Tracking the Trailblazer (Colony Ship Trailblazer Book 1) Read online

  “Flatterer. Could you say you have found true love with one person and made a life-long commitment?” She gave him her own grin, but also a more concentrated look into his dark eyes.

  “Commitment? I am committed, yes, I am. I am just an innocent man striving to find love in this world. As the old saying goes, I seek to be reasonably happy. Or, was it, I desire to be happily reasonable? Alas, I forget now, but yes, happiness is something we all need in this dome, is it not?”

  Janae nodded but said nothing more. She was pondering Jamie’s experience, and dreading speaking to Doctor Larson. It was just as she was imagining that, when the door to the office opened.

  “Ken, you are my next client,” Doctor Larson said. “Come right in, and sit down.” Doctor Larson gestured in a way that was more command than invitation. She was about twenty years senior to Janae, and the years had not been kind to her.

  “Oh, the life I have. Yet, another woman calls for my specific attention. Janae, I bid you farewell.” He gave Janae a slight salute.

  Doctor Larson avoided eye contact with Ken as he stood up. But she did note that as he stood he glanced back at Janae and gave her another wink. “Ah, yes,” Doctor Larson stated, “your exaggerated outward expressions of pseudo-masculinity will be one of the issues we discuss—at length.” She tried to put some professional intensity in her words, but to Janae’s ears they sounded more like an insult or mocking.

  “Certainly. Sure, we can talk about. Whatever you…,” Ken stated.

  Janae heard no more as the door sealed shut blocking out all sounds. So, she sat alone in the waiting room, looking down at the floor which was a color which might have been blue, had it not been for a tan overcast to it. After a few minutes, she asked, “Kovalevsky? Did I make a mistake in coming at this time? I thought my appointment was for now.”

  “You did not make a scheduling error,” the AI replied. “I cannot answer if you made a mistake in choosing to come and see Doctor Larson. The Committee suggested it, and you are following that suggestion. However, I do feel it is important to inform you that Doctor Larson’s scheduling history is not consistent. There have been numerous complaints filed about that. Today, apparently, Jamie ended her session early, and Ken is with Doctor Larson now. I do not have access to Doctor Larson’s appointment calendar, so I cannot tell you if she double-booked time slots or not. That practice of double-booking has been the second most complained about feature of Doctor Larson. The primary complaint is about the counseling sessions themselves. The Committee has taken no actions in response to those numerous complaints. I estimate that you will have about a forty-minute wait period, unless Ken follows Jamie’s example and departs early. You might consider mediation for this time period. Other alternatives are also available. If you wish, you could ambulate around, or I could project a book for you to read, or some other entertainment venue. How do you wish to spend this time?”

  “I am patient, but a game of mancala might be fun,” Janae replied.

  “Excellent,” the AI Kovalevsky replied.

  A three-dimensional projection of the game board appeared in front of Janae. It was a deep brown color, with its twenty-four, round, palm-sized pits in two rows, and on each end, were rectangular pits of about double that size. It looked as substantial as the chair Janae sat in.

  “I will play with yellow and green this time, randomize who goes first,” Janae said.

  Smooth, oblong, yellow and green seeds appeared in the round pits on the game board. The projected game was the only thing around Janae that did not have a tint of tan to it.

  “The lot fell on me to go first,” the AI Kovalevsky stated.

  By themselves, some seeds moved from pit to pit.

  “Oh, your typical opening gambit,” Janae said softly. She reached out and could feel the seeds as she interacted with the projection. It was not perfectly the same tactile sensation as picking up a real object, but it was close. Janae had worked in radiation absorbing material suits which covered her entire body while she was on missions outside of Dome 17. She knew what it was like to touch something while having a barrier or RAM material between her skin and the object she grasped. Playing the game through the projection was more realistic than touching an object through the RAM gloves, even though they were very thin and pliable. She was unsure why she recalled working in RAM clothing while she was playing mancala, Janae had been playing simulated board games with Kovalevsky for almost twenty of her twenty-five years.

  “It must be because I am about to undergo counseling,” Janae sighed out. “Jamie is one of the strongest people I know, if it got to her… well, I did not go to Dome 3, thank the stars. Kovalevsky? I am trying something new this time.”

  “Actually, you used that move at least twice before, the latest being three years, seven months, and nine days ago,” the AI replied. “You did win that game, so thank you for the heads-up.”

  “Always glad to help,” Janae smiled.

  And so, Janae sat there and played mancala. She was just one person in Dome 17, the last bastion of life in the wastelands of a ruined planet. She waited for her own time to see Doctor Larson, to discuss her previous missions outside of Dome 17, and to receive counseling. Counseling from a person who never ventured out of the dome. Janae blew out a breath. This was yet another task she had to undertake as one of the adventurers who lived in Dome 17.

  2

  Everbody Has an Agenda

  Ken departed from Doctor Larson’s counseling session no different than he had entered. Well, there was the loss of that time, but that mattered little. If there was anything Ken was proficient at, it was listening to women. After the first few exchanges, Doctor Larson had pontificated long and loudly about the difficulties of her job, the immense burdens placed upon her, and the stresses of her position as one of only two counselors to service the needs of almost fifteen hundred people. Ken refrained from commenting about how she had openings, while Doctor Chambers—the other counselor—was booked solid for some time. Instead, he just gave her the attention she was seeking, added a few choice nods, winks, and smiles.

  At the end of the session, Ken felt like he had switched chairs with Doctor Larson, and he had assumed the role of counselor while she became the client. He concluded with some vague and nonspecific intimations that he was interested in pursuing a deeper interaction with Doctor Larson outside of her professional duties. The slight grin, and nod, she gave him assured him that his allusions had taken hold in her. Although, he had no real intention of fulfilling them, unless there was a lonely night when no one more attractive was available. Then again, he might reconsider, but he doubted it. Sometimes the game was not to reach the finish, but to prolong the pursuit. There was just something about Doctor Larson that gave Ken pause.

  Walking out from the office, he nodded to Janae. She was playing a simulated kind of game. Her AI was her opponent, and Ken considered how much more fun it was to play games with people, than with imitation tokens on a projected gameboard. Janae gave him a fleeting look, but then Doctor Larson called her name. The game disappeared in a wink, and she stood.

  “Have fun, and good luck,” Ken stated, and strolled down the hallway. He genuinely felt some affection for Janae, but was unsure if it was just mere physical attraction, or the fact that she had rejected all of his advances. Only rarely, did anyone Ken desired actually resist his romantic overtures. “Is it the challenge of the unconquerable?” he said in his mind. “Or just the fact that she is pretty, witty, and sweet?”

  Shrugging his shoulders, he turned a corner, and headed toward the hall which led to the cafetorium. He climbed a flight of stairs and came to a back passageway which was behind the food production cubes. Rows upon rows and stacks upon stacks of the small containers were there, situated under grow-lights and in conditions where the fungi materials would mature and then become the food ration bars everyone in Dome 17 consumed. A few attendants were monitoring the process, but it was mostly done automatically.

 
; People were passing in the corridors, and many made room for Ken as he was easily identified as an adventurer. One particular woman walked by and met his gaze. Ken offered a quick wave to that brunette, a woman named Regina, who had striking eyes, and a nice smile. He could not quite place when they had last been involved, but be made a mental note to try to make a reconnection.

  Then, after he had walked far enough away, and stepped off on a side corridor, he said, “Alas, all this adventuring is getting in the way of my more important work. AI Rubirosa? Star Regina in my file, and when I get back to my apartment, remind me of that.”

  “Yes, Ken. Regina is now in the primary position,” the AI replied in a soft voice.

  Ken wandered about and ended up ambling to the educational area, passing the nursery where the latest group of age-mate babies were being raised and nurtured. He knew that the babies were still quite young, but he looked in on them anyway. It was rather exciting to see the next generation of residents of Dome 17. Ken pondered the future for a few moments while he observed. The babies were in an age-mate group of only twenty-five. The current policy in Dome 17 was that a batch of age-mates were only allowed once every five years.

  Looking in through windows of clear permalloy, Ken saw the bassinettes with the babies, the rocking chairs where some babies were being cuddled, and the various doorways to other parts of the nursery. Ken thought back to when he was younger and his oldest memories were happy ones of his age-mates playing in a much larger nursery. That special bond between age-mates was important, and even in the larger batches, like Ken’s, those ties continued to the present. However, the current nursery had been downsized, as the last few batches had been only twenty-five individuals. Older people had been in batches much larger, as Dome 17 had been designed for many times as many residents as it now housed. Ken mused that there were even some of the most senior residents of Dome 17 who had been born outside of the extra-corporeal wombs. He frowned as he recalled learning about all the terrible side-effects radiation and toxins had had on those generations of people. He was thankful for the improved technology which had prevented nearly all birth-defects and other abnormalities that had been so prevalent. His mind flipped briefly to Jamie and Paul and what had happened on their mission to Dome 3, but he rapidly pushed those thoughts away. Still, seeing these perfect, tiny babies, and their caregivers, warmed Ken’s heart.

  “Oh, dear little ones. Your future here inside Dome 17 is bright. Our technology will protect each of your precious little lives.”

  One of the nannies, who was in the age-mate group who were now twenty years old, saw Ken though the window and she gave Ken an inviting, alluring smile. He returned it briefly, but he preferred women who did not look so much like children. He found the women in the twenty-five-year-old batch were just coming into their more attractive stages if life, although, when he was honest with himself, he did prefer the women in the thirty or thirty-five-year-old age-mate groups.

  “Must be something about Doctor Larson gushing out all her fifty something feeling on me. But oh, to be a little kid again,” Ken mused as he looked at the babies. Some of the five-year-olds were playing gently with the babies, and some ten-year-olds were changing diapers, or even giving feedings. “Those children must be on a break from classes. Maybe John has not told them enough about those fish he obsesses about?” Ken laughed a bit as he thought about the man who was nearly everyone’s favorite instructor.

  Moving along, Ken considered heading to the recreation area. He enjoyed ricochet ball, and hoped to find a partner for a game, and perhaps for a later rendezvous. As he walked, his personal AI, Rubirosa, spoke to him, “Ken, I have a message from the Committee. I am not allowed to play it for you unless you are in a secure location.”

  “Can it wait?” Ken asked.

  “I believe you should receive it at the earliest convenient moment,” Rubirosa replied. “I would explain why, if I was allowed to do so, but I cannot tell you more than that here.”

  “Oh, well, I understand. I am not far from my apartment. I will head there now.”

  Meanwhile, Janae was finishing her own session with Doctor Larson, and she was quite frustrated. She had endured it to the end, unlike Jamie who had quit the session, but it was a tough task.

  “Now, I believe we made some adequate progress today,” Doctor Larson stated as Janae was leaving. “But it will take much more time before I am convinced that you are well-adjusted and suitably appropriate.”

  Janae held back a retort and just walked away. She turned down a different corridor and headed toward the cafetorium. She had missed a meal time, and wanted to be around some different people.

  The cafetorium was one of the largest rooms under the dome, and one of the few places where there were clear permalloy sections in the exterior walls.

  “Well, no one here,” Janae said to a big empty room. “I should not be surprised since it is between meal times.”

  She walked over and looked out, placing a hand on the ultra-hard permalloy, and feeling its smooth surface. As she looked out, she noted swirls in the tan winds, but only those slight fluctuations appeared. Otherwise, it was just a landscape of tan nothingness. Not really even a landscape, since dust and wastes were all that was visible.

  “This place must have been more aesthetically pleasing once,” Janae sighed out. Her time enduring Doctor Larson’s version of counseling had been wearisome, tedious, and felt like a waste. “That counselor will never understand what it is like to journey outside.”

  “You are right about that. I know that is true,” a man said from behind her.

  Janae turned around, and Ian was standing there. He too was an adventurer. Only a small fraction of the people in Dome 17 were adventurers, but they tended to look out for each other. He said causally, “I still wonder why anyone would design transparent viewports to see out into that. It is a very good thing that transparent permalloy and opaque permalloy have the same immense tensile strength. Hardiest and toughest stuff humanity ever built, but, frankly, why design windows to see out? Alas, our friend Jerome even sneaks off to peer into that noxious world of that exterior toxic waste. That immense graveyard of tan.”

  “Hello Ian. I have heard rumors about Jerome trying things like that, but are they true?”

  “I have not seen him doing it, I confess, but I do believe Jerome does that as his hobby,” Ian replied.

  “I will stick with mancala, or for more energic endeavors, play some ricochet ball,” Janae stated. “I should get my food and water ration.”

  “Janae, how are you? You seem pensive,” Ian asked. His eyes showed genuine concern.

  Janae touched his arm lightly. “I am just recovering from a counseling session.”

  “Doctor Larson, no doubt. That explains the drawn look. Well, if you ever need to unload what she puts on you, I will listen.”

  “Thank you, Ian.” Janae detected no flirtatious overtones from Ian.

  “The cafetorium is quiet at this time of day. It is a vast cavern of a place without everyone eating. Like the windows, the size of the cafetorium surprises me. I imagine how Dome 17 must have been when it housed many thousands of people. We only use a small share of Dome 17 now. I may just look at the archives and watch some historical records to see why windows and the large sized compartments were needed. Janae, you take care of yourself. No matter what Larson says, you have value.” He turned and left.

  Janae watched him walk off, and then she proceeded over to the meal dispenser. It was odd, as most times there were lines and people ate together. She stated, “I would like my meal now, thank you.”

  The automated system checked her identity with voice recognition and correlated that with the food records. A small panel opened, and a container with a liter of water and a food ration bar came out. Janae picked them up and walked away. She thought again about the tan nightmare outside, but blinked a few times and tried to re-channel her mind.

  “Janae?” AI Kovalevsky interjected. “I have
a message that you need to receive in a secured location. May I suggest you return to your apartment?”

  “A message? Is it from Constance?”

  “No, there is no news about Constance on her mission outside the dome,” AI Kovalevsky replied. “I cannot divulge any additional information about this message at your current location.”

  “I will be in the apartment shortly,” Janae replied.

  Walking briskly from the cafetorium, Janae noted that she saw no other adventurers as she passed various people. That was not too unusual, as there were only about two dozen adventurers in Dome 17.

  Reaching the door to her apartment, it slid into its pocket, and Janae entered. She looked at the bed, cubbies, and toileting area, and it was just as she had left it.

  “You are sure there is no word on Constance?” Janae asked.

  AI Kovalevsky responded, “I will alert you as soon as AI Hutton reports that Constance has returned from her mission.”