Chapter 5[Reality Check - Saturday Jun. 27 2009, 1548 hours, SDF-1 Pluto Orbit] <All right, let's not panic here.> Thallin tore himself away from the view-hole and returned to the computer console in the corner. He sat down heavily in the padded seat and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. <Taking stock. One - My Veritech is probably gone the way of all things by now. Two - I'm going to get fried for losing it. Three - We ain't in Kansas no more, Toto. Four - Macross Island ain't in Kansas no more. Five - Eve is gone. Six - I don't think Pluto was the intended destination so there must have been a stuff-up in computation. Seven - My link with Luna Research was stuffing-up the computer. Eight - I'm really going to get fried for this. Nine, Ten - Never sleep again.> He sighed at the straying of his thoughts and looked at the console. Most of the indicators were still registering red all over the board, making Thallin look closer. "Well, I'll be." he reflected out loud. "I'm still getting telemetry from the Valkyrie. Veritech - Built To Last." He tapped in a few commands on the console's keyboard and confirmed that the telemetry was not a radio ghost of his own signals. He smiled. "Well, that's one less worry off my list. Now for the console." Algorithms and programs ran through the deck, software and hardware checking each other and reporting their finding. Most of the screens were so much crystalline dust, but a few were still active and displayed the reports. The link to Luna Research had been severed when the SDF-1 had folded to Pluto - there was simply no way for the link to be maintained over such distances. Thallin looked at the transmission logs and noticed a sudden increase in packets from the Moon. A closer scrutiny revealed a salami-like attempt to download information into the deck's processors. The transmission of these packets had taken a good twelve minutes and had been completed scant seconds before the Hyperspace Fold. Thallin looked at the listing of system files stored in the deck and noticed an entirely new set of hierarchy in the already-existing one. A thought struck him. He remembered Eve's hurried voice, as though she was trying to finish something before a looming deadline. What were her last words before she was cut off? "Just remember that you need to-" To what? What were these files? A quick rummage through the new hierarchy revealed most files where in some sort of compressed format, with only one in an executable stage. Thallin shrugged and flagged it for running on the deck's main processor. The three remaining screens lit up with a light green light and started a count from one to twenty, then switched off again. Eventually, after a couple of seconds, a list of messages appeared on the central console. < ALL FILES PRESENT >
The cursor stopped its movement and flashed on the screen, waiting for an answer. "In for a penny..." mused Thallin as he reached over and depressed the 'Y' key. The cursor moved to the next line where it stayed for a few seconds before the screen continued its litany. < BUILDING NEW HIERARCHY >
Thallin stared as the console, wondering what was going through the deck's electronic mind. The cursor moved to the bottom right of the screen and started counting in percentages. Watching it for a while, Thallin realised it would be the better part of the afternoon before the installation was finished. Thallin wandered out of the room and into the corridors of the Macross, following it until he came across an interphone. Picking it up he dialled the ship's Tactical Control and waited for the officer on the other to respond. "TaCon. Make it good." "Hi, this is err..." Thallin looked down at his uniform, trying to remember what grade they had boosted him to so that he would fit in with the command structure of the SDF-1. "This is Lieutenant Thallin Braywater, from Research. You have a plane out there, VF-117. Is that correct?" "Yes, the plane hasn't been reported as a casualty yet." Sounds of muffled explosions and screams came wafting over the line. "But we can't be sure." "Why, what's happening?" "When we folded, we took the island with us." "Yes, I noticed that. So?" "And everything on it." deadpanned the voice at the other end. Thallin opened his mouth and closed it as realisation set in. "Oh." "So waddayawant?" "Yes, err... VF-117 should be bringing in another Valkyrie with it. If they make it back, I'd like my congratulations and thanks extended to the pilot, and could the pilot please report to me ASAP? Thank you." The officer grunted something that sounded like an affirmation, then hung up. Thallin's ears were still ringing when he stepped out of Lang's office. He had not thought Lang even knew half of the profanities he had used on him - some Thallin did not even recognise. He sighed, and made his way back to the hangar bay where the deck was still trying to compile the new control core. On the way, Thallin passed the make-shift morgue which had been set-up in a disused part of the SDF. Rows after rows of bodies and parts thereof were arrayed for all to see, some with tags identifying them, some who would only be able to identified when the names of those missing came in. A young woman came running out of the room, head buried in her hands, weeping, and ran down a corridor without looking which way she was going. She turned a corner and was gone. A few seconds later, an orderly wheeled out a trolley with yet another corpse on it, looked at its tag and layed it in line with the others. Thallin moved on.
The deck was beeping softly when Thallin walked back into the hangar bay. Hoping that the compilation had finished, he leant over to displays and started reading the writing on the screen. No such luck - the system had reached an impasse. < THERE IS NOT ENOUGH ROOM TO INSTALL NEW CORE >
Thallin raised an eyebrow in fascination, then tapped a few commands, requesting playback of the message. Eve's computer-simulated face appeared on the screen. "Hello, Thallin. If you're hearing this then the deck has reached an impasse when compiling the new Neural Net core for the interface. This means that you will have to prepare a new interface for the control deck before compilation can resume. This will entail a few actions which may be deemed as non-ethical by your peers. The deck will now print out the instructions for the new core. Good luck." The screen turned black as the deck started spitting out pages after pages of instructions into the printout tray. Thallin picked the first few pieces of paper up and glanced at the requirements. <Cold room, electronic components, access to facility bay 7-G. What the hell is facility bay 7-G? Bio-electronic components, nothing too impossible to appropriate...> The requirements went on for a full ten pages. Thallin started requesting the necessary parts over the computer network as he continued to read the instructions. He grabbed the next page from the printer and paused, his eyes wide in surprise. "I need a WHAT?!"
"Hey, Charlie!" yelled one orderly to the other. "I thought you said to put the next stiff next to number 238." Charlie looked up from his coffee mug. "Yeah Quyen, so what?" "So, where's 238?" asked the other. Charlie got up, shot an angry look at his friend, grabbed his clipboard and scanned it before replying. "Number 238, Christina Leeds. Multiple puncture wounds. Died of internal haemorrhage and concussion." He stepped out of the office and stormed to Quyen's side. "Number 238 is therefore in row five, column 38, which is right over th..." He paused, arm extended. "Like I said," repeated Quyen. "Where's 238?"
Thallin was trying to look inconspicuous as he pushed the loaded gurney down the corridors of the SDF-1 towards the cold-room he had commandeered. He still could not believe he had done this, could not understand why he was even contemplating it. The only thing that stopped him from going terminally insane with worry was the fact that Eve had never been wrong before. Maybe not correct all the time, but never wrong. Still, what would he say if anybody caught him wheeling a dead body around the ship? Thallin rounded the corner and paused in front of the service left, pressing the call button repeatedly in his haste to disappear from sight. He was almost there. Five more minutes and nobody would know where the body had gone to. "Excuse me." said the female voice behind him. "Are you Lieutenant Braywater?" Thallin's forehead broke out in a sweat as his hands tightened around the gurney's handle. "Oh boy."
Forward to Chapter 6.
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