Emwan

by Dain White

  “Yak’s a debate master?” That sounded unlikely.

  “You’d be surprised. Try arguing with him sometime.”

  “I like having functional limbs, and consciousness, sir.”

  “I suppose. Still, you should give it a try. I think you’ll find Yak a shrewd logician. He could probably write code all day long.”

  I wanted to laugh, but not enough to risk him hearing me. He had been ordered off to sleep, not die.

  “Well I’ll have to see if he’s up for it, then.” I said with a smirk. “So okay, layman’s terms – that’s easy. Let’s say your screens there display energy levels.”

  “Okay, let’s pretend,” he chuckled.

  “You want to know when the energy level is in a specific range of values, and want the code to do something when it’s at variance with your expectation.”

  “There you go again. Why do you geeks have to use so many big words? Who says variance in polite conversation?”

  “Every industry has a specific jargon, or nomenclature, sir. When you start talking about ascension, inclination, apogees or whatever – it’s as weird to me, as me talking about endpoints or bubble sorting must be to you.”

  He chuckled, leaning in over my screen for a moment. “Bubble? You should be shell sorting, anyway. It’s a more efficient method.”

  I turned around, and was met by a gleaming glint in his eyes, under prodigiously bristly brows.

  He laughed. “Well?”

  I managed to pull it together somehow. “Well, you’re right, but only when the data set has a hierarchy, on account of the recursive structures, sir.”

  “Ugh. Here we go again,” he grumbled. “So how do we get the code to do something with a variance?”

  “Well, we use logic, of course. This is logicspace hacking at its best. All we do is instantiate a variable with a range to compare, and then attach it to the process we’re watching. Once you have a class definition for your object, you only need to trap events around the trigger moment, and when it trips, call whatever object you need to push the alert.”

  “Bleep-bloop?”

  I laughed. “Fair enough, sir… I know how it sounds.”

  “No, I am just messing with you son… you’re a little too enthusiastic here to make a lot of sense, but you’re making enough for me to understand. What if your trigger moment is based on a wide variety of different values – what if there’s a chain of values that combine to create unexpected data?”

  I smiled, “You code handlers, sir. It’s a little bit like writing a book. You lay out a specific sort of framework, like a plot, then you flesh out the characters – those are objects, and then, you give them depth…” I trailed off, watching him swipe idly though the screens.

  “Apt analogy, son. With depth, I assume we end up with some sort of paradigm, or set of conditions these objects expect to find?”

  “Yep! It’s not hard, really…”

  “Still sounds magical, son… It sounds like you’re squinting at a problem and hoping it ends up looking like a solution.”

  I laughed. “It’s actually a lot like that, Captain.”

  “And that’s why it’s stark, raving gibberish to mortals like me, son. It’s like making a machine that does anything except what you expect, then standing up and saying proudly ‘I did that’, when in fact, you didn’t.”

  “But that’s the beauty of it sir – when that happens, if it’s handled, then I did do it. That’s what makes coding so rewarding. There are times when you simply can’t foresee the results, so being able to design methods to handle anomalous input is… well… I guess it does feel a bit like working magic.”

  “So I’m right, in other words?”

  “Well, you’re not technically wrong, I guess.”

  He took a sip.

  “And now, my life is complete.”

  08242614@12:22 Shaun Onebull

  The shower was cold, but no less the worse for it. At least she couldn’t call me stinky anymore.

  Chapter 9

  08242614@12:12 Captain Dak Smith

  He had a point, I guess. What he did with code was really no different than what I do, heck, no different than what any of us did, in our own way; nomenclature, indeed.

  “Pauli, have you ever written a targeting system?”

  “Sure, why?”

  “Well, all that blither-blather you were yapping has given me a moment to think, and you know – I think we might need to tweak the targeting system a bit to accommodate continual burns on a moving target. We need a lock-and-precess function I can just kick in once we’re on target. We’re no longer firing shots, we’re trying to burn a hole.”

  “Why me, sir? Either Janis or Em could do that almost infinitely better than I can.”

  That was a valid question. I took a brief sip before answering.

  “My concern here is with the overall capacity and capability we have right now. Having Janis effectively down preactively makes it more challenging. Em did an amazing job, make no mistake, but her preactive ability isn’t like Janis’ – is it?”

  “No, sir, not exactly,” he replied. “She uses a different methodology, but all the same sir, she was amazing with intercepts in our last fight.”

  “But wasn’t that essentially just guessing?” I asked quietly.

  Pauli laughed. “No Captain, not at all! She can easily preact well enough to keep us alive. Her confidence level only drops when she’s trying to preact to different timelines – but that is something she does with an amazing accuracy rate, throughout the Galaxy.”

  “Does she maintain a 100%, son?” I asked pointedly.

  “Well, no sir. But it’s in the high nineties. To be honest, it’s frankly amazing that she is functioning like this. She won’t ever fail us, sir.”

  “Never happen,” Emwan quipped,

  “Em, you seem pretty confident.”

  “I am, sir… and Steven is right.”

  I poised an eyebrow for launch. “Again? That’s twice!”

  “Hey!” Pauli chuffed.

  I had to admit, he chuffed pretty well. He might have a knack for it, an innate skill. He really reminded me of myself, when I was his age.

  “Em,” I continued, with a sip of silence directed at Pauli’s chuff. “Can you run the turrets, even with your ‘self’ in the crab?”

  “Captain, I am everywhere! I am as much here, as I am there,” she said with a giggle.

  “Very well, be that as it may, listen up, both of you. At your earliest convenience, we need a new built-in, automated targeting system that doesn’t rely on AI support. Don’t get me wrong,” I paused for a moment. “I just want redundancy. I need something that works better than the visual dumb-fire system we have up there now. I want something that even I could use that will put consistently put rounds on target. I don’t want to have to aim the turrets, in other words, I want to select targets and make them dead.”

  Pauli replied smartly. “Certainly, Captain – Em, let’s attach this to gravimetrics, okay?”

  “Steven, we should also scan for EM with a comms array hook.”

  “Makes sense to me. Alright, I’ll start working on an interface.”

  “Pauli, remember – I want this easy enough for me to use with an empty cup.”

  I could watch him switch gears and turn into a geek. His screens lit up and the incessant rattle of keys filled the bridge. He was immediately his zone, the sound of the keys rushing like a waterfall.

  He stopped, realizing I was waiting. “Oh, sure thing Captain, this is going to be pretty easy. Janis, can you run the math for this?”

  “It’s done, Steven.”

  “The sensor array is connected as well, Steven.”

  “Thanks, I’m piping it in now.”

  I sipped a little bit, just to take the sleepy out of my eyes, and listened to the industrious sound of fingers for a while. “Easy does it, son… Gene’s in no condition to repair that keyboard again.”

  He scoffed in reply
, but the frantic slapping sound abated – a little. A gnawing pang of hunger rumbled around a bit in my tummy while the evolution clock on my screen slowly ticked down.

  “Pauli, are you hungry?”

  “Always, sir,” he replied off-handedly.

  “Very well, I’ll step aft and see what we have for some nosh. Em, you have the conn”

  “I have the conn, Captain,” she replied sweetly.

  I cracked the buckles on my crash bars and let them accordion up and away, and kicked aft followed by the swiftly fading sound of increasing keyboard punishment.

  The gun deck was quiet, with only a low hum from the scavengers and a subtle clack of a relay somewhere in the bulkhead to accompany me as I drifted across the deck to the galley ladderway.

  “Where are you headed, Captain?” Shorty asked behind me, as I floated on through the bay. I rotated around my hips and caught an eyeful of a sleepy looking mop-headed little weapons specialist, rubbing the goop out of her eyes.

  “Good evening Shortness – I am headed to the galley to rustle up some victuals. Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat… everything.”

  “Well, you’re in luck, because that’s what we have. How come you’re not asleep? I could have sworn I heard your captain give you a direct order to get some rest…”

  She laughed. “I tried, sir – but I’m too antsy, too keyed up. I tossed and turned and turned some more, my leg itches like it’s full of ants and my stomach is growling like a bear.”

  “Well, let’s get some food in you before you waste away!” I replied in mock alarm. We had made it to the ladderway, and I waited for a moment with an ankle hooked on the top rung for her to catch up.

  I didn’t have to wait long, she was moving along pretty good for someone who was apparently about to die from starvation.

  “Thanks, Captain,” she smiled, as she took my outstretched hand. I braced and she pivoted around my arm and down the ladderway. I chuckled at her shriek of mock fear – at least I hoped it was mock fear – she was moving right along, and it looked like she might not stick her landing.

  I shouldn’t have worried – she slapped a few rungs of the ladder as she dropped, and slowed herself down nicely.

  “So what’s our plan, sir?” she asked as we kicked into the galley compartment.

  “Well, I am thinking about a sandwich, maybe,” I replied over my shoulder as I rooted through the crisper for anything resembling veg.

  “There’s some spinach in there,” she offered helpfully. “Maybe we could make some pasta? That’s good for energy.”

  “Ambitious,” I replied with a chuckle. We eat too many sandwiches anyway. I finally found the spinach, and it looked like it was holding up pretty well. “Start some water boiling, and I’ll start prepping some goodies here.”

  “What are we making?”

  “Well, I don’t know if it has a name… but I am sure it’ll be yummy. Here, take these noodles and get them going. I’ll work on a sauce of some sort.”

  I am not really what you’d call a traditional cook. I don’t think I’ve ever read a recipe, and I am of the mind that garlic is pretty much the only ingredient that is mandatory, all others are optional. We had a jar of stewed tomatoes and what looked like okra but probably wasn’t, so I tossed that into the top lock of the pot and cycled it through. Garlic was the easy choice next. Luckily, we had plenty, because I am also of the mind that there’s never enough.

  “Do you want me to chop some of this spinach?”

  “Yeah, and toss it into the boiling water, would you?”

  “Really?”

  “Sure – it’ll be ready when the noodles are.”

  She obviously didn’t believe me, but she did as I asked, probably because I was her captain, but maybe just because she didn’t have the energy to put up a resistance. I honestly had no idea if it would be ready or not, but I’ve never let fear of the unknown stop me from mashing food together.

  “What else should I do?”

  I tossed her some of the dried tomatoes and peppers from the soup locker. “Toss those in to boil as well, would you?”

  “Sure thing,” she replied and cycled them through the lid. I got back to work on my sauce. I added pepper, a little bit of salt, some more pepper, a little more garlic, and just a wee pinch of pepper. I like my sauce to have a bit of a kick to it.

  “How about parmesan?” she asked, watching me with a concerned look.

  “That’s a great idea – work on grating some of that, and we’ll be ready to go.”

  I waited until her back was turned, and then quickly added cumin, oregano, basil, thyme, and some of my secret ingredient, dragon pepper flakes.

  “What did you just add?”

  I chuckled – nothing gets past the shortest one. “Just some love, Shorty… just some love.”

  “In powdered form?” she said, trying to get a peek into the cupboard as I shelved everything.

  “Yes, it’s the only way to keep it from going bad on these long flights.”

  She frowned, and casually slid a little closer for a deep sniff. “It doesn’t smell like love… it smells like pepper.”

  “Pepper is love, Shorty.”

  “Humph,” she replied with a snort.

  “What’re you guys cooking?” Yak asked, floating through the hatch, rubbing his eyes.

  “Captain’s making us some love, apparently,” Shorty said with an odd smirk.

  “Huh,” Yak replied with a faraway look. “That’s not the way I usually do it.”

  I chuckled. “Love is made in many different forms. It can be boiled, fried, fricasseed, broiled, baked, scorched, or served raw.”

  “I like my love raw,” replied Yak thoughtfully.

  “That’s no good, Yak,” I replied. “It’d be too chewy. We need to tenderize it a bit.”

  “Tender love,” Shorty said seriously. “That’s the best kind.”

  “How come it smells like pasta?” Yak asked, floating closer for a sniff.

  “That’s because it is pasta,” I replied. “It’s love pasta, with love sauce, and I added secret love spices.”

  “I like spicy love,” Shorty said with an even bigger smirk.

  “Don’t we all, Shorty,” I chuckled. “This particular spice though is top secret. Don’t even try to guess it, you’ll just be disappointed.”

  “If you say so,” Yak shrugged. “It smells awesome, whatever it is.”

  I checked to make sure the clamps were secure on the sauce pot. “Janis, is Gene awake?”

  “He is, Captain.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “He is doing rather well, from the severity of his scowl, I believe he thinks he is ready to resume work.”

  I flew an eyebrow at treetop height across the wasteland of my furrowed brow. “Janis, that’s not really a good idea. He needs to rest. Is there anything you can do to keep him busy there, but keep him in bed and as stress free as possible?”

  “That is the challenge I am facing currently. Keeping him away from his work would appear to be accentuating his stress levels. It may be a good idea to let him monitor his screens from the med bay.”

  I considered that for a moment, watching Shorty fuss with her pan latch and the noodles.

  “Very well, Janis. Go ahead and light up his screens for him to look at – but my strictest order to remain prone and in bed is still in effect. If he sees anything that needs doing, I need you to handle it.”

  “I shall do so, Captain.”

  “Also, tell him to work up a good appetite, we’re only a few minutes from having something for him to eat.”

  “I’ll let him know, sir.”

  “I’ll get some tins ready,” Yak said, and started rummaging around in the cabinets.

  “Get one for Pauli, too, would you? I’ll take Gene’s.”

  “The noodles are ready,” Shorty said, at the precise moment I was about to open my mouth to ask. She clipped the pan to the drain, and cycled the latch t
o let the water out, then handed it over.

  “Thanks, Shorty,” I replied and clipped her pan to the latch on my pan, and gave it a mighty shake to mix the noodles and pasta. Cooking in null-g isn’t hard, once you get used to the ironmongery that is associated with a space galley, and despite being the Captain, I like cooking. It relaxes me, invigorates me, and makes me feel like I am contributing to the well-being and happiness of my crew.

  Until they complain about how much garlic I use... which is just about every time I cook anything.

  “Got those tins ready, Yak?” I asked, once I had the sauce mixed up with the noodles.

  “Right here, sir,” he said, and clicked them down onto the magnetized countertop.

  “We have some bread here, sir – do you want me to tear off a few hunks to go with this?”

  “That’s a great idea,” I replied. “Also, can you start another loaf? Add some crunchies to it, so we have something to gnaw on for breakfast later.”

  “Sure thing, sir,” she replied as Yak floated over to help.

  The wailing of the collision alarm caught us all completely off guard, and a blob of pasta flung off the end of the pan as I kicked out of the galley behind Shorty.

  “Em, report!” I called out, swarming up the ladder.

  “Captain! Imminent high-order impact, all hands rig for collision!”

  I kicked myself around, trying to grab the top rung of the ladder, missing it by a few centimeters. I cursed helplessly as I floated forward through the gun deck.

  “Shorty, I need you on station immediately,” I yelled as I sailed past the weapons compartment.

  “On station sir,” she called back down with what I can only imagine was an award-winning smirk, probably with one of her infernally crinkled noses, as well.

  “Very well,” I called back, watching Yak hurtle past me on a direct course for the bridge lock.

  “Janis, set Zebra,” I commanded as soon as he was in the lock.

  “Zebra, aye,” she replied smartly as hatches throughout the Archaea dogged shut.

  Yak growled on comms as I finally touched down on deck and kicked forward for the lock. “Captain, three targets, I designate Master two through four, range 22,450 kilometers at 225 azimuth 83, moving to 45.”