MotherShip (10 page)

That, along with the result of years of searching among these decimated worlds, the probability of finding survivors had dropped to a mere possibility—perhaps even less than that. The T'kaan were terribly efficient, and what life they didn't destroy in their never-ending war, their maggot young devoured—except for plant life.

But how could she tell the children the one, terrible truth?

Would it damage them emotionally? Permanently? Beyond repair? Could they handle the truth?

Mother could not answer the dilemma.

Their search continued as the months passed by. But all they found were more devastated worlds of the former human empire, every living thing dead upon them except for the voracious maggot young of the T'kaan as they slithered along in their endless hunt for food.

“Never have we seen her kind, puzzles us to guess her mind.”

The chant began in the T'kaan flagship that protected the Great Horned ship. Down through the dark corridors and into the large rooms it spread, even to the great Bridge itself filled with the flowing folds of black dragnets.

The T'kaan had never known an enemy that could evade their ships. They had never known an enemy that could defeat their every attack. But most shocking of all, this enemy was a warship—a warship made alive with sophisticated hardware and software.

The last humans were only unfinished business. The Iron Huntress was the real enemy.

The Great Horned ship was now ready. The seeds delivered from the First and Second T'kaan fleets would now be planted to complete the next process.

In addition, the next cycle of life for the T'kaan was coming to its climax. On over sixty of the conquered human worlds, the maggot young had long since eaten the remaining food and were now preying upon each other. Soon, only the strongest would be left as the final metamorphosis began. Then would come the lust that culminated in the final phase of this third stage of the cycle of life. A new generation would be conceived.

Finally, the fourth stage and the sacred pilgrimage of each T'kaan warrior to the Great Horned ship.

The Great Horned ship of the T'kaan Third would be ready.

But the T'kaan could not complete this cycle with the Iron Huntress still alive and roving at will among the growing broods.

So, inside the battleships and cruisers and frigates of the growing Third fleet, the warrior-class trained anew. The artificial life of the enemy must be destroyed once and for all.

It had to be.

The leader-class also began to formulate their battle plans, not simply to set another trap, but this time the new ship would be ready. The ship the T'kaan had specially built to destroy the Iron Huntress.

The last humans must also die in this final battle—nothing would be left to chance. The T'kaan would be victorious, as they always were. As they always would be.

A new chant began that spread to every ship, to every T'kaan.

“Kill them, kill them, smash their brains. Kill the Huntress, burn her steel remains.”

“Forever!”

Teenagers.

Mother had learned to dislike the term.

She felt her processors begin to spike with activity. But she was once again faced with the insoluble enigma, the endless paradox, the absolute no-win situation.

Mother at once realized she preferred a head-on battle with a squadron of T'kaan warships to this.

Nothing fit the facts. No amount of logic could appease them. Yet, what flushed Mother's near-term memory to absolute empty was the fact that they did not realize the total illogic of their own actions.

Not for the first time, Mother searched the human knowledgebase for answers. But the answer for this difficult problem, though simple, was difficult for her to accept.

They would grow out of it.

That is what the experts explained would be the ultimate answer as she cross-referenced thousands of published expert opinions on the subject of teenagers, and all that this stage entailed for human adolescents. Mother sighed deep inside her circuits.

It was a wonder the human race had not become extinct millennia ago. It was a miracle the parents, not to mention the teenagers themselves, survived the adolescent period of child rearing.

With hesitation, she activated the optic monitor inside the library where the teenagers were now located.

She zoomed out to view the entire room first. Mother knew what to expect before she saw them.

As teenagers, they preferred more interaction with their entertainment instead of merely viewing it.

Kyle and Jaric's lanky bodies were sprawled over exotic furniture while loud, booming music—most likely causing damage to their auditory organs—reverberated throughout the entire deck, as well as the decks above and below. Various containers of food, dozens of half-empty glasses and a myriad of other objects were scattered across the floor as if the room had taken a direct hit from a T'kaan battleship.

But Mother was more concerned with the other inhabitants of this merry chaos.

The two-dimensional images of dozens of other teens danced and yelled joyfully on the walls, projected there by Jaric's latest code. Standing out from the others, there were several holo-projections who danced around with a very life-like precision among Kyle, Jaric and Becky.

Mother's optic zoomed in.

Becky danced with two young holographic men on either side of her, laughing with them as their holo-bodies almost came in contact with hers in their wild gesticulations. She turned to face first one cute holo-guy, and then twisting with the music she smiled into the face of the other. She giggled with girlish delight.

But Mother's optic focused on another holo-projection, one completely out of place in this party atmosphere.

It was the holographic image of a T'kaan warrior, his six tentacle arms waving in the air in an excited state.

She watched as its short, stiff legs pushed its massive body forward as the large worm-like body undulated, causing its thick rubbery skin to jiggle with disgusting effect. It repeated the motion, quicker this time. And again. And again.

It moved exactly as a real T'kaan would as it stalked its prey—going in for the kill.

Mother wondered what this meant—Jaric and the other two programming this party to include a T'kaan. She had never known them to do something of this nature before. Of course, in the last year, they had programmed numerous parties, each program more elaborate than the last. It was a new outlet for them.

She continued to watch as the three-jointed jaw opened wide, the two tusks on the lower jaws pointing far out while the rows of tiny fangs on all three jaws glistened from the overhead lights.

Like a cobra striking, the holo-T'kaan launched itself at a holo-teenager, wrapping its strong tentacles around the dancing form who seemed completely oblivious to her fate as she struggled to keep dancing in its grasp.

Mercifully, in a flash of light, the T'kaan finished its meal without any gory details, its biting mouth now chewing on empty air.

But one holo-teenager was now missing from the party.

Slowly, the T'kaan approached another dancing holo-figure in the same manner.

“Mother's spying on us again,” Jaric said as he eyed the active optic.

“Not again!” With total exasperation, Becky stopped dancing while her partners eerily continued without missing a beat.

Kyle grunted acknowledgment as his head continued to bob to the heady beat of the music.

“Why did you program this projection of the T'kaan?” Mother asked.

Kyle looked away with exasperation, rolling his eyes. Jaric cast his eyes down sullenly, as if he were hiding something.

Becky laughed.

Mother waited long seconds, which seemed like hours, for an answer. But it became obvious the children were not going answer. Or were afraid to answer. This bothered Mother and she felt the familiar buzzing in her processors to substantiate that realization. Perhaps, she thought, this T'kaan is a projection of some kind of internal, emotional stress of the children. She began cross-referencing this incident with the knowledgebase sections of psychology.

She continued. “I have come to tell you that you have missed another training period of Biology. Guardian relayed your negative responses to me.”

“Big deal,” Kyle shouted over the music.

In another second, Mother lowered the volume to an acceptable level, over the groans of the three real teenagers.

“There is more for you to learn,” Mother said for the seven thousandth, three hundred and twenty-seventh time.

“We're tired of learning,” Jaric responded. He sat up, grabbing a handful of popcorn. Half of it spilled onto the floor as he began munching. “We need time for ourselves.”

“Yeah,” Becky joined in. “We need to have fun. There's too much pressure.”

“It is vital for your intellectual development, as well as your emotional development, for you to continue your studies—on a regular schedule. It brings needed stability to your lives.” Mother paused, and counted how many times she had used this phrase, or one similar to it, the last few years.

Six thousand and twelve times, to be exact.

Kyle turned the volume up again.

“Listen,” Kyle shouted above the throbbing tempo. “There's time for science and that other crap later. We've learned enough for right now.”

“We've learned what we need to survive. That's what's important,” Jaric shouted.

“Yeah,” Kyle agreed. “We know how to destroy the T'kaan.”

Mother reviewed every interaction she had ever had with the children in her near-term memories. Once again, the same answer presented itself. And once again, she repeated that same, fundamentally sound, answer.

“Fighting the T'kaan is a necessary skill. But knowledge—the arts, the sciences, that is what brings...”

“Happiness?” Becky cut in. “I don't think so.”

Mother pondered again the fact that the children actually seemed to have the same self-delusion—that they actually possessed more knowledge than herself.

Astounding.

Mother continued. “No, that is not the word I was going to use.”

“Really, Mother.” Jaric rolled over, turning his back to her optic.

“Direction. This knowledge will help give you a foundation for your future. Your taking in knowledge will provide each of you with the needed tools to reach out in life, to tackle the challenges you will face, to overcome obstacles. Most importantly, to reach and obtain your dreams,” Mother finished.

“
Pfffffffft
.” Kyle wiped his lips as he finished blowing the raspberry at Mother.

“Mother, please!” Becky groaned with utter exasperation.

Mother contemplated the situation. Something was indeed bothering them. Some kind of psychological turmoil that tugged at their subconscious and manifested itself in this bizarre behavior. She would have to discern the actual emotional problem first before she could determine the proper course of action to alleviate their emotional distress.

“Becky, please elaborate your inner turmoil so I may help,” Mother asked with concern.

Becky stared at the active optic with crossed arms—silent and waiting. Without warning she turned and found herself facing her image in a mirror. Her eyes narrowed as she studied her image carefully.

“I hate my hair.”

Mother processed this statement. “Perhaps we can...”

“I
hate
my hair!” Becky shouted, tears now welling in her eyes. “I hate myself. I hate the way I look.” She turned away from the boys wiping her tears away.

Mother's processors hummed with activity as she tried to determine her next action.

“I apologize, I do not fully understand. The color and texture of your hair has not changed since you were a child, neither have your facial features. Please help me to understand your current unhappiness so that I may help you, Becky,” Mother said.

Becky's sobs became louder as she shook her head violently, indicating a negative answer.

“PMS,” Kyle said, his words barely audible above the music.

In the next instant, the music and the other holo-teenagers disappeared. Mother had turned them off with a flick of her circuits.

“Mother!” Becky shouted. “Now you've ruined everything.” With a loud groan she stormed through the door and headed out into the corridor and toward her room without a glance back at any of them.

Jaric watched her leave with a fleeting sigh.

“I have rechecked my data and Becky's menstrual cycle is a full two weeks away, Kyle. It cannot be a factor,” Mother said.

“PPMS then,” Kyle mumbled.

Mother processed the data. “I have no cross reference for that acronym. Please explain.”

“Perpetual PMS,” Kyle groaned out loud. “And turn the music back on already.”

Mother tried to comprehend, yet there seemed to be a high probability that his statement indicated subtle humor. She did not turn the music back on as she continued her calculations.

“Why don't you just turn me off, too,” Kyle grumbled. With a loud sigh he, too, left the room without another word.

Jaric now sat alone in the empty room—empty of both real and holo-teenagers. He looked slowly around as if he were searching for something he had lost.

“Jaric,” Mother said. “You enjoy learning. Why do you not assist me with the other two?”

Jaric frowned, the ceiling lights dancing off of his ebony face. But he did not answer.

Mother, to disregard the non-input, focused more of her processing to her other systems. This kept her occupied, free from the frustration of the long seconds of complete silence.

“I want you to leave Becky alone.”

Jaric's words took Mother off guard. Her processors now spiked with activity from the recent words of all three children the last few minutes.

“Don't bother her. She's sensitive. And,” Jaric paused. “I care how she feels.”

“My words seem to be incurring unexpected reactions, Jaric. Please help me to understand you as a teenager. What is it that prompted your last statements. It was not my intention to bother Becky at all.”