one.
“Chirom!” From the doorway, Technologist Finnar called excitedly. “We are descending rapidly. Desolator will land on the moon in just a few smallspans.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and ran back toward the tap-room.
“Then we must make ready. Those too old, and females, stay in this room. Warriors, organize by clan. When I give the word, you who are Rell,” – Chirom’s clan – “will come with me through the main corridor. Renn, east passageway. Rall, west. Rurr, up one deck, and Rovv, down one, and we will all converge on the armory. Right now, disperse and collect tools, anything you have. If Desolator asks, tell him you are preparing to help with the defense. Once you have done that, all return here. We must not move too soon and alert Desolator to our plans.”
As the warriors scattered to find their improvised implements of war, Trissk approached. Chirom leaped lightly down from the divan and began cleaning the blood off his face, saying, “What is it?”
At the same moment Klis padded up, to slip an arm into the crook of Trissk’s. “We females want to help,” she said firmly. “We are technologists, and plant-tenders, and healers. We are preparers of food and repairers of devices. Do not ask us to sit idly by while the males do everything.”
“She’s right,” insisted Trissk, slipping his paw into hers. “As you said, Chirom, females must be allowed to be more than breeders of warriors.”
Chirom smiled. “I did say that, didn’t I? What better time.” He turned to look for Elder B’nur, saying, “You should take charge of the females. Prepare the surgery. Many will die this day, but fewer if our honored sisters and mothers care for us. Also harvest and wrap as much food as you can, in case we must escape rapidly.”
B’nur, old but still with steel in her spine, nodded and clapped her paws together. “Sisters! Come to me, and I will explain what we must do.”
***
“Your choice,” Ezekiel said apologetically. “You can go into the VR cocoon and share the virtuality, or you can hang out here for a couple of days. Hope you’re not claustrophobic.” He gestured at the small chamber that held three sarcophagi.
“Nothing to worry about, Jill,” Spooky assured her. “Just like the coldsleep boxes.”
“That’s what worries me. I might never wake up.”
Spooky shrugged. “Life is full of risk. As for me…see you on the inside.” He stripped naked and climbed into one cocoon. Ezekiel followed suit, and soon Jill stared at two sealed bio-boxes and one open.
“Oh, bloody hell,” she mumbled, and took off her skinsuit.
Moments later she found herself stepping into something out of Jules Verne – Captain Nemo’s Nautilus, perhaps. Brass rails, riveted iron, and polished wood abounded. Circular flat glass portholes showed ocean views stretching impossibly far, as if the water were clear and telescopic. Sea creatures such as were never seen on Earth swam, crawled, floated and jetted through the bluish space.
“This feels a bit unreal,” Jill remarked, “not at all like when I took a ride in a StormCrow.”
“It’s deliberate,” Ezekiel assured her, stepping up next to her in front of the large forward porthole. He wore a high-collared outfit reminiscent of a naval uniform. “One way to fight VR confusion is to ensure the virtuality is a bit imperfect.”
Jill checked her own body, finding herself clothed in Marine utilities. “So, how is this all generated, anyway? I mean, if your ship is this mentally capable and focused, it would be fully sentient. I understood it was nearer animal intelligence, like a dog.”
“That’s a reasonable analogy. However, this virtuality is generated by an implanted cybernetic package only accessible when I am here. Without me linked in, nothing will work and
Roger
isn’t going anywhere. Meme ships are very loyal; they’re bred and designed that way.”
“So other Meme ships can’t do this?”
“Chirom!” From the doorway, Technologist Finnar called excitedly. “We are descending rapidly. Desolator will land on the moon in just a few smallspans.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and ran back toward the tap-room.
“Then we must make ready. Those too old, and females, stay in this room. Warriors, organize by clan. When I give the word, you who are Rell,” – Chirom’s clan – “will come with me through the main corridor. Renn, east passageway. Rall, west. Rurr, up one deck, and Rovv, down one, and we will all converge on the armory. Right now, disperse and collect tools, anything you have. If Desolator asks, tell him you are preparing to help with the defense. Once you have done that, all return here. We must not move too soon and alert Desolator to our plans.”
As the warriors scattered to find their improvised implements of war, Trissk approached. Chirom leaped lightly down from the divan and began cleaning the blood off his face, saying, “What is it?”
At the same moment Klis padded up, to slip an arm into the crook of Trissk’s. “We females want to help,” she said firmly. “We are technologists, and plant-tenders, and healers. We are preparers of food and repairers of devices. Do not ask us to sit idly by while the males do everything.”
“She’s right,” insisted Trissk, slipping his paw into hers. “As you said, Chirom, females must be allowed to be more than breeders of warriors.”
Chirom smiled. “I did say that, didn’t I? What better time.” He turned to look for Elder B’nur, saying, “You should take charge of the females. Prepare the surgery. Many will die this day, but fewer if our honored sisters and mothers care for us. Also harvest and wrap as much food as you can, in case we must escape rapidly.”
B’nur, old but still with steel in her spine, nodded and clapped her paws together. “Sisters! Come to me, and I will explain what we must do.”
***
“Your choice,” Ezekiel said apologetically. “You can go into the VR cocoon and share the virtuality, or you can hang out here for a couple of days. Hope you’re not claustrophobic.” He gestured at the small chamber that held three sarcophagi.
“Nothing to worry about, Jill,” Spooky assured her. “Just like the coldsleep boxes.”
“That’s what worries me. I might never wake up.”
Spooky shrugged. “Life is full of risk. As for me…see you on the inside.” He stripped naked and climbed into one cocoon. Ezekiel followed suit, and soon Jill stared at two sealed bio-boxes and one open.
“Oh, bloody hell,” she mumbled, and took off her skinsuit.
Moments later she found herself stepping into something out of Jules Verne – Captain Nemo’s Nautilus, perhaps. Brass rails, riveted iron, and polished wood abounded. Circular flat glass portholes showed ocean views stretching impossibly far, as if the water were clear and telescopic. Sea creatures such as were never seen on Earth swam, crawled, floated and jetted through the bluish space.
“This feels a bit unreal,” Jill remarked, “not at all like when I took a ride in a StormCrow.”
“It’s deliberate,” Ezekiel assured her, stepping up next to her in front of the large forward porthole. He wore a high-collared outfit reminiscent of a naval uniform. “One way to fight VR confusion is to ensure the virtuality is a bit imperfect.”
Jill checked her own body, finding herself clothed in Marine utilities. “So, how is this all generated, anyway? I mean, if your ship is this mentally capable and focused, it would be fully sentient. I understood it was nearer animal intelligence, like a dog.”
“That’s a reasonable analogy. However, this virtuality is generated by an implanted cybernetic package only accessible when I am here. Without me linked in, nothing will work and
Roger
isn’t going anywhere. Meme ships are very loyal; they’re bred and designed that way.”
“So other Meme ships can’t do this?”
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