by Andrew Beery
“Well,” I heard someone else say in a loud stage whisper, “I’d say his memory is back.” The voice belonged to my longtime friend, Commander Ben First.
I released the good doctor and looked around the med bay from my position on, what I assumed was a recovery bed. I recognized everyone in the room. That was in and of itself refreshing. I could see Admiral Cat Kimbridge, Lieutenant JJ Hammond, Captain Kirkland and one final individual… a black carbon-fiber barrel with several rows of lights circling the upper third of his body.
“Fred, we made it buddy!” I said to the Ashtoreth AI that had saved my life.
The barrel floated forward. His normally animated surface lights were subdued and barely moving. If I didn’t know better, I would swear the little guy was depressed.
“What’s up little buddy?”
“You are my friend,” the AI said softly. “My first and only friend… and I killed you.”
I laughed and swung my feet over the edge of the bed. As there were ladies present, I was relieved to see that somebody had dressed me after I had been decanted from the bio-generator.
“Don’t sweat it little guy. Some of my best friends,” I looked pointedly at JJ, “have killed me several times. I guess I just bring out the best in people.”
“I am not a ‘people.’ I’m just an artificial intelligence.”
I saw both Cat and Ben stiffen and then relax. I doubt many people would have noticed.
“Fred, there is something you need to understand about the Galactic Coalition of Planets,” I said slowly. “All sentient life is considered sacred. It doesn’t matter if its organic or semiconductor based. Some of my best friends are AIs. Some were born that way… some transitioned from fully organic to silicon-based. All are blessed by the Creator and endowed with the God-given capacity to love and be loved. You are not a second-hand citizen while on this ship. You are never and will never be ‘just an artificial intelligence’. You have been and always will be… my friend.”
“Then you forgive me?”
“Little buddy, there was never anything to forgive.”
Fred’s lights, which had been dim and relatively static, began to flash a little faster and a little brighter.
***
Over the course of the next few days, I learned that it had taken both the Yorktown’s AI and WhimPy-101 a week to reintegrate my memories. In fact, I was told it was a minor miracle that they had be able to accomplish the feat at all. It seemed I owed Catherine Kimbridge my thanks yet again. The AIs were only successful because the WhimPy platform had access to the massive library specific to the human brain created by a Heshe named Yarin. He had developed the database to help him reconstruct Cat’s memories many years ago. Had a similar situation occurred to one of the Ashtoreth members of my team… and it was unlikely that anything could have been done… as there was no corresponding Ashtoreth database.
Frankly, I was still a bit baffled by the whole thing. I had memories of NOT having memories. It’s a strange feeling to remember not remembering your name.
Perhaps the biggest disappointment was my failure to remember the woman that I love. Janice Pulaski had been a big part of why I get up in the morning. Keeping the universe, she lives in, safe was job one in my book. It hadn’t always been that way… and for a brief period, while my noggin was scrambled… I had forgotten how important she was to me. I was not happy that I had forgotten her… however briefly.
Life was short… even for a member of the Infinity Brigade. I didn’t want to waste any more of it by living without her at my side. It was about time I made an honest man of myself and an honest woman of her.
Now, since we are talking about honesty, I have to be honest. Having made a decision to do a thing… and then finding the courage to actually do it… well, they are not one in the same.
I recognized that I did not want to live my life without the good doctor in it. To that end, I had decided to ask her for her hand in marriage. On the surface, it seemed simple. All I had to do was ask her. She would say yes… and that would be that. Simple.
I shared my plans with JJ Hammond and Admiral Kimbridge in the officer’s lounge that afternoon. Cat asked me how I intended to propose.
Now, I am aware that many marriage proposals typically involved elaborate rituals and whatnot. I also knew that such rituals were not needed in this instance as I knew how I felt about Janice and she knew how she felt about me. I said as much.
I had expected warm smiles and congenial congratulations. So much for expectations.
Cat had to order JJ to stop laughing and then she proceeded to threaten to revoke my newly reinstated flight status because I was apparently not right in the head. It was explained to me, in no uncertain terms, that I would arrange a suitable environment for said marriage proposal… and that if what I arranged did not meet with the Admiral’s approval that she would make it her goal in life to teach me the errors of my ways.
You have to understand, Cat Kimbridge is half my size, but if there is a soul in the universe, besides Janice, that can scare me with threats… it’s Cat Kimbridge. Now, I’m no dummy in the brain box department… especially now that they put it back together for me. That said, I’m no stranger to making mistakes. I’ve had my share of ‘what in the world was I thinking?’ moments. This was apparently one of those moments.
Fortunately, in this particular case, my newly minted brain began firing on all cylinders again. I realized that the smart money never bets against Admiral Catherine Kimbridge. I also realized that the only winning move here was to acknowledge my shortcomings and embrace the ‘suggestions’ being offered.
The problem with all of this was that I had liked my old plan. I had every confidence in my simple and direct approach. I was comfortable with it. All my military training had reinforced the belief that simple plans had fewer intrinsic failure points. The moment all this other stuff got added into the mix… the more things could go wrong… and coincidently, the more time I had to contemplate all the potential permutations with negative outcomes.
The more I contemplated the potential negative outcomes, the more I kept thinking of the old military adage that the best wars are the ones never fought. I was three times the mass of Janice Pulaski and a harden and trained Marine to boot. How is it that both this woman and Cat Kimbridge had the power to terrify me?
I ultimately decided I was thinking about the situation all wrong. Planning a wedding proposal with the same methodology used to develop a combat campaign was, perhaps… at some fundamental level… a flawed approach. With this in mind, I decided to switch tactics and go for broke.
Sometimes a frontal assault is the best approach… the ‘Charge of the Light Brigade’ and its unfortunate outcome notwithstanding.
I proceeded to make elaborate plans for a romantic dinner on the Yorktown’s dining promenade complete with a small Marine band and top-of-the-line, vat grown, Kobe beef. The meal was to be prepared by the Captain’s wife and award-winning chef, Lieutenant Rebecca Ann Kirkland. The Yorktown’s chief engineer was recruited to fabricate two simple, but elegant, platinum wedding bands.
Fred even tried to get in on the action. When he heard what I was intending to do… he asked JJ to explain to him what marriage was all about. Sadly, this was like asking a duck to explain what it was like to be an eagle… The duck might know what it was like to fly but I have yet to see a duck snatch a trout out of a stream in mid-flight.
I’m afraid Fred’s understanding of the nuances of marriage where skewed towards the reproductive aspects of married life. This became evident when, at JJ’s prompting, Fred asked if he could have the privilege of guarding the eggs produced on our wedding night.
The little barrel robot seemed genuinely disappointed when I explained that there would likely be no eggs as a result of our wedding night. Moments later his status lights began to flash quicker as an idea formed in his neurocircuitry. He explained that his programming included excellent tutoring software. If I could prov
ide him access to the appropriate educational material on human reproduction, he would be happy to develop a customized instructional program to aid us in the process of producing eggs. I resolved to have a heart to heart conversation with JJ.
By way of compromise, I promised Fred the opportunity to be one of the most highly cherished participants in any wedding ceremony… that of the exalted ring-bearer.
I was finally ready to launch operation ‘Braveheart’ into action. I asked the good doctor if she would care to join me for a celebratory meal on the promenade. She asked what was it that we were celebrating? I answered simply… us. That earned me a smile. I like smiles… especially hers. I put my carefully conceived and prepared plans into motion.
Sadly, there is a saying in war… no plan ever survives contact with the enemy. In this case the enemy was the Fabricator fleet and their unrelenting drive into GCP space.
Chapter 18: Aldebra Prime…
Halfway through a very delightful dinner and a very rare slab of Kobe beef, the lights on the Yorktown’s promenade switched to alert status red. This literally meant… drop what you’re doing and report to your duty station.
I looked at my bride-to-be and then my half-eaten steak. “We’re not finished here,” I said. I hoped Janice knew I was referring to her and not the steak.
“The answer is ‘yes’,” she said as she stood up. The dress she was wearing shimmered and clung to all the right places… and trust me here… she had plenty of right places.
“Yes?” I asked slightly confused.
“You were going to ask me to marry you,” She responded with a wink. “My answer is ‘Yes’.” Then she looked over the dinner table and the Marine band that had been playing a soft romantic song in the background just a few minutes before. She used her finger to quickly wave at all of my preparations. “You’ll need to set all of this up again but… the answer will still be yes.”
With that she grabbed my neck and pulled herself up for a very thorough kiss. She’s a medical doctor so she knows the quickest way to get to a man’s heart.
***
Five minutes later, I was on the Yorktown’s bridge making my way across to the Admiral’s ready room.
I could see a holographic map of what appeared to be sector 1-1-9. The Aldebra Prime system was the only populated system in that sector. It had been in that system that we had finally cornered and negotiated a peace deal with the Ashtoreth replicant known as Senior Fleet Admiral Imera.
“Sorry to interrupt your plans Commander. I know they were important,” Admiral Kimbridge acknowledge as I walked in. “I’m afraid we have a pair of critical situations that will not wait.”
I nodded. This was the nature of our business. Her entire senior staff was in the ready room.
Cat waved towards the holographic display.
“About four hours ago a Fabricator ship entered the Aldebra system. It laid waste to one of the populated moons. A Sigma Class cruiser from the Nataree Alliance was refueling at one of the hydrogen scoops orbiting the same gas giant as the moon the Fabricators targeted. The cruiser got in a lucky shot before it too was destroyed. The Fabricator ship appears to have a damaged Hyperfield drive and is fleeing the system on sublight engines.”
“So, we are going to investigate and see if we can’t recover the Processing Unit’s data core?” I asked.
Having access to Fred had provided us with a wealth of information but unfortunately there was a limit to what he could share. Not because he didn’t want to… but because he had never had access to the type of information we needed. The data core could provide us with the information we needed to end the Fabricator threat once and for all.
“I think we need to,” Cat acknowledged. “But, I also think this opportunity is time sensitive. The Fabricator ship could finish repairs at any time.”
I knew there had to be more to this then I was hearing. Cat was a decisive woman. There had to be a reason she had called a meeting of her senior staff.
“It’s time sensitive but…” I prompted.
Cat smiled and signaled for Captain Kirkland to speak.
Ken stepped closer to the holographic display. He used his hand to shrink the existing display and bring up a new one. This time it was sector 1-1-3. The sector that held Alpha Centauri, Barnard’s star, Wolf 359 and a star known as Sol.
He cleared his throat. “We have detected a large formation of Fabricator ships on a course that will put them in 1-1-2 in three weeks. The Yorktown taskforce as well as every other GCP and allied ship that we can muster is going to be joining us at Wolf 359.”
“I understand. Wolf 359 has to be the priority.”
It was unfortunate because my brief tour of a Fabricator ship had not revealed any great weaknesses that we could exploit. In point of fact, the Fabricator ships, although created by the ancestors of the Ashtoreth, were far more sophisticated technologically than what we witnessed in battling the Ashtoreth that had invaded our galaxy.
“Wolf 359 is a priority,” Cat agreed, “But I’m not willing to give up on that Fabricator ship stranded in sector 1-1-9 yet. I want you and the Infinity Brigade to take the Defiant and attempt a boarding. You leave in three hours.”
***
The Defiant was a powerful little ship. It was fifty percent hybrid fusion/antimatter engine, twenty-five percent cargo and twenty-five percent living space. It was designed for Marine operations and had the weapons and shields to prove it. The Yorktown was barely able to accommodate a ship of its size in its largest hanger bay… and then only because of the latest upgrades.
The Defiant had the capability to transport up to six hundred marines in a pinch. We weren’t in a pinch, so I handpicked two hundred of my best plus some computer and engineering geeks to accompany us for this trip. That would give the men plenty of space to work out and would mean we would not need to hot bunk. Sleeping in a bed somebody else just farted in was never pleasant.
The trip to the Aldebra system would take us two jumps and about three days. I intended to use the time to drill the men on boarding operations and what they could expect once they got inside. Fred, who was accompanying us, proved to be invaluable.
Another person that was accompanying us was a bit of a surprise. Admiral Kimbridge had assigned Janice to head up our three-person medical staff. The prospects for this trip being a rewarding one… even if we never got onboard the Fabricator ship… were looking up!
I had JJ start the boarding drills by using the simulators. These were similar to the units used in boot camp but far more sophisticated. In a simulator, it was virtually impossible to tell you were in a simulation.
There was a favorite prank that often got pulled on newbies. They would be encouraged to drink to excess as kind of a rite-of-passage. Then, while they were sloshed, their bunkmates would place them in a simulator suit and program it to drop them in the middle of a crap storm. It was all fun and games until somebody puked in their sim-suit. No one wants to clean that up… trust me.
Fortunately, there would not be any time for fun and games on this trip. I wasn’t sure how the new Ashtoreth troops would respond to this sort of hazing. In truth, I had no desire to see what happened when one of my Gator Marines lost his or her lunch.
Day two was punctuated with a fight between the Ashtoreth Marines and one of the more experienced men. I was sad but not surprised that Sergeant James Peters was in the middle of it all. It seemed my previous talk with the man had not yet fully sunk in.
I called the two Marines who had been in the fight into my office. The Ashtoreth was one of the largest Gators I had ever seen. His name was MaTok. I would guess he weighted over two hundred kilos. I shook my head. Peters was a bright guy. Why was he so intent on torpedoing his once promising career? And why in the world would he pick a fight with a man two and a half times his size?
“Explain yourselves,” I ordered as the two men came to attention.
Neither said a word.
“OK, if neither of you have an
ything to say then I guess I will do the talking. I cannot and will not have my men fighting each other. God was good enough to fill the universe with bad guys we can fight. Peters… I expected better out of you… especially after our last talk. I’m demoting you to corporal. If, at some later point, you prove to me you have reformed then I will consider giving you your stripe back.”
I looked over at Private MaTok.
“Private, I’m ordering you to tell me who started the fight.”
The Gator looked uncomfortable, but he said nothing.
“Did you not understand the order?”
Finally, the big bruiser opened his mouth… and then shut it without saying a word. I stood up.
“I’m waiting,” I said in a deep voice.
“I started the fight,” MaTok said stiffly.
“That’s not true,” Peters replied. “I called his mother an egg-stealer when he screwed up a drill. I lost my temper and I said something I shouldn’t have.”
“Damn straight, Marine,” I said.
Calling a person’s mother an egg-stealer was about the worst insult you could throw at an Ashtoreth. Their place in society was tied to their heritage. To say someone had questionable heritage was to say they had no status in Ashtoreth society.
“Private, what happened with the drill?”
MaTok looked at Peters with a grudging respect.
“The Sergeant ordered us to advance. I’m taller and I saw Lieutenant Hammond’s team had two men waiting to ambush us. I knew we were being pressed from behind and needed to advance or we would be like a tickla nut crushed between to stones. I decided to draw their fire in the hopes that the ambushers would be spotted and taken out when they fired at me. I ended up being declared dead, but the rest of the team made it through.”
“So, you sacrificed yourself to save the team?”
MaTok shook his head. “I knew it was a simulation, Sir.”
I turned to the newly demoted Corporal. “Did you know about the men waiting to ambush you?”
“Negative, Sir. I only learned about them after the Private got himself fragged. If we had all advanced at once, there is a good chance most of my men would have been taken out.”
