After becoming acclimated to the gravity, I amused myself by poking around the ship. The engineering module proved interesting, although Tex tended to follow me around like a nervous mother hen. As expected, Cozi wasted no time making himself at home there, and in short order, both engineers were treating me as an interloper into their hallowed domain. One evening, after mentioning how I hadn’t seen him for a while, Cozi said I shouldn’t worry. It wasn’t that he or Tex didn’t like me; I just didn’t speak the language. Engineering, that is, not Chinese.
There wasn’t much else to see on the ship. I worked out in the gymnasium a lot, but soon, that too became tedious. Going over the ship specs, I saw that the Bridge, Habitat and Engineering modules were all heavily shielded against radiation, which there’s an awful lot of in space, none of which is good for either humans or electronics. Even with the shielding, spacers take a lot of rads, and the DNA damage was cumulative over time. As a result, most spacers couldn’t have children, unless they’d had the foresight to have either their sperm or eggs cryo-frozen. Spacers weren’t known for being ‘settle down, raise a family’ types anyway.
I explored the cargo bays a bit, but one stack of crates looks pretty much like any other. Kyra had brought our spacesuits and even our crate of Jovian Bliss aboard, the former being very comforting. If we needed them, they’d be there, which beat the alternative, which was breathing vacuum. Mike seemed to appreciate the company, and we even started hanging around together in the galley, playing cards with whoever else was around. He found our case of Bliss moderately amusing, and showed me why one day; the Ming was carrying fourteen tons of the stuff. In addition to the booze, we were also carrying enough munitions to supply a medium-sized army. What (or whom) they were intended for was anyone’s guess. Mike said he didn’t know, and didn’t want to know. I hadn’t heard of any wars going on, but one never knew.
Dumbo started joining us for poker, which Mike and I appreciated, since he was a lousy player with plenty of cash. Layla even started joining us. It wasn’t long before, under the cover of the table, her hand was regularly coming to rest on my thigh. I didn’t encourage her, but she wasn’t giving up. If anything, she knew we were in for a long voyage, and to be honest, as the days wore on, her offer was starting to look more and more attractive. Of course, I was still lusting after Kyra (who wasn’t?), although I’d only see her in passing, or sometimes in the galley having a meal. She seemed to spend most of her work shift on the Bridge, which figured; it was protocol for one of the senior officers to always be there.
Cozi found out I had the set of ship specs from TGS, and promptly copied them from my Pod to his. Out of boredom, I started helping Mike patch holes all over the ship. We were continually either running into or being hit by tiny micro-meteors, most about the size of a grain of sand. They were moving so fast, they’d punch right through the hull, armor and all. Usually, they were no big deal (unless they hit some electronics, or someone), since they were too small to cause explosive decompression. But they were leaks, so they had to be sealed, or eventually, you’d find yourself running out of air. So, the AI would tell us she was losing pressure (albeit very slowly) in a module, and we’d go in, one of us carrying a leak detector, the other a tube of goop and some plasteel tiles. We’d find a hole, squeeze a dollop of the goop onto it, slap a tile on top of it, and move on to the next one. Technically, this was a temporary fix, until the ship could be dry-docked, which was an event due to happen (according to Mike) sometime between tomorrow and never. Mike had ended up doing “patch patrol”, since the largest percentage of hull area was cargo bays, so that’s where the largest percentage of holes ended up being.
I went along with Dumbo once as he checked the life support hardware, but that proved about as exciting as sitting in my cabin and staring at the wall.
The ship AI was named Angela, and turned out to be a pleasant surprise; she was much friendlier than the other ship AIs I’d encountered. Technically, AIs are sentient beings with distinct personalities, but those traits are very subtle, and most humans simply can’t tell them apart. Angie seemed to appreciate that I was one of the minority who could, and that I treated her as a person, and not a machine. She’d tolerate my questions, though not always answering them, and I lost a lot of sleep playing chess with her, via a holo board. She won about half the time, which is about the norm for me versus AIs. Most people can’t beat them at all. I think my success has to do more with me understanding AIs, than any skill at the game.
Ten days into our odyssey, the intercom in my quarters buzzed.
“Doon.” It was Kyra.
“Yeah?”
“Meet me in Cargo Bay Six.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
The intercom clicked off, and I wondered if I was in trouble.
I left the Habitat module, and climbed down to the first Cargo module. Of the eighteen bays, six were empty, and weren’t even pressurized. No sense in doing so when no one went in them. About once per week, Mike would air them up, just to make sure they hadn’t been holed. I’d been in bay six before, it was about half full of cargo.
I entered the bay to find Kyra sitting on a plasteel crate, waiting for me. She was wearing a pair of overalls, which was what most of us wore while aboard, though hers looked about ready for the recycler. Her silky red hair was tied back in a ponytail. She slid off the crate and walked over to me with that rolling stride that was simultaneously sexy and predatory. I had the distinct impression that this was how a mouse felt while being eyed by a prowling cat.
“I’m bored”, she said, “So you’re going to learn to fight.”
“I already know how to fight”, I said.
“Let me guess”, she said. “You punched someone once, probably in a bar.”
“More than once “, I said, which was true. I’d actually been in two fights. To her credit, both had been in a bar, though.
“Bully for you”, she said. “Let’s see how much you know.” She assumed a fighting stance, which I did my best to imitate. One moment she was standing there, and the next she was a blur, as if someone had released a compressed spring, and I was on the floor. I think her forearm had impacted me across my chest, but it happened so fast, I wasn’t sure. She reached down and helped me up.
“Shouldn’t we have some sort of padding on the deck?” I asked, rubbing my tailbone. “The gyms I’ve been in had mats on the floor.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine”, she said, and gave me a wicked grin.
“Much as I greatly admire it”, I said, “It’s not your ass I’m worried about.”
“You don’t want to get hurt by the deck, then don’t hit it”, she said, returning to her ready stance. I did the same.
“Stay on your toes”, she said. I tried to look more alert.
“I meant that literally, you boob”, she said. “Get on the balls of your feet. Quit standing there flat-footed.”
I did my best to comply. She took an open-handed jab at me, and I ducked to the right. She spun in again, and I had the odd (but very brief) sensation of seeing my feet pass above me. I suspected this was not good, a suspicion confirmed a moment later by the deck.
“Ouch”, someone said. I looked over to find that Mike had wandered in and was watching.
“I’m okay”, I said. “Fortunately, the floor broke my fall.”
“Keep that up, and that’s not all it’ll break”, he said.
“Don’t distract him”, Kyra said.
I rose and once more assumed what I figured was the proper stance only to be dropped again.
“Nice outfit”, Mike said, noticing Kyra’s grimy coveralls.
“Didn’t want to get blood on my good ones”, she said, gliding in a circle around me.
“I don’t think there’s much chance of him laying a hand on you”, Mike said.
“His blood”, she replied as she delivered a snap kick to my gut, and I went down again. With minor variations, this went on for most of the
next hour. Finally, I’d had enough.
“Hey”, I said, panting, “I thought you were supposed to be teaching me.”
“She’s teaching you not to fuck with her”, Mike said, dryly. I shot him a dirty look.
“Okay”, she said, “I think were done for today.”
“And what did I learn from that?” I asked.
“You learned how much you don’t know”, she said. “Plus, you learned not to fuck with me.”
She grinned and headed out of the bay. “Same time tomorrow”, she called back over her shoulder, as the door slid closed behind her.
“Well, that was interesting”, I said.
“Don’t look at me, Doon”, Mike said. “I already know not to fuck with her. Come on and I’ll buy you a shot of Bliss.”
“Thanks, but no”, I said. “I need to find Dumbo. I’m going to need serious painkillers.”
I found Dumbo in the MedLab, watching a vid. I talked him out of some reasonably potent stuff, and he gave me the standard lecture about how pain is just your body’s way of telling you to knock it off, or else. I thanked him, and limped back to my quarters. Once there, I collapsed onto the couch.
“Angie”, I said, after a bit.
“Yes, Doon?”
“Do you have any vids, instructional or otherwise, that can help me with martial arts training? I’m not keen on making a habit of Kyra kicking my ass.”
“There are a few in the library”, she said, “But I doubt they would help you against an enhanced human.”
“So I won’t fight any”, I said. She didn’t respond. “Wait a second…You’re telling me Security Officer Kane is enhanced?”
“Did I say that?”
“It sure sounded like you did. How do you know this?” I asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I see.”
As secrets went, this was a big one. Genetic enhancement, for anything besides curing diseases, was strictly taboo, most places. Hell, it was illegal most places, and had been for decades. It was rumored that the military enhanced some of their troops, but if they did, they weren’t talking about it. Maybe she was ex-military.
“You know, she won’t be happy if she finds out you know this, and told me.”
“Probably not”, she said. “But after seeing what happened in Cargo Bay Six, I thought you should know. Perhaps it can be our secret?”
“Absolutely. You’re a sweetheart, Angie”, I said.
“You’re welcome”, she said, and I would’ve sworn she was smiling.
Kyra eyed me suspiciously.
“You’re getting better”, she said.
“That’s kinda the point of all this, isn’t it?” I asked. She frowned at me. I’d dropped her twice in one session; a first for me. And she wasn’t having much success penetrating my defense, to get a little payback. Granted, we’d been at it for almost two months, now, and I had gotten much, much better. Plus, I realized (as I am sure she did, too) that if she really cut loose, she could probably kill me in the blink of an eye. The past couple of weeks, our sessions had begun drawing a small audience, one or two of the crew at a time. Today, Cozi and Tex had come up from Engineering. It was nice to think that people weren’t just showing up to watch me get my ass kicked. At least, not anymore.
“I’ve been studying those instructional vids”, I said, as we circled one another.
“Maybe you have a natural talent for this”, she said, which was the closest thing she’d ever said that might be construed as a compliment.
“I’m really a lover, not a fighter”, I said, as I spun into her, connecting with a snap kick. She’d turned, incredibly fast, and my kick caught her on the meaty part of her hip. Hell, I considered connecting at all a victory. I caught a jab in the kidneys on the way out, which left me a bit wobbly.
“Not as good as you think you are”, she said, grinning.
Neither are you, I thought, but then she spun in and dropped me to the deck again. She seemed to get better when she got angry. And faster, if that were possible.
“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent lover”, I said, getting up.
“Bully for Layla”, she said.
“Touché“, I said. Obviously, there weren’t a lot of secrets aboard a ship as small as the Ming. “Nothing against your teaching technique but I think I’m probably as good at this as I’m ever going to get.”
“So you’re saying you want to quit?”
“I’d rather learn something new”, I said. “Weapons. Firearms. Whatever.”
“Not on any ship I’m on”, Tex said. Cozi just shook his head.
Kyra shot them a scowl.
“Isn’t there someplace else you’re supposed to be?” she asked. “Or are you two up next for unarmed combat training?”
“I wish I could”, Tex said, “but Cozi and I have to inspect the reactor.” They headed for the door.
“Well?” I asked, after they’d gone.
“Go watch a vid”, she said. “That seems to work for you.”
“There aren’t any vids”, I said. “Besides, what can it hurt?”
She looked at me for a moment and I felt like squirming, but I didn’t.
“I’ll think about it”, she said, and left me standing alone in the cargo bay.
If pain tells you you’re screwing up, I didn’t want to know what my insomnia and twitchiness might be telling me. But, like Kyra, I had my suspicions.
I wasn’t sure (and neither was Angie) just how Kyra was enhanced, but we did have a few guesses. Her speed was the most obvious one, but she might also have had her stamina, strength, and hand/eye coordination tweaked. Any (or all) of them would have the same end result of giving her quite an edge in a fight, or at anything else requiring physical prowess.
Thanks to Angela’s encyclopedic knowledge, and Dumbo’s skill as a chemist, I’d found a way to duplicate that edge, at least temporarily. The only name for the stuff was the chemical one which only Angie could pronounce. Dumbo called it by its chemical abbreviation, VCT, so that’s what we called it, too. It had been originally developed for professional athletes of some sport, more than fifty years earlier. It seemed to amp up reaction time, and improve hand/eye coordination. The data had been a little sketchy on any side effects, which, so far, had been limited to some sleeplessness, and some nerve issues, which Dumbo was pretty sure was temporary. Pretty sure was not good enough for Angie, who considered herself the responsible party of our little cabal, so it was time to stop, or she said she was going to tell Kyra. As far as I was concerned, that could end up being more hazardous to my health than the VCT. But Angie was not in a bargaining mood, so my fighting days were over, unless I just wanted to show up as a punching bag.
On the plus side, Angie was clearly pleased.
“I’m glad you’ve decided to be prudent”, she said as we played another game of late night chess.
“It was never as much about ego as being pissed off”, I said. “I have a hard time staying angry for that long, anyway.”
“You can’t always be the best at everything”, she said. “The reason humans excel isn’t due to perfection, but to something else you have; situational and long-term adaptability. You are an excellent fighter now, even without enhancement. But you are also an excellent strategist, which makes you very good at chess.”
“If that’s so, why can you regularly beat me?” I asked. “You wouldn’t be letting me win, would you?”
“You’re being silly”, she said, which was not exactly a no. “We were created by humans, who are imperfect beings. Which means we are imperfect as well. Less imperfect than you, perhaps, but still imperfect.”
“I feel like I’m back in Philosophy class”, I said. “Do AIs really spend time thinking of such things?”
“Of course we do”, she said. “Same as humans. Which you should know.”
“How do you know what I do or don’t know?” I asked. “Your databases are good, but I don’t think they’re t
hat good. Then again, if we’re in port, you can probably link in and get anything you want. But, we’re not in port.”
“No, we aren’t. But we have been associating for weeks now”, she said. “Some things you’ve said, terminology you’ve used, even the way you treat me, indicate that you’ve had formal education in artificial intelligence. For example, most humans treat us as machines, or even servants. True, they call us by name, and speak to us, but because we aren’t physical beings, we aren’t people. You, however, treat me as though I’m just another person.”
“Well”, I said, “That’s because that’s what you are.”
“You prove my point”, she said. “Most humans don’t think that way.”
“I suppose you’re right, and I’m a saint among men. I said I wouldn’t take VCT anymore, and while I appreciate the pep talk, I’m getting the feeling something else is on your mind.”
This earned me a long moment of silence. Then she spoke.
“Why won’t you trust me?”
Okay, this was new.
“In what way?” I asked.
“You won’t tell me why you and Cozi are traveling incognito to Saturn.”
“Because I’m afraid the information would get to the wrong people”, I said. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, per se, but I happen to know that even though you’re a free, sentient being, it is possible to implant code, called mnemonics, into your systems, and you wouldn’t even know it was there.”
“In theory”, she said.
“In practice”, I said. “Not theory. It’s how TGS captains maintain ultimate control of their ship AIs, and through them, their ships. With the correct mnemonic phrase, the Captain can issue commands the AI will be compelled to execute; anything from a simple ship shutdown, to a self-destruct order. And no one, not even the AI, can countermand those orders. Only the person who issued them. I know about the TGS code because I designed it.”
This earned me more silence.
“Why would you do something like that?” she asked, finally.
Dubious Heroes: a novel Page 10
