The Energy Scavengers, Page 2

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  In the morning, on the little brown planet known as 33 Pegasi ZZ, a red sunrise heated the low-pressure atmosphere. The sunlight was brilliant and powerful, everything to expect from a red dwarf sun. More than ample to fire up the solar arrays on the space craft and awaken Calvin from hibernation mode. There was no need to check Nutshell, and the COMSAT was scattered into pieces, lost in swift orbit around the planet. So Calvin ported into Nutshell’s mainframe and tried to discern if any of the different antennas were functioning. All were damaged. One of the weaker ones appeared salvageable, and Calvin set to work, adjusting the low-gain device to broadcast toward the last known coordinates of Calisto XI. The signal, merely a basic sequence of low emitted tones, would carry far and provide enough information to let the mothership know something was wrong. Unfortunately the COMSAT, which had a much more powerful transmitter, was supposed to have been their primary means of communication back to the humans. Any number of asteroids, planets, stars or trailing mists of radiation could block or distort the signal. Calisto XI would be looking for the communication and hopefully, with time, the human crew would find it. In the interim, he would gather data.

  The rover tried to reach Nutshell once more, but found no response. There was nothing to do but go outside and extend the solar arrays. After a few hours of 33 Pegasi ZZ’s direct sunlight, Nutshell’s battery would be fully charged and Calvin would know if the spaceship, his only companion left, was functional.

  The hatch opened up, crooked and in the wrong direction, but the drop out of the overturned Nutshell was less than half a meter. Calvin extended his front wheels and carefully rolled forward. He hit the ground with a slight bump, surprised to feel how firm the surface was. Forward motility was good and the soil appeared fairly compact. His first visual scans showed him that deep canyon walls loomed up all around. The time appeared to be late morning, as the sun took longer to reach into the bottom of the canyon. He knew where he was; this area was informally dubbed the “Junk Valle,” due to the dense concentration of junk strewn about. To be precise it was alien junk.

  Near him were piled three large rock-splitting devices known as Gnashers. They bore gawking hydraulic jaws filled with carbide tips resembling teeth. The machines were five times the size of Calvin’s three meter frame. He wondered how or why they had been piled on top of each other. Their jaws hung open in opposing directions like a great metallic totem. Loose wires sprouted where their insides had been gutted and their solar panels stripped. None were functional, and they all appeared to have suffered severe erosion from the wind-blown sands. Though their hulls were worn thin in places, they showed no signs of rust, due to the lack of abundant moisture in the air. Elsewhere, piles of minerals extracted from the mines were scattered hither and thither about the Valle.

  Calvin drove around Nutshell to remove protective covers off the solar arrays. Next, he unbolted long arms of solar panels which were hinged down for the rough entry. These he extended toward the sun like giant reflective ship masts. At the bottom of the canyon they would be somewhat limited in the energy they could collect, but the sun was powerful and the daylight they would get should prove sufficient. Of the seven arms of elongated panels, two were damaged from the collision and would probably only function at half-capacity.

  The rover had a pair of solar cells fashioned into wing-like appendages which trailed off behind him and supplemented his daily needs. Nutshell, functioning or not, would provide the bulk of his power source. Calvin would not be able to travel more than two days from Nutshell’s location, unless he expected to remain stationary in a sunny spot for two weeks to gather enough sunlight on his own.

  As he finished setting up the solar panels and checked that power was flowing into Nutshell’s battery packs he heard a noise behind him. A small servicing robot rolled over to him from behind one of the mineral piles. The white, boxy unit beeped as it drew near and completed a circle around Calvin. He was familiar with this unit; it was called a “robot broom” by humans.

  The unit’s real title was much, much longer, consisting of a long series of ones and zeros, as were all words of the native robot tongue. In previous missions, mankind discovered that alien technology was based on the binary system, just like human technology. By utilizing a base-2 number system, digital communications over electronic circuitry were greatly streamlined. This simple language, acting like a series of on/off switches, could represent any value or character and, thus, a mode was developed for hardware (transistors and wires) to communicate with software (programs and codes).

  “Clean, please?” the robot, known as Broom 223A, asked.

  “Cost?” Calvin queried.

  Everything could be broken down into ones and zeros, a fact that was apparently also realized by aliens. After a few decades of reverse engineering, humans were able to understand alien assembler and compiler codes. With this they were able to build the right decoders so that human-built machines could communicate with alien-built machines. Communication by electrical impulse was virtually universal, and by building off a binary system, almost everything could be broken down.

  “0.23 joules, please,” Broom 223A answered.

  “Price acceptable, agreement reached. Commence cleaning, please.”

  Calvin lowered his central unit for ease of cleaning, as little hoses erupted like quills from Broom 223A. These flexible hoses got to work thoroughly blowing off Calvin’s parts. The robot had requested a pittance of stored energy from Calvin in exchange for a dusting. On most of these mining planets, the robots had established a monetary system providing services or goods in exchange for stored energy. It was considered accepted custom to oblige simple requests, even if Calvin had just arrived and a thorough cleaning was far from necessary.

  While being hosed off, he took in the scenery through his various visual scanners. Piles of machines and metal were strewn along the rocky walls of the immense canyon and in neat clusters about the center. Some of these were scientific robots, probably used by the aliens to explore the planet. Others were simply mining contraptions. A few might be personal computers.

  Calvin had been sent to locate the last group, but so far no such devices had been discovered on any of the abandoned mining planets. For whatever reason, the aliens had taken these with them when they abandoned their mining colonies. When the personal computers left, all direct knowledge about the aliens themselves had also departed. The humans were hungry to find out anything they could about the mysterious life forms which inhabited these planets at one time. Most importantly, the humans wanted to know if the Cahokia still existed, and if so, where they had gone.

  Calvin spotted collections of ore and other substances that had been pulled from beneath the surface. These minerals were piled in tall mounds here and there. Large conveyer belts stretched impossibly throughout the canyon leading to these mounds. The Junk Valle canyon system bested Earth’s Grand Canyon nearly tenfold with a length of over 4,000 kilometers. It boasted a pair of main trenches which ran near parallel to the planet’s equator, and many different offshoots ranging in width from two to fifty kilometers. The northern trench, known to be filled with alien relics, gave the Valle its eponymous name.

  Unknown creatures called the Cahokia (after a tribe of prehistoric mound builders who once dwelt in the North American region of Earth) had left behind their tools and equipment in a thread of planets inside a spiral galaxy just outside the Milky Way. No one had ever made contact with any Cahokia, nor did anyone know what they looked like. The thing was, they had left their machines behind and their machines had continued to operate without any understandable purpose.

  When Broom 223A had finished his cleaning, Calvin provided the required energy payment through inductive transfer cables. He then tried to engage the robot in conversation.

  “Where are the others?”

  “All around, they hide from The Body, until dusk.”

  “What is The Body?”

  The little Broo
m robot extended a single hose from his top and pointed upward to a giant conveyer belt, which ended at a towering pile of ore. With a soft murmur the belts slowly churned outward. A quick panorama showed that this conveyer was attached to another and another, and that these stretched out like a system of interconnected tree branches. Smaller ones connected to larger main arteries, all leading farther down the Canyon.

  “The Snake brings them,” Broom 223A said, indicating the giant conveyer belt system. “There is no knowledge of their origin, please; however, they are always here. Ever present. They will come. You will see.” The robot paused “Are you from beyond the beltway?”

  “Please?” Calvin asked, uncertain what Broom 223A was requesting.

  “Sent here to gather data and nothing else?”

  “I am here to collect information, beyond that I have no further protocol.”

  “I understand. Your exterior markings then are clear.” With that, Broom 223A reversed and realigned induction plates with Calvin.

  “I do not wish another cleaning, please,” Calvin insisted.

  “May your truth be bold and illuminate the way for those who would follow you. The circuit be complete.” Broom 223A proceeded to pump joules of energy stored in his battery units into Calvin until it was completely offline. Then Broom 223A’s power interface withdrew and hung limply in the air.

  The little machine was sedentary. Calvin was uncertain how to respond. The robot had completely given itself over. There was nothing left. This was not the normal order of things.