Gronolf senses that there is more at stake than fulfilling his duty as a warrior. Yet he should not get distracted by it.
“Thank you for your companionship,” Murnaka says.
His stomach rumbles. What is he supposed to reply? Nothing comes to mind. Therefore he simply releases the safety catch of his weapon and starts walking.
The airlock is in the central room of the life-support sector, and they are now in front of it. The many machines in the room generate so much noise on all wavelengths that their sensors will be overloaded. Technically, they will be blind as well. Gronolf positions himself left of the door hinge. In a moment, when the door opens to the left, he will have a good view of the right side of the room. The door panel will protect him from the left side.
As agreed, Murnaka stays behind him. She is even crouching slightly in order not to tower above him.
Gronolf silently counts to three and then pushes against the door. Most of all, he will have to be quick, as that is his advantage. Therefore he does not wait to see an enemy, or even just a movement, but immediately fires his harpoon into the opening. The explosive charge detonates three body lengths ahead and shreds an obstacle, whatever it was.
A metal part comes flying through the door opening, but Gronolf manages to catch it with a load-arm. He drops it right away, as it is red-hot. Then Gronolf takes a strong leap forward in order to use the dust cloud caused by the explosion. It takes him just a moment to load a new explosive charge into the harpoon. While he is still airborne he whips his weapon to the left. He notices three multi-armed, slender shapes. He does not see any details, because smoke and dust fill the room, but they could only be robots. Gronolf fires the weapon a second time. Two of the three robots fall before he even touches the ground.
Then the pain starts. Electrical energy surges through him when he hits the floor. His muscles twitch uncontrollably, while his mind remains strangely lucid. He can watch himself as if from outside as he smashes to the ground. He collapses like a wet sack, and the physical pain is overwhelming, excruciating, like nothing he has experienced with the possible exception of his draght.
Something flies toward him from the other room. He can only see Murnaka’s shadow. She bounces off the walls and the ceiling as if gravity did not exist. Her right foot hits his side and breaks several ribs, but the impulse rolls his body toward the door. Despite the pain, Gronolf manages to reach for the door panel at the right moment, Then one of his legs is outside the electrically charged area and he can lever himself to safety behind the wall, breathing heavily.
But where is Murnaka? He only now notices he has lost his weapon. He rolls around and looks into the large room. He can see movement behind the curtain of dust. Gronolf wants to run inside, but just in time he remembers the trap, the floor. Could he move across the wall and the ceiling, like Murnaka? Maybe, but only when his muscles have recovered from the electric shocks. He absolutely wants to save her, just like she saved him, but as an experienced warrior he knows it is no use.
Now visibility is increasing inside the life-support control room. A door opens in the back. He notices three more robots. They don’t bother with him, as if they know that he no longer poses a threat. They are rolling a large, heavy object out of the room. It is nearly conical. Gronolf has to watch helplessly as the Omniscience kidnaps Murnaka’s body. He angrily hammers his four hands against the floor. Yet the robots are not distracted.
When the door closes behind Murnaka and the robots, Gronolf goes limp. It is his fault that Murnaka sacrificed herself. He started combat just as he was trained to do. Naturally, the Omniscience expected this. It sacrificed a few robots and set a trap for them. He should have anticipated this! But why didn’t Murnaka just leave him lying in there? She should have slammed the door and fled. This whole mission was ill-fated from the beginning, he thinks in frustration.
Suddenly the ship trembles under an enormous blow. Gronolf jumps up, even though his limbs still hurt. What happened? Has the Majestic Draght been attacked by something? He activates the two-way radio receiver. The Omniscience, he learns, simultaneously closed all bulkheads between sectors. Now it is impossible for him to reach the security chamber with the emergency switch. And even the way back will be difficult. Does he even have to rejoin the others? Wouldn’t it just be better to stay here and die of exhaustion?
No! The Omniscience must pay, and Gronolf is ready to give his life to make it happen.
Brightnight 37, 3876
He can’t go on. The memories are so painful that they still torture and weaken him, these many cycles later. Right now, he cannot afford that, because he needs to save the sleepers in their chambers. Gronolf has the archive present the rest of the story in text form. The Omniscience had closed all bulkheads in reaction to an attempted rebellion. Triggered by the images of the dead children, the rebels tried to fight the leadership group. Perhaps the Omniscience had planned this all along, or maybe it was just a useful side effect. The internal strife gave it the authority to depose the leadership and take on sole control. The rules included this option in case the leadership no longer could fulfill its function for any reason.
From that moment on, there had been no more ‘accidents’—another fact indicating this had all been part of a greater plan. The Omniscience no longer accepted or followed orders, but it performed its duty and brought the Majestic Draght into an orbit around Single Sun. It sent the complete crew, in several waves, down to the surface of the planet, using the existing shuttles. Then, it went silent.
For the crew, survival on Single Sun turned out to be difficult. The Omniscience was not willing to provide resources from the ship. In fact, it did not even reply to any of their requests. At first, the marooned crew hoped this was only a passing phase. As the years passed, it became obvious they were going to receive no help.
The climate of the planet and its activities did not allow for a permanent colony, which had been the original plan. It turned out to be impossible to synchronize the deposit of eggs on the beach between the frequent flares. This became quite clear when Single Sun killed off the entire brood three times during the first year. The Space Scientists had not realized a red dwarf would emit so much deadly radiation. At first they still hoped for help from their home world. Yet this naive belief soon faded. Why should they send a second capital ship after one which was obviously lost, not reacting to signals? The shuttles which were left on the planet did not have powerful antennas.
After the population had been shrinking year after year, the new leadership decided to send a part of the Grosnops back home, using the shuttles that had landed them on the planet—at least as many as there was room for. As the shuttles were designed for short-range flight, they had to assume that many would fail and that the voyage lasting several generations could only be achieved in hibernation.
For the remaining majority of the Grosnops, the shelter building was constructed—right in the middle of the dark side facing away from the sun. This would protect them from the effects of the flares and save energy in running the cryogenic chambers. In secret they hoped that the home world would send help sometime—at the latest when the first shuttle had arrived. The archive has no information about whether this ever happened. No messages from the home world arrived.
They also kept a communication channel open, just in case the Omniscience on board the Majestic Draght changed its mind. Yet in all the cycles since the completion of the shelter building there had been no interaction—until a few days ago, when a desperate Eve seems to have sent a signal that provoked the Omniscience to react.
Gronolf searches for the syllable ‘Mur’ again, this time in the passenger lists of the shuttles that started their voyage to the home world in 3359. And this time he finds something. Murnaka’s father must have arranged for her to get one of the coveted places. That was so much like him.
After Gronolf’s failure to complete his mission and also his loss of General Murnak’s daughter, he had initially been demo
ted. He never heard from Murnaka again. Yet weeks after the last waves of shuttle landings, a final transport had reached the planet. The identities of those on board were kept a strict secret. One brightnight later he was promoted—surprisingly—to his old rank again.
Gronolf feels it is time to wake the others. For years a wound has been bleeding inside him, sometimes unnoticed, sometimes painfully, which he now has to staunch. It was really an amazing coincidence that the system chose to pull him from his sleeping chamber.
May 10, 19, Eve
Eve spent the night on a beam that was narrower than her upper body. Nevertheless, she slept better than she had in a long time. The beam was padded surprisingly well, and even though she mostly lay on her side, she managed to keep from falling off.
Adam is just coming from the washroom, bare-chested. He seems to be in a good mood. “The basins are great for doing laundry,” he says. “Give it a try.”
Adam is right. Her clothes smell pretty bad, even though she bathed yesterday. She grabs all her things and disappears into the washroom. The smallest basin in the corner is for relieving oneself, that’s what they agreed on. How do the frogs handle this body function? She has not yet found a toilet adapted to the anatomy of the locals. Perhaps it is hidden behind one of the invisible doors. It seems the alien just has to look at one of the doors in order to open it. If she could only talk to him, that would make everything so much easier.
After answering the call of nature Eve walks to the larger basin. She undresses and first washes her clothing, then herself. Unfortunately there is no clothes dryer. Therefore she squeezes everything out as well as she can, hangs the outerwear over a short wall, and puts on the wet underwear. Luckily, it is warm enough not to be uncomfortable.
Eve’s stomach is growling. She hopes Marchenko has created some tasty food overnight. That is the AI’s one skill she probably missed most. No, that would be unjust, she thinks. But some fresh coffee and a crisp roll would be perfect now.
“Good morning, Eve!”
She is startled when Marchenko greets her in the shape of a bipedal robot almost as tall as herself. He must have done a lot of remodeling during the night. He definitely looks better than the piece of scrap he was yesterday, even though this lowers her chance of getting freshly baked rolls.
“Good morning!”
“Did you sleep well, even on that beam?”
“Very well. From now on I will insist on such a contraption.”
“How about breakfast?”
“Gladly,” she says.
Marchenko points at the door leading to the next room. There he used a kind of lectern as a table. There is a cup which actually smells of coffee and a bowl filled with porridge. Next to it she sees a spoon.
“Adam already finished,” Marchenko says. “Unfortunately the porridge is nutritious, but that’s all.”
“Thanks.” Eve nods and lifts the cup of coffee. Even from a close distance the beverage still smells real. She wonders how Marchenko always manages to do that. His nano-fabricators really are a miracle.
“How did you do all this?”
“I borrowed Marchenko 2’s nano-fabricators.”
“Borrowed? Isn’t he dead?” Eve visualizes how she aimed the alien’s weapon at the robot and pulled the trigger. She is to blame for his death, even though she had no choice.
“‘Dead’ is a relative term. He is a machine, like I am, so you might rather say he is broken, defective.”
“And his consciousness?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had time to deal with that. If his memory units are not too fragmented, his consciousness could be repaired. The memory contents will persist even without an energy supply. The data just can’t be changed anymore.”
“So this means he will eternally see this scene in which I fire the weapon at him?”
“That image will remain, yes, but for him time no longer passes. Without energy, the internal clock no longer works.”
“So if we manage to repair him, no time would have passed for him?”
“Yes. Do you want us to repair him?”
Eve notices that Marchenko is giving her a compassionate look. Within one night he has even managed to give his face emotions. That is amazing.
“No, absolutely not. He deserved death,” she says more aggressively than she intended to, and is shocked by the anger in her own voice. “Sorry,” she adds.
“You don’t have to apologize. You had several days of utter despair behind you.”
“That is true.” If she isn’t careful now she will start to cry. She takes a sip. The warm beverage runs down her throat. It tastes like a mixture of coffee and tea. She puts down the cup and reaches for the bowl and the spoon. The porridge has a sweetish smell.
“Carbohydrates and protein,” Marchenko says. “I made them from—”
“That’s okay, I don’t really need to know,” she interrupts him. She dips the spoon into the mass, which has a slimy, sticky consistency. I am sure there will be rolls tomorrow, she thinks, gets over her aversion, and moves the spoon with its contents into her mouth. Without energy from food she won’t survive—Marchenko is better off in that aspect.
“How do you recharge in here?” she asks.
“No problem, the entire building is full of electrical cables. The alien showed me an outlet where I can get 900 volts.”
“Sounds tasty,” Eve says, then laughs.
“Yes, it’s a great feeling, almost like eating ice cream.”
She actually manages to finish the bowl, because she is so hungry.
“Once you are done I would like to invite you to a meeting in the control center,” he says.
“Just a moment, I have to brush my teeth.”
While Eve stands in front of the basin, rinsing her mouth, she can barely believe her luck. A little while ago she was almost dead, and now her everyday routine has returned. Not completely, she remembers. There is still a huge spaceship hurtling towards the planet. Yet she is no longer alone and now she can face the future with more optimism.
May 10, 19, Adam
To the left of him sits a live alien, to the right a dead one. If he’d seen something like this three days ago, he would have soiled his pants out of sheer fright. Today it seems completely normal to him. He even knows the name of the alien—the live one—with whom they are going to have the first meeting of the day.
Everything is quite normal in appearance. The five of them will discuss how they can save this planet, Gronolf’s numerous friends, and ultimately themselves. The fifth one, the dead general, won’t actively participate, but at least he is the perfect warning of what will happen to them if they fail.
“Gronolf,” the alien says. He points to himself.
Adam turns around. Is this a round of introductions?
“Marchenko.”
“Eve.”
“Adam.”
Then the alien repeats their three names. Well, Adam had been worrying it might be tough going. Marchenko told him this morning that he has learned about 500 words in the alien language. That’s probably not enough for complicated plans to save the world. Yet don’t they say that the simplest plans are the best? He would be satisfied with a simple plan.
The alien gets up and walks to the holo-map they already admired yesterday. Gronolf is not wasting any time. He uses the control panel to zoom in on the thing racing toward them. It has a complicated name for which Marchenko could only provide the rough translation ‘Great Youth.’ A species that gives spaceships names like that cannot be evil and has a sense for poetry, Adam thinks.
Gronolf freezes the holographic image and the Great Youth suddenly stops. Then he aims one of his long arms at Marchenko.
“Ro-bot,” he says in English. Robot, right, Marchenko is one, but also more than that. Then the alien points at the spaceship again and says the word again. He repeats his gestures and words twice. The ship is a robot, that much seems to be clear, even if it makes no sense so far.
&nb
sp; “Artificial intelligence,” Marchenko says in English, and points at a small display on his arm.
Gronolf turns so he can see the display well with his front eye. Adam is too far away.
“Let me quickly solve a differential equation,” Marchenko explains.
Something is probably happening on the display. It does not matter what exactly it is or how much Gronolf understands. Marchenko wants to show him his thought process, which is a difficult task. Doesn’t he expect too much from Gronolf?
Adam speaks up. He has a better idea. When the others acknowledge him, he takes a screw from his pocket, shows it to everyone, puts it in his right fist, but also closes his left one. He wiggles his hands a bit and then holds out his fists to Gronolf. The alien realizes what is expected of him and points at the right fist. Adam opens it and shows the screw.
“Thinking,” Adam says, and then points at Marchenko, the thinking machine. Gronolf seems to be very glad about it, because he winks several times with his front eye.
“Artificial intelligence,” Marchenko says again, then points at himself. He repeats the term and now indicates the ship.
Gronolf also points at Marchenko and the ship and tries out the English term. It sounds like, “art-a-fish nn-tel-enzz.”
It looks like the ship is controlled by an artificial intelligence. Is that good or bad news? Gronolf repeats the difficult words, but then he suddenly jumps up and runs from the room. The length of his strides is amazing. How far can he jump? Soon afterward he returns, holding an object in his hand. It is a fragment of the dead Marchenko. Gronolf makes a sound like the firing of his weapon and points at Eve. The alien must have noticed that Marchenko 2 resembles the real one in one aspect: He is also an AI—but a defective one.
Proxima Trilogy: Part 1-3: Hard Science Fiction Page 66