AL CLARK - Avalon -: (Book Two) Page 13

  The hangar bay he walked into was organized chaos. The shuttles were ready for flight and loading was almost complete. Many years ago, before the ship left Earth, these passengers practiced this drill many times, perfecting their times with each repetition. This time, the exercise was real, and the tests they hated at the time became something for which they were grateful.

  Al found the captain beside a shuttle and was glad to see they were loading Kira into one of the escape vehicles with the help of her two doctors; Cody, and Edward. Their good fortune lay in having two shuttles on-board when this happened. There were only forty people aboard, and the small spaceships could carry fifty. They would not have to leave anybody behind.

  The shuttles were buttoned up with the Captain and Lieutenant Alvarado acting as pilots, and preparing to evacuate the air from the bay, when the hull rattling noise slowed and then stopped entirely. Talking subsided and the only noise left was the groaning and crackling of the ship around them.

  Al was relieved. “Well, that’s over.”

  “I am afraid not, Mr. Clark. The meteor shower hit us from the opposite direction of our orbit. Judging by the sound my ship was making, it must have slowed us down.”

  “We have no fuel to speed it back up?” Al guessed.

  There was a sadness apparent in his voice when the captain looked him in the eyes and said, “Let me put it this way; a spaceship fights a constant battle between speed and gravity to maintain an orbit. If you lose speed and have no way to gain it back, gravity wins. We used our spare fuel maintaining our position for the last fifteen years.”

  “I am sorry Al, but in the very near future this ship is going to fall out of orbit, turn into a ball of fire, and crash somewhere down below—and there is nothing we can do about it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Terror was resting. Feeling safe from harm, he was reclining on the little island in the middle of the waterhole. The sound of the waterfall bouncing off the water did not concern him. Any creature that attempted to challenge him must go through the members of the pack currently standing guard. The rest of the pack was out hunting his supper. The group had grown, and he now commanded five Riktors and four of the little animals that run on four legs.

  The female that belonged to him stood in the water by his side, ready to fight to the death for his life on the off chance some devious creature made it this close.

  Secure in the knowledge he was free to think, the biggest predator in the valley contemplated his plan. Some details still escaped him, and his thoughts came slowly which and only served to make him more determined. His hatred of the invaders drove him.

  The big predator was aware that he was complicating his problems by gathering so many large carnivores in a confined hunting area. He did not care. His pack members had depleted most of the larger game in the area and were now forced to make do with small ground animals. Creatures of the Riktor’s size needed much more than they had been able to catch and the food inside the white poles called to him, telling him to attack. But he would not be rushed.

  Terror was determined and patient. He had eyes watching their den, and these spies would let him know when the time was right. When the intruders were at their most vulnerable, and the one that protected those inside the fence was away—they would attack.

  ****

  The ship scientists determined the colonists had approximately three days to salvage what they could from the Excalibur. The shuttles ran non-stop, flying back and forth from the doomed ship to Camelot.

  Most of the village was involved, with plenty to do for all. A priority list was developed to get things started, and all four shuttles carried the maximum passengers to the ship to begin dismantling what they hoped to save. There were one hundred people ferried up to set about taking things apart. As they tired, they were replaced. On the ground, storage buildings were constructed to hold the salvaged material until needed or until they could figure out what purpose it would best serve.

  Edward was on one of the first flights and went to retrieve all he could from the robotics shop. He would need the equipment to finish Kira’s legs and Al’s power pack, along with a hundred other uses. The roboticist had to download his life’s work, contained in the computer banks of the Excalibur, and transport the equipment needed to perform his occupation. With only three days to prepare, he worked tirelessly to save as many of these resources as possible.

  Al had mentioned his low energy warning and Edward was worried. He spent two days on-board the failing starship with three people helping him. When he had transported what he could, he was flown to Overlook Mountain to concentrate on completing Al’s power pack and Kira’s legs.

  The shuttles were loaded to capacity with the salvaged items and flown down to the planet, unloaded, resupplied with the next shift, and sent back to the ship. The additional use of a fourth craft, made possible by the fabrication of the needed titanium parts and the new power supplies, helped considerably.

  They managed to save: the main computer and four of its workstations, two large scale 3D printers, some of the medical imaging equipment, various tools and small machines that were not bolted down, and six of the maintenance robots.

  Al made several trips to the ship. On one occasion, he was accompanied by Robot Nine to help determine which service robots would be the most helpful to the colonists. There were some mechanicals in Camelot, but most settlers preferred to fend for themselves. The little robot favored the mechanical assistants similar to himself. “My model is multipurpose, reliable, and very mobile,” volunteered Robot Nine.

  Al pointed out, “I still think it would be a good idea to have a couple farm bots. They could help grow our food,”

  “Yes, sir, that is a logical suggestion. I recommend we attempt the transport of four service robots and two farm robots. If we have time and room on another spacecraft, we can procure more.”

  A grin grew on Al’s face, and he replied, “That is a reasonable compromise Robot Nine. Let’s make that happen.”

  “Yes, Chief Clark.” As the robot rolled away, he said, “You will not be disappointed sir.”

  On his last trip, late on the third day, he and Elizabeth went up to retrieve some last minute items and say goodbye to the ship that had been their home for forty years. They were asleep most of the time, but it still felt like home.

  Liz was going after some relays and modules from the sensor array towards the rear of the ship, and Al went forward to do one last download from the navigational computer on the bridge. The navigation computer monitors and records data about the planet continually and the information contained in the database would be useful. Before long, they would have no eye in the sky.

  The ship was nearly deserted, with most of the personnel having already returned to Avalon. Most of the lighting systems; damaged by the storm, no longer functioned so that they would be working by headlamps and flashlights. His trip to the bridge was quiet, dark, and surreal.

  Al made it to the bridge and performed the download. While he waited, he took one last look around. Taped to a console nearby, was a tiny toy dragon he had not noticed before. Someone had placed it there for luck.

  Al chuckled and thought, it looks a little like the beasts we fear—with wings. I guess we should consider ourselves lucky they don’t have wings or breathe fire. The small charm did, however, make sense in a way. Their village was called Camelot, their ship Excalibur, and there was a round table in the castle they called the community center. Dragons were a natural part of the tale. He pulled it from the console and put it in his pocket, thinking he might return it to the person that placed it there.

  On his way back, he was entering the weightless hub when his trouble began. He pushed off from the airlock door and was floating across the hub when his body abruptly stopped working. A warning scrolled across his vision, LOW POWER—SHUTDOWN IMMINENT.

  Now you tell me?

  He was sailing headlong across the hub to smash his head into the hatch on the o
ther side, and could not move his arms to catch himself. What in actuality was only a few seconds, time stretched and slowed, and a stream of thoughts ran through his mind. Is this it? Is this where it ends?

  Just as suddenly as it started, the crisis was over. Whether it was the dragon in his pocket or mere fate, he would never know, but luck had favored him with a reprieve, and the paralysis lasted only a few seconds. By the time he reached the other side, he was able to put his arms before him and grab the safety handles. Nothing like this had ever happened before, but he had a good idea what it was. He was running out of luck.

  Airlocks are notoriously slow when you are in a hurry, and the time it took to cycle through seemed like forever. When he entered the deserted farm, the message repeated itself and again he was locked in a body he could not move. Now it was getting scary. Frozen in an upright position, with his unblinking eyes staring at the faraway door, he wondered if he would get his body back.

  It was hard to tell how long he was immobile, but to him, it seemed to stretch on and on. A tiny red light appeared in his side vision, not normally something he saw in human mode, and another good reason to be fearful.

  His body did eventually return to his control, in part, and he wasted no time retrieving his pad from his pocket and called Elizabeth. “Now I don’t want to alarm you, but I seem to be in the process of shutting down. How much time do we have before the shuttle leaves?”

  “We’re in the shuttle bay waiting for you. Where are you? I have been trying to call you for the past hour.”

  He became aware of a developing low hum, and the big starship starting to groan and pop. It would appear their descent had begun.

  “How long have I been gone?”

  “More than three hours. Are you ok? Should I come and get you?”

  “No—I think I can make it. I will just have to hurry. Wait for me, I’m on my way.”

  Running would only drain his energy faster, so he walked quickly. Going enhanced was out of the question, as energy conservation became a priority.

  He made it as far as the medical center before it happened again. His flashlight had been left behind in his dash to safety, and when his body locked up, his forward motion caused him to fall and slide down the passageway. In the process, he lost his headlamp. Now he was frozen in the dark.

  Fortune again intervened, and some tiny circuit; a small part of a fail-safe program in his sophisticated systems sensed his fear and allowed him limited movement. He was able to crawl on the floor, moving around discarded objects left in his path when he bumped into them. His head took the brunt of the collisions and was beginning to ring from the sensory overload.

  Something kept tugging at his memory until it came to him. This is the dream. The dream I kept having. Now I remember! The dream that foretold this moment in time, that came to him three times in one week. The dark corridor, the screaming of the ship. It was all the same, and he somehow knew he would be all right if he could just make it to the door.

  He finally did make it to that faraway opening, and when he opened the shuttle bay hatch, he collapsed through the opening. Liz was there to catch him and ease him to the floor. His body had depleted the last of his resources and left him without the ability to move—but he could still talk. “Don’t you think we should get going?” he said nonchalantly.

  A stretcher materialized, and they loaded him onto it. Four men carried him on-board, followed by the last of the evacuees.

  Lieutenant Jesse Alvarado, the man he had met in the park, had been their pilot on the ride up, and he took control of the shuttlecraft, opening the bay door for the last time. Jesse lifted the shuttle and flew through the force field, and they escaped the failing ship.

  When gravity overcame momentum, the ship that brought them to Avalon began its descent into destruction. The shuttle established an orbit of its own, and they watched as the giant colonial starship gradually slowed down, burst into flames, and fell below the clouds, to crash somewhere far below. The Excalibur had made her final passage.

  ****

  Kira and her tribe were gathered on the ledge outside their caves, waiting to see the fireball foretold to them by the star travelers.

  They no longer believed the Kuthra to be gods, but there was a particular reverence to the star they had been watching for all these years. They had all prayed to that star at one time or another. The ancient prophecy stated that the gods would come from that far away place and save them from their worst nightmares, and they had. It was because of the human settlers they could enjoy the outdoors after dark. But, the Kuthra were not gods.

  The Sansi, however, considered the falling star an ominous sign, a sign of troubled times ahead. The thought of the tiny star above them turning from a thing of wonder and hope to a screaming fireball, made them fearful.

  Toji sat on a rock next to Kira’s wheelchair, watching her as much as the sky. She had been increasingly silent and withdrawn, leaving him to guess about all the things she might be thinking.

  “Are you okay Kira?”

  “I’m all right Toji; I am just tired. It has been a very busy week.”

  “I am told you will have your operation in a few days. Are you scared?”

  “Of course I am scared. Who would not be afraid? What if they cannot make the new legs work?”

  “I am sure they will work. What will you do when you can walk again?”

  Kira perked up and said, “I would like to explore. With my new legs, I will outrun anything that tries to catch me.”

  “They may not work that well.”

  She laughed, “I believe in the Kuthra. They will make them work.”

  Toji sat silent for a moment, his thoughts churning, and then asked, “Are you happy Kira? I mean…with me?”

  Kira hesitated. She was no longer the naive young girl of their childhood. Exposure to the Kuthra and all their knowledge made her dream for more than just being the queen of the backward Sansi tribe. Try as she might, she could not picture herself living happily ever after as Toji’s wife.

  “You have been wonderful, but I am going through a lot of changes. I’m sorry if I sometimes seem to be ignoring you, but things will get better after I get back on my feet.”

  She flashed him a smile and gave him an awkward hug.

  Toji half-heartedly returned the smile and said, “Hah—back on your feet. You are very funny.”

  Toji was afraid they would be the feet that carried her away from him.

  ****

  Al Clark was in bed, and the only view of the world he had was straight up. He was not bothered by the minuscule loss of sight when he blinked, for he did not blink. He was thankful he could see at all. The added ability to speak helped him from going crazy. Right now his friends filled his view, circling his upward gaze.

  They had come to see him at the impromptu lab set up by Edward and Chris in a vacant habitat cube. He was on a table, with the essential equipment needed for the power pack transfer surrounding him. His six closest friends were there, and Robot Nine, who was too short to see above the table. He improvised by extending his arm with a camera peering down. It amused Al, this circle of faces—and a metal arm.

  “Does it hurt Al?” Chris was asking.

  “I don’t feel any pain, but there is a buzzing in my head that is a little annoying. It’s hard to explain, but imagine having your eyes propped open, you can’t move, and all you can see is a bright light.” His eyes glanced to the side. “Can we move that?”

  “Oh sorry,” said Liz, and she shoved the offending inspection light away from him.

  “That’s better. Now I can focus. So…what’s happening?”

  One by one, they filled him in.

  “Edward has gone to finish your power pack at the mountain,” Liz volunteered.

  “The captain and I are going to join him, as soon as we’re sure you’re ok,” added Chris.

  Cody appeared uncomfortable, afraid to say what he had to say, “You suffered some damage to your he
ad.” He quickly added, “Not bad Al, but Edward will have to repair that too.”

  Al wanted to see, “Show me.”

  Cody reached for a mirror and held it where he could see. There were big chunks of his short brown hair missing, exposing the metal top of his bloody head. Sections of skin were torn back and peppered with small indents marking where he had collided with objects on the floor. It was all artificial, but it looked like it would hurt.

  Al grimaced. “Looks bad doesn’t it?”

  “It’s not as bad as it appears,” Cody answered.

  “You’re not the one looking in the mirror.”

  Al could see the worry on their faces, and was not the kind to have people standing around, trying to help when there was nothing they could do. “I am sure you all have a hundred better things you could be doing. Go and do them. I will be fine.”

  “Not me,” retorted Ana. I have been asked to assist Edward when he gets back.

  A smiling Elizabeth added, “Not me either, I’m not going anywhere, and you’re in no position to make me. Someone has to stay and help Ana clean up this mess you’ve made.”

  “I’m afraid you have me there Liz. Okay,…you can stay.”

  Chapter Twelve

  It was Cody, the captain, and Chris that went to help Edward. A doctor, a pilot, and an engineer. The seventh, fifth and second colonists Al had saved from sleeping until death. They had been there in the early days of Al’s new life and were there through it all. They were there to help.

  Half a mile out from Overlook Mountain, they were two hundred feet off the ground when the birds first appeared. Out of nowhere they heard the powerful flap of large wings and two loud bangs, and long thin claws poked through the roof on the inside. The shuttle immediately began a slow up and down oscillation.