Star Trails Tetralogy Box Set

8. DORAI

The Escape Pod

ARE YOU POSITIVE you're Miran?”

Creena paused, not sure which was more annoying, the persistent squeak of the marching machine or DORAI's continual intrusions.

“Yes, I am,” she replied. “It's my naterra and being on the Aquarius was the first I ever left. Don't you have my records?”

“Yes, of course. Your biometrics just don't match with a typical Miran identification.”

Creena shook her head and resumed stepping with increased vigor. Stupid v-troid. Palmprints were nearly as infallible as aura signatures, certainly an order of magnitude more reliable than physical descriptions anyway. Furthermore 'troids weren't supposed to concern themselves with such trivia. To think she'd actually thought a v-troid would make decent company. If she had any favorable personality traits they certainly hadn't manifested. Rather all she'd observed so far was a bossy, nosey, critical composite of compiled computer code. DORAI wasn't even consistent, her behavior and tone changing with every zone.

She swiped a pool of sweat from her forehead then wiped it on her uniform, slowing her rhythm as she checked her energy output. It was less than expected and no where near her quota so she picked up speed again to get it over with. Countermeasures were such a bore. Furthermore it seemed as if she'd done much less work the chron before with more results.

She still wasn't convinced why they were necessary in the first place. It was like ascending and descending thousands of stairs every day. First she’d have to push against the pedals as if climbing for several minutes then resist as they pushed back, driving her knee toward her chest, the final decimeter coming to a sudden stop that sent a mild shock up her leg clear to her hip. DORAI said the impact was important to maintain her bone density but the stomping sensation was the worst part. By now zero-g felt so natural that she dreaded returning to the cumbersome realities of planetary existence anyway. Why couldn't she just enjoy it while it lasted?

Nonetheless there were still a few things she'd never get used to. Like the sanicube. She'd never thought of going to the bathroom or taking a shower as gravity-assisted functions before but they were with equally bizarre solutions.

But the contrast between Mira III and the pod extended beyond zero-g. Academic zones had the outward appearance of being like the Academy but differences kept grabbing her attention, some subtle, some not. Rather than a parade of closely related linear facts to memorize ever since the first chron she'd been given narratives that related to one another in sometimes crazy ways. She wasn't expected to memorize them, at least as far as she could tell, since quizzes were multiple choice instead of fill-in-the-blank, but the distinctions between answers were often small. It made her feel a little uncomfortable, as if she were merely offering her opinion rather than reciting facts, clouding whether an answer was right or wrong. Yet there was something about it she liked, thinking she had the power to derive answers rather than simply regurgitate facts.

Plus, she could actually ask questions. At first when she'd slipped into her usual NCR-generating behavior she'd winced, thinking she'd get into trouble. She didn't. She didn't get any answers, either, but at least there didn't seem to be any NCR's. Somehow she suspected there had to be an equivalent yet had no idea what it could be. It was highly unlikely the food could get any worse.

She checked the energy output on the descender again. It had barely gone up. She stopped pushing and glared then removed the waist strap in disgust and glided over to the workstation to wait for DORAI's image to appear. There was something strange about that v-troid, something annoying, even when she tried to be nice. True she was no more than program code whereas the 'troids at the Academy were at least tangible. Occasionally they were even designed to resemble persons, many of whom were mighty boring even in the flesh so definitely weren't improved much when their persona was imposed on a 'troid.

Yet it was more than that. Even besides the strange learning format no chron was exactly like the one before. It was almost as if her zones weren't entirely automated, as if someone was changing them in small, insignificant ways. Even DORAI seemed changeable.

So which one would it be this time? The maternal, placating DORAI, the task-master do-your-countermeasures DORAI, or the strictly-business these-are-your-assignments DORAI?

Static appeared in the projection space followed quickly by the these-are-your-assignments DORAI. “This zone will focus upon galactic cartography,” she announced. “You will be instructed how to access the pod's database. You are to identify at least three star systems in the fourth quadrant that contain a habitable planet, at least three off-world mineral resources, and explain whether the system's economy is based on imports or exports.”

Creena entered the commands as instructed, anxious to see what the database might contain. She'd wanted to know where the pod was going since jettison. Maybe now she could figure it out. The search routine was easy but she feigned ignorance so she could explore a while before reporting her answers. She expected DORAI to catch on and chide her back to task but she didn't, not even when she called up navigational data to determine the pod's current location. When she didn't dare snoop any further she searched for the nearest habitable planet.

The answer appeared momentarily. Verdaris, galactic code HV/944-876-alpha. It was part of a ternary or three part star system that consisted of two active solar components, the third burned out to a neutron star. The planet served primarily as an agricultural outpost shared by numerous worlds. A holochip illustrated lush surface conditions on a balanced mix of land mass and water inhabited by a sparse population that was strictly seasonal. The planet's industrial base was entirely food-related and automated from seeding to harvest. In essence Verdaris was a massive biodome.

Realizing she'd been holding her breath in anticipation she let it out and glanced at DORAI who was frozen in inactivity. Though elated with her find she still felt guilty, as if she'd found something out she wasn't supposed to. When she'd asked repeatedly where the pod was going she had either been ignored or told directly that it was none of her concern. Such an assertive act on Mira III would have carried a mandatory D-hall and a class four NCR. But as she'd been adequately reminded, she wasn't on Mira III anymore.

While she felt a keen sense of accomplishment it also made her feel sneaky and dishonest. But with the question of her destination satisfied her rising curiosity challenged her to determine when she'd arrive. The distance was easily calculated but without knowing the pod's velocity there was no way of telling when. Frustrated with the dead end she proceeded with her cartography assignment.

Much to her surprise DORAI never commented on her unauthorized excursion.

But it had definitely been noted.

* * *

The Cosmos II

“So tell me, Dirck, what do you think is going to happen on Verdaris?”

Dirck was on a stool fixed to the deck, ‘Merapa in the captain's chair, feet on the table in the ship’s middeck. They'd been traveling for just over a chron and were relaxing over some genour and sennulian tea. The soft color and rhythm of holografix swirled around them, adjusted for maximum relaxation but having little effect as far as Dirck was concerned. He shrugged an evasive reply and took another cautious sip, avoiding his father’s eyes. The tea was acrid and bitter but settled his stomach which still hadn't quite recovered from launch. His wince, however, was more from the bite in his father’s scrutiny.

“We pick up Creena and bring her home,” he responded.

“What if we can't find the pod? Or Creena?”

Dirck shrugged. “But that's why we're here. To find her and bring her home.”

His father leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “That's the intent, I know. But remember, more time has passed for her than us.”

Dirck frowned, confused. “It has?”

“Nearly an entire chron went by before we left plus we're cruising at warp two, a lot faster than any escape pod could possible go.”

“So shouldn't we get there first?”

“Only if both our TDMs function properly. Without them we'd arrive roughly four years after her, at least in Verdarian time. If hers didn't work and ours did we'd get there almost eight years ahead of her.”

Dirck blinked, any connectivity between the two statements entirely lost. “But I thought we were going to get there in ten chrons?”

“Remember relativity?” His father asked, the weary sound of spent patience in his voice.

“Oh,” Dirck muttered. “Time dilation. We're going faster so our clock is running slower even though it seems the same.”

“Exactly. So what if the pod or Creena isn't there? Then what?” Dirck stared at him vacantly, unable to process the question. “You've never thought about those other possibilities have you?”

Dirck shook his head, lost in space.

“You need to break out of that linear thinking mode you learned on Mira III,” ‘Merapa explained. “Situations everywhere else in the universe often have an unpredictable outcome. Where control lessens choices increase. It's kind of like quantum electrodynamics where every possibility has to be factored into the predicted outcome.”

“How?” Dirck asked. “If you don't know what's going to happen how can you prepare?”

“You review everything you do know and extrapolate the results. For example when Creena was missing and I found out the pod had fired about the same time I connected the two events as a possibility. Unfortunately I was correct. Less obvious situations take more experience to say nothing of intuition and lots of thought.”

Dirck hid what he knew was another dumb look by taking a sip of his drink while his father continued.

“The best way I can explain it would be like the differences between the circumference, surface area and volume of a sphere,” he went on. “Events on Mira III were like a line, a single dimension that never diverged. Some worlds are more like a surface with two dimensions, for example, choices in career selection or deciding where to live. See the difference? They didn't even give you that much on Mira III.”

“You mean some places let you choose things like that?”

His father nodded. “When you have complete freedom of choice, however, results are more like a sphere with possibilities that match the complexity of the situation.” He paused, apparently watching for some indication that Dirck was following the conversation. “The choices you make determine your destiny. You have to open yourself up to as many prospects as possible and plan accordingly. Otherwise you'll find yourself continually taken by surprise and at a tremendous disadvantage if you don't have time for conscious decisions.”

Dirck’s heart rate quickened as the lecture sunk in. “So we really don't know what we're getting into at all, meaning we might not find her.”

“It's a possibility along with a million others. About all we know is that the situation is unpredictable. You're not used to this sort of thing. I just wanted to warn you we're bound to encounter the unexpected. Take this ship as an example.”

Dirck gulped down the remainder of his tea with a renewed sense of dread. Great. The unexpected hadn't even been deferred until their arrival on Verdaris. “What makes you say that?” he asked.

“The TL-87 came out when I was in the Space Command, right before I resigned. Everyone with flight status was briefed and trained, even got in several chrons of flight time. As you've probably noticed it can nearly fly itself with or without an intelligent interface so the primary functionality lies in data collection and processing systems. Also their speed. When modified to warp five it can cross the entire galaxy in about a chron and a half.”

Dirck listened in fascination as his father explained that the menu for the flight computer had been upgraded. That really wasn't that much of a surprise except several charts, receiving, and data processing capabilities were unresponsive along with the ordnance systems, defensive weapons and data search capabilities as well.

“Do you think they're just goofed up?” Dirck asked.

“Not very likely,” his father stated. “This is Troy's personal ship, remember? How long would those techs have their job, maybe their lives, if something went wrong with the captain's TL-87?”

Dirck shrugged. “So what do you think is going on?”

“The requisition disk Troy gave me had restrictions built in. They reconfigured the functionality for a different level than when Troy takes it out.”

Their eyes met and Dirck sensed the mental energy that had been unleashed. Not having access to all of the ship's capabilities was more temptation than any pilot could stand, much less someone like Laren Brightstar.

“Won't he. . .” Dirck stopped when his father gave him the pinching gesture that meant to shut down in Esheronian.

“That's enough for now,” he said aloud. “I don't know about you but I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up in a decichron.”

“Okay, ‘Merapa,” Dirck replied, confused by the abrupt ending, even more so when his father took out his notelog rather than leaving for his cyll. His first statement stated he was unsure how much of their conversation was being monitored. Thus they conducted the remainder of their conversation via the small screen and silent gestures. Gradually Dirck felt the concept of choices take yet another turn. It was clear that his father intended to find out all he could. Meanwhile the penalties for such behavior skirted his conscious mind like an unbreached nightmare.

After that ‘Merapa crawled into his cyll but Dirck remained at the table, unsettled by a future that had become more of an enigma than ever before. He didn't entirely understand what his father had been talking about and, quite frankly, didn't want to. It probably had something to do with higher laws again.

All this confusion was horrible. No wonder he had a headache, his stomach in knots. Historically his expectations were sound. His father had never made a mistake in his life and until the last chron nothing had ever happened that hadn't been expected. And knowing Creena, none of this should have been a surprise, either. Of course they'd find her or they wouldn't be taking so many chances. All that babbling about choices and possibilities was no more than stuff and nonsense.

Dirck sighed with relief, satisfied, as the well-nourished denial merged with his need for order and the disturbing thoughts exited obediently from further consideration.

Except for a vague anxiety that even sennulian tea couldn't relieve.