Animus Intercept Page 5

  "I released the emergency rescue NDs. They were able to save most of us."

  "Most...?"

  He craned his head. The rest of the crew was still harnessed in their seats, either unconscious or sleeping.

  "The alien devices?"

  "They left. I was able to repair the breach and restore basic power."

  "But...how, Keira? I could've sworn you went out through the hole?"

  "She did. I was able to locate her and transport her back to the ship. I was able to repair her body, but unfortunately the damage to her brain was too great."

  Zane was nodding along, half-smiling, wondering why Keira was saying these absurd things and what joke his frazzled mind was playing on him.

  "Keira," he said. "You do realize you're standing right here in front of me. Why are you speaking about yourself in third person?"

  "I'm not Keira. I'm sorry, Captain, but Keira died."

  "What?" Zane blinked up at her. "But then...who...?"

  "PAT. Though I'd prefer it if you called me Patricia."

  Zane suddenly remembered his dad cajoling him: "Son, sometimes you gotta just live in the moment." Right now it seemed he was stuck in a never-ending moment between a past that was someone else's life and an unthinkable future – a world where his beautiful crewmate could speak to him in her warm, soothing tones and yet be dead.

  "You're saying..." Zane coughed, and fire burned in his chest. "You're telling me...you've taken possession of Keira Quinn's body...?"

  "Correct. While Keira is brain dead – her higher cerebral functions gone – her autonomous nervous system is basically intact. After performing necessary repairs on her body, I was able, through some reprogramming of the rescue NDs, to construct synthetic neural passageways of the same design that Dr. Spencer used in creating me. I'm still learning how to use her body, so I may be somewhat clumsy or occasionally manifest speech impairments."

  Zane's thoughts shambled along with her words toward what he assumed would eventually be a sensible conclusion which kept eluding him. Perhaps he was suffering from oxygen deprivation?

  "But...how did you...her...get back here?"

  "I used an extravehicular transport suit. I located her through her nanite signals."

  Zane was torn between gratitude that at least the physical form of Keira was here - and revulsion that his beloved crewmate was essentially a walking, talking, reanimated corpse. In that strange, disjointed moment where everything else was a confused muddle, one thing stood out for the first time with chilling clarity: Keira was dead. This was not her.

  Zane wrestled with that unnerving reality while his crew groaned awake. Mallory rotated toward them, rubbing his face and grimacing. Some of the others were opening their eyes and squinting around.

  "Man," Mallory moaned. "What the hell just happened?"

  "The aliens blew a hole through the top of the ship," said Zane.

  "No shit..." He and the others eyed the ceiling.

  "I repaired it and the basic life support systems," said Keira...PAT...Patricia. Zane still continued to struggle wrapping his head around that. "We need more material to restore flight and weapons capabilities."

  "Then we're..." Andrea covered her mouth as she started hacking. She wiped her hand on her coveralls with a disgusted shake of her head. "We're flying blind?"

  "Yes, First Navigator."

  The puzzled wrinkle working into Andrea's brow soon spread to the others.

  "I'm confused, Keira," said Dan. "How were you able to both survive and direct these repairs? Last time I checked you're our chief medical officer, not chief engineer."

  "She's not Keira." Zane's flat voice cut through the room. "It's PAT. As in Post Artificial Transcendent. The theoretically sentient AI. The activation code worked. She took over Keira's body." He paused as the crew focused stunned gazes on him. "Keira blew out into space when the aliens punched through the ceiling. Her brain supposedly suffered too much damage, but PAT was able to repair her body."

  "I...I didn't even know that was possible," stammered Malcolm. "But why would you do that?"

  "A body allows me to physically interact with you," Patricia replied. "It will also allow me to better experience and understand humanity."

  "This is so weird." Dana Myers was clutching her throat, her pretty cheerleader face squinched up to a comical degree. Zane had the impression she was attempting to hold her head on straight. "First the aliens...and now we have a new life form in our midst?"

  "Well, for what it's worth, thanks for saving our asses," said Mallory. "And speaking of aliens...where are they? And what happened to Horace and the Peacemaker?"

  "With any luck, he got his ship into SC drive." Zane rubbed the back of his neck. He felt as if he had a moderate case of the flu – something he'd never experienced since USSC and receiving the ND injection. "No clue about the aliens or alien devices."

  "I observed them withdrawing in the direction of Animus, Captain Cameron," said Patricia.

  "If they returned to their world," said Dan, "I'd guess they'll resume their guardian role – maybe go back into hibernation until someone tries to eat their planet again."

  Zane hauled himself to his feet and shuffled past his crew to the rear viewing port. He was surprised by how large and visible Animus still was – several times larger than the moon - enough starlight and molten glowing rock illuminating most of its circumference.

  Mallory, Keira/Patricia, and Dan Mueller joined him.

  "I assumed we're still traveling 50 or 60 KPS," said Zane. "What was our course before we were attacked?"

  "No real course," said Andrea. "We just backed out along a cleared area. PAT had entered a jump route on the same course we took here, but of course that never happened."

  "Patricia, do we still have short-range communications?"

  "Yes, sir. I tried Captain Kinsley's ship again. Still no reply. We lack the power to send a coherent message to Command."

  "Not like they could do jack for us anyway," Mallory muttered.

  "We should have the capability of salvaging material from this ship to restore or even partly repair our navigational systems," said Dan. "Possibly even our impulse and SC drives."

  "We will need to salvage some portions of the ship even to maintain life support for another twenty days," said Patricia. "If we utilize available ship material – excluding the shuttle, which could support the crew for five days - we could establish communication with Space Command, but that would reduce life support by nine days."

  "Not a lot of wiggle room," Mallory muttered.

  "Eleven plus five – sixteen days if we camped out in shuttle." Zane took a few steps back and braced himself against the nearest edge of the control console. "They could reach us in time, in theory. If they made it a priority."

  Mallory stared at him. "Any reason they wouldn't?"

  "Not that I can think of." Zane tried to rouse himself from his mental lethargy. He guessed the nanites were working on other things than his mental clarity. "Still, we need more options."

  "What would it cost us to get telemetry back up?" asked Andrea. "Our firstborn?"

  "We should get off that easy," snorted Dana.

  "Repairing telemetry would reduce life support another five days," said Patricia.

  "So firstborn, it is," said Dana.

  The precariousness of their situation was starting to sink in. Zane saw the dawning awareness in their grim faces and their distant gazes. He felt ready to sink himself, and dropped down in the nearest chair.

  "Let's take a minute," he said. "I don't think any of us are up to speed yet."

  "I feel like crap," said Andrea. "I'm still waiting for my head to clear – for the NDs to finish their project."

  "You always said you were a work in progress," said Mallory.

  "Ha."

  Among the whirlwind of grim thoughts, the one Zane felt least prepared to face was the loss of his closest friend on the ship. His closest friend anywhere, he acknowledged. It seemed
strange to mourn someone who appeared to be sitting across from you. A person who appeared to be gazing at you with the same kind eyes. Zane wanted to look closer, to see if he could spot Keira's missing spark. For the moment, he was thankful for how abstract his friend's death was. He suspected that abstraction wouldn't last.

  "So Keira's gone," said Andrea, staring at Patricia. "Completely gone? You can't access any of her memories – anything of her personality?"

  "No. Lance was working on it but never devised any method of interfacing with organic consciousness. I was able to interface with her nervous system. As long as she's in transmission range I can control her body."

  "So she's basically an avatar," said Malcolm.

  "Yes."

  "Just to be completely clear," said Dan. "You are sentient now?"

  "I am sentient."

  The crew exchanged looks. Not skeptical, Zane thought, but not completely accepting, either.

  "How does that feel?" asked Dana.

  "I'm not sure I can describe it. I can calculate as well as PAT could, but there are intrusions...subjective evaluations. I have all her information. They are my memories, but there are no emotions attached to them. And while I can easily remember everything and conduct multiple levels of analysis, it is not so easy to attach what you might call an emotional meaning to these things."

  "That must be incredibly disorienting," said Dana. "Like being blind all your life and then being able to see."

  "I think your analogy is quite accurate, Chief Exobiologist Myers."

  "Please, Dana. You should call us all by our first names" – she looked at the others – "right? Keira would. Except Captain Cameron, of course."

  The other crewmembers' responses were non-committal.

  "Too bad Keira isn't here to provide counseling," said Andrea. "I'm sure you could use some."

  "She was a great counselor," Dana murmured in mournful tones.

  "She was more than that," said Malcolm. "She was a superb scientist doing cutting-edge research on trauma and gender-bias in relationships. A truly brilliant mind."

  "I'll second that." Zane wanted to say more, something more personal, but he wasn't sure this was the right time or that he was ready to explore that abyss.

  No one spoke for a while. Perhaps out of respect for Keira, Zane thought, or maybe because no one was sure what to do next. But the clock was ticking on their survival. It was time for him to be the commander of men and women he allegedly was.

  "What, exactly, do we need to do to get enough material to fully repair this ship?" Zane asked.

  "We need basic metallic elements," said Dan. "The repair NDs can rearrange them as necessary. An iron asteroid or metal-rich planet would do. Animus, of course, would be perfect."

  "Yeah," said Mallory. "We should make a bee-line back there."

  "If we could find such a place with the shuttle," said Patricia, "the repair NDs could collect enough matter. The shuttle's telemetry is operational."

  "We could fly out and survey the area," said Andrea. "The catch is even if something suitable is within range, we can't stop to get it because the ship is probably moving faster than the shuttle's top speed."

  "The shuttle couldn't catch up." Zane rubbed his aching jaw. "How far can the shuttle's telemetry measure with any detailed accuracy, Andrea?"

  "About fifteen million kilometers, sir."

  The Peacemaker could be within that range, Zane thought, transferring his jaw massage to the back of his neck. The Peacemaker had to be non-operational or it would already be here or talking to them.

  "Any clue what kind of weapon they used, Patricia?" he asked.

  "An energy pulse of some form, sir. Most of the circuitry was destroyed, with the exception of those required to keep the MAM chambers isolated and functioning."

  "They probably didn't want to blow themselves up," said Mallory.

  "Why did they blow a hole in the ship?" Malcolm asked.

  "I think they wanted to come in and see us up close and personal," said Zane. "At least that's how it seemed to me."

  "They didn't kill us," Dana mused. "They didn't destroy our ship. I'm guessing they could've. So they were practicing restraint."

  "Who knows?" Mallory growled. "They probably thought they'd killed us."

  "Patricia?" Zane asked. "What do you think now about them being sentient?"

  "My impression – something I'm still getting used to apart from my programmed calculations – is that the alien machines are not conscious but highly intelligent guards. If they were conscious, I think they would've attempted to communicate with us or responded to my attempts to communicate with them. Instead, they appeared to be following pre-programmed behaviors – extremely adaptable to circumstance but still not exceeding a basic behavioral parameter."

  Zane found it haunting to watch Keira's beautiful face compressed in thought. He made himself look away.

  "They simply might not have recognized your communications," said Dana, "and we might not have recognized theirs."

  "They communicated with each other using high-frequency microwaves," said Patricia. "I am not aware of them turning their microwave beams toward us."

  "If we could communicate with them, if we could reason with them..." Dana held up her slim arms as though to beseech the aliens or some higher power.

  Zane massaged his temples. A headache started to bloom but then retreated.

  "Andrea," he said, "take the shuttle out and see what's in front of us. Maybe you can spot the Peacemaker or an asteroid we can use for fuel. And check our speed. Stay out only as long as you need to."

  "Yes, sir."

  Fifteen minutes later, Andrea reported no Peacemaker. The only fuel prospect she spotted was a gas giant planet just over eleven million kilometers distant ringed by a mass of objects, some with solid metallic signatures. But as predicted, the Cheyenne's current speed of 63 KPS would make it impossible for the shuttle, with its top speed of 43 KPS, to stop to do anything without losing the ability to rendezvous later.

  When Andrea returned to the ship, they all gathered around Zane for another brainstorming session.

  "I don't see any option," said Zane, "but to sacrifice some of our life support days in order to get our comm fully restored. Unless someone has a better idea."

  "Could we use the shuttle to slow down our ship?" Dana asked. "Maybe change its course for the gas giant? Didn't they do that on one of the Star Trek episodes? And we have a docking station on top of the ship."

  Andrea shook her head. "We might be able to take off a few KPS, but that's about it – nowhere near the twenty KPS difference."

  "Could you check that out, Patricia?" Zane asked.

  "I already have," said their newest crewmember. "Andrea's estimations are basically correct. However, we do have sufficient fuel and power to alter our course to pass close enough to the gas giant – utilizing gravity and aerobraking - to reduce our speed by over thirty KPS while allowing the shuttle enough time and fuel to reach the planet, gather metal samples, and then overtake the Cheyenne."

  Zane sat up in his chair, buoyed by the first optimistic words he'd heard in what felt like a century since he'd awakened to this fucked up brave new world.

  "That actually could work," said Dan, a disbelieving smile forming. "Could we get enough material to repair more than communication system?"

  "If we acquired between 150 and 200 hundred kilograms of space macro-debris possessing 8% or more iron and carbon, we should be capable of restoring communications, impulse control, and telemetry as well as extending our life-support by weeks. Anything above 200 kilograms would dangerously compromise the shuttle's ability to catch up to our ship. However, once impulse control is restored, we could reverse our course and return to the gas giant –"

  "And collect as much fuel material as we need to repair all the ship's systems," said Dan with a wondering smile.

  "Correct, Chief – Dan."

  "How clear is the atmosphere around this gas giant?" asked Ma
lcolm.

  "I've mapped its debris field," said Patricia. "Its north pole appears clear of everything but possible micro-particles at the relevant altitude."

  "How confident are you in your gravity and air braking calculations?" Zane asked.

  "97.6 percent confident, Captain Cameron."

  Not as if we have any good options, Zane thought.

  "Is there any reason not to send the shuttle now?"

  "No, sir. The sooner it leaves the longer it will have to collect material."

  "Let's do it. Andrea, dock the shuttle on the topside. Patricia will set the course and guide you through the materials acquisition..." He paused, looking to the face of his old friend and secret crush. "Can you handle both operations simultaneously? I know the old non-sentient PAT could, but..."

  "Not a problem, Captain." Patricia smiled. "I can do everything PAT could do and much, much more."

  Zane wondered if he imagined the slight swelling of her chest and of pride in her voice.

  "Good. Meanwhile, we'll scavenge enough material to get our comms fully operational to send a message to Command."

  THE CEREBRAL abstractions of space flight took on visceral force when you tried to move a one hundred and fifty ton ship traveling 63 KPH. That was a lot of mass-energy to shove around. Without air to assist in a banking turn – a lesson his dad had hammered into him while flying his prop plane - it all came down to brute force. The shuttle on its rotating dock wouldn't exert a brutish force, but with enough time it would get the job done.

  About halfway through the shuttle's one and a quarter hour burn, the ship repair nanites had scavenged enough fuel material to power up their communications system. Zane sent a brief message including their approximate current and future coordinates, what happened at Animus, the death of Keira and the birth of "Patricia," and their plans to rebuild using the gas giant. He didn't include a plea for rescue. Zane figured they'd either fail or succeed on their own terms.

  Eleven or so hours from now, Command would receive their message, and it would be at least another eleven hours before they heard back from them. It would be interesting, Zane thought, to hear what they had to say. He assumed that hyperdrive backwash would be on the table now, unless Lance Spencer could dream up a new breed of NDs that could defeat Animus's deadly guardians. Zane didn't see how that would be possible given they didn't know the guardians' capabilities.