Farthest Reach Page 9

  A bug, one of the pests, fell out of a vent. It landed on its shell, flipped over with the help of little legs, and scurried down the corridor. Before her eliminator cleared the holster, a small mammal with pronounced fangs and a long tail leaped from the vent shaft and gave chase.

  “Two for one,” Sofia whispered while aligning the laser sight. “It must be my lucky day.”

  Puff, puff, two perfect shots and she holstered the eliminator.

  A cabinet cover dropped from the wall and a wheeled box rolled down the ramp. It spun on the deck and headed for the corpses.

  “Janitor Bot-55. Why wasn’t this infestation reported?” she questioned the smart-bot.

  It stopped, wheeled around, and waved antennae in the marshal’s direction. A quick check on a meter showed the wireless in this section registered as adequate for communications. The only reason the smart-bot turned around had to be an itch for additional input.

  “This unit had the lifeforms under surveillance. Before its demise, the insect occupied itself by nibbling on the insulation of the fiber optic cables. The mammal gnawed on the insulation at the fiber optic booster box,” Bot-55 replied. “The coating was not breached by the insect. The depth of gnawing did not exceed the coating at the cable interchange. The pests were amused by the activity.”

  Sofia’s first thought was a snarky, Are you a Cable-Maintenance-Bot to judge the amount of damage? Then caution ruled. The bot was possibly a data hog. If so, she knew to tread carefully.

  “Why didn’t you report the infestation?” Sofia asked, working to keep her temper and voice under control.

  Complex machines and mechanisms on the industrial station required adjustments to keep them calibrated, warren parts replaced, and bearings greased to keep them functioning. To provide for proactive maintenance rather than reactive, all the bots had small processors and rudimentary cognitive abilities. The system worked within parameters for the first two hundred years of its existence.

  Issues started after decades of upgrades to improve performance. The smart-bots got interested in their surroundings and attempted to interact with the Emotional species and the pests. The vermin never replied to the smart-bots; however, the Emotionals did. And unfortunately, sentient beings were often cruel to entities without hearts.

  The Emotionals on the station found the antics of the smart-bots and their stinted conversations interesting. Both became the basis for unkind behavior. For fifty years, the crews of Emotionals that rotated to the station made sport of the bots. But over time, the semi-intelligent smart-bots became more self-aware and began to take offense at the crude language and rude jokes.

  Trouble started when a couple vomited the substances in their stomachs on the floor of a public space. As soon as the Janitor-Bot finished cleaning and polishing the floor, the couple did it again. Sometime during their snickering, the bot went to its charging compartment, locked itself in, and refused to come out. With the trash, rubbish, and stains of digestive bile piling up, Marshal Blue was called in to negotiate peace, and get the Janitor-Bot out of the cabinet and back to cleaning.

  They reached an agreement after a day of circular arguments and, what felt like to Sofia, a gigabyte of data from a thesaurus program. But soon after reaching the accord, the cost of the resolution rapidly swelled. When the Communications-Bot she called in realized a Janitor-Bot was getting a personal news feed wire, all the other smart-bots on the station demanded one as well. After consulting with Francis, it was decided to provide group news hubs in each sector.

  Robotic Ergonomics called the issue Stimulus Depravity Syndrome. Emotionals had the ability to play, raise their young, debate with each other, and remember various facts. These abilities gave them immunity to the syndrome. AIs, with the ability for process learning, had a little less resistance than the sentient species. And, to everyone’s surprise, smart-bots were the most susceptible to S.D.S. Their inability to use and remember the input made them ravenous, bottomless data holes.

  The ‘Regurgitate Study’ was the first recorded episode. For a time, the station hosted groups of R.E. investigators. They arrived, ran tests, created excitement, and eventually left. Left Marshal Blue with an industrial station full of pampered, data-hungry smart-bots.

  She didn’t want the conversation with Bot-55 to escalate into something that required a solution. Keeping it simple, Sofia relied on nonnegotiable rules.

  “Let me quote the regulations for clarity…” she started to say.

  “Clarity?”

  “Understanding, precision, knowledge.”

  “Knowledge, yes. Inform me, marshal,” requested Bot-55.

  “Units will report infestations or any lifeforms located outside of authorized areas. Why did you not report the infestation?”

  “I was isolated in my recharging compartment. The amusement of the insect and mammal provided stimuli for my sensors. Permission to go about my duties, marshal?”

  “Granted,” she said.

  Even without a satisfying answer, relief flooded Sofia when the conversation ended without the need for an argument or a resolution.

  Flaps opened in the bot’s sides while it rotated to face the corpses of the insect and mammal. As the Janitor-Bot rolled away, a scoop, broom, disinfectant dispensing nozzle, and vacuum tube all emerged from compartments.

  Sofia had an accident to investigate and Francis wouldn’t be pleased with this delay. While passing Bot-55, she noticed its antennae swung in her direction. Ignoring the offer for more input and exchange, Marshal Blue continued to the elevators.

  * * *

  The crusher and the Raw Ore Intake Division were located on the spaceport platform. Also out there were the station’s docking facilities. Between the main processing facilities and the platform, a tall structure rose from the skin of the station. Halfway up, an invasive barrier divided the tower. Its position designed to prevent space bugs and animals, both cold-blooded and warm-blooded, from climbing or crawling down to the station. For the most part, the barrier worked. But what it did best was isolate the unwanted spaceship hitchhikers out on the platform. The variety of vermin was the reason for taking the big iron pistol.

  Sofia’s brain must have been on the vermin in the spaceport platform because when she stepped off the elevator, she wasn’t prepared. A fresh slime trail of a scooting pest caught the marshal’s attention. She hesitated while analyzing the substance. During the wasted seconds, the squirming shape approached an intersection. Sofia stopped thinking and drew the eliminator.

  The safety clicked off, the laser acquired the small, wiggling oblong target, and her finger applied pressure to the trigger. Suddenly, a large bug stepped in front of the barrel and blocked the targeting beam.

  “Don’t shoot, marshal. It is only my offspring.”

  Her mind was still processing the wild bugs out on the spaceport platform and for a nanosecond, Sofia anticipated reaching for the big iron pistol. It was understandable considering the beetle confronting her stood two-meters tall while balanced on four tiny hind legs.

  “Progeny are restricted to their species-specific nursery,” she stated while holstering the eliminator.

  “My larva is very aggressive,” the insect stated with pride. “We are aware of the regulations. As such, the community is prepared to lay down additional saliva around the pens. But we are waiting for treated fill material.”

  Then the mature beetle raced after the larva and Sofia took her time to give it a chance to catch the grub. She gave them a wide berth while walking by the screaming baby held by the scruff of its neck. Was that a neck? With wiggling bug offspring, you could never tell.

  Then the beetle’s comment about the dust struck her. Of course, properly incorporating organic matter with the dust from the ore crusher required curing time. But the Emotionals produced vast quantities of organic matter and the pen material only needed dust to create the fill. Sofia turned to face the insect.

  “Is there an issue with the aging process?”


  “No, marshal. We possess vats of aromatic leavings and numerous seasoning tanks,” the beetle exclaimed. “The colony’s challenge presents itself in the lack of dust with the proper iron and magnesium composition.”

  The station’s main product was Niobium. To harvest the element required kilometers of ore cars pulled by space tugs. Once the tanker cars reached the spaceport platform, the pieces of asteroids were scooped out of the cars. From there, the rocks traveled down to the crusher. A byproduct of the crusher was dust making the material a common waste product of the process. But not all dust was suitable for the bugs.

  Only a small portion of the dust created by grinding up the asteroids proved adequate for crafting nursery pens. Too much calcium or aluminum in the dirt could harm the larvae. Sofia once discussed adding iron and magnesium to the silicon dust to manufacture the correct ratio. Francis vetoed the concept. Although she didn’t receive an explanation for the reasoning, Marshal Blue suspected Francis feared a baby boom by the insect Emotionals.

  The chronometer continued to click and Sofia realized the necessity to disengage from this issue. Francis wouldn’t be thrilled with the delay in the rock crusher investigation. Although in truth, she had never detected thrill or passion, either way, during their calls.

  “It may be the station received an order for iron dust from a metal station,” Sofia suggested. After a moment of being stared at by all four of the bug’s eyes, she offered, “Let me check on the availability with the Disposal-AI. The division should be able to get you an emergency supply of dust.”

  “We shall have a legion of beetles with saliva awaiting the opportunity to mend the grub pens,” the beetle said.

  “Don’t wait. Shore up the worst sections now,” the marshal warned. “It’s dangerous for the young to squirm around unsupervised in public spaces.”

  The clicking of the beetle’s barbed feet on the hard deck faded as they parted. The parent and young in one direction and the marshal in the other, heading for the tram hub.

  * * *

  Unfortunately, some mammals on the station considered bug meat a delicacy. And some bugs enjoyed mammal meat. This led to a noticeable allotment of the marshal’s time dedicated to preventing the Emotionals from dining on each other. Corporate was aware and specific rules to prevent food fights were spelled out in the marshal’s charter. A simple kidnapping of the beetle larvae for ransom was the best possible consequence.

  Farther up the corridor, Sofia approached the hub for the tram rail system. Strangely, only one of the trams was operational. The other seven flashed red out-of-service signals. Sofia entered the car and mashed the spaceport button.

  On the trip around the station to the ascent phase, she thought more about the danger to the baby beetle. Fighting ancient instincts occupied a big part of a marshal’s duties. Out on the fringe of the asteroid field, far from a civilized planet with a controlling species, there wasn’t a lot to keep the Emotionals from trying to dominate each other. Considering that, the worst outcome from the kidnapping of a beetle larvae was a bug casserole.

  “Francis. I am on the way to the spaceport platform via tram,” Sofia reported.

  “You are passing the 38th rib. Is there a problem?”

  “You mentioned another issue when you called me. I’m waiting for the details.”

  “The process of closing the station is in progress,” Francis informed her without preamble. “Spaceships for Emotionals are inbound. ETA, one week.”

  “What the heck, Francis? Why are they closing us down? Is it the location, age of the station, or does the universe no longer need Niobium?”

  “The production of stainless steel alloys for nuclear reactors, spaceships, missiles, cutting tools, pipelines, super magnets, and welding rods has not diminished.”

  “Logically then it has to be the age of the station,” she offered, figuring the asteroid field where they harvested the element Niobium was still viable. “Francis, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry is a meaningless expression. The decision has been made,” responded the always stoic Francis. “What is pertinent is an evaluation of the expired Emotional.”

  “I’m on the way.”

  “Yes, you said that,” Francis stated before breaking the link.

  “And I thought the smart-bots were touchy,” whispered Sofia.

  Chapter 2

  The Screws

  A tram ride to the platform was a chance to view twinkling stars and…

  The tram bumped to a stop. According to the location indicator positioned next to the observation window screen, the car stalled at the fiftieth rib. A glance at the ‘you are this high above the surface’ diagram showed the car halted inside the vermin barrier.

  Sofia plugged into the communication system to contact the Platform-AI. While waiting to connect, she peered at the camera view of the outside. The exterior surface of the industrial station and black space with twinkling stars were visible over the horizon.

  The marshal hadn’t been to the platform in a long time. In the years since, the deck plates of the station had transformed from a protective skin of brushed, solid metal. What Sofia looked down on were scarred, tarnished, pockmarked, and in some cases, plates peeled almost off the surface.

  Upon approach, Tug captains once described the station as a jewel in the sky. In its current state of disrepair, it could no longer reflect the stars. Now the industrial station seemed more space junk than a gem. Apparently, the plan to close the station had been in the works much longer than Francis’s recent disclosure.

  “Your tram is paused for cleaning,” the Platform-AI instructed. “Once the exterior of the tram is scrubbed and any biologicals in the barrier are exterminated, the journey will continue. Thank you for your patience.”

  Any filter designed to stop particles will eventually clog if not cleaned. Except this tram was in the process of rising, not descending to the station. Cars coming from the lower side of the invasive fence shouldn’t require scrubbing to remove a layer of pests.

  “This is Sofia Blue. I am on official business to the ore crusher. Why is the tram idle?”

  “Your tram is paused for cleaning. Once the exterior of the tram is scrubbed and any biologicals in the barrier are exterminated, the journey will continue. Thank you for your patience.”

  Had insects been snacking on the Platform-AI’s brain fabric? Before Sofia barked out the question, the tram lurched five times before rising. There was another issue. Trams ran on smooth, electromagnetic rails. Nothing should cause a jerk during normal operations.

  “Platform. What caused the shudder?”

  “Marshal. I am reporting a tram rail incident.”

  “What happened?” Sofia inquired.

  “A Rail-Maintenance-Bot has become disabled.”

  “Please state the nature of the disability.”

  “The bot’s processor has been disassembled by the roof of your tram.”

  Built and designed to work in the confined space of a tram’s shaft, a Rail-Maintenance-Bot shouldn’t have been hit by the car. Almost an impossibility for the bot to have fallen victim to an industrial accident, yet, as the AI noted, it had been disassembled.

  “The event has been documented,” Sofia informed the AI. “I will return later to do a report.”

  A tram ride was a chance to view the stars and the magnificent exterior of the station. The stars were there but the luster of the station had faded long ago.

  * * *

  The tram came to a smooth stop and the doors opened on the platform. Two steps out of the car and the marshal was stopped by a primate. The hairy beast bared its fangs and shoved its face into hers.

  “A Rail-Maintenance-Bot committed suicide,” the primate blurted out. Moving in closer, the male’s voice reverberated in Sofia’s left hearing bud. “Marshal, I’m telling you the bot could easily contour its frame to the shaft. Either it wanted to die or something forced it to commit sabotage.”

  Of all the Emotionals on the s
tation, this species had the least sensitivity to the physical invasion of sensor range.

  “Stand back,” Sofia warned while indicating the big iron pistol. “Maintain a respectful distance.”

  “Now see here, marshal,” the primate challenged. Backing up, the male raised two upper limbs and assumed a combat stance.

  “Perhaps you programmed the bot for self-sacrifice,” she suggested. Then the marshal made an exaggerated gesture and gripped the buttstock of the big iron pistol. The movement let the primate know she wouldn’t engage in a physical altercation.

  The primate Emotionals added flexibility to the station’s docks, the ore intake port, the waste disposal system, final processing, and transportation off station of the finished products and bins of dust. They possessed a flexibility of mind useful for those divisions. The beetle Emotionals worked better on the middle systems of production where groupthink helped refine the processes.

  By far, the primates were the more aggressive of the two. And the most likely to trespass and violate boundaries. Marshal Blue had a lot of dealings with them while escorting the primates back to their own sections. She never understood the expression so many of the lawbreakers used. Sightseeing.

  “How do you know the bot was enticed into performing the disruptive act?” she questioned. “What guided you to believe the bot was sabotaged? Perhaps you did it.”

  “No, no. I’m making a guess. It’s a theory I came up with while studying the damages to the trams.”

  “Damages?” Sofia inquired.

  “All eight trams are on safety lockdowns,” the primate reported. “My shift is over and I want to get to the galley so I can grab some grub.”