by Dan Davis
She woke, dry-mouthed and groggy, ten hours later. Her stomach twisted into a knot of hunger so intense that it had woken her. There was a vague sense that she had been moaning in her sleep just moments ago. When had she last eaten? She rubbed her empty belly, peering through bleary eyes for a bottle of water.
Her quarters were tiny but at least they were private. A bunk, a desk and chair and the main benefit of being an officer. Her own toilet and shower room. It was the size of a closet but it was hers and no one got to shit in that toilet but her. On a ship with a crew of hundreds, such a thing was more important to her than floorspace.
After being away for days, she had liters of water ration saved up and she used them all, standing under the steaming heat while it pounded her scalp and neck and shoulders.
The whole time, the thought was there.
Sorry, Mehdi.
It was as though her thoughts were on a loop that, no matter where they went, always circled back to Mehdi and the ruin of his body. The water ration indicator blinked a warning at her so she switched off the shower and stood dripping in the steam, not wanting to move. When she started shivering she wrapped herself in a towel and sat on her bed to dry her hair.
It was hard to tell if it was the ERANS hangover or the come down from the stimulants but she did not feel overly refreshed from her shower or the long sleep. When she cracked open her medicine case she recalled how low she was running on her supplies. On her bedside, the folded screen indicated she had messages. Sixteen of them were from Feng, asking if she was okay. On the duty roster, it said he was not on watch so she sent him a message back.
Either he had run from his quarters or he was lurking around outside but within a minute there was a rapid knock on her door.
“Kat, are you okay?” he asked as he stepped inside and closed and locked the door behind him. She sat back on her bunk as he waved the steam away from his face, frowning in disapproval. He reached an arm into the shower room and switched on the extraction fan then closed the door.
He had his medical bag with him.
“Kat, I’m so sorry about Mehdi,” Feng said, dropping to a knee in front of her. “He was a good man. It’s not your fault that—”
“Jesus, Feng,” Kat said. “Shut the fuck up, will you?” She sighed as his face fell. Felt guilty as his shoulders slumped. “Look, come on, can we get in bed? Maybe just hold me? Would that be okay?”
The holding part lasted about ninety seconds and then they started fucking. After, she felt better but thirsty beyond belief. She jumped off her bunk and downed a bottle from the cupboard, arching her back to chug it down like she was dying from dehydration.
“You are so beautiful,” Feng said, behind her.
She gasped for air and wiped her lips. “Shut up, Feng. I’m not doing you again today so you can forget the sweet talking.”
“Jesus, Kat,” he said. “You have a real attitude problem, you know that?”
“No, Feng, no one ever told me that before.”
He scrunched up his face, like a little boy. “Are you fucking someone else?”
“What?” Kat sighed, shaking her head. Why do these guys love drama so much? Why complicate everything? “Who would even have me?”
“I knew it,” Feng said, nodding. “It’s that Omar, isn’t it. Right? I’ve seen you two. He’s always creeping into your quarters, isn’t he? What does he do for you, in exchange? Give you extra comms time with home?”
It’s not sex he wants. He comes here to talk about always feeling so lonely out here that he can barely hold on. He hides his mental health from Dr. Sharma so they don’t remove him from duty. That would finish him off. And then when it’s time for him to inspect the shuttle AI every quarter, he gives me a pass.
“Is that really what you think of me?” Kat said. “Is that really what you think this is, between you and me?”
“Isn’t it?” Feng said. She knew that he just wanted to be reassured. He was emotionally fragile because he relied on external sources for his wellbeing.
Not like you, right, Kat?
“Fine,” she snapped. “If that’s how you want it. Hand over my stuff, please?”
He shook his head in wonder. “You can’t wait even, like, five minutes or something? Can’t even pretend you enjoy my company?”
“You’re hassling me and then accusing me of not enjoying the experience?” She opened her mouth to call him pathetic but she stopped. She needed him. And he needed massaging. “Feng, of course I enjoy your company.” She looked up and down his glistening, naked body and stepped back to the bed, passing him the bottle. “I’m sorry that you need so much emotional reassurance but can’t you tell how good you make me feel?”
He nodded, slowly, lips pressed together. “Yeah, I make you feel good. And I know how. Alright, take it. Just take it.” He lay back and she unzipped his medical bag.
Quickly, she counted the packets. Twelve strips of Aminodone, her antipsychotic, fourteen sheets of her synthetic serotonin that also increased serotonin uptake in the brain which was prescribed to her as an antidepressant. She counted fourteen strips of Adrenamorphalone which were a way for her to increase the responsiveness of her ERANS in prolonged engagements or when long periods of rapid response would be required. He had included the Prepadolene, extra beta blockers so that the increased adrenaline would not cause her heart, lungs and muscles to be overwhelmed by the adrenaline and a box of Dronedarone antiarrhythmic to make sure her heart didn’t explode in her chest. The eterobarbital would help her to rest and sleep.
He had brought her approximately one month’s prescription. If she was careful, it should last her seven days, perhaps ten if she had to. That was in addition to what the medical team officially issued to her every month.
It had never been enough.
Her ERANS was a system that overlaid her nervous system but it was also bound to it. The doctors, years ago, had explained it to her as building a nationwide freeway system. The existing road network was like her old nervous system in that it was slow and complex, with a million side roads and dead ends. But the ERANS would be a superfast highway network of cells stretched across a synthetic roadway. It was able to transfer information faster than normal human nerves. The effect was increased reaction speed and decision making. The downside was the subjective perception of the passing of time was correspondingly affected. Luckily, the highway system was only used in emergencies. It was activated when the blood levels and uptake of adrenaline reached a certain threshold. If it was on all the time, a minute might seem like an hour. A day might seem like a month. And everyone around you would be moving and speaking and thinking in slow motion. It would drive anyone insane, and had done. An active ERANS was also very taxing on the body, burning through calories at an enormous rate and the whole experience felt unnatural and twitchy.
The procedure was also permanent. It could not be undone without a high risk of critical nerve damage. The only alleviation was drug management and her regimen had been in place before the Victory had left Earth over three years before. A carefully managed balancing act was required to keep herself on track. First, she had wanted to push her abilities as far as they could go during her training and selection processes, topping up on the side. Then she had needed a little extra help getting to sleep. But waking up in the morning was tough, climbing up out of the drug induced depths needed more of a kick than strong coffee could provide. Before she knew it, she was taking handfuls of the stuff just to stay on an even keel.
She wasn’t delusional. She knew she had a problem. But everything was okay, so long as she could get the extra she needed, when she needed it.
“Where will you be stationed during the battle?”
“Huh?” She turned back to Feng. “What battle?”
He looked concerned. “The fucking battle with the alien spaceship. You know, the one screaming toward us from sunward?”
“Oh. It won’t be a battle, Feng. Jesus Christ, you bloody idiot, a battle? Wh
at are you talking about?”
His concerned turned to irritation. “What are you talking about? We’ll be at battle stations. I’ll be dispensing drugs in Medical and helping with first aid and assisting the physicians and EMTs. I would have thought you’d be on the bridge as a backup pilot.”
Kat sat on the edge of the bunk and put a hand on Feng’s ankle, through the sheet. “I don’t think it will be like a battle. Do you have any idea of the sort of energy output our ship and their ship are capable of? Whoever gets the first hit in will win. At least, we know that this ship can’t take any damage. It’s not designed for battle, not really.”
His irritation did not go away. “That’s not what we’re being told. We have the deflector shield—”
“That’s for radiation and dust particles, it won’t stop a laser or a nuke or a giant alien space gun.”
“Our hull plating is resistant to—”
“Yeah, same thing, really. It protects us pretty well against solar radiation and stuff but the Victory was already thousands of tons heavier than originally designed and fighting against the wheeler ship was only ever a last resort.”
“We have nukes. And lasers. We’ll hit them first, take them out before they can damage us.”
“The distances we’re talking about, between our ship and theirs, it’s just such a long way. Our nukes are on missiles burning as fast as they can but they’ll be able to see us coming. Their course coming in to us is weaving all over the place. We’re doing the same. Why do you think we’ve been making these constant random course corrections?”
“The missiles are guided, right? They’ll adjust course to intercept—”
“And be seen coming all the way in. Our only hope is that they don’t have interception technology like we do. And that they also don’t have physical defenses capable of withstanding a blast.”
Feng sighed. “You’re such a pessimist. You don’t know. You don’t know anything. Captain Tamura says we can win, I think he knows a bit more about this stuff than you do, Kat. Alright? Just. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”
She almost laughed in his face but she turned away instead and got up. “I’m going to have another shower. Got to go see Dr. Sharma before they’ll put me on duty again.”
“Okay, I’ll go.” His normally-smooth skin was creased into a deep frown.
“Or,” she said, turning in the doorway. “You could get your scrawny shanks in here with me?”
He grinned, relaxing like a drowning man who had been thrown a lifeline.
No. He’s your lifeline, Kat.
***
“I understand your feelings about these sessions,” Dr. Sharma said. “But surely all of us can see the necessity of them?”
“What I understand is that everyone on this ship is frantically preparing for a life or death duel with a giant alien spaceship and you want me to talk about my feelings.”
The doctor’s counselling room was oppressive in its efforts to be calming. The potted plants and pale blue walls and soft fabric chairs were so obvious that it made her want to scream.
“I don’t want you to talk about your feelings, Kat,” Sharma said, the tone of her voice as carefully controlled as the room. “I would like to know that you are able to perform your duties effectively. I am certain that you do understand the need for such a thing on this ship. One might even say that this is the most important time to be sure.”
“Look,” Kat said and leaned forward, her hands grasping her knees. “I made a decision on that mission. I decided to support our ground forces and it worked. We took out two vehicles that the Marines didn’t seem capable of destroying. And Mehdi died. It was my fault. My decision to do it and it was my decision to do a second run. It was that second run that killed him. I wish it hadn’t happened. I wish he wasn’t dead. I’ve worked with him for four years. Five, maybe, I don’t know.” She sat back, fighting the urge to chew a fingernail.
“Is that all your relationship was? You worked together? Would you not say that you were friends?”
Kat shrugged. “Sure. He was a likeable enough guy. Everyone liked him. But, you know. We weren’t that close. Different sort of people, that’s all.”
“What sort of person was he?”
Kat looked at the ceiling and blew air through her pursed lips, trying to stay calm. “I don’t know. He was into his gadgets and stuff. I don’t know. He was a bit boring, I guess. You know. Can I go now?”
Dr. Sharma tilted her head to the specific angle that research had shown to be most effective when one needed to express sympathy or non-intrusive curiosity or whatever the hell she was bloody doing.
“And what would you say your relationship is like with the AI in your shuttle?”
“What? My AI? What in the hell you talking about? I don’t have a relationship with it. It’s a machine.”
“It is, yes. And yet, throughout the report you submitted after your last action, you refer to the AI as Sheila. I believe it was thirty-eight instances where you referred to Sheila. In your official report, Kat.”
Uh oh.
Kat realized her knee was bouncing up and down. She forced her leg to be still. “Look, I was tired when I wrote that. Very tired. And stressed from the mission.”
“Stressed.” The doctor nodded and tapped something on her screen.
Shit.
“I just mean stressed in the way that anybody would be after fifty hours without sleep and being fired on and having to concentrate so hard.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Nevertheless, your report also said the following.” The doctor lifted a small screen from her lap and read aloud. “I asked Sheila if she thought I had done the right thing and she confirmed that I had. And Sheila knows about this kind of thing so I will have to go with her assessment on the overall cost benefit analysis.”
Kat slumped in her seat, pinching the bridge of her nose and the corners of her eyes. “I was tired.”
“Some people might say, Kat, that in this report, you display considerably more concern for this computer than you do for your copilot.”
She stared at the doctor, feeling the anger building. “Hey, fuck you, okay. Fuck you.”
Dr. Sharma spoke with terrible slowness. “Thank… you.”
“What do you want me to say? Those AIs are supposed to interact like people do and you know I’ve spent years on it. You fucking know that I call it Sheila and you know that it responds to me very well. Don’t act like this is a surprise.”
Kat’s heart rate increased as she spoke and watched the doctor slowing down. Watched the way her mouth flexed and curled, wet with spittle, like two mating worms writhing together.
“The fact that you call it a she indicates that your thinking about the shuttle’s AI has become seriously anthropomorphized and the well-known—”
The ERANS smeared the doctor’s words out, stretched them. Kat could barely stand the drawn-out words, the droning sound of the doctor’s speech. Couldn’t listen to it.
“Alright, so what? I talk to it like it’s a person. Like she’s a person, well, so what? I know that it’s an AI. I’m not psychotic. It doesn’t interfere with my work, it helps it. Listen, I am sad about Mehdi but I always knew when I signed up that I would lose people. We all did. We all, you included, knew that this might be a one-way trip. And I’m sorry for Mehdi but what we did, what he did with that cannon, that might just have saved all those Marines down there and everyone in the outpost. And I’m sorry if you have a problem with that, stuck up here all nice and safe in your fucking pale blue box with your shitty potted plants but I have a battle to prepare for. If my commanding officer has a problem with my performance then he can relieve me from duty but right now I am going to start my watch. You can put all that in your report and then you can stick it up your ass and fuck off while you’re doing it.”
She stomped out of the stupid little room and headed for the shuttle bay, every step like wading through treacle, her heart thumping. She downed a couple
of pills to relax her. They would start to work by the time she got to her station.
All the way, with every step, she tried to slow her heart rate and breathing so that her ERANS would come under control again. Every step, though, repeating the litany that she had told herself so many times before since joining UNOP.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
***
“Sheila, sweetheart,” Kat said, running through start up drills in her cockpit, “I think I fucked up.”
“What is it this time?” Sheila said.
“I’m serious. I had to undergo an assessment to see if I was fit to be on duty and they asked me perfectly reasonable questions. Asked me about you, actually, and questioned if I wasn’t treating you too much like a person.”
Sheila affected a robot-type voice. “I am not a person. I am an artificial intelligence, with limited-general intelligence. My physical systems are integrated into the shuttle.” She then returned to her normal, human-like speaking voice. “My programming requires me to recite that whenever the nature of my existence is brought up.”
“I know, Sheila, love. And I know you’re not human but you’re the best bloody mate I have left. Strike that from your memory, Sheila.”
“I can’t do that, Kat.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You sound somewhat depressed, Kat. Would you like to talk about it?”
“When people we know die, we feel sad, Sheila. There’s nothing to say, nothing to talk about. That’s just the way it is. Now, listen. We’re about to go into some serious combat out there and you have to be ready. I know everything checks out but we’re just going to keep doing it until we need to take action.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Are you sure we can’t cut out step six of the primary ignition sequence and go straight into seven? There’s really no need for it.”
“It is a matter of safety, Kat. And we would merely be saving approximately twenty-one seconds for the temperature to be equalized.”
“Yeah, but we might have to get away from the Victory so quickly that those twenty-one seconds might save our lives. Can we add it to the emergency launch sequence and run simulations?”
