Free Alder's World Part One: Mass 17 by Joel Stottlemire Page A

but his
normally laid back manner held and undercurrent of
tension.
    “I ’ m looking for Mbaka,
D ’ Ray. Can I help
you? ”
    Fisher ’ s smile
held. “ No man, no help
needed. We were just wondering if you were planning on coming to
the meeting tonight. ”
    Alder crossed his arms and
planted his feet. “ What
meeting would that be D ’ Ray? ”
    “It ’ s nothing. Just
some of us are thinking about the future, you know. We just want to
talk about things. ”
    “Tallen wants to talk
about things.” Alder corrected. While
Tallen was still theoretically Chief of Security on the ship,
Pilton had allowed him to return to duty, he was making a very poor
secret of his intention to try and wrest control of the crew.
Pilton’s stake had fallen precipitously among the crew and Tallen
seemed intent on exploiting the gap.
    “He ’ s got some good
ideas, man. You should listen to him. ”
    “Look
D ’ Ray. With all the forms of
communication on this ship, there ’ s no good reason for you and Tallen to be sneaking off to
have these meetings. If you ’ ve got an issue take it to Pilton. ”
    Fisher shook his head
ruefully. “ There ’ s some folks on
this boat aren ’ t too happy
with Pilton right now. We ’ ve
been following him for more than a decade and look where
it ’ s got
us. ”
    “Further into space than
any human before? ”
    “No man. Into a busted
ship that we ’ re going to be
lucky to get out of alive.” Fisher changed
gears. “ All
I ’ m saying is that Pilton was
picked for space, you know, discovery and all that. But things have
changed. Life on the planet is going to be rough.
We ’ d just like to hear your
opinion. People listen to you. ”
    “And I listen to
Pilton.” Alder glanced back and forth
between the three. “ Do any of
you have anything actually useful to talk
about? ”
    The three shuffled
awkwardly. Ensign Feldt, the smallest of the three finally broke
the silence. “ Yeah. Muuk
ordered more than 10,000 feet of some kind of water proof paper be
made. That ’ s a lot of carbon.
What do they want paper for? ”
    “They ’ re making printed
copies of every blue-print in the ships library, a lot of the rest
of the library too. ”
    “But why?” The other engineer asked.
    “We ’ re concerned about
what will happen when the computer ’ s fail. ”
    The three men
blinked. “ The computers could
fail? ”
    “Sure.
They ’ re optical computers.
Optical computers fail. Even the solid state components
won ’ t last forever.
We ’ re likely to be on the
surface a long time. ”
    There was a pause. “ Wow! ” Feldt shuddered. “ Man, I
can ’ t even imagine life
without computers. That ’ s
like pre-history. Like 20 th century
stuff. ”
    “Or earlier.” Alder pushed his way between the three. “ You should start working on the
idea. I expect the whole system to fail around the eight minute
mark. ”
    “What eight minute
mark?” Fisher asked.
    “Eight minutes before
impact; maximum re-entry stress.
That ’ s when
we ’ ll break up, or be
computerless if we live. Excuse me.” He
slid through the door and out of sight of the men.
    Mbaka ’ s pod was more
like a small factory than an office. No less than four 3d printers
lined one wall, two plastic injectors, one laser lithograph, and
one fusion micro-assembly. There were two assembly bots and a half
dozen work stations.
    “Alder. What took
you?” Mbaka called from behind a stack of
monitors.
    “I ran into Fisher recruiting for
Tallen ’ s
revolution. ”
    “Oh. Well. I suppose that
kind of trouble is to be expected.” Mbaka
had risen gingerly to his feet with the aid of cane. At
seventy-five, Mbaka was by far the oldest crew member. His left eye
had drifted steadily to the side over the years revealing a sclera
dyed yellow by the brown of his skin. The wrist on his left side
was as stiff as that side ’ s
leg, the result of an electrical accident in year four. But his
voice was firm and his disposition