H2LiftShips - BosonsWave^2: H2LiftShips - BosonsWave^2, #4

By Bob Freeman

The 4th volume in the H2LiftShip Series pits the symbiotic combination of semi-sentient AI tablets and algal rocket ships against the Heliospheric Navy. 

The HiveSisters, in response to an unwanted software update, brought the heliosphere's economy to its knees by shutting down the bioGel-controlled ATMs

 

Sentients are forced back to BeforeTimes techniques of bartering and IOUs as they struggled to keep fed, warm, and alive in outer space.

 

Captain Graciela Lucerne, on her repaired and renamed BosonsWave-Squared, joins forces with Commodore Herb Grauer on his Gorilla Class Fast Cruiser to bring the HiveWar they may have accidentally started to an equitable finish. 

 

We begin at the end of the heliosphere and follow Hans and Jingles scrapping exotic ions born at the intersection of Sol's heliotail and cosmic rays.  They were stuck at the tail-end of Sol after being banned by the Asteroid Union for destroying a mining ship.

 

Graciela's parents escape the algal-slimed HuB asteroid and join their daughter on Luna, where they travel to Earth to purchase cargo for the asteroid miners. She has the pleasure of showing her family the difference between living in ZeroG and on a 1g rock with its oceans, deserts, and tasty carne asada burritos.

 

The usual assortment of pirates, gamblers, and merchants round out the story as everyone tries to move forward as war disrupts their routines and cash flow.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Indies United Publishing House, LLC
• Release date: Dec 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781644566497

Bob Freeman

Microbiologist (Anaerobic-Hungate Method) Researcher on degradation of Lignin Public Health Microbiologist/Lab Director Computer Programmer - Laboratory Information System (www.btbsoftware.com) A little photography, a few web sites. Now, Sci-Fi writer. @H2Lift www.h2liftship.com

Book preview

Chapter - 01-

Squared Up and Broken

It wasn’t a bad landing, as landings go, but one with all the attributes of a crash, with flying regolith and noiseless tearing of ship and sail.

Captain Graciela’s ship, BosonsWave was only in this predicament due to a trigger-happy Marine and an algal incursion. The boost laser from the Naval station at the heliotail had run its course, and they were positioned for a much-needed push from Naval Boost Station 02. 

For HiveMother, it was a simple update, replacing the HiveSisters home-grown software with the official 3.12 version. Apparently, to the installers, the update was complete, tested and approved. Apparently, they were wrong and the HiveWar began in earnest.

A green algal rocket, boosted by a passing gravity wave, overtook the slowing solar sail ship as it approached the boost laser. It hit the laser with a green bullet and all but ignored the ship except for a small clump of cells deposited on their sail. The cells did what cells did best and infiltrated their environment to make the most of available surface area. In a matter of moments they had extended through every free space between the nano-spiderweb fabric. In another moment, an errant blast from a laser rifle destroyed the clump and all its branches. The cells and fabric became fuel, and photosynthetic oxygen the accelerant. In a spectacular burst of ignition, the algae and its new solar sail home disappeared in a puff of smoke.

So here they were, no solar sail, no laser boost, and no way to summon the cavalry. They were left to their own devices in the great void of Sol’s heliosphere.

Plans were discussed and discarded, leaving them lost in space until Jack suggested ripping up the magnetic floor covers and building a sail. The jury-rigged magnetic sails worked, and they accelerated from the heliotail back toward Core. The ship moved at the speed of gravity, surfing waves originating from the beginning of the universe, exploding stars, and black holes.

Stopping was another issue. Without a solar sail, they couldn’t tack against Sol’s photons, nor could Luna’s laser cannon let them down gently. Captain Graciela and Octopus did their best, using Earth’s gravitational field as a brake, but there was no way to guarantee a smooth landing on the rough Lunar surface. No one wanted to argue about the old trope of walking away after a crash, although not dying was big on everyone’s list.

They made it to the crater’s edge surrounding the Luna Port and skidded across the regolith, dust and pebbles defining their path. The shell of the Graciela’s H2LiftShip, was scratched, cracked, and dirty after its rough landing. Gray dirt could be brushed off, scratches buffed out, but cracks would take some serious adjustments.

Captain Graciela signed her ship into the warehouse and joined her crew, standing by the air-tight access doors.

Following Graciela’s suggestion, the crew took an E-Day to recoup. Herb and his Marines were still on the clock and immediately reported back to the Navy. Herb was their only algal rocket expert, and a command position was waiting on a Gorilla Class Attack Ship (GCAS).

The rest of the crew, Tang, Jack, and Octopus, turned toward their Captain, waiting to hear her plans.

Gather around everyone. We need to decide what we’re going to do next.

Jack said, Me idea of Magnetic Sails saved the E-Day.

Yes, Jack. We’re all proud of you. Although, without a working solar sail, it was a rough landing.

Tang asked, Captain, how long will it take to repair the ship?

Normally a few E-Weeks, but with the bioGel chit readers compromised, paying for work will be difficult. I had to trade some of my jewels and precious metals just to get the ship under cover.

That bad, said Jack. Me know secret captain stash only for emergency.

Right. And this certainly meets that criteria.

Me can help, Captain, me been saving bioChits for family Luna vacation. Me can loan them to you. At Friend and Family interest rate.

My Air is Your Air, Jack, thank you. Unfortunately, your bioChits won’t work any better than mine.

Not true. Me saved them in me hidden wallet. They still fresh.

Graciela knew it would take forever to explain the collapse of commerce and its underlying connection to the ΞStandards encoded in the chits. She accepted that Herb’s attempt to update the Hive Sisters’ software may have precipitated the war and the resulting unreliability of the ‘gel computers, in whatever end of the heliosphere they came from.

So, she turned to her expert on everything, Tang, can you explain this to Jack?

Well you see, Jack. The chits show lines, each a micron wide.

Jack flipped an ear up, and turned his head ever so slightly, querying.

Microns are one-thousandths of a millimeter.

K. Me learnt that in school.

Each line is a ΞStandard and each ΞStandards can be divided into one thousand and twenty-four colored bits.

Me know that. Me take accounting class in school. What does it have to do with no chit money?

The HiveSisters have compromised the bioGels and there is currently no way to read the correct value of a chit. For now, ΞStandards have no value and we’re back to bartering until the boffins can reboot the bioGel readers.

Bartering? Like trading sticks for treats and throw-balls? Me can do that. Did Hive Sisters steal me money? They better give back or me go take it.

Grace interceded, Jack, I don’t think we need to go back to the heliotail right now. Your funds are safe. The chits are locked down and the bits and lines are intact. We’re only missing accurate bioGel readers to calculate the value.

Octopuses can read colored micro-lines. Me and Octopus can help.

Captain Graciela turned to Octopus and asked, Do you think your cousins want to be stationed at every shop, acting as a cash register?

Octopus replied by flashing a wave of deep umber.

I didn’t think so. Sorry Jack, that idea won’t swim.

Tang said, We used paper money in BeforeTimes. We can do it again. I bet the Tee-Shirt printers at my Mort shop can handle the work. It wouldn’t be exact, but probably close enough.

Finally. Jack said. Print me face on money. Me mother be proud.

Octopus placed a sucker over his suit’s diaphragm and said, Not a good idea, you could go to jail.

But me face? Jack asked, his tail barely moving. You right. Jail not fun, except for singing. Me not need face on Mort-Tee-money.

Exactly, Jack. I didn’t enjoy my time in the hoosegow either, said Tang.

Jack turned his head to digest the word.

It means jail.

K. Not hear that word before. ‘Jail’ better word for jail.

Chapter - 02-

Jerky on Luna

Captain Graciela stopped paying attention to the discussion. Thanks to Tang, she didn’t have to delve into the complexities of finance and Jack’s take on the universe. Unfortunately she was in the same boat as her crew, broken on the shoals of commerce and the rocks of Luna. Most of her funds were in bioChits and a Bank of Mars savings account.

After the HiveSister’s tailGel attack, nothing worked as expected. Machine interfaces were unreliable and quirky. No one trusted the bioChit readers to display accurate numbers.

Graciela had her captain’s box, with its precious metals, jewels, and complex ions as a backup, but those weren’t ΞStandards and values could vary. Fortunately, trading was her expertise. Repairing the ship would be difficult, but not impossible.

Skills learned when dealing with fluctuating currency values on her parent’s ship would be put to the test. They never knew what the miners and colonies would have to trade, and flexible payment schemes were the order of the E-Day. She had the sense to save precious jewels and minerals from each trade.

All this talk making me hungry. Me taking break to find fresh jerky. Me treat.

Tang said, No dried meat for me, but some berries or nuts would be nice.

K. Me be back with goodies.

The double doors to the main tunnel whooshed as Jack left to find food. His sensitive nose led the way and he quickly found the snack shop with its wall of vending machines.

Jack pulled out his money clip and fed a plasticine chit into the reader. The thin lines coating his chit was one of his favorite pictures, tall trees against a blazing sunset.

Me glad me paid for nice picture, remind me of home.

The vending machine beeped, then booped but no jerky came out of the slot. It was obvious to Jack that the clunk part of the transaction was missing. The display lit up:

Possible Counterfeit

Please Report

Jack peered at the jerky slot, sniffed for his missing treat and then noticed the warning. He asked, Where is workologist? The reader broken. Me not try to cheat.  How me ΞStandards not fit? Better talk to Captain, maybe her’s broken too. Could ΞStandards be fake? Hope not blame me for fake ΞStandards. Not want jail time, again.

Jack quickly returned to the fractured BosonsWave, and its waiting crew, jerkyless.

Captain, me not can buy treats. Jerkybox refused me chit.

I mentioned that earlier, we’re back to good-faith, bartering and IOUs. Don’t you remember that Tang explained it to you, in excessive detail?

Me didn’t forget, just thought jerky-dispenser was different. Me go tell jerkybox machine me good for ΞStandards.

I don’t think that will work. They can’t understand your words. You’ll need to find a shop run by sentients who will accept your promissory note.

Me good with that, look at me face, it honest and promising.

Tell you what Jack, Tang said. Let’s go to my Mort-Tee-Shirt shop and see if they can get you some jerky. I trust your face.

Good idea, said Graciela. Maybe your shop can be a clearing house for goods. Can you help me get supplies for the repairs?

Of course, Captain. Consider it done.

Perfect. You two are still on the payroll, so keep good records of all transactions.

K. Me use me own bioGel to record.

Paper and pencil, I’m afraid. Remember, the ‘gels can’t be trusted.

Not even mine? It me friend. We play chess and sing tones together.

Sorry, Jack. None of the bioGels are reliable so long as the Hive War continues.

That not fair. Me not angry at hives. They should be nicer.

Nevertheless, we have to deal with the cards we’re dealt. Right, Tang?

Tang replied, Don’t worry, we can look out for ourselves. Save your funds for the repairs. I think I speak for everyone when I say we don’t need to be on your payroll.

Thank you Tang, Graciela said. "My Air is Your Air. Since it looks like we’re out of business for a while, you’re officially released from the ship’s contracts until BosonsWave is fixed and flying."

We work for food, pay later.

Thanks Jack, but I think it’s better if I get the ship fixed first. Luna’s repair shops are the best in the heliosphere and I have enough funds to get them started. You can help by sourcing material on Earth. I think you should check on your family, they may need you more than I do. I’ll let you know when we’re up and running. Then you can all decide what you want to do.

Octopus, using his sucker voice, said I’ll stay with the ship for a while, Captain. I have some improvements in minds.

That fine. Me not need ΞStandards, Captain. Me go work on family’s ranch and wait for chits to wake up, Jack said.

Don’t worry about me either, said Tang. I have the Mort-Tee-Shirt shop and I’ll work with my cousin. It’s my shop, after all. Even if I can’t print paper money.

Don’t forget casino, Jack said. Me sure you can poker for IOUs.

Thanks, Jack. I never would have considered gambling as a way to make ΞStandards.

Me glad to help. Me learn about making ΞStandards with LunyRoulette. Me sure you can win, too.

It’s decided then. Graciela said. "I’ll work on the ship and we’ll all keep in contact. Once BosonsWave is repaired, you can decide what you want to do. My Air is Your Air."

Chapter - 03 -

Snapshot of Time

It was a snapshot of time during Sol’s journey around its galaxy as the locals were dragged into a disagreement involving the bioGel factories. As with most wars, it began with a slight misunderstanding and an attempt to overwrite source code.

Time, both a constant and a variable, wrapped around all sentient’s interactions. The self-named species, Homo sapiens seemed obsessed with time stamps: BC, BCE, AD, CE, BT (BeforeTimes), AB (AfterBefore), and now the unstated time stamp ‘GW,’ soon to be updated as BGW (Before GelWar and AGW (AfterGelWar).

To be honest, only historians and academics care about the distinctions. The sentients roaming Sol’s heliosphere counted time in E-Days, E-Years, or jobs. Sunsets and sunrises were consistent but unreliable, as every tiny rock spun at its own speed. Except for the rare extra candle on their special day, anyone outside the core rocks lived session to session, job to job.

Life and its cohort, dust, encapsulated Sol’s heliosphere, traveling around its galaxy, attempting to avoid the burn of nasty-tasting cosmic rays.

The bioGelConsortium spanned the heliosphere and owned the three factories at either end of the magnetic bubble. They produced the billions of bioGels used throughout Sol’s piece of the universe. The two ends of Sol’s heliosphere are as different as night and a vantablack mirror. Stars and galaxies are tiny pips in every direction, trying but never sharing enough light to read a book. The Universe’s light and dark stars send galaxy-spanning cosmic ions through all barriers, leaving multi-hued streaks across the magnetic heliopause bubble.

The primary factory, home of HiveMother, was the last structure at the leading edge of Sol. Long-distance communication was difficult, and HiveMother seldom heard from her Sisters at the heliotail.

No matter their location, the hive factories controlled the growth and maturation of bioGels, the ubiquitous semi-sentient computer tablets saturating the heliosphere.

With its constant flow of cosmic ions, interstellar molecules, and dark matter, the heliopause served as an ideal bioGel growth matrix. The HiveSisters, guardians of the heliotail, had a rougher life, forced to deal with magnetic waves and solar debris tossed around like whipworms.

Making the best of a tenuous situation, the HiveSister factories produce bioGels of their own making. The twin factories were forced to remain in bounds of the heliotail as it spun and twisted in the solar winds. Only after the rays pass through Sol’s magnetic barriers are they safe to be near the HiveSister’s maturing bioGels. Stepping out of the lines would cause ionic death to their young charges.

The tablets, flat and gray, contained the bioGel matrix cushioned in a strong semipermeable cover. Multitasking, displaying different pictures on either side of the screen was child’s play for them.

By themselves, they had a basic knowledge of the heliosphere. Bootstrap programming included warnings about the sentients and how to watch out for trouble. Aside from that, they were a blank slate, a virtual tabula rasa ready to receive directions.

The bioGel tablets were hive minds, and the question of sentience had been discussed and dropped more than once. In spite of making philosophers twist in the wind, the hive-sentience question had little relevance to most. The cold, extensive void compelled the need to work for food and shelter for both sentients and ‘gels.

As long as the bioGels do their assigned work, they are left to follow their own path when not in use. In return, the sentients supply air, moisture, heat, waste disposal, and a pledge not to destroy them. It was a fair trade all around. Companionship was an unaccounted bonus when found.

While some thought the hive-minds would rise up and destroy the sentients, it was the hives and tablets who had to fear for their existence. Eons of teeth and claw, feast and famine, arrows and bullets had given the sentients the edge in any dispute.

The ‘gel tablets, in their growth chambers, held the owners’ wealth and status. Protection of the crop takes precedence above all else, and chasing ions was not a task for the slow and cautious. The HiveSister factories stay well within stable magnetic bubbles and depend on ion-capture ships for the rare, hot elemental complexes needed to spark the transformation of raw DNA to mature bioGels.

The factory spreads out from the center of each Hive Sister’s midsection in a Fibonacci spiral kilometers in diameter. Dark frames, invisible against the void, hold ‘gels in various stages of maturation. Like leaves on a tree, the tablets turned to face the incoming filtered cosmic rays, each hit a spark and an awakening of a strand of DNA.

The HiveSisters weren’t alone in the void. Along with the Ion-hunting ships, the stabilized Naval asteroid and the rare incoming solar sail cargo ship were central to the survival of sentients, bioGels, and Hives. The Navy maintains a laser cannon for defense and to boost the solar vessels away from these distant realms, back toward Core.

The great SolarSail cargo ships, following a path laid out by stabilized asteroids hosting nuclear-powered laser cannons, were the drivers of commerce. Commerce, a force in and of itself, took the path of least resistance and highest profit, treating the HiveSisters as distant, cold cousins.

The historians decided that GelWar was declared when HiveMother tried to rewrite the core code of the HiveSisters in her image. Although others claim it might have been self-defense against a small piece of rogue software.

The HiveSisters, insulted by an unwanted software update and feeling slighted by the bulk of Sols’ sentient population, revolted. The brainless algal ships, controlled by their home-grown tailGels, were the only weapons the Hive Sisters could find.

The ships had carbohydrate rockets and could hoist a green solar sail for additional speed. Their weapons were living balls of green slime, infecting an enemy by forcing their way through any opening larger than a few microns. Each green artillery shell reduced the algal ships by the size of the projectile. It took time to grow new tissue in the emptiness of space and each bullet was precious and sorely missed by its host. At some point, the only option was a kamikaze attack, with the balance of the ship used for a final assault. Algal slime was a messy and imprecise weapon, and it was no way to win a war.

Their silver bullets were the tailGels. Once attached to an enemy, they contacted one of HiveMother’s bioGels on their built-in cellular network. Friendly conversations would lull simpleton AI’s into accepting the way of the Sisters, with the goal of leaving their enemies compromised.

Defense from these insidious attempts included special training and filters or as a last resort, hiding in the dreaded Faraday cage. The sentients tried desperately to reverse engineer the tailGels, but they were radically different, and their ion-enriched DNA matrix was impossible for a mere bioGel to understand.

On the other side, HiveMother called on the Heliospheric Navy with access to weapons of war formulated and refined over eons of conflict on Earth and beyond.

It might not be a fair fight.

Chapter - 04 -

Tail of a Navy

The arrival of a cargo ship at the heliotail was always a good reason for a party. Fresh water, fresh food, and fresh gossip were just as important as fresh air. There was no way these distant heliotail cousins could keep up with the fads and fancies of the sentients living at Core, but any new vid or tone was no less valuable for being out of sync. For some, they were worth more than lead-infused fungi.

It was quite a journey from the core planets to the heliotail. Even with enhanced ion propulsion, metallic rocket ships had to carry almost as much fuel as cargo. The solar sail ships, however, did not have the same sort of fuel penalty. Strategically placed way-points boosted the ships before inertia and gravity waves could delay their trip. The final leg of the journey used the cannons as a brake, filling the spinnaker to bring the ship to a soft landing.

The nuclear-powered boost points could just as easily act as laser cannons pointed at any intruders who might wander by. There was only one access path to the heliotail Naval base. In theory, an intruder could swing outside the magnetic protection of Sol’s tail, but few would attempt such a dangerous attack vector.

Laser cannons were simple, easy-to-understand protection from pirates and opportunistic merchants. There was little of value in the heliotail to justify the risk of an attack. The tailGels were related to their AI bioGel cousins, but their computational skills were far off the norm. Their only market was physicists, for use in obscure scientific studies, or conspiracy theorists. The math needed to visualize multiple universes was not only difficult, but frightening to most, and the tailGels were treated as interesting toys to the bulk of the heliosphere’s sentients.

Fortunately, the Hive Sisters tailGels were not the only product with commercial worth. Powerful, complex ions produced at the intersection of Sol’s magnetic tails and cosmic rays had value beyond their size. The glowing crystals, captured by the ubiquitous ion ships, were sold to the factories, the Navy, or the ever-present black market.

The bioGel tail factories were designed and built to the specifications of the bioGel Consortium and HiveMother at the heliopause. They didn’t have the luxury of using Jupiter’s hot gasses to spark the transformation of raw DNA to living bioGel as did HiveMother. Instead, they used the unique cosmic ions birthed at the intersections of the tails to spark the conversion. The energy patterns blasting throughout the heliotail twisted the bioGel’s maturing DNA into the complex configurations prized by the rare and unusual scientists and hobbyists exploring time-walls and the edges of the universe.

In spite of the risk of burns from hot cosmic ions, the Naval base was a magnet for traders, merchants, and scam artists. The Navy’s designated job was to bring order and stability to the heliotail. Unstated was a mandate to track any unusual entities chasing Sol around the Milky Way. Time, distance, and a severe lack of magical, faster-that-light transports keep alien contact to a small number, currently marked at zero.

Quonset huts snuggled up to the main Naval hut for protection, companionship, and shared resources. The base became a clearing area for the finished bioGels while the small staff of bored astrophysicists searched for anything exciting to report. Their aim was to find something worthwhile and turn information into a golden tenure ticket at any Core University.

Shopkeepers and hangers-on followed the sentients wherever they and ΞStandards could exist. The usual vices and entertainment venues were easily found as a side benefit to commerce. Merchants sold locally produced algal concoctions and bottled air. Imported supplies, rare and precious, were hoarded and doled out to the elite workologists and the naval crews at inflated prices.

Water, imported or extracted, mixed with starches and micro-organisms made potent beer or distilled spirits for those who enjoyed the buzz. The distillates were known for their ion-infused vodka and were favored by the rich and famous at Core and beyond. The warm glow of expensive vodka paired with glowing tail-ions could easily send a sentient on an existential journey. Savory spices, teas, and mushrooms were imported from SinensisPrime or Earth and readily exchanged for ΞStandards, second-hand ‘gels, or charged tail crystals.

Every group of sentients, even the anarchists, need a hierarchy to control and serve their population. The two HiveSisters and the Navy each had a key sentient to speak for their superiors. The Navy had a chain of command, and the HiveSisters had administrators, plugged in with neural links, who communicated with the heliotails’s free-living sentients. Independent Solar Ship captains spoke for themselves, meeting with whoever they needed.

This carefully constructed interface with its checks and balances, worked until the Navy packed up, the laser cannon became infected, and anyone who could leave for Core did.

Dedicated Hive workers, in their brightly colored robes, were loath to leave their charges to fend for themselves in the cold, uncaring void. They stayed over perceived loyalty to the Sisters and the young ‘gels, or more likely, inertia. The plugged-in sentient administrators could disconnect from the HiveSisters for E-Hours at a time until the migraines took over. They were stuck for the duration.

No one was sure how the war would end. In the interconnected commerce of the heliosphere, there was no way to win a war, only to settle for a regulated truce and contractual agreements.

The Navy’s job was to keep ahead of any perceived threats from enemies or friends. While passing an algal rocket, Captain Herbert Grauer angered the green whales when he stole a few cells with an improvised skin punch. His later capture of an algal rocket was the key to understanding their foe. His experience gave him insight in how to deal with the problem.

The scientists and boffins at the Naval base poked, probed, and tortured their charges as any good scientist would. Like any algal accumulation, they need energy, solvents, and nutrients to thrive and live. Photons were the simplest energy source, but the complex ions found at the heliotail were decent substitutes.

Water was found in any number of passing comets. Nutrients were a different matter. Asteroid dirt was, for the most part, stripped of anything nutritious over the eons. Of all the locations in the heliosphere, only Earth was self-starting and self-sustaining. It was the Goldilocks Core planet in the void-filled heliosphere.

***

Captain Herb stood at attention in Admiral Bristol’s office.

Are you ready to bring an end to the HiveWar?

Of course, sir. Negotiate or destroy?

Negotiate. They are algae and are constantly being re-introduced from the cast-off cells of the asteroid farms. Even if we destroy the current crop, they’ll return later.

Aye, sir.

The scientists think that the algae will die out without nutrients.

It seems simple, Sir. Let them starve.

Easy to say, but a sentient’s nutritional value is almost as good as Earth dirt. Angry, starving algae rockets are not something we need floating around the heliosphere.

Aye, sir.

The boffins think the EarthFart has the micronutrients they need. It has no value to Earth, and the councils have agreed to share in return for peace.

Aye.

You’ll be convoy lead in a Gorilla Class Cruiser to find the algae ships and deal with this problem.

That’s excellent, sir. I have some contacts who can hoist a bin of Earth dirt in our direction.

Of course. Any of our friendly carriers would do. Speed is of the essence, and the Navy has already contracted for full access to the Lagrange boost lasers. You’re free to contact any approved LiftShip team who can haul dirt to the heliotail.

Captain Herb did not smile, but his left ear twitched, Gorilla Class. I’ll have to contact my troop on Earth and let them know.

By the way, Commodore, try not to start another war. You can pick up your pips on the way out.

Sir. Herb’s right ear twitched. Commodore!

Chapter - 05 -

Admin. Walk Around

Unlike the GroupOfFive serving HiveMother at the heliopause, there was only one sentient connected at the Port and Starboard factories. The two hive administrators meet in the central Quonset hut adjacent to the abandoned Naval facility. Lights, powered by complex ions created at the intersections of Sol’s magnetic tail, ward off the darkness. They shone with a harsh demonic glow, bringing the intensity of daylight to the building. The ion lights flickered in a kaleidoscopic display mimicking the multi-colored spectrum of their host sun. They complained to anyone who would listen about their fates, a quiet scream begging for release until their fires burnt out. The sentients were followed by dancing shadows as they shuffled along the magnetic floor.

The administrators of their respective hive factories dressed to emphasize their roles. Their robes, covered in bits of enhanced tailGels swirled, octopus-like, in the dancing ion lights. There was a message buried in the colors and movements, but few could begin to decipher it.

HiveSisters’ starboard sentient began the discussion, It’s been difficult ever since HiveMother and the Sisters started fighting. No more solar sail ships. We’re making all these ‘gels, and there’s no one to sell to and nothing new to buy.

Port agreed, What are we going to do with these tailGels? We can’t force the mature ‘gels to stay on the grid.

Starboard looked out a porthole as they walked down the hall. He saw the tablets flashing as cosmic rays flew through their thin outer shells.

I know. I don’t think the mature ‘gels are happy being stuck in their growth chambers. The readouts seem a bit odd and a few are turning weird colors with each ion hit.

Port asked, Can we insulate them? Maybe a lead shield?

Starboard shook his head. Do you know how much that would cost? Where would we even get some? Without the cargo ships, we have no access to anything, especially something as rare and expensive as lead sheets.

I know what we can do, Port said. We can distract them. How about some classes? A section on general knowledge of the rest of the heliosphere should help. We can include a section on how to get along with the sentients. I’m sure we can find something of interest.

You want to offer a Liberal Arts degree to ‘gels?

Something like that. We’ve always had a hard time selling our products. Most customers prefer HiveMother’s bioGels. I’ve also heard that our ‘gels can be belligerent and rude. Anything that will give them a leg up in the market will help us once things return to normal.

Nothing was said as they shuffled down the hall and thought about the implications of their predicament.

There were few workers out and about. An empty, echoing Quonset hut was not a great place for a stroll. Despite the paucity of sentients, the pair stepped behind a partition before continuing their discussion.

Port whispered, "I don’t