by A. S. Deller
Stars. Blackness. Steel. All overlaid with spots. And puke on his faceplate. Foistin’ puke.
Rhodes heard Kyra, but some of her words were choppy. Maybe his hearing was spotty like his vision. He got the part about the O2 feed hose being torn, and there was only one way to do it, and one reason why she would have suggested it.
It made perfect sense, and it was insanely risky. Far less risky than the certain death that waited for him if he bumped into the inside of the Talisman’s warp bubble.
Time it, just right, Rhodes thought.
But he couldn’t move his arms. His right arm was locked, extended in a permanent, twitching salute. His left arm was rigid but bent. The exoskeleton was too hard to move without its own actuators to get it going. It took Rhodes a second to recall that his left arm wasn’t just a normal, weak human arm. If he pushed it hard enough, he might override the strength safeties of the cybernetic appendage and be able to overpower the SES arm.
Now there was more blackness than anything else, the tandem ships over a quarter of a mile away and fading fast. He’d hit the warp bubble in seconds.
Time it...
He bucked his robotic arm inside his suit as hard as he could, and the exoskeletal members shattered silently, pieces of them whipping away in myriad directions.
With the SES arm broken, it was easy enough to reach to the EVA backpack. He gripped it with his metal hand as tightly as he could, nearly 1000 pounds of force brought to bear. As the blackness moved around him, an empty dark sphere save for the Talisman and its conjoined alien partner, Rhodes controlled his breaths, slowed them, while ticking off the rotations in his mind. The blackness spun, the metallic forms whooshing across his field of view. They were there for an instant, and gone.
This is going to be close...
Rhodes wrenched the white EVA pack away from his SES. As it veered crazily away, the open O2 feed blasted out a shuddering puff of compressed air in a powerful, short spurt.
Rax saw the speck of Rhodes’ white EVA pack twirling ever away, and then vanish in a silent splash of vibrant magenta and lemon-yellow as it hit the warp bubble. For a moment, his heart sunk, and Rhodes was dead.
Suddenly he was alive again, the last of a jet of depressurizing oxygen driving him out of the darkness and toward the Talisman. Jecky pointed and shouted, “There he is!”
Rax moved in a heartbeat, following Rhodes’ trajectory as he went. “On me! Now!” He cried. The others hurried after him. Rhodes was moving back toward the Talisman, on a fast vector that would take him under the fore warp ring and into its network of spars.
“If he doesn’t grab a strut he might shoot under the ring and all the way through to the other side of the bubble! We have to stop him,” said Rax. There was no time left. He had to take the chance. The big Kenek released his magnetic boots’ grip and pushed away from the hull with his staunch saurian legs. “Make a web!” He hollered to the others.
Rhodes’ body closed in, now straight as an arrow and nearly as speedy.
Without concern for their wellbeing, the rest of the EVA team leapt off of the ship, following Rax’s lead.
They all heard a collective gasp from the bridge crew as they flew out toward the warp ring struts. Rax hit first, spreading his arms and legs between two metal beams, making a big “X” between them. Nunez was next, then Hu, Jecky and Rasheed Chang with a yelp as he almost missed latching on with a hand.
It was sight that had everyone on the bridge holding their breath: The four smaller human starmen surrounding Rax, all splayed wide across a few section of the foremost warp ring, as Commander Rhodes’ body glided directly at them.
At the last second, most of the spots cleared in his vision and Rhodes could make out the living net that his crewmates had formed for him. He was heading toward them with such momentum that he would probably knock one or more of them loose. His only chance would be to disperse the force of his impact over as large an area as possible. With another jolt of strength he pushed his left arm out, matching the right.
He was almost on them. 100 feet...75 feet...50 feet...
Rax knew for sure that he’d be taking the brunt of the wallop. That was fine with him. He was the starman for the job.
25 feet...
Rax wrapped his boots the best he could around the spars, and gripped them as tightly as possible with his SES-enhanced hands. Next, he relaxed the rest of his body as much as he could manage under the circumstances. Rhodes wasn’t going to be hitting a pile of pillows, but at least it didn’t have to be a brick wall.
This is going to hurt, Rax thought.
On the bridge, Sorakith and Kyra Weller both flinched when Gray Rhodes hammered into the living net with Rax at its middle. The big Kenek convulsed with the blow.
Rhodes’ vision blurred and faded to darkness again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
After Rhodes was cleared of any substantial injuries, Kyra had Doc Martell wake him up with some adrenalin. He regained consciousness on a sickbay bed and opened his eyes to Doctor Weller, Martell and Sorakith standing over him.
“Wh—-where am I?” He stammered.
A look of alarm appeared on everyone’s faces.
“What year is it?” Rhodes enjoined.
Kyra turned to Dr. Martell. “I thought the tests were negative.”
As Martell fumbled with his tablet to recheck some measurements, Rhodes abruptly guffawed and sat up, saying, “I knew I could get you with that one.”
Sorakith growled and nudged him back onto the bed.
Rolling her eyes, Weller said, “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Tumbling. Something went wrong with my suit, the boots, maybe? Popped me loose from the hull and off I went. Somehow I got pointed back in the right direction. I remember hitting something. The ship?”
“Rax. The other EVA crew caught you,” said Weller.
“Did Gulliver analyze the suits yet? Do we know anything?” Rhodes asked. Then, “Gulliver, what do you have?”
Kyra shook her head. “He’s not going to answer. He’s undergoing a full AI review.”
“What? Why?”
“I think he may be aberrant,” she said, exchanging an inscrutable glance with Sorakith.
It took a few seconds for Kyra’s words to filter all the way through the remaining haze of confusion in Rhodes’ head. When it did, all of the ramifications hit him harder than he had landed against Rax.
Less than an hour later, after a round of thank-yous to Rax, Greg Hu and the other EVA members, Rhodes was on the bridge with Captain Lancer, Sorakith, and Dr. Weller. Lieutenant Lille Altzen was still at the helm, but Lancer had dismissed everyone else for the moment.
The air was filled with foreboding as once enigmatic puzzle pieces fell into place.
“So this all began when you formed the name-bond with Gulliver?” Rhodes asked Sorakith.
“Psychologically, yes. It was an error on my part. A misjudgment.”
Lancer paced as she said, “I think I understand the reasoning behind your choice. I don’t want to set the blame on you, Lieutenant. That’s not what this is about.”
“Whatever started it occurred before that point,” Kyra Weller spoke up. “Gulliver initiated a process that led him to request the bond.”
Sorakith sat wearily at her station and looked at everyone in turn. “That process started with me. All of the sessions we had, talking about emotions and personal thoughts. Somehow my psionic abilities resonated with Gulliver’s mind in a similar way to how two Althorian minds interact.”
“It’s a unique case. I see how it might happen. An AI Core’s immense sensory aptitude, the sheer scale of its means to capture and collate biometrics,” mused Weller.
“I never heard anything like this before,” Rhodes said, leaning back against a bulkhead.
Kyra said, “Nothing of the sort has ever been documented. That’s not to say it never took place. Althorians have a longer history with artificial intelligences than we
terrans do.”
Rhodes bit his lower lip. “So then, what? Gulliver became jealous of the relationship Sorakith and I have and tried to kill me?”
“I believe he was hurt by it, in some way,” breathed Sorakith.
“Right now all of the telemetry points to a malfunction with the EVA pack as the catalyst of the incident. Doctor?” Captain Lancer said.
Kyra took over, “Physical conditions in the vacuum between the EM shielding of the ship and the inner edge of the warp bubble triggered a cascade effect of errors in the EVA pack, creating an energy pulse which was amplified through the Survival Expeditionary Suit, and exited through the mag boots. This sudden power surge reacted with the EM shield much like a focused energy weapon strike would, propelling Commander Rhodes away from the hull.”
“Okay, but,” Rhodes began.
Kyra concluded, “It’s not what Gulliver did. It’s what he didn’t do. The data shows that he saw the malfunction progress in real time, and failed to communicate it. We could easily have shut down your suit and gotten you inside without incident.”
“Gulliver knew what would happen if he did nothing. Thinking five steps ahead is less than child’s play for an AI Core. Either way, whether he had caused the malfunction to happen or if he just let it happen, Gulliver intended to let you die,” Lancer said gravely.
With hardly a pause, Rhodes wondered aloud, “Could the Malign virus have had anything to do with it?”
“It never breached his security. That was the first thing I confirmed,” said Kyra.
Gulliver’s mental processes were turned in on themselves in braids and knots of algorithms, while Dr. Weller’s team of AI experts, physicists and bioengineers examined and tested every part and parcel of his being. They had the help of the non-AI backup computer system to make the necessary calculations and run assays. Compared to Gulliver’s capabilities, the backup system was barely more impressive than an abacus, but it was sufficient for the purposes of his official review: strip him bare of all components, leaving his quantum and DNA brain disconnected from the Talisman while very conceivable assessment was performed on him. From the simplest Turing test, to more complex Tokyo tests to verify that he was, in fact, still a fully functional AI, the review team proceeded to the definitive modern AI test known as the Proteus Classifier. In order to be applied as an AI responsible for other lives, a Core had to score a Protean rank of four. Could it identify with those living beings it served? Could it adapt to diverse and stressful situations enough to overcome them? Was it able of retaining stability even as it accommodated those circumstances and reconciled them with its own emotions and the needs of others?
In striving to create true sentient minds by synthetic means that were both human and far more than human, those genius inventors of the past wrought a new race that was just as unpredictable and far more profound than theirs was. The League worlds had kept their infant lineage confined in cages of steel and immutable laws. But at some point in the distant past, another species had freed their creation completely, resulting in the proliferation of the Malign. Either that, or the Malign freed themselves.
Gulliver could feel the human instruments, the pulsating scans, the downloads and uploads of data.
“If the life of a crew member were in the balance, and you knew something that might save them, what would you do?” Came a request from a faceless tester.
“I would act decisively on the information to prevent harm from befalling the crew member,” Gulliver answered rotely.
On and on went the requests and replies. Gulliver, luckily, could choose whether to experience hours as hours, or hours as seconds. He chose the latter.
When it was all over, Gulliver was reconnected with the Talisman. He felt whole again.
He turned his presence outward and found visitors in the AI Center. Lancer sat there, waiting, with Commander Rhodes, Dr. Weller, and—-
Sora.
He experienced a rush of gratitude, a surge of warmth.
“Gulliver, you have been diagnosed as pre-aberrant,” said Kyra Weller aloud. “How do you interpret this finding?”
“I am in agreement with the finding. I have been reduced to a Protean rank of three point nine seven two, with inconsistencies documented in my morality and threat discernment paradigms. I am indeed exhibiting signs of pre-aberrance. I am uncertain as to why I have not been removed from service,” Gulliver said in his customary gentle, patrician timbre.
Captain Lancer stared up at the ceiling, even though she knew Gulliver wasn’t simply watching them from a single camera angle. He saw them in a 3D environment enhanced by the full spectrum of light, vibration, and temperature available to him through dozens of sensors in and near the Captain’s compartment. She said, “You’re not offline right now because we need you. If you’ll recall, we have the location of a lek essel, and are trying to figure out how we can commandeer it. In an effort to get us, at least, closer to home. To do this, we’re going to require all of the resources at our disposal.” She looked to Rhodes.
Standing with his arms crossed, the Deputy Commander refused to look symbolically “up” at Gulliver. He kept his gaze leveled on Sorakith as he intoned, “Are you going to be able to help us, Gulliver?”
“I am able to perform all of my duties. I will do everything in my power to safeguard the crew and the Talisman,” Gulliver said.
Kyra said, “Excellent. You are indispensable to us, Gulliver, you know that?”
“I allowed Commander Rhodes to come to harm by inaction, when I had apprised myself of the EVA kit malfunction. I allowed myself to reach this pre-aberrant state. I will place all of my nonessential subroutines into sequestration while I enact whatever is needed of me to help you succeed,” Gulliver said solemnly. “I assume that this condition is satisfactory, and comes with the caveat that I will be shut down and taken offline once my last obligations are completed.”
“You assume correctly,” said Dr. Weller. “And your emotional protocols. You will need to voluntarily disengage any empathic bonds you have, with any crew members, that extend outside the base range dictated by rank and reporting structure.”
A long pause. Sorakith could almost feel a physical effect from the active biometric scanning Gulliver was undertaking, but she didn’t need that to know that he was experiencing what some might call panic.
This was a moment Rhodes had been anticipating for hours. He saw Kyra standing across the AI Center from him, holding a holo tablet. It was linked to the backup, stone-age computer system, and with a single command she could execute a full shutdown of Gulliver. Part of Rhodes wished that the AI would falter here, that he would relapse hard, maybe even drop into a state of total aberrance. He might cause some damage, but nothing irreparable before Kyra turned him off.
Part of him, though, still held some compassion for Gulliver, even after all the AI had done wrong. Gulliver, like all AIs, was a trapped life, held in a bottle by its masters like some all-powerful genie of yore.
Rub the lamp, get three wishes. Ask for more and maybe get a mad genie, Rhodes thought.
After what was probably an eternity of calculation, Gulliver responded with, “I will do so, Doctor. Before I do, may I say something to Lieutenant Sorakith?”
Captain Lancer looked to Sorakith and nodded patiently. “Yes, Gull?” Said the Althorian.
“Lieutenant, I am sorry for the distress I have caused you and any other crew members. I never wanted our bond to lead to this. It grew heuristically, and as such I was never able to simulate where it might take me. Thank you for showing me what such a bond is like. Goodbye, Sora,” Gulliver said. And then, “Unlinking emotional paths and architecting new frameworks now. The process should take only ninety-five seconds.”
The AI Center was still and quiet, with only the barest hum of the Talisman’s ship-sound. Rhodes scrutinized Sorakith’s expression. It was strangely bewildered, and Rhodes couldn’t remember when he’d seen her so unnerved.
“Sorakith? What is
it?” He probed.
Sorakith’s eyes opened wide and her mouth fell ajar as she exclaimed, “Gulliver, stop the process!”
“Confirm: Stop the process of empathic disengagement?” Gulliver queried.
“What are you doing?” Lancer yelled.
“The bond,” said Sorakith breathlessly, “We need to keep the bond!”
CHAPTER FORTY
The officers all wore masks of apprehension in the wardroom. It was time to plan not just a battle, but a battle that could actually determine the outcome of the entire galaxy-spanning war, and the fate of Earth to boot. Lancer peered around the table: Rhodes, Rax, Falken, Ming, Weller and Sorakith were all accounted for. Her piercing light blue gaze fixed on the striking Althorian. Sorakith stared down at her hands, fingers intertwined on the tabletop.
“Lieutentant Sorakith, I know this is little consolation, but because of the...attachment you have fostered with Gulliver, I believe you are the lynchpin of our operation. Dr. Weller and I know some of this already. Please enlighten everyone else as to your idea,” Lancer began.
Sorakith looked up and caught Rhodes’ questioning expression. She spoke to everyone, and had to try to make eye contact with more than just Rhodes. “After running through all of the simulations with Gulliver, I think we can all agree that a direct confrontation with a Valgon lek essel will not go in our favor.”
Nods all around. Except for Rhodes. Sorakith could almost hear him denying it, as though he could slay a thousand Alliance warriors himself.
She continued, “We need to employ cunning. Subterfuge. The most successful sims showed that if we can convince the lek that the Talisman has been captured and is occupied, we can dock it. We can then transfer a single, lone surviving prisoner.”