim’, then that’s what I enter. You know it’s hit and miss if I’m even allowed to look at the destination data. I mostly don't bother. Come on, you think I know every coordinate of every–”
“Alright, it wasn’t your fault,” Z-Lin said, striding into the room. “You did everything right. It was a command override,” she sat down in a seat at the head of the table reserved for her. “We’ve taken a detour.”
Drednanth: A Tale of the Final Fall of Man Page 18