Chapter 10

Andrew, followed by his household, entered the booth and after a quick look around he found a seat and settled down. The booth was one of the many temporary structures that had been set up to facilitate the indoctrination process for the new colonists. A simple plastic panel acted as a separator from the similar booths on either side and the privacy generator kept any noise out and ensured that whatever happened in the booth stayed there.

As Andrew took his seat a holographic image was generated in the centre of the room.

“This is Albion, third planet of the system and the site of your colony,” intoned the AI. “As this planet is completely benign the amount of support available will be minimal at first. The pods you currently occupy along with a basic replicator, medical station and transporter technology will be all that is available for at least one local year.”

Jessica looked across at Andrew and noted that he didn’t look happy at what he was hearing and said, “Did you know about this?”

Andrew shrugged; it actually was the first he’d heard of it.

The AI continued, “The survey team suggested the following locations as suitable sites for townships, each of them offering a good mix of water, power and crop raising soils.”

“Stop!” demanded Andrew, “Why would we need crop raising areas if we have replicators?”

The AI could almost be heard sniffing before it replied. “The replicators work best when the source material is close to the finished product. For foodstuffs it has been found that implementing a basic Soya, alfalfa and corn rotation pattern provides the best mix of raw materials and can reduce power consumption and time requirements by up to fifty percent. This, as I’m sure you can see, results in either an increase in quantity and variety of food stocks or more time for other replication tasks.”

“So we become an agricultural planet with the major aim of increasing our population,” Andrew said and then asked, “What about the military, won’t they be taking volunteers and resources away from us?”

“No, recruitment from this colony has been put on hold for a minimum of three years, it is hoped that this moratorium can be held for up to five years, though that is dependant on the military situation,” replied the AI.

Andrew looked at the hologram that was slowly rotating before him and saw that the island was marked with small red lights, the proposed townships. “How many townships are being established?”

“That figure has yet to be decided,” declared the AI.

Andrew slumped back in his chair, “Continue the briefing, please,” he said.

The AI did as requested, “As with all colonies the volunteers will be responsible for the behaviour of their concubines. In this particular case those concubines will be used to work the fields until sufficient robotic support capabilities have been replicated. At which time it is envisaged that additional new townships will be established to increase living space and to increase the number of concubines that can be devoted to breeding purposes.”

Wendy looked across to Andrew and held up her hand.

“Pause,” said Andrew and the AI stopped. “Yes Wendy?”

“Will we be given a choice as to which role we perform?” she asked.

Before Andrew could say anything the AI answered, “The volunteer will decide which task each of his concubines are to perform, failure to comply on the part of the concubine will result in it being rejected or recycled.”

Jessica looked shocked and Wendy went wide-eyed at that comment, “Recycled?” she gasped.

Andrew was frowning as he listened to the AI, “Yes, recycled through the replicators as raw material.”

All of the women were looking at the young man, waiting for him to say something. Shrugging he told the AI to continue the briefing.

“At this time it is not envisaged that there will be any additional colonists bought to this system for at least a local year, at which time the additional resources should be available to support them.” The holograph zoomed out, showing a representation of the spiral arm, “The Sa’arm incursion is not anticipated arriving in this system in anything under twenty-five years and it is hoped that they will never get here. Therefore system defence is not considered a priority.”

Andrew, still frowning, asked, “So the plan is to dump us here, as we are, for at least a year and than come back and see how we are doing?”

“Not exactly,” replied the AI, “though it may seem like that to the colonists who are on the planet.”

Silence greeted the stark reply as each person came to grips with the thought of being abandoned so far from home.

“I’m the Governor?”

“That’s right, Andrew and don’t sound so surprised.”

Andrew didn’t look convinced, “But surely there’s someone out there better qualified to run a new colony?”

“Probably,” said the Captain, “but you’ve got the job and unless you specifically give it up, or the Confederacy council orders your removal, it’s yours until you retire or,” he added with a grin, “you die.”

“But...”

“Yeah, life sucks,” said Roger Wainright looking at the former Prince. “So now that we’ve got that out of the way what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean, do?” asked the confused young man.

“Do! You know, prepare your people for the new colony, get things organised, establish priorities and all that sort of thing,” said the Marine.

Andrew slumped down and looked as though he wanted to cry.

Roger grinned when the young man wasn’t looking, he wasn’t too worried, and most of what needed doing happened automatically when a colony was established. The AIs had a standard procedure in place now for indoctrinating colonists and ensuring that they were healthy and, in the case of concubines, generally obedient. What Andrew needed to think about, and the whole purpose of this conversation, was the medium-to-long-term future of his new colony.

“Andrew, Albion is being set up as a breeder colony. Its overriding aim is to produce warm bodies.” The Marine held up his hand to forestall the protest that the former Prince was about to make, “Yes I know that’s callous but, in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re in a war of extermination. Survival is the aim of the game, which means, as a race, we have to get out there and spread ourselves. Which in its turn means breeding.” The Marine paused and took a sip of the drink he’d been holding.

“The initial rush was for fighting troops, and if it was left up to the Generals, everyone who leaves Earth would be given a rifle and sent to fight but that would be the quickest way to lose,” said Roger. “We need to get big enough to stop the Sa’arm on our own,” he shook his head to stop Andrew interrupting, “Yes I know we are part of the Confederacy but the rest of them don’t fight!”

Andrew looked shocked.

Roger chuckled, “If you think about it, the other members of the Confederacy have remained firmly in the background. The Darjee are the only race that humans have been reported to be in regular contact with and it’s only their technology we’ve been receiving. The propaganda war has been going very well, but that is all it is, propaganda. Once you get out here you learn the truth and the truth is that this war is down to us.”

“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” said Andrew, sitting back and thinking, “I’m the Governor of this colony and I’m going to have minimal support from the Confederacy because they are either fighting or don’t associate with Humans at all. In addition I have to get this place organised, using whatever means I like, and nobody will care as long as they work and the population is growing?”

“Pretty much,” said the Marine becoming serious.

“Any form of government I like is acceptable?” asked the former Prince.

“Any,” replied the Marine. “Most of the colonies, up to now, have stuck with direct rule by the Governor.”

“But they’re all military colonies, aren’t they?”

The Marine nodded.

“Centred around one or two townships?”

Another nod.

“And the people will all be used to military discipline with a proper chain of command in place,” Andrew steepled his fingers and suddenly appeared much older than his actual age. “Mom said I needed to pay attention in my history lessons,” he mussed, “I can see why now.”

“AI,” Andrew called, “bring up the map of Albion with the suggested township locations on it.”

The hologram reappeared in the air in front of the former prince.

“How many family groups are there and what is the suggested minimum for a township?” Andrew asked, watching the globe rotate slowly before him.

“There are nine hundred and eighty-one volunteers with their concubines and dependants split between the two vessels,” replied the AI. “The earliest colonies were established using the one hundred pod Aurora class colony ships and this was believed to be the ideal size for starting a township.”

A small blemish on the rotating globe caught the young man’s eye, “Stop the animation please,” he called before standing and moving closer. “Can you enlarge this section?” he asked waving his hand at an area of blue between three of the continents.

The blurring motion as the AI adjusted the scale caused him to step back. Across the room Captain Wainright looked on, amazed at how the young man had switched his focus.

The image now displayed showed a small - well, relatively small - island positioned roughly equidistant from three of the bigger island continents. On its northern edge was one of the red dots that indicated a suitable site for a township. Stroking his chin, as he looked Andrew thought on his options without saying a word. He stood like that for several minutes before, “Keep the small island centred and zoom out until all of the adjacent continents are in view.”

The image twitched slightly to centre the island and then it was as if the camera rose and more of the globe came into view. When the third continent was fully displayed the image froze.

Andrew did a quick count and came up with a number in the high teens, he scanned the distribution and it looked about equal across the continents. “That should do,” he muttered before raising his voice, “Divide each of the continents on display into three roughly equal parts, using natural features as the boundaries if possible and indicate the best township site in each of these new zones.” Andrew continued to ruminate on his options as the map grew thin red lines and then nine of the dots began to blink.