Relic Tech

by Terry W. Ervin II

  “Get out of here, Keesay.”

  “Thank you for your time, Technician,” I said, heading toward the door. “Lefty, wave goodbye and follow. We have work to do.” The wheeled robot’s manipulative appendage emerged to swing twice as it followed.

  “Lefty, stop,” ordered Gudkov. The robot halted. “I almost forgot something.” He took a scanning tool and ran it over several of the sensing panels. “Just double-checking calibrations.” He looked at the read out. “Everything’s fine.” He turned back to his workstation. “Lefty, follow Specialist Keesay.”

  The sec-bot joined me in the hall. The door slid shut, muffling Gudkov’s laugh. I’d hoped to finish Mer’s carving but changing command parameters was this evening’s first order of business. My appointment with the colonists in their holding area was next.

  Prior to our tour, Dr. Sevanto informed me that most of the colonists were fully recovered, and bored. The retaining area was biologically and intellectually sterile. A few entertainment holos were playing, and colonists occupied three of the five available computer consoles. I made the rounds with Dr. Sevanto and took the opportunity to introduce myself. The majority accepted my presence with a few pretending to. Six openly resented my presence and took to my sec-bot even less.

  The young boy, Michael Watts, stopped me as I followed Dr. Sevanto out. His mother, Instructor Watts, had keenly avoided me. “Doctor,” I said, “I’ll see you in Medical.” He waved in acknowledgment as I turned to the youth.

  “Sir,” the boy asked. “What model of security robot is that?”

  I recalled his file. He could read, and the model was clearly printed on the robot. “You’re, Michael Watts, correct?”

  “Yes, ahhh...sir.”

  “Specialist is fine, Michael. That’s Lefty. His model number is printed on the front plate.”

  “I don’t like that name.”

  “Lefty? Seems sufficient for a robot.”

  “No, Michael!” said the boy as his mother approached. “I don’t like it.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Mike then?” He frowned. A questioning glance to his mother got no response. “I think it’s a fine name. Did you know one of the greatest of God’s angels is named Michael? As a general, he defeated the armies of Satan.” The boy shrugged, emphasizing his temporary garments’ poor fit.

  Michael’s mother rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m Lori Watts.”

  “You’ll be providing academic instruction during transport.” I held out my hand. “I’m Security Specialist Krakista Keesay.”

  She was slow to respond with a shake, which turned out to be cold and weak. “Negral Corp hasn’t assigned me an official classification.”

  “Class 4 Primary and Intermediate Level Instructor,” I informed her. “During the voyage.”

  “That’s not a magnetic pulse pistol,” Michael said, pointing and continuing to eye my holstered sidearm, “or a laser.”

  “No, it’s an old-style revolver.” His eyebrows rose. “You know,” I said, “propels lead or other metallic bullets by gunpowder?”

  “Don’t ask so many questions,” interjected his mother. “Specialist Keesay has other duties to attend. Am I right?”

  “That is correct, Instructor Watts. See you later, Michael.” His gaze fell to the floor. “Maybe we can come up with a suitable nickname.” His mother smiled and nodded at my suggestion. “Lefty, come on.”

  “Is that the gun you shot the kidnappers with?” Michael asked.

  I stopped and looked at the boy, then his mother.

  She squeezed his shoulder, saying, “Some of the med techs discussed it while Michael was in recovery. Specialist Club reprimanded them.”

  Not fast enough, I thought. In a place this isolated and boring, any news or gossip would spread. “Yes, it is,” I said, looking Michael in the eye. “Not all duties are pleasant. One performs them anyway.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  His mother said, “That is enough, Michael.”

  “No, I can answer this one, last question.” She took in an apprehensive breath. I measured my words, trying to keep it simple and avoid interfering with family authority. “Because, Michael, within any structure or organization, whether it’s corporate like with me, family like you, or even military, everyone has a part to play. A responsibility to the others and to themselves. Occasionally, we must do what isn’t the easiest or most enjoyable.” I leaned closer. “I don’t always have access to complete information. My superiors have more. Thus, I count on them to provide me with appropriate duties, and I carry them out.” I paused. “My family runs the same way.”

  He started to ask another question. “Your mother is correct.” I checked my gear before asserting, “I have other duties.” Instructor Watts nodded but it was unclear if the approval referred to my assertion of duties, or to my explanation of duty. Several other colonists had been listening. Less than a day and they’d be out of this mind-numbing area. I waved, turned, and departed. Carver Potts began grumbling to some of his pals.

  I whispered, “Lefty, initiate a recording of conversations in the area we are exiting and do not acknowledge the order.” We didn’t slow down. Lefty recorded less than ten seconds of hopefully revealing conversation.

  As soon as we made it back to the Kalavar, I instructed the sec-bot to transmit the recording to my com-set. I listened and, after several directives, was able to isolate Potts’s voice and those of his fellows. Nothing other than suggesting I prefer little boys to women. Their tone indicated they had little regard for Instructor Watts, with Potts the main instigator. Although he was rated with above-average intelligence, I made a note to review Potts’s educational record. “Cunning and dislike of authority,” I said to myself.

  “Profile entry?” queried the sec-bot in a hollow, synthetic voice.

  I jumped. That was the first time it had responded verbally. “Negative.” We passed Maintenance Techs Segreti and Minapp mounting pallets, and exchanged nods. I directed the sec-bot, “Initiate a file on Agricultural Laborer Carver Potts. Attach and date the recorded conversation.”

  “Directive completed.”

  I checked my watch. Almost time for lunch. “Lefty, proceed to the colonists’ quartering area. Scan and attempt to locate any surveillance devices. Do not hinder maintenance crews. Remain in the area. Wait for my arrival near the lower entrance.”

  “Enacting directive.” The sec-bot wheeled away at a brisk pace.

  I hurried to my quarters to review programming security regulations and policy before lunch. If I consulted the printed hardcopy, Gudkov couldn’t trace my inquiry and efforts. And if Benny was willing to provide indirect assistance, I might be able to accomplish my goal.

  At the end of my duty hours I picked up an evening meal, returned to my quarters, and ate while working. As anticipated, Gudkov had sent the file, simple code without documentation. I instructed my sec-bot to shut down before I took out a pen and notebook, and began transcribing from the screen. My programming knowledge allowed me to understand bits and a few consecutive parts. This helped the process. I finished and set the quarter-filled notebook aside just as the door slid open. I cleared the screen before Benny entered with Specialist Tahgs.

  She smiled sheepishly. “Hello, Specialist Keesay.”

  Hiding my disappointment, I offered her my chair. “I bet you didn’t expect to see me hovering over a computer screen.”

  “...I have seen the way you study the colonist files,” said Benny. “Does not surprise me.”

  “Actually, later, I’d like your computer assistance, Benny, with a couple of things.”

  “...Janice is very proficient. She might be able to help.”

  Tahgs looked hopeful. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Doesn’t matter to me.” I thought quickly. “You could help me with one, Specialist Tahgs. And maybe Benny could the other?”

  “Janice,” she said, trying to disguise her disappointment.

  “Sorry, habit from being on
duty. Were you able to remove your handkerchief’s stains?”

  “I received the instructions but haven’t had a chance to try them.”

  Benny was busy gathering fresh clothes. “I should have changed too,” I said, looking at my duty coveralls. “But I don’t work up a sweat like Benny.”

  “Not every day,” Janice teased.

  “That’s true,” I said. “I should work out this evening.”

  Janice rubbed her abdomen. “I haven’t been released for strenuous activity, but if you need to.”

  “No,” I said. “Maybe while Benny is cleaning up, you can help me schedule the downloading of my journals.” She looked at me skeptically. “I generally wait until the last minute,” I said. “One can never be positive when the latest updates may arrive.” I waved to Benny as he headed to the showers. “I’m not accustomed to this system yet.”

  “It’s not that difficult, even for,” she paused, “someone with your background.”

  “True,” I admitted. “But my request won’t be a priority. I have little knowledge on the customary volume of data transfer prior to departure. Too soon, and I may not get the latest update. Too late, and I get nothing.” She caught my meaning. “This should be right up your alley.”

  “Alley?” she giggled. “Haven’t heard that one before.”

  “Means, you should be very familiar with this routine’s parameters.” I pulled out my electronic notebook and brought up the file. “The six journals I want downloaded.”

  “Interesting, varied reading topics,” she said, looking it over. “And these are the dates of the last update you downloaded?”

  “Correct.” I opened my cart while Janice began a mixture of tapping and voice commands.

  “If they don’t have any updates, do you want to download an alternate journal?”

  “No,” I said. “I can always reread what I have. Oh, and if possible text files with flat screen pictures and diagrams.”

  That raised an eyebrow. “If you’re looking to save credits, the Kalavar has a reading library. Although I don’t recall any of these titles.”

  “Already checked. I couldn’t find info on any scheduled updates.”

  Janice finished before I located one of my decks of cards. “All you need to do is access the file, ‘Journaldown1’ and enter your account authorization.” She rolled the chair away from the computer. “You might consider donating the files once you’re finished. That’s where most of the library selections come from.”

  “I’ll consider it.” I sat down on Benny’s duct tape chair.

  “What are those?” she asked, getting up.

  I dumped them out of the tin box into my left hand. “Cards. Ever played euchre?”

  “Yes, but not with cards.” She held out her hand and I gave them to her. She flipped through them carefully. “They’re not marked, are they?”

  “No, the design is just a steam-driven paddleboat.” She smiled playfully and I laughed, telling her, “I think you’ve seen too many old flat-screen shows.” I glanced at the sec-bot. “Benny will probably join us. Maybe he can talk Mer into playing. If not, I may have to partner with my robotic counterpart.”

  “I’ll be your partner,” she volunteered. “Mer won’t pass up anything as old-style as a real card game.”

  The door opened, and Benny poked his head in before marching across the room to put his soiled uniform into the cleaning compartment. He grabbed his therapy device and turned toward the door.

  “Kra suggested an old-style card game.” Janice waved the cards and inexpertly fanned the deck. “Think you and Mer are up to the challenge?”

  It turned out to be an enjoyable evening. Mer proved to be well versed in euchre and hearts. Janice was inexperienced in both, but a fast learner, and prone to taking long shots. Benny was competent and conservative. I shared some gum wraps. The conversation remained light, except the few times it focused on intragalactic politics. Mer seemed very insightful and far more knowledgeable than anyone else around the table. He was also the one who desired to turn in early, and it was his portable table.

  I offered to clean up while Benny escorted Janice to her quarters. She looked disappointed while Benny seemed resigned. Being my first day on duty with Lefty, I explained, I also had some file work to coordinate. A recalled thought struck Benny after my comment, and he offered to assist me upon his return. I eagerly agreed.

  I’d just completed reviewing Lefty’s inspection of the colonist area when Benny returned. “Pretty fast.”

  “...Figured you had a lot to do before tomorrow. I explained it to Janice. I think she likes you, Kra.”

  “I noticed,” I said, expecting this conversation. “Two problems.” I stood up from my perch over the robot. “One, duty requirements take precedence. And two, it may be more the fact that I saved her life in the line of duty than my charming personality.”

  “...You may be right, Kra. I am not so sure.” He walked over and inspected Lefty. “Is that what you needed assistance with?”

  “Kind of. It’s a decent model,” I said, rolling it off to the side. “It did locate all the active monitoring equipment in the colonist area.” I made sure my com-set was off. “What I intend to ask you to do is more letter of the law than intent of the law.”

  “...Skirting regulations? It has been done, more than once.”

  “Successfully, I hope. If you turn me down, I won’t take offense.”

  “...Let me hear it,” Benny said, sitting close.

  “The problem is, Gudkov programmed the sec-bot based on a technicality. Because of this, every other security person, and I haven’t calculated what other Kalavar personnel, can countermand any directive I give to my assigned sec-bot.”

  “...You are the lowest ranking security official on board.”

  “Correct. But standard protocol allows for only the chief and my direct supervisor, Specialist Club, authorization to countermand or even nullify an order.”

  “...If he did it by the book, Senior Engineer McAllister would have approved it.”

  “Correct. But also by the book, I can establish the standard protocol. The difficulty being my programming skills may be inferior to the task.” I knew what he was going to say. “And it must be done by hand. No voice-programming interface, which would have simplified the task.”

  He nodded. “That helps to assure integrity of the sec-bot’s systems.”

  I handed him the notebook with the transcribed code. “I considered asking Nist for assistance, but I don’t know him. Everyone else, except Specialist Club and the chief, are intimidated by Gudkov.”

  “...There are parts missing, Kra,” said Benny, scanning my transcription.

  “I know. I omitted the security sensitive areas. I will actually do all of the inputting. I will do all of the security sensitive sections alone. The rest, as much as you’re willing to assist.”

  He mulled it over. I brought him the hardcopy of the regulation and flipped to the pertinent documentation. “Read this before you decide. I wouldn’t want you to agree blindly.”

  “...I will take your word on the regulations. I was just weighing the possibility of crossing Senior Engineer McAllister.”

  “She could make your life difficult?”

  “...If I am not connected, and if it will frustrate Gudkov,” he contemplated, “I will do it.”

  “Affirmative, on both counts.”

  We went to work. What would’ve been a twenty or thirty-minute job for Benny, turned out to be a three-hour effort for me. He was in bed long before I finished my part. Fortunately, Benny instructed me on how to loop the online diagnostic program to a secured area. That assisted greatly in debugging errors. Before hitting the hay for two hours, I isolated one unidentified non-standard program file on the robot’s drive. I was unable to ascertain its purpose, but Gudkov’s fingerprints were on it. I doubted I could outwit him in this arena. So rather than mess with it, I purged the file from the system. But first, I downloaded it to a po
rtable storage chip, just to be safe.

  Chapter 22

  Corporations are limited to paramilitary equipment when arming security teams. Even if equal in firepower, the equipment is inferior in some fashion, usually in its inability to withstand intense electronic warfare. Military-grade production facilities are subject to random inspection with stiff fines and assured incarceration for any individual knowledgeable of unauthorized production or post-manufacture alteration of equipment.

  Retired military personnel, especially those who served twenty or more years in good standing, are occasionally granted limited waivers. Sometimes outdated, yet still effective, equipment is available to those highly sought after personnel who opt for security as a second career. This usually includes civilian ship command staffs, who often keep their official military rank in reserve status.

  Frost met up with me after breakfast. “On your way to the chief’s meeting, Keesay?”

  “Figured it’d be wise to be extra early today.”

  “True, everyone’ll be there,” Frost said, picking up the pace. “Tough to find good seats.”

  “Everyone trying to snuggle next to Gudkov?”

  “Bah,” he said. “Didn’t he issue your sec-bot?”

  “Yes. I have it on a mission.”

  “So, what do you think of your partner?” he asked, suppressing a grin.

  I didn’t play into it. “Lefty? Seems efficient. Was able to locate all of the surveillance monitors installed in the colonist area.”

  “Those weren’t exactly state of the art. But I heard the sec-bots are decent quality. Negral doesn’t issue bottom of the line equipment, if they can help it.”

  “That’s what I read before signing on.”

  “Read, huh?” We waited at an elevator. “You read a lot?”

  “I used to. Not a lot of action with my previous assignment.”

  “On Pluto, right?” Frost led the way in. “Less time onboard the Kalavar.” He shook his head. “We’ll get by, but could use a few more. What do you think of the new guy, Haxon?”

  I hesitated as we passed through the main gravity plate. Elevators switching directional gravity and orientation takes getting used to. “I haven’t run into him except at meetings.”