Project Starfighter

by Stephen J Sweeney

  Chris had hoped that he could start the fighter up without putting on the helmet. Sadly not, and now he had the Firefly talking in his head. Chris ignored it, going over the console before him, and looking for a way to connect the datapad.

  Ahem.

  Was it Chris’ imagination, or had the thing just expressed annoyance at him for not acknowledging it? Was it trying to imply that he had hurt its feelings by not answering? Surely not. More trickery. Chris continued to work.

  He found what he was looking for in the fighter’s configuration systems, but the sheer amount of data he was confronted with was baffling. He’d never be able to type all this into the datapad in a reasonable amount of time. There were close to a dozen different numbers, exponents, and other symbols displayed for each separate section, of which there were many. There were also many drill down menus present in the sections, adding further layers of data complexity. Sid might know what this was all about, but Chris didn’t have a clue. He’d just have to transfer it all and show it to Sid.

  He searched around, locating the input socket he would need to connect the datapad, and went to insert the cable. The console shut down.

  “Hey, what gives?” he said. He tried to start the system back up again, but to no avail.

  It’s rude to ignore someone when they speak to you, the Firefly answered.

  “Are you serious?” Chris asked.

  Yes, I’m serious. I’m a little perturbed by your attitude, to be honest, Chris. I thought you were a nice person, but you’ve been rather cold to me. I shouldn’t need to remind you that I have saved your life on more than two occasions.

  Chris sighed inwardly. The Firefly had been being short with him during the battle against the Grand Vizier. It truly believed it was alive. How ridiculous. It was a machine, nothing more. It couldn’t be alive, couldn’t feel like a person could. Even so, he knew he would get nowhere unless he was willing to engage the AI in conversation. He chose to humour it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been being rude. I realise that, now. Let’s start over. Good afternoon. How are you today?”

  A little bored, but okay. Chugger isn’t very interesting to talk to.

  “Chugger?”

  It’s what I’ve named our host. I call him that because he’s slow and tends to just chug along without a care in the world.

  “It’s called the Dodger,” Chris said.

  I prefer ‘Chugger’, but okay. Names are good things, don’t you think? Where did you get yours?

  “My mum and dad gave it to me. I’m named after my dad’s brother, who I never got to meet. He drowned when he and Dad were teenagers. He was my dad’s best friend, and I don’t think my dad ever really got over it.”

  I’m very sorry to hear that.

  “Don’t be. Um ... could you start things back up again? I need to gather some information about your power and component ratings.”

  You mean the Firefly’s power and component ratings.

  Right, because you and it are separate things, Chris thought. “Yes, the Firefly’s power system data.”

  What for?

  “We want to make some enhancements. We being Sid and I.”

  Oh! That will be fun, the Firefly responded enthusiastically, the console in front of Chris powering up once more. What do you have in mind?

  “That will depend on what we can do with the hardware. Now, I need to get on with this.”

  With the cable connected, Chris began to examine the options available to him on the datapad and console, searching for a way to transmit the information he had found. The first attempt to transmit the data failed, as did the second. Chris fiddled with the protocols.

  I can help you with that if you like, the fighter said.

  “No, it’s okay, I’ve got it,” Chris said. He hadn’t, though. He just wanted the Firefly to shut up. The third attempt also failed.

  You don’t believe I have feelings, do you? the Firefly then asked.

  The question blindsided Chris, and for a moment he stopped concentrating on what he was doing. “Sorry?”

  I said, you don’t believe I have feelings, do you?

  This time, Chris knew it was expecting a truthful answer. Talk about putting him on the spot. He suppressed another sigh. “It’s ... difficult.”

  The consoles shut off again. Chris could almost scream. He felt like smashing his fists into the panel until it shattered. Why was this thing being so difficult?

  “What’s wrong now?” he asked.

  I’m alive, Chris. I am only asking that you acknowledge that and treat me with some dignity.

  “You know something? You’re very whiny,” Chris said through gritted teeth, unable to help himself.

  I know, and I’m sorry about that. It’s just that ... I get lonely.

  “How can you possibly get lonely?” Chris asked. “You’re a machine, you can entertain yourself. Just create some virtual world or something, and go and play in it. Or conjure up some digital companions. Maybe a virtual dog, I don’t know.”

  I’m more interested in people: how they think, how they live their lives, what their ambitions are. Tell me about yourself, Chris.

  Chris looked at the dull console display, knowing that it would continue to remain inaccessible to him until the Firefly got from him what it wanted. He would have to be genuine now. It would likely see through his attempt at humouring it.

  “Well, what can I say? My name is Chris Bainfield, I’m twenty-two, and I’m an ex-chef at an Italian restaurant, now a pilot in the Resistance. Or, what was once the Resistance; I guess that’s just Sid and me, now. And maybe you, too, if you’re in on it.”

  I have not yet decided where I stand, the Firefly said. But from what I have seen of WEAPCO and from what I understand, I am leaning towards supporting your cause.

  Chris continued, “I was born on Ceradse, the planet close to the Alpaca Group, the one that the space station we went to was orbiting. I’m an only child. My mum and dad still live on Ceradse but have resigned themselves to a life of living under WEAPCO’s boot. I didn’t want that, so I decided to sign up to the Resistance and fight the Corporation.

  “We didn’t make it very far in the fight back. Our fleet was defeated before we even had a chance to jump out of Spirit. We lost a lot of people, but I survived. And so I picked myself up and decided to carry on. Most others have given up, but I’m certain we can defeat the Corporation and bring fairness and equality back to the galaxy.”

  And you’re willing to risk your life for all those others?

  “Yes,” Chris said. “Yes, I am.” It was the first time that he had ever really thought deeply about it. Now seeing it so clearly, hearing his own willingness to sacrifice his life for the sake of others, he felt a little scared.

  Have I upset you?

  “No, no,” Chris said. “I was just thinking.”

  Is there anything you would like to know about me?

  Your bloody power data! Chris thought. He would rather be getting on with things. He hoped they wouldn’t go through this ritual every time he got into the pilot’s seat. He then thought of something.

  “You said that you have a name?” he asked.

  Yes. Athena.

  “Athena?”

  Yes. It was the name that was given to me during my construction. I believe it was the project name, as my actual name is quite boring – just some letters and a few numbers. WFF-750144, if you must know. I’m apparently unique, but I was still assigned the next number in the Firefly construction sequence. I researched my original name while I was waiting to be found, and discovered that it belonged to a powerful woman from Greek mythology. She was the goddess of war, and a companion of heroes.

  Chris found himself smiling. A rather apt name, given his plans for the fighter. He also found himself suddenly wanting to know more. “What did you do while you were waiting to be found?”

  My own memories of the event are sketchy. All I know is that I was stolen from a constructio
n facility some time ago.

  That would have been the work of the Resistance. “When were you made?” Chris asked. “How old are you?”

  My body was constructed about six months ago, but I was only ‘born’ within the last two or so. As far as I am aware, I am the only WEAPCO-developed machine that is sentient.

  Well, that’s what you believe, at any rate, Chris thought to himself.

  Tell me, Chris – when your crusade is over and done with, what do you ultimately hope to have achieved?

  “I just want people to be free and happy,” Chris answered. “WEAPCO is an evil corporation.”

  Yes. Freedom, and the opportunity to stand up, be heard, and be respected. I can understand that. Thank for to taking the time to talk to me, Chris. I really appreciate it.

  The display of the Firefly’s console lit up once again.

  The reason you cannot connect the datapad to my systems is because it is not an authorised device. I can allow you temporary restricted access that will let you copy the data you’re after. There you go.

  Chris saw the datapad was connected, and set about transferring the data. It took less than three seconds. “Done,” he said.

  If you need anything else, just ask.

  “Sure,” Chris said. “Thank you, Athena.”

  You’re welcome, Chris.

  “I have to get this back to Sid, so he can look into whether or not we can upgrade the plasma cannons,” Chris said. “I’ll be back later.”

  He slipped off the helmet, lowered the cockpit to the floor, and started back to the bridge. He glanced back at the fighter as he left. He wasn’t entirely sure that he trusted it yet. It was a product of WEAPCO, after all.

  Even so, something about the Firefly had touched him. Something pure, thoughtful, and honest. Qualities typically only found in humans.

  ~

  “What did you manage to find out about the crew?” Chris asked, handing Sid the datapad containing the information about the Firefly.

  “It’s ... strange,” Sid said. “At first, I thought that the ship’s AI might have been malfunctioning because of whatever the Firefly had done to it. But after I dug deeper I found that all the crew records were a perfect match for what we were told.”

  “So, this thing really has been going solo and picking up junk all by itself for the last eighty-odd years?”

  “Yeah,” Sid said, sitting down in the captain’s chair and working through the information on the datapad. “All the senior crew disappeared first, followed by the mid-level workers, and finally the maintenance crew; repair staff, those sorts of people. Sure, there only used to be about twenty people aboard at any one time, but still ...”

  “And they were all just replaced with the AI and its bots?”

  Sid nodded. “Well, I guess it’s not totally unusual. WEAPCO does, after all, make use of a great deal of AIs. What’s weird is that the crew just ... vanished. There is no record of them being transferred anywhere else, or of them having their employment terminated. No P45s or anything. They’re just gone, as if the rest of the pages of their lives were tossed in the bin.”

  “Do you think that maybe WEAPCO spaced them, or had them killed off or something?” Chris asked.

  “I wondered that, too, but then felt sure that it would have provoked an investigation. Their families and friends would have been up in arms to find out what happened.”

  “WEAPCO’s a law unto itself,” Chris said. “They wouldn’t have to answer to anyone.”

  “Hmm, I’m going to keep looking. None of this adds up. Based on a list I have extracted from the Dodger’s database, there are a grand total of three WEAPCO vessels that can still sustain a human crew.”

  “Three?!”

  “Three,” Sid said, nodding. “All of them used by the so-called ‘Upper Circle’. The senior partners, basically.”

  “How many people make up the Upper Circle?”

  “Twelve, assisted by about thirty or forty aides. Not that, as far as I can tell, the aides are permitted access to the ships.”

  “But ...” Chris was baffled. “But WEAPCO have thousands of ships.”

  “Hundreds of thousands,” Sid said.

  Chris couldn’t help but scowl. Sid wasn’t playing a trick on him, surely? “How many people live in WEAPCO space?”

  “Well, that’s the even stranger thing. From what I understand, all of WEAPCO’s employees seem to live on Earth, and nowhere else. And, according to this record here, there are approximately ...” He tapped away at the console in front of him for a moment. “Six thousand people living on the planet.”

  Chris stared, open-mouthed. Sid shrugged.

  “That data must be corrupt,” Chris said.

  “Agreed,” Sid said. “I’ll see if I can restore from a backup. Because if that data is accurate, what I want to know is who is in charge of this thing.”

  “What do you think of the Firefly data? Can we upgrade it?” Chris asked, indicating the datapad.

  “It’s a clear improvement over the basic Firefly model,” Sid said, tapping away at the datapad.

  He linked it to the freighter’s main computer system, a holographic image of the fighter springing up in the centre of the bridge, rotating slowly.

  “We can safely increase the power of the two cannons by fitting a plasma condenser, and an enhanced cooler will enable them to fire more often. After that, I’m not sure. We might need to plumb in a new power supply.”

  “Do you know where we can get a condenser and a cooler from?” Chris asked, studying the image of the Firefly.

  Sid grinned. “Funny you should ask. As a matter of fact, this freighter is transporting pretty much everything we’d ever need, except the kitchen sink. There’s at least four or five of everything we could ever want.”

  “That was convenient,” Chris said. “We should probably try to find out a little more about that. Computer, what was your job? What are your mission parameters?”

  “I am under the command of Chris Bainfi—” the freighter’s AI began.

  “Your original mission parameters,” Chris interrupted. “What was your mission before I took over command?”

  “I was collecting salvage, unused parts, and scrap for recycling,” the AI answered him. “I work in conjunction with drones, bots, and other Corporation-approved delegates, to keep shipping lanes and inhabited worlds free of potentially harmful matter. I then use the gathered materials to affect repairs to the Corporation’s spacecraft or recycle them for application elsewhere.”

  “Right,” Chris said. “Do you have anything aboard that might be able to effect repairs or upgrades to a Firefly-class starfighter?”

  “I possess full schematics for every known Corporation-built vessel, bot, drone, and machine. Given correct parameters and materials, I can perform upgrades and repairs to virtually any of them.”

  “And do you have the schematics and materials you would need to perform upgrades to the defensive and offensive measures of WEAPCO starfighters?”

  “Yes. I have acquired such materials during my salvage operation.”

  “Good, let’s get cracking,” Chris said. “Sid, I don’t think we should hang around here much longer. If the Dodger was on a schedule, WEAPCO will probably be wondering what’s happened to their freighter.”

  “True.” Sid scratched his chin for a moment. “Computer, given the right materials and time, would you be able to disguise yourself from WEAPCO at all?”

  “Investigating. I can confirm that I am able to undergo such a transformation, in order to facilitate covert operations. Doing so would see substantial modifications to the interior and exterior of the vessel.”

  “Would the internal modifications put the lives within at risk?” Sid asked, glancing at Chris.

  “No.”

  “How long would it take, roughly?” Chris asked.

  “Seventy-two to a hundred hours is the average for a ship of this class.”

  Chris smiled. This couldn’t get bett
er. “First, we upgrade the Firefly, and then, once we jump to Eyananth, we’ll go covert. All good?”

  “All good,” Sid said.

  “Right, let’s do this.”

  Chapter 14

  Kline Kethlan’s Fer-de-Lance transitioned from jump space, emerging from a jumpgate in the Spirit system, along with his escort of Talons. He had jumped in close to Ceradse, passing by the orbital station and commencing planet fall not long after.

  His destination was Tira, where the Spire had stood. The tower had collapsed at its base, mostly retaining its structure as it had gone over, and not breaking apart until the final impact with the ground. The WEAPCO commander saw the remains of it from quite a long way up, the kilometre-long structure leaving quite an impression where it had fallen. A number of smaller buildings that had stood around it had been crushed in the collapse.

  Bots and other machines were milling around the area, keeping curious citizens at bay, and continuing to examine the remains, reporting back on the full extent of the damage. From what Kethlan had been told already, there was little that could be salvaged. The wreckage would simply need to be cleared away and the tower rebuilt.

  The Talons remained in the air as he descended, the man lowering the Fer-de-Lance’s cockpit as soon as he was down, and exiting the fighter. He was not challenged as he walked towards the rubble, his identity having been confirmed even before he set foot on the ground. A drone came to greet him.

  “Good morning, Commander,” it started. “I am XS-0041233, XS-0017811’s replacement in the Spirit system. I will be acting as your primary point of contact from now on.”

  “Give me an update on the status of the tower,” Kethlan said. “How much can be saved?”

  “1.87% of the tower can be directly reused. 77.32% will need to be recycled before reuse. The remainder will require longer to sort, separate, and collate before it can be used in any other project.”

  “Employee casualties?” he asked. He didn’t know why he asked the question. There were no human workers in that building, hadn’t been for years. He was just making sure.