The Lonely Whelk Read online

  “Do you remember the old rovers?” Pilgrim asked, sounding oddly nostalgic. “Back on Sagitta – that’s my planet – we skip the science station and just build the planets the way we want to. It makes things a lot simpler in the long run, although it ends up being pretty expensive in the short term. Anyway, the arboretum is right around that corner. I don’t imagine we’ll find anything too interesting except for a lot of overgrown foliage. Let’s see what’s going on in there.”

  “Do you think this monkey will run away?” Hazel asked.

  Pilgrim came to an abrupt halt and turned to look at her.

  “Do you mean to say,” he asked, “that this is not your monkey? I thought it was yours. It’s not ours either.”

  Hazel let a confused expression flow across her face. It felt good, like her face had been desperate to make this expression all along, and now, all of a sudden, it was allowed to. “It’s not mine.”

  “Well, we have one shipbot named Squeak, but this guy isn’t it. Did Holland know about this monkey?”

  “She’s the one who got it to translate for me,” Hazel replied. “If this isn’t your shipbot, where did it come from? And where is Squeak?”

  “Let’s fix the camera first,” Pilgrim said, “and then figure out the monkey dilemma.”

  They rounded the corner ahead of them. A camera – at least, Hazel assumed it was a camera – was hanging from a cord over their heads. The doors to the arboretum were open and the branches burst through, looking like they were trying to escape – like humans, apparently, Hazel thought.

  “Well,” Pilgrim said. “We found out what is wrong with one camera. But a camera can’t do that to itself. Let’s go check out some of the others and see what happened to them.”

  The trees were not pleased when they began to push their way through.

  “Gah!” Pilgrim exclaimed as he got a mouthful of tree. “These trees do not want us coming in here.”

  “I think I was in here before,” Hazel said. “I mean, when I first got here.”

  “I am going to ask you how you got here, but first, I think we should check out the cameras near Squeak’s house. Then maybe we can figure out what happened to him, and where this little guy came from.” He reached out to scratch the top of the monkey’s head as it curled around Hazel’s neck.

  “Your shipbot has a house? Isn’t it a robot? Doesn’t it just need a closet or something?” Hazel was very curious about these shipbots. They seemed to be reasonably intelligent, but at the same time, limited in what tasks they could perform. If she could take one home with her, she would be famous! Plus, she was starting to like the little guy curled around her neck.

  “No, it doesn’t need a house, but the kids like to play with it sometimes, so we gave it a little house. That way, when it’s not busy, not only does everyone know where it is, but it’s a healthy place for the kids to play. They painted it yellow and blue – it’s really cute. You’ll see!”

  Pilgrim ducked through a break in a wall of bushes. On the other side, a number of trees had been chopped off at the floor. Stumps stuck up here and there with the sprouts of new trees surrounding the old stump. The new growth combined with the old dead wood created an odd effect.

  “I wonder what happened here.” Pilgrim frowned. “This isn’t good. We’ll have to take air sample readings and make sure enough oxygen is still getting pumped into the entire ship.”

  “Just wake people up so they start breathing again,” Hazel said. “Carbon dioxide... photosynthesis… The trees’ll grow back – well, the little sprouts will, anyway.”

  “Oh my...” Pilgrim stopped dead in his tracks. “Look at that.”

  It appeared to be a giant black rock with red letters emblazoned across its face.

  “Can you read that?” Pilgrim asked. “It says KEEP OUT. Weird, huh? Well, we better keep going.”

  “Shouldn’t we avoid the rock? If it says to keep out, I mean?” Hazel asked.

  “I think it will be fine. Plus it’s kind of exciting! I love this sort of adventure. And it feels great to be awake and moving around after sleeping for six hundred years. I’m quite curious about what went on here.”

  Hazel followed Pilgrim towards the rock. They didn’t quite make it to the rock, however, when a monkey dropped from nowhere and landed in front of it.

  “Well, hello there!” Pilgrim said cheerfully. “You’re not Squeak. Where did you come from?”

  Another monkey dropped out of the trees and stood next to it. Pilgrim began to baby talk to that one, too. A third monkey appeared.

  “Wow! Look at them all. Do you suppose Squeak made them?” Pilgrim asked quietly, almost as though he were talking to himself. He gazed around as monkeys appeared in the trees around them one by one, some only eyes glowing deep in the foliage, others hanging from branches or sitting comfortably on limbs. Several scampered close to them on the ground, and sat looking up at them.

  “Come with us,” said one monkey. “Do not resist.”

  Hazel’s jewel translated the statement, but then, to her surprise the monkey repeated the phrase in English. “Come with us. Do not resist.”

  “Did it just speak your language?” Pilgrim asked. His eyes were wide as he turned to look at Hazel.

  Hazel nodded. “Yes, but he just said ‘come with us, do not resist’ again.”

  The monkey around her neck repeated her comment.

  “Amazing!” Pilgrim really seemed amazed. “I wonder how many languages they know. Maybe we could sell them as universal translators! I wonder if they have emotions.”

  The monkeys herded them around the rock. Pilgrim stopped and gazed up in awe. “That used to be Squeak’s house!” he exclaimed.

  In front of them loomed a massive structure, painted entirely black. The wooden structure contained four turrets and had a metal gate at the front. A small moat had been dug around the structure. In addition, monkeys with spears guarded the entrance.

  “Our leader will see you now,” the leading monkey commanded. “Wait here. Sit.”

  Pilgrim sat immediately. Hazel frowned slightly and then followed his example.

  The monkeys reappeared with their so-called leader in the front of the pack.

  “You are Pilgrim!” the monkey stated. “And you are Hazel. Peasants.”

  “Hey, Squeak!” Pilgrim greeted him. “It looks like you’ve been up to a lot these past few years. You did some redecorating, I see. Where’d your friends come from?”

  “My name is Emperor Tamarin,” Squeak said. “And these are my children – my minions. They carry out my commands and obey my every whim.”

  “I see.” Pilgrim frowned. “So... what’s with the decorations?” He pointed to a skull that hung from one of the turrets.

  Emperor Tamarin turned to look. “That is from one of the dead humans aboard this vessel.”

  “What?” Pilgrim leaped to his feet. “What did you just say? Did you take a human skull and hang it on your silly turret?”

  Anger blazed from his eyes and posture. Hazel could see red creeping up around his neck, and his typically cheerful face had turned into an angry, ice-cold glare.

  “Sit back down, human,” Emperor Tamarin said, “Or we will kill you and all the other humans aboard this ship. Our weapons are poisoned.”

  “What do you want?”

  “My reign is great,” the monkey said, “and can be much greater. We need to land this ship in a place where I can take over the nation, and the locals, and I will be supreme ruler!”

  “I never would have guessed,” Pilgrim said, dropping his face into his hands. His elbows rested on his knees, and his entire body sort of slouched. “So, Captain Abrams was one of the original crew – he died of old age sometime while I was sleeping. Anyway, he’s a nut for chess and castles and towers and feudal societies – you have any of those on Earth?”

  “Of course,” Hazel replied, her voice low and hesitant.

  “So he programmed Squeak here to be able to play chess, and he
filled the robot’s memory banks with history and archeology about castles and feudal societies, and look at what happened: Squeak went nuts. We have a monkey that’s a madman, and thinks it’s going to take over some poor, unknowing civilization—”

  “I don’t think,” Squeak blustered angrily. “I know. I will take over and build my kingdom and rule the world! And then the universe!”

  “So how are you planning to do this?” Pilgrim asked the monkey madman.

  “We will shut down the engines. We will suck out the oxygen. We will kill all the humans!”

  “Why didn’t you do it while we were asleep?”

  “We tried,” Emperor Tamarin said. “We steered the ship into an asteroid belt, but that didn’t work. So we cut the electricity to some of the sleeping chambers, but weren’t able to get access to all. So now, as you and your Admiral wake each person up, we will stab them with a poisonous knife and kill them all!”

  He laughed manically.

  “This is like a bad sci-fi film,” Hazel muttered. “Who could have ever imagined that the evolution of artificial intelligence would look like this?”

  “Yeah,” Pilgrim replied. “Don’t let this guy fool you. Real AI are actually some of the most gentle and peace-loving creatures in the universe. Not like this nut job.”

  “I’ve never met an intelligent robot,” Hazel replied, “so I have nothing to compare against.”

  Pilgrim turned his attention back to the maniac monkey. “You’ve got us captured. Why don’t you just kill us now, monkeys?” he asked, throwing his hands into the air.

  “No, we need the human,” said Emperor Tamarin, “She is a necessary piece. It is with her that we will take over this planet called Earth. And we will take you, Sagittan, as collateral.”

  Hazel gulped.

  Pilgrim reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He hit the button.

  “Admiral?”

  “Get that away from him!” Squeak yelled, and Hazel ducked as the room suddenly began to swarm with angry monkeys, buzzing like bees.

  The comm beeped. It was Pilgrim.

  “Admiral,” he whispered rapidly. She could hear a strange buzzing sound in the background. “We have a problem. Squeak reproduced himself and is planning a mutiny.” The comm made a static noise and then went silent.

  Holland was furious, even more so now that she could walk. Strangers magically appearing on her ship, robot monkeys that had reproduced and were now causing trouble, pins and needles stabbing painfully at all of her extremities, a plethora of deceased passengers, and not even her dear brother for support: these problems were not going to get the best of her. She was going to have to put this anger to good use.

  “Computer, begin revival for all living Corridors.” Holland stated. If she increased the timeline for revival, at very least she would have more hands. And with half of the colony deceased, food and supplies should not be an issue. Although, perhaps it would be best to do an inventory first.

  “Do you think that is the best choice?” the computer intoned. “That is a large number of people with a small number of prepared medical support staff.”

  Holland scowled, irritated that a computer, of all things, was second-guessing her commands. But two reasons to wait on waking everyone made for a strong case. “Computer, as soon as the medical personnel are awake, wake up the equipment personnel and crew. In four hours, wake up everyone else – useful adults first, children last and only after their parents are capable of taking care of them.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “Computer, do I have communication with Corridor 1?”

  “Yes, Admiral,” the computer replied.

  Shivering, Holland tried to imagine that the voice sounded more like a generic robotic voice and not her late peer. Lady Mastin’s voice still annoyed her, and probably always would. She would have to see if one of the programmers could set it back to the generic voice.

  “Hook me up. Crew, can you hear me?”

  “Admiral! It’s McGraff. Great to hear your voice. What’s going on out there?”

  “We have a virus... of sorts,” Holland began. “Pilgrim is… incapacitated for the moment. Sammy, I need you to walk everyone through the exercises as quickly as possible, as I think I will be needing support sooner than later.”

  “That sounds great,” Sammy said. Holland imagined they were all saluting to the comm system. “How does everyone feel?” Holland heard Sammy ask. Then Holland turned off the comm.

  There had to be some way to get rid of those monkeys. Holland got up and wandered towards the front of the bridge. She pulled open a junk drawer – typically the most useless drawer on the entire ship. She dug through it: rubber bands, paper cups, three dull personal jackknives, a hive tool, a few loose bandages, a pair of finger cymbals, banjo picks, a bodkin, four match books, the last four pages of a romance novel… but no magic wand to solve her problems. She pulled out a rubber band and tied her hair back, and then sighed slowly. It was hard to save your crew, be sad, and be tired all at the same time.

  “I’m coming to Corridor 1,” she said over the comm, and then walked quickly from the room. Her legs felt better, but her brain felt like a sponge that soaked up information and then was painfully squeezed by a giant hand, which caused all important details to drain from her mind shortly after entering. When she arrived, all of the occupants were awake and stretching. Sammy walked from person to person, helping them stretch out their sore and disused muscles, all while offering words of encouragement.

  “The computer is waking up all of the medical personnel,” Holland explained as she stepped through. Everyone in the room turned to look at her and saluted. It was a rather amusing image, Holland thought, as they were all able to salute, but they couldn’t all stand. Some sat awkwardly on the floor, some still lay in their coffins, and a couple of crew members were flat on their backs on the floor – yet all saluted.

  She returned the salute, and everyone went back to stretching.

  “I am going to split you up into teams, based on Sammy’s recommendations. I want the five in the best health to head down to the arboretum and find out what happened to Pilgrim and the alien girl. I want a second team to head to Corridor 11 and see if they can find a reason for the electrical spike we had this morning. Finally, I want Sammy to split up the remaining individuals, based on their relative health, to go support the waking of all medical personnel, and then, immediately afterwards, any equipment personnel and crew. Once they are taken care of, you should begin with the passengers. Thanks!”

  McGraff strode rapidly towards Holland.

  “You look good.” Holland nodded to her subordinate. “Lead the team to Corridor 11.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” McGraff replied. She turned and pointed to four other people and the team took off.

  “Bali, you take the other team to the arboretum. You have my permission to take more than five if you wish.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Bali saluted and he and his team took off.

  Holland left the room, leaving Sammy in charge of waking up everyone else on the ship. She began to wander, and remembered when she and Hawkings had first arrived on the ship. He had been so excited.

  “We can name it Steve!” he had exclaimed. His eyes glowed with the thrill of owning a ship and the thought of the adventures that awaited them. He had been the most supportive person in her life after the death of her son.

  “I don’t think so,” Holland disagreed. After all, what kind of name for a ship was ‘Steve’?

  They had toured the ship and laughed and talked; it had been the first time she had laughed since… it was better not to think about it. She should focus on the moment. She thought that maybe they should name the ship after her son, but Hawkings had thought it was morbid.

  Later that night, Hawkings had stumbled into their shared apartment, a little drunk and a little sheepish.

  “I lost a bet,” he had said.

  Holland gave him a look which said, “what now
?”

  “It was to a painter. He won a thousand dollars and the opportunity to paint the name of our ship on the outside.”

  “That’s not so bad,” Holland said, “as long as it was your thousand dollars.”

  Hawkings nodded and covered his face with his young, smooth hands. “He also gets to pick the name. It will be done in the morning.”

  “What?” Holland asked, shocked and suddenly quite nervous. She had grabbed her coat and practically flown from the building. But by the time she got to the ship, the painter was stumbling down with a mostly-empty bucket of paint in one hand and a silly grin in the other.

  “I named it,” he said, pointing a shaky hand towards her precious ship. “It’s sho pretty.” He giggled.

  Holland shined her light on the rather sloppy-looking letters. They read, “Whelk.”

  “Cuz it looksh like one,” the painter giggled, and stumbled off into the night.

  Holland smiled a little at the memory. Her beautiful ship was so sad now – thousands had died on their maiden voyage across the galaxy. All of a sudden the weight of their lost souls fell onto her shoulders, and she stumbled forward until she landed on her knees. Her arms locked around her stomach in pain and the dry sobs of guilt and fear wracked her tired lungs and echoed in the empty corridor. She felt so lonely and empty – her son dead, her husband long passed away, and Hawkings gone now, too. It was only her and her Whelk now, alone in the empty vastness of interstellar space.

  Is this going to be awkward?” Kaia whispered as the group of graduate students filed in. The room was largely empty; it contained only a table, a few chairs, and a Door.

  “A bit,” John replied.

  “I’m sorry, John,” Kenton said. His face looked desperately miserable, as if he wanted to crawl under a table and hide. “It was my fault.”

  “Not directly,” John said, looking at Boris. “You disobeyed me, yes, but Boris here is at fault. To start, I will tell you what is going to happen next, and then we will discuss what already happened and how the issue was resolved. Firstly, Boris, you will be banned from the facilities. Please turn in your ID and keys and exit the building immediately.”