The Hooman Probe

  The Hooman Probe

  By C. C. Brower

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE HOOMAN PROBE

  First edition. May 4, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 C. C. Brower.

  ISBN: 978-1387791651

  Written by C. C. Brower.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

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  Further Reading: The Hooman Saga: Book 2 - Part One

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  I

  THE WOLVES HAD SELECTED an old hooman foundation for the probe site.

  It was circular, and legend had that the old building was mostly for storage and sheltering livestock. Hooman's called it a "barn". Those that hunted in and around it said it was a slave building, trapping the beings within. Supposedly, this was by mutual consent, as the beings who sheltered in that barn had few defences without hoomans around.

  Those days were before the hoomans leaving in their sky-ships. Sentience wasn't widely available until after they were gone. After the plague took most of the remaining hoomans.

  Today, that foundation would be for the ceremony. It would mark where the probe would take place, and where the sentient wolves and their cubs could watch in relative safety.

  Or so they thought.

  No hooman had survived the probe before. But this one was different. No hooman had been to the valley since the days of the hooman plague.

  This was completely new.

  And yet, more vital than ever. The ferals knew where the valley was. And the hooman settlements had been growing in size. Not just locally, but in every area where hoomans still survived. This news was brought by the migrating birds and insects.

  Unless a way was found to communicate with hoomans and ferals, it would mean a new world war that would destroy both sides. A war that would never end until one or the other side was exterminated.

  Tig-she led Soo-she up to the circle and then stopped. The wolf looked at her and sent her a faith-filled prayer for the best outcome.

  Soo-she nodded in reply, then entered the circle.

  A hawk flew in lazy circles overhead, riding the thermals. With a cry, she dove to earth. Soo-she ducked, but the wolves didn't flinch.

  On landing with a graceful back-sweeping, the hawk alighted without a sound.

  Eying the assembled wolves, the hawk bowed its head.

  A shimmering covered that form, which showed a wolf when it cleared. Grey, almost white fur - it was Teacher.

  Some cubs sent to each other about how it was quite an appearance, and found their mothers "tut-tutting" their lack of mental discipline. Soo-she also understood their thoughts and smiled, remembering the "seen and not heard" saying she had been told when she was young.

  The grey wolf just smiled at Soo-she, sending "Welcome everyone. I'll skip some of the formal prayers and notices so we can get started. Our hunters are out protecting us and we need to help them. We need whatever data we can get as soon as we can. I do want to thank each of you for all you've done and all that will be asked of you. Your presence is noted and welcome, as well as our Chief, our elders, and our next generation."

  Teacher nodded at the Chief and then proceeded to a spot opposite Soo-she in the center of the circular foundations.

  "Soo-she are you ready to begin?"

  "As I'll ever be."

  "Then clear your mind and relax."

  The Teacher sat on her haunches and bowed her own head. Soo-she bowed hers as well.

  To Soo-she, it was as if the universe had dropped away. A brilliant white replaced everything except her and Teacher.

  Then she remembered her life from the beginning. She hadn't remembered being born before, seeing the world through her own Mother's eyes and those of her Father, Aunts, Uncles, and other family. She now remembered that there was a dream-catcher placed above her cradle to help her sleep. That same amulet she carried with her in her pouch that was sitting in the Teacher's den.

  Then she was learning to walk, to talk the hooman speech. And to rely on talking rather than sensing. Because those around her wouldn't sense. Only the other babies did this.

  It was true, then, that all knowledge was available to the youngest - until they learned to speak.

  A flood of images came, then: the floor plan of the moon-colony they were in. How the air and water were recirculated and purified. How the food was grown in containers under artificial light. How the elites lived in the original city-ship which then provided heat and protection for the dome of the moon-colony. The mining that had to occur to keep the fusion generator running, but also the other industries that ran in the colony near the fusion exhaust - refraction of metals and collection of slag that was further refined for building materials. How the rare earths were extracted and collected for fine electronic uses. The collection of waste that couldn't be economically recycled or re-purposed. How these were bundled up and launched on a trajectory back to Earth so that the atmosphere re-entry would turn them back to dust. How the theories that moon dust would cause more rain and help purify the polluted skies.

  As Soo-she remembered her youth, all the ways of hoomans came out. The moon colony were the Slaggers, the lowest caste. Then came the organizers, the business people who provided jobs. Then the government workers and officials. At the top were the royal elite families, who inherited their positions from their elders.

  Visions of fine dresses and suits, fashions that came and went. All shown on the TV screens the Slaggers were assembled to watch. Regular announcements were given with awards for high production numbers. Competitions were touted between the various colonies to see which ones could out-produce the others. Trophies were presented to head of business-houses, which would be put on display so the Slaggers could see them going down into and returning from the mines. The Founder's birthday was usually a big event, even though the original founders for each of the city-ships were long dead. In those cases, the shows were extravagant. Pictures of vast audiences and camera's representing each of the colonies were there to record it. Elites had the front row seats, with government behind them, and business owners and staff taking up the rear. Slaggers weren't present, as there wasn't enough room in any single presentation hall. (Or so they were told.) It was hard to tell what was virtual and what was real.

  The Slaggers wore jumpsuits the entire time. That was their fashion. "Make do, do over, or do without" was their watchword. Jumpsuits were cleaned until they wore out. Then they'd be cut down to make children's jumpsuits. When those wore out, their buttons, patches, zippers, and velcro were all removed and the remainder would be used as padding, rags, or to stuff leaks. Nothing was thrown away, everything was re-used.

  You'd see the fashions start with the elites, then move to the government bureaucrats who would wear them for awhile, then down to the business class, but never down to the Slaggers except as patches for their identification and to celebrate their production achievements.

  Soo-she remembered playing with a collection of old patches her grandmother had saved. Their bright colors faded and glitter nearly worn off. Her mother and others kept taking them out of her mouth, thinking how she could pois
on herself if she swallowed any of that glitter.

  At that, she paused in her thinking. The whiteness faded and the wolves and circle reappeared, then the rest of the valley with it's blue sky and rocky walls.

  Many of the wolves had moved back from the foundation edge, and all but the bravest cubs were behind their mothers or elder sisters.

  All were wide-eyed at these thoughts that Soo-she had brought.

  Teacher seemed calm enough. But you could see her own back-fur was bristled from her efforts to understand.

  Everyone needed a break, it seemed.

  Soo-she found her heart beating rapidly, and breathing heavier. She still sat cross-legged, with her hands in her lap, back straight.

  She was appreciating the beauty of this valley even more after being reminded of how stark the life was at the colony. It seemed a life-time ago, but had been less than a couple of weeks. What that translated to in terms of ship-board time would be different still.

  Soo-she noted that the Teacher was perspiring on her lips, and so knew this was a strain for her.

  Soo-she sent to Teacher, "And how are you doing?"

  "Better than I would have expected. And you?"

  "Fine, I guess. Better than running away from ferals."

  Both smiled at her joke.

  Teacher sent, "As soon as our bodies have calmed down a bit, we'll proceed again. All this data will take us days, even years to understand fully. Our next effort will have to be more focused to find what we can use to help us with the feral problem."

  Soo-she knew from that she was also including the feral-hoomans in that statement. All they had gotten so far was not too useful, but promised more. Hooman babies were natively able to send and recieve thoughts, but this was trained out of them, apparently. It wasn't known if there was a genetic time clock running on this, or if it were a cultural problem.

  The idea that lacking telepathy, or thought-sharing, was a problem would have been humorous to Soo-she before she met Tig. But now she knew that between the hooman and feral's population increases, the sentients could be wiped out if something wasn't figured out.

  Her job was to provide them the data, even if it cost her sanity, her health, or even her life.

  Teacher interrupted her thoughts, "Well, we've both calmed down now, as well as our audience. Ready to begin again?"

  Soo-she nodded. And the dreams came back...

  II

  THE SENTIENT HUNTING party had reached the original feral boundaries. The scent of feral wolves and other canine species was becoming more frequent.

  "This place nearly reeks of ferals. It's a wonder they don't hunt each other by accident," sent Snarl.

  Tig replied, "This adds up to the map Chief gave us. The main trails are well used. Just a matter of time before we spot them."

  As if on cue, a feral wolf rounded a bend ahead and stopped in his tracks, stiff legged. His eyes grew round and back-fur bristled.

  For a split-second, no one moved. Then the feral wheeled and ran back down the trail he had come.

  Tig led the sentients on an easy lope after the feral. The idea was to bring fear to them. Their drumming paws on the packed ground was like a steady drum-beat to anyone with a wolf's hearing. That would precede them, along with the frantic report by the feral to its pack.

  As the trail came to a clearing, the sentients fanned out to the edges, dragging dead limbs back to the center and piling them up as high as they could. Once the pile of deadwood was thick and tall, the sentient wolves ringed around it. Tig led the chant, a form of low growling without word we would understand. The entire pack growled the chant in unison. Smoke appeared above the wood pile, and then a small flame. At that they stopped.

  Tig and Snarl led them down another trail which headed parallel to the sentient-feral boundary. This time, the sentients were careful to lope lightly and leave as little sound or scent as they could.

  Shortly after they left, a pack of ferals came up from the other side of the clearing and stopped with they saw the burning wood in its center. The leader led them in single file around the clearing, just inside the trees. They scented as they went, and watched the fire as well. With the smoke in their nostrils, they missed the scent of the sentient's trail.

  All the ferals were bristling in fear and warning to each other. Yapping and growling added to this.

  What the ferals understood is that a party of sentients had invaded, and tried to put the forest on fire. Then they had disappeared like ghosts.

  The pack leader barked once and headed back down the path they had come, back to their main camp where they had left their cubs and sitters. As they ran, the leader would stop occasionally and send one or two of his hunters off on side trails. These led to the other packs in the forest, and to their allies. All must be warned.

  The sentients continued on their way to the next clearing. These clearings occurred naturally, and usually had several trails into and out of them. They repeated the fire tactic, leaving a pile of smoky wood that left a trail into the sky.

  On went the day, the ferals seeing new smokes starting up such that it looked like the forest was magically catching fire across the horizon. Females with cubs were sent away from the fires, across a rivers and around beaver ponds to keep them safe.

  Most of the hunters went with them, as a back line of defense. Only when the cubs and females were safely away from the fires could the hunters form any line of attack. The worry was that this wasn't natural, but some supernatural occurence. Fire was a danger that was known. Fires starting out of nothing was something they couldn't know. Being surrounded by fire would be their worst nightmare.

  So the ferals moved back through the forest and plains, moving back toward the fields of the hoomans, where fire wouldn't burn. Of the two, fire was a worse danger than hoomans.

  III

  ONCE HIS HIS OWN FAMILY and pack were safely between the hooman settlement and the river, the pack leader went to a high ridge where he could see most of the feral lands. He spotted the fires burning in different locations. And saw that these were too regular. Also, that the earliets ones were burning out. These weren't natural, but they weren't all that supernatural. The fires weren't spreading, either.

  After he looked for awhile, he brought his lieutenants up. A short bark and turning to the path would get them following.

  Once on top of the hill, he would stare at each fire in turn, and then back to his top hunters. Then repeat this until they seemed to get it. They would repeat what he was doing and then would look at the others. Finally, all were looking at the fires one at a time and then to each other.

  One got excited and started to howl, but was bowled over by the pack leader. Growling, he sat back on his haunches and looked to the trail beyond the clearing where the first fire had been set. He barked quietly, rose, and went down a trail off that ridge which led off in that direction. His small group of hunters followed.

  IV

  SOO-SHE BOWED HER HEAD again and forced her body to relax. Deep breathing helped calm her heart and bring an inner peace. She said a short prayer under her breath and felt the whiteness reappear, along with her memories.

  "Pay attention, Sue Reginald! I won't repeat this so you can catch up with everyone else. Mark this on your slate!" Her classroom was small, and the students were nearly elbow to elbow. This was the fifth classroom they had used in this last solar year. The tunnels had been moving as they excavated to follow various veins of minerals. Those veins were left from the ancient volcanic activity, and so had taken the lines of least resistance to the surface, not straight ones.

  Rooms were made in the leftover tunnels, as they could be sealed and pressurized. With the high production demands, converting old tunnels to usable space was no priority. If you didn't meet your quota's, it wasn't just the loss of prizes. You'd also lose supplies of food, water, and air. Broken tools would go unreplaced, and that would mean falling even further behind. The highest producers got the best supplies and attention
from management and government. Because they could afford to pay the "management fees" that were required.

  "Wage-slaves pay kickbacks, rich get richer and the poor get to dig more." That was the mantra of the Slaggers, those that brought the raw ore up to the fusion-kilns to be extracted for whatever wealth could be found. The tunnels were dug where the higher-demand minerals were located. And they lived in the old tunnels as long as they were safe.

  It was up to the engineers to guide the slagger crews. The foremen on each crew also organized runners to ferry their ore to the kilns.

  After school, the children would help where they could. Safety was key, but everyone helping was the only real way those quotas could be met. Everyone worked, everyone helped. School lessons were all oriented to being better workers, learning what you needed to know in order to be safe.

  If you haven't guessed by now, there was no Welfare. No organized protesting. No strikes. Each colony had to take care of their own, but the harsh environment dealt out its own justice. Unaware or careless people could get others killed. Any colony with a large number of people not working would fall behind on their quotas and start losing materials to do their jobs. There was no excess to pay people not to work, or to be "professional protesters" outside government representative offices.

  Children got to play, but after their school and work was done. More often than not, this was the treadmills and climbing walls. Everyone spent some time at these daily. While they were fun, it was not only a way to blow off steam, but also to keep your lungs and agility in shape. People who could run from a tunnel collapse tended to live longer. People who could climb out of a crevass could be back working.

  Soo-she loved her schooling, and had enough talent to become an engineer, she was told. Schooling was boring. The classes were tied to the median performance. Teachers had that job usually because they couldn't slag any more. Most often, this was because some accident had injured them such that they couldn't stay on their own job. So the brightest weren't the teachers, but might be slagger administrators. The old saying, "Those who can't do, teach." So she found herself out-guessing the teachers, but soon learned to be helpful to the slower students in the class, as that would raise the median score and get them more advanced texts.