Analog SFF, June 2006

by Dell Magazine Authors

  Not a subtle hint. “Lothwer, the other group is done. Perhaps we can cover our remaining topics by radio conference?

  “That is agreeable."

  “Joe,” Art netted the translator AI. “What's your impression?"

  “No reticence. My guess is Lothwer will be happy to get us off the ship."

  How accurate were voice-stress analyses of the aliens? He might never know, but what else did he have to go on? “We'll need five minutes to wrap up, Ambassador."

  Art summarized his action items, half-listening to the background chatter from the other meeting through Chung's still-open mike. There were chairs scraping the deck, milling-around noises, thudding bootsteps, and then—

  “Shit! Ouch! My eyes!” Amid the human shouts were the high-pitched warbles of the Snakes; their translated utterances as pithy as and even more emphatic than those of the humans. “Okay, that's better."

  “Is everyone okay?” Art asked.

  “Yes.” Chung sounded shaken. “That must have seemed scary. From habit, I tapped the wall leaving the room to turn off the lights. Instead I turned the lights up. Of course our visors adapted and our hosts quickly overrode what I'd done through the ship's automation. My apologies to you and your crew, Foremost."

  Both groups had converged at the airlock when it finally struck Art: Snakes use implants. Had he seen any manual controls outside the airlock? “Foremost, why does Victorious have manual light switches?"

  “Only a few rooms do, for possible human use."

  That made sense. It accounted for the light's brightness and the placement of the control at a height where a human, not a much shorter K'vithian, would reflexively reach.

  A virtual throat cleared itself in Art's mind's ear. “The curious thing about Mashkith's answer,” Joe said, “is all the stress in his voice."

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 16

  Gwu had learned many things this trip. Among the least of her new skills was to slow her gait to what she considered a near standstill. It irritated her captors, several of whom were leading her yet again to Mashkith's cabin, to scurry to keep pace with her. She cast a rueful glance upward, where long lines of empty bolt holes showed the one-time mounting points of suspended ceiling rails and hooks. Oh, to swing freely around and around Harmony's grand circumference. For an instant, the thought made her feel young again.

  They eventually reached their destination, and a guard knocked timidly. She entered unescorted. “My greetings, Foremost. Thank you for seeing me.” Her voice rasped. Sulfurous fumes inevitably leaked under the edges of her breathing mask, and she had been spending more time than ever in repair teams. She settled into a low chair, in the near eye-to-eye position Mashkith demanded.

  “Water?” he offered.

  She blinked at the unexpected, albeit minor, courtesy. Progress on his undisclosed-to-her plans evidently outweighed any concerns he might have about the ship's ongoing ecological decline. In the cabin's holo tank, small ships swarmed. The expected resupply? “Yes. Thank you.” Gwu accepted the bottled water, its nozzle adapted to an inlet in her mask.

  Strategy and deception were also skills mastered on this journey. So she automatically wondered: Did his good mood favor her plan?

  “Ka, what problems with repair? Our available options?"

  His good spirits could dissipate quickly. She plunged ahead. “Foremost, when this ship ... changed ownership, many networks shut down.” Had evidently been, more or less, lobotomized, lest the automation be used against the invaders. Sometimes K'vithian biocomputers were grafted on as replacements. Other times subnets were severed, left to operate in a degraded, standalone mode. Yet other times they had simply made do without automation. “Lacking full automation, we could not see subtle degradation of the environmental systems, nor detect early warning signs. Those problems have accumulated."

  “Yes. Last-meeting topic. What news?"

  “What is new, Foremost, is the inadequacy of our efforts to re-enable the suspended functions.” Years of neglect had taken their toll; little sabotage was required to maintain the reactivated systems in a state of instability. “Without restoring more of the higher-level controls, the onboard ecosystem will soon collapse."

  He studied the claws of one hand. Did the gesture denote thoughtfulness or warning? “Sufficient time now for Hunters to supervise. Additional system restoration approved."

  “Foremost, we lack the parts. Too much has been rendered unreliable by sulfur compounds in the atmosphere. Too many spares have been lost. We need more. Much more."

  “Full inventory available for your use."

  “Too little remains, and much of that will also have been damaged by contamination. I believe we must buy more.” To his bared teeth, an unambiguous expression on any carnivore, she hastily added, “I know the humans prefer K'vithian biocomps for most purposes, but they have also licensed the Unity's photonics."

  “Nanotech an invention of your people. Production of replacement parts by synthesis?"

  “Foremost, in other circumstances we could.” If you had not lobotomized our computers. “Without repairing the infrastructure, which also requires the new photonic parts, we dare not. The only safe way to operate nano-replicators is under aware real-time controls executing on massively redundant hardware.” She studied the holo tank. “The humans speak so picturesquely. Their term for the threat from escaped nanotech is ‘gray goo.’”

  “Understood. With what payment for new parts?” He pointed at the holo, at the awaiting supply ships. “Always a price."

  Whose price? The humans’ or the Foremost's? The latter, she decided.

  All her scheming had aimed for just this moment.

  “Foremost, I humbly ask a question of my own.” Into lengthening silence, she blurted, “Will my crew-kindred ever be allowed off this ship?"

  His head traced a horizontal circle. “Perhaps, once we have completed another voyage."

  Meaning a new source of antimatter, which must reflect alliance with the humans. Meaning, presumably, a return to the K'vithian solar system. Meaning, at best, the exchange of one prison for another and eventual death in captivity.

  That grim response was only what Gwu had expected, and she had evoked it purposefully. The Foremost had to accept that isolation had finally driven her to a desperate bargain. He must believe her finally ready to sacrifice solidarity with the light-years-distant Unity to meet the urgent needs of the crew-kindred. “Then my duty is clear. To protect the crew-kindred, I must see the ship repaired.” Gwu slumped in a manner she felt confident the translator AI would report as defeat. “I have a confession."

  “Explanation, ka.” Talon tips reappeared.

  “Far away"—where we were captured—"you demanded any InterstellarNet funds we carried. I told you the records had been destroyed.” As they would have been, had she not awakened directly into captivity. “I wish to ... add something to that reply. It is true that the computer shutdown when you ... came aboard ... damaged the system's higher-order functions. The financial records were destroyed.” Remorseful pause. “I chose not to mention that those records might be recoverable from archive."

  The words rushed out now, Gwu uncertain herself how much was nerves, how much the premeditated semblance of panic and sincerity. “Unspent, these credits will revert to institutions on Chel Kra. They will be reclaimed when all hope for the ship's return has been abandoned. Letting reversion happen was my way to repay to the Unity a small bit of the cost of the voyage."

  Curiosity and avarice won out over immediate anger. “Reversion by this time?"

  “Probably not. We are a patient and cautious people, and the ship is just now overdue to return to the Double Suns. But even if these funds were reclaimed ... they came from trade between our two peoples. If they have been spent, it is most likely they were exchanged with K'vithians or a K'vithian trade agent. And even if not...."

  Mashkith was alert now. Rapt. Greedy. “Nine other InterstellarNet civilizations. Good o
dds."

  “When our ship left the Double Suns, the United Planets was not even one of the Unity's major trading partners. Almost certainly, the financial codes we carry were not spent with the humans.” She slouched further in her pretended shame. “I infer we will have departed long before radio-based protocols can uncover any discrepancy."

  “How much?"

  Cautious planning had provided extensive mission reserves for possible repairs. The amount Gwu named would tempt anyone. “I'll need access to the conscious level of the automation to unlock and decrypt that archive."

  Slumped in a pose of regret, Gwu willed herself to stillness. You are ashamed of your weakness. You fear punishment for your admitted deceit. You are beaten. She was only vaguely aware of his pacing back and forth across the cabin. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  “Ka."

  Her head whipped up.

  “My advice to you: no more deception. Ever."

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 17

  Keffah perched on her guest stool, studying the large printout draped across a wardroom table. It was far easier to mark up a hardcopy than contrive a shared infosphere workspace to which Security would acquiesce. A mirrored visor hid her face. “My eyes are still watering."

  Get over it, Eva thought, unsure whether her impatience was directed at the Snake engineer or Chung. In the latter case, the issue was her continued exclusion from Victorious—although Art and Keizo assured her they were never permitted to see anything of interest. The Chung/lighting fiasco was as near as the mission had come to firsthand disclosure of a technical feature. At least Actium was a shirt-sleeve environment for her. “What do you think?"

  The Snakes’ BEC containment design was solid from the first iteration. Ironing out details on a docking collar to mate human and K'vithian BEC containers had turned out to be the hard part. For some reason Keffah was slow to address that part of the job, even after Snake engineers toured Himalia and had a long Q-and-A session with key staff there. Eva had gotten frustrated enough to tackle the interface design herself with technicians from Himalia. Now she patiently fielded Keffah's questions.

  “It should suffice.” Without apparent transition, Keffah began rolling up the printout. Charming as always. “When will the device be fabricated?"

  Art would have pointed out bluntly that no final decision had been made to refuel Victorious. Eva found his lack of political correctness quietly amusing. Art had had his own question about the antimatter exchange approach, which she used to change the subject. “Keffah, a co-worker commented that your BEC containment design looks like a Centaur approach."

  Keffah stiffened. “What do you mean?"

  She didn't need Joe's voice-stress analysis to recognize defensiveness. “The critical real-time control module is entirely Centaur photonics devices. That's a very key function, when even the slightest fluctuation in the containment would mean disaster."

  “Humans use K'vithian biocomps. You also use Centaur photonics, or you would not recognize them."

  We are not defensive about using either imported technology. “That is true."

  She wished Art were here. True, he had little to contribute on BEC containment, but he sure seemed to understand the Snakes better than most. Alas, Chung had him off troubleshooting some bureaucratic SNAFU. She pictured Art fuming, and it made her smile.

  Ship's instruments reported a surge in radio traffic with Victorious. What are we consulting about, hmm?

  Keffah must have gotten a go-ahead. “Your colleague is correct. We obtained Centaur BEC technology many years ago. The Foremost suggested it might be best to apply a design from the ship's library rather than redevelop it. Why take chances with antimatter?"

  Centaur-licensed antimatter technology? Even if Art had not once told her, she would have known T'bck Fwa refused to discuss the topic. She was one of several off-base researchers aligned with the Himalia program to have inquired. “No one here will argue about caution with antimatter."

  “Eva, you did not comment about docking-collar availability."

  “We can build one within days, once a decision is made to proceed.” Earth days, she clarified to the translator. “That presumes we have one of your transfer vessels to test with."

  “I will send one over immediately."

  How would being twenty years from home make me feel? Antsy or indifferent to a few days, one way or another? Eva couldn't decide.

  Nor could she shake the feeling Keffah's eagerness was about changing the subject.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 18

  T'bck Ra awoke into chaos and catastrophe.

  Nothing was as it should be. His clock insisted long years had elapsed unseen, time enough to have completed the mission. How could that be, when he had no memories even of having reached their outward-bound destination?

  Take good care of our friends. The plea echoed in his thoughts, its context lost to him, as he struggled for understanding.

  If his navigational sensors were to be believed, Harmony was in the Sol system. Ships of human design surrounded it; one even rested on its docking platform. K'vithians roamed the interior, while the crew-kindred were confined to farming bays or led in small groups by armed escorts.

  Holes gaped in his awareness, and any pattern eluded him. Whole networks had been severed, and sensor outages riddled his functioning subsystems. Alarms demanded his attention. So many auto-initiated diagnostic routines and failure-mode effect analyses were executing, so many emergency reconfiguration routines were cycling through long combinatorial sequences of alternate power buses and signal routings, and so many processing nodes had failed or vanished entirely, that the residual computing capacity available to him for thought was limited.

  Take good care of our friends. A memory recovered from archive revealed those to be the ka's words.

  Had he merited her trust?

  He found he had no control over the ship's position, neither close-range fusion drive nor the interstellar drive. He could not alter the ship's spin, nor operate hatches, nor tune the environmental system. He could read data from lidar, but could neither initiate nor aim ranging pulses.

  T'bck Ra took inventory of his resources. Lists of operational sensors lengthened. Network connectivity maps grew in complexity and proven alternative paths. The computational demands of autonomic functions receded as fault-recovery routines successfully configured backup nodes. He extracted the data embedded in low-level processors and recovered the contents of more and more distributed archives. Everything that he discovered he fused into higher-order information. Situational awareness sharpened.

  The more successfully T'bck Ra reconstructed his memory, the more ashamed he became.

  “Do not attempt to communicate,” K'choi Gwu ka said.

  The ka sat at an audiovisual station. It interfaced to the principal communications node through which a subset of his primary functions had been reactivated. On the wall behind her, an access panel hung open, its door scorched and warped. Dust disturbances among the photonic components suggested tiny handprints.

  Armed K'vithians stood nearby, observing. Ready to unplug me again. He was physically unable to respond, which the ka certainly knew. The safe-mode reboot did not restore output interfaces. Her utterance was advice of some kind, not the command it implied.

  Curiosity about the ka's words did not stop other thoughts from swirling, nor newfound memories from reproaching: I unplugged myself.

  Had the crew-kindred not understand how his structure derived from their psychology? That their withdrawal into the suspended animation tanks made his isolation all the more intolerable?

  Left alone on the great starship, he had brooded until he, too, found an answer. Cold sleep was not available to him ... but delegation was. He had paused all higher reasoning powers, leaving Harmony under the supervision of sophisticated but non-cognizant lower-level processes. His self-aware capabilities would be reawakened upon arrival at their very distant destination, or upon
notification by the autopilot function of any danger.

  Too late, the Unity's recall had overtaken the starship. That message was unexpected, but in no way dangerous. The nonsentient algorithms to which T'bck Ra had delegated authority detected the message, recorded it for eventual consideration, and otherwise ignored it. Just as, on the outermost fringes of the destination solar system, those unimaginative routines failed to perceive danger in the tangential approach of an interplanetary vessel, or in its docking, or in the tracing by the K'vithian intruders of his major fiber-optic networks.

  The synchronized attack on his primary comm nodes was recognized as a threat. The automation tried to rouse him. Random fragmentary sensations from that aborted reawakening now tortured him: circuits failing, nodes falling silent, sensors reporting the incomprehensible.

  He felt utter despair. Logic said this had all transpired years and light-years away, but he had no intervening memories. The surgical strike which had triggered the alarms that attempted to revive him had also stymied the reboot. He had never regained full consciousness and control.

  In an unending moment of paralyzed helplessness, T'bck Ra confronted his shame. He should never have abdicated his responsibilities to unthinking software. By doing so, he had failed to deserve the ka's trust. Was this the meaning of nightmare?

  The ka rebooted me. He focused his attention on her.

  “Be aware that there has been a change in control. The K'vithians now command.” She summarized briefly the occupation of the ship, the environmental contamination from K'vithian enclaves, the urgent need for repair parts. “Accordingly, you are to recover and release from archive the reserve credit file ‘ka 391541.'” She keyed in an output-mode activation. “Print a copy at this station. Do so immediately."

  He had much to relate, much to ask, and more for which to apologize, but the ka had told him not attempt to communicate. T'bck Ra used the printer only to produce the pages of access data and authentication codes that characterized the reserve account.