“The cult didn’t even control their planet, which was some meaningless
asset under Overlord Six. If Six ignored the situation, it might go away—remember this was
happening during the war. I think the League washed their hands of the isolationists.”
“What if a
male
in the cult couldn’t produce
sons?”
“By definition, that couldn’t happen. Until, that is, the Minoan
attack.” David Ray chuckled dryly. “The Minoans couldn’t have created a better punishment for
men whose lives were measured by the number of their sons. For a while, they wouldn’t even
believe they were sterile. They rejected the studies done by the relief medics, at least
initially. Idiots.”
“Idiots with weapons, who now control the
Pilgrimage
,” Matt pointed out. “Who have realized, quite rightly, that they
don’t have to do anything but
wait
for us to die.”
“Well, they won’t reward us for coming back; I figure we’ll be dead as
soon as we open the airlock. So, let’s run the checklists.” David Ray shook his head and
appeared attentive, but with obvious effort. “I assume you’re finished with inventory. What’s
our situation?”
“We have a week of life support, looking at air reserve tanks, water,
and power. I’ve got the collectors oriented toward the sun and the batteries are working
correctly, but after we use up the air in the reserve tanks, battery power won’t be able to
create oxygen as well as maintain other life-support functions. We’ll go downhill, either by
freezing or oxygen deprivation. Unluckily for us, it won’t happen fast enough to be
painless.”
“Sounds about right,” David Ray said. “Module-operating mode was never
intended for long-term life support. What other resources have we got?”
“We’ve got the emergency med kit, which can mend bones and minor wounds,
but surgery is out. It’s got a good amount of pain medication. We have insulated survival gear
and two-hour oxygen masks for four people, but nothing for EVA. We’ve got three days’ emergency
rations, plus about fifty snack packs intended for donors. We’ve also got the best equipped bar
in the entire system, with a wide selection of Terran brandies, Hellas-made scotch, smooth, and
more than a thousand pornographic v-plays and videos. That leads me to the”—Matt scratched his
head and didn’t know whether to laugh or curse—“two freezers, each containing about four
hundred samples of sperm.”
“You forgot the useless lawyer with one leg.”
Matt shook his head. “Those freezer units suck battery power. If I shut
them off—”
“You can’t do that. Those samples are our future generations.” David Ray
leaned forward, causing himself to move his wounded leg and wince.
“Your eggs are stored elsewhere, and this isn’t the entire Pilgrimage
sperm bank.”
“The freezers will be in sunlight, no matter how we orient the solar
collectors. Without power, they’ll fry,” David Ray said. “And that’s enough sperm to account
for one third of Pilgrimage genetic diversity, and you know how necessary that is. Absorbing
such a loss would be tough for our entire line. Anyway, you said the batteries can’t maintain
oxygen creation once we use up the reserve tanks.”
“But if we shut the freezers down now, it could mean a few more hours at
the end of our week.”
“No.” David Ray shut his eyes, finality in his tone.
Matt stared at the wounded man, wondering whether he’d stepped over the
line of sanity.
David Ray opened his eyes. “We can’t worry about a few hours here and
there. We have to start figuring out what these isolationists want, particularly from the
Pilgrimage
.”
“What does it matter? They’re making demands right now to CAW or TerraXL
or Pilgrimage HQ, perhaps ransoming the ship for money. Maybe they want a planet of their own.”
Matt pushed and floated in the low gee to the other side of the module. He called up the
environmental display, just checking, to quiet his nerves. “Really, David Ray, you’re going to
lose the samples eventually.”
“Let’s table that subject for right now. Please. Can we see what’s
happening with the ship?”
Matt sighed, but didn’t pursue the topic any more. “We have limited
cam-eye feeds and nothing more. We can maneuver so we can view the ship. Remember, however,
that the maneuvering jets use our air.”
They both looked at the
Pilgrimage III
,
which filled the display. It was still huge and beautiful, but no longer a comforting haven.
Matt felt pain in his chest as he thought of it held hostage, and the crew abused, by the man
whose voice was cold and heartless.
If I could only help them
. His
jaw clenched and he balled up his fists at his helplessness.
“Let’s talk about the proverbial elephant in the room. We have to get
these flechettes out of my leg.” David Ray sounded tired.
“I told you we don’t have surgery support.”
“We’ll have to do it ourselves. Or rather, you’ll have to do it
manually
, if you prefer that term.” David Ray smiled weakly when
Matt turned around to look at him. “You said there’s lots of liquor and meds.”
Matt swallowed, trying to loosen his throat.
CHAPTER 10
Most ComNet users use natural language interfaces to query AI models,
providing loose specifications as well as limiting themselves to indexed information. There
are ways to have Democritus models, in particular, explore unindexed material. This becomes
necessary as the amount of garbage grows exponentially and masquerades as data.
—
Unindexed Searches under Democritus
Rulesets
,
AFCAW Captain Doreen Floros, 2103.022.08.09 UT,
indexed by
Democritus 21
under
Cause and Effect Imperative
T
ahir caught up with Abram in a corridor on
the
Pilgrimage
and started the conversation on a pretext,
expressing concern about the container used for their package, a container that had to shield
the exotic material.
“I was assured that it would be good for several years. It’s supposed to
have the best shielding,” Abram said, gesturing for Tahir to follow him.
They entered a small room that Tahir had never seen, not surprisingly
because the generational ship was huge. The only reason Abram could maintain control over such
a large ship and crew was that the crèche-get were easily cowed. Of course, they were still in
shock and they’d never entertained this security nightmare: someone wresting a controlled buoy
away from them. Who would have thought of doing that?
Abram. And Qesan, before him. Tahir watched his father call up a
display, which looked like a report from Dr. Lee, and read. He looked pleased as he fingered
the collar of his coveralls.
Tahir glanced at his father’s moving fingers, and his gaze froze on
something that peeked out under the collar. Was that a body-armor vest? His lip twitched as he
pictured Abram’s bravado in the face of shrapnel, inspiring his men with his lack of
fear.
“Back to our precious cargo. You were saying?” Abram turned quickly to
face him, and he glanced away.
“Right. The shielding. It’s holding up well, according to our
measurements,” Tahir said. “But the shielding is expended as it’s exposed to the exotic matter,
so I have to know its original quality and density. I can’t believe we could afford shielding
that’s rated for more than six months.”
Abram’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry. I paid well for that shielding and
it’ll last long enough.”
“There’re not many places that’ll sell shielding for exotic matter,
without asking questions.”
“What’s your point?” Abram seemed to be losing interest in the
conversation.
“How did we afford all this, and where could you procure items such as
exotic shielding and cases of flechette weapons?” Tahir asked. His heart was pounding.
“You heard the geneticist. We received quite a bit of emergency aid, and
we invested it well.” Abram shrugged as he closed the report. “I’m not going to apologize for
withholding information from you, considering that I had to keep you focused on your
studies.”
You can’t fool me twice, Father. I’m not like
Emery
. He chose his next words with care; he was walking a fine line here. “Since I’ve
lived on the outside, I have a good idea of what this equipment can cost.”
“You think we had funding from other sources? You’re right. Are you
insinuating that we might have paid more than we should? Perhaps, but what does it matter? We
have no further need of accountants or buyers.”
Tahir’s heart skipped. Someone else had helped fund him, and now that
someone had a say in Abram’s plans. More than Tahir did, or ever could. After Lee’s comments,
he’d tried to do an honest assessment, for the first time, of what the past two decades had
cost his people. Qesan’s Cause turned out to be frightfully expensive, his own education merely
a drop in the bucket. Yet he allowed Abram to use it against him, to twist him with guilt. He
let Abram manipulate him, because he didn’t want to know the truth.
“What will you need—in the future?” Tahir stammered as his mind raced.
“I’d like to do something useful for the Cause.”
“You want more responsibility? A leadership role, perhaps?” Abram
watched him with flat eyes.
“Yes. I can handle it.”
Watch out, I can’t look too
eager.
“You must
earn
it, like Rand or Emery. Tell
me, why are we doing this?”
Tahir was stunned speechless as he tried to control his anger. This was
more hypocrisy, saying he should earn it! He’d spent years, studying, and eventually worming
his way into a defense contractor job. What had Emery done during all this time?
His father’s gaze chilled his budding rage, so he bent his head and
recited, “‘We do this to bloody the hand of oppression.’”
“Good. We’ll see if you have any use in our new world. Now get ready to
board the
Father’s Wrath
.” Abram dismissed him.
Tahir left, seething quietly, although he had to place much of the blame
on himself. He’d had his doubts before, but his guilt and fear of his father had kept him
in-line. Now he knew Abram could be
bought
, just like any common
criminal. He had to escape this hell, while he could.
Whenever their investigation dug up more facts, the nightmare continued
to grow. What disturbed Lieutenant Oleander most wasn’t
her
notion
of the problem, but the fear that emanated from the other officers, much as they tried to hide
it.
“This is bad,” Major Bernard said, initiating a whispered conference
during a break.
“Surely there’s no way the criminals could detonate a stolen package,
even if it’s the functional part of the weapon.” She kept her voice as low as she could.
They were standing outside the cleared conference room and Bernard bent
his head sideways to hear her. He shook his head in response to her question, leaving her
frustrated and obviously
not
in the loop. She knew the line of
execution approval for AFCAW: It required presidential, vice presidential, and tripartisan
senatorial approval. After that, authorization traveled into military authority through a
tangled web of special access and down the chain of command. Without those authorization codes,
the criminals simply had a chunk of toxic components—and that’s
if
they could dismantle the package, since it should have antitamper protection.
“Sirs, please come back into the shielded room for updates,” said one of
Hauser’s aides. He was a nonuniformed young man who, according to Major Bernard, was
TEBI.
They filed back in, having grown to a task force of fifteen Autonomist
and Terran personnel, both civilian and military. Once the doors closed, their agenda displayed
on one wall and Oleander noticed that the “Hazardous materials threat” bullet kept sinking
lower and lower. Nobody seemed to be worried about the exotic material leaking.
“We’ve got reports on the civilian weapon-transfer team. These three men
performed the final inventory: two long-term employees, plus one man who was in training at the
time. They all had clearance, although the one in training had only interim clearance.” The
aide pointed to the wall and displayed three faces.
“Dr. Russell-Li and Mr. Nielson were responsible for the inventory and
Dr. Rouxe was an observer-in-training. Russell-Li supposedly signed the inspection for warhead
WM15-894.”
It was silent in the room and Oleander’s ears hurt from the strain of
listening. She looked at the three Terran faces. None were out of the ordinary, and Rouxe
seemed youngest, but appearances were meaningless.
“Dr. Russell-Li died in an accident a month after he signed the
inventory, while both Mr. Nielson and Dr. Rouxe were laid off during defense contractor
changes.”
Murmurs rose about the room, but Edones cut through with a question.
“Were the circumstances of Russell-Li’s accident suspicious?”