“So what happened, Wakmir?”
“So now you want to know it after all?”
“You can’t just give me a bite and then leave me hungry.”
“Oh well, okay, but only because it’s you. The general is supposed to have become very aggressive. The Omniscience did make a fool of him in front of the others. Then the security forces had to move him to the medical sector.”
“Who gave that order? One of the other generals?”
“Your father, you mean? No. The great irony is that the Omniscience made the decision. It is responsible for monitoring the mental health of the entire crew.”
Archive, Darknight 89, 3349
Gronolf is in a deep and dreamless sleep. Suddenly the image of his father in uniform manifests itself in his consciousness.
“Alarm! Wake up!” his father says without moving a single muscle. This tells Gronolf that it is a general alert. Right now, the system transmitted this message into the mind of everyone on board, whether awake or asleep. This means it is very serious. Gronolf opens his eyes and jumps from his sleeping beam. He reaches for the weapon in his locker and runs into the corridor with his comrades.
“What happened?” he asks the others, but nobody knows anything.
Finally there is an announcement.
“The life support system in Sector 132 has been deactivated.”
A defect in the ship—and they wake the entire crew for that? A sense of agitation spreads. He can’t be the only one who thinks this way.
“It is not a defect, as the diagnostic program has proven. Sector 132 was sealed off and no longer receives air. Your group is tasked with finding the cause.”
This message obviously was sent directly to his company. His commanding officer is yelling something. The others run to their lockers to get oxygen masks. Gronolf follows them. Then they move through the ship on the double. All doors they pass have been locked.
“Stop!”
A large bulkhead looms in front of them. The company commander and two assistants try to convince the control system to open the door. The electronic system refuses to do so.
Two of his comrades are sent to the workshop. They return with huge devices that Gronolf recognizes as blowtorches. The bulkhead starts to glow. It cannot withstand this heat. The blowtorches cut a rectangular opening. The company commander insists on pushing the cut part of the metal to the side himself. At that moment another bulkhead slams down behind them.
Behind the newly-cut opening there is a huge hall full of machinery—and a vacuum. Why didn’t the electronic system warn them of the danger? Gronolf reaches for his oxygen mask. The air pressure blows the surprised company commander through the hall and smashes him against an open airlock. The others watch it as if paralyzed. Gronolf sprints forward. The company commander landed on the airlock in such a way that he is sealing off the opening in the exterior wall through which air is sucked out of the room. Gronolf notices right away that this is saving everyone’s life, and the company commander realizes it too. Gronolf must not free the commander from this position, but he holds an oxygen mask on the commander’s stomach so that the Grosnop breathes through it.
It takes a long time before help arrives, because the second bulkhead behind them also refuses to open. The company commander plugs the hole so well that the air pressure in Sector 132 is slowly recovering. The rear of his superior officer is exposed to the cold vacuum. In spite of it he does not utter a sound. He is a good company commander. If he dies, he will die honorably, Gronolf thinks. The helpers brought a special foil to seal the hole so that the company commander can finally leave the spot.
The company commander survives. His rear eye is lost and he cannot move his limbs as he used to, because a part of the thinking layer underneath his skin has been lost. Therefore he can no longer lead the company. He suggests Gronolf, who saved his life with the oxygen mask, to become his successor.
The problem in Sector 132, it turns out, was no defect. The Omniscience pumped air out of the sector because there was nobody in it. Accordingly, the need for air had fallen to zero. The Omniscience has matched requirement to reality. It refuses any communication concerning this issue.
“Why were we not informed about these measures?”
As the new commander of the affected unit, Gronolf is allowed to listen to the interrogation of the Omniscience. He is not familiar with the Knowledge Scientists asking the questions.
“There was no need for it.” The voice of the Omniscience sounds soft and natural, almost maternal.
“Lives were certainly endangered.”
“The sector had been properly sealed off. Nobody was in danger.”
“Company commander Tumrir was severely injured.”
“He illegally gained access. The bulkhead very clearly signaled that it was impossible to open. It was also considerably damaged during the illegal access.”
“The bulkhead is a thing, an object. If it receives the order to open, it has to follow it.”
“Due to the vacuum behind it the bulkhead could endanger lives once it opened. Not endangering lives is among the highest priorities.”
“Then it was a mistake to evacuate air from Sector 132.”
“Efficiency is also one of my highest priorities. If we reduce the areas filled with air, we can reach our destination more efficiently.”
“If Central Control had been informed about it, it could have reacted more appropriately.”
“My efficiency estimate showed that it was not advisable to pass on that information. The process would have been unduly lengthened.”
The Knowledge Scientist is at his wit’s end. Gronolf has never experienced anything like this. A scientist should always have an answer, just like a warrior should always have his weapon at the ready. It is even more shocking to him that the other members of the leadership don’t seem to have any ideas either. The Omniscience must be punished! Yet as a simple company commander he has no right to propose solutions to generals, even if his father is among them.
Archive, Brightnight 19, 3350
Since yesterday the ship has been accelerating again, and everyone is very upset. Gronolf drags himself through the corridors. He is needed in Sector 23. Under normal circumstances it would only take a few milli-bubbles to get there, but what is normal if the ship is using an acceleration 14 times the normal value? On the way he only comes across a few Grosnops. The majority of them also use their load-arms for walking. Gronolf is proud he is one of the few still staying upright. Suddenly a bulkhead slams down right in front of him. He gives it a nasty look from his front eye, but the bulkhead does not care. Another detour! He is actually on his way to a meeting of commanders because of this.
Nevertheless, he reaches Sector 23 three minutes before the appointed time. The room is not very large. It smells of food and sweat. There are about 200 commanders present. There is little sign of military order, and a majority of the others are lounging on the floor. Gronolf pinches his shoulder with his load arm. That is totally unacceptable! He deliberately stands upright in the middle, but nobody follows his example.
Significantly past the agreed-upon time, one of the generals speaks. This is also a sign that things are slowly going downhill. Previously the doors would have been closed at the appointed time and any commanders arriving late would have been demoted. The laxity is not a good development.
The general greets those present and describes the problem. “As soon as there is nobody left in a sector, the ship seals it off and deactivates the life-support system,” he explains.
“The ship?”
Who dares to interrupt a general? The question came from behind, but Gronolf does not know the person who asked it.
“The Omniscience, but then you all know that.”
A few of the commanders in the front rows laugh dutifully.
“We cannot let the Omniscience take control over the ship away from us. It is a matter of principle. The leadership always must have the last word.
Therefore we came up with a counter-strategy,” the general continues. “From now on your men will ensure we lose no additional rooms. They will patrol the ship in such a way that there is always at least one warrior in each sector.”
To Gronolf this looked like a cheap way out. It is typical: Instead of fighting the cause, their leaders try to minimize the effects of the problem. He does not think this is a strategy with much of a future.
“Why doesn’t anyone talk to the Omniscience?”
The commander who asked this is sitting a few steps away from Gronolf. He has known him since basic training.
“The Omniscience refuses to discuss any of its decisions.”
“What is its argument?”
“Its origin. It sums up the combined knowledge and the experience of millions of Grosnops. It says it cannot be wrong. It also says it is normal that we cannot comprehend its decisions.”
“Can’t we turn it off?”
“The Majestic Draght cannot be flown without the Omniscience. We need it for navigation, and the drive system won’t work without its control.”
Another commander speaks up. “The high acceleration is bothering my soldiers. Didn’t they say we had many days of weightlessness ahead of us?”
“The Omniscience decided to accelerate the Majestic Draught more so we can reach our destination earlier. That is more efficient.”
“Couldn’t you—”
“No,” the general interrupts him. “We cannot influence the decisions of the Omniscience, as long as it can invoke orders with the highest priority. During the construction of the ship it was assumed that the Omniscience would have a better overview of complex requirements.”
The Omniscience is starting to creep him out. Is it possible that the Knowledge Scientists misjudged its abilities? Shouldn’t they have known how it would behave during a mission?
Gronolf closes his eyes and visualizes his home planet. The memory floods him with warmth. He does not have to solve this problem—that is someone else’s job.
Archive, Brightnight 27, 3350
It has become quiet, as far as that is possible on board a spaceship. Gronolf enjoys the nightly patrols. He can walk through the empty corridors at his own pace and get lost in thoughts. He learns more and more about the ship during his walks. Nobody is bothering him, and he only has to take care not to leave the sector assigned to him. His company gets the same sectors for seven times seven days, and then they are switched to different ones. As the commander, he has the great advantage of being able to assign those areas he is most interested in to himself.
Today he is responsible for a medical laboratory. The room looks sterile, as expected. It smells of solvents. Along the walls there are machines whose functions he does not know. He assumes the Life Scientists can analyze bodily fluids here. There are slides with data and diagrams on top of one of the machines. The light has been dimmed to save energy.
Through a door which recognizes him and opens automatically he enters the next room, which is dominated by a sleeping beam. There is a multi-sectional mechanical arm holding a fearful array of tools on the ceiling. It looks as if surgical procedures are performed here. The sleeping beam is tempting. He really should get some rest. In order to avoid a sector being sealed off, it is enough if at least one Grosnop stays in it. He doesn’t have to walk around. Yet he also carries some responsibility as a company commander. If he is asleep he won’t be able to reach his fighters quickly in an emergency to assist them. While he does not know what this emergency might be like, he just wants to be on the safe side.
However, sitting on the sleeping beam for half a bubble period will certainly not hurt his subordinates. Gronolf sits astride the sleeping beam. He hopes he will never have to be operated on. The idea of having the circle of sharp, pointy tools coming down from the ceiling towards his body makes him shiver. He is proud that he is never afraid, but he has great respect for the work of the Life Scientists.
A door slams behind him. Gronolf opens his rear eye, but he cannot detect anything. The source of the noise must be far away. Shortly afterward there is a hissing sound. That was definitely a bulkhead mechanically moving downward. It must have happened south of him. His company is responsible for the sectors there. If they lose another area, he will be responsible for it. He has to go and look.
Gronolf jumps up and moves rapidly in the direction of the noise. He traverses a crew room, a waiting room, and an office. Suddenly he stands in front of a closed door. It is one of the hatches that should recognize him, but it seems to be defective. Gronolf looks at the room through all four eyes. There are four exits, one on each side. The one in front of him is closed, but if he goes to the right, then left and left again, he should be back on the way toward the source of the noise.
He turns around. There are only four steps to the ride side exit, but just as he gets there, the door also slams shut. That leaves the left exit. Somebody must be watching him. While his four eyes see what is happening around him, that isn’t enough. He only appears to be alone. Therefore Gronolf acts this time as if he is not sure what to do next. He even lets his knees tremble, and someone who knows the gestures of the Grosnops would draw appropriate conclusions. Without warning he jumps as far as he can. He reaches the exit on the other side in record time, but the door is faster.
This is outrageous. Someone is playing with him, someone who has access to the doors and the cameras in this room. This can only be the Omniscience. Gronolf wonders what to do. What is the Omniscience trying to achieve by blocking his way? Is there something back there he is not supposed to see? He examines the door. It is not very sturdy. He could break through it with his weapon. Then the plan of the Omniscience would fail, but he would have damaged the ship. Maybe that is exactly the plan? Is the Omniscience trying to make him damage this sector, so it will have to be abandoned?
Then the door, which the Omniscience closed first, reopens. Gronolf has to hold on, because a strong gust would otherwise sweep him off his feet. There must be a vacuum behind the door that was just opened. He has to leave this room right away, or he will suffocate. Gronolf uses his arms and legs and struggles towards the only door still open. He slips through it and the door immediately closes behind him. What was that? Is he now safe?
This room, an office, has two other doors. He receives an answer when one of them closes by itself. This can’t be true! He guesses what will happen next and therefore moves toward the still-open door. Just as he gets there, the air is sucked out of this room from the other side. He runs to safety into the following room. Yet here the game repeats itself: All exits except for one are closed and then the air is suctioned off. What might happen if he does not follow this invitation and refuses to leave the room?
Gronolf hates becoming some stranger’s plaything. Therefore he prepares for the next room as if going on a long dive. He inhales air into his primary and secondary stomachs. For such emergencies, both possess a connection to his lungs so he can stay under water for half a bubble period with some effort and without dying. He is just ready when the door opens again that he used to get into this room.
Gronolf keeps his eye on the only exit and exposes himself to the increasing vacuum. He is getting cold. The Omniscience must have managed to establish a direct connection to space, probably via the sectors already sealed off. He will survive the cold. His skin is covered by a thick layer of fat, which serves as insulation. Yet after about a quarter of a bubble period, he still feels the typical sensation of heat. That is a paradoxical reaction of his thinking layer. When the brain cells underneath his skin cool down too much, his mind reports this as a feeling of heat. His skin is burning. If it really were that hot, it would develop blisters.
Gronolf knows his brain can withstand a lot. During the draght it has to survive without oxygen for a much longer time. His thoughts are still clear, but he can feel the cold in his joints. He has to take that into account when he launches his escape. Then he won’t be able to run as fast as he is
used to. The heat becomes unbearable, but he tolerates it, nevertheless. The Omniscience will see what a Grosnop—who is the strongest of his plex—can do. Now he feels dizzy. In order to lower his energy requirements, he closes three of his eyes. The Omniscience must realize it won’t succeed with him. Once he is close to death, at the latest, it will again fill the room with air, as it is not allowed to kill a Grosnop. Gronolf will show the Omniscience its limits.
Suddenly somebody calls him. The voice sounds like his mother’s. She says farewell and thanks him for his honorable death, which will become a shining example for all young Grosnops. But that is impossible. His mother is billions of steps away and cannot reach him here. The Omniscience is obviously mocking him.
Gronolf is shaken by rage and simultaneously energized. He must not tolerate this incredible intrusion into his privacy. If he reports this to his superiors, they will finally have something to use against the Omniscience, which is willing to let him die in this room.
He has to get out of here! Gronolf starts running with his last remaining strength. However, the door offering his way out closes. He is imprisoned. No, nothing can stop him as long as he still has his weapon. He raises the weapon and fires at the door. Then he throws himself against it. The damaged door slams onto the floor of the next room. Gronolf does not stop. The Omniscience must suspect his intentions and will try to prevent his escape. Yet he has anger on his side.
He has to get out of this sector. The doors are no problem, even if they close, as he still has his weapon. However, he’d better not encounter a bulkhead. Luckily, the thick bulkheads are not very common. If he keeps to the left he should reach the crew room of the neighboring company. He hopes the Omniscience won’t be able to kill him anymore once he is among other Grosnops. He races through Sector 23, destroys one door after the other, and finally stumbles through the last door, behind which several younger warriors sit around a table, gambling. He is saved.
Proxima Dreaming Page 12