The Horicon Experience (17 page)

After lunch, Professor Angle had his students gather again in the lab.

“Now that we have the lab computer up and running, I want us to interface it with the test consoles in the Horicon lab.”

He handed an instruction sheet to Cornelius Wed, the student nearest the console. Wed took the page and entered the data into the lab computer. A moment later, the monitor displayed that the connection was complete.

“Let’s get suited up and go in there.”

The students followed Angle to the locker room. Within a few minutes, they were on their way down the hall and beginning the process of cycling themselves through the decontamination airlock.

After they all entered the room and had gathered their notepads, Professor Angle addressed them. “Today I want you to completely the exterior of the Horicon,” he said. “I want each of you to make complete individual inspections, and I want you to make sketches of all controls and their labels. Be sure to include the translations as well.”

He paused for a moment and then added, “I know that we’re all flush with the success of this morning. However, I want you to resist the temptation to operate any controls. Am I understood?”

The students murmured their agreement.

“All right, get with it,” he said with a clap of his gloved hands.

The students spread out and soon surrounded the ancient machine. They said very little while they performed their individual exterior inspections and sketched their diagrams and made notes. Sometime later, just as Delmar was finishing his sketch of the main console, Stan came up to him. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” Delmar said. “But I’m having trouble getting the translations correct.”

“Let me see.” He reached for Delmar’s notepad and set both his notes and Delmar’s on a nearby console top, examining them both, comparing pages.

“Here’s your problem,” he said, pointing out a transposition of characters on the key Delmar had copied in class. “If you switch these two vaiables, the rest should fall into place.” Delmar examined the mistake.

“Thanks,” he said as he corrected his errors. “Mind if I borrow your copy to double-check mine?”

“Not at all,” Stan said.

While Delmar worked on his corrections, Stan stepped back where he could take in the sight of the ancient computer. Professor Angle joined him.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” he commented to the young trooper.

“Sure is,” Stan agreed with a smile. The professor glanced down at his wrist chronometer.

“Let’s wrap it up!” Professor Angle shouted. “I want to get home at a decent hour so I can enjoy a hot dinner with my wife.”

The students chuckled and started gathering their notes and sketches. They weren’t even aware the professor was married. Stan returned to the console where Delmar showed him his reworking of the key and the translations. Stan nodded his approval and was about to comment when the professor interrupted him.

“Mr. Shane? I’d like for you to take the first group through.”

“No problem,” Stan replied as he went over to the airlock to begin the cycling sequence. Several students put their materials into the small airlock and pressed the cycle buttons. While it was running, they joined Stan in the chamber. A few minutes later the lights over the door in the Horicon lab signaled that the lock was clear.

“All right people, let’s go,” the professor admonished. “You too, Mr. Eagleman,” he added with a slight hint of impatience.

“Coming, sir!” Delmar replied and hurried to the airlock.

The professor and the remaining students entered the chamber and the professor cycled them through. As they exited, Delmar suddenly realized he’d left his notes laying on top of the console back in the Horicon clean room. Deciding that causing the professor to wait while he retrieved them would not be a good idea, he went about stripping off his protective clothing instead.
They’ll be there tomorrow
, he thought, trying to hurry. Besides, there was no assignment tonight where he would need them.

Their clean suits serviced, the jubilant students quickly headed for the exit and the freedom their hard work had earned them, a smiling professor following in their wake.

∞∞∞

Pushing back from the cafeteria table, Delmar contemplated what to do with his unexpected free time.

“What are you going to do this evening?” he asked Stan, fishing for ideas of his own.

“Oh, I thought I might go over to the gym,” Stan answered noncommittally as he finished his meal. “I saw in a bulletin that the Fencing Club is meeting tonight and I thought I might check them out.”

They had heard about the institute’s fencing club only the previous week. Both troopers had already learned the fundamentals of the sport in basic where it was a mandatory part of their training. Although blasters were effective against the enemy, they also tended to do serious, if not irreparable damage to the hull of the ship behind your target. Swords had proven to be an excellent solution to this problem. All service personnel were required to have at least minimal proficiency with the weapon.

“You don’t want to come along?” Stan asked as he pushed back from the table. “It’ll get the kinks out.”

“No thanks,” Delmar answered. He came to a decision. “I’d rather enjoy some quiet time back at the dorm.”

“Suit yourself.” Stan said, getting up. Ambling toward the door, he stopped to pocket a few mints at the condiment bar and then he was gone. Delmar sat there alone for a moment and then finally got up and headed to the dorm.

Instead of waiting for the lift, Delmar bounded up the stairs, an unexpected excitement slowly starting to develop. By the time he changed out of his utility uniform and into casual clothes, he was almost euphoric. Their success in class today had lifted a weight off of his shoulders, making him nearly giddy.

Turning on his computer, Delmar reflected that the last several weeks had been rugged, blotting out virtually everything else. Eagerly opening his starmail account, Delmar found the delightful surprise of a letter from home. A sense of guilt and homesickness swept over him.

From: HasselFarm>gss.bv.er

To: Deagle>gss.mcti.mi

Subject: are you alive?

Are you still alive? We haven’t heard from you for almost four weeks. We hope everything is going well and that you’re just busy.

Life here on the farm continues at its usual pace. Dad got the spring planting done with the help of Daren. When they finished the west field, Dad gave Daren a hand with a well problem. It seems that the foot valve malfunctioned and it took them two days to pull the pipe up and correct the problem. RoseMary and the baby came up and filled jugs from our well so they could have drinking water. I suspected that all they wanted was to use our bathing facilities as well, but she was too embarrassed to ask. I offered to give little Del-Robert a bath in the sink and suggested that RoseMary help herself to the tub before the men got back. I didn’t have to suggest it twice. I’d just finished with the baby when she reappeared looking fresh and clean. About then the men arrived and I shooed them upstairs to clean up while RoseMary and I put on supper.

Oh, look at me. I’m just blathering on about nothing. It sure got lonesome around here after you boys left for school. It’s just hard to believe that it has already been almost six months!

Well, take care and write when you can. I know Dad loves your letters just as much as I do. Everyone sends their greetings.

Love, Mom

Delmar sat silent for a minute thinking about home. Chagrined that he had been remiss on correspondence, he keyed the reply button on the starmail from home. Making himself comfortable in his desk chair, he set to work writing the long overdue letter.

∞∞∞

The bipedal creatures had been gone for quite a while when the unit powered up its exterior optical sensors. Quickly scanning the room for organic life, it discovered itself to be alone. It had recorded considerable audio data while the large group had been present and surmised that they had been active.

First, it surveyed the foreign consoles the creatures had brought in several time-cycles ago. None of the controls had been touched, although it did note green indicator lights on one panel.

Next, it surveyed its own consoles and discovered that one creature had left written material exposed on top. It carefully magnified the image until it was able to make out the crude drawings. A quick check of its own files turned up similar but more precise diagrams.

Comparing the two images, the unit concluded that the crude sketch was of its own main console. On both images were the original labels for the controls. The crude drawing also had penciled-in translations of the original labels. The unit recorded these images and started to create cross-references between the two languages.

While it set a sub-routine to complete that task, it continued its survey of the notes. On the adjoining page was a list of words copied from its many controls and panels. Alongside each word was the translation in the written language of the bipedal creatures. The unit quickly assimilated this find into the sub-routine it was already running. Working at millions of functions per second, it began to build a translation glossary
.

Chapter Twelve

The morning air was crisp and clear, allowing the hikers an unobstructed view of the dawn colors from the rocky ridge. The five young people had been making the final climb from their last campsite in the pre-dawn darkness and arrived at the top only minutes earlier. As the sun’s disk crept over the edge of the mountains, a collective gasp escaped from the lips of the small group.

“Didn’t I tell you this would be worth it?” Stan whispered to Delmar.

Although excited at the sight, Delmar had a difficult time suppressing a yawn. Two of the other three young men looked at him in annoyance. Delmar put on his best innocent expression and then jabbed Stan in the ribs when the others weren’t looking. The group of young men continued to watch the morning brilliance morph through the full spectrum of colors. Finally, the light show gave way to the even yellow that was normal for the primary star of Mica.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m starved!” one of the group said as he turned from the scenic panorama.

“I second that,” Delmar added. His stomach growled to confirm his hunger. The rest nodded their agreement and began to retrace their steps back down the slope.

Finding an alcove just down from the summit, the group set up a small camp to cook breakfast. Protected from the breeze that had arisen shortly after sunrise, they were still able to feel the full warmth of the morning sunlight. While one of the hikers tended the small camp stove, heating up a pan of cornbread and a pot of coffee, the rest stretched out on surrounding rocks and let the solar warmth loosen up muscles made stiff by the climb.

They had been out hiking for three days now and it had proven a refreshing change from their studies at the institute. For the first time in weeks, Delmar was able to close his eyes without seeing the image of the ancient Horicon computer. The mid-term break had come at just the right time to keep many of them from burning out from the intensity of their studies. Professor Angle insisted they leave campus to both rest and exercise their tired minds and bodies. Top among his suggestions of rest was the five-day hike their group was taking.

By general agreement, they refrained from talking about school or computers. At first, this greatly hampered their conversation, but by the third day, they discovered other mutual interests. Foremost among these was the subject of girls.

Two of the young men had regular girlfriends and they regaled the others with descriptions of their charms. Delmar chuckled to himself as he noted that the two young women took on more the descriptions and characteristics of goddesses than that of mortal humans. He was pleased that both men showed good taste and refrained from describing in too great of detail the physical and romantic attributes of their girlfriends.

Delmar also watched Stan’s reaction to these discussions and noticed that some of the anguish from losing his fiancé in a shuttle accident had diminished from his eyes. He knew about Jake’s visit and the letters Stan now received regularly from Sherry Sender. Delmar made a mental note to drop the Senders a line to let them know the effect they were having on his friend.

Presently, their discussion turned to Galactic Axia politics. The conversation grew intense while they ate their cornbread.

“I think the independent planets are just sitting there like ripe fruit waiting for the Axia to pick them off,” Darius Dugger, a student of solar topography declared.

Darius was tall, well over six feet, almost seven, and monorail thin with dark hair and inquisitive eyes. He was the top student in his class, and his qualification scores for entry into the institute rated him a step or two above genius. Delmar suspected the man was looking for a debate and he certainly wasn’t prepared to go toe-to-toe with the tall man.

“What makes you think they will?” Tooskas Orlanski asked. “They’ve had plenty of opportunity and never forced anyone to join.”

Tooskas was from a planet deep within Orion’s belt. He enjoyed telling people that he lived on a belt buckle. “My home planet is independent, and they’ve never bothered us.”

“That doesn’t mean they won’t in the future,” Darius said. “All it needs is to get some egomaniac as emperor and the whole game is over. Those troopers of theirs could wipe out anybody.” The young men nervously glanced over at Stan and Delmar.

“Just speaking from the trooper point of view, that would be nearly impossible,” Stan ventured. “If a monarch did go on a power kick, the troopers themselves would stand up against it.”

“You troopers are sworn to follow the emperor, no matter what,” replied Dugger.

“Not exactly,” Delmar said as he weighed in to the conversation. “We’re sworn to follow the emperor, or empress as the case may be, but also to deal with him or her in an honest manner. If the ruler’s dictates work against keeping the faith of the Axia, I don’t know a trooper who wouldn’t stand up to the madness.”