Citadel 32: A Tale of the Aggregate Read online

  Citadel 32: A Tale of the Aggregate

  By Tom Merritt

  Copyright

  Citadel 32: A Tale of the Aggregate

  by Tom Merritt

  Creative Commons © 2015 Tom Merritt

  Printed in the United States of America

  This book is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License.

  http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/us/

  NOTES:

  This story was written as part of the National Novel Writing Month movement, November 2012.

  Dedication

  To: Grandma Adele.

  All those World Almanacs you bought me paid off.

  Acknowledgements:

  Thanks to NaNoWriMo as always for pushing me to write.

  Thanks to C.J. Harrison who always puts up with my frustratingly ridiculous artificial and contradictory worlds and somehow manages to help me make it better.

  Thanks to Scott Johnson for the AMAZING cover art. He never ceases to blow me away with his talent and creativity.

  Thanks to my wife, Eileen for never discouraging me and always doing something that makes me smile.

  CHAPTER 1

  Corge lay on his bunk watching sugar rock form on the wall. Novelties were scarce in Armstrong Station, so casually guessing what caused sugar rock was something of a national pastime. Its existence was a recent and so far unexplained phenomenon. A perfect distraction for Armstrong’s residents, most of whom were descended from scientists. And distractions were at a premium. They focused so much energy on surviving, they had little left for anything else.

  Corge usually spent his 30 minutes of downtime this way. Sugar rock got its name from the shiny look it gave rock, as if someone had sugar-glazed it. Once it appeared, you couldn’t wipe it off. It wasn’t a deposit. You couldn’t chisel it away unless you chiseled off the underlying rock too. The small number of materials tests anyone had done showed it was composed of the same elements as the rock walls. Sometimes it disappeared without a trace. Corge looked at this new example on his wall. He was sort of glad to see it. Sugar rock appeared unpredictably, and he hadn’t had an example to stare at in days.

  Before inspiration struck and revealed to him the secrets of sugar rock, a buzzer warned him he needed to get back to work. Armstrong itself never rested—and its citizens never rested long. He struggled to his feet, stretched, ducked his head and stepped through the small portal that led out of his bunk-sized room.

  A third of the dome was changing shifts, so the corridors were busy. For Armstrong, “busy” meant Corge could see more than two or three people at once. He nodded to a few folks and headed toward the ventilation shafts to get back to work on clearances. Ugh.

  Corge was a Utility class worker, meaning he never worked the same job for long, but he hated working clearances for any amount of time. It was the worst. He absolutely could not wait to get upgraded to Generalist, as long as he didn’t get assigned clearances as his primary area. He didn’t get to choose that, of course. The Executives did. He could appeal their decision, but they rarely changed one. It would hardly be worth the hassle, unless they gave him clearances.

  Corge found Tracy waiting at the top of Vent Shaft 5. Tracy was an Apprentice, on the verge of being promoted to Utility. She had a little swagger these days, so he guessed she knew it was coming. She shouldn’t worry in any case. You had to be useless not to get promoted from Apprentice. You always got promoted and usually to Utility. If you were a washout, you got “promoted” to Tender. Poor Tenders. Some argued that Tenders didn’t mind being Tenders, but that sounded a little too Brave New World for Corge’s taste.

  “She’s down at the second bend,” said Tracy before he asked. “I’m waiting for a torch-head replacement.”

  “She busted it?” he asked.

  “Nah, but she didn’t want to waste time when she did, so she called for it already.”

  He shook his head. LeAnn was the quintessential Specialist, almost too perfect at her job. He wondered if he’d ever reach her level of perfectionism. Most folks leveled out at Generalist, being pretty good at a few things and taking pride in those. There was no shame in that. Specialists were a different breed. They were consumed with talent for one thing—and they excelled at it.

  He saw flickering light from around the corner before he saw LeAnn. She was using a photon welder that gave off no sound or heat but mended cracks without wasting resources. In a sealed community like Armstrong, that wasn’t only important, it was life or death. Lots of things were life and death in Armstrong. LeAnn shut the torch down and the light faded as he walked up.

  “You’re not wearing your mask,” LeAnn said through hers.

  Corge hated the damned thing. It was really only necessary when vent shafts had air clearance issues. This was an integrity clearance. In other words, none of the cracks could expose them to vacuum. An emergency Specialist crew would have handled an air clearance, not Corge.

  But LeAnn was a stickler for the rules, so he grabbed the thing hanging around his neck and shoved it up and over his face. “Better?” he mumbled.

  LeAnn grunted. “Get on the fader and follow me down. I left you back about three meters, but you should catch up to me by the time I’m done. We’re clearing cracks down to the corner—that’s it.”

  He nodded and settled in for boredom. He didn’t understand how LeAnn could be a Specialist at fixing cracks. She was so smart. So interesting. She had wild, fun thoughts and theories on all kinds of things, from ice finds to Executive politics to Earth. But somehow the powers that be determined her ultimate purpose was pointing a photon welder at microscopic rock cracks and preventing containment leaks in ventilation tunnels. The worst part, to Corge’s way of thinking, was that they seemed to be right.

  Corge drifted along with his work, thinking about a dinner he planned to make out of some protein variants he’d been hoarding. It wasn’t really hoarding. Everybody was allowed a small amount of stockpiling in order to do just this sort of thing, as long as they contributed recipes back to the main kitchen. It was a way to keep the menus vibrant. He was thinking about how to ask LeAnn to try out his dinner creation when the ground shook.

  Feeling the ground shake was the most frightening and horrible thing that could happen in Armstrong.

  Without a word, LeAnn and Corge raced up the vent shaft to the main corridor. Tracy had already run to the nearest com port, but a crowd had beat her there and an older Generalist in Logistics was reading out the news to everyone.

  “Unknown tremor from outside,” he barked. “It’s weird, folks. No internal explosion sensors. No accidents reported. It’s like the ground just shook on its own.”

  “What did they used to call them on Earth—” a woman shouted, “earthquakes?”

  “So this is a moonquake?” someone else blurted out.

  “What else does it say?!” Corge yelled.

  The man shook his head. “Nothing else so far. Emergency teams investigating. Stand by for action. DNR for now. We all stand around and burn air, I guess.”

  Corge had just turned to complain to LeAnn about the slow wheels of Armstrong bureaucracy when both their wrists buzzed.

  “I’m needed in Central Control,” LeAnn said without looking at him. “Wait here until the DNR lifts. I want to finish that vent shaft today if we can.”

  “Sorry, they want me in Central too,” Corge answered.

  LeAnn looked surprised, an unusual state for her, but she motioned for him to follow her. Like Corge didn’t know the way to Central. Sometimes, he thought, Specialists could be a little too special for their own good.

  CLASSES OF ARMSTRONG
OCCUPATIONS

  (An excerpt from the Database of Educational Records)

  The Armstrong Occupational Track System (AOTS) was implemented shortly after Disconnection as a way to allocate resources effectively. At first, the system delineated three teams to which all residents were assigned: Science, Maintenance and Support. The system has been modified and expanded over time to become the more efficient and precise version now in use by the Executives. The AOTS system ensures that people can use their best talents to benefit Armstrong and keep its citizens alive until Disconnection ends. Described below are the available levels and opportunities and the system for making assignments.

  STUDENT – (Levels 1-12) Students can be employed in part-time tasks at the request of Specialists and with the approval of Executive committees.

  TRAINEE – Trainee is a one-year mandatory level for all residents completing the 12th Student level, Trainees fill service occupations in multiple departments.

  APPRENTICE – As the last nondiscretionary level, Apprentice assignments are made to multiple teams based on Trainee performance. Apprentices are similar to Trainees in type but with more responsibility. All Apprentices will be promoted to Tender or Utility.

  TENDER – Tenders conduct maintenance and service routines as assigned by the Executive Committee on Logistics. Prerequisite: Apprentice level.

  UTILITY – Apprentices or Tenders showing improvement are assigned to multiple teams. Utility workers are frequently evaluated for particular talents demonstrated at a high level. Prerequisite: Apprentice or Tender level.

  GENERALIST – The most populated level. Generalists are assigned to a limited number of teams, tailored to individual enjoyment and achievement but varied to ensure against burnout. Prerequisite: Utility level.

  SPECIALIST – Generalists who show an outstanding capacity for a particular task without signs of burnout will be promoted to Specialist in that category and receive leadership responsibility for those teams. Prerequisite: Generalist, or in special cases, Utility level.

  EXECUTIVE – Generalists or Specialists who show broad leadership and management skills without signs of aggrandizement or antisocial behavior may be promoted to the Executive team for general coordination of Armstrong affairs. Pre-requisite: Generalist or Specialist level.

  GOVERNANCE – The Governance Committee and its officers are predominantly elected from a pool of Executives and Specialists. Some positions are democratically elected; some are elected from within the ranks of a particular level as that level’s representative. Officers are elected from within the Governance level itself. Prerequisite: Executive or Specialist level.

  PATH TO PROMOTION

  The Executive Committee on Education oversees assignments and path progression. This committee contains several Specialists in Education and Psychology.

  STUDENT PROMOTION – Curriculum is set by a joint teacher-Executive board. Students who satisfy the curriculum standards are advanced. Students must advance or be treated for disorders.

  NONSTUDENT PROMOTION – A joint Executive-Specialist committee is assembled to confer promotion on Apprentices and Generalists. Executives in charge of departments and teams chose when to promote Utility- or Tender-level residents based on performance and aptitude.

  No appeal is allowed for nonpromotion except through the judicial system. Team assignments above the level of Utility can be appealed on the grounds that an individual knows their own preferences best and that personal preference is essential to good Generalists and Specialists.

  Executive promotion can only be accepted or declined, not appealed. Only the Governance Committee of the whole in conjunction with the Educational Department can alter the system.

  CHAPTER 2

  Central Control occupied the hangar overlook in Docking Bay. A very old but very well-cared-for sign welcomed incoming visitors to “Armstrong Dome – Citadel 32.” Armstrong was neither a dome nor a citadel. Although everyone still referred to “the dome.” The base had actually been built in a subsurface lava tube bunker in the Mare Serenitatis. A temporary dome had existed in the early days of its construction but was dismantled long before Disconnection. On the other hand, almost nobody had ever called it one of the Citadels. It had been dubbed a Citadel politically as a nod to the great centers of power on Earth below. It never towered like a Citadel in either physical form or influence. But the sign remained. Sentimentality for such things was rare in Armstrong. When recycling and preserving every molecule was essential to your survival, you didn’t get attached to material things. Docking Bay was the exception.

  The idea that Earth might someday reawaken and return attention to its satellite never seemed impossible when you were in “The Bay.” So the metal, paint and other materials that made up the sign were off limits for recycling except in the direst emergency. It was the last symbol of hope.

  In fact, it was pretty much the only symbol left. No plaques marked the spot where station officers had informed the staff of the Disconnection so many years ago. The railing where they stood wasn’t roped off or marked in any way. Corge put his hands all over it as he walked toward the door into the Central Control offices. Everybody did. It struck Corge that maybe that was the memorial, the touching of that spot. Sort of like touching a talisman.

  These thoughts fled as he and LeAnn entered Central Control and sank into the buzzing noise that filled it. It seemed to be at a slightly more intense pitch than usual, which was saying something.

  Executive Wenner waved them over to a bank of monitors. Wenner was a high-functioning math savant, one of the few Specialists who had transitioned to an Executive. He was a pattern recognizer. The Governance Committee found that invaluable in the station’s constant battle against entropy, though his talents left little room for pleasantries or charm. As soon as Corge and LeAnn were in earshot, he began briefing them without any kind of greeting or introduction.

  “First the rule-outs. No sensors indicate internal disturbance. It didn’t come from inside the dome. Second, it doesn’t have the characteristics of a seismic event.” Here he chuckled. Snorted actually. “It shouldn’t. There’s no seismology on Luna. But it definitely has a man-made signature. Our best bet is some abandoned piece of tech out there.” He waved in a random direction that meant “outside the dome.” “Location pinpoints it nearest to Vent Shaft 5. What did you observe?”

  Corge was still trying to piece together what Wenner was telling him when LeAnn answered.

  “The crack patterns we were fixing showed no signs of fast action or other odd causes. They were all consistent with normal wear. Nothing unusual. The only thing significant was the length. They ran a bit farther up the shaft than this sort of wear normally does.”

  “How far?” snapped Wenner.

  “I’d have to measure and research,” LeAnn answered, knowing Wenner’s insistence on precision. “But I’d guess a few meters over the average. Nothing outlandish.”

  Wenner smirked at this as if Corge and LeAnn had no idea what outlandish meant. Then he turned the smirk on Corge.

  “What did you notice?”

  Corge wasn’t sure how to answer. “Well, I had just got back from break. I hadn’t started working yet when the explosion happened.”

  “Disturbance. Shaking. Disruption. Not explosion. Explosion is much too precise. We don’t know enough to call it an explosion. And we sure aren’t going to figure it out if I don’t get all the information, Corge. So stop worrying about what you think I’m going to think about what you say. Just tell me everything you noticed from the moment you arrived at the shaft. Don’t leave anything out.”

  Corge sighed. He told Wenner everything he could think of from the moment he arrived and spoke to Tracy until the explos— disruption.

  “What about Tracy? What was she doing when you arrived?” probed Wenner.

  “Nothing really. Just standing there.”

  “In what manner?”

  “What?”

  “How,” Wenner paused and jus
t barely didn’t roll his eyes, “was she standing there?”

  “Normally? Relaxed. On two feet?” Corge couldn’t figure out for the life of him what Wenner meant.

  “Where was she looking?”

  “At me.”

  “From the moment you saw her.”

  Corge had to think about that one. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m pretty sure. She was looking up the corridor for me. Saw me as soon as I came around the corner.”

  “Where were her hands? What were they doing?”

  This was getting ridiculous. Corge wasn’t a memetic. “I don’t remember. At her sides, I think. I really don’t recall.”

  “Good,” Wenner seemed to relax at this. “What about during your break? What did you do? What did you see?”

  Corge was certain his break wasn’t relevant. His bunk was far from the vent shaft. But he was quickly figuring out Wenner wanted him to just answer anyway.

  “I pretty much laid there thinking. I didn’t run any progs or get on coms. Just laid there looking at the sugar rock on my wall.”

  “How long has the sugar rock been there?”

  “It’s new. Just showed up today.”

  Wenner’s head snapped up and he looked joyful. Obviously this was somehow important or pleasing, but Corge had no idea how that could be. Sugar rock appeared and disappeared all the time.

  Wenner was already on coms. “Send a team to Corge’s bunk. Collect the sugar rock off his wall. Try not to break anything. He needs to continue to occupy the bunk.”

  The most frightening thing about that conversation to Corge was the fact that Wenner had to specify not to break stuff.