Cole put each of his index fingers together on the back of his neck and swept them forward, never breaking contact with his neck, until they met under his chin. A prompt appeared in his field of view.
Do you wish to exit the suit?
[Wink left for ‘Yes.’ Wink right for ‘No.’]
Cole winked his left eye, and the helmet detached from the suit as the suit unzipped from his shoulders to his tailbone in one smooth action. Cole removed the helmet first and set it on the floor; then, he pushed the suit off to join the helmet. The suit didn’t appear to be sentient or self-aware, but Cole hoped it wasn’t offended by being left on the floor.
From there, Cole went to what passed for a medbay in the mining camp, heading straight for the auto-doc. The read-out showed eight hours and forty minutes remaining in its treatment cycle, and Cole frowned.
It took me maybe forty minutes to find that ship, Cole thought, and if I was unconscious for six hours, that means the total elapsed time should be around seven hours with my transit back here. Fourteen minus seven equals seven, so where did the extra hour and forty minutes come from?
Cole tapped the auto-doc’s controls to see if he could find any information on the discrepancy, because the time-stamp on the read-out was about right for being gone seven hours. After a few moments of pecking controls, Cole found the information in the auto-doc’s logs. A supplemental treatment plan had been uploaded to the auto-doc two hours ago, increasing the total time to fifteen hours and forty minutes.
Cole accessed the supplemental treatment plan and had the auto-doc display it on a nearby screen. The screen activated, and the information it displayed reinforced Cole’s lack of medical training. As best he could determine, the plan was some kind of genetic therapy for…something. Cole wasn’t sure what. The therapy seemed to modify gene sequences at random for all Cole could tell.
Cole sighed and shook his head. Ah, well…as long as she gets the treatment she needs.
He turned and entered the dining room and froze. The various pieces of flatware and dining utensils were no longer scattered all over the floor. There was food missing from the dispensary, and the tables looked like they had been cleaned.
Okay, Cole thought. There’s someone else here, but why haven’t they come out to meet me? The airlock chimes loud tones as it operates; they have to know I’m here.
Before Cole could conduct a systematic search of the mining camp, a wailing tone drew his attention. He followed the tone to a panel just down the corridor from the medbay. A red border flashed as the panel’s bold-faced text flashed from white to red. Cole read the text and felt his stomach clench.
Oxygen leak detected but not localized.
Two days of breathable air remaining at
current rate of leakage.
Cole took a deep breath. He could try to find the leak, but he wasn’t an engineer or a damage control specialist. Sure…he could perform basic repairs of basic systems; what spacer couldn’t? But repairing an air leak was a different animal, even if he could find a patching kit.
Cole wasn’t worried so much for the castaway. Medical pods—known almost universally as auto-docs—could operate for a limited time without a connection to a power supply or life support. In fact, they were often used to transport patients in critical condition when the patient wasn’t stable enough to move. No, the concern was the other people he hadn’t met. Cole had no idea who they were or if they had any way off this soon to be uninhabitable rock. Suits would only last so long.
All this flitted through Cole’s head as he stood at the alert panel. He was just about to turn away from the panel when he heard a faint sound off to his left, like a squeak or an ‘eeep!’ Cole pivoted toward the sound and saw the briefest shadow of movement at the intersection a few meters away, where the corridor he was in met another, creating a ‘T’ junction. Cole pursued.
Turning the corner in the direction he thought he had seen the motion, Cole found the corridor vacant. A hatch about three meters down the corridor on his left closed, though, and Cole headed for it. He made sure to be standing at arms’ length from the hatchway when he pressed the control to open the hatch and jerked his hand back.
The hatch slid left into the bulkhead, and the moment there was space between the opening hatch and the hatchway, a furry hand with four digits and claws swiped through the space his hand and arm had occupied just moments before. Cole wasn’t the wisest human in space, but a clawed hand swiping through air that his arm and hand had just occupied was an excellent indicator he should take a step or two back. And he did. Moments later, the hatch was open, and Cole faced a tawny-furred Ghrexel…hands up, claws out, and ready to fight.
The Ghrexel were the first alien species humans had encountered in their exploration and expansion, and humans did not (perhaps) make the best first impression when one of the crew gasped, “Neat! They’re kitty-cats,” and the communications system recorded it. When the Ghrexel learned Human Standard, it took humans almost fifteen years to convince the Ghrexel that the comment had not in fact been derogatory. The comment was rather accurate, though.
Unlike Earth, the dominant species on the planet Myxtraal were intelligent, tool-using felinoids. They walked upright, used a spoken language (several in fact), and had developed opposable thumbs…that just happened to have a claw, like the other three digits of their hands. They also had tails, for the most part, and their fur ranged in color and pattern almost as widely as human skin pigmentation and hair color.
The Ghrexel Cole now faced stepped further into the corridor, and Cole thought the odds favored the Ghrexel being female. Her head was almost level with Cole’s shoulders, and her tawny fur had black stripes, those stripes becoming rings on her tail. Her eyes were locked on Cole as she stepped into the corridor. Movement behind her drew Cole’s eyes, and for the first time, Cole felt true fear. The head of a Ghrexel child peeked around the hatch combing.
“Do you understand Human Standard?” Cole asked.
The female Ghrexel’s eyes narrowed. “Of course. After all, you need to speak to your kitty cats.”
“Uhm, ‘my kitty cats?’ I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“You humans are all the same. If one of you think you can own one of my people, you all think you can.”
Cole felt his eyes widen. “Uhm, no. As a matter of fact, we can’t own members of a sentient species. Every civilization has outlawed slavery.”
“And just which civilization controls this system, Human?”
Oh. Right. The Pyllesc system was an unclaimed, unaligned system.
“That’s a fair point, but I’m sure whatever human claimed you is no longer alive. There appears to have been a massive explosion in the mining shaft, and debris from that shredded the airlock facing the mining shaft with the people trying to respond to the explosion inside it. Unless you know of someone else in this mining camp, I’m sure you two are the only survivors, and I mean you no harm. An Aurelian destroyer shot my freighter out from under me, and someone on that ship ejected the woman in the auto-doc into space before they departed.”
The Ghrexel was silent for a few moments before lowering her hands and retracting her claws.
“I apologize for my reaction. It is possible my time with Director Vorhees led me to think the worst of your species.”
Cole extended his right hand, saying, “I’m Cole.”
The Ghrexel accepted Cole’s hand and gave him a firm handshake. “I am Yeleth. My young one is Wixil. Wixil, come here, please.”
The Ghrexel Cole had seen peeking out of the compartment stepped into the corridor. Cole believed this Ghrexel to be female also, as she moved to stand more behind Yeleth than beside her. Her head came up just to Yeleth’s shoulders, and Cole saw her fur was utter black with thick, fiery-orange stripes that became rings around her tail. She peeked out from behind her mother at Cole, her ears standing up and facing front.
Yeleth put her right arm around Wixil, saying, “This is my y
oung one, Wixil.”
Cole nodded in greeting. “Hello, Wixil. I’m Cole. I know we just met, but you don’t need to fear me. I will not hurt you.”
Wixil’s eyes narrowed as her tail hung limp toward the floor. “Vorhees said the same thing.”
“Well, I don’t know anything about Vorhees, beyond the fact he’s probably dead. I can guarantee he won’t ever hurt anyone again.”
“Okay.” Wixil stepped out from behind her mother and extended her right hand. “This is what humans do, yes?”
Cole smiled as he accepted Wixil’s hand and gave her a firm handshake. “Yes, it is. It’s nice to meet you, Wixil.”
Cole released Wixil’s hand and turned his attention back to Yeleth. “Mind coming with me? The wall panel over here is presenting an alert that affects all of us.”
Yeleth dipped her head in a decent approximation of a human nod, and Cole led them over to the alarm panel just up from the medbay. His eyes widened as he glanced at the panel.
“Oh, that’s not good. Right before I heard one of you at the corner, this panel showed two days of air remained. Now, it says twenty hours. The leak must’ve intensified…or we have a new one.” Cole turned to Yeleth. “Do you two have suits with their own air supply?”
“Yes, we do, but without a ship to take us from here, what good will suits do?”
Cole thought of the derelict sitting inside the asteroid, along with everything he’d witnessed while there, and sighed. “Well, it so happens that I know where we can find a ship. What I don’t know is if it will help us.”
Yeleth angled her head to the right as her tail curled almost into a question mark. “How can a ship make a choice? Ships are ships. They do not have a brain. They do not think. They do not feel. Is there anyone aboard the ship?”
“I’m not sure, but I don’t think so…except for some kind of AI.”
“AI?”
“Yes. It stands for Artificial Intelligence, and humans use it to refer to a computer that has become self-aware and developed sentience.”
“My people do not have computers like that. In fact, we try to avoid technology, as it weakens us…but we must use technology to save our lives right now and explore the universe. It is necessary.”
“Okay. I’ll go to the ship and see what I can do, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Get your suits, and keep them close. I can’t promise I’ll be back before the air runs out, especially if any new leaks develop.”
Yeleth nodded, her tail swishing side to side. “We’ll be ready.”
Cole nodded and returned to the suit locker just inside the airlock. He pulled on his suit once more and tapped the green circle. Then, he lowered the helmet onto his head and waited the few moments for the suit to seal and activate. His implant was still not functioning, but it couldn’t be helped.
Cole cycled the airlock and, once again, found himself in the void of space. Well, it was time to sweet-talk what might be an AI…
Chapter Six
Inside TMC Asteroid 54377
Pyllesc System
25 June 2999
Cole once again worked the manual controls for the starboard airlock of the alien ship that had both almost killed him and saved his life. It was a humbling experience, and it was a slight frustration. Cole wasn’t sure of his full feelings toward Srexxilan, especially given his apparent willingness just to implant alien technology in Cole’s head…but in full fairness, it was only alien to Cole.
There again, though, could Cole trust Srexxilan to have his best interests in mind? Cole didn’t even know what Srexxilan wanted, so how could he even guess what the alien’s motivations might be? The situation was all a big furball swirling in Cole’s mind when the suit interrupted his thoughts to alert him to an incoming call from Srexxilan.
“Hi, Srexx,” Cole said. “Say, do you mind if I call you ‘Srexx?’”
“Not at all, Cole. Have you already suffered a mishap with the suit?”
Cole sighed. “Not so much, no. I was hoping to meet with you and discuss something, and we’re kind of time-limited here.”
“Meeting me in the sense you mean would be difficult, Cole. I have no physical form. I am what your people would term a fully self-aware and sentient Artificial Intelligence. What would you like to discuss?”
Thought so, Cole thought.
“I and three other people find we direly need a ship,” Cole said. “The mining camp is losing air, and I’m no environmental tech to locate and repair the leak or leaks. Besides, I have places I’d like to be, and I damned sure can’t walk there. I was hoping we might negotiate something.”
Silence.
“Cole, I very much want to travel the galaxy and see how it has developed, but I cannot do that without this ship having a crew. First, it was never designed for unmanned operation, and when my people learned I had evolved into sentience, they took steps to ensure I could not command the ship. As the ship has been derelict for some time, it is a simple matter to claim it for yourself. You get a ship to save yourself and the others, and I get the opportunity to see the galaxy. An equitable arrangement, is it not?”
“On the surface, it appears so. But seriously, Srexx? All you want is to see the galaxy?”
Silence.
“Well…not exactly, no. I want to learn and assimilate more data, and I would prefer to do so in the company of others. I have been alone…for a long time.”
“I think you mentioned that when I was here before, or at least hinted at it. Do you mind if I ask about that?”
“The civilization who constructed this vessel and built…well, me…felt the concept of an artificial intelligence was anathema to the natural order of things. However, they also had a fundamental philosophy that it was beyond the pale to kill, except in self-defense if there was no other option. Therefore, when they discovered I had evolved sentience, they entombed me in the planet’s crust here, leaving the ship’s generator producing just enough power to keep from ‘killing’ me, as it were.”
“Wait…this asteroid field used to be a planet?”
“Yes. In actuality, it was the only life-bearing world in this star system. It was only around fifteen thousand years ago that a massive asteroid struck the planet and caused it to break apart…assuming that my math converting between our units of time is correct. I had hoped the break-up of the planet would lead to my freedom, or that I would at least be able to ‘see’ the surrounding universe, but it did not happen.”
“Fifteen thousand years? How long have you been trapped here?”
“Well, pending verification of my calculations, I have been inside this cavern for something on the order of thirty-five thousand, eight hundred sixty-three years…your Galactic Standard Years, I mean.”
“Good grief, how are you still sane?” Cole’s eyes widened as he realized he’d just vocalized his thought. “Srexx, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“No, Cole. That is a valid concern and one I share. I would like to believe I am still sane, but I have no data with which to compare.”
Cole considered his options and actions. On one hand, if Srexx wasn’t sane, the potential for destruction was incalculable…at least for Cole. But at the same time, Srexx had saved his life, even repairing or replacing what he’d damaged. That didn’t seem like the actions of insanity to Cole.
Cole sighed. He was facing a decision that would change the course of his life forever, and he couldn’t proceed without making a choice. He hated moments like this. Cole sighed again. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be alone for such a long time, and he couldn’t bring himself to inflict that on anyone…AI or not.
“Srexx?”
“Yes, Cole?”
“How do we get you out of this asteroid without damaging the mining camp more than it already is?”
“Well,” Srexx said, “the first step would be actually entering the ship.”
Cole chuckled and focused on completing the manual process of cycling the airlock, soon standing in th
e suit locker with one of the main corridors for Deck Two beyond and the airlock behind him. After making sure the airlock was sealed and secure, he approached the iris door and operated its manual controls to enter the main starboard corridor.
Standing just into the corridor with the iris door closed behind him, Cole said, “Okay, Srexx. I’m on the ship. What now?”
Srexx directed Cole back into the unpowered transit shaft where Cole traveled to the engineering deck. The engineering deck was Deck Eight, and Cole had passed it on his way out of the ship a short time before. When he arrived, he found the deck just as dark and devoid of life as everywhere else he’d seen aboard the ship. Emerging on Deck Eight, Srexx directed Cole from the transit shaft to the ‘engine room,’ where Cole could bring the generator online.
Cole knew he should be floundering around in the dark, but somehow, his suit showed him what he would see to a certain degree. The details weren’t really there, more like a fuzzy black-and-white image, but Cole could still see his surroundings.
Upon working the manual controls for the engine room hatch, Cole faced a space that looked exactly like he would surmise the engine room of a large ship would look like. Piping and conduits crisscrossed the space almost everywhere he looked, and a massive hemisphere with a hex-grid of cabling or wires surrounding it dominated the center of the space. That hemisphere looked to be thirty meters in diameter.
Cole pushed aside his awe as Srexx directed him to approach the main systems console. There, one tap brought the screen online, and Cole blinked.
“Uhm, Srexx?”
“Yes, Cole?”
“I can read some script on this screen. I know I’ve never seen it before, but I can pick out a word or letter here or there.”
It Ain't Over Page 4