Exiled to the Stars Page 14

  Vlad nodded at his retreating back. "Good man. I woke up to him slapping my face and yelling that we needed to find you." He turned back to Cesar. "What about me? I can search as good as anyone."

  Cesar shook his head with a chuckle. "No, old friend. At our ages, we'd just be in the way. Besides, I've got a more important job for you. It occurred to me that if the computer survived, it may have a lot of information about our situation. It has sensors all over the ship."

  Vlad snorted. "You think the computer lived through this?"

  Cesar shrugged. "I don't know. But remember, they told us in training that the computer was in a sealed, armored chamber in the center of the ship, and that it's solid-state. If I had to guess, I'd say it lost a lot of sensors and ancillaries, but the computer itself will be all right. Actually, I'm more concerned about its power supply."

  Vlad shrugged. "You may be right. What do you want me to do? Go talk to it?"

  Cesar shook his head. "I need you more as a deputy and advisor. No, what I was thinking was that I'd like you to see if Robert Franks survived." He sighed. "I'm going to miss Ron and Raymond." He straightened. "And Tara! We're going to need Tara badly."

  Vlad shook his head. "I dunno. I like Tara, but I've never been able to understand why you think she's so important. I mean, there are sure to be farmers among the other dorms."

  Cesar smiled. "We have some farmers among our ghetto people, Vlad. But they know how to farm using hand tools on small plots in the Philippines the way their grandfathers did – with hard work and low yields." He waved a hand. "Other Drones will know how to farm using hand tools in Korea, or China, or Vietnam. Tara grew up farming using modern techniques and equipment. If we can salvage any of that stuff in the hold, Tara could mean the difference between the success or failure of the colony." He shrugged. "It would be nice if we could find a few more like her from the Undie dorms. But for now, she's vital to us."

  Vlad looked unconvinced. "If you say so. But if the computer is all right, it can teach anyone modern farming, and even qualify them for degrees in Agriculture or Agronomy."

  Cesar shook his head. "It's not the same. Look. Suppose we found a very intelligent Drone here, and he took every course the computer contains in robotics. Would you consider him a world-class roboticist?"

  Vlad sighed. "Okay, Cesar, if you say so." He straightened. "I'll go find them, and if Franks is all right, I'll send him into the classroom to talk to the computer. Do you want to see Tara?"

  Cesar started to shake his head, then paused as a thought occurred. "Yes, I do, if she's all right. I have a job for her, too."

  Vlad just nodded and waved, then hurried off.

  Cesar grabbed the nearest middle-aged man. "Raoul! I want you to count heads in the dorm. Find out how many were killed, how many injured, and how seriously. Send a boy to me with the count. Then you can start recruiting volunteers to put the bodies into storerooms, take the injured to the med bay, and for search parties. Lots of search parties." He gestured toward the ceiling, now bulging down in places. "I have a feeling that the Undie dorms are in a lot worse shape than we are!"

  Cesar fought his way through the dorm's central corridor, and then out the hatch and into the corridor outside. It was slightly less crowded out there, but just slightly. He pushed his way into the hatch leading to dorm 8, ignoring the whispers of the people who recognized him as he passed.

  He grabbed a young boy by the arm. "Son, would you find one of the Elders and tell him that Messer Montero would like to talk to him?" The boy looked unhurt, and he threw Cesar a wide grin and a sketchy salute. "Yes, sir!" he replied crisply before diving into the crowd.

  Meanwhile, people were recognizing him. He heard his name repeated in loud whispers and he was once again besieged by people seeking information he didn't have.

  Luckily, the boy was back in less than a minute, with Reynaldo Pereira in tow, leaning on an improvised crutch.

  "Cesar!" he cried, his relief obvious. "Are you all right?" he asked as he caught sight of Cesar's head bandage.

  Cesar smiled and nodded. "Yes. A broken rib, a head cut." He started to shrug, and winced at the pain. "What can you tell me?" he continued.

  Reynaldo frowned. "There are many dead, perhaps forty. Francisco, Benigno …" he shook his head in sadness at the deaths of his fellow Elders before continuing. "And at least twice that many injured. I am gathering volunteers to take them to the med station."

  Cesar shook his head. "I suspect the med station is overwhelmed by now. Take only the most seriously injured to the med station." He raised his eyes to meet the Elder's. "You understand that means the most seriously injured that are likely to survive. Do not send the dying." He said grimly. "The rest will have to settle for first aid for now. Use your volunteers to move the bodies to storage rooms and to form search parties." He pointed to an area where the ceiling bulged down. "I have sent people to all the dorms on this deck, but I'm afraid those on deck 5 will need more immediate help. It appears there will be many deaths up there. Every injured person that dies reduces our chances of survival. We must save as many as we can!"

  Reynaldo eyed the bulge grimly. "I understand. The Captain deliberately crashed the ship upside down, didn't he?"

  Cesar nodded. "I think so. It seems obvious that he sacrificed himself and the crew to ensure that the supplies our colony would need would survive. Now we must give his sacrifice meaning by saving enough people to make up that colony."

  A boy slipped through the crowd and pulled on Cesar's shipsuit. "Messer Benares sent me," he said after gaining Cesar's attention. "He said to tell you that twenty-two are dead and seventy-six are injured. Twenty-four are critical, and fourteen of those have been taken to the med station." Cesar could read between the lines Raoul had given the boy. The ten critically injured not sent to the med station were so severely injured they were not expected to survive.

  He was shocked. 32 dead in one dorm, and more than forty in another, both on a deck that suffered comparatively little damage. It gave him little hope for those on deck 5.

  Vlad was waiting for him when he returned to Dorm 7, with a weeping Tara. "Robert had a dislocated shoulder," Vlad reported, "but I jerked it back into position." He smiled grimly. "I'm surprised you didn't hear him scream. I think everyone else did. He fainted, but after I woke him, I sent him to the classroom to check on the computer."

  He paused. "Uh, I'm also starting to hear complaints. People who lost loved ones aren't happy about being dragged into search parties."

  Cesar frowned at him warningly. "I'll talk to you about that in a moment. Right now, I need to talk to this young lady."

  He turned to Tara, and put his arm around her shoulders. "I'm really very sorry, Tara, Ron was very important to me, too.

  "But right now," he continued as her weeping subsided slightly, "I need your help. I'm sorry." He smiled sadly. "It's the price of being an important person, I'm afraid."

  Tara straightened, struggling to regain control of herself. After a moment, she raised tear-filled eyes. "You need my help?" she asked in a timid tone.

  Cesar nodded. "I have a job that you are uniquely qualified to perform. And it's very important."

  She straightened even more. "What is it, Cesar? What can I do?" Suddenly, she sounded almost desperate.

  "Well," he said, "It occurred to me that we have landed, no matter how. That means we are grounded on an alien planet; one we know very little about, with threats we do not know and are not expecting. You are the only person I know that is an experienced hunter and outdoorsman. Or woman," he added. "I'd like you to take your laser and try to find a way off the ship. I need you to scout for threats and patrol the area until we're in a condition to actively explore."

  Her eyes were dry now. She nodded seriously. "I can do that, Cesar. But a hand laser isn't much of a weapon." She smiled weakly. "I doubt I'll need it, though. The crash probably scared away every animal for miles."

  He nodded. "I know. But I'm afraid the hand la
ser will have to do until we can figure out how to get access to the ship's armory. I'll also try to find others with outdoor skills I can send to help you. Oh," he added, "Make sure you put on isolation gear or a spacesuit. We don't want any bugs to get you, either."

  Tara nodded. She was standing ramrod straight now, and her eyes were dry. "I'll get on it right away," she replied. "After that crash, I don't think I'll have trouble finding a way off the ship!" She strode away, hand resting on the butt of the laser she still wore, her stride confident.

  Vlad smiled admiringly. "That was great, Cesar."

  Cesar suppressed a shrug. "When my wife died, a man I knew found a way to come up with a job that needed doing, and that he claimed only I could do. It saved me; it kept me from wallowing in my grief. That's why I stopped you when you mentioned the complaints. The best thing we can do for those who lost someone is to give them an important job to do; especially since we won't be able to provide ceremonial funerals."

  He sighed. "In fact, if the fusion reactor is still safe to run, all we will probably be able to do is use the bodies for reaction mass. There won't be much opportunity for grieving."

  Vlad smiled grimly. "And if the reactor isn't usable?"

  "Then we'll have the largest funeral pyre since the black plague in the middle ages."

  Vlad's smile widened, became genuine. "I don't think they burned bodies much during the plague years. I think they did mass graves. So you'll probably set a record."

  Cesar started to reply, and then stopped as he noticed Boyet Mamerto approaching. "Boyet!" he greeted him. "What can you tell me?"

  Boyet was tired. His shoulder were slumped, his manner weary. "We've been to almost every dorm on both decks. Most down here seem to be running 30 to 40 percent deaths. The med bay on this deck is all right, and we have three Med Techs. We ended up with a lot of search parties, so I took them upstairs. It's a lot worse up there. The problem is the collapse isn't uniform. In the center of a dorm, we have to crawl through areas where the ceiling has been collapsed to within inches of the deck. Nothing left but red jelly. But near bulkheads and in smaller spaces, the added support prevented total collapse. A lot of people are trapped between bunks, and we're working like crazy to get them out before they bleed to death or suffocate. So we have to crawl through the jelly. But it's pretty gruesome.

  Cesar frowned. "'Almost' every dorm?"

  Boyet's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah. Dorm 25. The door's still welded shut. Somebody's pounding on it, though, so somebody's alive in there."

  "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 tha
t 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."