You know you've dropped a clanger when an entire room full of people suddenly falls silent.
That's basically what happened.
"This large creature is the Sea Emperor. To the best of my knowledge, he is the most powerful creature on this planet. Those slightly smaller sonar contacts are most likely to be Sea Dragon leviathans, unless they're something I haven't seen before. Entirely possible, given that evolution has gone into hyperdrive since humans arrived here. Your base defence systems have been specifically programmed to grant these creatures safe passage. The creatures known as Warpers are also guaranteed safe passage. Unless this base is directly attacked by any of these creatures, your ALECTO artificial intelligence construct will not consider them to be a threat. However, if they do attack, it will respond accordingly. Manual weapon controls are also disabled during a peaceful encounter. These measures are non-negotiable; your continued survival depends on it."
Polyakov roared with rage. He rushed forward, sending several colonists sprawling on the deck.
"You've killed us all! Those monsters will be on us in seconds, and we're completely defenceless!"
"Piss off, malaka!" I snapped. "There's four Cyclops standing guard out there, plus four ExoSuits armed with Gauss cannons. Besides, if anything does go wrong, the entire defence grid will automatically kick in. Get this through your thick skull... Those leviathans are not on an attack run!"
"You'd bet our lives on that?" Polyakov sneered, jutting his jaw aggressively.
"I'll go you one better. I'd bet my own life on it." I shoved him aside, and sprinted for the main airlock.
Just as I was about to open the inner airlock door, Héloise caught up and grabbed my arm.
"I'm coming with you." Her expression was pure granite, as if daring me to argue with her.
I smiled, caressing her cheek tenderly. "Wouldn't have it any other way, love. You can speak for the colony in person. I'll establish a three-way link so you can communicate with your fellow committee members in real-time. Suit up and follow my lead. Everything's going to be fine."
When Héloise was kitted up and ready to go, the airlock cycled and we swam out together.
All four Cyclops stood waiting silently inside the inner defence ring. I silently signalled the crew as we passed. JUNO, IANTO and DIGBY confirmed that they were ready for action, particularly if this meeting were to suddenly stray into unfriendly territory. Héloise's heart rate rose with increasing apprehension as we swam beyond the relative safety of this area. As we swam, I reached out and took her hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. In the blue-green distance beyond, I could see the immense, majestic shapes of leviathans moving slowly towards us.
"Up ahead. Three hundred and fifty metres out. Relax, dear heart. There's nothing to be afraid of. What we're doing is regarded as a genuine gesture of respect. He's probably well aware of the subs and defence turrets behind us, but we're completely unarmed, at least to his way of thinking. We'll be standing before Him without our Shells. It's kind of a big deal to them."
Héloise froze. Ten metres ahead of us, a roughly man-sized patch of water began to swirl and boil.
The Warper materialised, weaving its forelimbs in a formalised gesture of greeting. Héloise and I responded with appropriate motions and colour changes to our holographic camouflage. Once these social niceties had been observed, the Warper addressed us in a more genial manner.
"Warm seas, friends. This One brings words from Father of Tides. He come for see Lost Ones from the Dark Place. Father of Tides see Lost One Shell has many sharp spines. Metal Talons here. Not come for Lost Ones. Father of Tides come for see and talk Lost Ones. Not for break Lost Ones Shell."
Hmm. Seems like our defence measures are worrying Father of Tides. 'Metal Talons' - That could only mean our Cyclops fleet. The 'spines' are obviously the colony's defence turrets. I'd better show that we're willing to meet him halfway here, rather than putting on an obvious display of strength solely for the colonists' benefit. Even so, I let them know that the Sea Emperor's intentions are entirely peaceful before standing down the defence system.
"JUNO, withdraw all units. Regroup on the surface 200 metres west of Kaori-san no-shima."
"Affirmative, Captain. Fleet is underway to new coordinates, as ordered."
"Metal Talons hear Father of Tides. Lost Ones greet Father of Tides. Swim free, friends." I signed.
A meeting with Father of Tides is an awe-inspiring experience. As the five leviathans resumed their stately approach, Héloise gripped my hand even more tightly. I could only imagine what was happening inside the colony now. Of course, I could tap into its security cameras to take a quick peek later, but I needed to stay entirely focused on the conduct of this encounter. You don't get too many chances in a lifetime, even an extended one, to hobnob with an entity this powerful.
"Warm seas, Father of Tides. Your (presence) in This Place feeds us." We signed respectfully.
The Sea Emperor inclined his ponderous head gently, acknowledging our greeting.
"Warm seas, Lost Ones. This One is here to see. Your Shell is strong. Where do Lost Ones swim?"
"Lost Ones in new Shell for many tides, then swim free. Come above-water and walk free."
His expression shifted slightly, an almost quizzical look forming on his immense face.
"For why? Lost Ones not swim? Above-water break Lost One shell!" He signed incredulously.
"Lost Ones from above-water. Above-water is Lost Ones first Shell. Born in this place." I explained.
"This one see now. Lost Ones walk above-water, not swim. Different. Not like you. You swim free."
"This One walk and swim with Father of Tides. Give his words to Lost Ones."
"You are Father of Lost Ones?" He inquired.
"This One not Father. This One was Lost One all alone. Sky Shell was broken." I admitted.
"Not alone. You have mate. You show Lost Ones way from Dark Place, make new Great Shell. Give words.You are Father." He signed emphatically.
Héloise looked at me strangely, as if seeing me for the very first time.
Assuming that Father of Tides was speaking figuratively, I suppose that was a reasonable statement for him to make. When it comes down to brass tacks, I guess we're essentially in the same business. The only difference is that He has an entire planet to look after, and I have the Lost Ones. If it came down to a question of scale, the Sea Emperor definitely has the more difficult job. Although I've always intended this arrangement to be strictly hands-off once the colony re-establishes normal operations, I have a distinct feeling that I won't be able to remain entirely uninvolved with its daily affairs. Things have become slightly more complicated now. It's far too early to tell where this relationship with Héloise is heading, and there will always be some situations in the colony that will require intervention. This is something I'll need to discuss at considerable length with the committee.
We swam slowly toward the base. Father of Tides seemed particularly fascinated by the actual structure of the facility; how its foundations and structural layout conformed to the underwater features of Kaori-san no-shima. This was a conscious design decision, since the base's total structural mass and its component buoyancy factors had been calculated to maintain a perfect equilibrium with the floating island itself. Too much upthrust concentrated in any one location could destabilize the entire island, so we found it necessary to spread the base over a relatively large area.
Father of Tides swam closer to the base, his forward motion slowing to a careful, considerate crawl. Presently, we found ourselves hovering in front of the main bridge observation port, less than 20 metres from the closest structure. The four Dragon Leviathans hovered nearby, keeping watchful eyes on the ocean around us. A large knot of colonists had gathered in the bridge to witness this encounter. From what I could see, some were gazing out from the viewport in rapt fascination, while others drew back in terror as Father of Tides slowly approached.
"Warm seas, Lost Ones. This One greets you. Your Shell is strong. Not fear This One." He gestured.
"Héloise, does the committee have anything they'd like to say to Father of Tides? Now's the time."
She relayed the question, and the committee's reply was surprisingly prompt.
"Over to you, love. You have the floor." I said quietly.
Héloise swam into position and activated her camouflage field, becoming a Warper once more.
"Warm seas, Father of Tides. Lost Ones greet you as friends. Lost Ones (will) not swim as our Fathers swim in Dark Place, many tides gone. Not break Shell of This Place, not break Shell of Father of Tides. Give your words, and we swim free (with) Father of Tides."
This speech appeared to please the Sea Emperor immensely. He emitted a low rumble of approval.
"Many tides (from now), Sky Shell come for Lost Ones, take Lost Ones (away) back to first home. Lost Ones make new Sky Shell. Where Father of Tides swim? Break Sky Shell?" Héloise signed.
Good question. Basically, Héloise had asked whether Father of Tides would allow a Terran rescue ship to land sometime in the future, or permit the colonists to launch their own rescue vessel. Everything depended on how Father of Tides chose to respond to this crucial question.
"Sky Shell swim free. Lost Ones go above-sky first home." Father of Tides gestured gracefully.
Just what I wanted to hear. Father of Tides has given his explicit word that He will not interfere with any rescue attempt. Given that it would be in the planet's best interests to allow us to leave, He could not have answered otherwise. To put it mildly, this meeting would have lost any semblance of cordiality if he had refused.
Something must have caught the Sea Emperor's attention. We had been swimming slowly alongside the colony for some time now, when He unexpectedly turned into one of the submarine access corridors we'd left clear when designing the base. The only thing of any interest here was one of the base's primary mariculture facilities, although I hadn't specifically planned on taking our official tour in that direction. Still, Father of Tides wanted to see what He wanted to see, and I wasn't about to deny Him this opportunity. If anything, it would give Him a better idea of how Terrans are able to survive here.
Naturally, I was entirely mindful of a faint possibility that this visit could be some sort of covert intelligence-gathering operation, albeit one cleverly disguised as a diplomatic affair. That's why I'm being extremely particular about not showing Him such things as weapon systems, power generators and life support systems. I'm not irretrievably stupid, you know.
We halted in front of the Creepvine beds. Father of Tides swam closer to examine the minor forest we had transplanted here, his immense face bathed in golden light that radiated from myriad seed clusters floating gently in the current. His face wore an almost thoughtful expression, as if he were attempting to fathom the logic behind this arrangement. I swam over to one of the plants and severed a good-sized bunch of its tough foliage with my diamond blade. Normally, I'd either feed a bundle like this into a bioreactor or process it with a Fabricator to make fibre mesh. However, a simple demonstration of one of its uses would suffice. I picked a strand out the bundle, rolled it briskly between my palms to consolidate its fibres into a rough twist, then repeated this process a few more times. Once I had enough material, I joined each section together to form a short length of fairly serviceable cord. Ably assisted by the delightful Héloise, I demonstrated the difference in strength between a raw Creepvine strand and a basically worked cord, and it seemed to please Father of Tides no end. Consider this your first lesson in Technology 101, my good Sir.
Similarly, He displayed considerable interest in the colony's fish farms. The base had one primary multi-level fish farm, in addition to a number of smaller containment modules scattered throughout the complex. This is a precautionary measure to ensure that the colony's food stocks could be maintained if anything went wrong in the main fish farm. Again, I demonstrated the structure's purpose by catching a pair of Spadefish and depositing them in one of its breeding tanks. Father of Tides was able to watch the entire process through one of the facility's viewports. Before exiting the holding tank, I caught four other Spadefish and brought them back out into open water. I released all four in front of Father of Tides.
"Lost Ones eat some, give some back to Father of Tides. More to eat for all in This Place." I signed.
Congratulations, Father of Tides. You have completed Lesson Number Two: 'How Do I Aquaculture?'
After one complete circuit of the base, I had shown Father of Tides everything vaguely worth seeing. All things considered, He appeared to be intrigued by our technology, drawing comparisons to more familiar objects in order to properly grasp the nature of our artifacts. With His permission, JUNO launched a camera probe and used it to inspect Father of Tides and his Dragon Leviathan escorts more closely. The creatures were surprisingly compliant after the function of the 'Eye Fish' had been adequately explained to them. By way of reciprocation, JUNO held the drone steady so that it could be closely inspected by our guests.
"JUNO, please designate these four subjects as 'Dragon Leviathans', encode individuals as Běifēng, Nánfēng, Dōngfēng and Xīfēng. Collective reference ID to be encoded as: 'Four Winds'." I said.
"Affirmative, Sir." JUNO responded.
In return for sitting politely as we took our happy snaps, Father of Tides now wanted to see something that I personally felt might be a wee bit too much. I held a hasty discussion with JUNO and Co. then hand-balled the same question over to the committee. Although there were some minor reservations, the general consensus was that it should be okay to demonstrate a relatively minor example of our advanced technology. After introducing Father of Tides to the concepts of basic crafting and farming, it's a natural consequence that he would want to see the tools we use.
"Make new Shell. Show this one." He gestured.
I swam over to one of the island's smaller stalactites, beckoning Him to follow. After checking that my Builder tool had a stable matter transmission link signal, I constructed a group of four foundation plates and placed a basic habitation module upon them. After adding an entrance hatch, I entered the module and started adding interior fixtures, starting off with a couple of viewports so that Father of Tides could watch the whole process. After allowing sufficient time for the Sea Emperor to process what had taken place, I commenced dismantling everything I had just built. A few minutes later, absolutely nothing remained of the structure.
"Shell is gone. Where Shell swim away This Place?"
Rather than explain that all components had returned to storage bunkers in the base via a matter transmission beam, I simply held up the Builder and signed that it had 'sent all metal back to first home'. Fortunately, this simplistic explanation appeared to satisfy Father of Tides' insatiable curiosity, or I'd still be figuring out how to break it down into something he would understand. He even came up with an apt name that described the Builder tool in Warper speech... 'Shell Egg'.
"Lost Ones leave This Place for first home, take all broken Shell away. This Place swim free (again)."
From what I could gather from his various expressions, body language and vocalisations, Father of Tides seems mightily impressed by all that he has seen today. Not so sure about the Four Winds, though. They're kind of hard to read. Damnably inscrutable, in fact.
"You feed our minds, Father of Shells. We go now. Warm seas, friends. Swim free." He gestured at last.
Héloise and I respectfully responded in kind, remaining there until Father of Tides and his retinue disappeared into the blue-green haze beyond. I only hope that we have not bootstrapped this planet beyond its current capacity to evolve naturally.
For one brief, crystalline instant, time itself stood still. This was the defining moment of my life.
"Father of Shells?" Héloise snickered, seconds before dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.
"Thanks for the reality check, lass. " I grumped. "Nice job slashing my Floaties, by the way."
"So, Father of Tides considers you his equal now? I wouldn't want you getting a big head, Chérie."
I shrugged, laughing it off. "I would have preferred 'Father of Metal'. That would be wicked brutal. Still, I'm not complaining. It's not every day you get a chance to parlay with a planetary genius and live to tell the tale. This one's definitely going into the family album."
"I am still shaking, see? I cannot believe I have done this!" Héloise said excitedly. "You were so calm, so magnifique! I almost shamed myself when he came close. He is very frightening at first, yet so gentle inside... Just like you. You are my own gigantic sea-beast, and... I love you so very much!"
I laughed, not at Héloise's urgent declaration of love, but at the sheer incongruity of this situation. She told me this suspended halfway between Heaven and Hell, surrounded by an infinitely hostile ocean and immediately following an unbelievable encounter with an alien demigod. If that's not the right time to tell someone that you love them, then you obviously aren't living in the moment.
"I love you too, mon chère Héloise." I said softly.
We emerged from the airlock to the sound of jubilant cheering and wild applause. The colonists thronged around us, forming a gauntlet of outstretched hands eager to congratulate the two of us. Somehow, we managed to work our way into the bridge. Although it was awful tempting to simply bask in their adulation just a spell longer, there was some serious business to address first. I held up my hand, signalling for silence. Gradually, the general hubbub died down to a reasonable level.
"Thank you. First of all, I'd like to offer my thanks to Mme. Maida and the colony committee for their valuable contributions during this historic meeting. I could not have accomplished this mission without your unwavering support. Secondly, the issue of building your own rescue ship was raised during our conversation with Father of Tides. This is an undertaking that I have also given serious thought to recently, although you should understand that this project will require considerable planning, research and pure physical effort before it ever becomes a reality. Now, consider this next question carefully. Once we get started, there will be absolutely no turning back. It's an all or nothing proposition that requires total commitment... Do you want to return home?"
Somewhere in the thunderous roar of approval that followed, I distinctly heard someone say 'Yes'.
Most definitely.
Naturally, the entire colony kicked immediately into party mode. There was no stopping them. Héloise and I deftly cut the other committee members out of the herd, hustling them into one of the base admin rooms for some serious talk. Presently, we were joined by JUNO, IANTO and DIGBY. Now we could begin planning this mammoth project in earnest.
Awesome! I believe we've found the name of the ship: Borealis!!!
Plot twist!!: Sabotage thanks to Polyakov and Co.!!! Ambush thanks to the Reaper Clans!!! Polyakov and the Reapers team up!!! A wild, living Titan Leviathan appears!!!!
Awesome! I believe we've found the name of the ship: Borealis!!!
Plot twist!!: Sabotage thanks to Polyakov and Co.!!! Ambush thanks to the Reaper Clans!!! Polyakov and the Reapers team up!!! A wild, living Titan Leviathan appears!!!!
I was thinking a war between the sea emp and the reapers and such. Honestly, at this point, I would have just sent Polyakov & co. back to the old base. They want to run things? Fine, they can run things all by themselves.
One inescapable fact exists. We will have to build an industrial complex first. I'm not talking about some vile, smoke-belching monstrosity from the early 20th. Century, although there will be a reasonably large fission reactor involved somewhere along the line. Deuterium and tritium are absolutely vital prerequisites for fuelling the ship's fusion drives, and these hydrogen isotopes can be extracted from seawater with comparative ease. Without those two particular isotopes, we might as well build a 1:1 scale model of Aurora and call it a hotel. Hydrogen sulphide is also required for the deuterium separation process, although this can be extracted from Manannán's hydrothermal vents. Lithium is absolutely no problem at all. Ultimately, Skull Island is the only viable construction site that we can safely use. Our operations are going to generate a fair bit of heat over an extended period of time, and this would have a negative impact on the surrounding sea life.
Fortunately, Skull Island is entirely artificial, and its waters are almost completely devoid of any significant life. It's a little something I put together with a spare weekend and a Terraformer. The island is currently home to the four neutron accelerator silos we removed from Aurora, plus a couple of tonnes of the nastier elements on the Periodic Table locked away and perfectly safe in a purpose-built HAZMAT facility. As a bonus, we can make good use of everything that's stored there. What we can't use straight off the shelves, we simply feed into a nuclear transmutation furnace and convert it into something far more useful.
As you already know, large starships are typically constructed in an orbital dry dock. Micro-gravity is a huge help when you're trying to fit those jigsaw pieces together. We have the next best thing. An ocean. The highly complex nature of this project precludes the use of standard nano-lathe construction techniques. We can't simply make several large VAM gantries, link them together in software then feed the system a whole bunch of raw materials, cross our fingers and hope that it eventually spits out an Antares-class starship. It doesn't work that way, I'm afraid.
This build will have to be done strictly old-school. Lay the keel first, then build up an entire inner structure girder by girder. Install bulkheads, walkways and rooms as you go, adding fittings, pipe-work and power conduits exactly where they are needed. Every component will have to be placed entirely by hand. I admit, it's a construction method more suited to the glory days of Harland & Wolff shipyard in Belfast, but it's the only way we'll get this project off the ground, so to speak.
We'll be adding one minor twist to this method. This ship will be built in a submersible dry-dock. As soon as the vessel's outer hull nears completion, the entire structure will be raised from the seafloor. We'll need to wait a couple of weeks for the hull to drain out, then we can start hosing off any salt residue and reclaim anything useful from this washout such as salt, stranded fish or whatever. Once that's done, we can start making the inner hull spaces habitable.
More than anything else, we needed all the warm bodies that the colony can muster. While it would be possible for me and the crew to complete this project ourselves, there's only so long the colonists might be prepared to sit on Margaritaville's sun deck, idly sipping Fluffy Ducks and Mai-Tais. Far better to have every able body pitching in for this one. If nothing else, this activity would prevent certain idle hands in the colony turning to rather less than helpful occupations. Fortunately, Belters are well accustomed to earning their keep on (or inside) their home soil. However, I might have to draw the line at using fifteen-year old reactor technicians.
NO BLOODY WAY.
Four hours later, we gratefully rejoined the tail end of the celebration. As the festivities started to wind down at last, the committee chair called for silence and proposed a simple toast.
Suffice it to say, there were some very sore heads the following morning. Polyakov's in particular.
About an hour or so after announcing that phase one of the Borealis Project would commence the next day, Polyakov reeled unsteadily up to our table, looking very much the worse for wear. Héloise grimaced disgustedly but wisely resisted speaking her mind, at least on this occasion.
"All hail The Great Ss-selkirk, saviour of Human... manity!" He slurred, raising his beer mug in a mocking salute. Wretchedly drunk or no, there was more than a hint of malice in his expression. "We are lucky to be saved by this fine robot who talks to monsters as old friends. Now we have a pravda bogatyr to lead us, not a handful of idiots and a shlyukha with big ambitions."
I leaned forward warningly. "Let it bide, man. Go to your quarters and sleep it off. You're probably about to say something you'll regret later."
He snorted derisively, spraying me with Creepvine beer. At this point, I couldn't care less what else this lout had to say. Rather than make an issue of it, I calmly wiped my face with a napkin and continued the conversation he'd interrupted. Unfortunately, this action completely failed to defuse the situation. Polyakov seemed to think about it for a second or two, swore loudly and slammed his mug down on the table. He lurched forward unsteadily and thrust his troll's face toward mine.
Before I could act, something whistled through the air above my head. Polyakov roared in agony and staggered backwards, both hands clutching at his face. Thin rivulets of blood dribbled between his fingers, spattering the deck as he blundered about, still howling in pain. Bewildered, I turned to face Héloise. Her dark smile was perfectly serene. It was a smile of complete satisfaction.
"Bloody hell! What the photon just happened?" I cried.
"Me. He insulted me, so I hit him. Yes, I know you were about to defend my honour, although I am quite capable of doing this for myself. Besides, this has been a very long time coming. Don't deny me this one small comfort, Chérie."
IANTO and JUNO were already at Polyakov's side, attempting to examine his injuries. Exasperated by his erratic stumbling and a stubborn refusal to stand still, JUNO forcibly restrained him while IANTO peeled away one of his hands to obtain a better look.
"His nose is badly broken, Captain. Soft tissue damage and bone fragmentation effects are consistent with an apparent blunt force impact of 2.5 kilonewtons." IANTO announced. "However, I am still unable to determine the nature of the weapon used by Mme. Maida."
"You were sitting beside me the whole time..." I said incredulously, "What did you hit him with?"
Héloise chuckled quietly. "This."
A length of ornately-plaited hair rose slowly behind her, then arched menacingly above her head like a scorpion's sting. I watched in fascination as its conical bronze tip swayed rhythmically to and fro, as if searching for a target. Suddenly, it lashed out with terrifying speed, smashing Polyakov's discarded beer mug into a glittering spray of pulverised polycarbonate. According to the numbers, Polyakov was lucky to still have a head on his shoulders.
"It's called a musubime. A Guardian's Knot. The hair braided around it is my own, but it was my mother's melee weapon of choice. She passed it on to me. Now it is my weapon of choice. I chose."
"Ah. This explains the mysterious cyber-ware I detected during our first meeting." I said mildly. "Not that I'd have mentioned it, of course. I'm not exactly one to cast aspersions on such matters. Even so, I've never seen a weapon like this before. I certainly wouldn't want to be on the receiving end."
Héloise smiled grimly. "Consider yourself lucky, monsieur. Armin Mikhailovitch is also blessed with good fortune tonight. After all, I did let him live."
Wordlessly, I took her hands in mine and held them. Something about her carefully controlled expression told me everything I needed to know. I've always found it difficult to find the most appropriate words to say in similar situations, so I chose to say nothing. I could only guess at the history between Héloise and Polyakov. Even with a top-notch android CPU helpfully putting my scattered thoughts in order, there's no point in running the numbers on that unspoken question.
This was another one of life's little knife-edge moments. One wrong word, one single gesture taken out of context would ruin everything. There is a correct time and place for playing The White Knight, and this definitely wasn't it.
Héloise tugged playfully at my hands, breaking the tension before it could grow more noticeable.
"You are too quiet, my Captain." she said firmly. "Far too serious. We should be dancing. Come."
IANTO and JUNO returned just in time to watch me making a complete fool of myself. I've never been much of a dancer, and the thought of letting the CPU kick in seemed too much like cheating. Naturally, I found myself instantly outclassed by Héloise's spirited version of belly-dancing. After only five minutes of utterly shambolic effort, I stood to one side and clapped in time to the music. DIGBY appeared to be enjoying himself immensely, much to the delight of his gorgeous Belter companion. Presently, the other two AIs strode confidently onto the dance floor and truly started to carve it up. Héloise beckoned seductively, calling me back. To rub salt into my wounds, JUNO followed Héloise's lead, activating her holofield to display traditional Middle-Eastern dancing garb.
"Mutinous dogs." I muttered. Wet blanket mode disengaged.
After a very late breakfast, I stopped by the medical bay to check on Polyakov. The few hours of daylight that remained were completely down the tubes, since most of the colonists weren't in the mood for anything else but sleep. Even the indomitable Héloise had refused to budge from her cosy cocoon, mumbling sleepy entreaties and lukewarm threats as I reluctantly dressed and departed.
IANTO had been able to reconstruct his shattered nose, although the collateral damage to the surrounding soft tissue was something that would require time to heal more than anything else. Even after extensive sub-dermal regeneration therapy, Polyakov's face was still a grotesque mass of purple and yellow bruises. His eyes were a pair of swollen slits, their lids incapable of opening more than a few millimetres without causing excruciating pain. I stood in the doorway looking at this sorry excuse for a man, trying to see beyond his currently pathetic condition.
Not entirely sure what I was looking for, and I wasn't at all certain what I expected to find there. Polyakov didn't strike me as a fellow who had any redeeming qualities, so I felt a bit foolish for even bothering to look. In truth, Polyakov and Tomar were worlds apart. Tomar may have been totally insane at the end of it, although he truly believed in what he was doing. Polyakov is simply a common thug wrapped in the threadbare guise of a peace-keeper.
I think it's about time for another friendly chat.
Polyakov regained consciousness several hours later. His first reaction was to struggle weakly against the bed's restraint webbing. After a few minutes of grunting and futile straining against the near-unbreakable Kevlar bands, he simply gave up. By my reckoning, the outburst of furious yelling would start any minute now. Rather than let him raise a ruckus for no real reason, I poured out a beaker of water and carefully handed it to him. He flinched in near-panic, almost knocking the beaker out of my guiding hands.
"Who's there? Chert voz'mi! I can't see you!" He snarled.
"Just as well. I'm probably the last person you ever wanted to see, Gospodin." I said amiably.
Polyakov's expression soured. "Ah, hell. You've come to finish me off, Robot. I expected no less from you. You hide behind your machines, now you hide behind our women. I am thinking you were no real man even when you were alive. You disgust me, Selkirk."
"The feeling's entirely mutual, bratets. I must admit, I did briefly consider injecting you with an air-filled syringe as you lay there. Would have prevented a whole mess of future problems." I sighed wearily. "To be honest, I'm feeling a bit uncomfortable about the inordinate time I've spent dreaming up novel ways to snap your twig. I guess my humanity simulation subsystems might be acting up again. Still, here we are... What do you reckon, Armin Mikhailovitch? What should I do?"
"You don't have the guts to kill me, Selkirk. Any fool can see that. Your fairy story about this... Valkyrie Field apparat might have fooled the others, but not this one. It's just a cheap trick to control the workers, keep us all docile under the fist of our new robot masters, no?"
I tutted reproachfully, slowly shaking my head. "Don't be stupid. It's absolutely nothing to do with your half-arsed grasp of mouldy Marxist-Leninist dogma. You've missed the point entirely, it seems. We don't actually need any outside help with the Borealis Project. The only reason we've involved the colonists at all is to give them something to keep them occupied, something meaningful to work toward. A common goal. You're making it sound like we're running some kind of forced labour camp. How did you figure that one out? I'm genuinely curious how you reached this conclusion."
"A cage with golden bars is still a cage. A well-fed slave is still a slave." He answered sullenly.
I sighed with resignation. "Fine. Keep thinking that, Pally. So what happens when Borealis finally makes planetfall on Terra? Should I drive you out at whip's end, then set up a Creepvine plantation in the Caribbean? Work with me here, Armin. You are my only unqualified failure in this devious campaign to win the hearts and minds of your fellow colonists, only made possible by treating them with common decency. What am I doing so bloody poorly that you need to undermine my efforts?"
"You are treating us like cattle, like pets. True Men cannot live this way." Polyakov grunted.
"Is this another Cruel Robot Thing, Armin? Okay. Have it your way." I leaned over him just close enough to whisper. "I'm not even remotely human. In fact, since you brought up the Valkyrie Field, I'll tell you exactly how inhuman I really am beneath this amazingly lifelike polymer skin. Yes, the Valkyrie Field is real. You and your pack of shaved apes have been singled out for special treatment. If you die, you will indeed be reborn to learn from your mistakes. However, there's a catch... You are limited to only three lives each. You will also regenerate back in the Lava Castle. Take care, now."
A week later, we were ready to begin work in earnest. Roughly a third of the colonists who volunteered for the Borealis Project had to be gently turned away for reasons of physical suitability. Our youngest volunteer is 12 years old, the oldest, 85. Many of the rejected volunteers were suffering from serious vitamin deficiency-related conditions. Given time, most of them would respond well to medical treatment and a greatly improved diet, although we were unwilling to expose these people to the harsh environmental conditions they would encounter while working on this project. JUNO and IANTO have been extremely particular about their selection criteria.
I've designed an improved dive suit and SCUBA system to make conditions a wee bit more tolerable for our human helpers. The dive suit is electrically heated and reinforced with a flexible polarised ceramic that has similar properties to chitin, offering superb protection against most of the hostile marine life on Manannán, although a Reaper might find its texture slightly more chewy than usual. The suit's armour reacts instantly to any increase in external pressure, solidifying to prevent penetration or crushing injuries, such as might be encountered during a Stalker attack. The suit is also equipped with a personal electrical defence field, powered by the same compact isotopic power source that runs the SCUBA rig's various onboard systems. It's nowhere near as powerful as the Seamoth EDF, although there's more than enough juice to give a predator a series of hefty zaps.
The new SCUBA gear is something that I'm particularly proud of. It's an artificial gill/rebreather system that extracts oxygen directly from seawater, using a combination of electrolysis and highly efficient molecular filters. The O2 is mixed with precisely monitored and adjusted proportions of nitrogen and hydrogen to buffer the breathing mix, preventing oxygen toxicity effects at extreme depths. Its endurance rating is well in excess of eight hours at a depth of 500 metres, and post-dive decompression is significantly reduced. The whole unit is about the size of a hiker's day-pack, and its mass is approximately the same as a single high capacity dive tank. I've tested this rig to 2,500 metres and the tech is absolutely rock-solid, I'm rather pleased to say.
Naturally, we've equipped the colonists with their own Cyclops and a fleet of six Seamoths. I've given considerable thought to the question of whether they should have ExoSuits as well, ultimately deciding that this would constitute a huge security risk. Even a Gen I ExoSuit can be used as a deadly weapon. If Polyakov ever got his greasy mitts on one, there's no telling what kind of havoc he could wreak. Speaking of which, our resident trouble-maker has finally risen from his enforced repose and is currently sulking in his security centre. The Blue Meanies have been tasked with patrolling the seabed around Kaori-san no-shima, so those bruisers are effectively out of play for the time being.
It's said that the Devil finds work for idle hands, although JUNO is a far more efficient HR manager.
Our first day on Skull Island was spent enlarging the island and reinforcing its foundations. DIGBY and I were working topside, constructing the island's support facilities, reactor containment building and preparing the proposed site of the deuterium/tritium extraction plant. JUNO and IANTO were working underwater, mainly supervising and assisting in the colonists' terraforming operation, but also keeping a sharp eye out for any wandering wildlife. Aegis and Red Dragon cruised continuous patrol circuits around the island under their remote control, ready to repel any potentially hostile life forms that approached too closely. By day's end, there was something substantial and tangible to show for our combined efforts. A crucial first step has been taken without incident. One milestone behind us in the long journey we've commenced.
The three juvenile Reapers Moe, Larry and Curly have recently set up their bachelor pad 750 metres NNE of Skull Island. Until we can get the dry dock built, I've had to assign all four of our Cyclops to perimeter patrols. There have been no serious incursions as yet, but I'm fairly certain that all this human activity has piqued their curiosity. That's all we need. Three young bucks full of pith and vinegar, all out to make a name for themselves. If there's any level of complex communication between Reapers, you can bet your last Credit that Daddy Ahab's been sharing his war stories with these guys.
Could make life rather interesting in these parts.
Suffice it to say, the colonists have heard them kicking up a fuss over yonder, and they're none too pleased about it. They've never actually seen a Reaper in the flesh yet, but those distant roars begin to sound awful close when you've got your back turned toward an open ocean. Having been in similar situations myself, I can't say as I blame them for getting a collective attack of the willies. Rather than place our volunteers under too much stress, I called a halt to construction on the dry dock while we set up automated defence systems. The dry dock would also need some defensive firepower of its own, although that issue can be addressed while we're building its support gantries.
Another significant milestone. The deuterium extractors are up and running. The first production cycle yielded 40 litres of deuterium, supercooled to a cryogenic liquid state and transferred to one of the island's high-pressure storage tanks. Although that initial product discharge seems barely enough to create a decent puddle, slightly more than 2,500,000 litres of seawater had to pass through the extraction processors to produce those 40 litres. Tritium production was even more modest. The conversion process we're using requires ten thousand litres of heavy water to produce 10 kilograms of tritium. These quantities might seem ridiculously trivial, but it all eventually adds up. As we Scots say, 'Many a mickle makes a muckle.' This is why fusion fuel production has commenced well in advance of construction on Borealis. It's a damnably slow process.
I'm certain there's a smug armchair Nobel Laureate out there having a quiet chuckle over our piddling little operation. Sure, we can easily build more reactors and speed up the fuel production, although when dead fish start popping up on the surface because we've jacked up the local water temperature, Father of Tides will be sending us a rather pointed 'Please Explain' note. That's something I'd rather avoid. We'll simply content ourselves with running only four reactors and play nicely with the planet for a change.
Although I had the design of Borealis completely worked out by now, there was still one detail that caused me no end of grief. While trawling through the mass of data I'd salvaged from Aurora over a century ago, I encountered a fragment of some command-level mission briefing mentioning the construction of a Phase Gate in the Alphard system. I can only assume that this was Aurora's original primary mission in this system, and all that under-the-table business with the STARFISH mining platform was merely a sneaky little money-spinner for Alterra and Torgaljin Corp. Unfortunately, all technical data on Phase Gate construction had been corrupted beyond any hope of recovery.
Maybe it was just as well, because the technology involved was waaay over my former pay grade. As it was, I knew just enough about Phase Gate theory to convince me that this tech was best left to the experts. Construction's not the problem. Calibration and temporal-spatial alignment of Phase Gates requires considerably more finesse.
Definitely not a job for a lowly Spanner Monkey like me.
Comments
That's basically what happened.
"This large creature is the Sea Emperor. To the best of my knowledge, he is the most powerful creature on this planet. Those slightly smaller sonar contacts are most likely to be Sea Dragon leviathans, unless they're something I haven't seen before. Entirely possible, given that evolution has gone into hyperdrive since humans arrived here. Your base defence systems have been specifically programmed to grant these creatures safe passage. The creatures known as Warpers are also guaranteed safe passage. Unless this base is directly attacked by any of these creatures, your ALECTO artificial intelligence construct will not consider them to be a threat. However, if they do attack, it will respond accordingly. Manual weapon controls are also disabled during a peaceful encounter. These measures are non-negotiable; your continued survival depends on it."
Polyakov roared with rage. He rushed forward, sending several colonists sprawling on the deck.
"You've killed us all! Those monsters will be on us in seconds, and we're completely defenceless!"
"Piss off, malaka!" I snapped. "There's four Cyclops standing guard out there, plus four ExoSuits armed with Gauss cannons. Besides, if anything does go wrong, the entire defence grid will automatically kick in. Get this through your thick skull... Those leviathans are not on an attack run!"
"You'd bet our lives on that?" Polyakov sneered, jutting his jaw aggressively.
"I'll go you one better. I'd bet my own life on it." I shoved him aside, and sprinted for the main airlock.
Just as I was about to open the inner airlock door, Héloise caught up and grabbed my arm.
"I'm coming with you." Her expression was pure granite, as if daring me to argue with her.
I smiled, caressing her cheek tenderly. "Wouldn't have it any other way, love. You can speak for the colony in person. I'll establish a three-way link so you can communicate with your fellow committee members in real-time. Suit up and follow my lead. Everything's going to be fine."
When Héloise was kitted up and ready to go, the airlock cycled and we swam out together.
All four Cyclops stood waiting silently inside the inner defence ring. I silently signalled the crew as we passed. JUNO, IANTO and DIGBY confirmed that they were ready for action, particularly if this meeting were to suddenly stray into unfriendly territory. Héloise's heart rate rose with increasing apprehension as we swam beyond the relative safety of this area. As we swam, I reached out and took her hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. In the blue-green distance beyond, I could see the immense, majestic shapes of leviathans moving slowly towards us.
"Up ahead. Three hundred and fifty metres out. Relax, dear heart. There's nothing to be afraid of. What we're doing is regarded as a genuine gesture of respect. He's probably well aware of the subs and defence turrets behind us, but we're completely unarmed, at least to his way of thinking. We'll be standing before Him without our Shells. It's kind of a big deal to them."
Héloise froze. Ten metres ahead of us, a roughly man-sized patch of water began to swirl and boil.
"Warper." I said quietly.
The Warper materialised, weaving its forelimbs in a formalised gesture of greeting. Héloise and I responded with appropriate motions and colour changes to our holographic camouflage. Once these social niceties had been observed, the Warper addressed us in a more genial manner.
"Warm seas, friends. This One brings words from Father of Tides. He come for see Lost Ones from the Dark Place. Father of Tides see Lost One Shell has many sharp spines. Metal Talons here. Not come for Lost Ones. Father of Tides come for see and talk Lost Ones. Not for break Lost Ones Shell."
Hmm. Seems like our defence measures are worrying Father of Tides. 'Metal Talons' - That could only mean our Cyclops fleet. The 'spines' are obviously the colony's defence turrets. I'd better show that we're willing to meet him halfway here, rather than putting on an obvious display of strength solely for the colonists' benefit. Even so, I let them know that the Sea Emperor's intentions are entirely peaceful before standing down the defence system.
"JUNO, withdraw all units. Regroup on the surface 200 metres west of Kaori-san no-shima."
"Affirmative, Captain. Fleet is underway to new coordinates, as ordered."
"Metal Talons hear Father of Tides. Lost Ones greet Father of Tides. Swim free, friends." I signed.
A meeting with Father of Tides is an awe-inspiring experience. As the five leviathans resumed their stately approach, Héloise gripped my hand even more tightly. I could only imagine what was happening inside the colony now. Of course, I could tap into its security cameras to take a quick peek later, but I needed to stay entirely focused on the conduct of this encounter. You don't get too many chances in a lifetime, even an extended one, to hobnob with an entity this powerful.
"Warm seas, Father of Tides. Your (presence) in This Place feeds us." We signed respectfully.
The Sea Emperor inclined his ponderous head gently, acknowledging our greeting.
"Warm seas, Lost Ones. This One is here to see. Your Shell is strong. Where do Lost Ones swim?"
"Lost Ones in new Shell for many tides, then swim free. Come above-water and walk free."
His expression shifted slightly, an almost quizzical look forming on his immense face.
"For why? Lost Ones not swim? Above-water break Lost One shell!" He signed incredulously.
"Lost Ones from above-water. Above-water is Lost Ones first Shell. Born in this place." I explained.
"This one see now. Lost Ones walk above-water, not swim. Different. Not like you. You swim free."
"This One walk and swim with Father of Tides. Give his words to Lost Ones."
"You are Father of Lost Ones?" He inquired.
"This One not Father. This One was Lost One all alone. Sky Shell was broken." I admitted.
"Not alone. You have mate. You show Lost Ones way from Dark Place, make new Great Shell. Give words.You are Father." He signed emphatically.
I guess the colonists aren't gonna start worshipping him right?
Assuming that Father of Tides was speaking figuratively, I suppose that was a reasonable statement for him to make. When it comes down to brass tacks, I guess we're essentially in the same business. The only difference is that He has an entire planet to look after, and I have the Lost Ones. If it came down to a question of scale, the Sea Emperor definitely has the more difficult job. Although I've always intended this arrangement to be strictly hands-off once the colony re-establishes normal operations, I have a distinct feeling that I won't be able to remain entirely uninvolved with its daily affairs. Things have become slightly more complicated now. It's far too early to tell where this relationship with Héloise is heading, and there will always be some situations in the colony that will require intervention. This is something I'll need to discuss at considerable length with the committee.
We swam slowly toward the base. Father of Tides seemed particularly fascinated by the actual structure of the facility; how its foundations and structural layout conformed to the underwater features of Kaori-san no-shima. This was a conscious design decision, since the base's total structural mass and its component buoyancy factors had been calculated to maintain a perfect equilibrium with the floating island itself. Too much upthrust concentrated in any one location could destabilize the entire island, so we found it necessary to spread the base over a relatively large area.
Father of Tides swam closer to the base, his forward motion slowing to a careful, considerate crawl. Presently, we found ourselves hovering in front of the main bridge observation port, less than 20 metres from the closest structure. The four Dragon Leviathans hovered nearby, keeping watchful eyes on the ocean around us. A large knot of colonists had gathered in the bridge to witness this encounter. From what I could see, some were gazing out from the viewport in rapt fascination, while others drew back in terror as Father of Tides slowly approached.
"Warm seas, Lost Ones. This One greets you. Your Shell is strong. Not fear This One." He gestured.
"Héloise, does the committee have anything they'd like to say to Father of Tides? Now's the time."
She relayed the question, and the committee's reply was surprisingly prompt.
"Over to you, love. You have the floor." I said quietly.
Héloise swam into position and activated her camouflage field, becoming a Warper once more.
"Warm seas, Father of Tides. Lost Ones greet you as friends. Lost Ones (will) not swim as our Fathers swim in Dark Place, many tides gone. Not break Shell of This Place, not break Shell of Father of Tides. Give your words, and we swim free (with) Father of Tides."
This speech appeared to please the Sea Emperor immensely. He emitted a low rumble of approval.
"Many tides (from now), Sky Shell come for Lost Ones, take Lost Ones (away) back to first home. Lost Ones make new Sky Shell. Where Father of Tides swim? Break Sky Shell?" Héloise signed.
Good question. Basically, Héloise had asked whether Father of Tides would allow a Terran rescue ship to land sometime in the future, or permit the colonists to launch their own rescue vessel. Everything depended on how Father of Tides chose to respond to this crucial question.
Everything.
Just what I wanted to hear. Father of Tides has given his explicit word that He will not interfere with any rescue attempt. Given that it would be in the planet's best interests to allow us to leave, He could not have answered otherwise. To put it mildly, this meeting would have lost any semblance of cordiality if he had refused.
Something must have caught the Sea Emperor's attention. We had been swimming slowly alongside the colony for some time now, when He unexpectedly turned into one of the submarine access corridors we'd left clear when designing the base. The only thing of any interest here was one of the base's primary mariculture facilities, although I hadn't specifically planned on taking our official tour in that direction. Still, Father of Tides wanted to see what He wanted to see, and I wasn't about to deny Him this opportunity. If anything, it would give Him a better idea of how Terrans are able to survive here.
Naturally, I was entirely mindful of a faint possibility that this visit could be some sort of covert intelligence-gathering operation, albeit one cleverly disguised as a diplomatic affair. That's why I'm being extremely particular about not showing Him such things as weapon systems, power generators and life support systems. I'm not irretrievably stupid, you know.
We halted in front of the Creepvine beds. Father of Tides swam closer to examine the minor forest we had transplanted here, his immense face bathed in golden light that radiated from myriad seed clusters floating gently in the current. His face wore an almost thoughtful expression, as if he were attempting to fathom the logic behind this arrangement. I swam over to one of the plants and severed a good-sized bunch of its tough foliage with my diamond blade. Normally, I'd either feed a bundle like this into a bioreactor or process it with a Fabricator to make fibre mesh. However, a simple demonstration of one of its uses would suffice. I picked a strand out the bundle, rolled it briskly between my palms to consolidate its fibres into a rough twist, then repeated this process a few more times. Once I had enough material, I joined each section together to form a short length of fairly serviceable cord. Ably assisted by the delightful Héloise, I demonstrated the difference in strength between a raw Creepvine strand and a basically worked cord, and it seemed to please Father of Tides no end. Consider this your first lesson in Technology 101, my good Sir.
Similarly, He displayed considerable interest in the colony's fish farms. The base had one primary multi-level fish farm, in addition to a number of smaller containment modules scattered throughout the complex. This is a precautionary measure to ensure that the colony's food stocks could be maintained if anything went wrong in the main fish farm. Again, I demonstrated the structure's purpose by catching a pair of Spadefish and depositing them in one of its breeding tanks. Father of Tides was able to watch the entire process through one of the facility's viewports. Before exiting the holding tank, I caught four other Spadefish and brought them back out into open water. I released all four in front of Father of Tides.
"Lost Ones eat some, give some back to Father of Tides. More to eat for all in This Place." I signed.
Congratulations, Father of Tides. You have completed Lesson Number Two: 'How Do I Aquaculture?'
No cliffhanger intended.
Sometimes, it's just the end of the page.
"JUNO, please designate these four subjects as 'Dragon Leviathans', encode individuals as Běifēng, Nánfēng, Dōngfēng and Xīfēng. Collective reference ID to be encoded as: 'Four Winds'." I said.
"Affirmative, Sir." JUNO responded.
In return for sitting politely as we took our happy snaps, Father of Tides now wanted to see something that I personally felt might be a wee bit too much. I held a hasty discussion with JUNO and Co. then hand-balled the same question over to the committee. Although there were some minor reservations, the general consensus was that it should be okay to demonstrate a relatively minor example of our advanced technology. After introducing Father of Tides to the concepts of basic crafting and farming, it's a natural consequence that he would want to see the tools we use.
"Make new Shell. Show this one." He gestured.
I swam over to one of the island's smaller stalactites, beckoning Him to follow. After checking that my Builder tool had a stable matter transmission link signal, I constructed a group of four foundation plates and placed a basic habitation module upon them. After adding an entrance hatch, I entered the module and started adding interior fixtures, starting off with a couple of viewports so that Father of Tides could watch the whole process. After allowing sufficient time for the Sea Emperor to process what had taken place, I commenced dismantling everything I had just built. A few minutes later, absolutely nothing remained of the structure.
"Shell is gone. Where Shell swim away This Place?"
Rather than explain that all components had returned to storage bunkers in the base via a matter transmission beam, I simply held up the Builder and signed that it had 'sent all metal back to first home'. Fortunately, this simplistic explanation appeared to satisfy Father of Tides' insatiable curiosity, or I'd still be figuring out how to break it down into something he would understand. He even came up with an apt name that described the Builder tool in Warper speech... 'Shell Egg'.
"Lost Ones leave This Place for first home, take all broken Shell away. This Place swim free (again)."
From what I could gather from his various expressions, body language and vocalisations, Father of Tides seems mightily impressed by all that he has seen today. Not so sure about the Four Winds, though. They're kind of hard to read. Damnably inscrutable, in fact.
"You feed our minds, Father of Shells. We go now. Warm seas, friends. Swim free." He gestured at last.
Héloise and I respectfully responded in kind, remaining there until Father of Tides and his retinue disappeared into the blue-green haze beyond. I only hope that we have not bootstrapped this planet beyond its current capacity to evolve naturally.
Only time will tell.
Selkirk: Uuhmm....
"Father of Shells?" Héloise snickered, seconds before dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.
"Thanks for the reality check, lass. " I grumped. "Nice job slashing my Floaties, by the way."
"So, Father of Tides considers you his equal now? I wouldn't want you getting a big head, Chérie."
I shrugged, laughing it off. "I would have preferred 'Father of Metal'. That would be wicked brutal. Still, I'm not complaining. It's not every day you get a chance to parlay with a planetary genius and live to tell the tale. This one's definitely going into the family album."
"I am still shaking, see? I cannot believe I have done this!" Héloise said excitedly. "You were so calm, so magnifique! I almost shamed myself when he came close. He is very frightening at first, yet so gentle inside... Just like you. You are my own gigantic sea-beast, and... I love you so very much!"
I laughed, not at Héloise's urgent declaration of love, but at the sheer incongruity of this situation. She told me this suspended halfway between Heaven and Hell, surrounded by an infinitely hostile ocean and immediately following an unbelievable encounter with an alien demigod. If that's not the right time to tell someone that you love them, then you obviously aren't living in the moment.
"I love you too, mon chère Héloise." I said softly.
We emerged from the airlock to the sound of jubilant cheering and wild applause. The colonists thronged around us, forming a gauntlet of outstretched hands eager to congratulate the two of us. Somehow, we managed to work our way into the bridge. Although it was awful tempting to simply bask in their adulation just a spell longer, there was some serious business to address first. I held up my hand, signalling for silence. Gradually, the general hubbub died down to a reasonable level.
"Thank you. First of all, I'd like to offer my thanks to Mme. Maida and the colony committee for their valuable contributions during this historic meeting. I could not have accomplished this mission without your unwavering support. Secondly, the issue of building your own rescue ship was raised during our conversation with Father of Tides. This is an undertaking that I have also given serious thought to recently, although you should understand that this project will require considerable planning, research and pure physical effort before it ever becomes a reality. Now, consider this next question carefully. Once we get started, there will be absolutely no turning back. It's an all or nothing proposition that requires total commitment... Do you want to return home?"
Somewhere in the thunderous roar of approval that followed, I distinctly heard someone say 'Yes'.
Most definitely.
Naturally, the entire colony kicked immediately into party mode. There was no stopping them. Héloise and I deftly cut the other committee members out of the herd, hustling them into one of the base admin rooms for some serious talk. Presently, we were joined by JUNO, IANTO and DIGBY. Now we could begin planning this mammoth project in earnest.
Plot twist!!: Sabotage thanks to Polyakov and Co.!!! Ambush thanks to the Reaper Clans!!! Polyakov and the Reapers team up!!! A wild, living Titan Leviathan appears!!!!
I was thinking a war between the sea emp and the reapers and such. Honestly, at this point, I would have just sent Polyakov & co. back to the old base. They want to run things? Fine, they can run things all by themselves.
Fortunately, Skull Island is entirely artificial, and its waters are almost completely devoid of any significant life. It's a little something I put together with a spare weekend and a Terraformer. The island is currently home to the four neutron accelerator silos we removed from Aurora, plus a couple of tonnes of the nastier elements on the Periodic Table locked away and perfectly safe in a purpose-built HAZMAT facility. As a bonus, we can make good use of everything that's stored there. What we can't use straight off the shelves, we simply feed into a nuclear transmutation furnace and convert it into something far more useful.
As you already know, large starships are typically constructed in an orbital dry dock. Micro-gravity is a huge help when you're trying to fit those jigsaw pieces together. We have the next best thing. An ocean. The highly complex nature of this project precludes the use of standard nano-lathe construction techniques. We can't simply make several large VAM gantries, link them together in software then feed the system a whole bunch of raw materials, cross our fingers and hope that it eventually spits out an Antares-class starship. It doesn't work that way, I'm afraid.
This build will have to be done strictly old-school. Lay the keel first, then build up an entire inner structure girder by girder. Install bulkheads, walkways and rooms as you go, adding fittings, pipe-work and power conduits exactly where they are needed. Every component will have to be placed entirely by hand. I admit, it's a construction method more suited to the glory days of Harland & Wolff shipyard in Belfast, but it's the only way we'll get this project off the ground, so to speak.
We'll be adding one minor twist to this method. This ship will be built in a submersible dry-dock. As soon as the vessel's outer hull nears completion, the entire structure will be raised from the seafloor. We'll need to wait a couple of weeks for the hull to drain out, then we can start hosing off any salt residue and reclaim anything useful from this washout such as salt, stranded fish or whatever. Once that's done, we can start making the inner hull spaces habitable.
More than anything else, we needed all the warm bodies that the colony can muster. While it would be possible for me and the crew to complete this project ourselves, there's only so long the colonists might be prepared to sit on Margaritaville's sun deck, idly sipping Fluffy Ducks and Mai-Tais. Far better to have every able body pitching in for this one. If nothing else, this activity would prevent certain idle hands in the colony turning to rather less than helpful occupations. Fortunately, Belters are well accustomed to earning their keep on (or inside) their home soil. However, I might have to draw the line at using fifteen-year old reactor technicians.
NO BLOODY WAY.
Four hours later, we gratefully rejoined the tail end of the celebration. As the festivities started to wind down at last, the committee chair called for silence and proposed a simple toast.
"To Borealis!"
I was correct!!!!! YAY!!!!!
About an hour or so after announcing that phase one of the Borealis Project would commence the next day, Polyakov reeled unsteadily up to our table, looking very much the worse for wear. Héloise grimaced disgustedly but wisely resisted speaking her mind, at least on this occasion.
"All hail The Great Ss-selkirk, saviour of Human... manity!" He slurred, raising his beer mug in a mocking salute. Wretchedly drunk or no, there was more than a hint of malice in his expression. "We are lucky to be saved by this fine robot who talks to monsters as old friends. Now we have a pravda bogatyr to lead us, not a handful of idiots and a shlyukha with big ambitions."
I leaned forward warningly. "Let it bide, man. Go to your quarters and sleep it off. You're probably about to say something you'll regret later."
He snorted derisively, spraying me with Creepvine beer. At this point, I couldn't care less what else this lout had to say. Rather than make an issue of it, I calmly wiped my face with a napkin and continued the conversation he'd interrupted. Unfortunately, this action completely failed to defuse the situation. Polyakov seemed to think about it for a second or two, swore loudly and slammed his mug down on the table. He lurched forward unsteadily and thrust his troll's face toward mine.
Before I could act, something whistled through the air above my head. Polyakov roared in agony and staggered backwards, both hands clutching at his face. Thin rivulets of blood dribbled between his fingers, spattering the deck as he blundered about, still howling in pain. Bewildered, I turned to face Héloise. Her dark smile was perfectly serene. It was a smile of complete satisfaction.
"Bloody hell! What the photon just happened?" I cried.
"Me. He insulted me, so I hit him. Yes, I know you were about to defend my honour, although I am quite capable of doing this for myself. Besides, this has been a very long time coming. Don't deny me this one small comfort, Chérie."
IANTO and JUNO were already at Polyakov's side, attempting to examine his injuries. Exasperated by his erratic stumbling and a stubborn refusal to stand still, JUNO forcibly restrained him while IANTO peeled away one of his hands to obtain a better look.
"His nose is badly broken, Captain. Soft tissue damage and bone fragmentation effects are consistent with an apparent blunt force impact of 2.5 kilonewtons." IANTO announced. "However, I am still unable to determine the nature of the weapon used by Mme. Maida."
"You were sitting beside me the whole time..." I said incredulously, "What did you hit him with?"
Héloise chuckled quietly. "This."
A length of ornately-plaited hair rose slowly behind her, then arched menacingly above her head like a scorpion's sting. I watched in fascination as its conical bronze tip swayed rhythmically to and fro, as if searching for a target. Suddenly, it lashed out with terrifying speed, smashing Polyakov's discarded beer mug into a glittering spray of pulverised polycarbonate. According to the numbers, Polyakov was lucky to still have a head on his shoulders.
"It's called a musubime. A Guardian's Knot. The hair braided around it is my own, but it was my mother's melee weapon of choice. She passed it on to me. Now it is my weapon of choice. I chose."
There were some fairly subtle hints.
"Devs, put this in, please!"
Are you sure you want to hear this everytime you take a swig?
Nah, it doesn't work like that, man. I take a swig of my Creepvine Beer... and then, well, my suit's PDA starts to sound like this nasty b-tch:
No contest.
One withering stare from JUNO would be sufficient to put that Windows 10 Beta in her place.
Héloise smiled grimly. "Consider yourself lucky, monsieur. Armin Mikhailovitch is also blessed with good fortune tonight. After all, I did let him live."
Wordlessly, I took her hands in mine and held them. Something about her carefully controlled expression told me everything I needed to know. I've always found it difficult to find the most appropriate words to say in similar situations, so I chose to say nothing. I could only guess at the history between Héloise and Polyakov. Even with a top-notch android CPU helpfully putting my scattered thoughts in order, there's no point in running the numbers on that unspoken question.
This was another one of life's little knife-edge moments. One wrong word, one single gesture taken out of context would ruin everything. There is a correct time and place for playing The White Knight, and this definitely wasn't it.
Héloise tugged playfully at my hands, breaking the tension before it could grow more noticeable.
"You are too quiet, my Captain." she said firmly. "Far too serious. We should be dancing. Come."
IANTO and JUNO returned just in time to watch me making a complete fool of myself. I've never been much of a dancer, and the thought of letting the CPU kick in seemed too much like cheating. Naturally, I found myself instantly outclassed by Héloise's spirited version of belly-dancing. After only five minutes of utterly shambolic effort, I stood to one side and clapped in time to the music. DIGBY appeared to be enjoying himself immensely, much to the delight of his gorgeous Belter companion. Presently, the other two AIs strode confidently onto the dance floor and truly started to carve it up. Héloise beckoned seductively, calling me back. To rub salt into my wounds, JUNO followed Héloise's lead, activating her holofield to display traditional Middle-Eastern dancing garb.
"Mutinous dogs." I muttered. Wet blanket mode disengaged.
After a very late breakfast, I stopped by the medical bay to check on Polyakov. The few hours of daylight that remained were completely down the tubes, since most of the colonists weren't in the mood for anything else but sleep. Even the indomitable Héloise had refused to budge from her cosy cocoon, mumbling sleepy entreaties and lukewarm threats as I reluctantly dressed and departed.
IANTO had been able to reconstruct his shattered nose, although the collateral damage to the surrounding soft tissue was something that would require time to heal more than anything else. Even after extensive sub-dermal regeneration therapy, Polyakov's face was still a grotesque mass of purple and yellow bruises. His eyes were a pair of swollen slits, their lids incapable of opening more than a few millimetres without causing excruciating pain. I stood in the doorway looking at this sorry excuse for a man, trying to see beyond his currently pathetic condition.
Not entirely sure what I was looking for, and I wasn't at all certain what I expected to find there. Polyakov didn't strike me as a fellow who had any redeeming qualities, so I felt a bit foolish for even bothering to look. In truth, Polyakov and Tomar were worlds apart. Tomar may have been totally insane at the end of it, although he truly believed in what he was doing. Polyakov is simply a common thug wrapped in the threadbare guise of a peace-keeper.
I think it's about time for another friendly chat.
"Who's there? Chert voz'mi! I can't see you!" He snarled.
"Just as well. I'm probably the last person you ever wanted to see, Gospodin." I said amiably.
Polyakov's expression soured. "Ah, hell. You've come to finish me off, Robot. I expected no less from you. You hide behind your machines, now you hide behind our women. I am thinking you were no real man even when you were alive. You disgust me, Selkirk."
"The feeling's entirely mutual, bratets. I must admit, I did briefly consider injecting you with an air-filled syringe as you lay there. Would have prevented a whole mess of future problems." I sighed wearily. "To be honest, I'm feeling a bit uncomfortable about the inordinate time I've spent dreaming up novel ways to snap your twig. I guess my humanity simulation subsystems might be acting up again. Still, here we are... What do you reckon, Armin Mikhailovitch? What should I do?"
"You don't have the guts to kill me, Selkirk. Any fool can see that. Your fairy story about this... Valkyrie Field apparat might have fooled the others, but not this one. It's just a cheap trick to control the workers, keep us all docile under the fist of our new robot masters, no?"
I tutted reproachfully, slowly shaking my head. "Don't be stupid. It's absolutely nothing to do with your half-arsed grasp of mouldy Marxist-Leninist dogma. You've missed the point entirely, it seems. We don't actually need any outside help with the Borealis Project. The only reason we've involved the colonists at all is to give them something to keep them occupied, something meaningful to work toward. A common goal. You're making it sound like we're running some kind of forced labour camp. How did you figure that one out? I'm genuinely curious how you reached this conclusion."
"A cage with golden bars is still a cage. A well-fed slave is still a slave." He answered sullenly.
I sighed with resignation. "Fine. Keep thinking that, Pally. So what happens when Borealis finally makes planetfall on Terra? Should I drive you out at whip's end, then set up a Creepvine plantation in the Caribbean? Work with me here, Armin. You are my only unqualified failure in this devious campaign to win the hearts and minds of your fellow colonists, only made possible by treating them with common decency. What am I doing so bloody poorly that you need to undermine my efforts?"
"You are treating us like cattle, like pets. True Men cannot live this way." Polyakov grunted.
"Is this another Cruel Robot Thing, Armin? Okay. Have it your way." I leaned over him just close enough to whisper. "I'm not even remotely human. In fact, since you brought up the Valkyrie Field, I'll tell you exactly how inhuman I really am beneath this amazingly lifelike polymer skin. Yes, the Valkyrie Field is real. You and your pack of shaved apes have been singled out for special treatment. If you die, you will indeed be reborn to learn from your mistakes. However, there's a catch... You are limited to only three lives each. You will also regenerate back in the Lava Castle. Take care, now."
I've designed an improved dive suit and SCUBA system to make conditions a wee bit more tolerable for our human helpers. The dive suit is electrically heated and reinforced with a flexible polarised ceramic that has similar properties to chitin, offering superb protection against most of the hostile marine life on Manannán, although a Reaper might find its texture slightly more chewy than usual. The suit's armour reacts instantly to any increase in external pressure, solidifying to prevent penetration or crushing injuries, such as might be encountered during a Stalker attack. The suit is also equipped with a personal electrical defence field, powered by the same compact isotopic power source that runs the SCUBA rig's various onboard systems. It's nowhere near as powerful as the Seamoth EDF, although there's more than enough juice to give a predator a series of hefty zaps.
The new SCUBA gear is something that I'm particularly proud of. It's an artificial gill/rebreather system that extracts oxygen directly from seawater, using a combination of electrolysis and highly efficient molecular filters. The O2 is mixed with precisely monitored and adjusted proportions of nitrogen and hydrogen to buffer the breathing mix, preventing oxygen toxicity effects at extreme depths. Its endurance rating is well in excess of eight hours at a depth of 500 metres, and post-dive decompression is significantly reduced. The whole unit is about the size of a hiker's day-pack, and its mass is approximately the same as a single high capacity dive tank. I've tested this rig to 2,500 metres and the tech is absolutely rock-solid, I'm rather pleased to say.
Naturally, we've equipped the colonists with their own Cyclops and a fleet of six Seamoths. I've given considerable thought to the question of whether they should have ExoSuits as well, ultimately deciding that this would constitute a huge security risk. Even a Gen I ExoSuit can be used as a deadly weapon. If Polyakov ever got his greasy mitts on one, there's no telling what kind of havoc he could wreak. Speaking of which, our resident trouble-maker has finally risen from his enforced repose and is currently sulking in his security centre. The Blue Meanies have been tasked with patrolling the seabed around Kaori-san no-shima, so those bruisers are effectively out of play for the time being.
It's said that the Devil finds work for idle hands, although JUNO is a far more efficient HR manager.
Our first day on Skull Island was spent enlarging the island and reinforcing its foundations. DIGBY and I were working topside, constructing the island's support facilities, reactor containment building and preparing the proposed site of the deuterium/tritium extraction plant. JUNO and IANTO were working underwater, mainly supervising and assisting in the colonists' terraforming operation, but also keeping a sharp eye out for any wandering wildlife. Aegis and Red Dragon cruised continuous patrol circuits around the island under their remote control, ready to repel any potentially hostile life forms that approached too closely. By day's end, there was something substantial and tangible to show for our combined efforts. A crucial first step has been taken without incident. One milestone behind us in the long journey we've commenced.
Project Borealis is off to a flying start.
The three juvenile Reapers Moe, Larry and Curly have recently set up their bachelor pad 750 metres NNE of Skull Island. Until we can get the dry dock built, I've had to assign all four of our Cyclops to perimeter patrols. There have been no serious incursions as yet, but I'm fairly certain that all this human activity has piqued their curiosity. That's all we need. Three young bucks full of pith and vinegar, all out to make a name for themselves. If there's any level of complex communication between Reapers, you can bet your last Credit that Daddy Ahab's been sharing his war stories with these guys.
Could make life rather interesting in these parts.
Suffice it to say, the colonists have heard them kicking up a fuss over yonder, and they're none too pleased about it. They've never actually seen a Reaper in the flesh yet, but those distant roars begin to sound awful close when you've got your back turned toward an open ocean. Having been in similar situations myself, I can't say as I blame them for getting a collective attack of the willies. Rather than place our volunteers under too much stress, I called a halt to construction on the dry dock while we set up automated defence systems. The dry dock would also need some defensive firepower of its own, although that issue can be addressed while we're building its support gantries.
Another significant milestone. The deuterium extractors are up and running. The first production cycle yielded 40 litres of deuterium, supercooled to a cryogenic liquid state and transferred to one of the island's high-pressure storage tanks. Although that initial product discharge seems barely enough to create a decent puddle, slightly more than 2,500,000 litres of seawater had to pass through the extraction processors to produce those 40 litres. Tritium production was even more modest. The conversion process we're using requires ten thousand litres of heavy water to produce 10 kilograms of tritium. These quantities might seem ridiculously trivial, but it all eventually adds up. As we Scots say, 'Many a mickle makes a muckle.' This is why fusion fuel production has commenced well in advance of construction on Borealis. It's a damnably slow process.
I'm certain there's a smug armchair Nobel Laureate out there having a quiet chuckle over our piddling little operation. Sure, we can easily build more reactors and speed up the fuel production, although when dead fish start popping up on the surface because we've jacked up the local water temperature, Father of Tides will be sending us a rather pointed 'Please Explain' note. That's something I'd rather avoid. We'll simply content ourselves with running only four reactors and play nicely with the planet for a change.
Although I had the design of Borealis completely worked out by now, there was still one detail that caused me no end of grief. While trawling through the mass of data I'd salvaged from Aurora over a century ago, I encountered a fragment of some command-level mission briefing mentioning the construction of a Phase Gate in the Alphard system. I can only assume that this was Aurora's original primary mission in this system, and all that under-the-table business with the STARFISH mining platform was merely a sneaky little money-spinner for Alterra and Torgaljin Corp. Unfortunately, all technical data on Phase Gate construction had been corrupted beyond any hope of recovery.
Maybe it was just as well, because the technology involved was waaay over my former pay grade. As it was, I knew just enough about Phase Gate theory to convince me that this tech was best left to the experts. Construction's not the problem. Calibration and temporal-spatial alignment of Phase Gates requires considerably more finesse.
Definitely not a job for a lowly Spanner Monkey like me.