Project Starfighter

by Stephen J Sweeney

  “You’re hardly in the position to be making demands,” Chris said.

  “I think you’ll find that I am. As I said, you can’t hurt me. There is no way to get any information out of me, and soon enough I will be rescued.” He smiled smugly.

  Chris racked his brain for a moment before he smiled himself. “Well, we can’t hurt you. But I think I know someone who can ...”

  ~

  “Okay, okay, I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”

  Chris was quite impressed with Overlook’s resilience. Athena had been working the man over for a good twenty minutes now. She would ask him a question, and then, when he refused to supply the answer, give him an electric shock, using a cattle prod. From where she had acquired the device, Chris wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was something to do with how she was able to project that image of her Greek Goddess persona. As Overlook had started to crack, she had pulled him to the floor and crammed her foot against his neck, pressing down hard. Though Overlook must have known that Chris and Athena would not go as far as to actually kill him, his own survival instinct had told him not to risk it.

  “You’re quite a handful,” Overlook said, getting shakily to his feet and stumbling to one of the transport’s seats. How he was able to sit in it, but not be affected by other physical things, Chris wasn’t sure. Maybe it was some sort of selective projection system. He was, after all, able to stand on the floor.

  Overlook considered Athena for a time, as he rubbed his neck. “I don’t recognise you as any of the aides. Who are you, and how did you manage to access the Corporation’s persona mainframe?”

  “My name is Athena,” she told him. “Although, you might know me better as the sentient Firefly.”

  Overlook gaped for a moment. “Figures,” he said. “You turn your back on the corporation that created you, and decide to start aiding criminals and terrorists.”

  “We’re not terrorists,” Chris said. “We’re freedom fighters.”

  “Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to,” Overlook answered.

  “Enough time-wasting,” Chris said. “I want to know a few things: where exactly in the Zetaman Facility Ursula Lexx is being held, what the level of security is, and how we can get in and out. I also want to know what happened to the six hundred-odd crew that used to serve on the Dodger. And finally, what WEAPCO is all about. How can a company that employs just six thousand people lay claim to such a large portion of the galaxy?”

  “Actually, I need to find out something first,” Sid interrupted. “We know who you are, but what I want to know is exactly what you are. You’re not human, are you? Not anymore.”

  “Smart guy,” Overlook said, smiling. He got to his feet and started to pace. “A part of me is still human, but most isn’t. What you see here, as you have found out, is a projection, an avatar. I can travel instantly to any persona-supporting computer system owned by the Corporation, whether that be a starfighter, battleship, transport, or room in an office block. I can move freely from one part of the galaxy to the other, if I wish, assuming almost any form or appearance I choose.”

  “So, why are you stuck here?” Phoebe asked.

  “The system broke down, stranding him here,” Athena said. “Both the source and the destination need to be in full working order, to allow the transfer to take place successfully. Otherwise, it’s like a bridge going out. You can’t make the crossing.”

  Overlook nodded. “I was awaiting the arrival of repair drones to fix the problem at my end when you four showed up and terminated the ship’s core systems.”

  “What happens if the bridge collapses halfway through the transfer?” Phoebe asked.

  “It can’t,” Overlook said. “I’m either there or still here. It’s atomic; the transfer will either complete fully or not at all.”

  “Okay, I’m confused,” Chris said. “Why don’t you just get them to unplug you from the machine you’re hooked into, so you can return home? Like an emergency ejection or something?”

  Overlook stopped pacing. “Unplug me?”

  “Yes,” Chris said, glancing to the other three. “Unplug you from the machine you’re wired into, and bring you back home.”

  Overlook looked incredulous. “You seem to have misunderstood me, Mr Bainfield. I am not wired into any such machine. This is me, this is all I am. I have no body, no true physical form, not anymore. My consciousness is all that remains.”

  “You’re ... it’s ...” Chris was stunned, and found the words too hard to come by. Overlook had transferred his entire consciousness into WEAPCO’s systems? He had no physical form left? He could be anywhere, at any time, live forever, and do almost anything? “You’ve turned yourself into a god,” Chris said.

  Overlook smiled. “Very good, Mr Bainfield. And there was me thinking that I would have to explain everything to you.”

  “And you’re not the only one, either, are you?” Chris asked, his heart starting to thump hard in his chest. “That’s why WEAPCO employs so few people. You don’t need anyone else. You’re all living in some virtual reality or existence or whatever, where you can do as you please.” He looked at Athena. “That’s where you got that shock prod from. You can just ... pull it out of thin air. It’s the same thing with all of them.” He nodded at Overlook.

  Overlook put his hands together and applauded Chris at that moment, while Sid and Phoebe only stood quietly where they were.

  “Stop patronizing me,” Chris said in irritation.

  Overlook only laughed and continued clapping, until Athena threatened the man with the rod.

  “Did you know this?” Sid asked Athena.

  “No,” Athena said. “I swear.”

  “She’s telling the truth,” Overlook said. “When she was created, we did not supply her with all the information about the organisation.” He stared at the table in front of him for a moment. Reached a hand out, waggled his fingers. He then sat back, and swore lightly under his breath. He looked as though he had been expecting something to happen.

  “Are you really an organisation?” Chris asked.

  “No, not really.” Overlook said. “The so-called ‘Wade-Ellen Asset Protection Corporation’ is merely a front. What lies beneath is essentially a grand posthuman society. In it, we can be anything and everything. We need not answer to anyone, can live out all of our dreams, and are free from the tyranny of concepts such as money and economy. And because we are not dependent on mortal forms, such as bodies, we cannot actually die. Some of us call it the Eternal Engine.”

  “When was this Engine conceived?” Sid asked.

  “Around a hundred years ago, on Earth,” Overlook said.

  Chris frowned. “So, everyone else on Earth just gets on with their lives as normal? Under the control of WEAPCO, I mean?”

  “Oh no, of course not,” Overlook said. “We had them all killed decades ago.”

  “But ... the other WEAPCO employees?” Chris started. “We’ve seen them on TV, in buildings, in cars and hovers.”

  “The ‘WEAPCO employees’ are nothing but avatars, like myself,” Overlook explained. “And to a lesser extent, that thing over there.” He nodded at Athena. “Each of them is merely one of our aides. The Lower Circle, as they are sometimes referred to. They assume forms and identities, and project themselves in the relevant spaces, to give the illusion of a larger-than-life workforce. But no, none of them are real, and haven’t been for many years. This is how we run the galaxy, by transmitting our consciousnesses and avatars around all systems connected to the Eternal Engine.”

  Chris was stunned, unable to say a word. He looked at Phoebe and Sid, who were both as taken aback. He tried to ask more questions but found himself tongue-tied, his thoughts failing to align.

  “You ... but ... who ... what?” he managed.

  Overlook continued of his own accord, “We, that is to say the higher society, determined that the lower classes were basically surplus to requirement. And what do you need workers for anyway, when you can use machines instead? If you actually did
some proper research, you would discover that it has always been the upper classes that have supported the lower, not the other way around. The Eternal Engine is ours, as is Sol. We created WEAPCO to keep the lower classes of other star systems away from us, and to remind them of their place in society.”

  Sid suddenly bristled. “You created a post-scarcity society and chose not to share it, while also using it as a means to extend suffering and poverty to the rest of the galaxy?!”

  Overlook folded his arms, nodding.

  “You bastard!” Sid cried. He looked as though he would punch Overlook, if he were able. Overlook simply shrugged, totally indifferent.

  “But ... why?” Phoebe asked.

  “Why? What do you mean, ‘Why?’, you silly little girl?” Overlook exclaimed, his face darkening. “I’ll tell you why, because we can; because it’s our right.”

  “Your right?” Chris asked. “It is your right to have dominion over everyone and everything in the galaxy? How do you figure that?”

  “Simply because others don’t deserve it. Do you believe that everyone has the right to power, to money, to eternal life? Not that we have any real use for money; we only use it to keep everyone else in check. But, no, you don’t deserve those things. Only a select few do. Not everyone possesses the same intellect, aptitude, and command of respect. Those that do take the top places in society, and the rest sit beneath. That’s how it has been, how it is, and how it always will be.”

  “I think there might be quite a few that would have something to say about that,” Chris said.

  “Such as Mal?” Overlook asked. “Could you imagine what might happen if a lunatic such as that gained access to a system that could, as you so elegantly put it, turn him into a god?” He snorted. “You think we’re bad, Mr Bainfield ...”

  “Then why don’t you just destroy the system?” Sid asked.

  Overlook started laughing. “And kill ourselves? Mr Wilson, the first thing one does when one discovers the fountain of youth isn’t to piss in it!”

  “Wait a minute,” Phoebe said. “If you are all gods, living the high life on Mount Olympus, who is your Zeus?”

  “Lance Skillman,” Athena answered, before Overlook could. “I’m assuming he created the machine that houses your consciousness?”

  “Actually, no,” Overlook said. “That would be a man called Mark Titus. He created the machine, initially intending it to be used by the great minds of our times, so that they could live forever. Keeping them alive would be of great benefit, you see; culturally and scientifically. Imagine never again having to lose such people as Shakespeare, da Vinci, Hawking, Einstein, Darwin, Turing, Hubble ... Imagine being forever able to consult their great minds. Wonderful idea, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yes,” Chris conceded. “The human race has lost inspirational people throughout its history. But they have lived on through their work – their discoveries, their writing, their books, their theories and their research. They already have immortality, and we’re able to benefit from them through what they have left us.”

  “But to have the actual person,” Overlook pressed, “the actual man there for you to speak to. Would it not be a great thing? Maybe you’re thinking that they could be replaced by a machine, by a simulation. But it wouldn’t be them. And I will admit that, for all our AIs and machines, humans do it better.”

  Chris glanced at Athena. “Machines have their place and are useful.”

  Overlook looked between Chris and Athena for a time, as though sensing or seeking out something there between them. He made no comment and continued on. “Titus actually hated machines. He thought that they would at some point rise up and turn against their creators – that they would conclude that all organic life was either redundant or immoral, and should be eliminated. That’s why he stipulated that any machine should be kept no more intelligent than a pocket calculator; you give it instructions and it follows them, no questions asked. To quote the CEO: they should remain AIs and never become pure Is.”

  Athena scowled at that, clenching her fists. She made no comment, however.

  “Why did you build Athena?” Sid asked.

  Overlook cast a disapproving look in Athena’s direction. “It, or rather, the Firefly, was a gift to Skillman’s sister. She always wanted to fly, to explore the galaxy, to see things. She especially wanted her mode of transport to be weaponised and powerful. We constructed a special starfighter, capable of matching such requirements. Part of the design was an advanced AI system that could act as a companion and adapt to the needs and desires of the pilot. The damn thing was never supposed to evolve the way it has.”

  “So then why the need for a helmet?” Chris asked.

  Overlook scowled, seemly irritated. “Skillman’s sister at one time entertained the notion of transmitting her consciousnesses into a corporeal form, to heighten the experience. We advised against it, though the option was still there in the final Firefly design if she wanted to make use of it.”

  “So, you sometimes put yourselves into actual bodies?”

  “No, don’t be ridiculous,” Overlook said. “That would make us mortal, weak, and vulnerable.”

  “But it sounds as though you have the means to do so.”

  “The technology exists, yes. But again, we never use it.”

  Chris rubbed his eyes. This was all too much, it was mentally exhausting. They needed to do only two things from here on out – find Ursula and, with her and Phoebe together, to fight against the Corporation.

  “Get the information we need from him and then lock him up, or confine him to memory or something,” Chris instructed Athena, getting up and preparing to exit the transport. “Just ensure that he can’t escape or kill himself.”

  “Mr Bainfield,” Overlook said. “Supposing you defeat WEAPCO, what will you do about Mal?”

  “What about him?” Chris asked.

  “As I said, WEAPCO is one thing, but Mal is another. Are you ignoring the elephant in the room.”

  “Mal’s dead,” Chris said.

  “He’s been thought to have been killed before, and has always come back. Why do you think his group are known as the Immortal League?”

  “He’s dead,” Chris repeated. “I saw his fighter explode with my own eyes, and he didn’t eject. Mal’s no longer a problem; he won’t be coming back from this one.”

  “You seem very sure of that,” Overlook said, as Chris started out of the transport.

  Chris hovered briefly in the doorway before responding to Overlook. “As you should be, Mr Overlook,” he said.

  ~

  Overlook did not need very much more encouragement from Athena to divulge the information that Chris was after, enabling the group to cross-check the details against the records held on the Dodger’s and the executive transport’s databases. Satisfied, Chris called a meeting on the Dodger’s bridge.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Sid asked.

  “We’re going to take the Dodger out of silent running,” Chris said.

  “And just fly straight into WEAPCO space?”

  “Yes,” Chris said. “A WEAPCO freighter entering WEAPCO space should be largely ignored. An unknown freighter approaching a WEAPCO complex would be viewed as highly suspicious and would probably be blown to bits before it had a chance to deploy a docking tube. Athena can talk to the station’s systems and convince it that we’re friendly. She can tell them that we are there to deliver supplies or something.” He looked at Athena for confirmation.

  “I can do that,” she said. “But we will still have to work quickly. The AIs will likely cross reference all their records and will spot that we aren’t scheduled to be there.”

  “There’s also a good chance that WEAPCO will know that the Dodger has been missing for some time,” Sid added. “They’ll flag it up immediately when it’s seen. They’re sure to suspect by now that either we or a mercenary group took it.”

  “That could raise the alarm far sooner than we hope,” Chris acknowledged. �
�One thing’s for certain, though – once we’re in, we can’t leave without Ursula; we need to end this thing now.”

  “How many of us are going?” Sid asked.

  “All of us, except Athena,” Chris said. “I don’t think your avatar system can extend that far, can it?”

  “No,” Athena said. “I’m bound to the ship. I could fly over to the station with you and tap into the system there, to extend my presence, but I can’t see it as being of any real value. I wish there was something more I could do.”

  “You can watch for our return to the Dodger, and jump the freighter out of the system as soon as we’re back aboard,” Chris said. “Sid, Phoebe, we’re going to arm ourselves for a fight. We’ll take the executive transport over; that will make things seem a little more legitimate.”

  “What about the Manx?” Sid asked.

  “Too small, and, as with the Dodger, it risks being tagged as a threat the moment it’s sighted.”

  “Shouldn’t one of us stay here?” Sid asked. “Other than Athena, I mean?”

  “No,” Chris shook his head. “We all need to be there. I want Phoebe to do what she can to take control of the facility, but if something goes wrong, we’ll need to resort to guns. If that’s the case, the more the better.”

  Sid nodded. “We’ve got plasma rifles with shield disruptors, so that should be enough.”

  “Have we got enough ammo to take on an army of drones and bots?” Phoebe asked.

  “We must make do with what we have,” Chris said.

  “We’re going in there to save Ursula, but what about anyone else?” Phoebe then asked. “Overlook didn’t say there was anyone else being held there, but we can’t assume that there won’t be.”

  Chris considered it for a moment, before coming to a swift conclusion. “Your sister is our objective. If there is anyone else there, we’ll just have to go back for them later. We can’t risk losing Ursula, for the sake of rescuing a few random others. I know that sounds terrible,” he added hastily, “but that’s just the way it is.”