Kingdoms Away 1: Jorian Cluster Archives (2 page)

When it was discovered that attite
technology, or AT as some called it, would be passed down to their
descendants, many came to the realization that there was no turning
back. As the children grew it was found that the attites integrated
far more successfully into them than those that had been
inoculated. This added justification that destroying the test
subjects, those who decided to return to their villages, had been
the best option. The last thing they wanted to do was create a
super-human who would take over the Earth or suffer for well beyond
their normal mortality. Only one mechanical engineer suggested that
they might improve Earth and, after a second’s silence, everyone
had burst out laughing. Red-faced, the mechy held up his hands,
surrendering to the majority. Actually, Al mused, the “suffer”
consideration was only a fourth consideration. In truth, they were
leaving and they really didn’t care what happened to Earth or
humans. They had all supported that vote and went to enjoy a lovely
reception afterwards.

Al accessed files to check on the last
animals who had bred. They had the same results as humans. Attites
were a part of the DNA codes and written in right from the start.
Neural scientists found neuron and nerve fibers were far more
sensitive to the mental commands of children, and young animals. No
programming of the attites was required; all the information had
been passed down genetically, from the parents to the fetus. During
pregnancy, and then later throughout the growth of the child, extra
vitamins and minerals had to be ingested to ensure the successful
multiplication of attites.

With every new step and success, they grew
closer to achieving their goals. The world around continued in its
ignorance and ebbed away to its rhythmic ruin. Of course, they
still kept tabs on what was occurring, as ignorance would be akin
to suicide. There was never anything new, just the same old pattern
of mismanagement. Al was satisfied all was in order and checked the
hacked files Chen sent him. Mostly they were of areas Al couldn’t
get into but Chen could. So far no animals from his collection were
used for experiments. He called his animals the “rocketeers”
because saying “ark animals” was too close to religious teachings
and certainly he and the others weren’t being noble.

Al clicked around his screen closing files
and prepared to switch his system across again. Even with the
personality clashes they were united in one thing: he and the
others were sick of the games played by governments all around the
world. Of course they understood that without superior authorities
all would fall into bedlam and that some sort of order had to be
established. So they applied this knowledge and elected a group of
all-rounders, whom they named The Tunuen Coalition. As a leading
anthropologist computer geek Chen was invited but Al wasn’t. It
didn’t matter; Chen reported the goings on anyway so Al could focus
on his job. He trusted Chen.

Their base had increased in size over time in
the vast area South East of Bogotà. The region was perfect. The
climate was warm with rain but not overly humid. The area was
sparsely populated; in fact, they were the only ones within miles.
Chen had been visiting a large village of densely packed huts when
he was captured by some drug dealers. Al had seen and strolled over
casually on the dirt road, and stood staring until the four large
tattooed men backed away.

“What’s with them?” Al asked, casually noting
people disappearing into their little huts.

Chen scratched his head and then laughed. “I
think it’s that fucking alligator next to you.”

Al glanced down at the gator on a leash
looking like a log with teeth. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about him. He
missed lunch.”

Chen backed away, his almond eyes wary but
amused. “Well, don’t look at me.” He smiled then, shaking his head.
“You and your animals.”

Since then he and Chen had been best
buds.

The Coalition only had to deal with the
rampant underground organizations to obtain their supplies. They
were producing superior, illegal plants for recreational or
business use, and the money they acquired via secret visits to
these organizations procured the necessities, provided protection
and maintained concealment. After Chen’s colorful tales of “Al and
the gator” he developed a reputation and not just inside the
installation. Villages spread the word too and that’s when he
became, “The Gator Man”.

One morning Al woke and smiled, looking across at
his calendar. The final day. They tied up loose ends. They blocked
out externals by cutting off all communications as they busied
themselves with final preparations. Al packed up his things, with
Charles padding along behind with a chew toy in his mouth. It was a
green gator made by Chen’s boyfriend. Guards smiled and nodded to
them as they made their last trip into the Tun on the fifteenth
deck. He walked along the strange passage that was actually an
access tube, used a ladder that could become a wall depending on
which way was the right way up. He entered his small cabin where
everything was sealed into cupboards that could and would pivot. He
packed up the rest of his things, and closed the last hatch.
Peering down, he saw Charles sitting and waiting for him in the
tube entrance. Charles had to be placed with the other animals, in
deep sleep in special chambers. Most of the species were in special
embryo tubing, ribbons and ribbons for each species kept in four
different locations. But Al had been given permission to wake a
number of creatures as prescribed by the psychologist on board.
“We’ll need the companionship.” She’d looked at Al with a twinkle
in her eye. “Not the gator.”

“Yes, ma’am.” A few laughed but most gave him
a worried look, knowing his sense of humor too well. On the final
day he patted Charles on the head, running his fingers through the
thick fur. The wet nose sniffed and Charles’s head dropped
sleepily. Al played with his paw for a moment smiling at the short
legs. Bush dogs were funny-looking things but Al loved him. He
sealed the chamber. He seemed to being doing that a lot lately, and
checked the instruments ensuring Charles was moving into deep
sleep, and then hibernation, then freeze. In the tests even in that
state the attites were still active, responding to the animal’s
automatic systems. They truly were amazing.

“All done?”

Al nodded. “Charles and all animals are in
deep freeze, Chen. I’m on my way to E deck. You?”

“Just came to pick you up, we have sleep
chambers side by side.”

Al laughed. “How romantic. Hope Simon
understands.”

“I’m a sentimental fool, Al. Simon’s on my
other side.”

They chatted on the way up and across, seeing
the teams already in place to help them prepare. The room was
clinical almost if you ignored the grey walls, floor and ceiling.
Tubes hung from the ceiling, connecting to rows of white chambers.
It was times like this Al understood why people didn’t respond well
to him. He balked at being told what to do even when he knew he had
to do it. And now? He and Chen were merely subjects to be bossed
around, poked and prodded, drugged, and told to be still. He saw
Chen’s hand waving before he was firmly told off by his team. His
own team didn’t give him a chance to even respond and pushed down
his freckled hand. Simon was already asleep with the chamber lid
sliding across. Lights were madly blinking off and on, with data
streaming across a small monitor on the side of his chamber.

Finally, tucked in without the bedtime story,
Al drifted. Hating the forced sleep, he ran through the checks. All
links to their base had been eradicated. A hundred thousand tons
would lift from the surface. The Tun would rise into the sky and
out to space. Back on Earth the detonation sequence would begin
thirty minutes after their takeoff. He could watch the explosion
after, because it would be monitored, and it had been estimated
that a six-hundred-meter crater in diameter would be left. They had
bets on the exact size. At this point of the journey discretion and
all secrecy were discarded … his eyes finally closed …

… when he opened his eyes, the same bossy
team were telling him to get out and get dressed. God knows … ah,
ah, no religious expletives! Charlie knows what they did to them
while they slept.

“Mess duty, Dr. Reos.”

Someone shoved a tablet into his cold hands.
He rubbed his eyes and was told off. Grumbling a little but happy
to have woken up, Al hastily obeyed and headed out to the kitchen.
The Tun appeared to be the right way up now, inside at least and,
from the monitors he checked on the way, they had docked and
connected to the Tunuen. When he arrived the cook yelled at him.
“You’re late, get over there and do those dishes.”

Al didn’t bother responding. The dishwashing
plant guy had to serve meals, while the server medic had to cook,
which had been the zoologist’s job, his job, but Al considered it a
fair deal. He’d taken a little side trip to check his animals.
After what seemed like hours of washing dishes, Al gladly finished
and headed down to his real job. The hatch opened to reveal a
series of offices to the left and right, then labs, and then the
pens. He stood on one of the walkways glancing up and down the
central oval tube. Most animals were in their chambers arcing
around the tube. The animated animals were close to his current
central position. Faster access for his teams to reach them that
way. He was three hours in with checking the more sensitive species
when an announcement was made to activate attite armor.

“Last call—” the voice boomed over the
intercom “—activate ATA.”

He and his team had studied the penned
animals since they couldn’t be told to activate their protection.
When forces were felt in the simulation tubes, the monitored
species displayed results that the armor came on automatically at
different times for different species. It depended on their natural
ability to withstand acceleration. At a certain stress level for
each animal the armor would simply activate. Instinct. As humans,
they were trying to perfect and adapt that wonderful animal
advantage. His main project would be enhancing humans to “drive”
differently.

He walked down to the central floor again and
headed for the domesticated animals, taking an open-style lift.
Power was restricted so it was mostly dark, or dimly lit, in the
passages of frozen species. They had to ensure their domesticated
beasts received enough UV though. Al stepped off and entered
another, but more brightly lit, passage to a hatch that opened to a
white paneled corridor that led to the pens. He breathed in the hay
and enjoyed the familiar sounds of their farm animals. A pipe
rattled quietly above his head but it told him the water was
flowing. He walked through an open hatch and to one of the stalls.
Basically, this section looked like a barn. A very clean barn.

“So, Dr. Reos. What duties did you get?”
Samantha asked, pulling out a thermometer from a cow’s arse.

Mooooo.

“Cook and plumber but I missed my shift so
had to wash dishes.”

“Shit. If they are giving our own brilliant
zoologist and chronologist a cook and plumbing job, I wonder what
they’re giving me?”

He patted a cow fondly on the head. “Maybe
you are in the nurse’s station checking temperatures but it looks
like plumbing to me.”

Sam laughed and then looked at her device,
sighing.

“I have to go, Sam. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah, the cows seem content enough but time
will tell if they produce milk while on the journey.”

Chickens clucked nearby.

“At least the super-mass rods are working
fine.”

Sam rolled her eyes, the whites around the
blue still a little bloodshot. Her brown hair was a little unkempt
from cleaning out the stalls already. “No one would be happy with
zero-g the whole way.”

“The stockpile reaping around the moon went
smoothly then, I take it?” Sam’s partner was one of the hilarious
geologists. They would have been too heavy to take off from Earth,
so the moon held supplies of Super-Mass in its orbit. Most of the
adult animals had been put in suspended animation and sent up in
two by two shuttles over the years until the director put a stop to
that. Some people sucked the fun out of everything. It was the
mathematicians that suggested working with square roots instead.
The director never caught on.

She shrugged. “Must have. Not that they’d
tell us anything but—” she glanced around, “—I heard it was all
pretty standard. You know what they’re like. If they aren’t joking,
then there’s a problem and my honey bunny was pretty much bursting
with all the uber bad anecdotes.”

He grinned. “Thanks. That’s reassuring.”

“Where are you next? I didn’t check the
schedules yet; just came straight here to make sure our babies were
okay.”

That’s why he made sure Sam was on his team;
she was just like him. “Time’s a ticking.”

“Ah, chrono meeting. Have a good time.”

“Ha ha.” He left her, seeing her cheesy grin,
but raised his voice as he walked away. “Who else is around?”

“Everyone.”

He glanced behind him with a smile. His team
had their priorities straight. Animals first. Time second.

For the sake of simplicity, they had
maintained the same chronological time in space to match that of
Earth. He heard a bark and saw his bush dog bounding up, his tongue
hanging out the side of his mouth. “Charles!” He bent down, taking
his dog in his arms. He heard Sam laughing behind him. “Thanks,
Sam!”

“You’re welcome.”

Three years after take-off they began a dangerous
part of the journey, as they headed for a distant planet. It had
been discovered by a Professor of Astronomy during one of the
searches for a new home. A number of reconnaissance missions had
been made over the last few years, testing the path to freedom.
They set course and prepared for a long sleep. Moments before the
first person was placed in suspended animation they were struck by
a brilliant flash of white. They all collapsed.