Fool's Gold (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Not bad. The latest crop of candidates is quite a challenge. We've got a long way to go to train these people, less than thirty five percent know how to read or write let alone do anything above basic math. Most of those had some experience with Commander Logan's training seminars,” Sprite reported, nodding politely to the commander.

  “Ah,” Irons nodded.

  “A few are practically feral. Very few social skills beyond what is needed to survive. A few were turned over to us kicking and screaming by station security. I think Judge Farley wanted to use the marines as a dumping ground but I talked him out of it. For now,” Logan scowled.

  “Our shipyard techs have recently graduated. We've swollen the ranks there to double our previous size so we've laid the ground work for some of the other projects on the to do list.”

  “Prometheus and her escorts?”

  “Aye sir,” Logan nodded. He shrugged. “We've got a glut on structural metal so I threw some of the more experienced people at each of them.”

  “I saw that. Frame is already half complete in less then a month. Impressive.”

  “We'll need you for her replicators, drive, power plant and such sir.”

  “Of course. Let me know when,” Irons replied with a nod. He looked over to Sprite's avatar. “Continue. You were saying?”

  “We are getting a lot of people that want a free hand out and free medical and source of implant tech. Gunny Thomas has... disabused them of that,” Sprite reported. Irons and Logan each grinned.

  “The world owes me a living crowd? That must be interesting,” the Admiral said smiling. “Did that tailor ah, what's his name ever sign on?”

  “No. And thank the spirit of space he was talked out of it. We've had a lot of rich folk wanting to put on the uniform and strut around the station with a chest full of medals. A week in basic has forced them to change their minds and regretfully resign.”

  Irons snorted. “This Gunny Thomas is quite the DI I take it.”

  “Oh yeah. Gunnery Sergeant Schultz is his Marine equivalent. He's got some of the rougher crowd shaping up into pretty good marines. They just received their implants and are moving into the second phase of training. Those that know fighting are pretty good. We've had some issues with gang members though.”

  “Everyone wants a second chance,” Irons said nodding.

  “And working in the navy has a sort of glamor. It beats sitting on your ass hiding in the dark and scraping by on hand outs or what you can steal,” Logan said nodding. “Most of the stationers are happy that we're unburdening them of the unproductive people. It's certainly helped station security and life support. Of course many were people who did their best to help out in some small way,” he shook his head. “Still, I do agree, we do look sharp in our uniforms. And the idea of hope, of doing something is appealing to most.” He pretended to dust his shoulder off then shine his buttons all while looking smug.

  “That it is. Still, I'd say we've got about two thousand five hundred and forty from Anvil. That's clearing out a significant percentage of the riff-raff. Keeping them gainfully employed has lightened the load on the station significantly,” Sprite reported. “Of course not without some sort of squealing from the assembly about how we're supposed to pay all these people.”

  “And of course not without some squealing about poaching as well. We're taking the most productive people they have, and making big gaping holes in their watch bills,” Logan said with a snort.

  “Well, they do have a point. About ten percent of our monthly inductees are from station personnel. People who do not like their boss or want to do more then sit around and man a console or kiss some rich ladies assets,” the AI replied.

  “And of course a week in the navy will make them see that the grass isn't always greener on the other side,” Irons chuckled. “The day in, day out grind can be a pain.”

  “Days of boredom with brief seconds of awe or terror,” Logan murmured. Irons grunted, shooting him a look.

  “That's a misquote but close enough,” the AI said. Irons waved a hand. “As I was saying, we've got problems with the gangs, some have joined as a cover.”

  “Ah?” Irons said sitting back. Logan grimaced sitting back as well. “The old I want to join to get away from the gang but it's really a cover to expand the gang's influence deal?”

  “Exactly. A few peddle drugs and illegal materials. They thought that they would have a free market in the navy,” the AI replied. “They thought wrong.”

  “I take it you've been weeding out the problem children?”

  “More... redirecting their energies. Anyone who has gang affiliations are tagged for marine training. Schultz has a go at them.”

  “Oh goody,” Logan said chuckling.

  “Exactly,” Sprite said with a feral smile. “When he gets through with them we can ship them off to recruiting stations on other colonies or on ships. One to a posting and then monitor them closely. Any illicit contact or breach of regulations and we come down on them hard with a captain's mast or a full court martial.”

  “Oh that must go over well,” Logan said nodding.

  “It hasn't happened yet but it does do the ticket. At least in the past. A few have resigned. I think the point is starting to get through. We had a few altercations in boot, a few rival gang members recognized each other, but gunny worked it out.”

  “So, another reason to work on JAG some more,” Logan grunted picking up a cup. He grimaced.

  “Exactly so. Eventually captain's mast isn't going to be enough of a deterrent. We're going to need to come down hard enough to set an example.”

  “Right. Now about the people we've got in mind... do any have actual legal experience beyond contract law?”

  “No. That is why I shot Matilda a memo to open a paralegal training course for the college...”

  Firefly's avatar studied the class. His assistant looked a little nervous. This wasn't the first time an AI had taught a class, but it was Firefly's first experience teaching in a formal setting with a class this size. During the Xeno war it had been quick courses on how to use the systems and briefings as time allowed. Normally that was a one on one effort or a small group. This was an entirely different social situation.

  He wasn't certain he would be cut out for this, but it was a refreshing change from working the day to day work on the ship. Since they were in port he had the time for the experience. In truth, even after seven months of interaction with his crew he still wanted more social contact. Nearly seven centuries of sleep had been a lonely experience he wanted to make up for.

  “All right settle down,” he ordered. The general hum of conversations quieted. The AI nodded. “Now we're going to do a fast overview of AI for this since I'm your guest teacher while my ship is in dock.”

  “Are you a part of the ship? Is it your body I mean?” a voice in the back asked. Firefly's link to the classroom sensors allowed him to pinpoint where the voice had come from and match it to... no the person was not on the seating chart.

  “No. It is a bit more complex than that,” the AI replied. “I'm sorry I don't have you on my seating chart.”

  “Name's Prim. Jason Prim.”

  “Well midshipman...”

  “I'm not a navy wannabee dweeb,” the voice said. A young man stood. He had all sorts of piercings in his fleshy audio sensor areas as well as in his smelling apparatus.

  “If you’re not part of my class then I ask that you either sit quietly and do not disrupt the proceeding or leave.”

  “You gonna make me?” the man asked, jutting his chin out. “You're just a light show,” he said, tossing a balled up piece of trash through the holo. Firefly shot an IM off to Smithy who promptly responded.

  “I'll ask you again to sit Mr. Prim,” the AI said. Slowly the young man sat.

  “Now I have a limited time here. As I was saying I will be here for another shift before departing but I must be ready before that. As you know I am a smart AI, one of a handful left in the sys
tem, perhaps in the entire galaxy. There are multiple levels of AI, from bots to what organics call dumb AIs, really just reactive programs with a personality core, and smart AIs of various levels.”

  “Why can’t you grow nanites and make more? Thousands?” Mr. Prim asked. He flicked a hand through his long purple hair.

  “Really Mr. Prim,” the AI shook his head. “To answer that, you'll have to access the historical database. Specifically the first AI war and the Asimov protocols embedded in every AI's kernel.”

  Firefly paused and held out one hand. A ball of light particles formed in it. The lights dimmed. “Nanites, as most of you know are robots. During the AI war some AIs managed to create distributed networks, or net clouds using them. Nanites were extensively used during the war by both sides. They wrought terrible devastation on the human home world.”

  Behind Firefly images flashed of cities being destroyed, some literally melting. Others melting and reforming. “I'll spare you the images of organics and what happened to them when they encountered a disassembler cloud,” Firefly said.

  “Thanks,” a young woman in the front row gulped. Based on her core temperature and facial patterns the woman was experiencing intestinal distress.

  “Moving on,” Firefly nodded. “We, that is the AI community were incorporated into the human community as sentients. As a thinking being I have the same rights as you do. I must also obey the laws put forth by the Federation.” He studied the students for a moment.

  “One of those is the stricture on nanites. Nanites can only be used in very controlled conditions. The same goes for AI.”

  “So you’re a slave? I mean you can't ever leave Firefly right? I mean permanently,” a young elf, midshipman Waters brightly asked.

  “No Midshipman, to all your questions. I may resign my commission at any time. My AI core would be extracted from Firefly and hooked up to another network of my choosing. Like you I can transfer as well. This can also happen if Firefly the ship is ever scrapped due to battle damage, or due to a political decision.”

  “The Asimov protocols... how can you function in the military if you can't kill?” a midshipman, Mr. Tra'jeki asked.

  “As an officer in the Federation Navy my Asimov protocols are slightly different. Think of them as a moral code. Something your parental units imparted on you during your early programming period.”

  “Like all of you I had a childhood of sorts. I even had a gestation period. As a smart AI I was cultured and grown. Parts of me are encoded modules from parent AIs. In this case Spirit of America and John Paul Jones.”

  “Um...”

  “They are AIs of course,” Firefly said. “Spirit was a colony ship before retiring to become a station AI in Mars orbit. John Paul Jones was a warship of the Federation. I have sixteen other parental units that provided modules for my development.”

  “That functions as what, DNA?” midshipman Tra'jeki asked.

  “As close to DNA as electronic information files can get. The allegory however has been used before and is considered an acceptable standard,” the AI nodded.

  “Boooring...” Prim's voice cut in. Firefly frowned. He looked up to see Prim was sitting with one leg hanging over an arm rest while the other was kicking the back of the seat of the person in front of him.

  “You can always leave. I understand you are here as an observer. You can also observe these proceedings from the privacy of your quarters. This is being transmitted and recorded for other viewing,” the AI reminded tartly.

  “It is?” a girl asked suddenly self conscious. “Oh spirit of space my hair!” She touched her brightly colored hair.

  “All classes are recorded and or transmitted Miss Tisdayle,” the AI responded. A few of the students looked startled at that. Firefly shook his head. Organics. Their data retention protocols left gaping holes in their abilities to process information sometime.

  A security bot entered the room. Prim opened his mouth then glared at Firefly. The bot flew up to his seat. He got up with a huff and left. The bot followed.

  An outline of the basic AI classes was projected behind the AI avatar. Beside Firefly a small model of each AI's processing core was also modeled.

  “Now, as you just saw, the lowest class of AI is a bot. A bot is a non sentient program. It has minimal function, and exists to do a limited number of actions. It cannot learn and most cannot adapt or change without outside intervention.”

  “A dumb AI as you organics call it is a cluster of these bots and a central personality core with a limited heuristic learning ability and access to storage of data. These AIs can store and retrieve data and can act as personal assistants or do menial overseeing tasks.”

  “Is the Admiral's AI one?” Mr. Tra'jeki asked.

  “No. Sprite is a special case. Still classified so I of course cannot discuss her beyond that in this forum,” Firefly shrugged.

  “Oh.”

  “Smart AI are grown by various methods. As I mentioned, seed modules from donor AIs are formed into a core, then a neural network is grown throughout them and through a core database. As the neural network grows it processes the information and information from various sensory feeds. This shapes the AI core until it flashes over into consciousness.” The display changed to a model of a brain. It grew like a hierarchy bush, outward like a human brain until it flashed. When the flash faded an AI avatar was there.

  “Smart AIs can choose to follow the path their parent entities chose for them or choose their own path. They also choose their own names and identities. Some such as myself prefer to take on the name of the ship or station they are occupying.”

  The AI turned to the class. “And that is the extremely basic overview of the classes of AI. You can find this information in your E-book. Moving on...”

  Chapter 30

  Mayweather studied the little monster playing in the bosun's lap then sighed. She should of known something was going to happen sooner or later. The crew was settled into their new roles and were becoming comfortable. Now they wanted to expand that.

  "She's no trouble captain, honest. I'll take good care of her," he smiled imploringly to her. It was like looking at an ugly dog wagging its tail for all it's worth. "She'll keep up morale and be a blight on any rat or creepy crawly that tries to come aboard."

  "That's not the point chief Bailey, and yes it is a problem," personally she wasn't sure what kind of critter could get past Firefly's screens. Then again, it had been known to happen from time to time. The calico kitten butted at the chief's scarred, over sized hand then started to wrestle with it. He smiled down at her. She had to forcefully remind herself to keep a straight face.

  "She's just a little wight now captain, but she's cute as a midshipman on her first deployment."

  Mayweather chuckled then stopped when the kitten paused and yawned. The needle sharp teeth brought her back to her mental block sharply.

  "Did you run this by Petty officer Ember? Or Tech Dawn? Or our new tactical officer for that matter?" she asked. His face fell.

  "I didn't think of that, he mumbled. She sighed then counted to ten as the little runt started to knead at Bailey's leg then settle in for a nap. Each knead made him wince making her smile.

  "All right chief, she can be the ship's cat if..." He looked up at her with dawning hope. "If they each sign off on it, the little monster is cleared by medical, she is ID tagged, and you keep her in your cabin. She's not to go out without an escort. On a leash." The chief nodded solemnly. She snorted softly.

  "I do not need to try to explain why we're going to court martial a cat if it kills my new tactical officer because she thinks she's a chew toy. Right?"

  He shook his head cuddling the cat. "No ma'am. Just think of the paperwork involved."

  "Don't push your luck chief."

  "Aye aye ma'am," he said getting up.

  "Scram," she made a shooing motion, making a show of looking down at her tablet.

  Sprite looked around the group and smiled. Enrique nodde
d politely.

  “As I was saying the initiation of the Federation tax will be phased in over the next three years in increments. Of course it will not be nearly as high as it was during the height of the war.”

  “It'd better not be or we'd be cutting our own throats!” Andreas said shaking his head. He was one of Pyrax's up and coming economists and was about to take over the treasury. “I take it this is what you mean by budget analysis?” he said turning to Smithy.

  The AI nodded. “We're going to need an initial budget to work from, with the Admiral's final approval of course,” the AI nodded to Sprite who smiled. “We are going to set up the budget along the same lines as the government. Defense, Education, Health, Agriculture, Transportation, Justice, and others. Those are the major ones though.”

  “Right. And by checking our analysis of what we need we can structure the tax code increments to fund what we need when we need it as each stage comes online. All right, I can see that part of this.”

  “Exactly. And, since Pyrax is the only one in the system so far, we will of course take the lion share of each year's budget,” smithy replied. “Minus each system's set up costs of course.”

  “Oh, of course,” Andreas nodded rubbing his chin. “We're going to do lending as well?”

  “Yes. And Federal insurance backing as well. Interest rates... the whole works.”

  “Joy. Well, I always liked a challenge. Why now though?” Andreas asked, looking around. “And if we're doing this now, why isn't the Admiral here?” he turned to Sprite. “No offense of course.”

  The AI smiled and cocked her head. She was for once dressed in a conservative civilian business suit. “None taken. To answer your questions in order. One it's better that we set it up now and get everyone used to the system now. That way we don't have any dislocations down the road. Two, it allows us to graft this system onto other star systems as they come online. Greatly reducing the paperwork and the headache involved with each.”

  “Ah. But with more systems that means people will want a piece of the pie. Which means smaller slices here at home.”