by C H Gideon
At that point, the AI waved everyone away to their duty.
Chapter Eleven
Right around the assigned time, Jiya and Geroux dragged themselves to the crew lounge. Although the work they’d done was hardly physically taxing, it was mentally draining.
Reynolds had put them through their paces, showing and re-showing them each and every aspect of the superdreadnought. There was so much to the ship Jiya didn’t know. She’d never seen a spaceship like this one, and she realized early on why the AI had been tasked with running it. It would take a crew of thousands to manage what the AI did.
There was no way she and the rest of the crew could ever replace the AI, as she’d pictured her task. Now she knew her job was simply to assist Reynolds in doing what he couldn’t do alone, which wasn’t a whole lot.
Much as the different versions of the Reynolds AI drove her nuts, she was beginning to see why he’d splintered into so many personalities. Far too human for his own good—which was what he’d called his people back home—Jiya realized he needed more than just a crew to help repair him and keep him running. He needed companionship.
Which, weird as it sounded, made a whole lot of sense now that she’d seen him in action—and seen General Adrial Maddox and the damage that had been done to him without interaction.
He wasn’t just an artificial intelligence; he had become something more along the way. His time around incredibly strong personalities had rubbed off on him. While never able to become these Federation heroes he admired, he did his best to rise to their level; to get as close as he could manage.
Then when he’d been sent into exile, which was the only way Jiya could imagine it, he was alone again, bereft of his family, as he saw them—these powerful people he’d come to rely on, as they had him.
Or maybe she was tired and projecting.
Ka’nak and Takal were already there when the two women arrived, and they waved Geroux and Jiya over to sit with them. They gratefully accepted the invitation.
Takal looked worn out to Jiya, the bags under his dark eyes making them look like deep craters on a moon. He lifted a small flask to his lips and drank deep, the contents of which likely weren’t doing anything to improve his appearance. Ka’nak, however, looked as fresh as he had when he’d faced down the monstrosity in the pit.
“Are you tired, Uncle?” Geroux asked, apparently seeing the same thing Jiya had.
“A bit,” he answered, nodding, “but I’d be far worse if Ka’nak hadn’t been helping me all day. He’s made my work much easier. Thank you, friend.”
Ka’nak nodded. “Know what else would make our work easier?”
“What’s that?” Geroux asked.
“Dinner,” the Melowi warrior answered, leaning back in his seat. His stomach rumbled on cue, and he grimaced. “Who’s a guy got to kill to get a meal around this place?”
“That would be Helm, actually,” Tactical said through the comms in their heads. “Though, I suspect he might be a bit gamey if you tried to eat him afterward.”
Jiya grimaced, realizing she would never be free of the AI’s multiple inner monologues now that she had the device in her head.
“I’ll eat about anything at this point,” the warrior complained.
Even Geroux seemed to agree. “Yeah, I’m getting pretty hungry. It’s been a long day.” She glanced around the lounge. “We learned a whole bunch about the ship, but I didn’t see anything like a mess hall or kitchen. How do we get food here?”
The Reynolds `droid walked in right then, a weird grimace plastered across his mechanical features as he heard them talking. “Food?”
“Yeah, you know, the stuff us meatbags eat so we can live?” Jiya explained.
“Damn it!” Reynolds grumbled. “I knew I forgot something.”
“What?” Ka’nak shouted, leaping to his feet and knocking his chair to the floor. “There’s no food on this tub?”
Reynolds shrugged. “What did I need it for? There’s only me, myself, and I, and I, and I, and I aboard. None of us eat.”
“Well, looks like none of us are going to eat either,” Jiya grumped. “We need to be better prepared than this. Had I known there wasn’t any food aboard, we could have bought supplies when I first joined you—before we started chasing down a crew. That should have been the priority.”
Reynolds explained, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a crew on board, and they brought their own food when they were here.”
Ka’nak growled and looked ready to leap across the table at the AI. Even Geroux and Takal looked pissed, both raising their voices to complain. Jiya rubbed her temples and willed the headache sneaking up on her to go away.
“Okay, people, calm down,” she hissed. “We’ll get this fixed, isn’t that right, Reynolds?”
“If you say so,” he replied, triggering more of an outburst from the rest of the crew. “I’m kidding, sheesh.” He raised his hands in surrender. “There have to be some protein bars stashed around here somewhere. Those will have to do for now, and there’s that Coke we brought for trading. The sugar might take the edge off.”
The crew groaned and started in again, Jiya shouting to rein them in a second later. She let them get a little of the steam out first.
“Then…” she said, dragging out the word until everyone went silent, “after our protein bars and our meeting, we’ll organize a supply run and pop down to the surface with the shuttle and get what we need.” Jiya pointed at each crewmember in turn. “While we’re waiting on our meal, think of reasonable items you might need outside of food, and I’ll get with Reynolds to see what we can pick up.”
Reynolds came over and plopped down in one of the empty chairs. “Comm, get the bots to do a search of the ship, starting with the kitchen, then mess hall, and sweep through the private quarters and see if anyone left behind any still-edible food for the crew.”
“I’m almost afraid to go pillaging those rooms,” Comm replied. “Who knows what kind of weird human items I might stumble across?”
“Wear gloves,” Reynolds suggested.
“Excellent idea,” Comm said. “I’ll let you know what potentially embarrassing things I find. Oh, and the food, of course.”
“Soon, right?” Ka’nak asked, putting a salty emphasis on the “soon” part.
An animated thumbs-up appeared on the viewscreen above the table. It wiggled and danced before disappearing in a cluster of sparkles.
“I’ll take that as a yes?” Ka’nak mumbled.
“Had it been a no, it would have been a different finger,” Jiya clarified. “And probably fewer sparkles.”
“Okay,” Reynolds said, rapping the table to get their attention, “the main reason I called you here—”
“Besides not to feed us?” Ka’nak complained.
“Yes, besides that,” the AI responded. “We need to establish a chain of authority aboard the ship.”
“Aboard you?” Takal asked.
“Yes, me. The ship.”
“I’m thinking it’s pretty clear you’re in charge when you’re the ship,” Takal continued. “I mean, there’s really no way to mutiny and take control from you. That puts you in charge. You could simply kill the atmospherics and vent us to space If we give you grief, right?”
Reynolds sighed. “My point here is not that I’m in charge of—”
“You’re not?” Ka’nak asked. “Now I’m confused. Who did he say was in charge, Takal?”
“I’m in charge,” Reynolds asserted.
“Then why are we having this conversation if it’s already decided?” Ka’nak shook his head. “And by the way, who decided that in the first place? Shouldn’t we vote on something as important as who’s the boss?”
“It’s okay.” Jiya bit back a chuckle and put a hand on Ka’nak’s arm. “What Reynolds is trying to nail down is our positions with regards to each other. He is the ship, and he is in charge overall, but what about the rest of us? We need some sort of pecking order to keep thing
s in line. Someone everyone can report to without bothering Reynolds.”
“So we know who to blame when we don’t get fed?” Ka’nak clarified.
“Exactly,” Jiya replied.
“I blame Reynolds, then,” the Melowi stated.
Jiya and the AI sighed in unison.
“What? Is that not what you just said, that you want someone to blame?” Ka’nak asked.
“You want to handle that one?” Reynolds asked, his metallic eyes rolling so far back that Jiya thought he’d lose them inside his skull.
“Okay, let’s just move on, please.” Jiya leaned back in her seat and groaned.
“I vote that Jiya be in charge,” Geroux said, then glanced at Reynolds. “I mean, not of the ship since that’s your thing, but of us. She’s always been level-headed and smart, and could handle herself. I’d be willing to listen to her.”
“I second the motion,” Takal said, raising his hand.
“I’ll third and fourth the motion if it means she’s going to find me food sometime tonight.” Ka’nak raised both his hands in the air to emphasize his vote. “All this voting is making me hungrier.”
Jiya felt her cheeks warm at the unexpected support. “I don’t—”
“Then it’s settled,” the AI decided, cutting off her attempt at declining. “From here on out, you are First Officer Jiya Lemaire. Congratulations.”
“Uh, thanks,” she mumbled.
“Now, you need to pick a second. Who you got?” Reynolds wondered, glancing around the table at the crew. “You want straws to make it easier?”
Jiya sighed. Nothing like being put on the spot. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”
She looked at each of the remaining crew in turn, but she already knew who she’d pick. Not because he was necessarily a better person than the others, but because he was the wisest, most capable of the crew when it came to an actual command position.
She held her breath for a moment, letting it go stale in her lungs before finally licking her lips and calling out her choice. “If he’s a hundred percent after his time in the Pod-doc, I choose Maddox.”
“Whew!” Takal called, slumping in his chair in relief. “Thank God. I thought you might choose me there for a second.”
Jiya and Geroux chuckled, and Takal’s niece patted him on the back, grinning. “I thought so too,” she told him. “I’m too young for a command position, I feel, and Muscles there is too… Well, yeah, I figured it was going to be you.”
Ka’nak grunted and pointed to his stomach.
Reynolds grinned. “Excellent decision, First Officer Lemaire.” He got up from the table and motioned toward the door. “Now that all that is resolved, first order of business is for you to get your crew ready to go planetside again and collect supplies. Chop-chop.”
He strode from the room.
Jiya clambered to her feet and stretched, feeling the bones in her back crackle and pop from being hunched over a console all day. “You heard the man…uh, android. Let’s get moving.”
“I heard that,” the AI’s voice broadcast over the comm, reminding her that they were always connected.
The crew chuckled and made their way to the shuttle.
Jiya hoped the AI would foot the bill for some kind of booze after the snafu with dinner.
She could use a drink right now. And judging by Takal’s sweaty paleness, so could he. Another one, at least.
She’d have to rectify that posthaste. She wondered if the Pod-doc could deal with something like alcohol dependency. She made a mental note to ask Reynolds when she was alone.
Chapter Twelve
“Why isn’t that Jonny taxi coming with us?” Ka’nak wondered.
“I suspect this is a test. See how we manage what should be a simple task,” Jiya replied.
“It’s like running to the grocery store,” Geroux said. “The big difference is that we have money, if Reynolds is to be believed and this chip is filled.”
“How would Reynolds have our money if he just got here? Again, if he is to be believed?” Takal wondered.
“We all had a glimpse of the ship and a small taste of what it can do. Do you doubt that he can take whatever he needs?” Jiya challenged. “I hope he can help General Maddox.”
“The AI known as Reynolds seems to be disconnected from people. He understands a great deal about how the universe works but is still confused by simple Larian traits and how to interact with us.”
The shuttle continued toward the planet. They’d selected a parking area behind a major grocery store. With only four of them, they figured they could do it the easy way and not try to buy commercial quantities.
Geroux leaned forward against her restraints. “Is he an adolescent genius, or is he just off?”
“Geroux! We’re scientists. Don’t create a premise where it has to be one or the other. Life isn’t binary.”
“But it is. Either you are alive, or you’re dead!” she declared victoriously, but nodded slowly. “Yes. I think we have to accept the premise that he will not harm us, but the opposite. He’ll do everything he can to protect us.”
“Talking about alive or dead,” Jiya interrupted the scientists before they descended into their study of the AI to address Ka’nak, “you don’t get to rip out any throats with your teeth, at least not while I’m watching!”
“I concede that was gross, but for the show, it was expected to raise positive ratings by four-point-three percent.”
“Did it?” Jiya asked.
“Numbers were good, holding steady at four-point-nine, until my walk around the ring. Then they dropped to three-point-six. Reviewers suggested wiping my mouth clean on the shirt of my opponent would have boosted it over five. Live and learn.”
“You follow the numbers like that?” Takal fixed Ka’nak with the gaze of a rapt student.
“Of course. It’s business, not barbarism.”
“It was barbaric,” Geroux added.
“Maybe a little. Would it help if I told you that I don’t enjoy that part?”
“You don’t like it? Then why do you do it?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I asked if it would help if I told you that.”
Geroux wore the expression of a stunned mullet as she tried to parse Ka’nak’s words into something comprehensible.
Jiya waved her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Landing soon, people. We need to do this incognito. Go in, get your groceries for a week or two, and get out.”
The shuttle settled into an area behind the Larian grocery store. Many products were provided through the government and were rationed, but the rest were available for purchase in any quantity.
They walked off the shuttle and strolled around the building. “Don’t forget where we parked,” Jiya quipped. Ka’nak took two carts, and Jiya threw a glance his way.
“What? You said one week or two. That’s a pretty stark difference, so I’m planning for two. I need fuel for this furnace!” he declared, striking a pose.
“Incognito!” Takal laughed and pushed a cart inside, with Geroux close behind him.
Jiya chuckled at her new security chief and general maintenance technician. “You stay behind me, because I don’t want to see cleaned-out shelves while I shop.”
“Unless you’re going straight to the butcher, you won’t be behind me,” Ka’nak remarked, pushing his way past Jiya, winking as he went.
Jiya watched the three disappear into the aisles. “What have I gotten myself into?” she mumbled, smiling at how ridiculous it was. An AI implanted in a Jonny taxi android. A ship with the firepower to destroy planets. A small group of friends to keep the ship sane while it searched for mythical creatures. It will be interesting.
She started to select the cheapest brand, then stopped herself. She needed things that had a long shelf life, and cost was no object. She passed Geroux and Takal, glancing into their carts to find that they’d reached the same conclusion. Geroux appeared to have gained a taste for the planet’s finest cho
colates.
Jiya shrugged and didn’t think twice at selecting a couple of boxes of designer crackers and tossing them into her cart.
A commotion in the back of the store drew her attention. She hurried down the aisle to find Ka’nak in the custom meat section taking pictures with the butchers. “This is where I shop for the best meat on Lariest!” he declared for one of the butcher’s vid cameras. Two thumbs up.” He pointed to his cart, which was filled to capacity with the best cuts. His second cart was filled with fresh vegetables and fruits.
“How in the hell...” she stammered as she tried to get his attention.
“Gotta go, guys, the boss is calling me. Thanks for everything. Make sure you bet on me next time I’m in the ring. With man-fuel like this, I will dominate!” Ka’nak waved to his fans and made a beeline for Jiya. She froze as he wrapped an arm around her and bowed so both their heads could be in the many pictures being snapped.
“Ka’nak has a lover!” someone declared.
Jiya blinked rapidly, unable to speak. Ka’nak smiled and pushed his two carts past her. She followed quickly, leaving her cart at the end to block the aisle.
“This is your idea of incognito?” she demanded.
“Have you seen what I look like? I don’t do incognito. I thought you were joking, because—let me restate this—I can’t do incognito.”
“Fine,” she said and stormed away, haphazardly dumping items from the shelves into her cart, not bothering to slow down and arrange anything.
“You don’t mean fine,” Ka’nak said softly before adding in his deepest voice, “Meet you at the ship, Number One.”
My crew, she thought. Jiya suddenly had an overwhelming desire for chocolate. She retraced her steps, found that the good stuff had been cleaned out, and settled for second best, catching herself because the day before she couldn’t have afforded any chocolate. Jiya smiled, thinking that she’d never have to go back to her apartment. That was the low point of her manufactured decline.
