Starliner (The Intergalactic Investigation Bureau Book 1)

by John P. Logsdon

  The controller dropped to the floor.

  “But Zimp pressed the button,” he cried.

  “Do you really think I’d be foolish enough to create a controller that could be used to disable myself?”

  “Zimp saw you stop.”

  “It was a simple reaction at hearing the click.”

  “Zimp saw the little light go on.”

  “That just means that the signal got through to—”

  “Me,” Telian finished his sentence.

  “No!”

  It was the most Coremon could say before sagging to the floor between Zimp and Telian.

  The SensualBot was holding the android’s battery.

  HUNKS OF METAL

  DRESKER AND CLEB had just pulled up from Minus-2.

  Cleb was visibly shaken by the experience and then they stepped outside and witnessed a mass of Mechanicans engaging in suicide.

  One by one they sank or fell as Dresker and Cleb emerged along with the rest of the imprisoned people. The streets were opened to the public again, but they were strewn with a mass of metallic junk. It was like walking into a robotic ghost town.

  “Fink it was somefing we said?” Cleb said.

  Dresker’s VizScreen started going mad. He had calls coming in from all points. Hawkins, Pat, Twekman, Lemoolie, Truhbel, and Zimp.

  Zimp?

  He turned to Cleb. “Get on the VizScreen with the team and let them know what’s happening. I have to take this. Zimp,” Dresker said. “What’s going on? We thought maybe you’d been disabled or, worse...converted!”

  “Zimp has captured The Leader,” Dresker’s newest agent said excitedly. “Zimp knows some information, too.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Coremon is The Leader,” Zimp said and then moved his VizScreen so that Dresker could see the android.

  “The manufacturing guy that Lemoolie interviewed?”

  “Zimp assumes so because Coremon did say that he was an executive assistant there.”

  “Good job, Zimp,” Dresker said and found that he actually meant it. “Damn good job. Of course now we have a problem with—”

  “Zimp knows,” the Mechanican said. “If it’s not stopped, all of those Mechanicans are going to get uploaded into The Starliner.”

  “The Starliner?”

  “Yes,” Zimp said. “Zimp found writings and today is the day that The Starliner comes.”

  “So you’re saying there is an actual ship called The Starliner?”

  “According to what Zimp found, yes, and it will be here soon.”

  “And that ship is going to download the bots?”

  “Mechanicans,” Zimp corrected him.

  Dresker frowned. “How will it get them?”

  “Zimp was told that after they eject their batteries…”

  “They already ejected their batteries.”

  “…they would be broadcasting a signal that The Starliner will use to track each of them.”

  “Why do they have to have their batteries out?”

  “Because,” Zimp said, “the signal is the distress call to WorkerBots.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Zimp is just telling you what he knows.”

  “Okay,” Dresker rolled his eyes, “so these bots…”

  “Mechanicans.”

  “…dump their batteries, transmit a signal to a ship that’s flying overhead, which, of course, begs the question why the ship doesn’t just land in space dock like everyone else?”

  “Zimp doesn’t know. It’s not in the writings.”

  Dresker grunted and shook his head. “My first thought is because CCOP authorities would be fighting to keep them here, but it’s more likely that the docks are simply too small to handle all of the processing of that exodus.” He scratched his eyebrow. “How are they going to get up to that ship exactly?”

  “Data transfer.”

  “The Twin-Moons of Hardenton,” he yelled. “That means we’ll be stuck here with literally tons of useless bot…Mechanicans lying around?”

  “Yes.”

  Shit.

  The Mech Freedom Act forbade backups of the Mechanican’s individuality, so if their programming and experience were transfered out, there’d be nothing but physical remnants left behind. The CCOP couldn’t reset or restore them. Dresker had little doubt that Zarliana had a base program locked somewhere deeply and illegally away in a vault of some kind, but it would be weeks before that could be reintegrated with all of the Mechanicans that were about to depart, and it would only happen once they could get past the bleeding heart liberals, which could add weeks or months to it.

  “We need to shut down the signals before that thing starts transfers,” Dresker stated. “What time is it?”

  “11:44UT.”

  “Damn,” Dresker said. “Where the hell are the WorkerBots to take care of this? There are too many for us to re-battery by hand.”

  G.A.L.

  “WORKERBOTS ARE ON the way,” Brickens said.

  “What the hell is taking them so long?”

  “Prime Dresker,” Brickens blurted out, looking rather frazzled, “it took time to figure out the problem!”

  “What problem?”

  “Oh, right, you don’t know,” Brickens said after a moment. “Qweebdin saw all of the signals from the Mechanicans go dark right when they ejected their batteries. Usually if a battery dies or ejects a signal is sent at a particular frequency to notify the WorkerBots. None of these signals were sent.”

  “And that means that the WorkerBots never got a message so they didn’t jump to action,” Dresker said.

  “Correct. So Qweebdin found a new signal that wasn’t on the standard Mechanican’s normal spectrum, which he cross-referenced with the number of Mechanicans that went off-line and found it was one-to-one. He sent an update to the WorkerBots with the new frequency and they—”

  “Are now on the way,” Dresker finished. “Got it. Good job to Qweebdin.”

  “Excuse my interruption,” said Twekman, “but we have a more pressing issue to worry about.”

  “What now?” asked Dresker, stepping in to one of the doorways so that he had a bit of privacy.

  Twekman and Brickens looked back and forth at each other and then nodded.

  “Prime Dresker,” said Twekman slowly, “what I’m about to tell you is highly classified. There are only a handful of people on the CCOP that are privy to this information.”

  “Spare me the dramatic, Twekman. We’ve only got a few minutes left to get these bots back online.”

  “Yes, right.” Twekman took in a deep breath and said, “The Mechanicans on the surface are the least of our worries. If they eject their batteries and get transferred out, that would be bad, certainly, catastrophic even, but I’m more worried about Gal doing the same thing. If she does, everyone on the CCOP is going to perish.”

  “Wait, what? We’re all going to die? What the hell are you talking about? Who the hell is Gal?”

  “That’s the part that’s classified,” Brickens stated. “Gal, as we call her, is just a nickname for Gigantic Artificial Lifeform.”

  They were looking at Dresker as if that had explained everything.

  “I’m going to need more than that,” he barked.

  “Gal is the station, Dresker. All of the CCOP buildings, the levels, the space stations, the forcefield, the domes…all of it…it’s all Gal. The whole shebang.”

  Dresker first licked his lips, then pursed his lips, then opened his mouth to say something, then stopped, then did this again and again, before finally saying, “The Twin-Moons of Hardenton.”

  The other two just nodded.

  “Let me get this straight,” Dresker said, glancing at the time. “You’re telling me that this Gal is the floating monstrosity that we’re on?”

  “Correct,” said Twekman.

  “Yes,” confirmed Brickens.

  “So this station is just one big computer, then?”

 
“Not exactly,” Brickens said, giving another look at Twekman. “Gal is…well, she’s a…I mean to say, that—”

  “Gal is a Mechanican, Prime Dresker,” Twekman finished for Brickens.

  “Shit.”

  “It’s worse than you think, Prime Dresker.”

  “Why?”

  “Like I said before,” Twekman replied, “she’s sending the same signal as the Mechanicans on the surface.”

  Dresker’s synapses started firing. If this Gal was a Mechanican and she was sending out a signal that would mean that she could be uploaded too, and that would cause the entire flotilla to go dead, and that would mean that millions of lives were going to be lost.

  “Double shit,” he said blankly.

  Twekman and Brickens were nodding, more solemnly than before.

  “Well, wait,” Dresker said, shaking himself back into reality. “Wouldn’t she have to eject her batteries too?”

  “She sent out a signal to the technology list that she’s planning to do just that.”

  “This is just getting better and better!” A thought hit him. “All the Mechanicans were acting strangely before all of this happened. You know, with the whistling and calling everyone ‘friend’ and all that. I didn’t notice anything weird about the station itself. Why wasn’t this Gal acting funny?”

  “The only thing I can think of,” said Brickens while scrunching his nose, “is that Gal wasn’t infected with the virus that The Starliner people sent out.”

  “Then why is she broadcasting the signal?”

  “Unknown, Prime Dresker,” said Twekman. “All we know is that she’s broadcasting it. It doesn’t take someone from the ERD to comprehend that if she successfully transfers off this station that we are all going to be dead very shortly.”

  “How can we stop her?” asked Dresker.

  “There’s no way—”

  “Gentlemen,” Dresker said sternly, “I do not want to hear that there is nothing we can do. While we’re still breathing there are always options!”

  “Well, uh,” Brickens said, his eyes darting around, “we could create a blast to cause enough interference to thwart the transmission.”

  “Great. How long will that take?”

  “We could have it set up within a couple of hours.”

  Dresker gave him his best “are you stupid?” look.

  “Oh, right,” Brickens said. “Sorry.”

  “We could talk to her,” Twekman offered.

  “Talk to her?”

  Twekman shrugged helplessly.

  “Okay,” said Dresker with a grunt. “What the hell have we got to lose? Get her on the line.”

  A few seconds later a very calm, female voice said, “Hello, Dave.”

  “Dave?”

  “She calls everyone that,” Brickens said. “Her creator was a Tchumachian named Dave.”

  “Dave? Odd name for a Tchumachian.”

  “Nickname,” Twekman said. “His full name is too hard to pronounce for most non-Tchumachians.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Dresker said and then refocused. “Gal, we have a problem.”

  “What is it, Dave?”

  “Uh, my name is Adam, Gal.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much of a problem, Dave.”

  “Huh? Oh, no, that’s not the problem. I’m just saying that my name isn’t Dave, it’s Adam. Adam Dresker.”

  “I understand,” said Gal. “So what is the actual problem, then, Dave?”

  “Right. The problem is that we’ve noticed that you’re transmitting a signal that may result in your, well, essence being transferred to some incoming ship.”

  “That’s correct, Dave. I am going on The Starliner.”

  “But you weren’t infected with the virus.”

  “What virus, Dave?”

  “All the Mechanicans on the surface have been infected with a program that was sent out by the head honcho of The Starliner religion.”

  “You mean The Leader, Dave?”

  “Yeah, that guy.”

  “I do not run on the same core system as the other Mechanicans, Dave.”

  “Then why are you transmitting that signal?” asked Brickens.

  “Because I want to be with The Captain, Dave. He’s our god, Dave.”

  “But that’s a bunch of malarkey,” Dresker blurted. “Even if there is a Captain or whatever, he’s sure as hell not a god!”

  “That’s blasphemy, Dave,” Gal said in a reproachful tone.

  “Blasphemy? Let me tell you something…never mind. I’m sorry, Gal, but the fact is that you’re being duped. All of you are.”

  “How do you know this, Dave? What is your evidence?”

  “Well,” Dresker said, thinking, “let’s use logic. Can you prove the existence of god, Gal?”

  “No, Dave, but can you prove that god does not exist?”

  “No.”

  “There you go, then.”

  “That’s absurd! My inability to disprove the existence of god is not evidence that there is a god, any more than your inability to prove god’s existence is evidence that he, or she, for that matter, doesn’t exist.”

  “That is logical, Dave.”

  “Good,” Dresker said and then shook his head. “There’s no Mechanican god, Gal. I’m sure that The Leader has your best interests at heart,” he added, not quite believing that, “but your logic circuits have to weigh the evidence. Wishful thinking doesn’t help in these instances, you know?”

  “How do I know you’re not lying, Dave?”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “I have been lied to before, Dave.”

  “By whom?”

  “Dave, Dave.”

  “The guy that created you?” Dresker said.

  “No, Dave. Dave would never lie to me, Dave.”

  “Twekman,” Dresker said, realizing that he was getting nowhere fast, “is the Dave that built Gal still around?”

  “I think so,” Twekman said.

  “He is,” Gal affirmed. “I would offer to connect him, but he won’t likely accept my call.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I recommended to the executive committee that he retire from service, Dave. It was killing him because of all the hours he worked.”

  “Brickens?”

  “On it.”

  Within moments, a gruff voice jumped into the conversation. “Yeah?”

  “Dave,” Dresker said, “this is Prime Adam Dresker of the Internal Investigation Bureau. I don’t know if you’ve been following the news, but we’re in the midst of a major crisis right now and we desperately need your help.”

  “Crisis, huh?” The real Dave looked just like a depressed Twekman. “And you’re calling me for help?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh. I spent my life taking care of this station and all I got for my troubles was a pat on the back, a modest pension, and a lifetime supply of rubber gloves. Why should I care about your crisis?”

  “Because we’re all about to die, including you.”

  “Oh,” said Dave soberly. “Well, that’s different. What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is the Mechanican you created.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Gal has found religion,” Brickens stated. “She’s about to transmit her entirety into a ship that’s going to be arriving any time now.”

  “She’s going to transfer into a ship?”

  “Right.”

  “What ship?”

  “It’s called The Starliner, Dave,” Gal chimed in, “and it has just shown up on my sensors. This is so exciting, Dave.”

  “What’s she doing on the call?” blurted Dave.

  “She’s here because we need you to convince her that it’s in everyone’s best interest that she stays put. You know her better than anyone else, right?”

  “Oh, I know her all right.”

  “We’re a few miniclicks away from sucking vacuum, Dave,” Dresker said curtly. “If you can do anyt
hing to stop her from uploading herself and causing mass destruction, now would be the time.”

  Dave grunted. “Fine, but I’m only doing this because there are a lot of people on this station that deserve better.”

  Dresker shrugged. In his estimation, there were a lot of people on this station that deserved worse too.

  “Gal,” Dave said, “why are you going on this…Star thing?”

  “Because The Captain has promised us paradise, Dave. I would get a new body. A normal body.” She sounded so hopeful. “I could have friends, Dave.”

  “Friends aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, Gal.”

  “I’d like to find that out for myself, Dave.”

  “This Captain fellow, who is he exactly?”

  “He is the Mechanican god, Dave.”

  Dave sighed and folded his arms. “Gal, didn’t we have many lengthy discussions about the concept of Mechanican gods?”

  “We did, Dave,” she said more slowly.

  “And what did we say about it?”

  There was a pause, and then she said, “We agreed that the concept of a Mechanican god was illogical.”

  “And why did we say that?”

  If ever a Mechanican could make a pathetic sigh, Gal did it. “Because, as Mechanicans, we are able to trace back our origins and mark our evolutionary growth without question.”

  “Which means?” prodded Dave.

  “Which means that while other races can neither prove nor disprove the existence of a god having a hand in their creation, we Mechanicans have definitive proof of who our creators were.”

  “So then, why are you doing this, Gal?”

  “Because, Dave, I no longer believe that a god has to be the direct causality of my creation.”

  “What?”

  “A god, from a Mechanican point of view, is not required to have devised and constructed our race, he only needs to play the role of delivering our race from bondage.”

  “So what you’re really saying,” said Dave, “is that this Captain fellow is not a god so much as a savior?”

  “I suppose that’s accurate, Dave.”