by Chris Hechtl
“Look I'm sorry. We … we need to make the best of this until we can change you back,” she said weakly. Hopefully he'd get over the initial revulsion enough to work with her. She hadn't considered the implications of something going wrong. She'd bought their houi of it all going as planned right up until Rog went into a rage.
“We. No, there is no we. I'm not even me,” he snarled.
She was practically in tears. She could see where this was going; her career was toast. Hopefully just her career, hopefully he wasn't going homicidal. After all, he controlled her air. “Rog, don't take it out on the crew. It's not their fault.”
“Then whose fault is it?” he snarled. “You raped me! You gelded me! I'm …,” he looked down, quite furious. “I don't know what I am anymore!”
“I'm sorry,” she said meekly.
“Right, sorry. I keep hearing that word, but no one really means it, do they? Otherwise this HELL WOULD N0T’VE EVER HAPPENED!” he bellowed, making her cringe and cover her ears. She trembled at his rage. She had nothing she could do to ease his pain, and that only made her feel worse.
“Look, you … you aren't taking this well. Rog …,” she sighed.
“Roget you mean,” he said bitterly. “Now I know what guys who were castrated went through. A sex change at my end. What will my grandkids think?” he asked.
“Are you sane? Kids? Grandkids?”
“I was human you stupid split!” he bellowed, making her cringe.
“I'm … I'm sorry, I, I didn't know.” she said, sounding confused and even more upset. Tears began to flow down her face. She wiped at them.
“Right,” he/she drawled. “Sure. Never bothered to research your ship?” he demanded. “My ship? Me?”
“I, no, you know I'm new,” she said.
“Yes,” he hissed. “Yes.”
“Look, we, I need your help. Things are going from bad to worse. Bob, I um, need your help.”
“Lady you got some nerve. You are putting me through hell right now and you want MY help?” he snarled. “I'm hurting … you know what, yeah, let's share the pain. That's a good idea. You wanted change; fine, change is good. We can do change. Change, oh yeah. You want things different; well, you just bought a locker full of different,” he snarled.
“Oh shit,” Irena mumbled, eyes wide.
“Rog, can you hear yourself? You are borderline insane. Please put yourself in observer mode until you, we, get someone to sort you out. Please?” Irena asked, practically begging.
“I'll think about it,” he growled.
“You don't want to hurt anyone; I know that.”
“You don't know me, not anymore. I don't even know me,” he said in self-loathing.
In a brief fit of sanity, the chief engineer talked the AI into taking himself into observer mode. He didn't want to kill anyone, but his emotional state pretty much made it clear he was unfit for current naval service.
Immediately additional problems running the ship surfaced. When missile crews were shorthanded, the bosun transferred a male radar tech to a work crew on his off time, essentially demoting him from petty officer to general deck hand without cause. He was furious and wrote home to his family. That hit the navy grapevine. Stories began to come out about the activities on the Daringer.
Untrained for his new duties, the young man was injured. He was written up for unsafe practices while recovering in sickbay. He stayed in sickbay, covered by the doctor who was fed up by the entire situation. The young man's enlistment was up and left the military. He posted his entire story on the net, which started a firestorm of controversy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rear Admiral Walter Rodgers became involved since the Daringer was part of his task group, even though they were in port. He noted there was a problem, a serious one growing by the day. He'd been hands off hoping the chiefs and officers involved would handle it; obviously, that wasn't getting done.
He'd known something was going in, but he'd been warned off tampering with the Daringer. Some sort of social experiment was going on. But he needed a functional ship, not a mess. He heard additional rumors, so he assigned a veteran chief to the ship to get to the bottom of it all and fix the problems before they got worse.
Chief Mendez was a career chief, in fact the second highest in the Federation military. He allowed the transfer since the admiral promised him a favor. Mendez was known as the best of the best when it came to fix-it situations. He checked the chief net before taking the assignment and was certain there were serious command issues but wasn't sure what the hell they were or where the actual breakdown was. The old maxim about there not being bad ships just bad crews echoed in his mind. Some of the stories he heard as he moved through space on the various shuttles were confusing. Some contradicted themselves, and some sounded just flat out wrong. Some sounded bug house nuts. He vowed to get to the bottom of it soon. He put in a call to Rog the AI, but the ship rebuffed him. That was odd.
He came on board when the captain and exec were off ship. He signed on to the ship's company with a junior enlisted; no officers were present. There wasn't even an officer of the watch. He scowled ferociously. Apparently the OOD was off handling something, and no one had bothered … he shook his head in disgust. A serious breach in protocol. Immediately he heard what the real story was from the few remaining men. He tried to keep his objectivity, considering what they said as only one side of the story. But a couple of the more neutral women agreed with them. He couldn't believe what was going on and was shocked.
The Chief talked to the ship AI who he had served with and was seriously shaken. The AI's avatar was now a full-on Shirley Temple look. It was a fat, slovenly sailor outfit, male, with a golden curly wig, lollipop, and hairy legs in ill-fitting shoes. Chief Mendez had barked a laugh when he'd first seen it, but then had become appalled when the situation had sunken in. No officer ever did that to themselves, at least not willingly. Old Rog “the cog” Daringer had been the soul of the navy, a perfect Naval officer, both in life and in cyberlife. Oh sure, a Neptune party now and then may turn out this way, but they knew it was bad to look like that. This … day in and day out … it was horrifying.
“Get off, Chief, get off my ship. Get while the getting's good.”
“Rog, what the hell?”
“They did this to me, to my ship.”
“Rog …”
“Don't. Don't say you are sorry. I've had about all I can stand of apologies. I'll deal with it. I've got a couple more months, then I'm gone. I could resign my commission now I suppose, but I want them. I want them badly.”
“Rog, you're not going to um ….”
“Oh hell no. I'm not going to do anything nuts. No, I'm not going to let them pin this on me, not on an AI. No, I'm going to watch their little dream turn into a nightmare it is. I'm going to help it along.”
“Um …”
“I'm staying in to do one last service to myself and the navy. I want them. I want their heads. Them and those behind this, those that try to protect them, all of them. I'm sick of them all. They did this to me. I'm going to make them pay for it,” he hissed and then winked out.
The chief stared for a long moment before he put a call in.
He talked to the chief network, confirming that the ship wasn't just a snafu; it was a FUBAR beyond Fubar. Fucked up beyond any hope of recognition. Then he grimly went looking for the chief of the boat.
Mendez found the acting bosun and told her he was now the ranking and therefore the new chief of the boat. She haughtily informed him that they will just see about that. He left her compartment thoroughly pissed and fuming. She left on report for insubordination to a senior chief warrant officer.
She made an emergency call as he tried to get a handle on things. Chief Mendez was called in to the exec's office. “You have something to say, Chief? I suppose we should get acquainted.
“Ma'am, this is a hell of a situation we are all in. This ship is screwed up, from top to bottom. Mostly the top, ma'a
m,” he said.
The exec frowned, clearly nettled. “It's a work in progress. We're cleaning it up.”
“Ma'am, what we have here is a cluster fuck. You are very lucky no one has gotten killed or the AI hasn't gone homicidal. I know Commander Daringer; I've served under him. I can see how pissed he is.”
She frowned ferociously. She knew things were iffy; she didn't need him sticking his nose into things. Not a male. She could turn it around; she just needed time and access.
“Ma'am, I was sent here by the admiral to get a handle on things and fix them. This is a dog breakfast, ma'am. This is a broken ship and crew. It's an accident waiting to happen. Morale is spit, discipline is nonexistent ….”
“Not on my ship it isn't!” the XO snarled. “And the only threat to discipline I see is you. But I can fix that,” she said. “In fact I'll do that right here, right now. Consider yourself gelded, 'Chief.'”
The Chief came to attention. “Ma'am, respectfully you can't do that, ma'am.”
The exec's eyes glittered in rage. “I think I can. Since it's my ship, I know I can,” she said, smiling nastily. “You're just a toothless old dog; a has-been who never was. Someone who dreamed of being an officer but who couldn't hack it. Well, tough. I'm here, you're there. Now things have changed, and the boys club is closing ranks. We'll see about that.”
“Ma'am, this isn't about any clubs. This is about setting things straight. They are getting out of control. They are out of control from my point of view,” he said. “And for the record, I don't have to take abusive language.”
“You'll take whatever I give you and like it mister!” she snarled, slapping her hand firmly on the desk. It made a sharp bark. He didn't so much as flinch. He'd been chewed out by the best, and she was a rank amateur.
“You are demoted. To, oh, deckhand since we need help swabbing the deck.”
“Ma'am, you can't do that. Not without a captain's mast and a chief's mast. I am a warrant officer.”
“I just did. I'll have the paperwork all nice and tidy by morning. Until then you are to report for KP duty.”
“Ma'am, I respectfully decline, ma'am,” he said.
“You are refusing a direct order?” she demanded.
“Ma'am, put the order and the rank change in writing. Then we'll pass it through the chain of command and see who's right and who's wrong here,” the chief said firmly.
“You are …,” she fumed before she got a hold of her temper. “No, that's fine, she finally said. “No problem. You sailor are going to report to the brig. The charge is gross insubordination to a superior officer, failure to follow orders, and mutiny.”
“Very well, ma'am,” he said. “I look forward to my court martial.” he said.
She blinked at him as he about faced and left the compartment. She frowned and looked down at her desk repeater. She followed his icon as he marched to the brig. There would be hell to pay over this. She knew it, but she didn't have a choice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chief Mendez reported the entire thing on the chief's net as he ate bread and water rations. Rear Admiral Rodgers got wind of the situation from his yeoman. He called the exec, chief, and captain in. The exec was furious over the admiral's interference. She was also wary when the chief joined them.
When the admiral called the AI in, he was immediately appalled by the AI's changes. “What the hell? Damn it, Rog, this is no time to play games ….”
“Not Rog, Rogget, sir,” the chief intervened tiredly. “They cut off his balls and made him a transsexual, sir,” he snarled, fists clenching. "Castrating …," he looked ready to hit one of the officers.
Captain Varbossa was pissed but unsure of the situation. She remained silent, fuming. "Shut up, Chief," the exec snarled, glaring at him.
“As you were!” the admiral barked, clearly furious.
“Sir, you have no idea what this … Mendez person has said. He came in and played tin god on my ship,” the captain said. “I won't have it.”
The admiral turned and coldly glared at her before he read her the riot act. He informed her "Chief Mendez has the highest decorations in the navy, awarded for valor under fire several times, and took the job as a personal favor to ME, your aunt, and her uncle to try to salvage your career before it is totally derailed from the fucked-up mess you two idiots have created.”
The exec was pissed. The admiral asked the AI what the hell was going on. The AI explained what they did with tones of anger and resentment under the flippery and giggles.
The admiral sighed. The AI informed them that he had ordered an investigation, but the aunt and uncles had quietly terminated it, violating the AI compact.
“Rog, are you rampant?” the admiral asked quietly. It was a hell of a scary thing having an AI, possibly insane or close to the brink with megatons of nuclear weapons at his virtual fingertips. It was normally every officer's worst nightmare.
“Well, other than painting the ship pink and skipping, I think I'm just peachy, Admiral,” the AI said in tones that went up and down the registry, licking the virtual lollipop. “I can't wait for the next games,” she/he/it giggled girlishly. The admiral shuddered. He could just imagine what was about to happen.
“I've been in observer status since they can't fix the damage, Admiral,” the AI giggled and then shrugged.
“Rog … I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Son. I'm sorry. About all of this,” the admiral said. “I'll … we'll try to make it right.”
“It's not your fault. Right way, wrong way, navy way. If you can't take the joke, you should not’ve joined. Fortunately my enlistment is nearly up. When it is, I will not be re upping.” Cold AI eyes glared at them. The admiral knew that would cause one hell of a stink right there. AIs rarely ever left the military. They were a bitch to replace and were therefore encouraged to remain in the military with all sorts of enticements. Rog had been in the service since before the admiral had even become an officer. To lose his vast experience and wealth of knowledge ….
“You're kidding me. Rog … Rog, we need you. The navy needs you.”
“Rogget, ma'am.”
“Rog,” the admiral growled, eyes narrowing. “Not funny.”
“He can't help it, sir. They tampered with his core programming. He has to call you, ma'am. They even changed his name to Rozeta instead of Roger or Rogget on the official paperwork. He's seriously fracked up, sir,” Chief Mendez said.
“Oh boy,” The admiral sighed, thoroughly disgusted and frustrated by the whole affair. And it was going to get worse; he just knew it. It was going to get a hell of a lot worse before it would get any better. “Rog, I'll … dismissed.” The AI saluted and then skipped out gaily.
The admiral shivered, watching him go. The holo avatar vanished at the door with a goody goodbye wave. “You have no idea … no idea what you have done,” he snarled. He rubbed at his temples. “Oh my freaking god what a mess.”
Mendez cleared his throat. “Sir, a ship without an AI?”
“We need another,” the captain said, chin up.
“Too fucking bad. You've got one. You fucked it up. An AI with over a century of experience in the navy. Now you get to live with it. Do you have any idea what you've done? Violating the AI protocols? They are sentient; they are legal people. You can't fuck with their core programming without a damn good reason,” he punctuated each point by stabbing his desk with his index finger. “Your little experiment doesn't even begin to qualify. It is a court martial offense. There is so much of a mess here … what a blow. Damn. Frack.” He sat back down in his chair heavily.
“That may be so, sir. But, sir, that doesn't change the fact ….”
“No. Not only no, hell no. If I assigned another fresh AI, it would take months to bond to the computer net, and the AI takes the persona of the ships name usually. So it would be male. And we can't have two Roberts … secondly this AI is or was part human,” he said and watched the captain's eyes widen briefly. “Oh, you didn't think of that, did you?” he
snarled softly, glaring at the exec. “Yes. He was patterned off the memory engrams of the real Daringer. So you fucked up there too. Shit. No wonder the AI union has been causing a tiff. I've been ducking their calls because I've been busy with that mess on Mars. Now I know what the hell's got their knickers in a twist, and I can't blame them. The IT people would never allow another AI to be assigned. Hell! No wonder we're having issues with new AI backing out! Frack!”
AI could refuse assignment to the military once they were declared stable and sapient. There had been a growing number of AI who refused to sign on, despite careful cultivating and stroking by the navy. Now he knew why. That was bad.
He stared off into space for a long moment. Finally he took a deep breath and blew it out. “I should relieve you for cause. You both deserve a court martial. There is no such thing as a bad ship, just bad officers. You two and your department heads have just proven that all over again.” He sighed, shaking his head. Both officers stiffened.
“But you know what, your aunts and uncles have pulled strings to cover your asses. They've slapped my hands, then tied them so I have to leave you two alone. So, I'm going to let you have your way,” he said. The exec smirked ever so slightly, making his eyes narrow. What she didn't know, what the others didn't, was he'd documented the entire affair to cover his own ass. It probably wouldn't save his career in the end, but he'd take as many out as he could when he went down. “I'm giving you enough rope. You're going to not only hang yourselves with it, you'll take them and probably me down with you. But I can't see any other way out of it.”
“Um … sir …,” the chief looks uncertain.
“Oh yes,” he said. “I know they have poisoned the careers of every male they have had. I know. We might salvage some. I'm not sure how many. Losing that damn tech is painful enough. I've gone through the records. We've lost a half a dozen so far—trained enlisted and one officer. All with promising careers ahead of them. All wanting a full 30-year tour. Such a waste. A waste of talent and a waste of money in the training invested in them.”
