by Chris Hechtl
“Thinking of Bek?”
“Yes.”
“There isn't much hope that they kept a space industry going Admiral. If they have no trade with outside systems and no need for heavy industry... if they were forced back to subsistence living with the loss of modern tech brought on by the lock outs...”
“Yeah,” Irons sighed. He didn't like the implications there. Not one bit.
“But, focusing on the positives, Bek has that yard, if it still exists. Plus, it had, or should I say had, a decent asteroid belt, but not a dense one like Antigua or Pyrax. Of course Pyrax was partially artificial, from the destruction of the planet Eden.”
“True.”
“Other systems are like that as well though.”
“True.”
“So what do we do?”
“For now, not a whole hell of a lot, we're still getting to Beta 101a1 after all. We don't have any intel to go on off of either.”
“True. And if the planet had been hit with a Xeno bomb?”
“Then there is no reason to linger,” Irons replied. “Except to refuel and take on whatever we can... if it is worth it.”
“Which it won't be. The threat of contamination...”
“It is yes an issue, but we don't know anything for certain. In fact, all we have is an absence of information. So, we need to plan for what we might find.”
“I'm more worried about politicians. They see us showing up, riding our great white charger in, expecting to take over...”
The Admiral rubbed his brow. “Yeah, Antigua and Pyrax all over again. Thanks.”
“All part of the job sir,” Sprite replied.
Chapter 4
A month before break out he'd found another hobby. He tinkered with the powered combat suit and gear Sprite had picked up for him in Antigua and on Epsilon. He sat on the stool, examining the right shoulder with expert engineering eyes. Up until now he hadn't bothered with it, but now he needed a hobby. Running the helm was getting to him, he needed the distraction to release the pent up tension of sitting at the station for hours on end. He was starting to see plotting in his sleep. Something he hadn't had to experience since he'd been a shave tail Lieutenant.
He welcomed the distraction on one level, not that he really needed the suit. Sure it was nice to have, but he could go Ironman or bare if needed. He had done that on Antigua Prime, using his skin suit and bits of armor and even components from his shuttle as an improvised armor when he went on a rampage to get to the command center of the station.
He shook that memory away. It was one of the rare times he had truly lost perspective, and let his anger rule him. It had felt good to get his mad out, even if it had undermined his image in the eyes of the cybers. Still, it had cut to the heart of the problem, and it had put a healthy dose of fear and respect in some eyes. He returned his attention to the suit.
Ironman had worked in a pinch, but having a fully operational suit on hand when you needed it did have its advantages as well. He was tempted to just throw the pieces into a replicator and use them as material for a new suit, but he just didn't have the spare power. Besides, it was fun tinkering with an ancient design. There was something to be said about restoring a classic.
The suit was ancient, an old militia suit a thousand years old that had seen better days. It was more shell then functional suit. Some of it was beyond his current resources to fix. He worked with Proteus to use his nanites to as much repairs as possible.
He frowned at the persistent scratching sound at the hatch. The two waifs were a pain; they were kids, constantly looking to get into mischief. He didn't need them chewing on the wiring and hydraulics. Nor did he need them licking up the hydraulic fluids. He didn't need them to have kidney or liver failure.
His enhanced hearing could hear the piteous chirrups of the cubs begging to be let out. “Go to sleep you two!” he growled, shaking his head as his hands moved with metric precision to put the actuator back together.
“Persistent I'll give them that,” Sprite chuckled.
“Tell me about it,” he sighed. Proteus finished with his hands and then deployed micromanipulators from his fingers to adjust the fitting with finicky precision. Getting the actuator just right in its housing was a pain in the posterior. It took nanometric precision to get it just right, usually under a scope. A quick and dirty millimeter position would work in the field for a while, but he wanted this thing to be as smooth as glass. Which was why he was letting the AI handle the precision. Bored he was, nutty enough to try this on his own he wasn't.
“Going to go to bed soon?” Sprite asked.
“Eventually,” Irons replied. “Though with those two about I doubt it.”
“They'll settle down,” Sprite said with twinkle. He didn't mind the cuddling; he'd adjusted to that. But the in your face begging for attention sometimes got a grumpy response in return.
Sprite had learned how much fun it was to play phantom to the cubs. She'd led them on a merry chase around the ship, much to the Admiral's amusement. She had enjoyed morphing herself small and then running around. It kept the cubs on their toes, making them work out. Their hysterical antics to catch her hologram usually wore them out quite well. Lately though they were getting wise to her, either ignoring her presence or playing for only a brief time. He got a charge out of their seemingly indifference to her presence, than the turn and wiggle when she supposedly wasn't looking so they could pounce. The widening eyes were just comical to behold. As was the surprise when they flew through her hologram and skittered out the other side.
Irons straightened and rubbed the small of his back as Proteus finished. “You could always sleep standing up,” Sprite suggested.
“Pass,” Irons said, glancing her way. “We're almost finished anyway.”
“Boys and their toys,” The AI sighed with an air of amused exasperation. Irons glanced at her again, knowing that exasperation was feigned. “I know I know, go bother someone else,” she said before he could say anything.
He sniffed as she blinked out and then returned to the reassembly of the shoulder joint.
<----*----*----*---->
Sprite and Phoenix had spun off specialized computer systems, software, and robots to fill in various jobs on the ship when they had left Antigua. Most weren't critical positions, but each took some of the workload off them and their organic Commander. The AI compiled a bug log and worked on refining the software. There were nightly patches for some time. But they also created new software, which turned buggy. The Admiral wondered if they deliberately left the bugs in to give them something to work on.
Some of their projects were copies of software they had created in the ship's inaugural voyage to Epsilon, just adapted to new roles. Some were tweaks and patched improvements, building off the lessons they had learned, and the bug reports that were generated.
One of their projects was a dumb AI to help with the ship's helm. That allowed the ship's AI to focus on the larger picture or on individual stations if necessary. Unfortunately the dumb AI was a bit buggy, for instance it wasn't interested in surfing the slipstream and picking up the greatest pockets of energy for the hyper collectors. It also preferred to chart a straight-line course and only make corrections when it came to an obstacle. Reluctantly they shut the bot down after it tried to go through a large gravitational tangle.
“Not enough training. Sims. It needs a lot of Sims to get sorted out. Learning,” the Admiral said. An AI needed time to settle into its role, time and practice. Experience in other words, time to shake down. For a computer system that meant simulations normally, thousands of simulations performed to train the AI's thought modules and neural net into what was acceptable, and what wasn't. Trying to get it to work in a real world situation while skimping on the step was a disaster waiting to happen.
“I know,” Sprite sighed. She had pointed it out to the Admiral but he had insisted on just trying it.
Phoenix nodded. “It takes time to train new crew Commander. You tri
ed. Thank you. We'll work it out.”
Time and training you said and you were right.” Irons frowned. He felt like they were giving up to easily. He would never do that with an organic, with a person you could reason with them. But a person could be reasoned with. A person had a vested interest in listening; after all, their own personal survival depended on getting it right. He shook his head. If the AI wanted to move on... fine.
“Yes sir.”
Irons mulled over situation. He wasn't certain about what had just happened. Sim time was indeed a factor, but not the only one here. Sprite was still having the occasional issue, but she seemed to have risen over the trauma she had experienced at the hands of Defender when they had been at Antigua. She certainly hadn't exhibited any signs of distress or instability while they had been on Epsilon at any rate, nor during their transit out!
He frowned. She had taken issue with making AI that were servants or purpose built. That... might be the issue, he thought, slowly looking up. It might be something in her sub consciousness, her inherent dislike for such things. She had expressed it more vocally over the past few years. She hadn't had any issue with making Phoenix though.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Sprite asked quietly.
“Always on my mind?” the Admiral asked, turning his attention to the engineering stats. The bottle was stable there were no disharmonics.
“Or trying to read it you mean?” Sprite asked. “I can't quite do that, but I can tell when you are thinking deep thoughts, and I can tell when you are thinking in a certain direction. Which is pointed at me in this instance.”
“I'm... not sure,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sometimes it's a pain in the ass being tied together like this.”
“I don't think the creators of our little family thought it through this far. Or they thought it wouldn't be an issue, after all, at the time of conception we could always migrate one or all of you out as needed.” He frowned. “Or they also thought we'd have expert psych help to deal with conflicts or issues," he added.
Sprite was quiet a moment. “I didn't know there was an issue.”
“Commander, I don't know if there was one. But I thought of several possibilities and wasn't certain what to do about them. If they are even true to begin with.”
“Oh? Hypothesis?”
“No, questions. Possible solutions.” His frown deepened. Finally he shrugged. He might as well get it out into the open. “I was wondering about the bot. The software was buggy, and you aren't known for making buggy software. You and Proteus have done fine with Phoenix, and Phoenix is quite a bit more sophisticated than this thing was.”
“True,” Phoenix interjected. “And I'm glad I'm not buggy.”
“If you could even tell if you were.”
“Which I can. You did add a self-diagnostic feature. I have been doing a postmortem of the bot; it lacked initiative and interest in its assigned task. It was a dumb bot true, but when you task something that sophisticated to something so well, stupid, it doesn't care if things worked or not.”
“I see. A coding issue?”
“Perhaps. Coding conflict definitely.”
“No behavioral module?”
“Or personality. No interest in other words.”
“You don't need to have interest to do a task. A menial task or a complex task it needs to be done a certain way.”
“True.”
“Could it be a... mental block?” Irons asked, eying Sprite's avatar.
Sprite seemed to squirm. Finally she straightened her shoulders. “It is possible.”
“A block brought on when?”
“Sprite has expressed negative views on creating additional AI. Specifically purpose built AI.”
Phoenix turned to his mother AI. “And what about me?”
“I'm not certain. You we had to have, we needed to get out of Antigua, and we needed to lessen the work load.”
“So, I'm a convenience.”
“No, I think, damn it, not you too! Forget I asked,” Irons growled, throwing his hands up in the air. The last thing he needed was a snippy AI, let alone two of them. They had to get along it was a long flight.
“We're getting a touch of cabin fever here,” Phoenix said, voice cooling slightly. “I'll just go check on my port nodes.”
“Roger that,” Irons said.
“I'll go read your report Phoenix. Maybe there is something to learn from that,” Sprite said quietly. She didn't meet the Admiral's eyes as she winked out.
The Admiral sighed softly and turned his attention to the engineering station once more. He looked it over then returned to the flight controls. A long flight indeed he thought, adjusting their course to remain between the markers.
<----*----*----*---->
Irons studied the report of their transition. He was tired, on edge from too much caffeine and too little sleep. This was the ticklish bit, the transition down from the higher octaves as they neared their exit point.
“Still regretting not having enough crew Admiral?” Sprite asked, coming awake. Smart AI like Sprite needed downtime, sleep to function. They used it much like organics, to let their minds process the data and experiences they had received during their up time and organize it into a coherent form for later review. The longer they took between sleep periods the more unstable they became.
Sprite was stable now; she had spent quite a bit of downtime during their journey to Epsilon in sleep, processing the damage that had been inflicted on her. They say that time heals all wounds. Healing was a bit more complex with an AI, but the time to think about what she had lost and also gained had helped somewhat.
“No, now that you are online, I can catch a break,” the Admiral said, rolling his shoulders. His body was maintained by his nanites, but he still needed fuel for his organics, downtime, and electrical power.
Proteus also needed downtime. It needed him to relax so it could work through a list of things, repair anything that needed to be repaired, as well as replenish his reserves of nanites if necessary. The AI could use his sitting in the helm couch as a partial fix, but it wasn't quite enough. It too needed some downtime.
“I was referring to an organic.”
“I was referring to another AI,” Irons retorted. “Funny how we're going at cross purposes here.”
“Not everything can be solved with another bot Admiral,” Sprite said, sounding annoyed.
“Funny for an AI to say that,” Irons replied, smiling slightly.
“Touché',” the AI replied, eyes flashing. She flicked her green hair. She had taken to wear her dress whites instead of a day uniform when on duty. He wasn't sure why, and wasn't going to ask. He hadn't set up a day uniform schedule; he wasn't that anal about details if he didn't need to be.
“Why are you bringing this up?” he asked. He had been kicking himself again for not dragging someone else along, but that was human nature, to grumble at one's self for making a mistake. It was one way they made certain they didn't do it again. When that thought formed he frowned.
“We've been talking about this several times for a reason and not just because I have been kicking myself. I know you have too.”
“True. But sometimes you need the reminder Admiral,” Sprite said.
“Or a swift kick in the posterior to remember next time?”
“Sometimes that is how resolve is formed.”
“And now you're saying I've been giving in too easily.”
Sprite spread her hands. “Far be it from me to point out the obvious Admiral.”
“You've been exasperated with me?”
“I have... come to a lively appreciation of your plan. It's... well, you did say there is a method to your madness. I can see peeks of sanity and of your long term goals and plan but getting there...” she shook her head.
“But, you just reminded me, and I keep reminding myself Commander, there is no going back, just forward. So the question is, where do we go from here?”
“Definitely
no going back, we lack the fuel.”
“True.” Irons frowned, checking the readings. He didn't like what he saw either, but it was within ten percent of what they had projected.
“There is no going back. Or there is, it depends on where you go back to? And what you take with you? A new resolve?”
“I'll think about it Commander.”
“Thank you Admiral,” Sprite said softly. “Like you said, we need to keep our options open. Putting Bek on a pedestal and risking everything on it...” She shook her head.
“Right. But again, we're committed now. At least for the time being until we're in Beta 101a1 space.”
“True Admiral.” Sprite checked her station. “I can spell you for the time being Admiral,” she said. At least she didn't sound so cautious. She had found she could handle the task for brief periods of time before it became tedious.
“Thanks,” he said, getting up and stretching. He rubbed the small of his back.
“Don't mention it. Except in my service records.”
“Bucking for promotion?” Irons asked, amused. He looked at her avatar. She had grown up a lot over the past few years. She had gone through several builds. She had been burned in Antigua, but seemed fully recovered. He wasn't going to bring it up if she wasn't.
She pursed virtual lips and then shrugged. He shook his head. “Well, will wonders never cease,” he murmured, leaving the bridge.
<----*----*----*---->
“We're shooting for the Hidoshi's World jump zone?” Phoenix asked.
“Still on target,” Irons said, checking the scope. It would be easy to overshoot they were flying almost blind. Flying on instinct, something spacers hated to do.
He'd liked the idea because it would add to his legend, but there was a big difference from building on the legend and living it. He was putting his neck on the line here, and a lot more was riding on this roll of the dice besides that a hell of a lot more.
Ships didn't have to exit at a jump point. They could go wide, or short, or long. Too long and you could end up in the inner system and add stress to your hyperdrive the closer you got to an object of significant mass. Exiting near such mass tended to do bad things to a ship, like oh, loose containment on the hyperdrive.