by J. N. Chaney
“Probably the same way Athena did,” said Dressler. “Hard light constructs.”
“Correct, Doctor,” answered Sigmond. “The historical notes suggest this to be the case.”
A set of doors slid open when we approached them, revealing a long corridor ahead. It was well-lit, almost pristine in its appearance. We stepped inside, letting the doors close behind us, and began walking.
“Seems like this Cognitive was in charge of a lot,” said Freddie.
“Athena pilots an entire Moon with a fleet of strike ships,” I said.
“Fair point,” he said.
“A Cognitive can process an exorbitant amount of information,” said Dressler. “Giving them a multitude of responsibilities makes sense.”
“Seems like an awful lot of power to give someone,” said Freddie.
“I’m sure their creators had a way to deactivate them, should they grow unstable,” said Dressler.
“Correct,” inserted Sigmond. “There are failsafes in place, should a Cognitive become too corrupt.”
“See?” asked Dressler. “It’s irresponsible to create something without a means of destroying it.”
“How do you determine if something should be destroyed?” asked Sigmond.
His voice surprised me. It wasn’t like Siggy to ask questions. He just wasn’t the inquisitive type.
“If they’re dangerous or threatening to the people who made them,” answered Dressler.
I paused. “Why are you asking, Siggy?”
“To avoid making a mistake that would result in my own deactivation, sir,” answered the A.I.
“Oh,” I said, partially satisfied with the answer. “So, you asked because you don’t want to do the wrong thing?”
“My purpose is to assist you as far as my programming will allow, sir. If I were deactivated, I would be unable to fulfill this task.”
That made sense. Siggy’s programming pushed him to do his job as efficiently as possible. If he was deactivated, he wouldn’t be able to help me anymore, which would go against that programming. Still, I knew Siggy well enough to know when he was acting strangely. Even if the question made sense, it wasn’t something he would’ve asked. Not before the upgrade to his system. Whatever was going on with this new behavior, it was something new, and I couldn’t anticipate it.
A light blinked in the corner of my visor, indicating our destination. We weren’t far from it now, only a short walk through a final corridor. “Looks like we’re close,” I said as we turned another corner. “Should be just ahead.”
The corridor came into view, a single door at the far end. It opened when we neared it, probably reacting to our tattoos, like everything else in these old Earth facilities.
As the door opened, we found ourselves in a large room, different from all the rest. Consoles and computer systems lined the walls, surrounding us, and at their center, a large device sat waiting.
This was our target, I quickly realized. The device we were supposed to perform the handshake with. There was just one problem.
It was deactivated.
Eleven
Dressler was on her back, beneath an opened section of the device. A bag of tools sat beside her as she worked to get the machine back online.
“Can you at least tell me what’s wrong with it yet?” I asked, standing next to her feet.
“Hold on,” she said, continuing with her hands inside the guts of the console.
I sighed. “Titan is running through a slip tunnel with fifty drones behind it while I’m stuck here waiting on this.”
“You say it like you’d rather be there,” said Abigail.
I gave her a look that told her she was right, which shouldn’t have surprised her. Abby knew me well enough by now to understand how much I hated standing around.
“I almost have it,” said Dressler, strain in her voice as she reached further into the underbelly of the machine. “There!”
With the final word, several lights came on across the dash. “Great job!” exclaimed Freddie, helping the doctor to her feet as she squeezed out from under the console.
“Thank you,” she told him, a satisfied smile on her face. “It wasn’t that difficult. The architecture is almost identical to Titan’s.”
“Does that mean you know how to work this thing?” asked Abigail.
She glanced at the device. “It should react when you touch it, the same as any other old-Earth machine, but I can’t speak to its software yet.”
“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” I said, stepping closer and touching the machine.
My tattoos glowed as I did. “Step one,” said Freddie.
A holo display appeared above the device, written in the same language as Titan’s interface. I still couldn’t read it, but that’s why we had Sigmond with us. “Translate,” I ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Siggy answered. Right away, the letters and symbols fell away, replaced with a more familiar alphabet on my visor.
“Looks like that upgrade was worth the hassle,” I muttered, leaning in closer to the holo. It appeared to be a request for a boot-up sequence, with options to approve or decline. I approved, naturally, and watched as the screen changed again.
“Let me have a look at this,” said Dressler, eying the display.
Another prompt came up, so I decided to step back and let the doctor handle it. I was no technician or engineer, after all. “What’s it say?” I asked her.
“The system had to reboot, but it’s back online now. We just have to show our clearance before we can perform the handshake and disable the drones.”
“Siggy, do you have that?” I asked.
“Affirmative, sir,” answered the A.I. “Stand by.”
Almost immediately, a string of numbers and letters appeared in the upper right corner of my display. “There we go,” said Dressler. “I’ll just enter that, and we should be set.”
“That’s a long sequence,” said Freddie.
“Thirty-seven digits,” said Dressler, tapping the holo for every single one of them.
While we waited, I decided to cut my comm and have a brief conversation with Siggy, since we had the time. “How are you adapting to your new programming?” I paused, wondering if that was the right word for what we’d done to him.
“Thank you for the inquiry, sir. I am adapting well to the new parameters of my most recent expansion.”
“Nothing unexpected?” I asked. “You just seem a little different.”
“I apologize, sir. I shall attempt to appear as I did before, if you believe it will better assist you in—”
“No, don’t do that,” I told him. “Be yourself—or whatever you are. Just don’t hide anything from me. As far as I know, no one has ever fused an A.I. with a Cognitive shell, or whatever it’s called. You just be sure and tell me if anything out of the ordinary happens that I should be concerned about.”
“Yes, sir,” said the A.I. “I will continue to monitor my behavior and personality program.”
I reopened the comm so that the rest of my team could hear me. “How we looking, Doc?”
“Just a few more,” she answered, tapping the holo three more times. “Here we are.”
The display changed, showing another prompt, which read:
INITIATE HANDSHAKE SEQUENCE
YES
NO
Dressler kept her hand hovering over the interface, looking back at me for approval.
“Let’s see it,” I said.
She nodded, then turned and tapped the holo.
The prompt disappeared, replaced with a new message that said:
HANDSHAKE ACCEPTED
ACTIVATING HEPHAESTUS PROTOCOL
PLEASE STAND BY
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.
“I’m not certain,” admitted Dressler.
“Does Sigmond know?” asked Freddie.
I paused, waiting for a response from my A.I., but he didn’t give it. “Siggy?” I finally said. “
You there?”
“Why isn’t he answering?” asked Abigail.
“Could there be something wrong with the comm?” asked Fred.
I shook my head. “It was working fine just a minute ago.”
“Wait!” snapped Dressler. She was back on the holo, examining another prompt, only I couldn’t read it this time. The translated letters were gone. “Something is definitely wrong here.”
“Did we lose our link to the ship?” asked Abby.
“The map is missing, too!” announced Freddie.
I rushed beside Dressler, getting a better look at the holo. “Doc, tell me you can translate this on your own.”
“I’ve been studying the language, but I only know a few basic phrases so far.”
I motioned at the writing. “Well? Can you read any of it? Even just a few words might be useful.”
“Only one word,” she said, staring at the display. “‘Activate’. No, wait. ‘Activation’, I think.”
“That’s it?” asked Abigail.
“I’m sorry. I can only learn so much in such a short amount of time.”
“Forget it,” I said, motioning toward the door. “You said the handshake went through, right? That’s what we came here to do. Let’s get back to the ship so we can contact Athena.”
“Right,” nodded Dressler.
The four of us raced through the corridor, headed toward the landing bay. It wasn’t hard to remember our path, even without the map on our visors. There were only five hallways between us and the ship, after all. Hardly enough for an experienced Renegade to get lost in.
Not to mention Abigail, the former nun and assassin I had at my side. If anyone knew how to move in and out of a facility without a map at their disposal, I guessed it was probably her.
We overshot one of the halls, but doubled back soon after, realizing our mistake. We arrived at the landing bay in little more time than when we’d left it. The Renegade Star was still in the exact same spot, waiting for us, still with its loading door open.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it. Part of me worried that Siggy had closed the door on us. That was the safety protocol, in case he lost contact with me. For whatever reason, he hadn’t done it, which let us climb back onboard the moment we arrived.
I hit the switch to raise the gate as soon as everyone was inside the ship. The second the room sealed, I took off my helmet and tossed it into an open locker. “Siggy!” I barked. “Are you here?”
“Yes, sir,” he answered, immediately. “Communication systems went offline approximately fifteen minutes ago. I apologize for my inability to—”
“Stow the apologies and just tell me what happened,” I said, already moving up the stairs.
“Unknown, but I am performing multiple sensory scans as we speak, sir,” informed Sigmond.
I raced through the hall, toward the bridge. “Start our engines, but let me know if you get anything back from those scans.”
“Understood,” he said.
As I neared the cockpit door, I heard someone running to catch up behind me. “You’re forgetting your gunner,” she called as I stepped inside.
I looked over my shoulder. “I didn’t think I had to tell you to get up here.”
“You don’t,” she said, finally arriving and taking a seat beside me. “Obviously.”
The Star’s engines roared to life as we fastened our harnesses. I grabbed the control stick, only bothering with a brief pre-flight check. “Everything looks good. Let’s get out of here.”
The ship began to hover off the bay floor, then accelerated toward the exterior opening. “Do you think it actually worked?” asked Abby.
I could sense the uncertainty in her voice, because I felt it, too. We had no idea what had just happened. We didn’t even have confirmation on whether the job had been a success or not. All we knew was that the handshake had done something. Whether it was what we intended still remained to be seen.
I pulled up the holo, trying to scan the system. The two stationary drones were still there, right outside. “Hard to say from here,” I said, pressing the sticks forward and taking us away from Abaddon Station. “Let’s poke our heads out and see what we find.”
Twelve
I didn’t cloak us, despite my reservation on the success of our mission. We had to verify the drones no longer saw us as a threat, which meant getting close enough for them to respond to our movements.
Still, I’d take my time with it and approach slowly. The second they so much as twitched, Siggy had orders to raise the cloak immediately.
But as we edged our way toward the nearest drone, it never seemed to move, even when we were right on top of it. “Siggy, run a check on that thing and tell me if it’s still active.”
“Processing,” said Sigmond. After a few seconds, he continued. “I can confirm the drone is still fully operational.”
“Does that mean it doesn’t see us?” asked Abby.
“I believe it is aware of our presence,” said Sigmond. “I detected a brief scan from the drone upon our arrival.”
“So it knows we’re here,” I said, leaning forward. “I guess that means whatever we did worked.”
Abby nodded, her eyes on the same image as mine. “Do you think it worked on the other drones, too?”
“The ships chasing Titan? Only one way to find out.”
I reached below the dash and grabbed the turn-key. “Athena, this is Hughes. You hearing this?”
We waited in silence for several seconds.
“Sir, I believe Titan is still traveling through a slip tunnel,” said Sigmond.
“Does that mean she can’t hear us?” asked Abigail.
“Unknown,” admitted Siggy.
“She told me to use the turn-key when I was ready,” I said.
“Maybe she can hear us, but she can’t respond,” said Abigail.
“Maybe,” I said, grabbing the control stick and bringing us away from the drone. “Let’s head back to the SG Point and wait for Titan to show.”
* * *
We reached the asteroid belt, opting to go around it in order to avoid whatever mines were still inside. Sensors showed the wreckage of several drones inside the belt, but I wasn’t picking up any active ships. Just rocks and debris. It seemed the mines had done a decent job at slowing the drones down and giving Titan the extra time it needed to escape.
A rift formed as we finally neared the edge of the belt, and I raised the cloak to ensure we weren’t taken by surprise.
Several drones came flying out of the tunnel opening, but not nearly as many as I expected. Where were the remaining ships that had chased Titan into slipspace? Had they somehow been destroyed? Was there another fight between our people and those ships?
I felt a panic in my chest as I began to wonder how many of my pilots were dead. For all we knew, Titan itself might have already been destroyed.
But before I could say anything about it, I spotted a second tunnel form, not far from the first, and the sensors detected a familiar signature. “Is it Titan?” asked Abigail.
“It is,” I said, observing the radar, waiting for the holo to give me a better status check. “I can’t tell if they’ve taken any damage yet.”
We watched as the Moon emerged from the tunnel. I felt a wash of relief sweep over me as the sensors detected Titan’s hull, still intact. “Captain Hughes, this is Athena,” said the Cognitive, her voice booming through The Renegade Star.
“We hear you, Athena, loud and clear,” I answered, leaning back in my seat.
“I apologize for the delayed response. Slipspace does not allow for outgoing transmissions. I could only receive.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I told her. “Did the handshake work? Where are the rest of those drones?”
“The drones have ended their pursuit. It seems the other ships have returned to their designated positions along the defense grid.”
“That’s great news!” exclaimed Abigail.
“I must com
mend you all for your success,” said Athena.
“Did all of the pilots make it back alive?” asked Abby.
“There were two accidents, resulting in injuries to the crew members, but no casualties. I am happy to confirm that both are receiving treatment and should make a full recovery,” said the Cognitive. “Would you like a more detailed report?”
“Let’s just regroup and get out of here,” I told both of them. “The second we’re back on Titan, I want us gone. We can talk about the details of what happened after we’re back in slipspace.”
“Understood, Captain,” said Athena. “I’ll be awaiting your arrival.”
I took the controls and igniting thrusters, steering us toward Titan and further away from the asteroid belt.
The plan had worked, so why couldn’t I relax? My mind kept returning to the strange message we’d received after the handshake.
ACTIVATING HEPHAESTUS PROTOCOL
PLEASE STAND BY
What exactly had that meant? Hephaestus was the Cognitive in charge of the defense network, but we’d seen nothing of him before now, and no matter how many times Athena tried, she couldn’t make contact. Was this so-called Hephaestus Protocol different from Hephaestus himself? What exactly did it do?
I’d have to discuss all of this with Athena. She had to know something more about it. Maybe she could shed some light on why our comms had suddenly gone down, out of nowhere and without warning.
I hoped I was fretting over nothing. I was no stranger to paranoia—it had kept me alive until now—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than that. Something was off about all of this, and I aimed to find out what.
Athena had already started opening another tunnel when The Renegade Star entered the landing bay. Before I could set the ship down, we were halfway inside the rift. The green lightning of the tunnel walls flickered and sparked, signaling the next leg of our journey.
After all our time spent searching, running, and fighting, we were about to enter a region of space that no one had seen in nearly two thousand years. Not even Athena knew what to expect, since her records were so outdated.
For better or worse, we were flying straight into the unknown.