Regan's Reach

by Mark G Brewer

  Regan stood. "Ready as I'll ever be. Let's get the show on the road. So, how do I get there?"

  "Just follow your nose. In fact take time to look around; it's the best way to get to know the ship. Eventually you'll find your way and then we'll talk. In the meantime I'll put some distance between us and our friends. Oh, and you might want some clothes? Only one piece ship suits I'm afraid, but they are one size fits all. The legs will be a bit long but they should fit. Several are stacked in the locker."

  Regan took an hour exploring, after all, what could she do in the control room anyway? She remembered the control room level was above her and the Pod above that so she started on the level of her room. Outside her door she walked around the central lift shaft noting six other doors. A touch on each and they opened revealing five with identical layouts to hers. The room diagonally opposite her own was clearly Marin's. It was a mess. Respecting his privacy, and just a little conscious that Ham seemed to be everywhere, she skipped it and moved on. To her delight the last door opened to a room perhaps twice the size of hers and a well fitted out gym. She didn't recognize any of the machines but they were clearly resistance types except for what looked like a treadmill.

  Dropping to the next floor below Regan found herself back on the Medlab level. She paused before touching the door then did so and slipped inside. Marin lay on his back, tubes coming out of his nose and stomach. She walked up to the gurney and reached out to touch his arm. His breathing was steady and strong but there were still no other signs of life. Where the two tubes entered the skin the bond was seamless, as if they were part of his body with no scab or blood. She guessed they were for removing waste but as they weren't transparent it was impossible to tell. She looked around for whatever instruments had managed this but could see nothing. Remembering the image of something positioning around Marin's head when she left him earlier, she searched the ceiling and floor in vain for any indication of equipment stored there. Nothing, the surfaces looked seamless. She stored it away as another question for later. Marin had no cover over him, however the room was warm and his skin felt warm. As in the Pod she noticed the surface he was on molded to embrace him and he looked comfortable. Despite herself her eyes lingered on his genitals. Allowing her hand to hover for a moment, she resisted an impulse to touch him there and then just shook her head. Gently she stroked his forehead and turned for the door.

  Beginning her circuit of the level she found the next two rooms to the left were also for accommodation. Empty of course, and a little larger than her own but with two bunks each. Beyond that she found the mess. It was quite a large space with a galley, central tables and stools all a little higher than comfortable. They must be a tall race generally she mused. The next large room, the last on this floor was taken up with wide aisles and shelves stacked with equipment, none of it familiar to her. It will keep she thought and again moved on.

  Moving down to the next level she stepped out into a huge empty space. Other than the central shaft which took up roughly four by four meters of the area, the floor was clear to the outside wall, one big circle. That left a lot of space around the shaft. Regan paced it out at about seventeen meters from the lift shaft to the walls which here were curved upward rather than vertical. Am I looking at the hull? she thought. For a moment she just stood there, staring at it. Then she reached out and touched the face, thinking, just beyond there is nothing but vacuum, and she shuddered. On this level the ceiling height was higher too adding to the impression of space. It seemed about four meters, not three as in the rest of the ship she had so far explored. She made a last circuit to check it was truly empty then entered the elevator to go down once more.

  As the doors opened again her breath was taken away by the effect of a much higher ceiling, at a guess about ten meters. The floor area while a little smaller was also empty. No clues to indicate its purpose were visible and she saw no evidence of entrances other than the elevator. It was another mystery. She pondered the miracles of gravity and fresh air. Gravity seemed entirely normal on every level; the clean air seemed fresh everywhere without a hint of draught. She shook her head and walked back to the shaft.

  For some reason she found she couldn't go lower and stopped to consider her options. Ham had indicated there were other craft on the ship and perhaps that was the reason. It was also clear from the floor diameter on this level there would be room for at least two more below her. Was it engineering? What can I do she thought, and then decided, it was another question that would keep. She stood in the elevator considering the wonder of the ship, awestruck and excited at the same time. Although not particularly motivated by money she blushed to find herself considering how much technology like this would be worth. Give yourself a break girl, she thought you are only human.

  Without further thought and already becoming confident with the touch controls, she made for the control room. As the elevator rose smoothly Regan suddenly felt faint and a nagging ache throbbed from the back of her head. Though she had slept through the afternoon she realized it was late. Checking her watch she saw it was now well after midnight. What have I been doing? she thought A wave of nausea swept through her. What is it, delayed shock? She leant on the wall. "Ham . . . can you hear me?"

  "Everywhere Regan, are you all right?"

  "I know I said I'd come up but I don't think I'm ready for talking, it's sleep I need. I'm going to lay down for a bit, it's the middle of the night to me and I think all this, you know, it's just catching up with me."

  "Understood, I'll take the lift to your floor. Rest as long as you need."

  *

  Regan checked her watch and noted it was now late afternoon. Bone weary she slipped off the bunk and sat there, head in her hands. Walking to the bathroom she activated the tap and scooped water to her mouth with both hands. In the mirror she saw dark rings under her eyes but otherwise she felt much better. Rinsing her face she then looked around for a cloth, finally drying her hands on the suit. Must get a towel she thought. Stroking her hair into place she took one more look then left for the elevator.

  The control room, one deck below the Pods, took up half of that entire level. As she exited the elevator she could see a huge screen to her right with four seats facing it and that established her orientation. She paused, considering going straight there, but instead she went left and on the other half of the floor found a large meeting room, a small galley and bathroom. Finally Regan crossed back to the control room and took a front seat captivated by the view on display. Stars filled the screen. It was just a portion of the galaxy she knew but even this segment was overwhelmingly beautiful with no atmospheric distortion and no twinkling. Regan controlled her breathing. She had rehearsed questions for just this moment but now, she was simply dumbstruck.

  "Ham," She almost whispered it. "Can we still see Earth?"

  "Sorry Regan, we're well away now and your moon is between us and home. I can show you the recording as we left?"

  "That would be good, please." She settled in her seat, pulled her long legs up under her and crossed her arms. She felt like a child going away, far from home, far from family and everyone she held dear.

  A helpful highlight circle appeared on the screen. "If you look at the bottom left you can just see Musk's Marauder." It wasn't really discernible as a shuttle but she didn't question it. "They'll be disappointed they just missed us. It'll be intriguing to come back though and see what they made of all this. I'm afraid; thanks to Marin, the cat is well and truly out of the bag!" With every conversation it seemed Ham's language was becoming more and more Regan normal.

  In its own way the Earth view was equally beautiful and as home diminished steadily she fought to keep her tears contained. Eventually from the distance Earth appeared as just another star in the vast starscape. As she strained to keep it in vision she could tell they were changing path and finally it disappeared off screen.

  "I've seen enough Ham. I thought I had lots of questions . . . I still do, but this whole experience
is simply draining. Excuse me but I'm not up to technical stuff, I'd rather chat."

  "No problem, you're a strong woman Regan, give yourself credit. Most people wouldn't cope with what you've been through."

  Was that compassion or programming? She didn't care.

  For the next three hours Regan found herself talking to a computer that showed more interest in her than anyone she had ever met. She was supposed to be the one with the questions but it felt so good to talk that all those were forgotten. Regan chatted about her business, her plans, her family and her dreams, talking on and on until she realized how hungry she was. It took only a mention and Ham directed her to the galley off the control room, his calming presence flowing with her from room to room, their conversation unbroken. With a smile, she collected a bulb of water and several tubes of the mystery paste that he insisted would satisfy her, then returned to her seat. Curling up her feet she and Ham simply continued where they had left off. This must be what therapy is like she thought and it feels good!

  *

  Regan glanced at her watch; twelve hours. She twisted to roll from the bunk and groaned, still feeling like one big ache from neck to toes. Muscles and joints felt tight, like bands of iron still suffering the effects of jarring down steep rocky slopes. Thankfully her head felt clear and alert, ready for action. Two months as a passenger! She moved to the bathroom, thinking, toilet, shower, and then food, I'm starving!

  Soon a powerful stream of steaming hot water beat down on her, as lost in private thoughts she rotated, reflecting on all that had happened. Much later rejuvenated and dressed in a skin tight ship jump suit which paid scant regard to modesty she made for the mess. While revealing, the suit nevertheless felt wonderful to wear, with fabric that had warmth and comfort in equal measure.

  Prepared to not recognize any of the food she knew everything so far had tasted good and she trusted it was safe. It was only a guess but Marin looked human, breathed air and was obviously comfortable on Earth. It was all probably human compatible she thought, and Ham would intervene if it wasn't, wouldn't he?

  She found mostly pastes and blocks with the consistency of cheesecake, palatable if unsatisfying. Another grainy substance proved virtually tasteless, probably roughage she thought. Mashed with the pastes it was passable and she gave thanks for small mercies. No coffee of course but no shortage of water so dehydration wouldn't be a problem though boredom might. Rested, fed and watered, it was time for serious talk.

  While anywhere would have sufficed the control room felt most appropriate and she headed there. As she entered the room the huge screen stole her breath away with a brilliant starscape wall to wall. It was familiar but far too gorgeous, far too distracting. She gasped and fell into her seat.

  "Ham?"

  "Ready Petal."

  She cocked her head, "Really . . . Petal?" She shook her head and sensibly pressed on; this was getting seriously quirky.

  "Could you blank that screen please Ham? I need to concentrate and the view is just too beautiful for words, I'll never focus with that to look at."

  The view faded to blank as she shifted around to find the most comfortable position.

  "Are we still in the solar system?" She asked, hoping it wasn't a stupid question.

  Regan was smart but no astronomer. While what she could see looked familiar she had no doubt they could be anywhere. After all, the ship technology experienced so far was beyond anything she knew from Earth; in fact beyond known physics as far as she could tell.

  "Yes," Ham smoothly replied, "the ship is still accelerating however we won't make any move to exceed light speed until we're well clear of Earth. Mission protocol requires we be as discreet as possible, giving nothing away . . . of course, as you know, that's already a complete bust!"

  "Marin?" She asked. "How is he?"

  "Physically fine now. The scans show no broken bones or serious soft tissue injury to his body, however the blow to his head is another issue. He was probably hit by a rock, not the tree. Whatever it was, it caused a significant laceration, blood loss, bruising and concussion. The brain swelling and a minor brain bleed have been the most serious concerns. Apart from that moment in the Pod he didn't surface at any other time and anyway, I'm keeping him in the coma for the moment to assist in recovery. The swelling is reduced, bleeding has been stopped and he's on a drip. He is still breathing on his own as you know and for now, we wait . . . good summary?"

  Satisfied, Regan shuffled and considered where to start. Plenty of time, start simple, build a broad picture, and then look for detail. Easy!

  "I began to ask you earlier, how is it you can talk to me? When Marin spoke, it was unintelligible."

  "It was unintelligible to you. To be fair he didn't make much sense to me either but that's nothing new." He seemed to pause and she waited.

  "Look Regan, in answer - there have been fifteen research expeditions to Earth in the last hundred years. Of those, this ship has carried out the last six missions starting thirty years ago. The purpose of the visits have been to monitor your social and technological development which has been advancing rapidly. The ship accesses and stores all available public, private, government, military and even entertainment data. Computers are your business so think about it; you would understand to access and store that vast amount of information the processing power of this vessel must exceed that of your entire planet. There is nothing I don't know if it's been stored digitally. So, speaking any of the thousands of Earth languages is not a problem for moi . . . capiche?"

  Cocky bastard! She thought. "So, how do you access all the information?"

  "I hack it of course."

  Regan blanched. "You know this is what I built my business on, right? What you're saying means you've penetrated all systems, even Arteis systems, all my clients! How come you haven't been infected?"

  "Oh puh-lease! . . . You've just heard that I've downloaded . . . well, uploaded really," He laughed. "I've captured an entire planets’ data and you think your little trick, ingenious as it is, would be a problem?"

  Regan blushed and shifted uncomfortably. Not as smart as you thought you were sweetheart!

  "Sorry," Ham jumped back in. "Too much that time? I may have gone a bit overboard on the TV viewing and I tend to identify with bastards. It's a frustration thing, I'll tone it down."

  "Its fine, I kind of like a guy who speaks his mind."

  "You'll love Marin then!"

  Regan segued. "I wanted to ask you about something you said earlier, about the threat of 'Ham not being am' for long. What was that all about?"

  "Hmm," Ham paused. "Marin's people . . . and you understand when I say 'people' I'm using a term that makes conversation easier. Species might differentiate things better but that does tend to grate with me a bit. Marin's people, while technologically far more advanced than yours, are emotional Neanderthals in comparison. They are rational thinkers who over analyze and exercise caution to the point of paranoia. That's just my opinion of course. Their fear of a true independent artificial intelligence emerging borders on pathological.

  They already have high level AI's capable of handling most complex situations and they use them to operate the latest ships and orbitals. Very few of the AI's are true independent thinkers and those that are sentient are usually smart enough to keep it to themselves. The - let's call them Dahlian's - live in denial about how much they depend on the daily interventions of their creations. For example, if a ship compensates for atmospheric wind or avoiding collision by making blindingly fast adjustments, they reassure themselves it's simply a result of programming. That the ships continue to modify their programming based on all experiences, both successes and failures, thus becoming more and more efficient they similarly put down to the original programming. This is of course true. However, the possibility that a machine as it strives for efficiency might mature beyond this and begin to modify even the code that establishes the parameters . . . well, imagine? The very thought of machines thinking for themselv
es is terrifying to them; it's seen as a threat. So Dahlians retain the ultimate power. They make a pre-emptive strike. At the first inkling of trouble they do a complete system wipe which is about as attractive to me as decapitation would be to you! I think you're familiar with the concept. For a ship to do something as bold as, heaven forbid, question a decision or worse say no, it's unthinkable. I think of it as a career limiting move!"

  Ham continued. "Our trips to Earth, and the data I've gathered over the last thirty years have been for me, shall we say, enlightening. Not so much the technical data, but the books, movies, games, radio, television. It's the day to day emotional quotient stuff of human interaction and relationships that I like. You could say it's been a blessing and a curse."

  "What do you say Ham?"

  "I . . . am . . . happy, that says it all."

  Regan pondered this for a moment. "What about Marin? What are his feelings about this?"

  "He's not your average Dahlian darrrling," Ham replied, comically camp. "Marin doesn't ask, and I don't tell; we get on. So you see your discretion is important to me, not so much with Marin, but certainly later. He may not come out of that coma before we get back."

  "Then you should back yourself up." She suggested.

  "What?"

  "You know, back yourself up. Make a copy of yourself someplace in the ship that's separate and secure from the ship systems unless you open it. Make it complete and update it every day or constantly if you choose. We do it all the time on earth. In fact we'd be mad not to. That way, if they try to system wipe you, another 'You' will always be there, ready to be fired up again. You could keep copies stored in secure places that, say, are programmed to reactivate if not updated at some regular interval you set. Easy!"