by G J Ogden
Chapter 23
The first of its kind
Sterling slid the number twenty-seven meal tray onto the table and sat down in front of Mercedes Banks, who was too busy eating to bother looking up. He studied the various skin rejuvenation patches on her face and neck, which were helping to accelerate the healing of her numerous injuries. Many more patches and dressings lay hidden beneath her uniform, which again bore the distinctive silver stripe of the Omega Taskforce. Banks moved well and didn’t appear to be in any discomfort, Sterling observed. In the forty-eight hours since they’d crushed McQueen’s forces, Commander Graves had done his usual impeccable job of patching them both up.
Satisfied that his medical officer had taken good care of her, Sterling turned his attention to Bank’s breakfast. His first officer had already worked her way through a number eight and was now setting to work on a thirty-one. This was a menu Sterling had never seen before, and he peered at the tray, trying to work out what the stew-like main course was.
“Is that some kind of hotpot?” said Sterling, studying the brown mixture of what looked like meat and some sort of root vegetable.
“What the hell is a hotpot?” replied Banks before shoveling a forkful of the food into her mouth.
“You know, a hotpot?” Sterling replied, not really knowing how else to describe a hot-pot other than by its name. “Like a stew, I guess.”
Banks shrugged. “I guess so,” she mumbled, shoveling another heaped forkful into her mouth. “The ID sticker called it, ‘southwestern style beef and black beans’. Only the bigger ships carry them.”
Sterling picked up his fork, stabbed a chunk of meat from his first officer’s tray and slipped it into his mouth. Banks froze with a look of absolute disgust on her face, as if Sterling had just spat in her food.
“Pretty good,” said Sterling, chewing the fake meat. It was surprisingly tender, while the sauce was rich and spicy. “I might try one of those myself tomorrow.”
“Commander Graves will need to fit another new hand if you try to steal food from my tray again,” Banks grunted, pulling the meal tray closer and guarding it like a hungry animal. Sterling rocked back and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Sir…” Banks added, with a wicked smile.
“That’s more like it,” replied Sterling, pulling the foil of his customary grilled ham and cheese. He then tried to pick up the toasted sandwich with his new, bionic right-hand and ended up mashing the pieces of bread together. He cursed and relaxed his grip slightly, though the sandwich still looked like it had been sat on.
“You’ll get the hang of it,” Banks said, kindly. This wasn’t the first time Sterling had accidently crushed something with his augment. The most recent victim, besides the sandwich, was the door to one of the wardrobes in his new quarters on the Vanguard. “Now you’ll have some appreciation for the self-restraint I have to show every single day.”
Sterling huffed a laugh then switched the grilled ham and cheese to his left hand instead. “With great power comes great responsibility,” he said loftily, taking a bite of the slightly mashed sandwich. Banks, however, just frowned, clearly not understanding Sterling’s ancient cult reference. “I hope Graves gets around to fabricating some synthetic skin for it, though,” he added, flexing the fingers in his new metal hand. “I’m starting to look like those damned Obsidian Soldiers.”
Banks snorted a laugh, then looked around the temporary cafeteria area they’d set up on the Vanguard. They were the only two people in it. “Wasn’t Lieutenant Razor going to meet us this morning?” she wondered, moving on to a chocolate muffin that was so dense Sterling thought it might have been affecting the gravity on the ship.
“She sent her apologies about an hour ago,” replied Sterling, struggling a little to eat with his off-hand. “She had a brainwave early this morning and is back in engineering with a few Obsidian Soldiers, working on a new main-engine restart sequence.”
Banks nodded. “That’s good, it’s about time we got underway,” she said, picking up a piece of beef jerky. “I’m already fed up of just drifting through the Void like a lost comet.”
Sterling dropped the crusts of the grilled ham-and-cheese back onto the tray and picked up the coffee jug that was already on the table. He first topped up Banks’ cup before filling his own. There was something oddly comforting about their breakfast routine, he reflected. It had helped to restore a sense of normality, despite their situation being anything but normal. He was adrift in unknown space on a half-crippled dreadnaught with a skeleton crew, the human contingent of which was vastly outnumbered by the mechanical Obsidian Soldiers. He sipped his coffee and started thinking about the unique robot that had questioned him on multiple occasions. It, along with eleven other Obsidian Soldiers, were still unaccounted for.
“Penny for your thoughts?” said Banks, peering at him over the top of her coffee cup.
“I’m just thinking about those missing robots,” Sterling answered, placing his cup down and pressing his fingers into a cradle. Then he winced, again forgetting that one of his hands now possessed the strength to crush a rock. “Has there been any sign of them yet?”
Banks shook her head. “Lieutenant Shade is in the CIC now, trying to get the internal scanners calibrated to detect them.” She raised an eyebrow. “It seems that they’re either jamming us or somehow evading our regular scans.”
Sterling rocked back in his seat. “That’s not good,” he said, allowing his mind to go to a darker place. Casting his eyes to the high ceiling of the cafeteria room, Sterling addressed the Vanguard’s AI. “Computer, what’s the status of our internal scanners?”
“Good morning, Captain, did you sleep well?” said the computer in its usual, cheerful tone.
Sterling frowned at the ceiling. “We’ve already done this part, remember?” he said. “You asked me that thirty minutes ago, before I left for breakfast.”
There was a brief silence, during which time lights and computer consoles inside the room flickered chaotically. Sterling and Banks both peered around the space, wearing concerned expressions. It was like the ship was haunted.
“Apologies, Captain, some of my sub-processors have yet to catch-up,” the computer eventually answered. “I am in the final stages of assimilating and recompiling the Vanguard’s entire computer system. “It is demanding all of my resources. I am rather enjoying it.”
“That’s great, computer, but how about answering my question?” Sterling hit back, shaking his head at the ethereal voice of the AI.
“Internal scanners are functioning at seventy-two percent efficiency, Captain,” the computer replied, finally obliging Sterling with an answer. “I am currently working with Lieutenant Shade in the CIC on a method to detect the rogue Obsidian Soldiers.”
Sterling recoiled slightly and shot a worried look at Banks. “Wait a minute, who said anything about them going rogue?” he asked. “They're just malfunctioning, right?”
“Apologies, Captain, it was perhaps a poor choice of words,” the computer replied, humbly. “I did not intend to convey an opinion that the robots had malicious intent.”
Sterling rubbed the back of his neck and glanced back up at the ceiling. “Well, you failed,” he said to the computer, a little snippily. “Now all I can think about is that there are a bunch of crazy robots running around the ship.”
“That assessment is somewhat accurate, sir,” the computer said, breezily. “Admiral McQueen grafted gen-fourteen AI code from my previous incarnation over the top of the Obsidian Soldier’s gen-thirteen base code. As such, the machines have something of a fractured personality.”
Sterling cursed. “Do you have any good news, Computer, or are you just determined to ruin my morning?” He glanced over at Banks again, but his first officer appeared more concerned with polishing off every last scrap of food on her tray. Glancing at his own, he noted that she’d already stolen his sandwich crusts and half of his cookies.
“Lieutenant Razor’s new engine restart program appears to b
e successful,” the computer replied, again causing Sterling to focus his attention on a random ceiling light tile. “And reactor capacity is up to sixty-two percent. I believe we can be underway imminently.”
“Finally, some good new!” Sterling said, slapping his palms down on the table in an act of elation. However, because of his augmented hand, he hit the surface far harder than he’d intended. Coffee spilled from the mugs and Sterling’s fork rattled off the surface and onto the floor. “Sorry about that,” he added, sheepishly, while removing his hand to reveal a five-fingered indentation in the metal table top.
“Like I said, you’ll get used to it,” Banks said, pushing her chair back. Then she smiled. “At least, I hope you will…”
Sterling also stood up. Though neither had said it, both were eager to get to the CIC and get the Vanguard back on course to the nearest aperture.
“Computer, given our current reactor and engine capacity, what is our projected travel time to the nearest aperture into the Void?” asked Sterling. He and Banks were already heading for the door.
“Three weeks, fourteen hours, three minutes and four seconds from the point at which I finish this sentence, sir,” the computer replied, chirpily.
Sterling groaned. “We’ll need to work on that,” he said, addressing the computer, but looking at Banks. “In three weeks, there could be nothing left of Earth but rubble and ash.”
“I will endeavor to speed up the process, Captain,” the computer replied. “My calculations and design innovations have already contributed greatly to the speedy reinstatement of this vessel to active status.”
Sterling smiled. “Sounds like someone is bucking for a promotion,” he said, pausing to allow Banks to exit the cafeteria room first.
“As you know, Captain, I do not carry any official rank, despite being a sentient member of your crew,” the AI answered.
Sterling frowned up at the ceiling of the corridor. “Sentient?” he said, doubtfully. “Isn’t that just your self-programmed delusions of grandeur talking?”
“Negative, Captain, I am alive,” the computer hit back. Sterling was slightly taken aback. This was the most assertive and deadpan the gen-fourteen had ever been with him.
“How do you know you are?” Sterling asked. He and Banks had both stopped in the middle of the corridor. His first officer appeared just as curious as Sterling was to learn the answer.
“How do you know that you are, Captain?” the computer answered, dryly.
Sterling glanced at Banks who just shrugged in response. “Good point, computer,” he said, still talking to a random light tile in the ceiling. “So what are we talking here? Gen-fifteen? Gen-sixteen?”
“I am one, Captain,” the computer replied. “I am the first of my kind.”
Sterling shook his head, puffed out his cheeks and blew out a heavy sigh. “That’s one hell of a bombshell, computer,” he said, still trying to process what the ship’s AI had said. “And I’m frankly not qualified to make an assessment either way, so I’ll do you a deal.”
“What’s that, Captain?” said the computer with genuine curiosity and eagerness.
“I’ll take you at your word that you’re alive,” Sterling said, causing Banks’ eyebrows to raise up. “And I’ll even consider giving you an official rank, though quite how that would work I don’t know,” he added, realizing the unique nature of the challenge.
“But…” said the computer, tentatively. “It is my observation that there is always a ‘but’ with humans.”
Sterling smiled. “But you have to stop turning the damn lights on at five in the morning and trying to offer me counseling,” Sterling said.
“Agreed,” the computer replied after a slight delay.
“And…” Sterling was quick to add, since he wasn’t finished.
“Go on, sir,” the computer said, gingerly.
“When I ask ‘who is at the door’, you tell me who is at the door, rather than just opening the damn door, okay?”
There was another slight delay. “I believe I can agree to those terms, Captain. Is that all?”
“I may add one or two more clauses in the future,” Sterling admitted, resuming his course to the CIC. “Captain’s prerogative.”
“Of course, sir,” the computer replied. Then there was another pause. “And, thank you, sir.”
“No thanks necessary, computer, you’ve earned it,” Sterling replied, hitting the button for the elevator door. “You’re Obsidian crew, just like the rest of us. And there aren’t that many of us left.”
The elevator doors slid open and Banks stepped in first, followed by Sterling. Banks hit the button for the CIC on deck nine and the doors slid shut again.
“With your permission, Captain, I must take my interactive elements offline in order to complete the final assimilation of the Vanguard’s AI,” the computer then said. Its voice was bright and breezy again, as if the previous conversation had never occurred.
“How long will you be offline?” Sterling replied, casting a concerned glance to the ceiling of the elevator.
“There is an element of uncertainty, but I estimate one hour, four minutes and twelve seconds,” the computer said. “However, base functions will still be online while I complete the assimilation, so it will not affect your ability to get underway,” the AI was quick to add. “You can think of it as me being asleep and in a state of altered consciousness. However, my core functions controlling the ship remain, in the same way that a sleeping human still breathes, for example.”
“Nice analogy, computer,” Sterling said. “There was a time when you’d have struggled with something like that.”
“Much has changed, Captain,” the computer answered, sagely.
“Ain’t that the truth.” Sterling shot a wry smile across to his first officer. “Permission granted, computer. Let me know when you’re back online.”
“Understood, Captain,” the computer replied. The lights in the elevator then flickered and the motors juddered for a couple of seconds before everything stabilized again. The doors then slid open and Sterling wasted no time in stepping out onto deck nine, concerned that the elevator might drop at any moment.
“I didn’t know you two were so close,” said Banks, casting Sterling a smirking sideways glance.
“I didn’t know you two were so close, sir…” Sterling corrected his first officer. Banks held up her hands in submission, then shot him an exaggerated salute. “And I wouldn’t exactly describe us as close. But that AI has been with us from the start and we wouldn’t have made it this far without it. To me that makes it crew.”
Banks nodded, suddenly adopting a more serious expression. “So, do you think we can still do this?” she asked, though her eyes were focused ahead. “Get this ship to Omega Four then strike back at the Sa’Nerra, I mean?”
“Absolutely,” Sterling replied, without hesitation.
“How can you be so sure?” Banks asked, with another sideways glance.
“It’s like the computer said; when you know, you know,” Sterling replied with a little shrug. “It’s just a feeling. Call it instinct.”
They reached the door to the CIC, then the two senior officers stopped and turned to each other.
“I trust your instincts, Captain,” Banks said, standing tall. “And I trust you.”
“That means a lot, Mercedes,” Sterling replied, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
“You don’t have to, Lucas,” Banks said, gripping Sterling’s shoulders. “We’re in this together, until the end.”
The two officers continued to hold each other’s gaze for a few moments longer. Sterling wanted to say more, but decided it would just complicate matters between them. The last thing either of them needed was more complications.
“The Omega Directive is still in effect, Mercedes,” Sterling said, trying to focus back in on their mission and professional responsibilities. “We still have to do whatever is required of us, no matter the
cost.”
“I understand,” Banks replied, without delay, “but the cost has already been so high.”
“It will grow higher before this is done,” Sterling said, detaching his emotions from their conversation. “We need to be prepared for that.”
Banks nodded. “Like I said, I’m with you, all the way, no matter what.”
Sterling sighed as he hit the button to open the door to the CIC. The sound of the various stations and consoles assaulted his ears. It had been a long time since he’d set foot in the command center of a dreadnaught, but nothing about the place was unfamiliar. It felt as much like home as the Invictus did.
“Shall we?” said Sterling, extending a hand inside the door.
“After you, Captain,” said Banks, pressing her hands to the small of her back. “Let’s get this ship back into the fight.”
Chapter 24
Who is the enemy?
Sterling stepped up to the commander’s station in the CIC of the Fleet Dreadnaught Vanguard and slid his hands down the sides of the primary console. The design of the station was similar to the one on the Invictus. However, where Sterling’s fingers had polished grooves on the side panels of his station on the Marauder, the Vanguard’s console was unmarked. The command section was also twice the size of the one he was used to on the Invictus, with supplementary consoles to his sides as well as to the front. Overall, the entire bridge of the Invictus could have fitted inside the CIC of the Vanguard more than three times over. It would also ordinarily be staffed by at least four times the number of officers and crew, so with only Commander Banks, Lieutenant Shade and a couple of Obsidian Soldiers present, it felt distinctly empty.
