Not Alone - part 3 of 4
In the depths of an uncharted galaxy, a mother and daughter crash-land on a desolate alien planet. Now they must survive…
If you haven’t read part one yet, jump back here.
Part 3
My eyes opened accompanied by a whirring sound. Everything felt different in a way I couldn’t describe. Calling my senses more precise only captured part of the sensation. It was like my world had expanded, like I was wide open to everything at once.
It took me a minute to realize I was inside now. My surroundings seemed industrial. I tried to swallow, but nothing happened. My body felt wrong, all hard edges and straight lines.
“Get a grip,” I told myself. I needed to stay focused to save Em. “First things first, figure out where you are.”
I lay on what appeared to be a concrete floor. Somehow, I knew there was no light in the visible spectrum available, yet I could see anyway. How could that be?
I pushed myself up off the ground, then froze. The mechanics of my movement were all wrong. Taking a couple of minutes I tested my body. It took some time to figure out how to move. I now had eight limbs and my head could swivel more degrees than any human head should. Even without light, I could tell my body was glossy black. As I studied my now inhuman form, I realized how spindly my limbs were.
“Shit!” I’d been put into that damn arachnid I’d pictured. Em hated spiders. She’d never listen to me like this.
I took one step and stumbled. My legs went every which way as I skittered across the floor. It took me a good five minutes to figure out how to move without falling. Having eight legs was a difficult problem—my brain needed time to sort out how to move in my new form but I needed to focus on helping Em.
Once I had some control of my ‘body’, I used my sensor suite to survey the room. Unfamiliar industrial equipment surrounded a room the size of the hanger bay back on the ship.
“What is this place?”
Replication facility 37.
It was that voice again, talking directly into my mind—or circuitry, as may now be the case. I wanted to scratch my head, but I didn’t really have one anymore.
“What is the purpose of Replication facility 37?”
To build the machines citizens require.
“And who are you?”
We are the mind.
Well, that was cryptic. I circled the space, studying the equipment. The entire room was a giant 3D printer. I scanned myself and determined the printer could create sophisticated machines.
Em. She needed me. If she woke up, and I wasn’t there, she’d be terrified. I had no idea how much time had passed.
“The emergency shelter. Where is it?”
A massive door slid up into the ceiling at one end of the room. Dim rusty hues highlighted the decaying city outside. Night was almost here.
In as direct of a way I could manage, I skittered to the opening. Off to the right, the orange emergency shelter shone like a beacon. Em was close by. I took a step forward, then paused.
My new sensors gave me more information than I’d had before. The air temperature sat at minus seventy degrees Celsius and dropping. I brought up the temperature time-series from the last ten years, then applied a prediction algorithm on the data.
“Oh, shit.” I applied another prediction algorithm, but the results were the same—the temperature would continue dropping—and would soon drop below what Em’s spacesuit could handle for any length of time. “Shit, shit, shit.”
I overlaid the planet’s orbital dynamics, and it was immediately obvious why the temperature was about to dip so low. All the planets in the system were tidally locked with the single sun, meaning the same face would always point towards the sun. But the world in the next orbit closer would soon pass between us and that sun, blocking all radiation. It was about to get too cold for our little survival shelter—Em needed to get off world and soon.
“Can you print a shuttle, just like the one that crashed?” I asked the computer. “Except it needs a solid autopilot.”
Affirmative
“How long will it take?”
Two of your hours.
“In that case, you best get started.” I consulted the temperature projections. It was going to get damn cold in two hours. I turned my sensor array back to the printer. It was already hard at work printing a shuttle.
“Okay,” I said to myself. “All I have to do is convince Em to get inside a new shuttle.” I would’ve swallowed if I still had a throat to swallow with.
With an awkward, unfamiliar, multi-legged gait, I headed towards the orange dome containing the most precious person in the world. I’d failed her by crashing our shuttle. I would not fail her again.
When I got to the shelter, I realized my current form was too big to go inside.
“Em!” I called, hoping she was still awake. After no reply, I called again—this time louder. Why wasn’t she hearing me? I checked my sensors. There was no wind to whisk away my words.
This model of droid does not contain a voice synthesizer, nor a speaker.
“What the hell?” I would have glared at the voice in my head if I’d know what direction to look—or had facial features that could make that expression.
You did not specify the requirement.
“I need a voice,” I said, uncertain if I was speaking or not.
Return to the fabricator. Shuttle construction will be put on hold until this new requirement is met.
I did a quick check of the temperature readings. It was already below what Em’s atmo suit could handle—time was running out.
“Just build the shuttle,” I said, afraid I’d regret it.
to be continued…