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Stock felt an icy shiver of premonition run down his spine. They’d said the capsules would have an approximate failure rate of less than five percent over the whole term of their odyssey, but that still meant the possibility of losing someone he had come to care about over the last five years. One hundred and seventy-five years, he corrected himself. He wouldn’t let himself entertain the notion that one of them could be Jessica.
The screens flickered into life, reeling names and serial numbers too quickly to read. All of them glowed green, indicating no problems. His heart skipped briefly when the running display paused briefly at two names highlighted in yellow. They were his own and Cross, the amber status a warning they were up after bedtime.
The diagnostic came to an end with no reported losses. Stock allowed himself to breathe again. Cross smiled his infectious grin and began a new diagnostic.
“Guardian, run a shipwide integrity report please, top-level only. I can’t understand the technical stuff.”
“Certainly, Nathan Cross.” replied the AI.
The screens began to page data, one after the other. Cross frowned to see the sense of the figures and schematics displayed there but the look on his face said most of it was lost on him. Stock understood even less.
“If we had anything seriously wrong Guardian would’ve woken up some engineers.” said Stock. “Quit stalling and get to the good stuff.” Cross smirked.
“Guardian, status report, all biomes please.” He said.
Stock watched the reports with a growing sense of pride. All of the artificial environments were not only intact, but thriving. As the charts and tables of nearly two-hundred years of growth and development passed the screens he slowly built up a picture in his mind of the progress the biomes had made. Down through the years plant and animal life had been kept in an almost perfect balance through a combination of their careful planning and Guardians judicious intervention. As the dry reports came to a close he turned to Cross and said:
“I have to see it.”
Stock stood in the eerie silence of the sleeper chamber staring up at the staggered tiers of capsules. The windows of each unit in the arrayed ranks glowed with a faint pink light, their naked inhabitants only dimly visible through the frosted panes. Cross was at the far end of the chamber talking to Guardian, making arrangements for their visit to the biomes.
Stock walked up aisle steps reading the serial numbers on each row. He moved with an unnecessary quietness, as if his intrusion might somehow wake the colonists from their slumber. He passed row fourteen where two multi-limbed bots were attending to the repair of his own capsule. They worked slowly and with deliberation, carefully manipulating the internal workings with jointed arms. Stock pressed on up the metal steps until he reached row twenty-seven and then started along the horizontal walkway.
“Hey!” called Cross from the floor far below, waving casually. His shout seemed inappropriate to Stock in the mausoleum silence of the chamber and it echoed slightly in the dark vaulted ceiling. Stock went back to his search as Cross started up the steps to join him.