Chapter 10

Professor Amir Ali had to read the email twice. The retired head of the Agricultural Institute of Delhi University had expected an occasional request to speak to different parties. He reached over to the table and grabbed a cinnamon waffle finger. Being seventy-five years of age, he was enjoying his retirement. The trip to Cambridge had only cost him three lectures to the Entomology Department. His entire approach to insect control had always been using natural means.

Complete eradication of insect life had never been his goal. However, the prospectus contained in the email intrigued him. A group of young students had asked his opinion on a proposal they made. The request started, "Dear Mr. Professor Person." He could tell a group of children wrote it. This was before they had announced their team name of "Wonder Women." Images of the American Linda Carter flashed in his mind. In response to the fond warm memory of that tacky television show, he chose to construct a response.

Members of team Wonder Women,

You wrote to me inquiring which species of cockroach has the broadest palate. While it is true that cockroaches can eat almost anything, many of them have a symbiotic relationship with protozoans and bacteria that digest the cellulose, giving the cockroach the ability to extract the nutrients in the fibers. Therefore finding a cockroach that could help eradicate wasted or discarded foods would require introducing some specific microorganisms to allow them to digest some forms of cellulose. However, I would like to suggest using some of the industrial recyclers the Confederacy has installed at waste treatment facilities.

You did however make it clear that you are trying to answer a "what-if academically-based question." In the spirit of out-of-the-box academic pursuit, I will help you with part two of your proposal. The most adaptive, fastest breeding cockroach would be the humble Blattella Germanica, more commonly known as a German cockroach. Its ability to breed and adapt quickly to new environments truly defines this insect as a pest. Now with me saying this, the German cockroach is a necessary part of our ecosystem, as my wife continues to remind me wherever I drop any crumbs in the kitchen.

Yours truly
Amir Ali
Professor Emeritus Delhi University

Joyce Jenkins had the day off from the Macramé Hut. The influx of new concubines to Wayward increased their production beyond the capacity to store the finished product before pickup. She checked with Bill, her sponsor, getting his permission to ask the AI, Vulcan, if their productivity had earned them two days off.

She heard the shriek that came from her daughter upstairs. She recognized Dena's voice. Joyce sprinted to the base of the stairs. "Hobson, what's wrong?" Before she finished her question, she was two-thirds the way up the stairs to the second floor.

"Dena is not injured or in distress." Hobson's AI voice centered Joyce's attention. She slowed. "I am interpreting this as a gleeful response to an email from Earth."

Joyce stopped at the foot of the stairs leading to the third level. "What email from Earth?" The sudden need to protect her child welled up in her.

"As part of research for the Mind Meld Competition, her team emailed several entomologists who reside on Earth." Hobson informed her of the facts. "This is the first response the team has officially received. Along with the entomologist's reply, he included a list of potential references for Dena's team."

"Hobson," Joyce stopped ascending, "if it is allowed, can I see a copy of the email downstairs? If not, Bill needs to read the email."

"The request is reasonable." Hobson's last sentence relieved Joyce. "I will inform the members of team Wonder Women that, since they are dependents, their parental figures will receive copies of the correspondence. This is in line with proper parenting in relation to minors at this age level."

As Joyce turned and headed back downstairs, she pondered the last statement. Did that mean that, as the kids grew older, Hobson was introducing more freedoms? It made sense on one level, but these were her babies. When she returned to the Macramé Hut, she would ask Martha Rey about how she handled herself each time one of her children left the nest. Yes, three of the Jenkins household's kids were now serving in the Confederacy. Another one was a fellow concubine but, at seven, Dena was her second youngest. Her oldest daughter was ten, suddenly the whole next four years transformed into the proverbial tomorrow.

"Hobson, could you ask if I could meet up with Leslie and walk her home this evening?"

The fast cargo ship Mack entered Wayward's orbit the next morning. Randy used the colony AI, Colinda, to peer into the Mack's dark memory. The AI aboard never suspected that it had been probed. In moments, the new information was uncovered, laid bare for perusal.

Randy couldn't even begin to make sense of the data. Even though it was hidden in those parts of the AI's memory used for covert messages, it was still in some kind of code. He knew Colinda would pass the data to Mr. Zucher. He still wanted to try and fit the pieces together.

78 Woodlands Rd, Gillingham, Medway ME7 2DX Naval Reservation 737 25–7 17:25 minimal detail of 6 good luck Toronto King of Clubs

It didn't take long for Randy to discover where the address was on Earth. Even though Gillingham was on the Thames, it did not have a naval base. The address was for a cemetery. There was a chapel and a lodge, though he could not fathom why you'd have a hotel at the cemetery. Randy did not judge, as several of his new classmates used to live in Dover. The soccer games during PE had taken a decidedly more competitive edge since their arrival on Wayward.

Then it hit Randy. The twenty-five minus seven was not a math problem. That was how Emma wrote her dates. '25-7' could mean July 25, a date umh...

"Colinda, when will it be July 25 on Earth?" Randy had just got his head wrapped around the extra hours and weeks added for Wayward's rotation and revolution.

"It will be July 25 Greenwich Mean Time in thirty-seven days and nine hours twelve minutes, from ... now," Colinda answered, precise to a fault.

He stared at the list again, "Seventeen twenty-five is military time." The phrases 'Naval Reservation' and 'minimal detail of 6' still perplexed Randy. However 'good luck Toronto' meant an operative, and the King of Clubs, the head guy's not so subtle reference to himself. "Colinda, please pass that also to Mr. Zucher."

Early the next morning, Colonel Rashmi Saani returned the salutes of Sergeant Capoue and Privates Alou and Zidane. "At ease gentlemen," Rashmi's voice was cool and calm. "I have been given the opportunity to reassign you three for the next month."

The sergeant spoke, "Sir, is my squad being split up and reassigned?"

"Yes and no," came the time-honored noncommittal reply. "You three will serve as part of the chaperones for some students returning to Earth. The remaining members of your squad will be assigned duties here on the training campus for the duration. They will assist during the training exercises. Specifically, for the repelling of boarders component they will provide unexpected obstacles." The colonel handed a packet to the sergeant. "Inside you will find the names of your charges, and a list of responsibilities when escorting students. While you are at Artemis Base, on the moon, you will need to report to Colonel Sabrina Allen. Colonel Allen is in charge of Plans and Tactics or M3. News of the success of your simulation filtered back; she wishes to know the reasoning behind your choice of white phosphorus grenades."

Sergeant Capoue understood the message the colonel left unspoken. "Yes, Sir we understand Sir." Capoue took a moment of pleasure that neither of the privates uttered anything. "May we be dismissed, Sir?"

Colonel Saani smiled, he wished the Sergeant was part of his full-time staff. "Dismissed Marines," he returned the men's salute. They exited the room.