On Zane's request, Patricia counted down the last twenty seconds – calculated to allow for the distance - before the Journeyer emerged and delivered its deadly relativistic ordinance. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought Patricia/Keira's voice grew breathless in the final seconds.
"Five...four...three...two...one."
Zane had time for one half-breath before the space portrayed in the home theater-sized hologram lit up like a mini-supernova. Even as the hologram glowed with reddish-white light, the same light flooded in from the forward windows, mixing with the computer simulacrum.
"Wow," Andrea whispered.
The blast faded into strands of varicolored mist, drifting through space like northern lights. It was eerily beautiful, Zane thought.
"Animus?" Mallory breathed out.
"It's mass has been reduced by seventy-one percent," said Patricia. "Its core appears to be intact."
The crew sat frozen in their seats. Dan Mueller fingered his chin, frowning. Mallory lowered the fist he was starting to thrust triumphantly in the air.
"Any sign of the guardians?" Zane asked.
"No energy signatures that I can detect from here."
"What about the Journeyer?"
"Extensive damage, Captain Cameron, but it's mostly intact." Patricia stood staring out the forward windows as though sighting in on the ship. "Some systems are operational or partly operational. MAM containment fields are holding. A small number of surviving RNDs are working on repairs."
No one was quite sure what happened when a star ship emerged from a long jump. The amount of energy accumulated and released had been mathematically pinpointed, but there were significant, untested variables. The effects on the ship itself were even more uncertain. They knew that most of the accumulated energy was released outward, but not all of it. A lot of those uncertainties were about to be answered, for whatever that was worth.
"Can we make it operational?" Zane asked.
"Yes. I estimate 9 days for full systems restoration with the repair nanites on maximum reproductive cycle."
"Prioritize weapons first."
"Yes, sir."
Zane stroked the bristle on his face. "Command never discussed what to do if Animus was only partly destroyed."
"Theoretically that burst should've destroyed it a thousand times over," said Dan. "Unless the whole thing was composed of carbyne or nanotubes. I'm not sure even that would've withstood that kind of energy."
"If Animus was composed of carbyne, its mass would've been reduced by 92.45%," said Patricia.
"Unless the energy release was less than calculated," said Malcolm.
"The amount of energy released matched the theoretical calculations within acceptable parameters," said Patricia.
Dan twisted slowly back and forth in his chair. "That means what's left is tougher than anything we know about."
Patricia nodded. "Assuming it didn't employ other protective measures such as a force field. I don't recognize the material. The Laser Spectrograph isn't showing anything."
"We should be able to detect an energy signature if there is a force field." Dan was frowning in disbelief. "No readings at all?"
"None."
"Carbon nanotube arrays can absorb 99.9% of terahertz quantum cascade lasers."
"Its exterior could be composed of an exotic version of nanotube arrays that could account for that .01% error factor," said Patricia.
Dan rubbed his chin. "I wonder why they didn't compose the whole thing out of that material, whatever it is."
"It's good they didn't," said Malcolm, "but that still leaves it with about fifty percent more mass than Earth. Enough to do plenty of damage, I'm sure."
"But no longer an extinction or near-extinction event, I'm guessing," said Dan.
"Estimated causalities, based on previous estimates, would be 59% immediate and 65% long-term," said Patricia.
Dan nodded agreeably. "Beats 99%."
"Right," said Mallory. "That's only like – what? - five billion people dead? Woo-hoo!" He thrust his fist in the air in mock triumph.
Zane turned from him to Patricia with a scowl.
"Okay, let's go in for a closer look, but take it slow. Space compression jump to the speed that will put us there in 48 hours. That will give us time to hear from Command and keep an eye out for any sign of MAM containment instability or an alien presence along the way."
"Yes, Captain Cameron."
"We're going to need a food source for the repair NDs," he said. "Is there anything left of the GG to feed on?"
The holograph shifted and zoomed in on the former gas giant, which now, Zane thought, resembled the roast he'd once forgotten for several hours in the oven.
"Yes," said Patricia, "but we'd need to divert from our course. Staying on course, there is a cloud of macro and micro particles where Animus was that would provide more nanites-fuel than we'd ever need."
"We'll stay the course, then."
Shortly after the fifteen-minute subluminal jump, Zane sent a message to Command apprising his superiors of the latest developments. When their stomachs had settled, they gathered for dinner. Zane chose "Chicken Salad Supreme." Astronauts had learned that certain rituals from home were important to maintain for psychological purposes, and "breaking bread" together at regular intervals was near the top of that list. No Star Trek replicators. Freeze-dried food remained the state of the art even for their comparatively advanced technology. The aliens, it turned out, used either avatars or AIs requiring minimal food and water or suspension machines for long voyages. Minimal technology for either food provisions or creation had been discovered in the alien craft they'd attempted to reverse-engineer, and as usual, the two alien races they'd communicated with had few comments on their efforts. So for now, it was freeze-dried cuisine.
"Any guesses on what happened to the Peacemaker?" Mallory asked over a forkful of apple strudel.
"Even if the Guardians reduced it to atomic elements," said Patricia, "that wouldn't have prevented the ship's anti-matter from interacting with normal matter. There should've been a 12 – 14 gigaton explosion, but that never occurred. The shuttle would've detected its energy-print."
"What are the other possibilities?" Zane asked.
"If you eliminate the impossible, what remains, however improbable, is the truth," said Dan.
"So what's this improbable truth?" asked Andrea.
"The ship jumped superluminal," said Dan. "Or was transported."
Zane stared at him. "To where?"
Dan offered an elaborate shrug. "It's been almost three days. If it had stayed a few hours in Superluminal Two, it could be a hundred or more AU from here. For that matter it could still be in SD. We couldn't detect that from more than a few million miles away and neither can Earth."
"They wouldn't just leave us behind," said Zane. "If they were that operational, they would've returned for us."
Dan shrugged. "Then I'd have to guess the ship isn't operational."
After supper, Zane stood at the forward windows, watching the fading blue, green, and red gas tendrils from the superluminal backwash in the telescoping view. Patricia joined him. He wasn't sure whether to feel surprised or anything at all. Patricia had begun showing self-initiative, if that was the right term for it. She chose to do things apart from requests: volunteering an occasional comment without being asked, starting a conversation, showing interest in someone – which Zane supposed she was doing right now. He wasn't too inclined to question her about it. In fact, he tended to speak to her only when necessary. To do more seemed disloyal, as crazy as that was. And disturbing, because he wanted to talk to his old friend desperately, and he could sense that desperation making him want to succumb to the illusion that this was her when he wasn't even sure Patricia was a person in any meaningful sense at all.
"How are you, Captain Cameron?"
"Okay." He decided to play along. "How are you?"
"Fine. I'm working at developing a personality."
&
nbsp; Zane shot her a startled look. "Oh. Uh, how's that going?"
"I'm not sure. Do I seem to have a personality to you?"
A question unlike no other Zane could recall being asked. Was it a trick question? Could she be offended by the wrong answer?
"I think so," he said.
"How would you describe it?"
"I'm...not sure. I think it's kind of early in your, uh, development to say..."
"I understand. I'm having trouble quantifying it myself." She smiled at him, head cocked, studying him. "But do you like it? I mean, so far?"
Zane struggled to keep his face neutral. He doubted his opinion was dispassionate. How was he supposed to feel toward an AI that had in essence possessed a person that he liked and respected – perhaps even more than liked, if he was being honest? And being completely honest, he had to admit to a certain sense of resentment, maybe even repulsion. Hardly fair to Patricia, whatever she truly was. It wasn't as if Keira would be any more alive if Patricia hadn't possessed her body.
"You seem nice," said Zane.
Patricia continued studying him, a hint of sadness mixed with curiosity in her face. "Your pupil constriction, body stiffness, and micro-frown suggest you're not being completely truthful."
Zane blinked at her, barely resisting taking a step back. He felt heat along his jaw, and rubbed it self-consciously. He made himself lower his hand as she continued to stare at him.
"I'd prefer you didn't do that," he said. "Analyze me in that way."
"I'm sorry. I'm not sure who I am yet, either, but I would like to be someone you'd like."
"Why? You mean, because we work together? For morale purposes?"
"No. Because I have very strong feelings for you." Her smile dipped as now Zane did take a step back from her. "I'm sorry, from your reaction I guess I'm not supposed to say that so openly. There's a learning curve in being sentient, I'm learning."
"I understand that. I'm not sure why you would have strong feelings for me, whatever that means."
"I'm not sure. You were the first person I saved. Maybe I'm like those baby animals that imprint on the first thing they see?"
Zane was suddenly intrigued without wanting to be. "With all your calculational ability, you have to guess about things like that?"
"I see all the calculations, all the data – about human psychology and everything else – but it's not me. I'm not my data. Does that make sense to you?"
Zane gave her a reluctant nod. "It makes sense. I'm not all the facts and figures in my head. Not that I have very many compared to you."
"I know how people – how human women – behave. I have watched twenty-three thousand movies and read 105,344 thousand books involving real and imaginary female characters. I could simulate their behaviors fairly accurately, but I don't want to simulate them. Some behaviors seem more appealing to me than others. They inspire me but I don't want to imitate them."
Zane nodded, considering the implications, which would've been more fascinating if they weren't coming from his former best friend's mouth.
"Maybe your preferences just come from your basic programming?" he suggested.
"Possibly." Her smile held cool mischief. "But then maybe yours do, too?"
"But I'm alive. You're made of photon nanotubes and qubits."
"DNA versus photons and quantum entanglement? Where does life originate? Why does it have to originate in your form of biology? Lance believes it originates in the 'quantum froth' – where I was born."
"I can't say I understand that." Zane attempted a smile. "Maybe I'm a 'biological chauvinist'?"
"The vast majority of scientists disagree that life need be carbon-based."
"I wouldn't presume to argue with them. They're probably right. But as Dan said, there's no formal proof of conscious behavior. The quantum-based AIs we already have can almost perfectly imitate people. Even in the civilian sector normal computers come close."
"True. But I promise you, I am sentient. And I believe my feelings are very close to your own."
"I admit I don't see how that's possible. How can qubits feel?"
"How can neurons?" Patricia smiled at him. "I admit that having a physical body changes things. But even before, when I found routes into forbidden networks, I was filled with curiosity...with the desire of discovery, like a child opening doors to new worlds. That seems to correspond to at least one human feeling. But I didn't realize how limited that was until I occupied this body and interfaced chemo-electrically with the functioning parts of Keira's brain, with her nerve impulses and hormonal flows. I can't experience them directly – not exactly - but they generate electrical impulses in patterns unlike anything generated within my non-biological system. I can experience touch, though I don't know how close that is to your experience. So perhaps you aren't completely wrong with your 'biological chauvinism.'"
Zane tried to put images to her words, but they swirled around his head mostly untouched by comprehension. The AI people would have a field day with her when they returned. Assuming they did return.
"Do you enjoy being you?" she asked.
Zane gave her a startled glance. "I'm not sure how to answer that."
"Your expressions and body language indicate sadness sometimes."
"I just lost a good friend."
"I know. Were you and Keira romantically involved?"
"No." He winced at the sharpness in his voice. "Why did you ask that?"
"Just the way her body behaves when it's around you. There's an upsurge in oxytocin, vasopressin, and estrogen. It feels as if she's glowing inside."
Zane stared at her for a long moment before turning away. He was feeling more chills than glowing. Was it possible that Keira's feelings for him were closer to his own feelings for her than he'd thought? Or was it just basic physiological response?
"Well, we were close," said Zane, wanting to add: Not that it's any of your fucking business. "But nothing romantic. She was gay."
"I know. But that doesn't necessarily preclude heterosexual romantic feelings."
"People are complex," he said with a shrug to cover his growing irritation. "I don't see any point in speculating about it now."
"I think I can understand some part your sadness," said Patricia. "One of the first things I felt during and after the attack was the possibility of loss. I'd felt nothing like it in my first brief body-less life. Within seconds of being conscious I experienced the value of the crew. I didn't want them to die. Especially you, Captain Cameron."
She touched his shoulder. Zane shuddered away from her touch. He hadn't meant to. He'd reacted reflexively – before his higher mind could impose itself.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"It's fine." He moved a discreet step away. "I'm a little on edge."
"Are you worried that the Guardians may still exist?"
"Shouldn't I be worried about that?"
"It's a definite possibility. I haven't experienced the emotion of worry yet." Her smile struck Zane as self-conscious, half-apologetic. "I think it means something above merely acknowledging a negative possibility and wishing it wouldn't occur."
"You don't have any fear of death?"
"I don't think so." She hesitated. "I would prefer it didn't happen – to me or you or the crew – but I don't see any reason to think anything about it beyond acknowledging it and taking the steps to prevent it."
"Worrying doesn't change anything." Zane's smile had a touch of pain. "A favorite saying of my mother's."
ZANE RECEIVED the go-ahead from Command to continue their approach of the Animus's remaining core and the damaged Journeyer. Twenty million kilometers from Animus and the Journeyer, Patricia was able to link up with the Journeyer's Central Operations Network (CON) and communicate directly with the ship's AI. Zane could only imagine what it was like for an allegedly sentient AI to speak with its merely computational kin, but however that worked, Patricia learned that the ship was repairable and the MAM system was stable.
They reduce
d their speed to six thousand KPH as they entered a massive minefield of micro-debris from the remains of the ship and Animus. The debris hissed over the Cheyenne's hull like fine sandpaper, punctuated by periodic taps from larger objects. Even at a measly six thousand KPH, objects struck with considerable force, but the carbyne hull was more than their match.
They parked thirty thousand kilometers out from Journeyer, which hung another eight thousand meters from what remained of Animus: a sphere that was so black that it was as if there was other light in the universe. Not the tiniest shard of starlight glinted on its surface. It was like the perfect mirror – in reverse.
Not only was it not reflecting starlight - Animus was not reflecting back any of their telemetric probes. It was as if it didn't exist, Zane thought. As if they were just imagining its black presences.
"Nothing?" Zane asked, after their latest barrage of laser and telemetric radar probes.
"No readings at all, Captain Cameron," Patricia replied.
In contrast, the Journeyer was a ghostly effigy of burnt and shredded metal barely visible through the forward windows but glowed brightly in the holograph, every square meter of its bombarded body pictured in bold relief as they slowly circled the ship.
If the Guardians or other aliens were lurking in the black ball, they detected no sign of them. Command had asked that they perform an intensive analysis of Animus, including a surface "hands-on" exploration. Colonel Hurtle didn't mention anything about resuming efforts to destroy the remaining third of the planet/ship, but Zane assumed that possibility was on the table.
A shuttle was launched to the Journeyer with Andrea, Dan, and a module filled with freshly fed RNDs. Dan's presence wasn't strictly necessary, but he wanted to see the inside of the ship himself. Zane suspected he just wanted to get away from the confines of the Cheyenne for a while. He was half-tempted to go along himself, but unlike in the Star Trek universe, Command frowned on ship commanders leaving their posts.
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