Hunting Dog

by Andrew Beery

  Whiskers and a small team of engineers managed to modify and enlarge a small number of the stasis units. Where possible, married couples were teamed up. In the end, we had a home for all the surviving members of the crew.

  Finally, Whiskers had his modifications to the power grid complete. We could energize each of the pods. It was time to put the crew to bed.

  I looked around the bridge. I didn’t know if I would ever see any of these people again. Strangely, that weighed heavier on my heart than my own death. Lori joined me, standing near my command chair. If there was any comfort in all of this, it was that if I was to die, it would be with the woman I loved in my arms.

  I hit the ship-wide comms.

  “Attention crew of the Gilboa II. It’s time to report to your designated stasis pods. Know this before you go to sleep. No commander in the history of each of our respective worlds has ever been prouder of his crew. You each represent the best of what this universe has to offer. It has been my great pleasure and privilege to serve with each of you.

  “No greater love has anyone but that they should lay down their life for another. You have been called to do that, not once, not twice… but time and time again. And you always answered that call.”

  I paused for a brief second to gather my thoughts.

  “I don’t know whether or not the ship and her AI will ever find a friendly port. I don’t know whether or not the medical technology will ever exist to heal our wounds. What I do know is that each of you were willing to face that uncertain future in defense of innocent people you didn’t know. For that I thank you, and I ask the Creator’s blessings upon you.

  “Report to your pods and know that my thoughts and prayers are with you. Riker out.”

  Lori squeezed my hand. She didn’t say a word. There was nothing left to say.

  I stood up and looked around the bridge one last time. Most of the stations were still manned.

  “Gentlemen… it’s been an honor. Report to your pods. Dismissed.”

  The silence in the room was defending as Shelby, Jowls, Michaels and Mitty rose and headed for the turbolift. I watched them all go but did not move myself. Somehow being anything other than the last to leave the bridge seemed less than respectful. We hadn’t spent much time together, the Gilboa II and I – at least not compared to the time I had spent commanding her predecessor – but I still felt a connection to this ship that was hard to shake.

  Lori looked at me with her gentle and compassionate eyes. She knew me well enough to know the thoughts running through my mind. She let go of my hand.

  “I’ll get our pod ready. You come as soon as you can.”

  I nodded as she made her way to the turbolift that Mitty was holding for her.

  When I heard the door swish shut, I walked around the bridge… resting my hand briefly on each of the seats. My lips muttered a simple prayer for each of the people who had occupied those chairs over the course of our brief time on this ship.

  I knew that many, if not most, were not believers in the faith that my mother professed. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I was… but this prayer seemed somehow right to share, even if the people I was sharing it with never knew.

  “May the God of hope fill you all with joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

  With that, I left the bridge of the Gilboa II for what I expected would be the last time. It seemed the universe had other plans.

  ***

  As I rode the turbolift down to the medical deck, I spoke with Gil, the ship’s AI.

  “In a few moments, you’re going to have command. I need you to execute your omega-prime protocols. I need this ship protected and returned to the service of the Galactic Order. She represents our best hope of beating our enemy. If in your opinion, the ship is about to fall into enemy hands, you are to execute the command overrides stored in subfolder one alpha. They will allow you to destroy the ship with all hands on board. Do you understand and acknowledge your orders?”

  Mitty’s synthetic voice filled the elevator. I should have expected that. He shared his mind with the ships AI and, when his cybernetic body was out of commission, the ship’s computer core was the only place he existed. At these times the line between Gil and Mitty became blurred.

  “Understood Admiral.”

  “And acknowledged?” I prompted. I knew Mitty well enough now to know he would have made a good living as a lawyer looking for loopholes.

  “And acknowledged,” the Archon AI confirmed a moment later.

  “I would respectfully submit Admiral that your premise regarding the value of this ship is flawed. You, not she, represents our best hope of defeating the Defilers.”

  I didn’t respond. What’s a guy supposed to say to an alien otter thingy when he says something like that?

  A moment later the lights flickers and the turbolift ground to a halt. Its safeties locked it in place to protect its occupants, me, in this case, from potentially being slammed into a terminus bulkhead if there was no power available for breaking.

  I hit my personal comm-link.

  “Riker here. I’ve lost power in turbolift one. What’s happening?”

  Whiskers responded almost immediately.

  “Aye Admiral. We’re having a wee bit a problem with the automated power couplings… more specifically, the automated bypass control circuits. It’s meant to switch over ta a secondary system in the event the primary fusion core SCRAMs.”

  “Can you fix it?”

  “Aye, but it will mean taking the stasis pods offline for the better part of a day.”

  “Not a good solution, Whiskers. Most of the crew won’t survive a day without the pods. What are our other options?”

  “I do’na know Dog. Most of me boys and gals are already in stasis. I could use a hand down here.”

  “Can you redirect a little power to the turbolifts… get me moving again?”

  “Now that I kin do. Give me just a second or two.”

  My friend was true to his word. Soon enough, I was moving again. I switched destinations to the main engineering deck.

  I opened a comm channel to Sickbay. My wife answered immediately.

  “JD, I have reports from stragglers making their way here that there are power failures all over the ship. Are you OK?”

  “I am,” I replied. “How is the power to the stasis pods?”

  “There are no issues here at all. We never lost power. JD, it would be a disaster if we did. These pods have battery backups, but they are only good for a few hours.”

  “Primary power is currently operating,” I said. “Our problem is the redundant power feeds. If we lose the primaries, we need to have something to fall back on while the ship’s automated systems try to resolve the issue.”

  “So, what does that mean? We have to go into stasis without a secondary power source?”

  “It might,” I confirmed. “I’m making my way to engineering now to see if I can help Whiskers.”

  “Hurry, JD. The longer you two wait, the more damage the radiation is doing to you.”

  I knew that my wife was not going to like my next order. There were two reasons for this. First, wives never like to take orders from their husbands… I suspect it’s an X chromosome thing. Second, I was going to order her to do something that her heart was going to object most strenuously with.

  “Honey, I need you to get Whisker’s pod ready, and I need you to get into our pod. Don’t wait for me. I’ll cycle you out of stasis as soon as I can and join you.”

  “No.”

  What can I say? That X chromosome was obviously undamaged by the radiation we were taking.

  “Doctor, that was not a request. I need the ship’s chief medical officer functioning as well as possible should the day come when we are revived.”

  “JD, you are asking me to abandon you!”

  I shook my head. I might add that shaking my head hurt at the moment. I was burning up with radiation sickness
, and to be honest, I didn’t know how much longer I was going to be on my feet.

  “Lori, I need you to do this. The longer I spend arguing about it with you, the longer both of us are taking rads we don’t need to take. I’ve given you an order. I need you to carry it out.”

  “Sir, yes, sir,” she replied softly.

  I hated leaving her like that.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  I thought that perhaps she hadn’t heard me, but just as the door to the engineering deck opened, I heard the softest of replies.

  “I love you too. I always have, and I always will.”

  2100.1289.8834 Galactic Normalized Time

  Arquat periodically shifted his awareness between two starships. These ships were now thousands of lightyears apart. Unbeknownst to the crews of those ships, they each held advanced Ancestor AI cores. It was in these cores that he now resided. The Jebesh mastery of quantum-entangled communication allowed his awareness to shift between these two ships, the Diaspora and Gilboa II, with great facility.

  He shifted his awareness to the Gilboa II. He was not pleased with what he found. He was always amazed at how fast his charges managed to get themselves in trouble. There was a problem in need of a solution. He would do what was necessary, although he suspected his children would not be happy.

  Chapter 16: Dog Tired Again…

  “Whiskers, tell me what you’ve got.”

  The grizzled old engineer looked up from the console he was attempting to reconfigure.

  “Well laddi, I have a solution fer what ails us… but ya nay goin’a like it.”

  I walked over to peer over his shoulder. It looked like he had rerouted most of the command protocols for the backup fusion generator through this single control panel. While the solution was innovative, it was also fraught with its own issues.

  “I see a problem with the lateral array,” I noted. I didn’t see any way to initialize the jerry-rigged setup automatically. I had a bad feeling I knew what my engineer’s solution was going to be… and I didn’t like it.

  “Aye, there is a wee bit’a problem with the lateral array… and there is naught to be done ‘bout it. If we engage it now… we canna’ add any more stasis pods.”

  “So, somebody will need to press the button. That somebody will not be able to enter a pod without killing the redundant power system. That someone…”

  “Will most surely die,” my friend finished for me.

  I straightened my uniform jacket.

  “Finish up here and report to the med bay. As soon as I get confirmation you are tucked in tight, I’ll engage the redundant systems.”

  “Begg’n the Admiral’s pardon but it should be me that stays. If something goes wrong, you’ll need me ta fix it!”

  “Not this time, my friend,” I said while shaking my head slightly. I’ve turned enough wrenches down here for you to know I’m as capable as any of your engineers. The benefit or curse of the Da’Tellen memory transfer device.”

  “Admiral…” Whiskers whispered.

  I shook my head… more forcibly this time.

  “There is an old tradition of the Captain going down with the ship. A captain is responsible for the welfare of his crew… and that includes the chief engineer.”

  We verbally sparred for a few more minutes, but ultimately Whiskers was too much a Navy man to argue with his commanding officer for long.

  When Mitty confirmed he was locked up tight in his stasis pod… I hit the button. Nothing happened. I mean I expected lights to flicker. Maybe confetti to fall from the ceiling. A whirling, beeping or thrumming sound. I got nothing. A man gives up his life to save his crew… shouldn’t he at least get a click?

  A quick review of the system readouts confirmed the backups where engaged… that was something at least.

  I was beginning to feel seriously woozy. Who was I kidding? I had been feeling woozy for a while now. I was feeling woozier… I don’t even know if that was a word, but you get my idea. If I was a beer, somebody had popped the top and left me on the countertop for a day. The fizz was almost all gone.

  I slowly made my way to sickbay. As most of the ship’s power had been diverted to keeping almost two hundred stasis pods running, I was forced to crawl through the Jefferies tubes to move up three decks. Did I mention the ‘feeling woozy’ thing?

  Finally, I managed to stagger through the doors to the medical conference room. This was the room where Lori slept entombed in a chamber that was to have held both of us.

  I approached her pod. She looked comfortable. She was beautiful in every way that mattered. I had enjoyed watching her sleep for years. The soft whisper of her breathing. The warmth of her breath of my chest, and we lay together. The feel of her silky hair on my cheek.

  I was dog tired. I literally had nothing left to give. My knees started to buckle, and I allowed myself to collapse to the floor… using the smooth side of my wife’s stasis chamber to ease my fall.

  I wiggled around so I could sit at the base of her pod. I leaned my head back to rest on the cool Plexiglas that separated us. I could feel the barest vibration of the pod’s internal mechanism as it strove to do what I no longer could… protect my wife.

  I closed my eyes and pretended I was in that chamber with her. I hoped I would dream of her. Dreams were good. I was so tired.

  Blackness…

  ***

  It was noisy. Dreams weren’t supposed to be noisy. There was an odd medicinal smell in the air, and I really had to pee. I can’t remember the last time I had to pee so badly. Wait! There was one time. And it had that same funky medicinal smell.

  I opened my eyes slowly. I was laying on a diagnostic bed with nothing but what my mother brought me into the world wearing. Lori was laying on a similar bed just to my left… wearing the same thing. If you’re curious… she wore it better, but I digress.

  There were several dozen beds, each with its own occupant running in a row down what I could now see was the main shuttle hanger.

  Lori opened her eyes and tried to sit up.

  “What happened?” she said in a voice that seemed a little off.

  “We’ve been cloned,” I answered. My throat felt sore, and so my voice was a little off as well.

  “Well, that would explain the full bladder,” she responded dryly.

  ***

  Half an hour later, now dressed and ‘relieved’ not necessarily in that order, I was meeting with my department heads.

  There was one other person in the room… and I use the term person loosely.

  My good buddy Arquat, a.k.a. Arty had graced us with his presence. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  Don’t get me wrong. I was happy to be alive. And Arty was the reason I was. But, for the second time in my life, I had deep philosophical questions as to whether or not I was truly I… as in was I me… or did I only think I was me… in which case, who was I. My head hurt just thinking about it.

  The big difference between the first time I had been cloned and this time was I had a hanger deck filled with flag-draped coffins containing the bodies of our former selves. That was a profoundly troubling sight. Man, gender non-specific use of the term, was not intended to see his own corpse… at least not on this side of the grave.

  We had debated long and hard about the use of what some were calling resurrection technology… the combination of Galactic Order cloning tech and the Da’Tellen mind transfer device. There were no good answers. The genie was out of the bottle. Once a technology, like the A-bomb or cloning, had been developed, it very hard to un-develop it.

  I looked at each of the twenty or so people in the conference room. There were a lot of faces that showed signs of confusion and stress.

  I cleared my throat and began to speak.

  “As most of you know, the Gilboa II took a beating. We are currently cloaked and on the surface of a ferrous asteroid orbiting the star we just escaped from. The asteroid is at 0.75 AU from the sun’s surface. The density and natur
al magnetic field of this rock that we find ourselves on is protecting us from the intense radiation we would otherwise be experiencing.”

  I smiled a little.

  “I think we have all had enough playing the role of microwave dinner.”

  There was a soft but tense chuckle that moved through the room.

  “There is one other thing I need you all to be aware of. Just before the Gilboa II’s automated systems were able to bring our cloak online, sensors detected the drive signatures of several ships on an intercept course. If the sensor readings can be trusted, there is a high degree of probability that these vessels are Defiler ships.

  “Mitty had the forethought to launch a lightly cloaked decoy. It will buy us some time, but eventually, the ruse will be discovered, and those ships will begin to sweep the system.

  “This may well be a case of jumping out of the fire and into the frying pan. We are still in danger. I need a rundown of each of your departments. Specifically, how close to operational are we? Mitty tells me we were… in stasis… dead… whatever you want to call it, for three weeks. Automated systems have been conducting repairs on critical systems, but I want a set of mark-one organic optics on each and every critical system. Any questions?”

  There were none. Knowing my department heads, they likely had already given the very same orders to their respective teams. It would be a while before everybody got back up to speed. With the exception of my wife, Doctor Q’tar, and myself, this was the first time most of my crew had experienced being cloned. It takes some time to process these types of things emotionally.

  I leaned forward.

  “People, you have just gone through something the human psyche was never designed to handle. Your people are going through the same thing. Some are going to handle it better than others. I need you to keep your teams busy. The ‘what are we’ and ‘who are we’ questions need to be dealt with, but they need to be dealt with once the ship is safe, and once we have all had a chance to digest what has happened.