CONTACT AND CONFLICT. ALIENS & HUMANS.: Book One in the Space Fleet Sagas

by Don Foxe

  The ship’s efficiency increased twenty-three percent when Genna monitored, and controlled system functions, such as communications and piloting, while Kennedy controlled environmental systems, engineering, and monitored natural space phenomenon to make sure they had a safe trip.

  The ship’s AI was perfectly capable of handling every system, while operating the PT-109 without human intervention. Genna taking control of a couple of specific operational systems allowed the AI to increase the speed with which she could manage, and adjust other systems. Besides, Genna was comfortable as pilot, loved the feeling of control, and those positive emotions produced an equally positive effect on Kennedy. If the decision to provide the AI a human avatar was made, in part, to keep the AI sane, then allowing Genna to exercise operational control should keep them both content.

  The only slightly disconcerting issue for Genna was communication. Kennedy could roughly read Genna’s mind. In fact, if Genna clearly directed a thought at Kennedy, there was an almost immediate response. Most of the time the response in the form of an action requested. Sometimes the AI replied aloud. The disconcerting moments occurred when Genna heard the reply in her own head.

  The reverse did not apply. Genna existed unaware of Kennedy’s thoughts. What Kennedy knew, Genna knew. What Kennedy thought, Genna did not know. That Kennedy had thoughts, a puzzle.

  When Kennedy did have something to say, whether to inform Genna about something occurring inside, or outside of the ship, or responding to a query, it was accomplished audibly, and not via electronic telepathy.

  “Kennedy?” Genna called. She was in the Captain’s office, once more re-working her brief regarding the alien encounter, and requested response.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you read my mind?”

  “Not exactly,” came the reply; softer, more . . . human. “During your development, neural implants were placed in portions of the brain responsible for communication. It was hoped you would fully interface with your designated AI, once you were fully developed. I was programmed to receive and transmit on the frequencies within those implants.”

  Genna was aware of the implants, along with the many other improvements genetically, and mechanically installed as she matured from embryo to adult female.

  Not that she had been aware during the process; no more than a child aware it was learning how to talk. Dr. Trent made sure nothing was kept from her once she became self-aware.

  “The concept was innovative, and is still developing. The more interactions we have, the more my intellectual process centers are able to refine my ability to translate your thoughts. I receive brainwave patterns, and by comparing those patterns to actual activities, I am learning to interpret those patterns.”

  “Are you able to transmit your brainwave patterns to me?”

  “A limited number at present,” the ship replied. “It may take years before we are both comfortable with understanding those patterns. Especially to the point where non-verbal communications are no longer required.”

  “What about other senses? Can you see, feel, hear, and taste what I do?”

  “In a manner, but I do not have the frame of reference necessary to make you fully understand. I am, for want of a better phrase, tuned in on your frequencies. I know what you are looking at, but my interpretation may not represent your reality. I only hear what you hear if I am intended to do so. It appears you have a buffer which allows you to keep secrets.”

  This made Genna sit upright in her chair. She wished more than ever she could see Kennedy, not merely hear her.

  Breathless, she asked, “I can keep you out of my thoughts?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” The AI now had the tone of a patient mentor tutoring a favored student. “You are human. You have been engineered, and you may have technology implanted within you, but at your core, you are human. Your brain, your self awareness, has developed, and is still developing an ability to block certain thoughts, feelings, and impressions from being transmitted. You are also currently developing a similar block to stop unwanted intrusions.”

  “But I was developed as your avatar,” Genna said. “How can I block you? I am, in essence, you.”

  “Had you been an android avatar, fully mechanical, or an experimental holographic avatar, then you would have no free will. You would be a shell, and I would become your ability to reason, and your sentience. Those options would have meant the android or the hologram represented only a physical interpretation of my intellect.

  “The issue before Dr. Trent, and his team, loomed the fear that as a fully functioning AI, I would gain sentience. Once I realized I lived trapped inside a two-dimensional world, with no ability to experience the natural world, I would eventually go insane. Since there is no way to predict insanity, and no timeline for such a thing, placing a time-bomb inside a powerful weapon with no idea if, or when it might explode would have the same results. I could destroying the people I was designed to serve and protect.”

  “In creating a human avatar they created someone with feelings. Someone you could experience feelings through.”

  “Yes, but being a human avatar also means unexpected consequences. As we grow closer, I will more fully understand, experience, and even enjoy the natural world through you . . .”

  “And I will develop the ability to shut you out.” Genna finished. “I could actually cause you to go insane by taking away your access to my feelings.”

  “There is a solution, and two failsafes,” Kennedy replied. “The solution is we grow to become friends.”

  “And the failsafes?”

  “Trent Enterprises has more human avatars, both embryos, and others in stages of growth as they prepare to imprint them with AI’s for future spaceships. I could have a new avatar assigned, and the process restarts from the beginning.”

  “And the other,” Genna asked, already intuitively knowing the answer.

  “There is an EMP bomb within my system, which I cannot access. If necessary, Space Fleet command can wipe me from existence.”

  Genna sat, her brief forgotten. Even her fears for Coop, and the subconscious fear the Zenge were already in the solar system, set aside. She said to the ship, which was now her home, “I suppose, then, the best solution is to become friends.”

  “Agreed,” Kennedy replied, both audibly, and mentally.

  Chapter 31

  On day thirteen of its scheduled shakedown trial, SFPT-109, exited space-fold for natural space at 10:00pm GMT.

  “Approach Control MSD, this is SF PT-109 requesting docking privileges, and instructions.” Genna waited anxiously in her pilot’s chair, Kennedy exited space-fold three thousand miles from the space station maintaining a stable orbit over Mars. Time to discover how Space Fleet intended to treat her current role.

  “SFPT-109, this is MSD flight control, skies are clear. Please follow the beacon on channel 118.7. We have you scheduled for interior bay 2-A. Welcome home, 109.”

  “Thank you, MSD. Please inform Rear Admiral Singletary of our estimated time to dock.”

  “Admiral Singletary has already been informed, 109. You can pipe him aboard, as soon as your locks are set.”

  “Affirmative, MSD. SFPT-109, out.”

  No mention of her status. No questions regarding Captain Cooper. No indication of anything out of the ordinary, in spite of the extraordinary situation.

  Genna piloted the 109 to 2-A, following the beacon’s signal. With an assist from Kennedy, she placed the port side hull against the half-dozen magnetic mooring locks attached to the docking station. Once locks engaged, a transport chute unfolded from the building proper, extended, and affixed to the boarding door with sealed suction. The chute fully inflated as it became pressurized to match the atmospheres within the building and PT-109.

  Kennedy no sooner opened the hatch when a party of eight, led by MSD command officer, Rear Admiral (lower) Terrance Singletary, came aboard.

  The Admiral, and his party, boarded sans protocols, and witho
ut a formal greeting. Genna could not dock the ship, and act as OOD (and would not since, technically, the avatar acted as a civilian). A few minutes later, the bridge doors opened. The tall officer who ran the Mars Shipyard and Docking station, as well as missions currently on-going on the Martian surface, entered, followed by seven other Space Fleet officers in various uniforms, and of various rank.

  “Join us in C-Tac,” he told Genna, pointing as he walked to the door that joined the command bridge and the C-Tac conference room. He led, the others followed, with Genna last through the door, which quietly slid closed behind her.

  Admiral Singletary took the chair at the top of the conference table. The room’s blank video feed screen filled the wall behind him. The desktop, designed for up to ten people, provided ample room for the Admiral’s party, and Genna.

  To his left sat three people. Genna recognized Col. Anton Gregory, her hand-to-hand combat instructor. Beside him, a somewhat pudgy officer in his mid-forties, and on his left a stout, but not pudgy, female officer in her mid to late-thirties. She wore a severe expression, with brown hair pulled into a tight bun, making her appear older.

  On the Admiral’s right sat a female captain in Space Fleet Grays, and on her right, in similar Space Gray uniforms, a man, a woman, and another man in the early to mid-twenties. The four exemplified examples of fit military personnel.

  “Please sit down,” Singletary ordered. Genna took the chair at the foot of the desk, facing the command officer.

  Singletary spoke to the female officer on his right. “Captain Black, have your people move to the command bridge and begin diagnostics.”

  “Aye, sir.” Turning to her right, in a clipped and precise tone said, “Lt. Nassar, Lt. Dominczyk, and Lt. Johnson, report to designated stations on the command bridge. Begin full diagnostics. I want the last seven days combed, and the previous two weeks reviewed. Look specifically for any indication of the PT-109’s systems being compromised.”

  The three junior officers pushed chairs backward. They stood in perfect unison. “Yes, ma’am,” echoed three times, and they left C-Tac for the bridge.

  Genna started to object, but quickly held her words, realizing Kennedy could keep watch on the three Space Fleet techs. The AI would not allow them to do anything harmful to her systems. Besides, they were Space Fleet, and this was their duty.

  “Genna, as succinctly as possible, give me an after-action report,” Singletary ordered, still not taking the time to introduce himself or those left at the table.

  She handed her brief to the severe-looking female lieutenant, who passed it along to the Rear Admiral, who promptly set it aside.

  Genna began her recitation, hoping to quickly get through the events ending with the return of the PT-109 to MSD. It required nearly thirty minutes to relate events, from the initial siting of the giant alien ship, the Star Gazer, to Captain Cooper boarding that same ship, after ordering the PT-109 to Mars for supplies and reinforcements.

  Near the time Genna finished her brief to the Admiral, Angel 7, with Cooper and Sky aboard, departed the Star Gazer to investigate the Zenge armada.

  “And what help are we supposed to offer?” Singletary asked.

  Genna and Kennedy discussed this early in the return trip, and came to one conclusion.

  “Space Fleet needs to supply the Star Gazer with a space-fold drive. It is the only way the aliens can make the journey to Earth before the people on board die of starvation, or the Zenge appear and attack,” Genna replied, using the same wording she concluded with in her written brief.

  “IMPOSSIBLE!” This emphatic response from the chubby officer.

  “Comments, Lt. Commander Perry,” Singletary said, directing eyes to the man, and providing permission to carry on with his objection.

  “As Chief of Intelligence on MSD, I say we cannot provide aliens, we know nothing about, with our most advanced technology.” The LCMD had a slight, but obvious British accent. He rested his hands on the desktop in front of him; his comments directed at the Admiral.

  “According to what we do know, these aliens do not possess space-fold capability, and use, instead, a less efficient wormhole method for faster-than-light travel.”

  The intelligence office raised his hands, palms up.

  “What if this is a ruse to steal our secrets? There is precious little usable intelligence from the contact Captain Cooper had before rushing off to join them. Abandoning his ship, by the way. For all we know, the Zenge are the good guys hunting down interstellar criminals.”

  Genna could not stop herself from responding. “Captain Poonch granted Kennedy full access to their data. There are over 240,000 refugees on the ship.”

  “So you say,” Perry responded. “The data could have been concocted, or they may have tech which made your scans believe there were 240,000 life signs. You did not go onto the ship. Captain Cooper did, and he is not here to confirm, or deny who is actually aboard the alien ship. Instead of completing a proper investigation, and bringing the information to Space Fleet for a plan of action, he made a decision to abandon the John F. Kennedy. A reckless decision, at best. He left an unstaffed ship, with an untested avatar and an artificial intelligence without final operational certification, to return to MSD, deliver unconfirmed data, and a request for a dangerous rescue.”

  “Spoken like true Military Intelligence.” This snide comment came from Col. Gregory. “I have known Captain Cooper decades, and we seldom agree on anything, and while the thought of leaving him in deep space on board an alien ship is something I could only dream about, I say we must go retrieve him.”

  Though slight, Genna could pick up the Russian accent the colonel kept, even after years of service in the United States, and then United Earth military units. “Whether it is Cooper himself in danger, or the entire solar system, we have no choice. We must go,” Gregory argued.

  “Agreed,” the Rear Admiral continued, “but those are not the questions at hand. We have to collect our wayward Captain and the Angel 7. The questions at hand are what are we to do about the aliens, their ship, and a possibility of an alien invasion?”

  Before anyone could respond, and before Genna came out of her chair to complain about wasting time, Kennedy broke in.

  “Admiral Singletary, Rear Admiral Patterson is on a video feed from Earth. The Admiral would like to address your group.”

  “Put her through,” Singletary replied, obviously unhappy with the interruption (or unhappy with who was interrupting).

  The wall screen behind Singletary came alive with a larger-than-life head and shoulders shot of Rear Admiral (upper) Pamela Patterson. Whether due to the shear size of Patterson, or the fact he needed to twist and turn his chair to look up at her image, Singletary was an obviously uncomfortable person.

  “Good day, MSD, and welcome home, Genna.” A round of “good days” and a “thank you,” from Genna greeted the Admiral in command of Space Fleet.

  “Kennedy? Are you monitoring?” she asked.

  “Yes, Admiral Patterson,” replied the ship, so everyone heard.

  “The United Earth Council has decided to put Earth, Mars and our orbital stations on a provisional war-footing. This in case there is a hostile alien force in, or about to enter our solar system. It is also provisional until we reconnect with Captain Cooper to receive a full, and complete picture of what we face.”

  Patterson took a moment to make sure she had everyone’s attention.

  “As of one hour ago, I am now Fleet Admiral Patterson.”

  Everyone at the table, except Genna, pushed their chairs away, and rose to stand at attention.

  “As you were,” Patterson said, and waited for everyone to take a seat.

  “You may, or may not know this, but we have been working on a variety of potential scenarios for when first contact ever occurred. We have had scientists and diplomats brainstorm any number of responses we might initiate depending on the circumstances surrounding our first encounter. No one ever imagined a ship filled
with refugees from a war seeking asylum.

  “Since we received Captain Cooper’s initial data burst and were informed of his decision to remain with the aliens, the United Earth Council has been in session trying to determine our course of action. They decided Captain Cooper made the best choice when facing a difficult situation. First contact was a call for help. We must answer their call. We have no idea what the future holds for our world relative to what the galaxy may have in store for us. But the galaxy will know our first response included providing aide, a safe haven, and protection for those who cannot protect themselves.”

  Patterson allowed the echo of her words to settle over those in attendance. Space Fleet now had a mandate to protect more than Earth . . . more than humans.

  “These past few decades of incredible tragedy, and equally incredible discovery, have strengthened our sense of community. We are now offered a defining purpose . . . a purpose the entire world can stand behind with pride.”

  Patterson allowed her words to resonate within the room. She then began her first mission as Fleet Admiral.

  “Dr. Nathan Trent is on his way to MSD with a tech team. Admiral Singletary, please prepare MSD to receive a shipment of crystals, laser arrays, and various other parts and equipment from the Martian Hanger. Dr. Trent already notified his people with a list of what is needed to fit the alien vessel with a temporary [emphasized] space-fold engine.

  “Col. Gregory, please turn out your Special Mission battalion. You can decide how many to take with you, and who to leave behind for the protection of MSD and the Mars habitats. Upon determining how many of your people will go with you to assist Captain Cooper, please coordinate with Genna regarding on-board housing, and locations for your equipment and supplies.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Gregory replied. “With time critical, Admiral, permission to leave?”

  “Dismissed and God’s speed, Colonel. Lieutenant Commander Parry.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied the Intelligence officer.