“And I’ll be allowed to return to Jefferson Station afterwards?” Bristol asked, looking at Ricket.
“Yes … Or probably rejoin your crew under Captain Reynolds,” Ricket said. He then turned to Hobel. “One more condition—once we’ve helped you, the Minian will be returned to the Sol solar system.”
Bristol swung his feet off the gurney and slid down to the deck. “Yeah … that’s like non-negotiable, man.” Bristol then looked over to Granger. “And Granger gets a free pass on all the shit he pulled with you guys several years back.”
Ricket was surprised to see Hobel actually considering Bristol’s words. Granger’s eyes, too, were locked on Hobel, waiting for his response.
“Agreed. You have my personal promise,” Hobel told them. Hobel’s eyes stayed on Ricket with an expression that said far more. Ricket himself would never be allowed to leave.
“How do we know he’ll keep his word?” Bristol asked.
Irritation flared on the Omni’s face. “Caldurians take great pride in their honesty. Such questioning of our integrity is offensive and I personally will not stand for it.”
Bristol shrugged, “Whatever. I guess we’ll get to work then.”
Chapter 17
Open Space
Minian’s Zip Farm, within the Parcical, MicroVault
__________________________
Ricket, Granger, Bristol, and Norwell filed out together from the Minian’s 12th floor DeckPort and headed across the corridor, entering into the expansive Zip Farm. Ricket still found it amazing that yes, they were on board the Minian, but the Minian, like themselves, was a mere molecular version of itself—stored within a MicroVault on board the Parcical. Two armed Caldurian guards, from the Parcical, followed close behind, taking up positions near the entrance.
The Zip Farm compartment was one of the largest on the vessel. Ricket found it uniquely dissimilar to the rest of the ship because Alurian technology was all around them—from the gigantic black and oily locomotive-sized Zip accelerators, lined up in parallel rows, to the somewhat old-fashioned console interfaces, sited along the forward bulkhead.
“We have twenty-two minutes. I suggest we make the most of our time here,” Norwell said.
“Where do we start?” Bristol asked, looking up at the nearest towering Zip accelerator.
“Each accelerator maintains a certain amount of autonomy,” Ricket explained. “They can operate on their own, or in parallel with the other accelerators here.”
“Yes … and what I suspect happened was one was singled out, used as a model for others to be duplicated from,” Granger said.
“Which mean all subsequent technology was born from that one unit,” Bristol said. He scratched his chin and sniffed. “So right, an idiotic assumption was made that shouldn’t have been made. How many accelerators are presently here? Twenty something? They will all need to be analyzed and measured for differences, down to the smallest detail logged. Only then can we determine what we’re really dealing with.”
“Agreed,” Norwell said.
“The Minian’s AI can accomplish that fairly quickly. But she needs to be brought back online, to her full capabilities. Right now, the Minian is barely sustaining life support … has minimal, low-level, functionality,” Ricket said.
“Why didn’t you just leave the AI alone in the first place?” Bristol asked, looking at Norwell.
“I don’t have clearance for reinstating the AI’s full functionality. The Omni specifically wanted that AI deactivated. It was the first thing we were directed to do, once we had her here.”
“Well, he should have come along too, if he was so interested in what we’re doing. I’ll reinstate her operating status to normal. It’ll take me all of two minutes.”
Norwell stood, looking hesitant.
Ricket knew perfectly well why the ship’s AI was disengaged—sure, there were safety concerns, but also, more importantly, there was the issue of loyalty. After years of operating within the same structured environment, and having consistent interactions with the same crewmembers—the AI, in a very basic sense, becomes loyal. At least, in relative terms, to the extent an artificial intelligence device can experience such things. It is not uncommon for an AI to be totally scrubbed between redeployment with new crews.
“Wait. I don’t think this is a good idea,” Norwell said. “We should find another way.”
Bristol scoffed at that. “You mean like use a pad and pencil? We’re talking about trillions upon trillions of parallel transactions going on. Yes, there’s the mechanical aspects happening too, but I suspect it’ll be pretty much the same for each one. No … it’s getting the AI working on it, or we’re just wasting our time.”
“My suggestion would be to use something like a portable AI device. Interface it to each unit separately. I have several such devices available for exactly that type of work. I’ll need to create an interface to the accelerators, but that is simple,” Norwell said.
“It’s stupid, is what it is. By the way, just what is it you do here? You can’t honestly think such a device is a workable solution. Look, the Minian’s AI already has all the data … all the information’s stored within the ship’s core. I’m going with my idea. You can shoot me in the back, if you want.” Bristol turned and headed for the exit.
“Where’s he going?” Norwell asked nervously.
Again, a bemused expression returned to Granger’s face. “I suspect he’s heading for the bridge, where he’ll have the most access to ship-wide systems.”
“I should stop him. We’ll be defying the Omni’s orders.”
Granger and Ricket exchanged glances.
Bristol walked between both guards and out the exit.
Granger continued, “Why don’t you tell them the truth, Norwell?”
Norwell didn’t answer.
“What truth is he referring to?” Ricket asked, looking at Norwell.
“The truth that Hobel has no intention of letting any of us live; releasing us, along with the Minian, was all a lie,” Granger said.
Ricket looked to Norwell for confirmation. “Is that true?”
Norwell’s silence was answer itself.
“Caldurians pride themselves in their peaceful ways … risen above the barbaric methods of lesser races, society. But jeopardize their technological advantage over others, and their true nature becomes unequivocally clear. You’ve already witnessed it. Right now, they are desperate, and they are dangerous,” Granger said.
“You speak as if you weren’t one of us, Granger,” Norwell said, sneering.
Ricket said, “So the sooner we find the problem … fix your Zip accelerator issues, the sooner we will be terminated.”
“No one will be terminated,” Norwell said, emphatically. “And don’t forget, your involvement here helps more than just the Caldurians … the impending nanotech issues will affect many others … including your friends.”
“No, maybe not terminated … but we’ll be placed in permanent stasis somewhere within their MicroVault,” Granger added.
Ricket’s mind flashed to Leon and Hanna. Granger was right. Escape was their only hope of getting out alive.
Ricket was hailed by Bristol.
“Go for Ricket.”
“AI’s being initialized … should be fully functional within the next few minutes.”
“Thank you, Bristol. Please return to the Zip Farm. We only have a few minutes left in this session.”
* * *
They were back within the Parcical’s MicroVault terminal, with five minutes to spare. Hobel, dressed in his crisp white uniform, was waiting for them, looking anxious to hear how things had progressed.
Norwell was the first to speak. “We have only just started, Omni. There is still much testing to do. But we believe the answer lies in finding, first-off, what differences there are between the multiple Zip accelerators.”
“That sounds promising. I knew the three of you, with your combined intellects, would come up with a
solution. Is there anything else you need? Perhaps more equipment from the Parcical?”
“Most definitely, we’ll need specific test equipment before our next session. Remember, we require a minimum of four hours down-time before entering the MicroVault again … just to be on the safe side,” Norwell said.
Hobel tilted his head and pursed his thin lips. “Understand, we all must sacrifice our own wellbeing for the greater good … perhaps we can trim that down, say to … two hours?”
“Four. Not a second sooner,” Bristol retorted, on his way out of the compartment. He stopped and popped his head back in. “Okay if I upgrade my nano-devices to the latest version? I noticed a souped-up MediPod in Medical.”
“As long as it does not interfere with the timing of your next session inside the vault,” Hobel said.
Ricket, having completed the same MediPod procedure earlier, thought Granger should probably take advantage of this down time as well.
“Where is Granger, Omni? Should we not wait for him?” Ricket asked.
“No … he will not be joining you this time.”
“Where is he?”
“He is locked within a holding cell. He will be processed for long-term MicroVault storage.”
“We need him … his experience—”
“No, Ricket. You will need to do without his input,” Hobel said. “I also want to speak with you about the junior science officer. Young Bristol? Perhaps it would be best for him to join the others … in stasis … at least, for the time being.”
Ricket was starting to really dislike this Caldurian captain. “I assure you, his contributions have already been beneficial. Together, the two of us will bring about answers, and a fix, much sooner than if we are split up.” Ricket was well aware what was going on here. Hobel feared an attempted escape. The three of them together were too much of a risk.
Hobel seemed to be contemplating his response. “Fine, he stays for now … I won’t waste any more of your time.”
“There is one thing that would be beneficial,” Ricket said.
“Anything.”
“The mecher. There will be some heavy lifting and the robot would be helpful.”
“Of course. Check with Norwell; he knows far more about the disposition of it than I do.”
Things had progressively become more dangerous. Now that Hobel was splitting them up, an escape was looking more and more difficult. Not impossible, but difficult. He could not afford to have Bristol put into stasis—like Hanna and Leon and, soon, Granger. Probably a stasis none of them were intended to awaken from. But at least now the mecher was part of their team. Ricket’s mind began to race … Now what? Just how does one escape from a MicroVault? The beginnings of an idea were forming, but it was preposterous … totally preposterous.
Chapter 18
Open Space, Nagbram System
Parcical, MicroVault Terminal
__________________________
Four hours exactly had passed since their most recent return from the MicroVault. Ricket was the last to hurry into the terminal. He was happy to see the mecher standing next to Bristol. All eyes flashed in Ricket’s direction, palpable tension in the air.
“We cannot have further delays, Ricket. I’m sure you understand the importance of what we are doing here.”
“I’m sorry, Omni,” Ricket said, holding up a portable device of some sort. “Needed to modify this test equipment … I apologize for the delay.”
In truth, he had made no such modifications. He didn’t even know what the item was he’d hastily grabbed off Norwell’s workbench. Secretly, he’d spent the last twenty minutes within the confines of one of the ship’s MediPods. The new modifications made to his internal nano-devices would be an essential component to his plan. A plan as ludicrous to him now as when he’d first thought of it hours earlier.
He tried to hide the fact that he was in pain … excruciating pain. Fortunately, he’d already been updated with the latest, next level comms interface from his initial MediPod session on board the Parcical. Since then, off and on, over the last few days, he’d been tapping in to the MediPod’s computer. Surprisingly, since there were very few safeguards set up against intrusion to the ship from inside, Ricket was able to immerse himself in the MediPod’s root-level software. The added modifications had pushed the limits of what the MediPod was designed for, if not far exceeded them. What he was trying to do was not normal.
But Ricket was not normal. Over the years, he had pushed the boundaries of just how far organic brain matter could be stretched in order to accommodate the intrusion of newer, more advanced, technology. In this instance, the addition of six times his present level of processing power; five times his present bandwidth level of communication; twenty times his present level of diagnostic capability. But adding these levels of advanced tech to oneself had a cost.
In Ricket’s case, it was physically a matter of necessary brain tissue … how far could he go—how much brain matter could he sacrifice—to accommodate large additions of new technology? Granted, the additions weren’t hardware, per se; they were quasi-organic in nature. Pre-matched to his DNA, rejection was not an issue. But Ricket had found nothing in him he couldn’t live without. He’d already removed portions of his brain over the last few years. So the answer was simple … actually, there were two answers: First, he had programmed the MediPod to alter the size of his cranium. The alterations were minimal—barely noticeable, unless one looked for them. He now had a bigger head. Second, he simply squeezed things in—tighter into his skull than was normal. The body is amazing at adapting. Now, standing within the confines of the MicroVault terminal, he inwardly cringed at the pain: both pain and heat. He hadn’t figured on the increased measure of conduction and radiant heat that would pervade his skull with these cranial additions. Within the over-cramped cranial space, less moisture was now present. Ricket quickly rechecked his body diagnostics and saw his core body temperature had risen three degrees since he had left the MediPod.
Hobel was talking, snapping Ricket away from his inner thoughts.
“I’ve been thinking about this endeavor of ours, and I have decided we require far more security. That ship … the Minian … holds the answers to our very survival. Nothing can happen to her … she is literally our most precious resource.”
Ricket noticed movement in the corridor and saw Caldurian soldiers. In fact, the corridor was packed with them, each one wearing a battle suit and armed with a unique version of a multi-gun. This complicates things, he thought.
“From now on, in revolving, twenty-minute shifts, there will be no fewer than one hundred armed guards on board the Minian. I’m certain all of you understand why I must insist on this high level of security. Oh … and one more thing. I am well aware of the reinitializing of the Minian’s AI. Please do not underestimate my ability to observe such things. For now, as long as its assistance is required, it can remain operational in its current state. In the future, you will first clear all such decisions through me. Is that understood?” Hobel stared directly at Bristol.
Bristol shrugged and maintained a bored expression.
“All right, you have twenty minutes. Please make the best of them.”
Norwell tapped at the pedestal’s virtual display and the portal appeared before them.
* * *
They arrived into the Minian’s mess, which had been reconfigured—tables and chairs now moved to one side of the large compartment. The mess was determined to be the best staging area between the Parcical’s MicroVault terminal and the Minian for bringing in personnel, such as numerous armed guards, plus any equipment needing to be transported. There was also a DeckPort, in the nearby corridor, which would quickly gain them access to any other part of the ship.
Norwell moved from a companion virtual pedestal to one within the Parcical’s MicroVault terminal. He closed the open portal.
There were no less than twenty Caldurian guards already awaiting them in the mess.
“No
w there’s a real sign of trust,” Bristol said, eyeing the armed soldiers.
Although no guns were pointed in their direction, it was clear their armed presence was meant to keep watch over them.
One guard, in a group of four, signaled for them to follow. Norwell led the way after them, toward the mess’s exit, followed by Bristol, and Trommy5—the mecher robot. Ricket brought up the rear, four guards following behind him. He used the sleeve of his spacer’s jumpsuit to wipe perspiration from his forehead as a sudden wave of nausea washed over him. He slowed, but kept on walking ahead. Things should get better … in time.
Ricket saw the awkward junior science officer up ahead. “Bristol? Can you hear me?”
“That you, Ricket? This is cool! Much better than that stupid NanoTexting.”
Ricket had to agree. NanoVoice, just one of the newer advanced upgrades they’d each received in their recent MediPod visits, was this comms upgrade. Prior to the upgrade, non-verbal communications was limited to a kind of ocular texting, which was time-consuming—up to the point it was rarely used by any who possessed the internal imbedded nano-device. Their new upgrade was a very welcome one.
“We cannot speak aloud what I’m about to tell you, Bristol. It is evident the Omni, somehow, is watching and listening to everything going on here.”
“Yeah, and that weasel, Norwell, can’t be trusted. I saw him talking to Hobel … he told him about the Minian’s AI being reinstated. Did you know Norwell returned here two hours ago?”
“No. Why would he do that?” Ricket asked.
Ricket (Star Watch Book 2) Page 12