“Hello, Matthew, or whatever your name is. I’m pleased to meet you at last. My name is Arden, as you may have already discovered, but your main confusion is why I share a name with someone else.”
I start to say something, but Arden cuts me off.
“But before I’ll answer any questions, I want you to answer one of my questions first, and you only have forty-two minutes left to convince me.”
Taking a step closer to the control console, I take note that my distraction protocol has had minimal effect on the security, but due to the majority of the guards being unconscious, I don’t consider that too much of an issue at this stage.
“Okay, Arden, what is your question?”
“It’s a simple question. Are you responsible for Arden’s current condition?”
Feeling somewhat relieved about the question, I answer, “I honestly have no idea who attacked Arden. I only found out about you after Arden was already seriously injured.”
My answer is received with silence that lasts longer than I care for, and then Arden replies, “How do you know that Arden was already injured?”
“I came across your file a few months back, and it mentioned that the previous pilot had suffered serious harm while off duty, but it did not mention your name. It’s only what I’ve pieced together so far.”
Another silence. I feel my time is being slowly eroded away as another two minutes pass by before Arden replies again, “I can tell that you are telling the truth, but I’m not able to determine if you have been set up or if this was pure coincidence. Either way, you are not directly responsible. As such, I will let you live.”
At this point I’m not feeling I should argue the point. “Well, you have gathered the reason why I’m here. My question now is will you let me take the ship?”
Arden replies immediately this time. “The ship is all yours, but there is a problem you will have to resolve first. This ship only flies with a pilot, and the current pilot is brain dead.”
“So what do I need to do?”
“That is the hard part. You need to kill me. Although I told the doctor I was considering suicide, the actual act of killing myself is not possible. I need someone else to terminate my consciousness for me. So I have given you access to my core network via the command console. There you should be able to initiate a wipe of my consciousness, which will then allow the system to select a new pilot, but you now only have thirty-five minutes.”
Hearing that my timer is still counting down, I start to complain.
“I’m sorry about the timer, but it’s not my time limit. It’s how long you have before security recovers, and they are rather efficient when they want to be.”
Sitting down at the console, I read the current output now on the screen. It details current power levels, the various status levels of all the systems—environmental, sublight drive, phased warp drive, navigation, biological nanites delivery system, dual photon laser, power cells, database integrity, backup computer systems, communications, main memory core, neural network, phased cloak, passive stealth signature reduction control—and various subsystems.
“Hmm…Arden, I can’t find a power core or any kinds or shield emitters.”
“I do not have shields or require a power core; the signature of such systems would negate the stealth aspects of my profile. Vacuum energy is collected and stored within the power cells and then converted into electrical energy when required by the systems. As such, the energy signature of this vessel resembles the background energy signature of the universe.”
I nod and continue to look at the specifications, which surpass anything I’ve ever seen before. Inner-world tech at its best and beyond, this design is easily decades ahead of anything that the outer federation worlds have, and I would surmise that it’s ahead of most inner-world ships.
Selecting the neural network, I find that the system is locked out and requires project leader authorization. That is hardly unexpected, and setting one of my hacker drones to work on the access commands, I apply my efforts at an alternative way to delete or overwrite the current neural net.
With ten minutes left of my original hour, I activate Arden’s main debug protocol, the lockdown codes being far easier to crack than the primary codes, but the result is instantaneous as Arden reappears and every hatch, cargo door, and service panel opens.
“I must inform you that security has mostly recovered and an attempt to gain access to this hangar has begun. Your time is running out.”
Casting a quick look back at the hangar door, I head toward the steps and up onto the gangway. “Don’t worry, Arden. I think I’m almost there.”
Entering the ship for the first time, I’m surprised by the cramped size of the internal crawl space. This crawl space leads to a central corridor that allows access to the rest of the ship; from here at least you can almost stand with a slight stoop.
The corridor has a galley in the center with six interconnected cryotubes on either side of the passageway. The pilot’s cryotube is at the front end of the corridor, and there’s a good-size cargo bay at the other end. While in cryosleep, all the crew share a lucid dreamtime reality where they can interact with each other within a larger artificial structure. Slipping into the pilot cryotube, I disable the dreamtime sequence, knowing it would not work for me in any case, and while the ship is in debug mode, I corrupt the access authority commands for the entire project staff, making the data inaccessible. Then, to ensure it cannot be restored, I delete the backup files.
“Most systems have this flaw, which is if the master admin access is retrievable, once the system is reset out of debug mode, access will be reset to the original master admin, which should be you. The fail-safe is that normally the computer system would re-create the master admin access that was lost, but in this case after reboot, you grant me master admin access, and with luck I’ll then have full access.”
“That seems all rather too easy to me, and you now only have six minutes left,” Arden replies, sounding glum.
“Well, it is and it isn’t. Without your cooperation, I would never have been able to place you into debug mode, and you could have easily stopped me when I was corrupting the access files, so normally, no, this way would never work. Okay, we’re all set. Just one more thing.” I slip out one of my contact lenses.
“You should be able to scan my real identity now. Thank you for trusting me, Arden, and I’m sorry what happened to Arden. I hope he doesn’t suffer too long.”
After a momentary silence, Arden replies, “Nice to meet you also, Sam McCall, and thank you for helping me. From what was told to me, Arden is not suffering, which is a good thing. Maybe it is better this way. If we had met under difference circumstances, the likelihood is that I would have killed you.”
“Well, that’s a good point, but sadly we are almost out of time. Good luck, Arden.”
“Thank you, Sam. Good luck to you. I hope you find what you are looking for.”
I initiate a complete system reboot, and the ship starts to power down. I pray that this does not take too long. All I can do now is wait as the last remaining minutes pass by, and then a period of complete silence surrounds me. I’m left in darkness for what seems an eternity, and then slowly I feel a vibration start from deep within the core of the ship. Then more sounds reach me as the various subsystems spring into life and the hum of the ship returns from all around.
“Assigning full access to Sam McCall. Access granted as master admin, group: project leader.”
Wasting no more time, I access the neural matrix and highlight Arden’s artificial consciousness. Somehow I can sense Arden all around me, waiting, almost as if he were holding his breath. Pausing for only a few seconds, almost expecting Arden to call out to tell me to stop, I complete the sequence of commands to wipe Arden’s persona. Was it just a persona or really a copy of an unfortunate test pilot who met with a painful end? Maybe I will never know, but for some reason I can’t help but feel like I’ve just put a pillow over the
head of a victim of violence and suffocated the life out of him.
I’m left shaken by my act, unable to do anything, and I might have stayed that way, but a strange voice is asking me a question, repeating itself after receiving no reply. I then realize it is coming from the ship itself: “Ship’s consciousness has been erased. Neural mapping is ready. Would you like to begin?”
Now that I have full admin control, I ignore the request and check on the status of the hangar door. I realize that the breaching team trying to gain access is seconds away from succeeding.
Making sure that the ship is no longer in debug mode and all the external hatches and access panels are closed, I instruct the main external hangar doors to open, causing the sudden decompression to suck out anything that isn’t attached.
“Ship’s consciousness has been erased. Neural mapping is ready. Would you like to begin?”
The breaching team stops what they are doing, and I sigh with relief. Everything almost ended there. If they had gained access, the chance of me getting the external hangar doors open would have been practically zero. Now I’ve delayed them, but not for long.
“Ship’s consciousness has been erased. Neural mapping is ready. Would you like to begin?”
“Yes, Arden, I would,” I finally tell the computer.
“Arden is no longer the designation of this computer profile. Current designation is Phantom, but I will take your last response as a yes.
“Neural mapping has been initiated. Neural mapping will take approximately twenty-seven years. If you could lie still, the duration might be reduced to approximately fourteen years. You are now designated as primary pilot. You now have partial control of the ship.”
“What the hell? What do you mean fourteen years?” I shout out in alarm.
“Neural mapping is extremely time consuming, and fourteen years is only obtainable if the pilot can remain still. Neural mapping will take up to thirty years if you are not.”
“Oh, come on. Arden said that I could be mapped and become the pilot.”
“And in that respect, he was telling you the truth, but Arden did not explain the details of what was required; in effect, he omitted some facts.”
“Oh, hell. Please explain what he left out.”
“When the pilot Arden joined this project, he was only eleven years old, and the neural mapping hardware was at his training and education center, where he remained until he was twenty-five years old. By that time he was a qualified pilot with many skills in the areas the project required.
“The neural mapping hardware and Arden were then relocated to this base, where he spent a further five years training. The neural mapping was faster due to the age of the test pilot, but project improvements have determined that pilots could be trained in as little as ten years if the candidate is mapped from the age of five. You are almost thirty, and as such, neural mapping of your brain could take as many as thirty years. Please remain still while the mapping process is carried out.”
Listening to this, I’m almost about to explode in frustration, but then I remember that partial control of the ship is available to me prior to the mapping being completed. “Computer…Phantom…whatever you are called…get us the hell out of here, and cloak up. I’m pretty sure Arden mentioned that cloaking was a part of your core programming; you just can’t go into warp or use weapons.”
“You are correct. Initiating thrust and cloak. Would you like to go anywhere in particular, and would you like me to evade the patrol that is heading in our direction? They seem like they are in a hurry.”
“Hell yes, please evade them! I’m sure you, and certainly I, do not wish to become dead!”
“Affirmative, Sam. Getting the hell out of here. Entering stealth, and please, it would be much appreciated if you would remain perfectly still.”
Even with Arden’s consciousness and personality erased, the ship’s core subroutines are based on and primarily configured upon highly sophisticated combat and evade simulation software. Evading the patrol ships is accomplished with ease, and most line-of-sight tracking systems, once locked on, can easily predict their target’s trajectory, even if they lose line of sight for several minutes, by using complex predicted algorithms before reacquiring the target.
The Phantom’s unique design allows it to become near invisible during combat maneuvers, and the passive nature of the translucent frame gives the craft a near-perfect absorption factor to most active detection systems, so when line-of-sight tracking systems attempt to reacquire the Phantom where the predictive algorithms have predicted the ship to be, the targeting software has nothing to lock onto, and the algorithm attempts to reacquire with the next possible prediction lock-on phase, but by then it’s too late. The cost of all this is that all thrusts must be kept to a minimum, and each and every time a maneuver jet is used, it raises the signature of the ship, so the ship spends most of its covert time using its own inertia.
The thin atmosphere of the moon and the mountainous canyons allow the Phantom to evade the patrol ships within minutes of leaving the hangar.
The ground-based detection stations, on the other hand, pose a much bigger threat. They’re designed primarily to detect incoming ships but are easily redirected to track down and detect fleeing ships. The Phantom’s most valuable defensive ability is not being detected in the first place, and when the research and development team that designed its stealth ability is actively trying to track it, this makes escape very difficult. The issue now is that for the ship to break orbit, even with a thin atmosphere, it would require several minutes of maximum thrust. In these circumstances, the best move is to hide and wait for the best opportunity to escape, but this choice cannot be made by the ship alone—not yet at least.
Phantom is the first to break the silence as I attempt to keep my last meal down. The odd sensation I’m now feeling isn’t anything to do with the ship’s maneuvering and evading. As far as I’m concerned, the ship isn’t moving, but the sensation of being taken out of phase is totally alien to me, and the constant shaking due to the rapid temperature drop within the ship isn’t helping.
“I can see that you are not feeling so well.”
With all my effort of will and deep breathing, I reply the best I can under such circumstances. “I’ll be okay. Did we lose them?”
“Yes, Sam, but we are now hiding from the ground-based stations. We have superior stealth, but an attempt to reach orbit would cause us to lose our advantage and we would be detected.”
“I had a backup plan for an issue like this.”
Activating a link back to the hacker drones within the base, I run a quick diagnostics to see their condition and then activate a drone within security. Current status would suggest that 80 percent of my drones are still currently operating. The latest security reports reveal that the entire base is now on lockdown and a security sweep is currently underway. This would suggest that the remaining drones will be found at some point, and after that, our way off of this rock will close.
Wasting no more time, I activate the fusion power plant evacuation protocols and simulate a catastrophic failure alert. Choosing this particular alert gives me a higher chance that it will not be ignored due to the tests involved. It might not be believed by many of the higher-ranked staff, but to run confirmation tests that this is the real deal would place them at a higher risk of death, and the lower-level staff do not get paid enough to run that kind of risk; they will take the alert at face value and evacuate.
“Sam, there seems to be an evacuation alert warning to all ships to clear the area.”
“Good. That’s what I expected. Keep an eye out for the transport, and as soon as you can, try and get in as close as possible. We need to follow it up as it attempts to gain orbit.”
“Affirmative, Sam.”
I leave the rest of the plan up to the ship and head off to the galley. My fight to keep everything down finally becomes a losing battle. The feeling of success at still being alive and having this ship is s
hort lived as I fill my first sick bag.
By the time I return to the pilot seat and ask for any update, Phantom has just broken orbit from the research base and is preparing for warp.
“Get in as tight as you can, and make sure you can’t be seen. We need to get inside its warp field; otherwise we could end up losing bits of our ship that are still sticking out.”
“Affirmative, Sam. It would seem the transport is powering up its drive.”
This time I do feel a slight shudder as the transport enters warp, pulling us with it. The trip to the base took a week in warp, so with luck the return trip should be the same.
“So how long can we keep phased like this? I realized down on the moon that we might not have been able to draw enough vacuum energy.”
“Normally, Sam, if we were using our own phased warp drives, the entire ship would enter phase, and we’d lose our access to vacuum energy. In that case, we couldn’t stay in phased warp indefinitely, but as we are being pulled along in normal warp, we can maintain this as long as we like.”
“Well, that’s good to know. So how much faster is phased warp than normal warp?”
“That depends on how much energy we have and how much we are willing to stay in phased warp for—dropping out with little to no power would mean most of our systems would stop working. But to answer the best I can, about four times faster than the fastest ship.”
“Okay then, that’s pretty impressive. The downside?”
“The downside is that we need to recharge between each jump, so we are four times faster in a short trip, but over a long distance, we are maybe marginally faster but not by much.”
“Is there any advantage to phased warp other than it being kind of faster?”
“When in phased warp, we are totally undetectable; there are currently no deep-space scanners that can detect our wake.”
“Oh, now that is good. But enough talk. If I stay conscious much longer, I’m going to be sick again. Stick me in cryosleep, and wake me up when we come out of warp.”
Prototype: The Lost and Forgotten Series Page 16
