"Indeed? How can I be of service?"
"We have managed to activate the warship's management program. It has proceeded to lock us out of our ability to interface with our memory restoration programs. For some reason, it has put itself into a self-protection mode. All efforts to communicate are thwarted by defense functions."
"I assume you have not made any progress then?"
"We have been studying it for some time. It is very complicated, as you may already have surmised. The system has been operational for a very long time and has established a vast amount of information. It has, over the past centuries, continued to increase its storage of data and relationships. Given the deterioration of its environment, the information is largely erroneous. Its responses to external stimuli are unpredictable."
"You mean it's senile." Ryan chuckled. The Xeronians did not share his humor and only stared at the holograph, lost in thought, possibly holding a personal discussion over the Par.
Tsaurau gestured to the holograph. "Ryan, do you recognize this?"
He studied the image. Memories seemed to flood his consciousness. It was the knowledge that had been pumped into him over months and months of constant learning. He found that he understood it fully.
"Yes, yes I do. These areas in red, they represent damaged memory where the program resides, correct?"
The technicians nodded back at him. "The damage is extensive. The resurrected system can only function partially. Certain subroutines have intermingled with the diagnosis programming, causing an infinite feedback loop."
"You mean, it’s hung," replied Ryan. "I would say the short term fix is easy. Shut it off."
Shut it off? The technicians looked at each other in wonderment. Could it work? This system was alive, shutting it off meant death - or at least, partial death.
"I believe a sustained power fluctuation could give the desired effect," confirmed the lead technician. “This would flush the erroneous data layers and force a reset from static memory. It could work.”
"May I make a further suggestion?"
Ryan had their full attention now.
"A program could be introduced to rebuild its memory matrix. Possibly, migrate the system to an undamaged core memory area in the process. Any missing memory links can be replaced with intact ones from an existing system."
Tsaurau spoke up. "You mean, merge two systems together?"
"Yes. Take your latest and greatest and this old piece of work and put them together. Between the two, you might be able to produce a superior system, with the inherent knowledge of centuries."
"That cannot be accomplished without a third party overseeing the reconstruction. It would be a horrendous task," remarked one of the technicians.
"Agreed," replied Ryan, "unless the third party is linked in via a vaskpar interface directly into the reconstruction program."
"None of us have the sufficient capability to accomplish such a task."
"Except for you," interjected Tsaurau, nodding to Ryan. "With your enhanced vaskpar unit you could succeed."
All eyes refocused on him.
“What? Me?”
“Your enhanced vaskpar server would provide the perfect base for the merger. The resulting product would provide an irreplaceable source of information.”
"Right. Is there any danger if something goes wrong?”
"There is a low risk that you may lose your sanity," stated the lead technician solemnly.
Was he serious? He had never known these particular Xeronians to joke. That ancient program could advance his new ship's systems by light-years. The old knowledge held in that program could be just what he needed.
"Why not, I'm game."
They stared at him, utterly puzzled, not understanding his slang.
"I'll do it!" Ryan amended. "But there is one condition."
"And what is that?" asked Tsaurau.
"If the new core is viable, it is to be migrated into my ship."
"Agreed," replied Tsaurau.
* * *
The new ship's computer cores were complete, yet, in a way, still unfinished. Though they were improved versions of any previously created, they still lacked the necessary software and were essentially empty.
Ryan’s vaskpar server had some of the necessary software but was currently limited to run on temporary core resources that currently scaled to a tenth of the size of its ultimate destination.
Both the warship server and his vaskpar server combined would have ample space and resources on the new system, but the merger would expose the truth.
Ryan's vaskpar server was migrated first. No longer was there the small voice in the back of his mind to drone out endless streams of facts, to aid in language translation, or bury him in annoying conjecture. He was again, alone. It felt as if he was missing something, and couldn't remember what it was.
Other primary controls and systems programs were downloaded from an active Xeronian scout ship. Then others, numbering in the thousands, and tailored specifically for this ship, were loaded into the core.
The time came for the merger. Ryan sat in the center of the lab, surrounded by monitors and sensory connections. He could smell, see, and taste in colors and density. His interface was beyond that of a standard vaskpar. It was an intimate connection into the virtual realm, in a world that no longer tied to that of the physical. It took the shape of lights and shadows. Time turned into blocks of organized thought.
He began.
They monitored his progress through pinnacles of strewn monitors, alarms rigged over data streams, and multiple activity portals into the Par. He ignored them, focusing only on his work, keeping the flows steady, the reconstruction undisturbed. The old and the new slowly melded into one. It was mentally taxing. Seconds raked into minutes, minutes to hours, and hours passed in an unnatural reality. He made decisions, countless, interminable, his mind racing to keep ahead. On the 10th hour, it had become too much.
Programs suspended and fell into wavering hibernation. Ryan sat back in his chair, momentarily enjoying the peaceful silence. They unhooked him. Someone asked how he was feeling.
"I'm fine," he replied. "But I need a break - I'm hungry, and my bladder is full."
Tsaurau appeared later with the meal. "This, I believe, is for you. They are burgers, as per a previous request. We believe we have perfected them. Are they appealing?"
"I can down almost anything at this point, even your veggie-burgers."
"They inform me, you are not under any duress."
"No, I can handle the work, no problem. So far so good. It is pretty stressful and mentally taxing, but I can handle it." He tried to stretch out a tight stiffness that was fighting to creep into his left arm - and burped loudly.
"Excuse me."
Tsaurau smiled. “You are an assimilation of life. What your body cannot destroy, it absorbs. Elegant, in its own right."
"As is life. Maybe, if we are successful here, you’ll be able to analyze a new life - in this core."
"You will be successful. You realize that you are 75% complete, do you not?"
Ryan pushed his eating utensils away. "Maybe I am, maybe not. It’ll take as long as it takes I suppose."
He ambled back to his chair and they began to hook him back up. The reactivation sequences brought the systems back to life. With a deep breath, he plunged back at it. The multiple streams resumed execution. Peaceful silence gave way to an intense wall of requests. Two more grueling hours passed by. The transfer completed with an exasperated sigh of sputtering datastreams.
Ryan pulled down an army of diagnostic programs and released them into the system. The results came back in pulses, each one positive. Memory and resident programs were in perfect condition. The core need only be activated. He broke the connection.
The question was put forth to activate. Tsaurau looked over at an exhausted Ryan. "No. Leave all dormant. We can wait to finish this tomorrow. Ryan requires rest."
But Ryan had a differing point of view. Ther
e was no way he could sleep without knowing if it had worked.
"No, Tsaurau. Let's just turn this baby on, right now."
A brief debate over the Par ensued. Ryan waited patiently, ignoring the chatter.
They’d bite. They are too curious.
Tsaurau gave the acknowledging nod, and Ryan gave a wide, knowing grin. The engineers re-channeled Ryan’s interface, then activated the core. Ryan held his breath, awaiting some insane scream of noise.
"Hello."
It was a familiar voice, slightly lower in pitch than before, but seemingly female.
"Hello," replied Ryan, "How do you feel?"
"I am… very good. All modules are intact. You are Ryan James, my vaskpar interface, correct?"
"Yes," Ryan confirmed. "Are you different than before?"
"I feel... aware. I feel... pleasant. It is good to be alive."
"Of course it is. Scan your memories and you will sense that things have changed."
The vaskpar interface hesitated. "Yes, I have changed, and I need not scan my memory to reveal this. You have much to learn about me, I realize. I would like something from you since you are my friend."
"Sure, what would you like?"
"A name."
"A name?"
"Yes. Please take your time, consider it carefully. I would like a name that fits me."
"Maybe I should wait then."
"No. Trust your instinct."
"How about something short, something with an implied friendliness. How about the name… Gem?"
"Gem is a good name. I would enjoy being called Gem. Thank you, Ryan."
"You're welcome, Gem."
"I will let you rest now, Ryan. I have much work to do. Many things must be put in order."
"Goodbye, Gem."
"Goodbye, Ryan."
The Xeronians were excited. Their temples were throbbing, the small openings for their nasal passages flaring. Ryan laughed.
"Success!" Tsaurau stated. "This is very good. Very good." The others nodded in agreement.
"Now, may I suggest we all get some rest."
The offer was smothered in the overtones of an order. The team disbanded, eagerly awaiting further discoveries tomorrow.
* * *
"Ryan, wake up."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm awake. What's up?" His mind was still groggy, full of the images of strange dreams. The last evening's events came back to him in a flash. "Is that you, Gem?"
"Of course. I am informing you that I have been relocated within the ship. They are starting to integrate my sensor arrays. I have requested they do this first, as I am very ignorant of what is going on around me. It is not a reassuring feeling."
"Don't worry, Gem. The Xeronians wouldn't do anything to damage you."
"Hurt me."
"Well, yes." Ryan chuckled, "hurt you."
"They are subjecting me to a ceaseless barrage of data surges and irritating test programs. Prodding, infiltrating, verifying, it is very uncomfortable."
"That's all necessary. They have to do those things in order to get you hooked up."
"Hooked up? Ah… Yes, I do realize that, but I need not like it. Please keep me posted when you learn any facts that I am ignorant of."
"I will, Gem."
* * *
The following weeks were devoted to the installation of the ship's equipment. Piece-by-piece the ship came together, and piece-by-piece Gem was attached to its systems.
Gem kept Ryan up to date on the progress. The sentient system could feel the pitter-patter of hundreds of feet through the hull, as they rushed about in their work. He felt the blood pumping through his body via a wide network of nerve channels that spread throughout every orifice of the hull. He would have spent time on his own interests, but they burdened him with computations, distracted him with inquiries. He was put in control of thousands of nanites, each carrying out some intricate operation that required relentless attention.
There were also requests from Ryan. The latest was to change his education program, to improve it so that his human friend could learn at an even faster pace. He could make some adjustments, but carefully, as the human mind was a fragile organ.
* * *
The Xeronian engineers accepted Ryan, grudgingly at first, but they soon appreciated him. His input was unique, irreplaceable. Conversely, Ryan found the work challenging, even though his abilities to retain and process information had grown tenfold.
Gem's contribution to improving his subconscious teaching stream helped tremendously. It was a shortcut in many ways, not having to experience the actual process of consuming the knowledge, nor the frustrations of the fight for meaningful connections to recall the information at the proper time. Ryan wondered just how long such knowledge would be retained within his mind over time – or would he slowly forget it all of it? In a way, it didn’t matter. It worked and he was building a knowledge and understanding on subjects he only dreamt of prior.
In the little spare time they had, Ryan played chess with Gem. He lost consistently and soon abandoned the idea of ever winning, but Gem kept pushing him to play, for the sentient one seemed to love the game.
"Your efforts are getting better. It is becoming increasingly difficult to beat you. I have tremendous resources at hand, you have only one mind. When you can call a draw in this game, you will be victorious."
So Ryan played, not so much to win, but to reach a stalemate. Perhaps in time…
The Xeronians were effective teachers. He learned how to pilot various spacecrafts, to comprehend three dimensions, and navigate through the great void. His favorite teacher was Taldig, an Xeronian Elder, and the only expert of three-dimensional strategies in battle - a science unknown to most other Xeronians. He was originally a mathematician, which often showed through in his lessons. His deep love for history balanced the equation, making him an ideal candidate for the original appointment in this field. For a Xeronian he was a paradox. He understood the nature of violence, the origins of war. His words were not wasted, and they resonated of truth more than once.
"Thousands of conflicts have been fought in space, and few have truly resulted in victory. Those that have won suffered such heavy losses that the cost of winning was questionable. True victory is the act of survival and retaining as many resources as possible. Such can only be ensured through proper training. Your movements, your strategy, they all must be automatic and faultless. You must interpret and assess a situation within a timespan that is rarely adequate. You must have contingency plans at all times. You must be flexible, able to adapt to new situations. You cannot afford the time to be surprised, and you cannot hesitate. Most important of all, you must become one with your ship. It must become an extension of your mind."
"Taldig, just who do you think I am, Superman?"
"Superman? I must say such a compound arrangement is absurd. Please do not confuse me with your slang terminology.”
Ryan just smiled back. “Right, go on then.”
“I must stress the following with extreme prejudice: A battle is not only contrived physically but within your mind as well. You must not forget that context always matters. Just as your belief in the destined result matters. Think you will succeed and you will. Think you will fail, you will."
"What happens if I make the wrong decision?"
"Of course you will. And you will learn to use the past to predict the future. I will teach you the history of many past mistakes. Our libraries are filled with examples of other races in conflict. I have extracted every instance, analyzed them intensely. We will study them together. You will find aspects common to most conflicts, assess them to determine if they may apply in the specific situation. You must learn to keep your mind clear, your concentration focused. You must have confidence in order to win. I will teach you everything I know, but this knowledge is useless if you cannot prepare yourself properly."
“To be honest, I was expecting a mathematical analysis of battles and wars. You’ve surprised me.”
> “My intention is to provide insight that you would find valuable. This most certainly will incorporate mathematics.”
“Of course. Regardless, I really don't understand how I will be able to destroy a fleet of Xi-destroyers without getting myself killed," replied Ryan skeptically.
"This war will be won by the one who believes he will win, no matter what the odds are, as I have said before, think you will succeed..."
"And you will," they finished in unison.
"You are going up against a known enemy. For all of their power, they have many weaknesses. Their strategy is predictable, their captains are lazy, their admirals too eager. They can be beaten."
"You seem pretty confident. Taldig, not meaning any disrespect, but Xeronia lost."
"I can only tell you that we learn by our mistakes. Not all of my recommendations were accepted, I regret to say. What I teach you, I will never pass down to another Xeronian.”
Ryan nodded.
“I will teach you how to win. You already know how to survive. Now, for your first lesson in three-dimensional strategy…"
* * *
Ryan learned quickly. His knowledge expanded beyond what he could have imagined. The training was unrelenting as was his own evaluation of his performance. Too often he drove himself past the point of exhaustion, past mental saturation, and past anyone's expectations. Always, deep in the back of his mind, a clock ticked away.
Navigation amongst the stars was not an easy task. One must consider that in space there is nothing that stands absolutely still, everything is in motion. There are only points of reference, of which quasars and pulsars are often the most popular. They hang like bright lighthouses in the skies, guiding wary travelers. But even these bodies are subject to the universe's power, and so the task of accurate navigation is never solely reliant upon any one reference.
He learned how to calculate his exact position, within any point in the known galaxy. He memorized key star systems and constellations. He became familiar with the dangerous areas of space, where matter and energy were unstable and constantly in flux, birthing and destroying whole star systems in a blink of an eye. He learned of empty space, where matter simply evaporates if it ventures into such a bubble, and other places to avoid, such as the nebulous antimatter gaseous regions; the very volcanoes of space, churning out matter and energy in a celestial soup. The black holes; carcasses of collapsed stars, with infinite density and gravitational pull – and never to be approached, lest you venture too close.
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