by C H Gideon
“Brrr,” Geroux shivered. “I know it’s the normal temperature in here, but it feels like ten below after that warm beach.”
“It’s our imagination,” Jiya said. She rubbed the back of her head, where a minor headache lingered. “Stats say temps are normal.”
“I know,” Geroux replied. “Shall I check on the bridge crew?”
Reynolds nodded. “I’ll show you their physical location. Then you can install a wireless connection, right?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” she said, following him to the main computer banks.
Within hours, the Reynolds was humming at normal capacity, the entirety of the shore party recovered and already missing the sunshine. Geroux’s wireless transmitter allowed the AI personalities to speak to the bridge crew.
“It’s limited bandwidth, at least compared to what they’re used to,” Geroux said. “They’ll have to take turns.”
“That could be interesting,” Jiya chuckled. “Some of them play well with others, and some not so much.”
“I resemble that remark,” Tactical said.
Ria sighed. “I can’t believe I missed you.”
“I’m irresistible,” Tactical replied.
“With the limited connection, you’ll have to do a lot more of the routine actions yourself,” Geroux cautioned the young ensign. She turned to Asya. “If we’re going to Gate twenty-four/seven, we’ll need a lot more trained bridge crew.”
“I’m already working on it,” Asya replied. “I’ve got folks running simulations, and they’ll be shadowing the first shift starting tomorrow. For now, we’ll have to get by.”
“Coordinates calculated for the first twenty jumps,” Ria said, removing her hands from her console with a flourish. “I’ll have to recalibrate after each Gate, but having them pre-set should save time and prevent errors later when we’re tired.”
“Excellent,” Reynolds said, jerking out of his contemplative state. “Let’s begin. Sound Battlestations.”
At the head of the table, Reynolds drummed his fingers on the shining surface. He looked at his core crew, who were gathered in the conference room for a staff meeting. “Let’s hear it,” he said.
“Hear what?” Maddox countered.
“You’ve all been avoiding eye contact for days,” he said. “Spill.”
They looked at Takal, and he ducked his head. “Fine. We have a problem. We were trying to develop a work-around, but…there’s nothing. We need to get to High Tortuga.”
“I’ve been saying that since we wiped out Phraim-‘Eh,” Reynolds said, his eyes narrowing. “What’s changed?”
“The chips,” Geroux said. “The new memory chips we’ve been printing. They aren’t as good as the originals. They work fine in a regular computer or a Pod-doc or any other technology we use. But your memory cells are much more advanced. Orders of magnitude. We can’t replicate them here.”
“But you’ve been using them,” Reynolds said. “Comm, Navigation, the others—they’ve been fine. They’re getting tired of the cramped quarters, but they’re fine.”
“That’s because we’ve been cheating,” Jiya said. “When Takal realized we couldn’t replicate your memory cells, we started pulling undamaged circuits from other places and replacing them with our new lower-tech chips. We used the more advanced chips for your personalities.”
“And we’ve run out of advanced chips,” Takal said. “That means XO and Tactical and all the rest are stuck where they are until we get back to High Tortuga.”
“So, we keep jumping,” Reynolds said. “I’m still not seeing the problem. We’ll get home in a year, and they’ll get their new chips.”
“It’s not that easy,” Geroux said. “Your alternate personalities are computer constructs. Every time we interact with them, they rewrite pieces on the memory chips; that’s how computers work. And with those interactions, we add a little bit to their memory. We’re filling the tank, and at some point, it’s going to overflow. But there’s nowhere to overflow into, so anything that overflows will be lost. Since your advanced memory cells use chaos theory to assign memory locations, there’s no way to know what will be lost. It’s a ticking time bomb. Someday, Navigation won’t remember where High Tortuga is, or XO won’t know how to call for Battlestations. Or Tactical will forget how to swear. They could lose essential pieces of who they are, and there’s no way to retrieve what was lost.”
“How long?” Reynolds asked.
They all shook their heads. “We don’t know,” Takal said. “Every interaction is a potential threat, but we can’t leave them alone. A year alone?” He shook his head sadly.
“They have each other,” Reynolds said. “We’ll leave them alone if we have to. We’ve done it before.
“They had you before,” Maddox said. “You’re the glue that holds those guys together.”
“Besides, leaving them alone won’t help if they’re interacting with each other,” Geroux said. “They’d still be adding to the memory use.”
Reynolds paused. He knew now that not having his entertaining, frustrating, annoying, ingenious alternate identities would make him less than whole. And any of them being less than whole would wound them all. “This sounds like a no-win scenario. Tell me you can pull off a Kobayashi Maru.”
“Takal has an idea for getting us home faster,” Jiya said.
“Why didn’t you say so?” Reynolds demanded, swinging his chair around to look at the scientist.
“It’s risky,” he said.
“Life is risky,” Reynolds said. “What’s the plan?”
“When I asked for a Kobayashi Maru, I didn’t think you were going to base your plan on an episode of Star Trek,” Reynolds said. “Slingshotting around a pulsar? Are you delusional?”
“I am not letting Jiya present scientific information anymore,” Takal said, shaking his head. “She got almost everything wrong. We wouldn’t be slingshotting around the pulsar, we’d be waiting nearby for a gamma-ray burst.”
“Still, you’re suggesting we purposely expose the ship to gamma rays and who knows what other dangers on the chance it will multiply the Gate drive.” Reynolds grimaced. “You’re all crazy.”
“I said it was risky,” Takal said. He threw a visual onto the room’s main screen. “But it isn’t crazy. We’ve been observing this pulsar for the last two days. We’ve analyzed the data and know exactly what dangers we’d be exposed to. The signature of this star is almost identical to the radiation blast we encountered when we left Dorayas.”
A spot flashed near the star projected on the screen. “We’ll Gate to this point, which is outside the radiation zone. We wait until conditions are optimal; based on the light curves we’ve been tracking, we might have to wait a couple days for a gamma-ray burst. Then we Gate into the path of the burst.” Another spot pulsed. “We pause for three-point-two seconds, then Gate again, with the Devon system as our target. The extra polybdinum we infused into the Gate drive will be activated by the gamma radiation, and we’ll get home.”
Reynolds' drummed the table. Then he held up a finger. “What’s the risk to our crew?
“From the jump?” Takal asked. “When we left Dorayas, we jumped a billion light-years. None of the crew experienced any negative effects. It’s possible there was a protective element to the radiation we took at Dorayas, but it wasn’t measurable. We’ve analyzed that data until we burned holes in the chips.” He glanced at Reynolds. “Sorry.”
The android waved his apology away.
“Since then,” Takal continued, “Doc has been—had been monitoring crew biometrics on each jump. There’s nothing to indicate the Gate has any negative impact on biological life forms, even at vast distances.”
“What about the three-point-two seconds we’re in the path of the burst?” Reynolds asked.
“Our shielding is built to withstand that,” Takal said. “We have to wait that long to activate the polybdinum.”
Reynolds raised a second finger. “Three-point-two seconds? Is that long
enough to open a new Gate?”
Geroux took over. “We can pre-program the coordinates into the system. Because the waiting location is close, relatively speaking, to the final Gate position, we can make the jump without recalibrating. There will be a slightly larger margin of error, but even so, it will put us within striking distance of Devon.” She shrugged. “We might have to make one more jump.”
The captain’s third finger went up. “Worst-case scenario?”
“Even if we jump one hundred eighty degrees in the wrong direction,” Jiya said. “We’re not much worse off than we are now. We’d be two years from home instead of one, but if XO and the rest aren’t going to make it for one year, what difference does one more make? Sorry, that came out really crass.” She ducked her head.
“We won’t go in the wrong direction.” Takal jumped in before Reynolds could respond. A narrow, shaded angle appeared on the screen, with the point located in the supernova. “When we came here, we went the right direction, we just over-shot by a billion light-years. We could end up several hundred thousand light-years off course—anywhere within this angle, in fact—but then we jump to Devon ten thousand at a time. We’ll still get there much faster.”
“We can sit here for hours, debating the possible dangers,” Ka’nak said. “But if there’s one thing we should have learned on this trip, it’s that dangers exist everywhere. Furry vipers and death lace on a supposedly empty planet. Political machinations by primitive tribal leaders. Pirates backed by militant governments. Hell, Jiya fell out of a fucking tree.”
Jiya shook her head and smiled before her expression turned serious.
“We can take the safe route and possibly lose some of our family,” Jiya added, tipping her chin to the Melowi warrior. “Or we can take a risk and save everyone. If we fail, then maybe we all go out in a glorious supernova. I think it’s an easy decision. I personally don’t want to stay in this galaxy one second longer than I have to.”
Reynolds took a deep breath, his drumming fingers finally stilling. “Prepare to Gate.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Target?” Ria asked, suspecting she knew the answer.
“Blaze of glory,” Reynolds replied.
That wasn’t what the ensign expected. She cocked her head in confusion.
Takal stepped up. “High Tortuga. Deliver us to the Devon system in the Interdiction. One jump. Either we make it, or we go out in a blaze of glory.”
One billion light-years. Unknown radiation exposure. Three-hundred-thousand-light-year margin of error. What the hell are you thinking? XO asked.
I’m saving your ass, so stop your whining and save your memory. Back in your box, XO. I’ve got it from here, Reynolds said. “Ensign, are the coordinates locked in?”
“Yes, sir,” Ria said.
Reynolds opened the ship-wide broadcast. “Crew of the superdreadnought, this is your captain speaking. We’re about to do something historic, but everything this ship has done in these galaxies has been historic. Besides everything we’ve accomplished, the most important has been that you have become my friends and family. You are joining me as we try to go back home, a billion light-years in one jump. All the time we’ve spent in this system has been to that single end. Thank goodness we didn’t lose any of our crew during our trials. There is a great deal of danger out here, but you didn’t blink. You went in with your eyes wide open. Maybe that was from shock; I’m not sure.”
The captain waited for the snickers from the bridge crew to die down before he continued.
“I want to thank you for all you’ve done. Now it’s time to go home. You will be welcomed by humanity, and most importantly,” Reynolds paused for a significant amount of time, “you’ll be amazed at how real coffee tastes compared to that motor oil you’ve been drinking. We are going to execute a double Gate—a short jump into the path of a gamma-ray burst, followed immediately by opening a new Gate that will take us a billion light-years, straight to High Tortuga. Battlestations! As soon as the board shows green, we’re going home.”
Reynolds stood with his hands behind his back and legs spread shoulder-width apart, like a captain of old manning the wooden deck of his sailing ships. He didn’t bother to watch the crew doing their jobs: securing bulkheads, cycling systems, confirming ship status, and more. He was focused on the way ahead, through a physical Gate formed by an engine he operated within his previous body, the superdreadnought.
Now it was run by a meatbag standing in for the engineer, who was one of his alter egos. An individual in his own right, deserving of his own place as a member of the Reynolds’ crew.
“All boards green. Ready to Gate,” Asya reported.
“I have to note that he left out the blaze-of-glory part,” Ka’nak whispered. Jiya slugged him in the arm.
“The three-point-two second delay is programmed. Gate is open,” Ria reported.
“The gamma-ray burst is growing,” Geroux stated. “Direction and speed are within parameters.”
“Initiate sequence in three…” Takal counted down, “two…now!”
The Reynolds sailed through the Gate, instantly reappearing in the path of the burst. For three-point-two seconds, gamma rays bathed the polybdinum, charging the Gate drive to unparalleled power. Responding to programming, the new Gate opened, and the superdreadnought slid over the event horizon and through. Collectively, the crew held their breath, waiting to realize a million different outcomes, whatever their fertile minds could conceive.
The screens cleared with uncharacteristic snaps and pops. Reynolds winced at the noise. Geroux and Takal stood with their mouths open for just a moment, then they frantically started tapping buttons on their consoles.
“Ensign, where are we?” Reynolds demanded.
“Sir, I have no data,” Ria replied, fear in her voice. “Navigation databanks are not finding a match for these stars.”
“We’re being hailed!” Jiya reported before transferring it to the main screen.
“Superdreadnought Reynolds!” A woman’s image appeared. Behind her was a banner with the words High Tortuga Flight Control. “We are both pleased and surprised by your appearance, and you’ve brought company. Please hold your position and power down your weapons while we confirm your identity. When you left years ago, you were just a ship. Now it appears that you are a ship with a crew. May I ask who I’m speaking with?”
Reynolds smiled and spread his arms wide to take in the bridge crew. He looked from face to face before answering the woman on the screen. “I am Captain Reynolds in an advanced android body. My personality has been mostly split from the superdreadnought, ‘split’ being the operable term. There are eight of me, including seven within the ship’s limited memory systems that have been infested by an aggressive fungus. We destroyed it by using extreme cold, but the systems holding the other variants of Reynolds are degrading, and we need help.”
The woman whispered something off-screen. “Please remain where you are and do not attempt to send a Pod to the surface. We cannot risk an alien infestation.”
“I concur, Flight Control. We can use the Gulg transportation system to bring the technology aboard for us to repair ourselves. My crew, who are mostly from Lariest, is one of the most capable in the universe. They will ensure that the ship and the variants of the AI you knew as Reynolds are free of danger before we interact in any way.”
“Stand by,” the woman said evenly before cutting the transmission.
“Not quite the warm group hug I was hoping for,” Jiya said, moving to stand at Reynolds’ side.
“Protocol, First Officer Jiya,” Reynolds replied, his tone friendly. “I wouldn’t let an alien-infested ship back in here, and I won’t be responsible for infecting any other ships in the fleet.”
Indicator lights on bridge consoles flashed and flickered as system tests confirmed functionality.
“We are no longer contagious,” Geroux offered, “if I’m to continue your analogy. Is there any way I can talk to their techn
icians? I’ve heard data doesn’t lie.”
“Only those who interpret it.” Reynolds tapped his nose with a finger. “We shall wait for them. We have returned to my home. Despite the suggestion by someone who won’t be named who is wearing the title of XO that there was a three-hundred thousand light-year margin of error, you, Ensign Ria, Geroux, Takal, and the rest of the crew delivered us inside the eye of a needle at a billion light-years. Even with my processing capability, the odds were staggering, and I had little hope.”
“Now you tell us!” Ka’nak blurted. He stood to join the others.
“This is what we do now?” Jiya asked, gesturing toward the group.
Asya shouldered her way into the group. “You mean, stand around the bridge and wait for someone in charge to make a decision? Let me see, where have I seen that before? That’s right, every military ship I’ve ever served on. Every damn one.”
“Even ones you were in charge of?” Ka’nak needled.
She laughed and shrugged. “Even my own. There’s an unspoken tradition, it seems. I was powerless to change it.”
Ka’nak clapped Reynolds on the back. “We made it. No supernova for us, or not yet, anyway. Do they have good chow and good drinks on this side of the void?”
Reynolds tipped his head to look down his nose. “The humans invented the word ‘cuisine’ and take their dining seriously. I think you’ll be right at home here. Strong drink? They built empires based solely on beer and whiskey.”
“My research into human culture based on videos from Reynolds’ archives supports this,” Jiya noted. Ka’nak grinned and clapped his hands, then rubbed them vigorously.
“When can we go ashore?”
The group glared at him as they stood, waiting. They turned to the screen as if that would expedite the process.
On cue, the main screen came to life. An angry man looked at them. Reynolds stepped forward. “I’ll be damned if it isn’t John Grimes! You’re looking well.” The captain said the rest to his crew, “Let me introduce one of the Queen’s Bitches, a confidant and protector of the Queen. There is no fiercer warrior in the galaxy, outside of the Queen’s husband and the Queen, of course.”
