[Jedi Apprentice] - 18(13)

The chairman nodded. He seemed relieved to have an assignment, and Qui-Gon hoped that simple tasks would calm the other Vorzydiaks as well. But he had no time to wait and see.

Confused laborers flooded the turbolift. Several of them were rocking back and forth. Others were holding their ears. Rather than force his way through the bewildered crowd, Qui-Gon headed for the stairs and started down.

By the time he got to the twenty-third floor Qui-Gon understood why so many of the Vorzydiaks were trying to block out the noise. The computers on the twenty-third floor were emitting high-pitched whines as they turned themselves on and off. He imagined that the sound was much worse for the Vorzydiaks, who had sensitive ears. To him the sound was irritating and chaotic. But he listened carefully long enough to realize that it was not random.

The chaos grew worse the farther Qui-Gon descended. On Assembly eight the machines on the line were also turning on and off and emitting high-pitched tones. The laborers were completely unable to cope. They stood against the walls, twitching, while gooey food product oozed onto the conveyor and then the floor.

Receiving four was no better. Huge vats that needed to be positioned under the receiving pipes had stalled. Grain was spilling out, making small mountains all over the wing, as well as a slippery hazard for the baffled Vorzydiaks. Several fallen laborers flailed on the floor while others watched in horror, too confused to offer help.

Qui-Gon shook his head. The Vorzydiaks’ helplessness when things did not go as planned was extreme. He could not remember when he had last seen such rigid thinking. In the life of a Jedi, things seldom went according to plan. Thinking on your feet was a Jedi necessity.

At last Qui-Gon reached the sub-basement. There were fewer Vorzydiaks on this floor, so Qui-Gon could make out more clearly the intonations of the machines - the tones and rhythms. Stopping for a moment to listen, Qui-Gon almost laughed out loud. He stopped himself when he heard a cry. For the Vorzydiaks this was no laughing matter.

Qui-Gon ran down the duracrete passage to find a female Vorzydiak standing in a large room filled with circuits. Some of them were shorting out, and the poor worker gazed at them in horror, her arms moving jerkily up and down. She clearly did not know what to do.

Qui-Gon would have liked to have calmed the poor woman, but he knew he would be the most help if he could get to central operations. Turning on his heel, he made his way back down the passage.

The tech at the large terminal was madly pushing buttons, but the readout continued to flash. He jumped when he saw Qui-Gon, though it was clear he had been expecting him.

“Nothing is broken,” he squealed. “There is no electrical or mechanical failure. It is not logical.”

“It is not mechanical failure,” Qui-Gon agreed. “But there is a logic to it. Your computer is playing music. It is conducting the machines in this building to play a specific tune.”

“A what?” The tech stopped pushing buttons long enough to stare at Qui-Gon.

“Someone has been playing with your system,” Qui-Gon explained. “Your computer is making music.”

The tech looked disgusted. “That is just like Vorzyd 5. They like playing games. That is all they do,” he snarled. “Playing prevents productivity.”

Qui-Gon was silent as he helped the tech find and remove the erroneous command. Once they knew what they were looking for, it did not take long. And once the command was removed, the resonant tones in the building stopped.

There was near silence in the sub-basement when Qui-Gon heard a familiar scream. Leaving the tech, he ran down the hall. The Vorzydiak woman he’d seen earlier was still shrieking, but her arms and feelers were still. She appeared to be paralyzed with fear.

Qui-Gon had thought that the circuits were tied into the computer system. He’d assumed that when the computer problem was resolved, the circuits would stop shorting.

He had been wrong.

Looking closer, Qui-Gon saw that he was standing in front of the circuits for the entire city workspace. This was the grid Port had been talking about. The circuit on the grid that marked this office building was okay. But there had been a chain reaction, and circuits all over the workspace were blowing out in waves. The woman next to him pointed at the next hex of the grid set to go.

“This is the children’s hospital,” she whimpered. “It cannot lose power.”

With nothing to go on but instinct, Qui-Gon raced back to the central operations computer. If he could override the network shutdown and flush the system, he might be able to stop the chain reaction. If he couldn’t, this prank would result in more than chaos.

It would result in death.





CHAPTER 10