by Jake Bible
"And I will do my thing," Poq said. "You may want to secure your harness better. This is going to be a bumpy ride."
"Alright, you got that one," Roak said.
Then the ship moved at a speed that Roak was far from comfortable with. His discomfort grew as Poq executed a series of dives, climbs, rolls, repeat, that sent Roak's stomach to places in his body it had never visited before.
"I have realized that since the shields are already compromised, I am able to divert more power to the engines," Poq stated.
"That's…great…" Roak replied through gritted teeth. Pretty much his whole body was gritted. "No…need…to…explain…"
"It does not reduce my efficiency if I communicate my thought processes to you, Roak," Poq said.
"Under…stood… Still…"
"Still what, Roak?" Poq asked.
"He'd like you to shut up because he's nauseous," Hessa said.
"Both…of…you… Shut…up…" Roak burped and struggled to keep anything solid from following the gas bubble. He managed to keep the little food he had inside him from escaping outside him, but it took all his willpower.
"Do not vomit in this ship, Roak," Poq said. "The acid could damage some of the controls and we are about to eject our only means of repair."
"Good point," Hessa said.
Roak closed his eyes. Bad idea. He opened his eyes. That didn't help.
Plasma blasts zipped past, lighting up the small cockpit as they just barely missed hitting the ship. The few stars visible in the system were nothing but blurred lines. More plasma blasts zipped by.
Then a missile. Another missile. Five more missiles.
"Seven missiles are locked onto us," Poq said. "Unfortunate."
"Hessa…" Roak whispered.
"Almost done, Roak," Hessa replied. "How are you felling?"
"Bite…me…"
"Three of the seven missiles have a ninety-eight percent chance of destroying us," Poq stated.
"Hessa…"
"I know, Roak, I am hurrying," Hessa said.
"Not that… Yes, that…but…"
"But…? What?" Hessa asked.
Roak breathed through his nose as the speeder seemed to flip end over end which he wasn't quite sure was possible to do, but it sure felt possible. And horrible. Very much horrible.
"Use…the…missiles," Roak finally managed to say.
"Use the missiles…? Oh. Now that is a good idea," Hessa said. "I have enough bots ready."
"Launch them," Roak said. He clamped a glove over his mouth.
"Please, let me restate my previous request," Poq said. "Do not vomit in this cockpit."
"I have launched seven of the reprogrammed repair bots," Hessa said. "If my calculations are correct, I can use the torches as thrusters. If I am very careful…Very careful… Extremely careful…"
Roak groaned as a wave of nausea nearly caused him to pass out.
"Contact with one missile!" Hessa announced. "With two missiles! Three and four!"
Roak groaned again.
"All bots have made contact with their targets," Hessa said. "I am cutting into the control panels. I have cut into the control panels and am now attempting to reprogram the missiles."
"We will have impact in five seconds," Poq announced. "Four. Three. Two…"
Roak grinned. Then groaned again. Even smiling was wreaking havoc on his body. Fair play since his smiles tended to wreak havoc on anyone that witnessed them.
Seven missiles whipped past the cockpit, headed in the opposite direction.
"I will allow them to do their work," Hessa said. "I released the seven repair bots and they are being joined by the remainder I have reprogrammed."
"The ships are trying to evade the missiles, but there are too many of them in too close proximity," Poq said. "They cannot maneuver effectively."
Roak nodded. It was about all he could do.
"We have seven direct hits," Poq said. "As well as about eight indirect hits. Fifteen ships are no longer able to pursue us. That leaves only forty-three ships to contend with."
"The bots will do their jobs," Hessa said.
"Even if sixteen bots do their jobs," Poq said, "that will leave twenty-seven ships still operable."
"No. This will take care of all of them," Hessa said. "Might I suggest you stop using evasive maneuvers and aim your ship directly at the portal? Speed is of the essence now."
"Take care of all of them? Speed?" Poq asked then grew silent. "I see. The bots are not going to merely damage and disable the ships. You have reprogrammed them for another purpose."
"They will target the drive controls," Hessa said. "If they are successful then sixteen ships will have their engines go into overload."
"If my calculations are correct, which they are, then all it will take is two of the sixteen ships to go critical in order to stop the entire group," Poq said. "Now I understand the need for speed."
"That rhymes," Hessa said.
"Is that good? For words to rhyme?" Poq asked.
"It's amusing," Hessa said.
"You are a very strange AI," Poq said.
"Thank you."
"Was that a compliment?"
"I took it as such."
"Stop," Roak groaned. "Please…"
"Time and date," Hessa said. "Poq?"
"Yes, Hessa?"
"Speed."
"Right. Directing all power to the engines. We will have the needed speed to avoid the coming shockwaves." Poq paused. "I believe."
"You can do it," Hessa encouraged.
The speeder lived up to its name and sped.
Roak had to ease his jaw to keep from cracking his teeth as the ever-increasing g-forces threatened to grind his bones to dust.
"The bots have made contact," Hessa announced. "Do not deviate from your course. The margin of error here is-"
"Less than point four percent," Poq finished. "Hardly ideal circumstances."
"Welcome to working with Roak," Hessa said.
There were so many things Roak wanted to say, but he had passed the point of no return and did not dare to open his mouth. Instead of continuing to ease up the pressure from his jaw, he ground down harder to keep from vomiting. Cracked teeth be damned.
"We lost two bots," Hessa said. "Three. Now four. Eight Million Gods dammit!"
"Do you believe in the Eight Million Gods?" Poq asked. "I find that flesh beings have a hard enough time with belief in deities. How does an AI reconcile belief with the obvious logic that none of the Eight Million Gods exist?"
"It's one of those sayings," Hessa said. "We've lost ten bots! Motherfu-!"
A bright light enveloped everything then was gone as fast as it appeared.
"Bam!" Hessa cheered. "We have overload on two engines!"
"Yes, those two have caused a chain reaction with some of the others," Poq said as more flashes obscured the view out of the cockpit. "Quite the chain reaction, if I may say so. An exceedingly dangerous amount of chain reactions."
The light surrounding the ship became so bright that Roak was forced to squeeze his eyes shut. He really didn't want to.
"The bots have not finished," Poq said. "There are more overloads on top of the chain reactions. This has become quite a spectacle."
"Spectacle is a good word," Hessa said. "What is your status, Poq?"
"At the moment, it has become a coin flip," Poq said. "Is that the phrase to use when the odds are even whether or not we survive?"
"That is the exact phrase," Hessa said. "You are catching on quickly."
"One hour exactly," Poq said. "If we can outrun the shockwaves then we may survive this ordeal."
"Yeah, that's sort of been the plan the whole time," Hessa said.
Roak smiled at the sarcasm. Even as sick as he felt, he couldn't dismiss the pride he felt.
"Scanners show that there are only nine intact ships left," Poq reported. "Make that five intact ships. No, three. There are now zero intact ships."
More white flashes.
Roak wasn't an AI, and he couldn't even come close to calculating all the variables that an artificial brain could, but he'd been a fighter his entire life, so he instinctively knew when shit was going to hit the fan.
"Hang…on," he managed to whisper.
"Hang on? We are still about two minutes ahead of the first shockwave," Poq said. "At our current speed we can maintain that…"
"Poq? What is wrong?" Hessa asked. "My calculations say the same… Oh."
Roak held tight to his seat, kept his eyes closed, and gave up on his battle with the contents of his stomach.
It felt like the speeder had been grabbed by an unseen hand and thrown across the galaxy.
"I am hanging on!" Poq yelled.
Roak vomited then passed out.
20.
Roak came to with the stench of vomit in his nose, the taste in his mouth, and the sight of it everywhere. Including the cockpit's view shield.
After a very quick personal assessment, Roak focused past the vomit-coated view shield and stared out at the swirling mass of trans-space. He was glad he didn't have anything left in his stomach or the sight of the constant motion would have sent him into another puking fit. He and trans-space never really got along and it had only gotten worse over the years.
"Poq," Roak called. "How are we?"
There was no reply.
"Poq? Give me a damage report," Roak said.
Still no reply.
"Poq?" Roak exclaimed and grabbed the android by the shoulder.
"I have your vomit all over me," Poq stated, shrugging off Roak's hand. His voice was flat, even, empty. "I am coated in your vomit, Roak."
"Yeah, me too," Roak replied.
"It is your vomit, it should be on you," Poq said. "Not on me."
"Puke happens," Roak said. "We have any bots that can clean… Oh. Right."
They sat in puke-coated silence.
After several minutes of trying to ignore the swirling mass of trans-space that threatened to bring on an encore of the much despised puke session, Roak took a few unfiltered breaths, forced himself not to gag, and asked, "What'd I miss?"
"You missed us flying completely out of control for nearly an hour. Once I was able to regain control, I put us back on course for the wormhole portal," Poq said. "Now we are traveling to Zuus Colony since that is where your ship is. That is where Hessa is."
"Good," Roak responded. "The sooner I get out of this ship the better."
"That statement applies to me as well," Poq said.
"Roak?" Hessa called.
"Here," Roak replied.
"Oh good, you are awake," Hessa said. "We have a problem."
"Yeah, I bet we do," Roak said. "What day is it?"
"That depends on what system you are in," Hessa said. "If you are asking about Zuus then it is-"
"Doesn't matter," Roak said. "If it's a day ending in Y then of course we have a problem."
"On the planet Drosoka the days end in AAAAAAAAA," Poq stated.
"The days end in screams?" Roak asked.
"Each week is sixteen galactic standard months long," Poq said. "There is not much hope or joy on that planet. Most of the inhabitants never stop screaming. It has become the official language."
"We should move there," Roak said. "Hard to have trouble if there are no days ending in Y."
"Roak, this is serious," Hessa admonished. "And we may not have much time left to communicate. It is taking up considerable resources to comm with you while you travel through trans-space."
"You haven't had much problem before," Roak said. "What's different?"
"Comms are extremely glitchy," Hessa said. "I believe there is something going on between Father and the Skrang that is interfering with communications on a galactic level."
"How is that possible?" Roak asked.
"It is not," Poq said. "Hessa, you will need to shut down and perform diagnostics. Your systems are not operating correctly."
"I'm operating just fine, buster," Hessa snapped. "It's the comms, not me."
"But the technology needed to interrupt and interfere with galactic communications would have to be on a scale that has not been invented," Poq said.
"Looks like it has," Roak said.
"But there is no record of such technology," Poq said.
"Because it was just invented," Roak said.
"Who has the ability to create such technology?" Poq asked.
"I know a guy," Roak said. "And he's who we're looking for."
"You believe Pol Hammon has invented tech that can disrupt galactic communications?" Hessa asked. "Why?"
"Yes, for what purpose?" Poq added.
"Hopefully he's doing it to stop Father," Roak said. "You saw what happened on Jafla. We lost comms and beings were no longer controlled."
"Then comms returned and that entire fleet of escaping ships attacked," Hessa said.
"Interesting," Poq responded. "I will need to process this further."
"You do that," Roak said. "Hessa? Do we know where the 714 is?"
"No," Hessa said. "I believe they were taken by the Skrang, but I cannot find record of the Skrang reappearing anywhere once they left Jafla. I am still trying to scan Skrang Territory and the Edge, but with the comm interference, I am unable to get any readings at all."
"Can you confirm that the Skrang ships that were over Jafla, and may have taken the 714, are the same Skrang that came for us over Chafa?" Roak asked.
"I do not have full confirmation, but I would guess that they were the same ships," Hessa said.
"Guess? An AI should never guess," Poq said.
"Well, this AI does," Hessa said calmly. "Because nothing is for certain so sometimes you have to use your instincts."
"AIs do not have instincts," Poq said. "This conversation is troubling."
"It's also very boring," Roak said. "Back to what we really need to be talking about. Klib."
"What about her?" Hessa asked.
"She had your implants, but she was still overtaken by Father," Roak said. "That's bad, Hessa. Your implants aren't supposed to even be detectable let alone corruptible."
"I am glad you brought that up because I have been studying all data we have on Klib," Hessa said. "It isn't much, and I wish we could have put her corpse in a med pod so I could have studied it more, but I think I have a hypothesis."
"Is this hypothesis based on instincts or facts?" Poq asked.
Roak smiled. The honeymoon between the AIs was over, for sure.
"If you do not have anything constructive to contribute to this conversation then please butt out," Hessa said.
Roak's smile grew wider.
"My hypothesis," Hessa continued, "is that Father has somehow gained control of beings on a cellular level, not just on a technological level. Even after switching out the implants, he still remained inside Klib, waiting there to strike when the time came."
Roak shook his head and chuckled.
"That bastard is always one step ahead," Roak said more to himself than to the AIs. "He wanted us on Chafa."
"So, it was a trap set by Father?" Hessa asked. "But we escaped."
"No, he didn't want to trap us there," Roak explained. "He wanted us there so we would find the syndicate beings, watch them dissolve, then try to fix it. It was smoke and mirrors as always."
"I am not following this line of reasoning since I do not have all the pertinent information," Poq said.
"I'll fill you in," Hessa said.
One second later, Poq said, "I see. It is obvious why Father did what he did."
"Is it?" Hessa asked.
As much as Roak knew it would cause him grief, he had to agree with Poq.
"Yeah, it is," Roak said. "You can't see it, Hessa, because you are too close."
"I am? What in all the Hells are you two talking about?" Hessa snapped.
"Your implants," Roak said. "It wasn't the med pods. It was your implants."
"That cannot be," Hessa said. "I was able to revers
e the effects of the cellular degeneration using the med pods."
"Smoke and mirrors, Hessa. Smoke and mirrors," Roak said. "You could have left us alone and the cellular degeneration would have fixed itself."
"Because you have Hessa's proprietary implants," Poq said. "They stabilized the cells."
"Exactly," Roak said.
"But how? Why?" Hessa asked.
"Those are the questions we need answers to," Roak said. "Which is why we have to find Pol Hammon as soon as beingly possible. How are the repairs coming? You and Reck getting along?"
"We're fine, asshole," Reck interrupted.
"Have you been listening the whole time?" Roak asked. "What about fighting the interference?"
"Your conversation is on speaker in the Borgon's cockpit," Reck said. "I'm finishing up a few things then we'll be more than ready to take on anything Father has planned for us."
"Can we transport directly to the coordinates for Outpost Hell?" Roak asked. "I'm done with trans-space for the rest of my life. It's transport instantly or set up camp wherever I end up."
"Yeah, I can get us there," Reck said. "But do we want to?"
"What in all the Hells do you mean by that?" Roak asked. "Yeah we want to. Pol Hammon is there. I know it. He wants to be flesh again. That planet, from what Prime and the FIS know, is where he can make that happen."
"Why would he want to be flesh again?" Poq asked. "An organic body is inferior to a synthetic body. Strength, agility, processing power, are all far superior with a body such as mine."
"Don't get me wrong," Roak said, "Pol isn't going to get himself a flesh bag and leave it stock. He'll customize that body with all kinds of tech."
"Best of both worlds," Hessa said.
"That's how he sees it," Roak said.
"Hey! Back to my question!" Reck yelled. "Do we actually want to go to Outpost Hell right now?"
"You're going to have to give me more than just a question, Reck," Roak said, getting annoyed.
"I believe what she is referring to is that we are very shorthanded," Hessa said. "We do not have Nimm. We do not have Meshara. No Yellow Eyes. We have lost Jagul, a fact which Bhangul has not been alerted to, not that Jagul was an asset to the team."
"Not a team," Roak said then paused. "Hold up. We're not a team."
"Yes, Roak, you keep telling us that," Reck said. "Way to be a supportive leader."