Into the Void

by Nick Webb

  “Not to worry, Ms. Grace. Our AIs are not self-aware, nor will they ever be.” He touched a few buttons on his console and a holographic viewscreen snapped into existence, suspended in the air over his console.

  Jake cleared his throat. He admitted to himself that the idea of a speaking AI, even if supposedly non-self-aware, was a little unnerving. He’d played around with his pads and devices in the past, even named his pad Rodrigo, but the computerized voices from those were so basic, so transactional, there was simply no mistaking it for a thinking being. No pad could ever pass the Quiroga-Turing test. “How can you be sure of that? Isn’t that how the Robot Wars on Earth started?”

  “Read your history, Captain,” said Brand, as he fiddled with the controls and brought up a map of the solar system. “The first cybernetics syndicates had the goal of sentient AI. We do not. We use the AIs as tools and nothing more. They do no thinking for us. Only calculations, and recommendations. With such a sparse crew there’s no chance in hell we’d be able to fight effectively in such a large warship as this. It’s just not possible without AI assistance.”

  The AI’s voice broke a momentary silence. “Shall I engage the engines, sir? The crew is now all aboard.”

  At the suggestion, Anya tossed her hands up and yelled, “What the actual fuck? Your AI suggests you do things? You’re playing with fire here, Brand.” Jake discretely waved a hand across his throat, indicating to her to shut up.

  “Captain Brand, excuse our concern, but being from Earth ourselves, our heritage from the Robot Wars is pretty firmly in our minds. Some east coast cities still haven’t recovered from the devastation. Hell, half a dozen South American cities are permanently buried under the rubble. They were left that way as an example and a reminder,” he gazed at Brand, catching his glance and holding it, “to never go down that road again. It’s too risky.”

  Brand finally nodded. “I understand your concern, Captain. I assure you, again, that our AIs are non-self-aware. Permanently. There are safeguards in place to assure that never happens. Ever. End of story.” He pointed a finger to the map he’d brought up on the holographic screen. “Shall we go on?”

  Jake watched Brand’s stern eyes for a moment, before nodding. “Of course.”

  “Awaiting orders, sir,” came the disembodied voice again.

  Brand shook his head. “Not now, Sal.”

  Anya blew a breath of annoyance out. “Sal? You named your fucking computer?”

  “Grace,” Jake said warningly.

  Brand chuckled, shrugging off Anya’s concerns. “It got a little awkward calling her computer all the time. We ready to move on?”

  “Yes,” said Jake, turning a stern glance to Anya, who finally nodded.

  “Good. If you’ll take a look here,” he said pointing to the map hovering above the console, “you’ll see the Phoenix has shifted to the largest star in the Void, Crimson 5982.”

  “Why there?” asked Anya. “It’s uninhabited, right? Why would they go to a lifeless star system?”

  Jake nodded. “Makes sense. They don’t know how to get out of the Void. There’s no star massive enough or close enough to the Void to allow for a direct shift. At least not from Oberon. So the logical choice is to go to the largest mass star within reason and try to figure things out from there.”

  Brand studied the star map, finally nodding his agreement. “Makes sense. But they’ll be in for a surprise. There really is no way out of the Void for a ship of that size. A ship like the Indomitable might be able to make it. Might. Even we’d still rely on the gravitic beacon that the government controls, but really, we’ve never had much of a need to leave. We only maintain that beacon for the sparse trade we have with nearby systems just outside the Void. It’s been to our benefit to be as self-sufficient as possible.” He turned to look questioningly at Jake and Anya. “What’s the story with these people anyway? The folks that have commandeered the Phoenix?”

  Jake looked at Anya, as if asking her how much was necessary to say. “The 51st brigade. It’s a group of elite soldiers that stormed our vessel as we were trying to escape Earth a few weeks ago. While they were aboard the Phoenix we managed to escape.”

  “And you let them live?” Brand sounded incredulous.

  “Yes. It was either that, or lose dozens more of our own men trying to subdue or kill them. And believe me, it would have been a fight to the death. Imperial troops do not surrender themselves as prisoners. It’s Imperial policy—any soldier captured is dead to the Empire. So that if any former POW returns, well, it’s probably better for them to not return. Imperial interrogation techniques can be … uh, brutal.”

  “So why did they give up?”

  Jake hesitated, and Anya filled in for him. “He practically begged them to. Said we were all one big happy family and that he’d help them find a new home, away from the Empire.”

  Brand looked skeptical. “And they went for it?”

  “What choice did they have? It was either death at our hands, or torture and life imprisonment—maybe death—at the hands of the Imperials if we just returned them to the Empire. So Sergeant Tomaga, their leader, agreed that they would be our guests until we could find a suitable place to drop them off. And in fact, they’ve come in handy. I don’t know if the rescue mission on Destiny would have happened without them.” He paused, seeing a questioning look in Brand’s face. “But that’s another story. The point is, how do we get the ship back?”

  They all sat staring at the holographic screen for awhile. Brand tapped the console absent-mindedly. “Can we do a grav shift into her fighter bay? Is it big enough to hold a ship like the Indomitable?”

  Anya chuckled. “Not even close. Maybe length-wise, but it’s way too narrow for this baby.”

  “Any the Phoenix has an anti-grav field present at all times just outside the hull to prevent anyone from doing just that,” said Jake.

  “Docking hatches?” Brand continued drumming his fingers.

  “Yeah, but there’s no way we could dock while under fire,” said Anya.

  “What if they weren’t firing at us?” asked Jake. “What if we could talk to them first and convince them, somehow, for the need to dock?”

  It was unlikely, he knew, but he couldn’t afford to lose any more crew members in an ill-fated attack on his own vessel. Tomaga showed once he was capable of talking through a violent situation. Maybe he would be again.

  Captain Brand shrugged. “Maybe. You know these people better than I do. But if I were them and I had the Phoenix at my command, why would I listen to you? What could you offer me to get me to listen?”

  Anya pointed at the star map. “Passage out of the system. They have no idea how to get out. We could bargain with them—a way out, for….” She trailed off.

  “For the ship?” Jake rolled his eyes at her. “We’ll tell you how to pilot the ship out of here, but you have to give it to us first? Nice, Grace.”

  She shot him a smirk. “Ok, what do you got?”

  Silence.

  Brand cleared his throat, and began hesitating, as if unsure of himself. “I … I know your feelings about the Taboo. About AI. But if I may ask, what is your computer on the Phoenix like? Does it have a wireless interface? Can it be remotely controlled?”

  Jake shook his head. “You can access it remotely, of course, but remote functionality is highly limited.”

  “So, you’re saying it’s possible to establish direct communication with the computer?”

  Jake nodded slowly. “Yeah, I suppose. What are you getting at? I can’t very well call up the computer and turn the damn ship off.”

  “No,” began Brand, “but Sal can.”

  “You’re bat shit crazy,” muttered Anya. “Jake, you can’t give their zombie AI control over our ship.”

  Jake held up a silencing hand again to his wing commander. “I’m listening,” said Jake. “What are you suggesting?”

  ***

  The deck below engineering looked deserted, which was j
ust as well because Ayala still had no idea how they would lure one of the 51st brigade out. But all she needed was a few minutes with him.

  Preferably alone, she thought, eyeing Galba as he rubbed his stomach.

  “Willow, I’m telling you that if I don’t eat soon, I’m going to collapse. Look at me! I’m shaking.” He held up a quavering hand, looking at it with a mix of concern and fear. She rolled her eyes. It was as if he’d never experienced more than a few hours without eating. Not like her. Every Belenite knows how to fast. Often for days on end.

  “Is that all you can think about? In this situation? Honestly, Harrison, I wonder about you sometimes.”

  “Wonder about me? I’ve barely eaten in weeks! It’s you who’s got something wrong with her head, strutting around the ship like you’re about to take on an entire brigade of soldiers by yourself. Honestly, Willow, this is crazy.”

  She shrugged. “Fine. It may be crazy, but we’re still going to do it. We’ve fought too hard for too long only to have our ship stolen out from under us. I’ve wandered my whole life, Harrison, as a Belenite and as someone whose own parents basically disowned her when I announced I wasn’t following in their career footsteps as a diplomat. And now that I have a place to call home I sure as hell am not going to lose it to a bunch of grunts.” She pointed down the hallway. “If you’re that hungry, the mess hall is just down there. I’m sure there’s some leftovers for you.”

  “Perfect,” he said, and plodded down the corridor to the mess hall. As he rounded the corner, he gasped, and darted back into the corridor, his eyes wide. “There’s someone in there,” he mouthed to her, pointing.

  She advanced down the corridor and peered into the cafeteria from around the corner.

  And laughed.

  “Finally got your seconds, Jeremiah?” She walked up to the boy who was sitting at one of the tables, eating from a feast of food laid out in front of him. Jeremiah nodded vigorously.

  From the galley came a voice. “Found some juice, and some old muffins. You want those too? You know, back when I worked here, the cook would have killed me if he ever caught—” the owner of the voice emerged from the galley and nearly dropped the pitcher of juice when he saw Ayala and Galba. “Ensign Ayala! You’re here!”

  “Gavin Ashdown? You’re the new pilot, right?” Ayala vaguely recognized the man. Or boy. She wasn’t sure how old he was. He didn’t look much over eighteen.

  “Yeah.” He glanced nervously at Jeremiah, who was still busy wolfing down food. “Captain asked me to keep an eye on Jeremiah while he was gone.” He grimaced. “Looks like he’ll be gone a little longer than he’d hoped.”

  She nodded. “Yes. But we’re working on a plan. We’ll get the ship back.” She also glanced nervously at the boy eating ravenously at the table. “You just keep an eye on him. Don’t let him go anywhere,” she said, remembering his outburst on the bridge. She didn’t want anything similar happening in the middle of whatever plan they came up with.

  She glanced around the room and saw a computer terminal. Sitting down in front she brought up a schematic of the ship. Yes, just as she thought, the main power conduits that ran from engineering to the main gravitic generators and all the lower decks ran through the deck, near the stairwell. Flipping through all the power subsystem controls, she had an idea.

  If Galba could cause a ruckus with a few targeted power failures, why couldn’t she?

  But after several minutes it became clear to her that what was easy for him was difficult for her. She didn’t have security access to the power subsystems. No one did, in fact, outside of a few on the engineering crew and the captain. She glanced over at Galba, who’d joined Jeremiah in his feast, and satisfied he was occupied, she entered in his diplomatic security credentials.

  A soft computerized voice said, “please present yourself for biometric confirmation.”

  She scowled at the screen.

  “Harrison, I need you here.”

  Reluctantly he got up and walked over, leaning over her to look at the terminal. “Yes?”

  “Get me into the power subsystems and I can create a distraction that will draw one or two of them out of engineering.”

  “How so?”

  “If I cut the power to the gravitic generators, causing the disruption here on this deck, one of them will have to come out to fix it, or they won’t be shifting anywhere. When they do, that’s when we grab him.”

  ***

  The loading of the crew into the Sons of Oberon frigates was a simple matter that only took an hour or so once all the ground cars had arrived from the Ashari Opera House. More difficult was explaining to all the thirteen groups exactly what the plan was and to distribute tasks and assignments, all without knowing exactly what the situation on the ground looked like aboard the Phoenix.

  They decided that since the Phoenix only had three docking hatches, that only three of the frigates would attempt to dock, and that therefore only three teams would attempt to board.

  “We could dock six ships if we got the first three ships out of there quickly,” said Ben once he’d joined Jake aboard the Indomitable for a senior staff meeting. Jake looked around the table. Ben, Anya, Roshenko, Avery, and Bernoulli.

  Po should have been there.

  She was out there somewhere. He’d find her. Somehow.

  Jake shook his head. “No. Too dangerous. Brand thinks Sal can get control of our computer for a while, long enough to shut down the weapons systems, but for Tomaga to manually override those systems is a cinch. They could be up and running and firing at us within a few minutes.”

  “Is this wise, Captain?”

  Jake almost did a double-take at the question. The voice was Bernoulli’s, but without the typical boisterous lilt and without the usual “friend” he used to address the Captain.

  “Of course not, Al. But isn’t it our only choice? Sometimes you’ve got to take risks to win, Commander.”

  “Yes, friend, very true. But,” he paused. Bernoulli never hesitated. But he struggled for words as if he were deeply conflicted. “But … the Taboo. How can we be sure that this AI is truly non-self-aware? We all know the dangers of conscious artificial intelligence. Depending on the level of intelligence it could even copy itself into our own software, and then, friend, well, we’re fucked.”

  Jake sighed. “People,” he looked around the table. “We have not had any issues with hostile AI in the past six hundred years. Not one. And Brand has assured me that Sal is nothing! She’s not aware. She’s a machine.”

  Bernoulli snorted. “No, the engineer I slept with last night, she was a machine, let me tell you. But Sal—” he paused, considering his words. Jake wondered at his strong feelings regarding the Taboo. Most people just accepted the Taboo without question and moved on. But Bernoulli was strangely moved. “Do you know why the Pax Humana exists?”

  Jake did a double take. “The Pax Humana? The Empire?”

  “No,” said Bernoulli, shaking his head. “The Pax Humana. It’s the concept that the Empire shrouds itself in. It rules in the name of the Pax Humana. The Human Peace. Back in ancient times the Romans ruled in the name of the Pax Romana. The Roman Peace. A peace so universal, upheld by the legendary might of the Roman empire, that none dare defy it. And so it enjoyed peace for hundreds of years. Have you ever wondered why we call it the Pax Humana when there are clearly only humans in the galaxy? Who are we keeping the peace for? Who are we defending against?”

  “Uh, the pirates?” suggested Ensign Roshenko.

  “No. The only other beings in the galaxy besides humans. Artificial intelligence.” He turned to the young Ensign. “Wars were fought over it, Ensign. Terrible, bloody, heartlessly destructive wars. Hundreds of millions dead. All because we fancied ourselves creators of being. Creators of life. Well, we’re not, and we should have nothing to do with anything that even hints of coming close to it. Hence, the Taboo.” He folded his arms, as if decided they would have nothing to do with the computer onboard the Indomi
table.

  They sat in silence for a few moments, before Jake looked up at the ceiling. “Sal, are you there?”

  “Yes?,” came the warm, vaguely female voice.

  “Tell me, Sal, are you self-aware?”

  “No.”

  Jake smirked at Bernoulli. “See?”

  Bernoulli looked uncharacteristically grave. “Friend, this is no joking matter.”

  “Fine.” He looked up at the ceiling again. “Sal, what is the scope of your programming? Your purpose?”

  A pause. “Please rephrase.”

  “What sorts of decisions can you make?”

  “The onboard computer is responsible for routine adjustments to power settings, minor course corrections, environmental controls, gravitic shift calculations, and warfare tactics.”

  Jake raised his eyebrows. “Warfare tactics?”

  “Yes. The computer calculates likely targets and presents the options to the tactical officers. The tactical officer then makes the final decision on targeting and maneuvering in the absence of a general order to engage in auto-firing.”

  “Can you completely run the ship in battle with no external human help?”

  “Yes, if given an order to do so.”

  Jake paused, trying to come up with questions that would reveal any lack of consciousness—anything that would satisfy Bernoulli.

  Alessandro cleared his throat. “Listen you boxy bitch, tell me what you would do if presented with two firing options, one that would end the battle and save the life of your crew but result in the deaths of several dozen innocent civilians, and the other likewise resulting in a win, but with no civilian casualties but also in the death of your Captain. Which do you choose?”

  Jake frowned at Bernoulli, before finally understanding. He needed to be asking the AI values-based judgements, not factual questions.

  “Neither one,” replied Sal.

  “Explain,” said Bernoulli.

  “The computer is not equipped to make values-based judgements. It can not weigh the value of human lives against each other. Such decisions are left up to the tactical officer.”