by Devin Hanson
She hadn’t finished speaking before Eckhart brushed past her, his helmet already off. “Of course it’s safe,” he said bitingly, his words muffled. “The life support system didn’t fail.”
Sarah exchanged a glance with Pascal, and the big man shrugged before popping the seal on his helmet. He waited for a moment, poised to seal his suit again, and then removed his helmet with a grimace. “It’s fine,” he said.
Reluctantly, Sarah removed her helmet. The air that rushed in felt wet and smelled like the ocean. After months of living in space where humidity was kept to a minimum, breathing the air felt like she was forcing soup into her lungs. She had been half-expecting to smell the reek of bloating corpses, but there was none of that. She shivered a little. The air was cool, only a handful of degrees above freezing, and the damp made it feel even colder.
“If you’re quite ready,” Eckhart said impatiently, “we will take the lift down to the habitat.”
A little sheepishly, Sarah joined the others on the lift and Eckhart hit the button with a lack of fanfare that made her want to shake him. Where was his sense of adventure? They were about to descend into a space station that had been wiped clean of life, and Eckhart was acting like he was late to another board meeting.
The lift shaft opened up to a wide, circular atrium, the walls all about clear polymer from the floor to the ceiling. Outside, the bottom of the ice shelf was visible, stretching away into the underwater gloom. Parts of the station were visible from the atrium, dark polymer bulbs and tubes nearly lost in the murk.
Around the atrium, consoles and computer systems were grouped together in stations. The center of the atrium was open, giving a view down to the levels below. Water lapped just below the level of the atrium floor.
“It’s flooded,” Pascal said. “The whole station is flooded.”
Eckhart shot a glower at him. “Yes, our sensors suggested as such.” He looked out at the still water and frowned. “The bilge pumps must have failed.”
“This looks like more than a bilge failure,” Alastair said dubiously. “You must have a major breach somewhere.”
“And what do you know about underwater habitats?” Eckhart growled. “The computer systems seem to be offline. This will take some time to sort out and pump the lower levels dry again.”
The systems specialist, Anton Gervais, stepped up to one of the consoles, and with a few taps, brought the console online and logged in. The two engineers joined him, pecking at their handhelds and muttering clipped sentences rich with specs at each other.
Sarah glanced at the captain for direction. Alastair looked thoughtfully at the civilians and shrugged. “I guess we’re waiting.”
Waiting, for Sarah, meant digging through their packs, pushing together a few pieces of furniture, and trying to put together some kind of meal that was more involved than eating rehydrated glop from foil bags. After eating, and with nothing more to do in the foreseeable future, she explored the atrium and tried to bring her vaunted intellectual abilities to bear.
Try as she might, there was very little insight she could conjure up about the station. The technology was either blatantly obvious or thoroughly beyond her understanding. She ended up staring out the windows, her eyes drawn to the depths and her mind wandering.
The ocean on Enceladus was very different than on Earth. The liquid portion was three times as deep, and while the gravity was only a fraction of Earth’s, the weight of the ice above them built to a crushing pressure. The station’s walls were curved to maximize strength and heavily ribbed with polymer reinforcements.
Her eye fell on the edge of the window pane she was looking out of. There was some kind of organic buildup on the outside of the window. She looked closer and saw what looked like a brown-gray paste clinging to the windows.
“What is this?” Sarah asked loudly, pointing to the scum.
Dr. Chow came over and made a bored grunt of disinterest. “Bacterial bloom,” she said with a shrug.
“I thought there wasn’t any life on Enceladus,” Sarah said.
“There isn’t. Well, none that humans haven’t brought with them. This is the same kind of bacteria you find on the ocean floor on Earth around the deep sea vents.”
“You can tell that at a glance?”
“It’s not my specialty,” Dr. Chow said with another shrug, “but I remember reading a paper about it a few years back.”
“The good doctor is quite right,” Eckhart said, joining in on the conversation. “It’s nothing more than Earth bacteria. It’s chemosynthetic and grows wherever there’s a ready source of heat.”
“Isn’t that… I don’t know, unethical? Contaminating a biosphere with foreign biological matter?” Sarah asked dubiously.
“It’s not a biosphere if there is no life, Petty Officer,” Eckhart said condescendingly. “And don’t speak to me about ethics. Did you decontaminate your suit before leaving the Carbuncle?” He shrugged. “You’re just as much of a foreign biological infection on Enceladus as the station is.”
Dr. Chow coughed a laugh and shook her head. “You’re a real piece of work, Eckhart.”
“Essence Microsystems broke no laws,” he replied with a calm smile.
“But there are no laws out here to break!” Sarah pointed out.
“Now you’re getting it. If you’ll excuse me.” Eckhart left them at the window and returned to the console where Anton was working.
“God, I hate that guy,” Dr. Chow said quietly to Sarah, glaring after him.
“We’ll be done here soon enough,” Sarah shrugged. “Then the only person who will have to live with him will be himself.”
“I can take comfort in that,” Dr. Chow said with a tight smile.
Sarah returned to her aimless wandering about the atrium. An hour passed, then two hours. And then, finally, something changed. The dim emergency lighting flickered out and was replaced by bright lights. The water below the atrium gurgled and started to recede.
Captain Alastair looked up alertly from his handheld and asked, “What happened?”
“We have the station back online,” Anton said, still typing furiously at his keyboard. “And any second now… ah!”
“Hello,” a pleasant male voice said.
Sarah spun around, looking for the source of the voice, and spotted a small speaker set high on the wall.
“Station, this is Walter Eckhart, of Essence Microsystems. Identity code, A32MI9.” Eckhart called out his code slowly, taking care to enunciate.
“Identity recorded. Good afternoon, Walter.”
Eckhart frowned. In an aside to Anton, he said, “This is it? This is all the progress you’ve made?”
“No. Uh, there are multiple banks that are not yet online.”
“You were developing an AI here?” Sarah asked. A cold prickle ran up her back. “How much of the station does it have under its control?”
“Relax,” Eckhart snapped at her. “It’s perfectly safe. The AI has been operating for years now. We’ve been putting the final touches on its language development skills before we announce its readiness for active use.”
“Perfectly safe!” Sarah said, her voice rising into a strangled shout. “There are forty bodies here who would disagree!”
“Explain, Sarah,” Alastair commanded.
Sarah raised a finger and pointed it at Eckhart. “They’ve made an AI, Captain! That’s what this station is for, isn’t it? You don’t care about researching Saturn or Enceladus. You’re here because they’ve outlawed AI development even in Jovian space!”
Eckhart started to get angry then hauled himself back into his sneering boardroom calm. “Once again, Petty Officer, you’ve described our legal position perfectly. You said it yourself, Captain, there is no way an electromagnetic signal could make it through miles of ice. There is no risk of contamination into Jovian or any other space.”
“How advanced is your AI?” Dr. Chow asked curiously.
“It is capable of carrying out a convers
ation like an adult. It is quite intelligent; in some aspects, significantly more so than a human.”
“Has it passed the Turing test?”
“No, and we have no intention of attempting that. We’re not trying to make a fake human; we’re attempting to bridge the gap between humans and machines. It’s nothing more than a language bot. After all, what is intelligence beyond the ability to understand and initiate communication? That is the core of our project. If it can learn a language and understand the concepts communicated to it, the AI can then take action based on its understandings.”
“That’s nice, but are we in danger?” Alastair asked, eyeing Eckhart.
“Of course not,” Eckhart scoffed. “At the moment, the AI is barely cognizant. The deeper systems and station interface are offline. And even if it were fully online, it is programmed to put the survival of humans first. There is no way it could take an action opposed to that.”
Alastair looked pointedly around at the atrium. “Things are not fine here, Eckhart. If it is so perfect, what happened?”
“We’re running diagnostics now to find that out,” Eckhart said with a patronizing smile.
“Do you have access to the security logs?” Pascal asked.
“We do,” Anton confirmed. “Or we will, once the memory banks come online.”
“But,” Eckhart jumped in, “those are sensitive, private, intellectual properties. I’m sorry to say we cannot share them.”
Pascal looked to Alastair and the captain shook his head. “Our mission statement is to restore functionality to the station,” Alastair said. “How much of the AI must come online before that is complete?”
“All of it. The station won’t be secure until the AI is fully operational.”
“Very well.” Alastair folded his arms and nodded. “Until that happens, I would remind you that I am still in charge of this shore party. Please inform me before any more major changes are made to the AI or the station’s systems.”
Eckhart shot a glance at Pascal, who returned his gaze levelly. “Fine.” Eckhart sniffed and turned his back.
“Captain,” Dr. Chow said quietly in the silence following the confrontation, “the water level is receding. We should form search parties and collect the bodies before they start to become… unsanitary.”
“Right.” Alastair pointed at the two engineers. “Mr. and Mrs. Ulrich, if I may have your attention.”
Vivian looked up from her console in surprise. “Of course, Captain.”
“Thank you. You are now detailed on body collection. Sarah and Pascal, you form a team. Doctor, you’re with me. If I recall correctly, the next level down has a dormitory module?”
Jayden nodded, his face pale. “The executive suites are located there, yes.”
“Good. We’ll store the bodies there for the time being. Stay in radio contact and maintain suit integrity. We don’t know what caused the station to malfunction, but I won’t lose more lives unnecessarily.”
“I assure you,” Eckhart drawled, “the station is perfectly–”
“This is not a matter up for discussion, sir,” Alastair cut him off. “I am in command here, and my orders will be followed.”
Sarah sighed and reached for her helmet. It wouldn’t be the first time she had to deal with dead bodies. Wearing the suit while performing manual labor would be uncomfortable, but at least she wouldn’t have to breathe any of the smell.
Collecting the corpses of the station’s old crew went as smoothly as could be hoped. Of the forty men and women, over half of them were in the level directly under the atrium and most of the rest were in the next level down.
Over the course of two hours, Sarah worked with Pascal, exploring the station and moving the dead into the executive suites. The bodies were at least a week old, but the near-freezing temperature of the water had kept them intact. The most difficult part was hauling the bodies up the ladder well to the executive suites. The bodies were stiff, which made it easier, but it was a long, unpleasant two hours.
After combing through the two levels and finding no further bodies, Sarah and Pascal returned to the executive suites to check in. Dr. Chow had arranged the bodies in neat rows and had found a supply closet with sheets of opaque plastic. It wasn’t a morgue, but it would have to do.
Sarah leaned against a wall and eased her aching shoulders. The doctor had taken off her helmet and was leaning over one of the bodies, examining it. After a moment’s hesitation, Sarah cracked the gasket on her own helmet and took a tentative breath of the air. It smelled salty, and the scent of death was in the air, but no worse than a steak that had been sitting for a few days in the fridge. Now that the bodies were out of the water and starting to warm up, that wasn’t going to be the case for very long.
“What’s the prognosis, Doc?” Pascal asked. “Are they going to make it?”
Sarah tried to suppress unexpected laughter and snorted, then laughed at her snort.
Dr. Chow turned to them with a glower. “It’s not funny, you cretins. Show some respect.”
Pascal grinned and shrugged. “My mistake.”
“The cause of death, Chief,” the doctor said with emphasis, “seems to be drowning.”
“Seems to be?” Sarah asked.
“Without a proper autopsy, I can’t say for certain. The captain is currently in the atrium, discussing just that with our friendly local corporate stooge.”
“It looks like so many when they’re all together,” Sarah said soberly. “How did this happen? The atrium still had air in it, but there were no bodies there.”
“The atrium had air in it when we arrived,” Dr. Chow clarified. “That doesn’t mean it had air in it when these people died.”
“A good point,” Sarah admitted.
“And, as a matter of fact, we’re short a few bodies. If you two have nothing better to do, why don’t you look on the lower levels and see if you can find them.”
“How many are you missing?” Pascal asked, picking up his helmet. Sarah pushed herself off the wall with a groan.
“Two,” Dr. Chow said. “We only recovered thirty-eight bodies. Find the missing ones and bring them back here. And try to show some respect this time.”
The long walk into the depths of the station gave Sarah plenty of time to introspect, and she worked hard at keeping her mind engaged with her surroundings. She was going to have nightmares about walking through endless, dripping tunnels for years. The last thing she needed was to have her imagination start running wild as well.
The doctor had made it sound easy. Go down and find the two missing bodies. In reality, it was more involved than that. They had to check behind every desk, under every bunk, inside every cabinet and overhead compartment. There were so many places someone could have crawled to, especially if they were scared and trying to conceal themselves. It was like playing hide and seek, with the expectation of death around every corner.
After a while, it became grimly amusing, and then it just became tedious.
An hour into their search, Sarah’s headset clicked on and the captain’s voice came through. “Pascal, Sarah, how is your search coming?”
“Slowly, sir,” Pascal replied. “There is a lot to this station.”
“Well, don’t rush it, Chief. It’s best you don’t skip and have to start the search over again.”
“My thoughts as well.”
“Eckhart tells me the AI is ready to come online. They’re going to do it piece by piece. Apparently, they could find nothing wrong with the AI or its interactions with the station.”
“Is that wise, sir?” Sarah asked. “We’re pretty far down right now. If the station floods again it could make it difficult getting back up to the atrium.” She tried to keep her voice level and her objection rational, but her heart seemed to rise up in her throat and choke her.
“How are your oxygen levels?” Captain Alastair asked.
“Topped off, sir,” Pascal replied. “Our suits have been compressing it out of the air.
We’ll be fine for five or six hours, depending on physical exertion.”
“That should be more than enough time to return to the atrium. I’m giving Eckhart the go-ahead. If things change on your end, inform me immediately. I’ll reprogram the AI with a wrench if I have to.”
“Thank you, sir. Will do. Pascal out.”
“I am not comfortable with this,” Sarah said, once the link was closed.
“You watch too many movies,” Pascal shrugged. “We’ll be fine.”
Sarah glowered at him but relented. It wasn’t Pascal’s fault. The truth was, a robust AI would change space travel for the better. If Essence Microsystems managed to produce a functioning AI backed up by rigorous testing in a live environment, they would make billions overnight. It was a corporate wet dream, and it could also improve the quality of life for all humans immeasurably, whether they were in space or not.
She looked around at the office they were in, at the water-logged bulkheads and the ruined electronics. It was a corporate wet dream, but it was also incredibly dangerous if they had made a mistake in the coding somewhere.
There was a musical chime from a speaker in a bulkhead and the AI’s voice came through, muffled by Sarah’s helmet and whatever water was still in the speaker box. “Hello, Doctor Amari. It’s been over a week since your last logged insulin injection. Do you require medical assistance?”
Sarah glanced at Pascal and the big man cleared his throat. “Uh, I am Chief Pascal Ordontes, United Space Service, and this is Sarah Avaline, also of the USS. Doctor Amari is dead.”
“Oh.” There was a pause. “My apologies, some of my sensors seem to have been damaged. I understand the USS is here to resolve the accident?”
“After a fashion,” Sarah said, fumbling over her words. “I… uh, have to say I’m impressed. You are very articulate.”
“Thank you, Ms. Avaline.”
“So…” Pascal tilted his head back to look up at the speaker. “What do we call you, then?”
“You may call me Adam if that makes you comfortable. Is there something I can assist you with?”
