Gronolf opens his eyes. He is sitting in his chair, all alone. One of the memories has returned without him having to use the archives. The following day he was court-martialed for destroying Sector 23. Nobody believed the story of his persecution. It sometimes happens that trained warriors grab a weapon and start shooting randomly. They believed him to be such a madman. Yet he was vindicated before a verdict was reached, because something similar happened the next day in the sector of a different company.
His claim that the Omniscience entered his mind using his mother’s voice was still dismissed as an illusion, after a Life Scientist stated that such visions were not uncommon when suffering from oxygen deprivation. A Motion Scientist also insisted that such a manipulation would be completely impossible. Yet Gronolf knows what he experienced.
Someday he will get even with the Omniscience.
Archive, Darknight 9, 3350
A somber melody sounds. The entire crew of the ship is lined up. Eight warriors carry the deceased through the crowd on a repurposed sleeping beam. Gronolf, who is standing in the front row, recognizes the typical marks of frostbite on the skin. This is already the third victim of a series of events the superiors stubbornly call accidents, even though nobody believes that. Supposedly, as the electronic log kept by the Omniscience stated, the deceased, in each case, opened the connection to a sealed, airless chamber. The records are clear and allow for no other interpretations. But why should three young warriors deliberately kill themselves?
The Knowledge Scientists checked the log file and could not find any manipulation. Accordingly, this is the official version of the story. Gronolf does not know what their superiors think about this, but for him the case is clear: The Omniscience has murdered these warriors. He has to admit, though, that his theory has a pretty obvious flaw. Nobody knows the reason for the killing. The three victims were not important. Why should the Omniscience run the risk of maybe getting caught? It did not achieve anything through these so-called accidents it could not also have achieved by different means.
The only motive Gronolf can come up with is pure bloodlust. Yet that is unimaginable. The Omniscience is not a normal being. It should be far above such primitive instincts. The Knowledge Scientists stress that as well. Accordingly, the leadership currently refrains from moving against the Omniscience.
The question is, what good would it do anyway? They are going to need the Omniscience, at least until the Majestic Draght has reached its destination. The superiors know that, as does the Omniscience. Gronolf is therefore glad this moment will arrive soon—though he simultaneously feels a vague sense of dread.
The musicians play another song. The fact that they are performing here today is an enormous concession by the leadership. The first performance by this grandiose quartet was supposed to have happened after their arrival, to celebrate the successful great jump. Now however their superiors think it necessary to strengthen the crew’s morale. Everyone is listening in awe. Gronolf is kneading his hands because the melodies are so moving. It must have been difficult for those four to refrain from presenting their art for so long.
A high-ranking officer steps up to him.
“Please appear in Sector 1 in half a bubble period.”
“Understood.” Gronolf briefly bends his knees to express respect.
Sector 1—that is the area where the leadership lives and works. One has to pass numerous checkpoints in order to enter it. He had better start now. Too bad I have to leave the music, he thinks, I won’t hear that musical quartet again for quite some time.
On the way he is stopped by Wakmir, who suddenly steps out of a side corridor, as if he had been waiting for him.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asks.
“Sector 1.”
“Oh, what an honor!”
“What do you want, Wakmir?” Gronolf shakes his knees impatiently.
“I heard something you might be interested in.”
Of course Wakmir lives up to his reputation, he thinks. “And what might that be?”
“If you are interested, come to Sector 132 after your shift.”
“Why should I?”
“That’s your decision. But I have the feeling you are going to be there.” Wakmir places both touch-hands on the pit of his stomach, a sign of deference.
The old bootlicker! Gronolf hates being so obviously manipulated, yet Wakmir is probably right. But first he has to reach Sector 1.
At the entrance of the leadership sector, he first has to hand over his weapon and then slowly walk through a metal detector. The last step is a brain scan. Supposedly the intelligence service can tell from activity patterns in his thinking layers whether he has rebellious thoughts. Gronolf doesn’t really believe that. It probably is just meant to have a deterrent effect. The officer on duty asks him to sit in a special chair. Then Gronolf imagines in great detail how he would slaughter the leadership with his weapon.
“Everything is fine,” the officer says after one-tenth of a bubble period, thanking him for his cooperation. Gronolf is amused but refuses to show it. Of course he realizes his tests offer no final proof, as the technology might be able to detect manipulated thoughts. Unfortunately he does not have any acquaintances working for the intelligence service. Gronolf thinks about the members of his plex, but none of them have pursued that career, at least not to his knowledge. The intelligence service developed a long time ago, during conflicts among Grosnops, and even though it officially has no enemies to spy on, it has managed to avoid being abolished.
At the end of the checkpoint a young female is waiting for him. Gronolf feels how the arousal nodes distributed across his body pulsate at her sight. He has not seen a female for so long that he can’t quite control himself. Actually, females are not allowed to serve in the fleet. However, there are rumors spreading about an entire sector of the ship inhabited solely by females, with whose help the colonization of the planet would become possible. He always thought this was just soldiers’ wistful dreams.
“I am Murnaka, the daughter of Murnak,” she says. “You seem... surprised?”
He has to think about what he should say. “I, no... I knew of course that the leadership group has male and female members.” And the rules of the dual sun indeed require an equal distribution of all positions. After all, Father Sun and Mother Sun are equals in the sky. The fact that only male representatives of the leadership show themselves in other sectors seems reasonable to him, as it avoids confusing the warriors’ senses.
“I will take you to the meeting,” Murnaka says, turning around and walking ahead.
Gronolf follows her. She is an arm’s length taller than he is. He particularly notices her wide, swaying hips. They protect the egg chamber, in which the female organism prepares the eggs before laying them. Murnaka’s skin is still so smooth and light green that she cannot have laid eggs yet.
“What is this all about?” he asks, less out of curiosity and more to hear her voice.
“I don’t know, and even if I did, it would be inappropriate for me to tell you,”
“What is your function?”
“I am a learner. If I don’t embarrass myself, I will become part of the leadership group after the landing on Single Sun.”
That is a great honor for a young female. This means Murnaka must have been one of the best of her plex.
“And how is it going?”
“Quite well, I think.” Murnaka closes the lid of her rear eye and reopens it while saying these words in order to demonstrate her modesty.
“More than well, I bet,” Gronolf says. This was almost a crude pick-up attempt, so he softens its effect by briefly closing his front eye. Who knows what her father might do to him otherwise? Murnak does not know his name, though, because except for his father, Gronolf has no connections to the leadership group.
“We are here,” Murnaka says, pointing to an inconspicuous door with her right touch arm. There is no lettering on the door.
Gronolf
stops for a moment.
“You have to speak your name,” she says.
Of course he knows that. He just wanted to take a quick breath. He hopes Murnaka will not consider him stupid and hot-headed, as many warriors are. He wants to tell her that, but she has already disappeared, as if she had never existed. Too bad, he thinks.
“Gronolf Carriontooth.”
The door opens immediately. Behind it is a spacious hall, which is surprisingly empty. Gronolf enters it. There is a pleasant smell of fish. On the right side of the room he sees a long table, with a large number of chairs around it. One set, he estimates, meaning seven times seven. Most of them are occupied. Somebody stands next to the table and waves at him. He starts moving with measured steps. The atmosphere in this hall is grand, and he fears that his mere presence might destroy it.
“Gronolf Carriontooth,” says the Grosnop who waved him over, partially to him and partially to the others. It is an older female. She does not offer any further explanation besides his name. This is an incredible honor, and Gronolf feels his back becoming cold with awe.
“Just sit down, Gronolf.” This is his father’s voice. He cannot see him, because a female next to him blocks the view of his body, but it is obviously him.
One chair turns by itself to indicate it is unoccupied and meant for him. Gronolf’s blood is pumping fast, as if he were about to enter a battle. What do they want from him here?
For a moment there is silence. Then Gronolf hears a scratching noise. His father gets up and starts walking around the long table, as a speaker properly should.
“The leadership circle, Gronolf Carriontooth, has been worried for a while,” his father states. Whenever he passes someone in a chair, he winks at the person with his side eye.
“The Omniscience—how can I say this?—no longer cooperates with us the way we would want it to. While we still can send it our commands, it often finds reasons for not implementing them. We cannot accuse it of insubordination, because the Omniscience bases these reasons on supreme rules which we are also subject to. Its arguments are so clever that even our best Knowledge Scientists have nothing to oppose them with.”
Gronolf is surprised, not by the contents of the speech, as even common soldiers realize by now that the Omniscience likes to use these supreme rules as an excuse. What surprises—or rather shocks—him is that the leadership group seems to have no strategy to fight this. Why else would they have invited him?
“You are probably wondering what you have to do with this and what this invitation is all about,” his father adds promptly. “The Knowledge Scientists have extrapolated that the Omniscience might gain complete control of the ship in the near future. These recent events indicate that it does not regard us as its masters, but rather as a means to an end, or even a burden.”
Gronolf is annoyed. Not even his father dares to call these ‘events’ what they really are, sneaky murders of crew members. He will have to try to hide his anger.
His father briefly stops, makes a 180-degree turn and walks in the opposite direction. “We have to be prepared for this,” he says. “There is a mechanism, an emergency switch we can use to remove functions from the Omniscience. That way we can cut off all its exterior connections. Then it has no influence on the ship anymore, and is only responsible for the engine.”
That would be our death, Gronolf thinks. Without the Omniscience we will hardly reach Single Sun.
“The emergency switch is in a chamber. We have to occupy that chamber so we can use the emergency switch once we arrive in the system of Single Sun. We cannot send a company, and nobody from the leadership group should participate. That is why we thought of you. You are, if you excuse the evaluation, a simple crew member, but you are also the best of your plex and, of course, my son, so you enjoy our full trust.”
“Won’t I need certain authorizations to get into control areas?”
His father stops. Numerous eyes watch Gronolf, who dared to say something without being asked.
“Of course you will need authorizations to fulfill this task. However, the Omniscience would notice it if we grant them to you now. Therefore the learner Murnaka will accompany you. Both of you will occupy the security chamber, thus enabling us to deactivate the Omniscience. You already met Murnaka. During the last few weeks we gradually transferred all authorizations to her. This fits the story that she eventually will join the leadership circle. We are hoping the two of you are still unimportant enough that the Omniscience will ignore you.”
“We are hoping?”
“Yes, Gronolf. Nothing is certain. However, the Omniscience is not really omniscient. It has to distribute its resources, just as we do, and this means it is not aware of the many actions performed by individual crew members. Naturally, you will attract its attention once you approach the control area. By that time you have to expect countermeasures. You will definitely need vacuum equipment, weapons, and tools.”
“I understand. Task accepted,” Gronolf says.
“I would suggest you two get a good night’s sleep and then start with the implementation,” his father says. “Once you are on the way we can no longer communicate. While this room is bug-proof, you two will be on your own out there.”
“Thanks. May I leave?”
“Just a moment.” A Grosnop general gets up at the end of the table. The man looks ancient, and his voice is hoarse. “I am Murnak,” he says. “I will kill you if you take liberties with my daughter.”
Gronolf accepts this statement without showing any emotion, and none of those present say anything. It is the duty of a father to find the best sperm donor for his daughter. And who would be more suitable than the warrior who defeats the father in an honest fight? If he should actually lose against the old man, the shame of that defeat would be with him forever. Therefore it is only right that he should lose his life if he loses the fight. If he wins, everyone expects him to show mercy to the father of his future wife. That’s how life has always been on the world of the double sun.
Brightnight 37, 3876
The memory of Murnaka moves him so much he has to deactivate the archive. Gronolf emerges from the past. How could he have forgotten her? He cannot imagine that the long sleep would have such effects. And what happened to her? He jerks upright. The system knows everything! If Murnaka is on board, it will answer his question in a moment.
Gronolf leans forward and starts typing, but then he stops. Should he really check? And what if he finds Murnaka in a sleeping chamber marked red, and she only consists of slime and putrefaction? Right now he still has hope of seeing her again. He must not be weak. Murnaka could be a great help. He trusts her and he knows her abilities. It is a sensible choice to have the system look for her. Gronolf enters her description and waits in suspense.
“Error,” the system reports. Gronolf’s stomach rumbles angrily. He goes over the messages. The search routine obviously cannot handle the large number of defective sleeping chambers, as the Knowledge Scientists did not anticipate such a status. However, he can have the system displays lists of names sorted by the first syllable.
Gronolf enters the symbol for ‘Mur.’ The secondary lists still contain more than a hundred entries. He patiently reads through them until he reaches Murnak. His heart is beating faster. Murnaka’s father is in one of the sleeping chambers. Gronolf calls up all the details. Everything appears red—Murnak has been dead for many cycles. If the system had only awakened him earlier! Now he will never be able to fight against Murnaka’s father.
What about his daughter? Gronolf scrolls and scrolls, but her name is missing. He leans back. Either the system is defective, which he does not believe, or Murnaka never made it to one of the sleeping capsules. He feels his eyelids drooping with sorrow. If there were only remnants in a capsule he could say farewell to! What happened to her? He digs through his memory but remembers only what he saw in the archive recordings. He definitely has to carry on.
Gronolf listens, but the shelter building remains q
uiet. He activates the camera. Adam and Eve seem to be still asleep. Marchenko, on the other hand, has changed significantly. The abilities of this machine are amazing.
Gronolf reactivates the sonar transmission and once again drifts into the past.
Archive, Darknight 9, 3350
After the briefing in Sector 1, Gronolf walks directly to his quarters. He had hoped to be able to talk to Murnaka before leaving, but his wish did not come true. It is actually not necessary. Murnaka will know what to do, and he can prepare himself without hurrying. Gronolf has to clean his weapon, check his tool belt, and test his vacuum equipment. He starts with his weapon. Step by step he disassembles it, cleans the parts, and reassembles them. This work feels good. It is totally unclear what tomorrow and the following days will bring. If they are lucky, the Omniscience won’t notice anything. Yet Gronolf knows he cannot rely on that—he has to be vigilant the whole time. He hopes he will be able to remain watchful despite the presence of the young female. He cannot even dream of desiring the female learner as long as he is only his father’s son.
Shortly before the end of his shift the quarters get crowded, because his comrades return from exercises. It is not a good sign that they don’t arrive at exactly the same time. There is more and more sloppiness these days, and they all might have to pay a price for it. Yet Gronolf keeps these thoughts to himself. Then he remembers Wakmir’s invitation. What is going on in Sector 132 after work? Gronolf is not in the mood to get involved in something, but it also might be a mistake to ignore the unrest among the crew. Therefore, he gets on his way.
A soldier sits on the ground in front of the entrance to Sector 132. He has pushed his legs under his body, looking very casual, and he scratches his stomach fold with two of the seven fingers of his right touch-hand.
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