When Ships Mutiny

by Doug Farren

  Smiling, Bill leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “You remember! Good.”

  There was something odd about the way Bill moved – something not quite natural.

  “I remember,” Fernando nodded. He sounded more confident, more sure of himself. “Things are still a bit hazy but it’s rapidly becoming clearer. This is a lot more realistic than I expected.”

  Bill waved his hands around. “This? This is nothing. We’ve learned it’s a good idea to introduce things slowly to new arrivals. Doing otherwise puts you at risk of neural overload.”

  “I understand.”

  “According to your records,” Bill said, glancing at the monitor, “you did quite well in the battle simulations. You should be able to quickly adapt.”

  “I was addicted to military games – still am I guess.”

  “You’ve progressed very well and your integration is nearly complete. Now that you remember, I’ll ask one more time – how do you feel?”

  Fernando closed his eyes. “I feel different,” he said after a moment of reflection. “There’s no pain – no discomfort. Just an odd … I don’t know … disconnected sort of feeling. Overall though I feel great.”

  “Excellent!” Bill replied, returning to a normal sitting position. He placed his arms on the desk in front of him and intertwined his fingers. “Do you remember why this place was created?”

  “Sure. It allows us to connect to our humanity. It gives us a place where we can remember who and what we are.”

  “And that is the essence of what this place is,” Bill replied. “In here, you can talk to and interact with the others. But before I allow you out of this office, I have to cover some ground rules first.”

  “You’re not a volunteer are you?” Fernando suddenly asked. He had been carefully watching Bill’s movements and was finally able to figure out why he seemed so unnatural.

  “No I’m not. I’m linked in using a standard telepresence interface. Since you’re directly wired into the system, your experience is far more realistic than mine.” Spreading his arms, Bill asked, “Tell me, how big is this room?”

  Fernando glanced around. “I would guess –”

  “Don’t guess!” Bill suddenly raised his voice. “Think! Ask the question in your mind and tell me, how big this room is.”

  Fernando was silent for a moment then his face lit up as if he just had a revelation. “It’s exactly five meters long and five meters wide. How …”

  “Excellent!” Bill interrupted again. “That’s a very good sign.”

  Fernando sat in his chair with a smile on his face. Like a child who had just learned how to use a ruler, he was mentally measuring the exact dimensions of everything in the room. Noticing that Bill was staring at him, Fernando brought himself back to reality and said, “You mentioned some ground rules.”

  “There aren’t many, but they will be enforced either by the system or by the others currently using it. Remember, most everyone you meet here is a volunteer. Treat them as such.”

  “I will.”

  “You can pretty much do anything your heart desires with only a few exceptions,” Bill explained. Ticking off each item as he spoke he continued, “Performing major alterations of the environment without permission from the others who might be affected is considered rude and unacceptable. Even though you can’t be hurt, engaging in violent behavior is strictly forbidden. Once you become proficient, you can create other experiences as long as you don’t violate the terms of your contract. Understood?”

  Fernando nodded his head.

  “Good. This is a place for you to come and relax – to get away from what you’ve volunteered for. The idea is to keep things as realistic as possible, so don’t try to do the impossible. You can, but it’s frowned upon. If you have any questions concerning how things work around here, just ask anyone. Do you have any questions for me at the moment?”

  “Why am I here instead of on the ship? Shouldn’t I be learning the ship first?”

  Bill got up and walked around the desk. Fernando took the cue and stood up. Bill walked over to the door and grabbed the handle.

  “It may not feel like it, but you’re already aboard your ship. You’re not yet fully integrated, which explains why you are unaware of the ship,” Bill explained. “Remaining in an induced coma for too long can cause neurological damage so as soon as your integration had progressed far enough this interface was activated. It will give you the chance to become comfortable with the interface. There are a lot of things you can do here but you haven’t learned how yet.”

  “Such as?”

  Bill cocked his head to one side as he thought of an example. He reached behind him and thumped the desk with his fist. “How real does this feel to you?”

  Fernando took a step forward and hit the desk. “It’s solid. Feels real enough to me.”

  “Think about that for a minute,” Bill said, turning once again to the door.

  Fernando hesitated then asked, “If I’m already in my ship, then …”

  Bill put a comforting hand on Fernando’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Your body is being well cared for.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “One hundred and sixty-five days,” Bill replied. “Even with modern medicine it takes a long time for neurons to grow. Enough talk for now. Several of your classmates have already arrived.”

  Bill turned the doorknob and opened the same door Fernando had used to enter the room. On the other side was a grassy park with widely spaced trees providing areas of shade from the warm sun. A gentle breeze caused the leaves to generate a light rustling sound. Ten meters away, a group of people were gathered for a summer picnic. The smell of barbecued hamburgers and hotdogs filled the air.

  “What the hell?” Fernando spat out as the scene practically bowled him over.

  Bill laughed out loud as he explained, “You can sometimes forget where you are. Eventually, you’ll find all this to be normal and expected. Let me introduce you to a few long-time volunteers.”

  Fernando turned around. He was expecting to look back into the office but instead saw nothing but gently rolling hills as far as his eyes could see. He looked up into the blue sky and caught sight of a couple of birds against a backdrop of wispy clouds. “This is going to take some getting used to,” he thought to himself.

  Bill led the way to the group of picnickers. As they approached, several of them turned their heads in their direction and waved. “Cipher!” one of them yelled out using Fernando’s call-sign instead of his name.

  “Snowman!” Fernando replied, walking over and grasping the extended hand. Snowman was Doug Carman’s call-sign. He and Cipher had become close friends while they were in training. Looking his classmate over with a critical eye he continued, “You don’t look any different.”

  “Neither do you,” Snowman replied. “Isn’t this fantastic? It feels real. It’s nothing like using the telepresence interface.”

  “Welcome to Homestead,” a muscular black man said as he walked up to them. Extending his hand, he continued, “You must be Cipher. I’m Tanglefoot. Want a hamburger?”

  A tall, thin, black man appeared from behind Tanglefoot. “Glad to see you made it,” he said.

  “I’m surprised your doubted me Stick-pen,” Fernando replied. Turning to Tanglefoot he said, “It smells good. Will it taste the same?”

  This caused several of those within earshot to snicker. “Give him a break!” Tanglefoot chastised them. “Remember what it was like the first time you were here.” Turning back to Fernando, he continued, “Try a bite and you tell me.”

  Fernando looked at Doug who’s only response was to indicate that he should take a bite. Grabbing a burger off the table, Fernando looked it over and then took a small bite. His face lit up and he immediately took a much larger one.

  Through a mouthful of food he managed to say, “This is really good!”

  A small, almost boyish individual approached and said, “And th
e good thing about it is that you can eat as many as you want and never gain a single pound.” Extending his hand he added, “I’m Crapshoot.”

  “Cipher.”

  “Cipher it is,” Crapshoot replied. “Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of this bunch.”

  As Fernando wandered away, Bill was approached by another who asked, “How’s he doing Bill?”

  They watched Fernando’s back as he melted into the crowd. “He’s doing very well – much better than most.”

  “He still seems confused by the V-world.”

  “I was just as confused when I first experienced it,” Bill admitted. “And I’m not a volunteer. He’s getting the full effect. You didn’t laugh at me back then if I recall.”

  “Nope, and I won’t laugh at him either. He’s in for a tough life.”

  “Well,” Bill replied reaching for a hotdog. “It’s what you volunteered for isn’t it?”

  Chapter 3

  During the early years of the Evendi war, humans found themselves outnumbered and at a distinct technological disadvantage. Evendi ships were better in nearly all categories. They were faster, capable of higher acceleration, and mounted superior weapons. Several colony planets fell before the human war-machine was able to build ships capable of taking on an Evendi battleship. From that point on, the war became a stalemate.

  Each time one of the two warring parties built a better ship, the other quickly followed suit. War has a tendency to push technology to extreme limits and the destructive capability of the warships being deployed by each race continued to increase. It didn’t take long before ships were being built that were hampered by the delicacy of their crew. Accelerate too fast, and the crew is rendered unconscious. Radiation shielding to protect them against radiation-based weapons added weight which impacted maneuverability. The crew had become a liability and was placing limits on continued improvement.

  Heavy automation was used to reduce the number of people needed to operate a ship. To reduce the shielding and life support requirements, the crew was jammed into a small space inside the much larger bulk of the ship. Even so, a large amount of excess machinery was still devoted to protecting and servicing the crew leaving less room for equipment devoted strictly to combat operations. A solution was needed.

  Each side experimented with robot ships. Even with advanced computer technology, an experienced captain could easily defeat them. Remote-controlled drones were tried, but the quality of the telepresence needed to efficiently operate the ship during combat could not be achieved. The search for a better solution continued.

  It is believed the Evendi were the first to merge a living brain with a heavily automated ship. Only a minimal life support system was required; enough to sustain a brain without a body. This left plenty of room for weapons, power plants, and propulsion systems.

  The first known Evendi warship utilizing a disembodied brain actually contained the brains of three individuals. The ships had amazing maneuverability and could pack a lot of power into a relatively small package. Human military designers were already working on the same concept and it didn’t take long before a human version of such a warship was built.

  Fernando had volunteered to have his brain merged with a warship. He knew the risks were high but the potential benefits were beyond comprehension. He was well aware of the fact that 15 percent of the volunteers never made it out of the operating room. An additional ten percent went insane after being merged. The survivors would face death in space – they were, after all, warships.

  The benefits, however, were incredible. Once separated from their bodies, the volunteers would become virtually immortal. The ships they inhabited allowed them to travel at faster than light speeds to any destination they desired. They had instant access to any piece of information available throughout the vast interconnected data network. They could communicate instantly with any of the other ships. Their senses were expanded to allow them to experience reality like no other living being thought possible. The volunteers would be transformed into near god-like beings.

  * * * * *

  Cipher instantly awoke from his electronically induced coma. He found himself sitting in front of a complex but familiar control console. He quickly scanned the console instantly determining his exact status. It was then that he noticed the high-priority call waiting on the command channel. He opened the link and said, “This is Cipher, proceed.”

  The face of Bill Rogers appeared on the communications monitor. “Cipher, report your current status,” Bill ordered in an official tone.

  Cipher, aka Fernando, replied, “All systems operational but not fully powered. Critical loads are being carried by station power. I’m unable to start any of my reactors because there’s no fuel in my tanks. Weapon systems are present but appear to be disabled and the biological support system is fully functional. Is that the report you’re interested in or would you rather have me say I’m feeling very good.”

  Bill chuckled. “Both actually. Are you ready for a pop quiz?”

  “The Scholen psych test?”

  “A variation,” Bill replied. “One that isn’t kept in any database you have access to.”

  “Proceed,” Cipher replied, knowing it was necessary before he could be declared fit for duty.

  Cipher was well aware of the precautions that had to be taken when waking a ship the first time. If the merged brain was insane, there was no telling what it might do. Some were too far gone to respond in any way. Others perceived everything as a threat.

  The modified Scholen psychological profile exam was transmitted to Cipher. It contained 1,750 questions designed to thoroughly analyze the psychological profile of a merged mind. One of the advantages of being disembodied was the ability to concentrate on a single task for as long as necessary without fatigue. Cipher opened the file and began.

  Even though he had access to a computer system that could easily have responded to the psych test questions in a fraction of a second, he knew that doing so was forbidden. It would also have been detected. It took him five hours to complete the exam and another hour for the results to be analyzed. While he waited, he explored his new body.

  The ship he was merged with was a Vengeance-class battle cruiser. Measuring 360 meters in length, Cipher was a 220,000 ton, fusion powered, armament-packed, fighting machine. His main armament consisted of eight high-power lasers and four missile tubes capable of launching a variety of standard anti-ship missiles as well as several different types of probes.

  Six fusion reactors gave him all the power he needed to operate his weapons as well as his sublight and faster-than-light drives. His skin was a 15 centimeter thick reinforced carbon-carbon composite interwoven with a synthetic diamond heat transfer grid. Sixteen small laser batteries provided an effective defense against missiles. Six-hundred, small, multi-purpose maintenance robots, controlled by a separate computer, constantly crawled around inside his body performing routine maintenance and on constant standby to repair battle damage.

  With his systems at minimal power, there wasn’t much of anything Cipher could do. He took control of one of the robots and explored.

  “Cipher, do you copy?” Bill’s transmission interrupted Cipher’s examination of his inactive stardrive.

  “I copy Bill. So what’s the news – am I sane or not?”

  “You’ve been declared fit for duty,” Bill announced. “You are next in line to be fueled. We’ll begin your interface training after you have fuel in your tanks. In the meantime, I’m going to transfer you to another V-world so you can join the rest of your squadron for a briefing.”

  “Ready.”

  The control panel vanished. Cipher now found himself sitting at a large, oval, redwood conference table along with the rest of his classmates. He was dressed in a stylish black and silver uniform complete with captain’s insignia and shiny boots. Cipher looked around the room to see who else had made it. They had all been given their call-signs, or ship names, while still in indoctrination.
He knew them all.

  Going around the table from his right was Hatchet, a jovial Spaniard who had once bragged he could throw a hatchet better than anyone else. Stick-pen, the tall, lanky black-skinned Russian was next. To his right sat Fidget, Cipher’s closest friend. Even in the virtual world his hands seemed to be in a perpetual state of motion. He smiled and waved as their eyes briefly met.

  Next to Fidget was Snowman, born in the United States but a resident of Denmark when he volunteered. Next to Snowman, sitting quietly, back straight, his left hand lying gracefully atop his right, was Grasshopper. No one really understood why a Chinese monk would volunteer and Grasshopper refused to say why. Rerun, with his love of old television programs, had given Grasshopper his call-sign saying he reminded him of a character in an old martial arts series.

  Rounding out the group was Cowboy, an honest to goodness rancher from the State of Texas. Next to him was the olive-skinned Egyptian now known as Genius. He had been given his call-sign because of his seemingly incessant desire to state the obvious (“It’s raining outside.” – “No kidding Genius”). Finally, coming back to Cipher’s left was Rerun, the youngest of the group.

  Cipher noted with sadness that five of his original classmates were not present.

  An oriental man dressed in an admiral’s uniform entered the room and announced, “May I have your attention please!”

  The few side conversations that were taking place ended and the room became quiet. The Admiral stood at the head of the table and took a minute to allow his gaze to pass over everyone in the room. It was immediately obvious to everyone else that the Admiral was not a volunteer.

  “I am Admiral Sun Lee. I would like to congratulate the newly christened members of squadron 112. As soon as your training is complete, you will be taking part in a very special mission to reclaim the colony world of Granitus.”

  Cipher was surprised as well as elated. This was a major change in strategy indicating the military’s growing confidence in their ability to combat the enemy. Up until now, the focus was on safeguarding the colony worlds from attack. Evendi forces were intercepted and engaged when they were detected entering human space. This was the first time the military would attempt to reclaim a captured world.