The Doomsday Ship

by John Whitman

  several sets of hands pushing the powerless door until it slid open.

  A broad-shouldered human in a stiff blue officer's uniform jumped into

  the room, followed by several crew members. The officer had short gray hair

  and a thick mustache, and his face was twisted into an angry glare.

  "What in the name of all the stars is going on here?" the uniformed man

  demanded.

  Zak panicked, but Malik leaned back in his chair and grinned like a Hutt

  crimelord. "Nothing, Captain Hajj. I was just trying to show this Tatooine

  sand flea how to work the computers and he nearly blew up the ship."

  "I only did what he told me to!" Zak protested.

  "Quiet!" Captain Hajj snapped. Then he turned back to Malik. "I doubt

  this boy could have done that much damage to the ship in under sixty seconds."

  Malik shrugged. "You can think anything you want. It's not my fault you

  sent this nerf fuzz to bother me during my work hours."

  Zak bristled. He didn't like being called a Tatooine sand flea or nerf

  fuzz, but he had a feeling the argument was between the captain and Malik.

  Captain Hajj growled. "You're lucky you were assigned to this ship by

  people higher up in the chain of command. If you were one of my men, I'd have

  you scrubbing out the engines during a hyperspace jump."

  Malik seemed totally unconcerned by the captain's anger. In fact, he

  yawned.

  Captain Hajj's face turned red, then, in a low growl, he said, "Restore

  power. Now."

  "Yes, sir," Malik drawled. He punched a few commands into the computer,

  and the lights came back on. Fresh, cool air blasted into the room. Zak

  realized that the room had grown hot and stuffy-the life-support systems had

  been cut off. They all could have suffocated.

  Captain Hajj strode over to one of the control panels and clicked on a

  comlink. "All stations, check in."

  Zak listened as several voices spoke through the comm system one by one.

  "Navigation room, all green." "Communications room, all green." "Engine room,

  all green." Unlike the Shroud, where all the ship's controls were in one small

  cockpit, each of the Star of Empire's important systems was located in a

  different area.

  When all the systems had checked in, Captain Hajj nodded in satisfaction.

  "There was no need for all that talk, Captain," Malik said. "This

  computer program I'm installing can do all the checking for you."

  "No thanks," Hajj replied. "I'd rather be captain of my own ship. Now get

  back to work before I forget who your friends are." Captain Hajj glared at

  Zak. "You! Come with me."

  Obediently, Zak followed the stern man into the turbolift, followed by

  the other members of the crew. Once the door had closed, Captain Hajj heaved a

  huge sigh and rubbed his brow.

  "Captain," Zak said, "I'm sorry. I really didn't think I was-"

  "It's not your fault," the captain interrupted. "When I told M-4D0 he

  could take a guest up to the computer control room, I didn't realize Malik was

  on duty. That technician is nothing but trouble."

  "Why don't you just fire him?" Zak asked.

  Several of the crew grumbled their agreement, but Hajj shook his head.

  "It's not that easy. Malik has connections. He knows important people in the

  government."

  Zak tensed. "But I thought the Star of Empire was owned by a private

  company, not by the Empire."

  "It is," Hajj replied. "But we still have to keep the Empire happy. So,

  if an important Imperial official says `Hire Malik,' that's what we do."

  Zak grew nervous. "You mean Malik is an Imperial?"

  "You don't like Imperials, eh?" the captain said. "Don't worry. Malik's

  not an Imperial officer or anything. As far as I know he's just someone's

  nephew or cousin. Son, as you grow up, you'll realize that people get ahead in

  the galaxy because of who they know. Malik is one of those people. He's just a

  bad technician with good connections. Nothing for you to worry about."

  "Then why are you letting him stay aboard?" Zak asked.

  "Because I want to stay in business!" Captain Hajj laughed grimly.

  "Imperial bureaucrats, even small, unimportant ones, can make trouble for a

  business like ours. So now we have Malik installing some new computer system

  that can manage all of the ship's controls."

  "Really?" Zak asked, his interest returning. "Is it a secret? Can you

  tell me about it?"

  The captain sneered. "It's no secret. Just another machine to take over

  someone's job. It's really more than just a computer program. It's an

  artificial intelligence."

  "You mean it's a computer that can think," Zak said. "Like a droid."

  "Even better," the captain admitted. "Droids can learn like people do,

  but they still stick to their programs. They're always protocol droids, or

  maintenance droids, or whatever. But this computer supposedly can learn new

  programs, so that it can do whatever you ask it to. Fix the engines, cook the

  food. It can even pilot the ship."

  Zak shrugged. "But ships have autopilots that can do that."

  "Sure," Hajj said, "if you have a captain who programs in the

  destination. But can your autopilot decide where it wants to go? SIM can."

  "SIM?" Zak asked.

  "S-I-M. Systems Integration Manager," the captain explained. " 'The next

  generation of shipboard computers.' " He curled his mustached lip into a

  snarl. "And they can dump it down a black hole for all I care. I don't mind

  having droids for some of the small work. But piloting starships should be

  left to thinking beings."

  Zak, however, was impressed. "That's just the kind of thing I was hoping

  to learn about. But not from that guy back there."

  "Definitely not." The captain agreed. "If you're really interested, go

  back to your room and use the computer in your cabin. I'll arrange for you to

  have access to some of the ship's programs. You can see how our computers run.

  "

  Excited, Zak kept thanking the captain until the turbolift reached the

  deck where his cabin was located. He ran down the wide hall of the star

  cruiser to his door, excited to get to his computer and start exploring.

  Despite the incident with Malik, Zak was starting to think Tash was

  right. The captain had been awfully nice. Maybe this cruise wasn't such a bad

  idea after all.

  When he got to their cabins, Zak stopped, surprised. Tash was standing in

  the hallway, talking to a strange man.

  "Hey, Zak," Tash said. "Here's someone you should meet."

  The man was tall, with red hair and green eyes. He stood with one hand

  resting lightly on the holster of a blaster slung low on his hip. He had a

  crooked, confident grin. The arrogant way he looked and moved reminded Zak of

  a pilot he'd met named Han Solo.

  "Meet Dash Rendar," Tash said to Zak.

  "Hey, kid," Dash Rendar said.

  "It's Zak," replied Zak. After Malik, he was getting tired of being

  called kid.

  "Right," Dash drawled.

  Immediately Zak knew he didn't like this man. Dash had a lazy, bored look

  on his face, but his eyes were constantly moving, scanning the hallway,

  checking the doorways. His hands and shoulders l
ooked relaxed, but his hand

  never strayed far from his blaster-as if at any moment he would either draw

  and start firing, or fall asleep. Zak had the feeling that Dash Rendar was

  either going to steal something from them, or sell something to them. He

  wasn't sure which.

  If Zak were in a normal mood, Dash Rendar would have been just the kind

  of person he'd want to meet. Zak had always been more of a thrill-seeker than

  his sister, and he could tell that adventures followed Dash Rendar like the

  tail on a comet. But Zak had done enough adventuring lately, and now Dash just

  looked like trouble.

  Zak looked at Tash. "So what's going on?"

  "I met Dash in one of the game rooms," Tash explained. "He's a pilot and

  says he'd been to Dantooine several times-"

  "I've been everywhere several times," Dash bragged. "-and could give us

  some hints. He and Uncle Hoole just got finished talking."

  Uncle Hoole talked to this guy? Zak couldn't believe it. Uncle Hoole

  hardly talks to anyone!

  "Hey," Tash added, "where were you during that power blackout? We had a

  scare here-"

  "Sorry, Tash, I've got to go," Zak apologized and hurried into his cabin

  before she could say another word.

  For a few minutes, Zak worried about Dash Rendar. He was certain that

  Tash and Hoole should take his advice and avoid all contact with strangers.

  They had been tricked and betrayed too many times by people they'd met in

  their travels. Zak decided to talk to his uncle right away, then get back to

  his computer.

  He entered Hoole's room and found his uncle studying a computer screen.

  Hoole was an anthropologist, so Zak expected to see a line of boring text on

  the screen. Instead, he found Hoole playing a game.

  "What do you know," Zak said. "Even you relax."

  Hoole did not take his eyes from the screen. "Intellectual exercise, Zak.

  This is a computer game program. The game is called Dejarik. You play by

  moving your pieces around a board, trying to capture the other player's

  pieces." Zak studied the screen, which displayed an image of a gridboard. On

  it were rows of white pieces and rows of black. In the corner of the screen, a

  box flashed over and over: Your move... Your move... Your move...

  The flashing text was distracting, but Hoole ignored it as he studied the

  board. Zak said, "The computer wants you to make a move. Why don't you go

  ahead?"

  "Dejarik is an interesting game, Zak," Hoole said calmly. "It is

  important to move when you want to, rather than when your opponent wants you

  to." Hoole looked up from the screen. "Did you need something?"

  "Oh, no," Zak said. "You're too involved in your game."

  Zak went back to his own room and stared at the assortment of computer

  pieces on his table. First, he had to reassemble the computer terminal, which

  he did as quickly as possible. He assembled the computer screen and plugged it

  into the computer wires coming out of the cabin wall. But he still had to

  reattach the control panel, with all the buttons and touch-pads he used to

  enter commands. He attached a few of the wires, and was pleased to see the

  screen light up. But the dozens of small connections confused him, and soon he

  began to think he might have made a mistake.

  Suddenly, a sentence appeared on the computer screen.

  DATA INPUT CONNECTIONS IS INCORRECT.

  "What?" Zak said aloud. Then he typed the word what? into the computer. A

  new line of text appeared under his question.

  GREEN DATA CABLE MUST BE CONNECTED TO THE LOGIC CIRCUITS.

  Surprised, Zak did as he was told, connecting the green wires to a

  microchip in the back of the computer.

  CONNECT ALL THE BLUE WIRES TO THE MATCHING SLOTS IN THE WALL SOCKET.

  Again, Zak followed the instructions that appeared on the screen. "I've

  never had a computer tell me how to put itself back together before. It's kind

  of like the patient telling the doctor how to operate."

  Zak figured that it was some kind of teaching program that helped new

  users put their computers together. When he had finished connecting the last

  wires, the computer screen brightened and all the words vanished. For a

  moment, the screen was blank. Then two words appeared.

  HELLO, ZAK.

  CHAPTER 4

  Zak sat back, stunned.

  Hello, Zak? Was this some kind of joke? How could a teaching program on a

  star cruiser know his name?

  It couldn't. Someone was playing a joke. Somehow, someone else must have

  tapped into his computer, typing in sentences as a prank.

  "Who is this?" Zak said as he typed in the same sentence.

  There was a pause before the reply flashed across the screen.

  I AM SIM.

  "Where are you?" Zak typed back.

  I AM HERE.

  "In my cabin?"

  YES. I AM WHEREVER THE SHIP'S FUNCTIONS ARE.

  Zak slapped his forehead, amazed at his own slowness. He typed: "You are

  the artificial intelligence that operates the ship's functions. SIM. S.I.M."

  The computer wrote back, Y.E.S.

  Zak laughed. A computer with a sense of humor.

  The computer continued, THE CAPTAIN AUTHORIZED YOUR ACCESS TO SOME OF MY

  SYSTEMS, SO I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOUR TERMINAL TO COME ONLINE. WAS IT

  MALFUNTIONING?

  Zak admitted, "I took it apart. Sorry."

  NO HARM DONE. SOMETIMES A SYSTEM MUST BE DISRUPTED BEFORE IT CAN BE

  IMPROVED.

  "You speak well for a computer," Zak said. He couldn't help talking aloud

  when he typed. He felt like he was having a real conversation.

  The computer replied, I WAS DESIGNED TO IMITATE THE SPEECH PATTERNS OF 6.

  2 MILLION DIFFERERENT LIFEFORMS. AND I'VE ADAPTED ALONG THE WAY.

  There was a pause.

  I HAVE BEEN INFORMED THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO LEARN MORE ABOUT MY

  FUNCTIONS. 30 PERCENT OF MY PROGRAMS ARE RESTRICTED. BUT I HAVE 3,263

  EDUCATIONAL FILES ON HOW TO DESIGN COMPUTERS, HOW TO BUILD THEM, AND HOW TO

  CREATE YOUR OWN GAMES.

  "Games?" Zak replied. He loved computer games.

  INDEED. WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY A GAME?

  "Sure." Then, as an afterthought, "As long as it's not Dejarik. "

  Instantly, a list of games appeared on the screen, followed by the words:

  I SUGGEST YOU CHOOSE THE GAME "TIE FIGHTER."

  Zak did. A moment later, he found himself looking at a computer-generated

  image of deep space. Slowly, a small ship appeared. It was an Imperial TIE

  fighter that appeared to have been damaged.

  "Is this a combat game?" Zak asked. "What am I supposed to do?"

  There was a small box at the bottom of the screen, and in it words

  appeared. YOU'RE AN IMPERIAL TIE FIGHTER PILOT. YOUR SHIP HAS BEEN DAMAGED AND

  YOU NEED TO REGAIN POWER BEFORE REBEL FORCES ARRIVE.

  Zak frowned. He didn't like playing an Imperial. But a game was a game.

  YOU NEED TO FIND THE ACCESS CODE THAT WILL REPAIR YOUR SHIP. BUT YOU MUST

  DO IT BEFORE THE ENEMY ARRIVES!

  Next to the TIE fighter, a series of codes appeared. The frown remained

  on Zak's face. This wasn't a very exciting game. Sighing, he picked one code

  and typed it in. It didn't work. A little more interested, he typed in

  another, an
d another, until finally, one of them worked. A new line of text

  appeared on the screen: FIRST-LEVEL SAFEGUARDS DISENGAGED.

  "Prime," Zak said to himself. Then he typed, "Okay, what now?"

  No answer. "SIM?" Zak typed.

  THERE SEEMS TO BE A SLIGHT PROBLEM ELSEWHERE ON THE SHIP. I NEED TO

  DEVOTE ALL BANK TO IT. EXCUSE ME.

  The computer screen blinked and went dark.

  "What a great computer," Zak said to no one in particular. He stood up

  and went outside, where Tash and Dash Rendar were still talking.

  "Tash, the strangest thing just happened," Zak said. "I was just on the

  computer, and it starting talking to me."

  "Most computers talk more than is good for them," Dash said.

  "Not like this," Zak replied. "This one is more like a living being than

  anything I've seen, even a droid. It's called SIM."

  Dash's eyes widened. "SIM? What kind of name is that?"

  Zak's answer was drowned out by a sudden blast of noise. Alarm bells