The Plight of the Bumblebee: Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“Um.” Joe said, after a minute had passed by. “Shouldn’t the emergency lights have come on by now?”

“Yes, definitely,” Dr Daystorm replied. “I can’t imagine why they haven’t.”

“It’s Xenobots,” Mr. Nelson muttered quietly. “I just know it.”

“We’ll take it from here,” Zip reassured him, and then turned to his fellow Starmen. He took out his compad and activated its flashlight component – a small, ultra-bright LED that could last indefinitely. Mark and Joe activated theirs as well, and after taking a brief look around they turned their attention to the door.

Mark tried to open it but it refused to open. “Electric doors,” he muttered. “Aren’t these supposed to have a fail-safe in the event of a power outage?” He called Zip over, and the two of them, with their combined strength, were able to force it open with some effort. After bidding Alfred Nelson to be careful the three of them raced out of the office and into the hallway.

“Let’s go to the power plant,” Zip said. “I think it’s down below – we passed it on the trip to the office.”

“Good thinking,” Mark said. “If there’s a base-wide electrical problem then the root cause can probably be found there.”

“And if there are any Xenobots there,” Joe said, “we can take ’em on in hand-to-hand combat. I don’t suppose you brought along any weapons, did you, Zip?”

Zip stopped, suddenly realizing that they were unarmed. “I know there were some in the Red Tiger but I didn’t bring them with me. We probably should have, come to think of it, but we were in such a hurry to get to the director…”

“C’mon,” Joe urged. “I, personally, will be surprised if the problem turns out to be anything larger than a mouse.” The three Starmen raced down the hallway, deftly threading their way through the restless, lost mob that roamed the pitch-black hallways. Here and there the Starmen saw a few flashlights bob in the distance.

In less than three minutes the Starmen found themselves in the power plant, which was a hive of activity. Technicians were running everywhere, working with various stubborn pieces of equipment, and an energetic man, answering to the name of Brown, was barking out orders left and right. Zip noticed that the room was being lit by what looked like a few strategically-placed flashlights. Evidently, he thought, the emergency lighting system was not working here either.

“That’s odd,” Mark suddenly said. “If we don’t have any power then why do we have gravity? Doesn’t the artificial gravity grid draw a lot of power?”

“It certainly does,” the one called Brown replied. “We haven’t lost all power; the life support systems – of which the gravity grid is a part – are still up and running. It’s only everything else that is down, and we don’t really know why.” He turned to give an order, and Mark suddenly realized that he wasn’t talking to people – he was talking to machines.

All over the place were little short, squat machines, about two feet high. As Brown directed orders to them they roamed the plant and performed tests: some opened cases, some checked wiring, and some tinkered with various pieces of circuitry. Brown noticed the surprised look on their face.

“They’re drones,” he said, “the very latest in robotic technology. They don’t really have any more brains than a pea, actually, but they can follow orders and they’re handy in a tight spot.”

“I had no idea,” Zip said. “When did you get these? I’ve never seen this type of robot before.”

“We got ’em three weeks ago. We’re modernizing here – moving with the times – I’m sure you understand. They’re highly useful – inside, outside, repairs, lifting, you name it. The central computer system gives ’em orders; when something needs to be done it tells the drones and they make it happen. All they need is an order; they can carry it out on their own. Huge improvement over using trained monkeys.”

“Hey!” an insulted voice called out from the back of the room.

Another man in blue overalls, with the logo of an ioneer on his sleeve, ran over to Brown. “I think I’ve found the problem, sir. It seems that a huge power surge a few minutes ago blew a fuse. The fuse it blew was faulty, though, and allowed some of the current to flow into the central computer’s data core, which corrupted it. Since the data core is corrupted the computer is not working and the power plant shut down.”

“Then fix it!” Brown barked. “Let’s get these lights on.”

“It’s not that easy,” the ioneer replied. “Sure, we can replace the fuse – we have them in stock, you know – but the data core has been corrupted. If we replace the fuse the lights will stay off because the computer that runs everything won’t start with a corrupted data core. The core has got to be fixed.”

“No problem,” Brown said. He turned to a nearby drone. “Hey – GR9104. Go extract the data core, bring it to the lab, and see that it’s repaired.” The drone acknowledged the command by repeating it to him and then scurried off. Zip watched it roll over to an imposing computer that was against the far wall and unscrew an access panel; once it was open it extended a mechanical arm inside the unit, gripped something, and then pulled out the data core- a small cylindrical device roughly three inches in diameter and six inches high. Zip knew that that particular data core could house entire petabytes of information; fixing it would be no easy task. The drone deftly placed it inside a padded steel cylinder that was a little larger than a thermos, brought it inside its chest and secured it, and then scurried outside.

Satisfied, Brown had turned back to the ioneer. “While it’s doing that, you find a way to get the lights back on – it’s dark in here – and then track down the source of the power surge. We’ve been having power problems all month now, and – ”

Mark watched the drone leave the room and head down the hallway, and then suddenly he snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute,” he said, addressing Brown. “Where is your data repair center?”

“Upstairs,” Brown said, irritated that he had been interrupted. “Why?”

“Because the drone is headed downstairs,” Mark replied patiently. “Do you have a spare data core or something?”

Brown’s eyes got wide and he rushed outside, the ioneer following close on his heels. He was just in time to see the drone, far below, open a hangar door and roll inside. “After him!” he shouted, purple with rage. “If we don’t get that data core back and repaired in four hours we’ll have to abandon the station! Go get him!”

Even as he gave the order they could hear the airlock door in the hangar below open into space and the noise of a ship leaving the hangar.