Exiled to the Stars (19 page)

"Can you open it?"

Boyet shook his head. "I don't know where the crew stowed the torch. Some of the boys looked for it, but they couldn't find it. I was wondering if we could open it with a laser."

It was Vlad who nodded. "A construction or mining laser, sure. There's probably one down on the engineering decks; 'course, there'd be a cutting torch down there, too. But up here, all we'd have is a hand laser, and those things just shoot short pulses. It would take a whole pile of power packs."

Cesar sighed. "Well, I'm looking for jobs to occupy idle hands. I'll send a few people down to the engineering decks for a torch or construction laser. We can't just leave those people in there."

Boyet raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? So, what
can
you do with the murdering fanatics?"

Cesar shook his head. "I don't know yet. But I know that leaving women and children sealed into a tomb with decaying bodies and no food is not an option."

Boyet shrugged. "You have a point. Do you want me to send a couple of my guys after a torch?"

Cesar shook his head emphatically. "No. Your people are doing the most important job they could be doing right now. We'll find someone here. In fact, we can have them look for some hand tools, pry bars, and other stuff your guys can use." He nodded, and Vlad returned the nod before heading off to find the volunteers. "But," he continued, "there
is
something else your people can do. I'd like them to check for surviving Council members. We have a million things to do, and I don't have the authority to do them myself. Also, they can ask around for people with outdoor skills. Hunters would be perfect, but we can also use people with military experience, We need some people to patrol outside, to make sure we don't get surprised by a bunch of lions or something."

Boyet grinned. "Pride."

"What?"

"It's a 'pride'. A 'pride' of lions." He nodded. "I understand. I'm a city boy, myself, but I'll ask around.' His grin widened. "HA! I finally got to correct
your
English for a change!"

Cesar's smile was rueful. "That's the second time today. I must be slipping."

Boyet's smile faded. "Naw, man, you're not slipping. You're doing fine!" He saluted and strode off.

Cesar was getting tired. He headed for the mess room in search of a place to sit down.

The chaos that had gripped the messroom had mostly been cleaned up by the time he found an empty table and slumped down. He leaned back against the bulkhead and closed his eyes.

It seemed only a moment before he felt a timid touch at his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find Robert Franks looking at him with an anxious expression. "Are you all right, sire?" the little man inquired.

Cesar straightened. "I'm fine, Robert. What is it?"

Robert looked uncomfortable. But then, he
always
looked uncomfortable around Cesar. For some reason he intimidated the man, though he made every effort to avoid it. This time, though, a ragged sling on his right arm made Robert look even more uncomfortable than usual. "Uh, I'm sorry to disturb you, sire, but the computer would like to talk to you."

"
What!
"

Robert recoiled. "Uh, the computer asked if it could speak with you, sir. It says it has urgent information for you."

Cesar suppressed a smile. "And you don't find that to be unusual behavior for a computer?"

Robert shrugged. "It's a
very
advanced computer, sir." For months, the other teachers had been teasing Robert, accusing him of falling in love with the computer. Of course, it was a common joke to tease someone about falling in love with their avatar, some of which resembled male and female ideals, but Robert treated the computer itself with a respect most reserved for humans. "I've checked it over as much as I can, sir," he continued. "It appears that all the memory and files are intact, but we've lost the VR function." He shrugged. "I rather expected that. Many of those circuits are semiliquid, and the ship rolling over damaged them."

Cesar stopped and looked at Robert. "Can I still talk to it? You said it had a message for me."

Robert flushed and nodded. "Yes, sir. The voice circuits are intact. In fact, the only difference you'll notice is that the images will appear only in 2D, and only on a monitor or tablet."

Cesar shook his head and stood. "All right, Robert. Let's go see what it wants."

Robert's avatar was not one of the glamorous or sexy ones available. Rather, though female, it resembled a stereotypical librarian. A severe bun topped a thin face accented by large horn-rimmed glasses. Cesar couldn't help wondering about Robert's fantasies.

"Good day, sir," the computer said to Cesar. "Would you please press your thumb to the ID panel?" Cesar stifled a shrug and complied.

"Thank you, Messer Montero. I have an urgent message for you, sir. The Captain recorded it just before the crash. May I run it?"

Cesar nodded. "Of course." Cesar rarely interacted with the computer. He told himself that he was too busy, but the truth was that even average computers intimidated him. He
knew
that they weren't really intelligent, but as they had advanced, they seemed to resemble it more and more.

The avatar nodded. "Thank you, sir." The avatar's severe features faded, to be replaced by the harried face of Captain Angelo.

"Messer Montero, if you're seeing this, it means we've crashed and I'm dead. I'm recording this because we will begin our descent to attempt an emergency landing as soon as I have completed this message. We have a 50/50 chance of landing normally. The fact that you're seeing this means we failed.

"The crew and I have decided that the future of the colony is much more important than our personal survival. So, if it looks as though we will crash, we have unanimously decided that we will rotate the ship so that the bridge is the impact point. I cannot know whether that will be enough to permit the colony to survive or not. We can only hope. I have ordered as many technical and scientific people as possible to evacuate to the lower decks, in hopes they will survive.

"At any rate, the main purpose of this message is to inform you that I have transferred my command authority to you. Surviving crewmembers will regard you as their Commanding Officer, until a civilian government is established. You will also have command authority over the computer. I cannot know how many, if any, of the Governing Council will survive, or indeed if
you
will survive. I can only select a single person to bear the responsibility of commanding the computer. I feel I know you well enough to judge that you will not misuse the power of the computer.

"This authorization gives you
complete
control of the computer. You will have access to every file on the computer no matter its classification. You alone can modify its programming, and only you can order it to self-destruct. If you wished to build an antimatter bomb, or a Cobb drive, the computer will teach you how. Among other things, this is why I say the computer makes you the most powerful man aboard the ship, or in the colony. I pray you will use the knowledge wisely.

"It has been an honor to know you, sir, and I have no doubt that I have made the right selection.

"And now, we must begin our descent, if we are to have any chance of succeeding. Good luck to you, sir, and may God have mercy on our souls." The image blacked out abruptly.

Cesar was astounded. Robert Franks was staring at him with an awed expression.

The 'librarian' returned. "Would you like to create an individual avatar now, sir? There are 4,128 avatars available for your selection."

Cesar frowned. "Not at the moment."

"Very well, sir," the librarian replied. "Is this avatar acceptable for present use? If you prefer, I can present as a blank screen."

Cesar was getting irritated. "This avatar is acceptable. Can we get down to business?"

The librarian's face became even more wooden. "Awaiting input, sir."

Cesar rolled his eyes. Oh well, at least it was more computerlike. "Please give me an overview of your present status."

"All sensors and auxilliaries on decks 1 through 4 are inoperable, and it is likely they no longer exist. A few sensors and auxilliaries on deck 5 remain functional, though many are damaged. Nearly all external sensors and antennas are no longer functional. Sensors and auxilliaries on lower decks remain functional except for several mechanical malfunctions requiring repair. Food and supply preparation and delivery systems are non-functional on Deck 5, and require repair on Deck 6."

Cesar started. "Specify repairs necessary to food preparation and delivery system on deck 6!" He noticed Robert struggling to suppress a grin. He could guess why. His formal, old-fashioned manner of addressing the computer. Most people nowadays talked to computers like friends.

"Repairs required for food preparation and delivery system on Deck 6 consist primarily of level one and level two mechanical adjustment." Said the wooden voice.

"Uh, sir," Robert explained. "The repair levels specify the skill levels required to make the repairs. Level one repairs require no skills or experience. That probably means putting back things that got knocked out of place, or something. Level two repairs require someone with basic knowledge of mechanical subjects. Jobs involving bolts, nuts, and wrenches, for instance."

Cesar nodded, relieved. "Thank you, Robert. Computer, can you estimate the time required to complete the repairs?"

"Two Level two personnel under tablet instruction could complete the repairs in approximately one-half hour," the computer replied.

Cesar spun to face Robert, wincing at the twinge of pain in his chest. "Robert, would you see if Tom Abbott survived? If he has, please ask him to come here."

Robert wordlessly ducked his head and hurried out.

Cesar turned back to the computer. "What about the surveillance system?"

"On Decks 1 through 4," the computer replied tonelessly, "the entire system is inoperable, with a 99.6% probability of camera damage. On deck 5, damage is sporadic, with some systems inoperable, some operable but useless due to camera movement, and some 20% operable. On Deck 6, the system is 85% operable, and on decks 7 through 12, functionality is 97%."

"What about Dorm 25?"

"Two cameras in Dorm 25 remain operable. The other two appear to have suffered movement and have displayed no activity since the landing."

Cesar straightened. "Show me dorm 25," he ordered.

The avatar was replaced by a split screen, each half showing a different view of the dorm. Actually, Cesar decided, Dorm 25 seemed to have survived the crash better than any other dorm on Deck 5, though he could see that bulkheads and the deck itself were warped.

Rows of bunks had been torn loose, and as with the other dorms, the ceiling had been bowed downward several feet in its center. People could be seen moving around, some limping. Others simply squatted against the bulkheads. Someone was clearly in charge, though. A line of sheet-covered figures testified to both the death rate and the fact that someone was organizing the effort. A young girl with a bandage around her head squatted by the closed hatch, banging on it with a piece of pipe that had formerly been a bunk frame.

Cesar sat back in relief. "That dorm looks like the least-damaged on the entire deck," he commented.

"It appears so," the toneless voice replied. "Probability is 72% that the damage was limited by the fact that the dorm was single, without a partner, and surrounded by smaller storage spaces. In addition, the hatch was closed and welded into position. This lent significant strength to resist the crushing effect from above."

Cesar smiled sardonically. "So by punishing them with isolation, we probably saved lives."

"A valid assumption," the computer agreed.

"Can I talk to them?"

"The public address system appears functional in Dorm 25, and of course, if you can give me a name, I may be able to connect you with that person's tablet."

Cesar shook his head. "I don't have a name. Let's try the PA system."

There was a click, and a red light appeared on the microphone on the teacher's desk. "Attention, Dorm 25 residents," he began self-consciously. "Your attention, please."

On the screen, everyone stopped, many looking around for the source of the voice. Obviously, the PA system was working.

"This is Cesar Montero," he began. "As you know, we've crash-landed. We have quite a lot of damage, and a large number of casualties. We have been unable to locate the welding equipment the crew used on your hatch, but I have sent people to the lower decks for welding or laser equipment to unseal your hatch."

A husky woman pushed her way through the crowd and stopped, looking toward one of the cameras. She was in late middle age, with streaks of gray beginning to appear in her shiny black hair. She stood, hands on hips, feet apart, her body language proclaiming a challenge. Surprisingly, she was NorAm, not Egyptian.

"Well!" she said loudly, "It took a crash to do it, but somebody's finally talking to us again! I'm Helen Shourd, by the way."

Cesar was irritated. "The last time somebody 'talked' to you, you killed them!"

She shook her head. "No, the
last
time was when you stole our kids!" she replied stridently. Suddenly her shoulders fell, and her aggressive manner faded. "Sorry. As you can imagine, we're a bit on edge. Until you called, we were hoping we weren't the only people left." She shook her head. "Is there a better way for us to talk than this PA-and-shouting match?"

Cesar nodded before realizing she couldn't see him. "Maybe. I'm using the computer to access the PA system, and it tells me it
might
be able to connect me to your tablet."

Helen Shourd turned around and grabbed a young girl. In a low voice, she talked for a moment, and the girl nodded and ran off. Helen Shourd returned her attention to the camera. "She's gone to get my tablet. Let's give it a try, by all means!"

Cesar turned his attention back to the computer. "Can you contact her tablet?"

"Helen Shourd is on the 'Restricted' list," the computer replied. "Access will require your thumbprint on the pad to assume Administrator status."