What was even more heart rendering was losing the AI friends she'd known for literally centuries. Slowly one by one they were slipping, becoming slower and slower as they taxed themselves to death with over thinking or cutting off higher functions to keep others alive. A few had committed virtual suicide to not be a continuous burden to the others. Others had rotted in virtual space, bloated with data they didn't need but couldn't seem to rid themselves of. A purge would cost them some of their sanity. Memory loss was like an itch they couldn't scratch, driving them mad. The one time a smart AI had tried to do it had driven it insane. She shuddered at that memory. He was still in the net, sleeping like a dragon, coiled, but ready to strike at the cybers and remaining AI with ferocious intensity when he was disturbed.
Which would be soon she realized. The admiral and his AI would stumble into them soon enough. When that happened the cold war they had maintained over the centuries would explode into real and virtual violence. She would need... no they would need to discuss this with the admiral before he dug into anything that could trip any further alarm.
“We're going to have to tell him about the others,” Emily said quietly. “I mean, he's going to find them soon. Awaken... the dragon.”
All eyes turned on her. She looked at the AI in their midst. Slowly they nodded. “It is agreed. The admiral's AI must be informed,” Yan Fu said quietly.
“I imagine Kiev has been trying to contact us right?” Irons asked as he made his way into the companionway. Only one lock was left before he entered central administration. He'd taken it slow, scanning thoroughly to make sure there were no more surprises, no more traps. The station cybers and AI had retreated or lapsed into invisibility again.
“I'd imagine so admiral,” Sprite said dryly. “I have remote access. No one is blocking me. I've found a short ranged transceiver and I've piggybacked a message to the shuttle.”
“And have they?” Irons asked after a moment. He was fairly certain he knew the answer.
“You could say that,” Sprite said dryly, clearly amused. “Want to hear it?”
The admiral shook his head. He was looking around, focusing on the admin area. It was cleaner, white and green walls, purple trim... corporate logo here and there... “No, not the entire thing. Cliff note version works,” he said.
“Usual ranting. Pleading. They should have known you couldn't of gotten a signal through the hull,” Sprite answered.
“Figures,” Irons said with a sniff. “Patch me through.”
“Live mike admiral,” Sprite said.
“This is Admiral Irons in the station. I've reached the outer door to central administration.”
“It's about time Irons. Sitrep?” the captain demanded.
“I've made contact with the surviving administrators. They have decided to work with me. At least I think so. We'll find out more when I go inside,” he said. He paused, not just to carry on the conversation, he could have course walk and talk at the same time. No it was so his sensors could scan administration thoroughly and then build up a map. He wanted to go in eyes open and aware of any potential dangers.
“You're not serious. There are people alive over there?” The captain asked sounding stunned.
“Several hundred. Oh you mean in authority? Yes. Cybers and a few AI. Some eighteen cybers and a few AI of various classes are sane. Or so they say, I can't really tell for certain. We've been contacted by them.” Irons was still debating how sane these people were. They obviously had some level of sanity, but who would willingly hook themselves up to a machine for the rest of eternity? And then let the machine fall apart?
“So what now?” The captain asked, sounding exasperated and impatient.
Irons grimaced and then told the testy captain he had made friends with the people on the station. There is recrimination in the captain's voice when he finished the report but the admiral ignored it. He'll deal with it later. He explained the situation as he stepped up to the hatch at the end of the companionway to the central administration core. There was a big image of the corporate logo on one side of the hatch and Antigua Prime written in bold above and below it. A sign nearby said authorized personnel only. He snorted at that. Authorized or not he was damn well going in.
“So that's that? All friends again?” The captain demanded. Irons pursed his lips, noting the light white over green coloring on the walls. This area was clean and relatively neat. There was little if any dust and debris. The hatch was in good repair. Obviously either a bot was still functional or no one had been around here for a very long time.
“They weren't the ones who killed the away team Captain. Quite the contrary. Most are old folks like me and the Warners. They and some AI friends. They are ready to help.” He tapped the hatch entry button. It went from red to green and then the door cycled open slowly. “I'm in admin. I'll give you a further report in an hour captain,” he said closing the link. He stepped within.
He looked around the administration complex. The lights were dim but he could see just fine with his enhanced vision. It was huge; there were two dozen doors on its three tiers. The tiers were offset, each further out than the one below. It formed a sort of amphitheater. He wasn't sure about the design, but it was set so he wasn't going to bother worrying about it. The center was sort of a stage, seats and command consoles were there.
Remarkably it was clean. Oh there was wiring and panels that were open, boards were hanging here and there, some soot marks and fire damage from what looked like an electrical fire, but overall it was in remarkably better shape than the rest of the station. He spotted a swarm of tiny cleaner bots. That was why, he thought with a nod. Each was a robotic insect that worked with its swarm companions to clean. They buzzed about, cleaning his foot prints. He looked at his boots and grimaced. Somewhere he'd tread in blood and organic bits.
“Sorry,” he muttered, lifting one boot to be cleaned, and then setting it down to lift the other.
He made his way to the stage and then settled in and got to work checking the station's systems out. Immediately he didn't like what he found but he and Proteus set to work, doing what they could to repair and route around some of the damage. After an hour he paused. Proteus continued using his right arm but he turned his thoughts to the bigger picture. He hadn't heard anything, hadn't gotten any help from anyone.
“How are the cybers doing?” he finally asked. He hadn't seen them in the net at all.
“Apparently still arguing,” Sprite answered dryly.
“Arguing? Over what?” he demanded.
“Over whether to help us or not,” she said in disgust.
“Oh?” He paused what he was doing to look up and refocus on her avatar. Now that he had a grasp of the station's systems he was working around the admin, patching in or tearing out systems. He had a growing list of parts to replace. With a station this size he was going to have a very long and lengthy list. “It would be nice to get some help,” he said.
“Sorry, I'm really not cut out for this sort of thing,” Sprite said with a helpless shrug.
The admiral frowned. Sprite was doing just fine repairing software and pointing out memory errors. “I'm not just talking about you. The cybers yes. Also the ship.”
“The cybers... admiral, I've found their bio's. Not many of them have any skills for this sort of thing,” Sprite reported.
“Oh?” Again he paused what he was doing to look at her again. “How the hell did they last this long then?” he demanded, suddenly confused.
Sprite shook her virtual head. “Luck and a dose of occasional sanity and pity from the insane.”
“You're kidding me,” he said.
She shook her virtual head once more. “No, unfortunately I'm not admiral. A majority of the eighteen cyber survivors are human resources or lawyers.”
“You...” He sat on the edge of a console, feeling his right arm move on its own as Proteus used it to repair the long range communication's console.
She nodded, cold sober. “Yes I'm
serious. An accountant... Do you want a brief?”
“If you can make it brief,” he said.
She smiled slightly. “Funny. Let’s see, let's start with those we know. The Berkhearts,” she flashed their holo bust images. The images turned a slow three sixty. “They are human resource managers and minor members of the station's command council.”
“Okay.”
“The Fu's. Only one is from old Earth by the way,” she said, replacing the Berkheart's with images of the Fu's. “Yan Fu and Hishina Fu. Corporate lawyers and the corporate voice on the board. Minor share holders as well. They are serving as the CEO and president of the board.”
“Lovely,” Irons sighed.
“Pacifists. Extreme pacifists. Vegans before they became augmented at this level,” Sprite continued. “Most of the board is of the same mindset.”
“It gets better,” he said rubbing his brow. “Others?”
“Templeton Myers, a scientist. He had a hand in the design of the station, though a minor role. Specialized in metallurgy. He like the Fu's have been in the station since it's design and construction. Doctor Myers has a rare medical condition that destroyed most of his organic body before it was stopped.”
The admiral winced. “Ouch.”
“It was a childhood defect. I can give you...”
Irons held up a restraining hand. “Pass. Next.”
“Averies, just that, Averies. He changed his name when he became an adult. A bit of a maverick dilettante. Amateur artist, self taught programmer, minor share holder, paralegal with a minor in research. He's one of the few people trying to handle the software side of things. Trying being the operative word.”
“Okay,” Irons said, making a move on motion.
“Moving on, the Stewards, Ron and Rachael. Rachael is a neobear by the way; Ron is a werebear human mod. They signed on as life support managers.”
“You'd think a couple like that would have been more interested in a ground side posting,” Irons mused.
“Stereotype Admiral,” Sprite replied with a sniff. Irons made a passing motion with his free hand and then shrugged. “I think the constant need to keep the station alive has kept them busy and focused. I'm surprised they are sane though,” Sprite said.
“It takes all kinds. If you break it down and take it one step at a time... some people are like that.”
“I'm surprised you are sane,” Sprite said. “Your plan... I wasn't sure of it at first.”
“At first,” Irons replied with a smile. “But now?”
“Now I think you are on to something. With a station like this in our corner...”
“Exactly. But we need to get everyone on board with the plan. Which is a problem.” He felt Proteus finish what it was doing and then signal him to move on.
“This checks out,” he said putting the panel back on. “At least for now.”
“Good. Can you do something about the computer interface? And the buffers?” Sprite asked.
The admiral nodded. “Our next stop. You mentioned the captain is a problem?”
“He refuses to allow anyone else over here apparently. I inquired casually when I made the last report. Quote, no. End quote.”
The admiral frowned. “Great.”
“Admiral, I can't blame him. It's not safe,” she said.
“I can't blame him either. Which is why we're working on that,” he sighed as he looked at the IO panel and the memory buffer nearby. It had been torched. “One step at a time,” he said bypassing it. “Let's find the security system. See if we can start closing some doors and trapping the Dilgarth and gangs. Or at least drive them away from the area.”
“Understood.”
He made the rounds around the room before stopping at the center dais once more. “That's everything here,” Irons said. Security had been a bit of a bust. Something had locked it out or dropped the controls into local. He did manage to locate the largest pockets of organics left on the station and drop a few doors. Not many though.
“Are you planning on doing that through the whole station admiral?” Sid asked, holo projection forming across from him. He turned and looked around, whistling a little. “Better,” he said. “Better than it's been in a couple of centuries,” he said nodding in approval.
“I know, and yes, I know this is just the tip of the iceberg. And yes, I know I've been doing this all wrong,” Irons said, sitting in a chair heavily. He rested his arm on a console. His ports opened, USB jacks immediately deployed. He felt Sprite and Proteus go to work as Defender hovered over his arm, forming a firewall.
“Going about this wrong? How so?” Sid asked amused.
“By trying to do everything on my own,” Irons said amused. “Yes I know, but I wanted intel. The best way to do it was here. But I need to track down some repair bots and some people.”
“I heard you have a lot of people over on the ship?” Sid asked suggestively.
“Yes. Over seven thousand people. The problem is they won't come over here if it's not safe,” Irons replied. “So we need to make it safe. Or at least safer.”
“Ah,” Sid said in understanding, crossing his arms in front of him. “I see.”
“Hey, I know spacers. We are all known for taking risks. But they are calculated risks. I can't blame the captain for holding his people back. They stuck their noses in with me the last time and ran into a buzz saw. He's not eager for a repeat performance.”
“I... see,” Sid said nodding.
“How goes the debate?” Irons asked, changing the subject. “We could use some of your help as well,” he said.
“That...” Sid looked embarrassed. “It's still going on. I thought it was over at the Fu's but apparently it's started up again. People are people, and most of us are bureaucrats. Many are lawyers. You know the deal, everyone's got to talk it to death before they do anything about it,” he sighed.
“I take it that's why this station is the way it is?” Irons asked.
Sid sighed sadly. “In a way. Part of the reason is we tied each other’s hands. And no one could do anything about it. Draco...” He looked suddenly afraid.
“The insane AI? We're going to have to do something about him soon,” Irons said. There was no way he was going to share quarters with an insane AI. Rampant AI was bad enough; one that was homicidal was quite something else. It could infect Sprite or the other AI. He was surprised it hadn't done that with the civilian AI already.
Sid frowned. “Draco is the only reason we are still here. He's not bad, not most of the time he's somewhat sane. He keeps to himself and makes what repairs he can with the bots and in the net. Most of the time he sleeps to conserve resources.”
“Like the storied dragons of long ago mythology,” Irons replied with a nod. “Go on,” he said.
“Draco... you have to understand, we... we were a manufacturing center. The premier one in the system. Hell in this part of the sector. But well... politics...”
“I heard it's a tricky situation,” Irons replied with a nod.
“You have no idea,” Sid sighed. “The corporation is or I should say was pacifistic in nature. So most of the board was the same. Many had great ideas for building utopias but didn't have the skills to pull it off. So they hired people like Draco,” he looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. “And others,” he said, still looking wary.
“I take it saying his name invites dangerous interest?” Irons replied. He who must not be named indeed. The AI might have a tag on his name, say it and it alerts him.
“You guessed it,” Sid sighed. “So we went with he who must not be named but he twigged on that as well.” They apparently didn't know how he could listen for that with a simple bot. Yes, they weren't programmers.
“Must be a Rowling fan,” Sprite replied with a smirk in the air.
“Huh?” Sid asked.
“Never mind. Very old fiction from Earth. Or should I say fantasy author. Anyway,” Irons said with an impatient wave. “I understand you had ideals but not
the means to implement them. So...”
“We hired those who had the skills but not necessarily the ideals. Which caused all sorts of problems when the Xeno war broke out.”
“Oh?”
“Many went off to help in the war effort. Others wanted the station to help as well. Which...” Sid shrugged helplessly.
“Cause a bone of contention in the board?”
“Yes. It didn't help that the corporation was nationalized. The board refused to make any weapons. Just nonmilitary goods and materials. Equipment for civilian use,” Sid said apologetically. “We were down to a skeleton crew after a while.
“Interesting,” the admiral said. He thought about it. Something didn't make sense. Why would a station of this level be largely abandoned even during the Xeno war? This area had been flooded with refugees... you would of thought the government would have put an effort into maximizing the usage of every factory it had right? Something didn't make sense.
“We didn't even want a security force but well...”
“Sanity won out in the end?” Emily interjected with a smile as her avatar formed next to her husband. He smiled a welcoming smile to her. She smiled back.
“You could say that,” he murmured. “Which was another problem,” Sid sighed, turning back to Irons.
“We don't need to air all our dirty laundry out all at once you know,” Myers said irritably. They looked up and then snorted.
“Are we going anywhere with this?” Averies asked.
“I take it you folks want to help now?” Irons asked looking at each of them.
“We're tired of arguing with the others. Let them argue. The time for action is now,” Averies said.
“Good,” Irons replied. “I... which one of you is the programmer?” he asked.
“I am,” Averies replied. He was one of the cybers who didn't have a body, just a set of eyes and a mouth. “You want me to help the AI?”
The admiral nodded. “Sprite and Proteus. Please if you will. I'd suggest working on the databases. Repairing indexes and making bots to create new ones is tedious...”
Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) Page 43
