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“Three years?” Bryce said. “That means the ship has travelled for thirty years.”
“That’s only since systems started failing. By the ship’s clock, we left Earth nearly one hundred twenty years ago, but because of our speed, more than twice that has passed on Earth.”
While Bryce processed that information, Cole spoke up. “So what you’re saying is that the ship is doomed, and we’re all going to die?”
The little man sat back in his chair, seemingly at a loss for words, but Bryce knew teh computer was calculating every pause. “Essentially, yes.”
Cole leaned forward. “So what do you expect from us?”
“There are things I can do to prolong the life of the ship and ensure the cryounits and the simulation program keep functioning, even if nothing else does, but I don’t have the authority to initiate them. I need permission from a colonist, and you two are the first colonists I’ve ever actually spoken to in person, so to speak.”
“What took you so long?” Cole asked.
“The contact protocols were lost to an aggressive virus, as was an alarming percentage of my intelligence, but when colonists started dying, I tried hundreds of ways to contact them. But you are my first real success.”
He broke off as the floor shook and the window rattled from what Bryce thought could only be some kind of explosion. He cocked his head, saw Cole doing the same, and this time he heard the explosion as well as felt it, and it was followed by the crackle of muffled gunfire.
“What the hell is going on out there?” Bryce demanded of the CTK.
The little man held his hands up helplessly. Cole got up to open the door, but the little man said, “No, no, no, don’t go out there. The virus created a subroutine to prevent sleepers from contacting me, and it will kill you.”
“Then let’s find another way out of here, and fast,” Cole said, stepping back from the door as bursts of gunfire, louder now, came more frequently. “It sounds like the defensive team is digging in for their last stand.”
“There is no other way out of here.”
“So make a door.”
“They’d only catch us.”
“Alpha Omega,” Bryce said for no reason he could think of.
The little man said, “I hear and obey.”
Bryce said, “Make us a trapdoor and take us down to a bomb shelter, something with thick walls and a solid door so they can’t get through, at least long enough for us to talk.”
The CTK didn’t speak. He just pulled on a big ring that hadn’t been there before and raised a trapdoor beside his desk, revealing a narrow concrete shaft with a steel ladder bolted to one wall. They followed the CTK down, closing the trapdoor behind them, muffling the gunfire.
“Make the trapdoor disappear up there.”
“What an excellent suggestion. I certainly miss my imagination.”
Bryce hoped he didn’t miss it so much he couldn’t function without it. “Make our shelter a command center,” he said before he reached the bottom. “Something with reinforced walls so thick the virus can never get through, and with high-tech defenses so you can hold off the virus.”
“Consider it done.”
They reached the bottom, passed through a door that would have felt at home on a bank vault, and entered what looked like a doctor’s waiting room. As it hissed closed behind them, the CTK said, “We should be secure now. It is so much easier staying ahead of the virus with just a little human input to guide me.”
“That’s all very wonderful,” Cole said, “but why us?”
The CTK sat down in one of the chairs and waited until they did the same. “You are two of the most senior officers remaining. Most of my attempts at communication failed completely, and when I did manage to contact senior officers in the simulation, they went mad when they learned the nature of their existence, though I suspect the virus contributed to their reaction. I learned from experience, and I’m regulating your emotions to keep you calm.”
About Rik Hunik
