by Ryk Brown
Robert sighed. “No, he didn’t.”
“Knowing Walsh, he’s probably showin’ off for Charnelle. I told you it was a bad idea to let her fly right seat for him.”
“She needed to get back in the saddle, and you know it.”
“I suppose.” After a moment, Gil asked, “What do you want to do, Bobby?”
“You wide-scanned at each waypoint, right?” Robert asked.
“Of course,” Gil replied. “Hell, we even jumped half a light year side to side at each waypoint, just in case his nav systems were damaged and they were calculating their jumps manually. They’re either improvising for some reason, or they got their asses shot off.”
“Either way, we need to know,” Robert decided.
“You want me to jump back to Palee and take a peek? I might be able to pick up his old light and follow it out.”
“Palee is going to be crawling with Dusahn by now,” Robert said. “Besides, I’ve got more propellant left. You should return to the Aurora and refuel.”
“Bullshit, we’ve got plenty of fuel, and I’m sure as hell not going to let you go back to Palee alone. You’ll get your ass shot off, as well. Then, I’d have to do all the work on my own.”
“I could make that an order, Gil,” Robert reminded him.
“Then, I’d have to tell you where to shove that order, Bobby. Now, are we going back to Palee to find Striker Three, or what?”
“We’ll go direct to save time, and jump in about four light hours from Palee. That way we can pick up their old light, and follow it without anyone detecting us,” Robert acquiesced.
“That’s what I thought,” Gil replied.
“I thought you were in charge of this battle group?” Robert’s copilot commented.
“That was Gil’s way of letting me be in charge,” Robert replied as he prepared to jump their way back to Palee.
* * *
“Well, this is different,” Nathan commented as they approached the pair of Nighthawk fighters.
“That was the first thing I noticed, as well,” Commander Prechitt agreed.
“The single-seat version has the front-opening cockpit, as opposed to the traditional, top-opening arrangement on the two-seat variant,” Talisha explained. “Most Nighthawks still flying are built this way. The two-seaters were the original design. The single-seat design was developed later, after the Pilot Assist System was introduced.”
“That’s what they call their AI copilot,” Commander Prechitt explained as they reached the front of Talisha’s fighter.
“Actually, we address them as either PAS or a name of the matched pilot’s choosing,” Talisha corrected.
“Matched pilot?” Nathan asked.
“Each PAS’s personality and thought patterns are based on that of its pilot,” Talisha explained. “This gives the PAS greater ability to anticipate its pilot’s actions and needs.”
“What happens if the ship is damaged or destroyed?” Cameron asked.
“The PAS’s identity core is stored in a module contained in the pilot’s ejection system,” Talisha told her. “If the pilot ejects, the pilot’s PAS ejects with them and can easily be plugged into another ship. This is necessary since the patterning process is time-consuming. It takes weeks for a newly-matched PAS to become familiar with its pilot.”
“Is this a true artificial intelligence?” Deliza wondered.
“It depends on your definition,” Talisha replied.
“Is it self-aware?” Abby inquired.
“Not in the sense that you are likely inferring,” Talisha replied. “It does not recognize itself as an ‘entity’ equal to you or I. It knows that it is a computer program designed to mimic human behavior in order to better interact with the pilot.”
“And it desires nothing more?” Abby wondered.
“It is a computer program,” Talisha replied, surprised. “It cannot desire anything. Why would it need to?”
“Are such systems common on Sugali?” Deliza wondered.
“Quite common,” Talisha replied. “They are in our vehicles, our spacecraft, our homes, our streets, and our buildings. They run all our automation, and they help us with our daily lives. Our more affluent citizens even wear a device on their wrists to provide a connection to their digital personal assistant, which is just another version of the same program.”
“Just how automated is your world?” Cameron wondered.
“All manual labor is performed by robotic systems,” Talisha told her. “Some of them are controlled by AIs, others by human telepresence. It depends on the task.”
“Amazing,” Deliza exclaimed.
Talisha looked puzzled. “We have had such systems for centuries. I am surprised that you do not. After all, the jump drive is far more advanced than any FTL system in common use. One would think a civilization capable of creating such a system would already be heavily dependent on robotics and AIs.”
“We have robotics,” Nathan told her. “But we’ve had some aversion to AIs, ever since the bio-digital plague.”
“Plague?” Talisha wondered.
“The one that swept the Earth and its core worlds a thousand years ago?” Nathan explained.
“I was not aware of such a plague,” Talisha replied. “Were many people killed?”
“Eighty percent of humanity was wiped out,” Cameron explained, dumbfounded at Talisha’s ignorance.
“You’re kidding!” Talisha exclaimed.
“I’m not,” Cameron replied in all seriousness.
“What happened to the other twenty percent?” Talisha wondered.
“Fifteen percent fled to the stars,” Nathan replied. “How could you not know this?”
“Sugali is nearly two thousand light years from Earth,” Talisha explained. “It was founded by one of the first colonization missions funded by the Independent African Nations of Earth. Our people have had no contact with any of the core worlds since departure.”
“By design?” Abby wondered.
“By distance,” Talisha replied. “It took over three hundred years for our founders to reach Sugali. We sent word of our arrival back to Earth but never received a response. We simply assumed the message was never received, and that the people of Earth had forgotten about us. After all, there were many expeditions being launched at the time.”
“Not to destinations that were two thousand light years away,” Nathan corrected.
“Sugali was not our founder’s original destination. It was chosen during transit, when it was discovered that the star of their original destination had become unstable. Although three times as distant, Sugali was the nearest hospitable alternative that could be reached with the resources aboard.”
“I remember something about a lost expedition from one of the IAN countries,” Nathan said. “There were several lost expeditions, in fact. In the early days, the success rate was less than sixty percent.”
“Commander Prechitt told me that you are from Earth,” Talisha stated. “Is that correct?”
“Captain Taylor, myself, and Doctor Sorenson,” Nathan explained. “And, of course, this ship.”
“Then, the Earth and its core worlds have recovered?”
“For the most part, yes, but the Earth fell into a long dark age, and had to rediscover and reinvent most of its technology. If it hadn’t been for the data ark, we wouldn’t be here, now,” Nathan explained.
“Unbelievable,” Talisha exclaimed.
“You would think that the people of Sugali, now that they have jump drives, would have learned about the plague from other worlds,” Cameron stated.
“We have only had the jump drive for a little over a year,” Talisha stated. “Until then, the only other world we’ve had contact with was our enemy. We have been selling off the bulk of our Nighthawks to pay for the construction of jump-capable ships to establish contact with outside worlds. The worlds of the Ilyan are the first we have made contact with. They, too, have shown great interest in our AI technology.” Talisha tu
rned to the open cockpit of her Nighthawk and spoke. “Leta?”
“Hello, Talisha,” the female voice in the ship responded. “Shall I prepare the ship for departure?”
“Not just yet, Leta,” Talisha replied. “I have some people I’d like you to meet. You already know Commander Prechitt. From my right to left are Captain Nathan Scott, Captain Cameron Taylor, Doctor Abigail Sorenson, and Miss Deliza Ta’Akar.”
“A pleasure to meet you all,” Leta greeted.
“These people are interested in your abilities to assist in the operation of complex systems.”
“Understandable,” Leta replied. “Based on my limited sensor data, the ship we are currently on is extremely complex, far more so than the systems on a Nighthawk fighter.”
“What kind of systems are you able to operate?” Abby asked.
“I am capable of controlling any system that meets Sugali Automation Protocol one five seven omega.”
“We are not familiar with that protocol,” Deliza said. “Can you elaborate?”
“Sugali Automation Protocols are designed to create an interface through which an assistive artificial intelligence, such as myself, may sense the state of a system and all its subsystems, and make adjustments to that system and its subsystems, as needed, according to the wishes of the system’s operator.”
“What governs your range of operations?” Abby asked.
“The boundaries established by the owner of the system or its operator.”
“Are you able to exceed those boundaries?” Abby asked.
“Only if exception states are defined and are applicable to maintain the safe operation of the system, and or to protect the safety of any human beings who might be negatively affected by that system’s improper operation and or failure.”
“What if the system cannot be operated safely and poses a threat to the well being of humans?” Abby wondered.
“Then, I would be required to issue a warning to any and all humans who might be negatively affected, and to ask for guidance as to how to proceed.”
“Is there any scenario where you would allow one or more humans to suffer?” Abby asked. “For example, allowing the death of one human to save many?”
“I understand the scenario, but I am not programmed to make such decisions. It is unfortunate, but I would have to protect the first human to be negatively affected, at the cost of numerous humans who might be negatively affected later.”
“Are there versions of you that can make such decisions?” Deliza asked.
“None that I am aware of,” Leta replied. “However, it is possible.”
“Leta,” Nathan called, “are you alive?”
“No more so than the communications device each of you wears on your heads,” Leta replied.
“The comm-sets don’t hold conversations with us,” Nathan said.
“If they were programmed to do so, they would.”
“Clever,” Nathan commented.
“My intent was not to be clever, Captain Scott, but to make a point. Verbal communication is the most natural way for a human operator to interact with a computer system. Although my personality matrix makes me seem human to the operator, it is primarily designed to make interaction with the operator more natural and efficient. My programming was not designed to create a sentient, artificial intelligence. I can hold a conversation with my operator on many topics, but I am only a simulation of a person, not a person in itself. I hope that makes it a bit clearer.”
“Actually, it does,” Nathan admitted.
CHAPTER SIX
Aiden settled on the deck of the cockpit, in what was left of Striker Three, leaning against the edge of the center pedestal, his legs dangling over the opening from the flight deck to the main deck a meter and a half below. His copilot for the day, Charnelle, was cuddled next to him for warmth in the chilly temperatures, leaning against his left shoulder, sound asleep.
Chief Benetti ascended the ladder and sat down on the deck to Aiden’s right, after having spent the last hour studying the only active console on the ship.
The grumpy engineer had never sat this close to Aiden, or to anyone else for that matter. At first, it made Aiden nervous, wondering if she was going to haul off and smack him for getting them into this mess. After an entire minute of silence had passed, he finally had to say something. “What’s up, Ash?”
Ashwini leaned forward slightly, looking across Aiden at Charnelle. “She asleep?” she whispered.
“No,” Charnelle replied, opening her eyes slowly. “It’s too cold to sleep.”
The chief gestured for her to keep her voice down, pointing to the other three crew members asleep in the compartment below. “They’re using less oxygen if they’re asleep,” she whispered.
Aiden suddenly appeared worried. “Something wrong?”
“Everything is wrong, Aiden,” the chief replied quietly. “The oxygen generators are failing, the scrubbers are barely working, and something is draining our emergency batteries much faster than they should be.”
“What could it be?” Aiden wondered.
“Beats the shit outta me,” she admitted. “I’ve been staring at that damned console for more than an hour trying to find the source of the energy drain. Everything indicates that it shouldn’t be happening, yet the battery charge levels keep dropping.”
“How long have we got?” Charnelle wondered.
“We’ll be out of power in an hour,” she replied, “assuming the drain doesn’t get any worse.”
“What about oxygen?” Aiden asked.
“Without power, the O-Two generators and the scrubbers won’t work, so it’s just a matter of time before we use up what’s left inside.”
“No reserves anywhere?” Charnelle wondered.
“Reserves were in the rear section,” Ashwini explained. “I can vent the holding tank for the airlock into the cabin, but that’s not going to buy us much.”
“What about what’s in the maintenance EVA suit?” Charnelle asked.
“Also aft.”
After a moment of silence, Aiden asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve done the math?”
“Does it matter?” Ashwini replied. After noticing Aiden’s expression, she sighed and then answered, “A few hours, if we stay calm and quiet.”
“We should sedate everyone,” Charnelle suggested.
“What?” the chief asked, shocked.
“Survival protocol,” Aiden told the chief. “Slows everyone’s metabolism down so they use less oxygen.”
“Is that really going to help?” the chief questioned.
“It could buy us another hour, maybe,” Aiden replied.
“What if someone comes looking for us?” the chief wondered.
“I’ll stay awake,” Aiden insisted.
“I should be the one who stays awake,” Charnelle said.
“Why you?” Aiden wondered.
“I’m smaller than you, so I use less oxygen.”
“I’m the only one who can fix things if something goes wrong,” Ashwini argued. “I should be the one who stays awake.”
“It’s the captain’s job,” Aiden told them. “It’s my duty.”
“But…”
“If something breaks, I can give you a shot to counteract the sedative,” Aiden told the chief, cutting her off.
“Aiden,” Charnelle started to argue.
“My command, my responsibility,” Aiden insisted.
“I’ll get the med-kit,” Charnelle said, moving quietly down the ladder.
“If we lose power, we lose comms,” Aiden said to the chief.
“I tied one battery into short-range comms and isolated it from the rest of the ship,” the chief explained.
“How long is that going to hold?” Aiden wondered.
“Longer than any of us,” the chief replied.
Aiden cast a sidelong glance at her.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Aiden replied, looking back at Charnelle in the
compartment below as she began administering sedative shots to the other three crew members.
“Listen, Aiden,” the chief began, “I’m sorry about what I said earlier, about it being your fault and all. I was just venting.”
“I know.”
She looked at him, one eyebrow cocked with suspicion. “You do?”
“You’re not as mean and scary as you’d like us all to believe, Ash.”
The chief snickered. “Actually, I’m worse. I’ve been holding back.”
Aiden glanced at his chief engineer out of the corner of his eye. “When?”
Ashwini smiled and headed back down the ladder. Aiden watched while Charnelle gave the chief her shot, and the chief settled down on the deck between Sergeant Dagata and Ali and Ledge, who were already huddled up together for warmth.
Charnelle covered the four of them with two of the thin emergency blankets, then climbed back up the ladder to sit next to Aiden again. “You want to do me?”
“Huh?” Aiden asked, shocked.
Charnelle held up the pneumo-ject.
“Oh,” Aiden replied. “Sure.” He took the pneumo-ject syringe, set the dose, and then pressed it against the side of Charnelle’s neck.
“Here,” she said, handing him another pneumo-ject syringe.
“What’s this for?”
“The reversing agent,” she replied, snuggling back into his side again to stay warm. “So you can wake us up when help arrives.”
“Oh, yeah,” Aiden said, wrapping his left arm around her.
“Just don’t let go,” she whispered as she began to drift away.
“Never,” Aiden whispered back. He gazed back down at his crew, huddled under the silver emergency blankets, not three meters from a warped bulkhead separating them from the frozen desolation of outer space. After a moment, he looked down at Charnelle, who was already dozing off in his arms.
Aiden leaned his head back, staring through the overhead view port at the stars outside as his battered half-ship slowly tumbled, drifting aimlessly through deep space. He knew exactly what the other Strikers would have to do to find them, and he knew the odds. No transponder and very little power meant no emissions that could be read, and their body temperatures were falling fast, which meant that unless a Striker was close enough to see them, they wouldn’t pick up any thermal signatures.