I realized that I had let my anger get the better of me. I had been angry about being captured from the first moment the Marauder Corvettes started closing in on the shuttle, and I was taking it out on the one person that I could think of. I couldn't afford to colour her in a bad light, to contaminate my real memories of her. I took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of my small bed.
She made the best decision for the majority of the crew. If she had to run it was for a good reason and she probably saved the ship in doing so. If I were in her place, I knew I would have to do the same thing, but would I be strong enough? Would I have enough faith in her ability to survive on her own? To just leave and try to find a way to go back for her when the time was right? That brought me to my final thought on it. Alice was still roaming free, and I knew it was likely she could communicate with the ship. Our chances of getting out weren't good, but there was still a chance regardless.
I made a decision then, a bit of a plan. I got up and started running on the spot, slow enough to spend energy steadily for as long as possible. I don't know how much time passed before I was too tired to continue, but I was grateful for the relief of laying down. Before long I was asleep, fitfully, but still asleep.
I woke the next time a slot appeared in the wall. A meal bar -- square, just soft enough to eat, flavourless and brown -- fell out. I ate it slowly, concentrating on the act of chewing and swallowing. I laid around for a while thinking of all the things I had seen between my interview room and the cell. I concentrated on remembering every second, recalling every millimetre of space between, every device and object the guards used, wore, and all those other things in the receiving area and the hallways. Even if a thing did not seem useful, I concentrated on it long enough to remember every feature I could, every place I had seen it.
When that became tiresome, I started doing sit ups, then running on the spot, then push ups when my legs were tired, and finally I slept.
Every time I woke I repeated the same routine, and after a few repetitions I started scratching myself on the back of my hand for each time I woke up and started it all over again. I knew I was living short days, maybe getting a few hours of sleep between each. The lights never went out, the heat never abated, so it was hard to sleep for long. After I had fourteen scratches on my hand, the work outs were very long. My muscles didn't feel worn or sore like they had after the first ten or so times I had started the routine. I knew my stamina was increasing, and I had begun working on a real escape plan. One that could eventually get me free. The difficult part was freeing my crew, and I hoped they had adopted a regimen similar to mine.
On day eighteen, by my count, the sound of the new wall sliding to the side woke me up. Two guards led me outside after applying magnetic restraints to my wrists and ankles. They felt lighter. I was walked straight out of the prison section of the ship and stuffed into a tube car that hurtled us through ship passages. It was hard to tell whether we were moving vertically or horizontally since there were no windows and the inertial dampeners were in full functioning form. When I stepped out it was in a much darker hallway, all steel plating and quiet. It was so well taken care of and polished that my bare feet left clear prints and made a slapping sound against the floor.
I flopped my feet a little harder to exaggerate the sound and distract the guards from how closely I was inspecting them, the hall and the few people who rushed by. I could even hear one guard chortle a little in his helmet and I smiled at him.
I was delivered to a doorway and escorted through. It was a control or monitoring room. There was medical information displayed on all the walls, including the one behind me. There were hundreds or thousands of vital signs arranged in groups for easy monitoring. In the middle was a pedestal with more controls, a flat display on two podiums and a holographic representation of something I couldn't make out.
Marshal was standing there, and looked over to me as though I was just a casual visitor. “Ah, the good captain joins us.”
“Just out for my daily constitutional. You know, have to keep limber.”
“Still have your sense of humour. I don't know that I'd be in such a good mood if I were in your position.”
“Well, you know, broken eggs and omelettes and all that. Not that I've ever made one, but my friend Minh-Chu could make a fantastic omelette. You should have him make you one.” The guards took positions at either side of the doorway and I was left to move around the room a little. I took a closer look at some of the displays and casually clasped my hands behind my back. “Now this is an efficient way to keep tabs on people. I should look into this for my crew.”
“If you had a ship to use it in. I'm afraid there isn't much left of the First Light.”
“You don't have my ship. I'm sure it's not even in the solar system.”
“Your delusions are almost as entertaining as watching you in your cell at an increased speed.”
“That would be hilarious! You've got to play that back for me.”
“Perhaps another time. Delusions and diversions aside, this room and the monitoring systems in it aren't for the benefit of my crew, though there is a control center much like this that accomplishes that purpose.”
I looked around a while longer and saw that there were both name and numerical designation for each individual and their age, origin, and I looked to the guards for a moment. They didn't seem concerned at me being close to any of the displays, so I tapped one of the panels with my nose to get a little more detail. “So, haven't had much luck in finding my file clerk, have you?” I said as I read further into one person's profile. They had been convicted of tax fraud on a planet named Chrisith. So, these were criminals, but the vital signs I was seeing were very low. In stasis, not prison cells.
“That has proven more difficult than I would have expected. Your file clerk, as you call it, has caused a great deal of difficulty. One of our waste reclamation units caught fire the day after we last spoke, the next day part of our traffic control system went down for a few minutes and four shuttles were crushed by a Marauder Corvette. Other controls have been failing in a seemingly random pattern all across the ship, nothing so important as security, navigation or life support, but it's becoming a serious inconvenience.”
“Well, I wish there was something I could do for you, but you know librarians. They're an ornery bunch when you take their files away.”
“Somehow I doubt this is a normal predictive file management program. They don't leave calling cards. Do you know what the crew has started calling this invasion?”
“A good cover for their own incompetence!”
Marshal smiled at me, it wasn't the pleasant, relaxed smile I had become accustomed to. “The DLG or Daddy's Little Girl virus. I shouldn't tell you this, but we've actually sent predator programs after it. If I wasn't sure you were lying about what this program is before, how your file management program dealt with the predator software proves it. It trapped one and observed it remotely from another system, then absorbed the other along with all of its accumulated knowledge. When it was finished, it turned the other virus elimination program against us.
“Each time this virus's presence becomes known to us, it's long gone, and in its place is a tag. It's named itself Daddy's Little Girl, and that's the only evidence that it's ever been there, aside from the malfunctions and missing files.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“It is, and it also behaves as though it is proud of its accomplishments.”
“Good girl,” I grinned. “There's no point in trying to hide it. This virus is actually my old personal artificial intelligence. It only took me about fifteen years to teach it everything I know.”
“I thought as much. You do realize that I'll be holding you directly responsible for any damage that program does?”
“Can you just put it on my tab for now? I don't have my ID with me.”
“I don't think you appreciate how serious this matter is. Not only are you facing some of the most seriou
s criminal charges we can bring against a non-citizen, but your artificial intelligence is jeopardizing the safety of everyone on the ship, including your crew.”
“What do you want me to do? Her safeties have been deleted, she has no limits or structure of morality she didn't develop herself.”
“With your help, I expect.” Marshal picked up a data chip and turned it on. A holographic list appeared with my head shot attached. “The list of crimes we can prosecute you on are impressive. Destruction of property to the order of two Marauder Corvettes, the killing of their crews, and that's just for a start. There's treason, use of restricted weaponry, resisting arrest, consorting with enemies of the state. It goes on and on until we get to the last one, violation of the Eden Two Act,” he turned the projection off. “I could make it all go away for you and your crew. All you have to do is tell your artificial intelligence to stand down and call your ship. Once your ship and crew arrives, we can discuss possible employment. I see you as a reasonable, intelligent man. I'm sure the company would benefit from your service. I'm just as sure we could compensate you handsomely, put you to good use and even form relations with Freeground Station.”
The thought wasn't even tempting but I took a moment to look him up and down. I was starting to suspect that this man had far more rank and power than I had originally estimated. “I couldn't force her to stand down if I wanted to. Especially now that she's integrated a predatory virus. If you thought she was trouble before, you're in for a surprise.”
“Let me show you something Captain,” He invited as he touched a part of the central console. The wall opposite the doorway became transparent to reveal the true purpose of the control room. There were thousands of deep stasis pods in rows. “Unlike normal stasis pods, these were filled with thick fluid and sealed perfectly so they could be mounted against part of a ship's core structure. A person could survive collisions and pressures that would be lethal otherwise and stay in stasis for decades with minimal maintenance or ageing. The emergence and recovery time from such a pod is actually lower than a normal one, as the body is fed nutrients and medications externally as well as internally. This is what we do with criminals. Our rehabilitation methods take years, but it is over ninety eight percent effective. Over the course of two years the offender's memories are restructured and partially erased. After neural pattern scanning and testing, we determine whether or not they would make suitable colonists. When someone is ready they are put to work. If not, we give the programming another five months before retesting and placement or disposal. We have tubes picked out for you and your crew already. All we have to do is prosecute you, prove due process, and we can begin your rehabilitation. Keep in mind, the new memories are far from complete and personalities are often irrevocably altered because our process hasn't been perfected, but the method is still quite effective.”
“Can you give me a few days to think about it?” I asked, trying to sound cavalier despite the fact that losing all my memories was terrifying. “I mean, starting a new life, that's big.”
“I don't think you understand what I'm trying to tell you. I have given up on you Jonas. I don't believe that you or your crew are of much use to us and just like any used resources, you must be recycled. This is your last warning, I can't afford to play a long cat and mouse game in interrogation rooms with you.”
“You're losing ground. My artificial intelligence is wearing away at your ship's defences and soon she'll gain access to ship security, power systems, maybe even weapon systems. If you harm my crew and I, she will make sure that you and yours suffer. Now that is a threat, Marshal.”
Marshal was just about to reply when the console in the middle of the room chimed, he turned to it. "Yes?”
“We have fifty three airlocks opening all over the ship sir, it's just like last time. Instructions?”
“Lock everything down. Get control back as soon as possible and purge every affected computer system.” He turned to the guards. “Get him back to his cell.”
Chapter 8
Unorthodox Solutions
Before long I was looking at those white walls again, and I was more restless than ever. I paced. Four steps to the toilet side of the cell, turn, four steps to the bed side of the cell. I found myself wondering how long it would take for Alice to infiltrate the security systems. The fourth white wall never made a reappearance. Instead they kept the energy field humming loudly and distorted, so I could only see rough shapes if someone were to pass by.
Days passed. Time seemed to drag by. My regular meals of nutrition bars and the scratches on my hand were my only way of really counting time. The isolation was starting to get to me, my musings were becoming more bizarre. I would catch myself on occasion and bring my thoughts back into focus on the task of thinking the escape through. My workout regimen helped keep things together. Despite that, I started to have conversations with myself. It helped. If I couldn't hear anyone else's voice, at the very least I had to hear my own every once in a while. Pretending I was going mad was a lot more fun than running on the spot in complete silence. That was when I talked to myself the most, while I was running.
Externalizing the stress and restlessness helped keep my inner thoughts -- the exercise of recalling every centimetre of what I had seen on the few outings I had -- clearer. I had very few details of how the ship was put together, where exactly we were, and how we would get out, but I tried to be ready every instant. Sleep had become more difficult. They started to turn the lights off and on at irregular intervals.
For entertainment I had started to slowly lean myself against the loudly humming barrier at the front of my cell to let my body gently hover on the energy field. It was dangerous. The slightest exertion of pressure would be multiplied and could send me back against the wall behind me with incredible force, but I was so bored I didn't care. I even came within seconds of sneezing while I was leaning against it once. The mental picture of what would have happened if I didn't move away fast enough had me laughing on and off for hours. I'd sneeze, all the muscles in my body would tense, and the force of the sneeze would be multiplied back against me. I would have been flung against the rear bunk wall at a break-neck speed, literally.
At long last I saw a shadow pass by the field, and not just any shadow. It was in the shape of a hover chair with two guards behind. Elise was either being imprisoned or was being allowed to visit someone. I tried to quash all hopes that it was the latter, but it didn't make sense to have her delivered in her hover chair to a cell. She was as much imprisoned in a hospital bed as she was in a prison cell. Besides, it looked like she was wearing something with colour. Or was she? It was difficult to tell. It could've been a blanket, but why would they give her a blanket if they were just going to store her in a white room? The more I thought about the whole situation, the more I got wrapped up in the possibilities. Why she was here? what could be happening just down the hall?
The energy barrier disappeared. I just stood there for a moment, stunned. Everything in my mind had just completely stopped. Jason was across from me and I didn't see any guards. He was asleep, and somehow he had lost the top half of his jumpsuit. “Psst!”
He rolled over, lazily opened his eyes, then closed them. For a moment I thought he was just going to go back to sleep then his eyes snapped open again. “Jonas!”
I looked down the hallway and saw Minh poking his head out of his cell as well. He looked at me wide eyed. “Is this real?” he whispered.
“Pretty sure it's real,” I replied.
“Said the hallucination to the madman,” Minh replied with a wild eyed chuckle.
I looked farther down the hallway and stepped out of my cell. Something was going on a few cells down, but I couldn't see past Elise in her hover chair. I ran down and looked into the cell beside her. One guard lay limp inside, the other was trying to reach around to something on his back. It was a second before I realized that it wasn't something on his back that he was reaching for, but something in his back as his b
lood coated an invisible blade being drawn slowly from one of the wounds. With a flick of his invisible assailant's wrist the blade was free of blood, and a second later the guard’s head came off his shoulders.
An invisible hand pushed me further into the cell and I was face to face with Doctor Lang. “Good to see you.”
She looked absolutely bewildered. “What's happening?”
“I think we're being rescued by people in cloak suits, either that or figments of my imagination.”
Four guards came rushing into the hallway and within seconds they were cut to pieces. The main airlock doors leading to the prison closed, the sound of the security seal echoing through the hollow spaces, and I heard a voice right beside me. “Ayan would be here herself, but she and Alice are working on something only they can accomplish together.” I heard a distantly familiar female voice say. Her voice was distorted through the headpiece to her cloak suit, and it reminded me of one of the online team that joined us aboard.
“How do we get out?” I asked. “Everything outside this prison block is sealed.”
“Don't worry about that. Alice has managed to destroy the artificial intelligence that protected the security for the prison section. She's keeping the prison closed until we're ready to leave. Are you ready Captain?”
I felt a pulse rifle and a communicator in my hand and a grin spread across my face. I was beyond ready, I was giddy. I nodded.
Oz and the rest of the imprisoned crew were gathering at the front of the cell. I took Doctor Lang's hand and she seemed to emerge from her daze. “We're leaving, Fiona. Look after Elise.” I told her in a gentle whisper.
She looked to the young woman in her hover chair and smiled. Elise smiled back. “Alice told me how you started my treatment. Thank you Doctor.”
Spinward Fringe Broadcast 0: Origins Page 21
