Leo Frankowski - Copernick's Rebellion

“So who’d want an ocean liner when he could sail his own yacht?” Guibedo said.

“Not ocean liners. Troop ships.”

“Are you on that again, Heiny?”

“I’ve never been off it. We are heading into a period with too many unknowns. The only thing I’m sure of is that revolutions are never easy. When you act with inadequate information, you inevitably make mistakes. Better to err on the side of security. If we end up with more military power than we need, we have wasted time and energy. If we have too little, we have wasted our lives and the lives of everyone we care about.”

“Okay. We call them troop ships now and ocean liners later.” Guibedo was getting worried about his nephew. Paranoia?

“Now about this dirigible. I really like it, but it’s going to require something pretty novel to power it. Wings that size are out of the question, and oars would be far too inefficient.”

“Well, this is just a first cut to see if the thing really will fly. No motive power and it can’t make seeds. On the next one I think maybe I can grow a big propeller. It grows rigid to its bearings until it’s full size, then it breaks loose. I give you a crank between two bearings, and you make muscles to it like the cylinders in a radial engine. Once it’s going, the propeller eats bearing grease that the dirigible makes to stay alive. I figure I can make it good for seventy-five rpm.”

“You really figure you can make an organic wheel?” Copernick looked surprised. “If it’s possible, why doesn’t the wheel occur in nature?”

“It does. You got to read Berg’s thing on bacteria flagella. The little beggars move by spinning a propeller that’s turned by an ion motor,” Guibedo said.

“Berg, huh. I’ll look it up. So why doesn’t it occur in higher animals?”

“Because there are no intermediary steps possible between a foot and a wheel, Heiny. Natural life forms had to evolve by small design increments. Nature can’t do a radical design like a committee can’t do original thinking.”

“Fascinating!” Copernick said, going over the readouts. “The musculature you describe is absurdly simple, of course. I should have thought of this myself, before I did the TRACs.”

“You leave those TRACs alone. For land travel, wheels are more efficient, but feet are more versatile. And feet don’t get stuck in the mud,” Guibedo said. “I came over here on Reo, one of your trucks. He’s got a real smooth ride. You did a nice job on those leg joints, Heiny.”

“Thank you. I’m proud of them myself. But for strictly tunnel traveling, a wheeled animal would be great.”

“Do it once we have enough tunnels. You had lunch yet?”

“No, thinking about it. Let’s go upstairs.”

No part of the CCU was permitted in a biolab, so Copernick stopped at the CCU’s I/O unit in the hallway. “CCU. Copernick here.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I want you to buy at least ten square miles of land with at least two miles of ocean frontage, as close to here as possible. Have the mole dig a tunnel out to it. Set the earliest possible closing dates, and keep me posted.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Guibedo said, “That’s a handy guy you got there.”

“I’d be lost without him.”

The girls had eaten earlier and were working with the TRACs, so Guibedo and Copernick ate alone, served by Ohura, one of the Copernicks’ two fauns. Ohura was a black version of Liebchen, identical except for surface details.

“You know, I think this is the first time we’ve eaten alone together in a year,” Guibedo said as he began his second mug of beer.

“It’s strange to be without the girls, but I’m glad they’re taking an interest in their work.”

“How come you make Mona work so hard? Couldn’t Dirk or one of his buddies do it?”

“They could. LDUs are almost as intelligent as Mona, and they’re a good deal more consistent. But Mona wants to feel that she’s doing something important. And I think that it is important that each intelligent species is trained by a human being. They’ve got to remember that we created them, and that we’re boss. Otherwise, Uncle Martin, I’ve hatched a monster.”

“EMERGENCY!” the telephone barked. “Gamma LDUs report that a U.S. bomber is twelve minutes away. The crew has orders to accidentally drop an atomic bomb on Life Valley!”

“They start quicker than we thought, Heiny!” Guibedo said, but Copernick was already giving orders.

“Notifiy everyone in the valley that the bomber is out of control and heading this way. Get everybody into the basements.

“I want every bird in the air, except the insect spreaders. I want every TRAC loaded with water for fire fighting, dispersed around the valley and under cover. What’s the bomber’s altitude?”

“Twenty-two thousand feet, my lord.”

“Our birds can’t fly that high. Get every Gamma LDU on that plane’s commander. Try to turn him around, or at least get him to come in at five thousand feet.”

“Yes, my lord. They’re on it. But you know how unsuccessful the experiments with telecontrol have been. There is a good probability that the aircraft commander will resist or not even notice our probe.”

“Any suggestions?”

“None, my lord. Dropped from twenty-two thousand feet, that twenty-three hundred pound bomb will be graveling at supersonic speed. There is no chance of disarming it in flight or of significantly deflecting its course.”

“Then pray, my friend. Pray,” Copernick said, heading for the communications center four floors down.

“Just like a practice run, Colonel,” Captain Johnson had the B-3 in manual.

“That it is, Bill.”

“I thought I’d never get a chance to lay a nuke.”

“Just do it by the numbers.”

“And I never thought I’d be bombing Americans.”

“Look, son. You saw who gave the orders.”

“But still, our own countrymen?”

“That’s just it! They’re not our countrymen! These people have dropped out! They have abandoned America and everything it stands for! They are doing everything in their power to destroy our society! It’s a plot more insidious than anything the Communists or the Neo-Krishnas ever thought of! And it’s our job to stop them!”

“But still—”

“Bill, I’ll take the controls now!”

“Colonel?”

“It’s a commander’s job. Anyway, I don’t want you to do anything you’d feel guilty about.”

“But—”

“Enough! Kelly! Put a chute on that egg.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” the flight engineer said.

“Colonel, you’re losing altitude,” Captain Johnson said.

“This has to be precisely on target, Bill. Any error and we kill real Americans outside of Death Valley. We’ll do it with a paradrop from five thousand feet,” the colonel said.

They were thirty miles and three minutes from Life Valley when they spotted a thin black cloud ahead.

Then they were in it.

A twenty-pound Canada goose bounced off the windshield. Followed by another. And another. Ahead of them, like contrails in reverse, eight long lines of eagles, owls, and condors were flying into their jet intakes. One by one the engines choked and froze and died. The fourteenth Canada goose took out the windshield, spraying the cabin with broken plastic and blood. The colonel pulled back on the controls, but they were sluggish. The plane was losing altitude fast.

“Kelly!” the colonel shouted. Communications above the roar was barely possible. “Set the bomb to detonate on impact!”

“Are you crazy?” Kelly yelled, disarming the bomb. “We’re too low to bail out!”

“I know! But we’ve got to! They’re in my head!”