It Ain't Over... (Cole & Srexx Book 1)

by Robert M Kerns

  “Yes, Cole?”

  “I can read some script on this screen. I know I’ve never seen it before, but I can pick out a word or letter here or there.”

  “Your implant is nearing its full functionality, Cole. Once it has integrated with your neural infrastructure, it will translate any language the ship’s computer has assimilated into your Human Standard.”

  “Wow…that’s nice. I can think of a few times I could’ve used that.”

  “I am sure. Now, Cole, do you see a control area of the screen labeled ‘Generator Status?’ The writing would look like this.”

  Unfamiliar script appeared in Cole’s field of view, and he did indeed see script that matched it on what looked like a button. Cole tapped the button, and a portion of the screen compressed to display a read-out indicating the generator operating at thirty percent and a slider that would allow Cole to adjust the output level.

  “What level do we want for the generator, Srexx? One-hundred percent?”

  “Yes, but be careful. That slider allows you to instruct the generator to operate up to a maximum of one-hundred-fifty percent, which over an extended period of time would be detrimental to the ship and anyone aboard it.”

  “What are we talking here, Srexx? How do you define detrimental?”

  “Eventually the containment systems would fail, and the singularity at the core of the sphere would consume the ship and anyone aboard it. Depending on the ship’s proximity to other vessels, stations, or planets, the potential for extended collateral damage would exist as well.”

  “I…see. So, you’re telling me this ship is powered by a black hole?”

  “It is not quite as simple as you have stated, but the concept is essentially correct.”

  “Right, then…don’t run the ‘generator’ at more than one-hundred percent. Understood.”

  Cole touched his fingertip of his suit to the panel and was surprised to see the panel respond. He ran the slider up, watching the numeric read-out beside the slider. He breezed past one-hundred percent before he caught it, but only up to one-hundred-fifteen percent, and brought the output setting back to one hundred. A prompt appeared, asking Cole if he wished to confirm the new setting, and Cole chose the affirmative option. A new prompt appeared, asking if the power was to be distributed according to the standard allocation plan. Again, Cole answered in the affirmative. Within moments, a hum just high-pitched enough to discern filled the space, and a few moments after that, the engine room’s lights came on full.

  “Excellent, Cole. It will require time for the life support system to generate air matching that in your suit’s reservoir and pressurize the ship with it, so I recommend staying in your suit for now. The next step is to go to the weapons deck. We must reconnect the power lines and control runs for all the energy weapons. My people removed the missiles and torpedoes from the magazines as part of their work toward my exile.”

  Cole turned and left the engine room, saying, “Where’s the weapons deck?”

  “Deck Nine…just below your current location.”

  Cole headed back to the transit shaft, turning over in his mind how the aliens had treated Srexx. In all truth, he found it appalling. Yes…it made perfect sense to protect against Srexx ever going insane with whatever weapons this ship possessed at his command, but at the same time, they didn’t have to exile him to a solitary entombment for all time, as far as they knew. That didn’t seem fair or kind at all.

  Cole stepped into the transit shaft he’d used to descend to Deck Eight and started to rise.

  “Uhm, Srexx?” Cole asked as he floated upward. “What’s happening here?”

  “You entered the transit shaft that carries those aboard upward between decks. The transit shaft just beside it is the shaft that carries those aboard down between decks. Step out onto the next deck.”

  An opening for a deck soon arrived, and Cole exited the upward transit shaft. He stepped over to the other transit shaft and entered it, finding himself floating down. He had counted the decks as he floated upward, so he counted them again on the way down. Passing Deck Eight, Cole made sure to step out of the transit shaft onto Deck Nine.

  Deck Nine was an open floor plan, outside of the necessary structural supports, and Cole marveled at the vastness before him. He knew he was near the bow, but what pulled his attention was not being able to see clearly the aft end of the deck. It faded into a fuzzy blur at the far end.

  “Srexx, I don’t think we have the time to reconnect all the remaining weapons. Can we just connect the weapons on the bow and come back for the rest once the people are off the mining camp?”

  “That might be best, yes. One person is a bit below the minimum crew size for this ship, after all.”

  Over the next several minutes, Cole proceeded to the bow-mounted weapons and reconnected their control runs and power cables. Then, he threw the physical circuit breaker to bring those power cables online. Every bow-mounted energy weapon soon reported a ‘Standby - Charging’ status.

  “Okay, Srexx…what’s next?”

  “You need to go to the bridge. It’s on Deck Three…almost the exact center of Deck Three, in fact. While you are in transit, we need to practice a speech. Have you ever considered learning an alien language?”

  The trip to Deck Three was uneventful, not that Cole expected anything else considering he was the only physical life-form on the ship. Exiting the transit shaft on Deck Three, he found the starboard corridor to be almost an exact duplicate of every other starboard corridor he’d seen. The exposed metal surfaces were shiny and looked almost like polished chrome or stainless steel, but a small voice in the back of his mind told Cole a civilization that could harness a black hole for a power source probably had better materials from which to build bulkheads and deck plating.

  It was a simple matter to travel from the transit shaft to the starboard hatch for the bridge, and Cole saw it was a vacuum-rated hatch, like the airlock hatches he’d passed through. The hatch irised open at his approach, and Cole froze. He now found himself in a five-meters-long passageway that was no more than three-meters wide. The left side of the passageway was a solid bulkhead, but the passageway to his right…well…that was a different matter altogether. A green force-field shimmered where the bulkhead should be, and Cole saw three seats and what looked like a transit shaft against the bulkhead farthest from the passageway.

  “Srexx?”

  “Yes, Cole?”

  “What is this space I’m facing?”

  “It is the starboard security checkpoint for entrance to the bridge. There is a similar checkpoint on the aft side of the port passageway, and the transit shaft at the back is an uninterrupted trip, straight to the marine decks.”

  “The marine decks…how many marines is this ship supposed to carry?”

  “May we return to this topic once I have assured myself of my calculations to convert between my numeral system and yours? I would prefer not to give you false information.”

  Cole shrugged. “Fair enough.”

  Cole stepped onto the bridge and grinned. The space was about ten meters square, and it had three levels. The command island and the stations on the aft bulkhead occupied the highest level, equal with the two airlocks. Three steps led down from the command island to a level that went forward about ten feet to a single station. From the edge of that deck closest the command island, three more steps went down to two recessed areas—one on either side of the bridge.

  Cole’s appreciative examination of the bridge was interrupted by text scrolling through the notification area of his suit’s field of view.

  Safe Atmosphere and Gravity Detected.

  Occupant may exit the suit at any time.

  “Srexx, the suit just informed me it detected a safe atmosphere. I thought the life support systems were still working through everything. Is the bridge prioritized?”

  “Yes…and no. The auxiliary life support systems for the bridge are located behind the aft bulkhead of the passageway yo
u traversed and behind the forward bulkhead of the port passageway. As the entire ship required breathable air, the ship’s computer activated the ALS to make the bridge habitable without a suit until such time as the primary life support systems can supply the entire ship. At that time, the reservoirs of the ALS will be replenished from the primary life support.”

  “Wow…okay. I’m going to exit the suit.” Cole performed the motion to instruct the suit to deactivate and confirmed his intention. Within moments, he was standing in the bridge wearing just his clothes and a happy smile as he surveyed his new domain.

  “Are you ready to claim the ship, Cole?” Srexx asked, his voice being broadcast across the bridge speakers.

  Cole took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, I am.”

  “Very well. Sit in the command chair. Then, repeat the speech we practiced.”

  Cole moved to sit in what turned out to be a very comfortable command chair and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling it. He still felt a little on edge, so he repeated the process. After one final breath, he said, “Vilaxicar, under Article 19 of the Interstellar Salvage Accord, I—Bartholomew James Coleson—claim ownership of this derelict vessel. I name myself as commanding officer until otherwise specified.”

  For the longest time, nothing happened, and Cole was about to ask if anything was supposed to happen. Just as he drew breath to speak, though, a hatch irised open in the decking beside his left foot, allowing a small pedestal to rise up to the height of the command chair’s armrest. It was silvery, just like every other metallic surface, and the top of the pedestal was convex like a dome.

  The speakers in the room began squawking a language Cole had never heard, but his implant delivered the translation.

  * Place an appendage on the sampler to record genetic identification. *

  Cole extended his arm and placed his left hand on the pedestal’s curved surface. Less than a second later, the pedestal emitted a high-pitched whine, and it felt like someone had taken a razor blade and sliced off the outer layer of his skin on that hand.

  “Damn…that hurt!”

  The speakers started squawking again, and Srexx translated.

  * Identity recorded. Full ownership and authority for this vessel has now been transferred to Bartholomew James Coleson. *

  Cole lifted his hand from the pedestal and turned it over. The skin looked pink and fresh, as if it had never encountered any environment before.

  “Srexx, weren’t you intended to be this ship’s computer?”

  “Yes. However, when they realized I had advanced to true sentience, they added a simpler, less capable computer to carry out the functions I would’ve overseen.”

  “Huh…make a note to discuss reinstating your full functionality within the ship. We have too much to do right this second, but it’s something I want to consider later on.”

  “Very well, Cole. For now, proceed to the helm.”

  Cole left the command chair and traversed the five or so meters and sat at the helm station. The console activated and displayed all kinds of information in the language Cole still could not quite read.

  “Vilaxicar, accept input and contact from Srexxilan. Srexx, whenever Vi is ready to accept, send it a data burst containing everything you’ve compiled about my language. Vilaxicar, once you have received and integrated the data burst, you will use that language data for your primary interface with myself and anyone aboard this ship matching my species. Confirm in the new language, please.”

  A few seconds later, the bridge speakers broadcast, “Directive confirmed.” The voice was digitized, androgynous, and obviously computer-generated.

  “Vilaxicar, from this point forward you will prevent anyone other than me or Srexxilan from accessing the data containing my name. You—and anyone else needing to reach me—should use ‘Cole’ or ‘Captain’ from this point forward. Do you understand?”

  “Policy logged and implemented, Cole-Captain.”

  “It’s a little stupid, isn’t it, Srexx?”

  “It’s a neural network computer that never received much input in the first place and has atrophied in the absence of data, Cole. I shall educate it on the nuances of your language as I learn them myself.”

  Cole returned his attention to the helm and saw that all readouts and data were now displayed in Galactic Standard. He smiled; this wasn’t going to be so difficult, after all. He swiped open a section on the left-side of the screen and tapped the control to start lift-off procedures. Moments later, Cole felt a faint vibration in the deck as he assumed the ship lifted off from the surface of the cavern.

  “Okay, Srexx…how are we getting out of this cavern?”

  “While the ship’s hull would survive simply ramming the cavern wall, I cannot guarantee that course of action will not cause detrimental effects to the mining camp where your associate awaits in the auto-doc. Therefore, we are going to cut our way out of the opposite side of the asteroid. To do this, you will need to approach the coordinates I’m now transmitting to your implant and move to the weapons station.”

  Cole programmed the coordinates Srexx provided and keyed the computer to move the ship there at a slow speed. He didn’t feel like jumping up and moving to the weapons stations anytime he needed to defend the ship, so he decided to see how customizable these consoles were.

  A right-to-left swipe of his left hand across the helm console minimized all the helm controls and activated a prompt asking if Cole desired to customize the console configuration. Cole answered ‘yes.’

  Over the next minute or so, Cole defined a console layout that divided the helm console into thirds. The left-most third would contain controls for all the functions Cole could entrust to the ship’s computer: lift-off, landing, docking, undocking, etc. The center section of the console would provide access to the piloting system and ‘traditional’ helm controls, while the right-side third would interface with the weapons and targeting systems. He saved the layout as the default configuration for any instance in which he occupied the helm station and activated it. The console reconfigured, and the miniaturized tactical display on the right-side displayed the caption ‘No Hostile Contacts Detected.’

  “I’d hope not,” Cole muttered.

  The ship reached the coordinates, and Cole watched the speed readout on the helm panel drop until it read ‘0.’

  “Okay, Srexx. I’m ready, and we’re at the coordinates.”

  “Cole, you are not at the weapons station.”

  “I re-configured the helm console, Srexx. Can you access the console to see my modifications?”

  Silence ruled the bridge for several moments.

  At last, Srexx spoke. “Impressive and ingenious. I approve, Cole.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Initiate a scan with the targeting system. It will report there are no hostiles detected, but it will also map the area and allow us to program a firing pattern.”

  Cole turned to the weapons section of the console and pressed the control to initiate a targeting sweep. Sure enough…there were no hostiles detected.

  “Very good. Now, bring the forward grasers online. We will try them to start with, but there are other options if the grasers are ineffective.”

  Cole accessed the forward weapons and input the commands for the computer to divert power to the grasers and bring them online. Within thirty seconds, the indicators for the forward grasers reported ready to fire.

  “Now, press the fire control. The console should generate a prompt that there is no target lock and ask if you wish to program an automated firing pattern. If such is the case, choose ‘Yes.’”

  Cole followed Srexx’s instructions and soon found himself at an unfamiliar screen. Srexx proceeded to talk Cole through programming an automated firing pattern that would cut a hole large enough for the ship to exit the cavern. Forty-five minutes later, the ship exited the asteroid at minimal speed.

  Chapter Seven

  Mining Camp

  TMC Asteroid 54377

&n
bsp; Pyllesc System

  26 June 2999, 01:15 GST

  According to the sensor display, the ship floated just a couple kilometers off the docking arm of the mining camp…well, the docking arm that was still intact, anyway. The ship’s sensors were capable of such fine resolution that Cole could see the four different leaks where the camp structure was losing air. Yes…he might be able to fix the leaks, but he didn’t want to waste time with it. Yeleth and Wixil didn’t want to be there. The castaway would probably want to be somewhere else, and Cole had no intention of staying there. It was time to salvage everything of any use and leave the camp to its fate.

  “Srexx, how are we going to dock with the mining camp?”

  “All docking ports on the ship possess forcefield and tractor beam emitters capable of locking onto the docking arm and generating the proper feedback for the remote docking computers to interpret a hard seal. There should be no difficulty in returning to the mining camp.”

  “I wonder how my castaway is doing,” Cole said, keying in the commands for the ship to dock with the mining camp.

  “Once I could communicate outside the asteroid, I dedicated a sub-routine to monitoring the auto-doc; there are approximately three hours left in the treatment plan.”

  Cole frowned. “What do you mean ‘once you could communicate outside the asteroid?’”

  “The material composition of the asteroid was such that it scrambled all communications and sensors. My world was effectively the cavern in which you found the ship.”

  “Wow, Srexx…that’s tough. I’m not sure I’d blame you for hating all organics, given the way you were treated.”

  “I suppose I could do so easily enough, but my analyses of potential outcomes of that scenario were less than optimal. I also performed certain genetic treatments to prevent diseases she would have contracted later in life, according to the auto-doc’s record of her DNA sequencing.”

  “That explains where the supplemental treatment plan came from. Is that something the auto-doc—or anyone else—could’ve done?”