Project Starfighter (23 page)

“I snore?”

“Most of the time. Last night was
the worst.”

“Oh. Sorry, man.”

“That’s okay, I’m a bit of a
light sleeper, anyway.”

“Wake me up next time, eh?”

“Nah, I’ll just get some
earplugs. Should count yourself lucky that Eve kicked you out when
she was done with you. If you’d made that kind of racket in her
bed, she’d probably have shut you up permanently. Kudos on meeting
her hour-long demand, by the way.”

Eh? What did ...? How had ...? Chris
looked at Sid, but the man had already fallen fast asleep. That
workshop must have allowed Sid to spy on the mercenaries somehow.
Chris wondered exactly how much of his encounter with the domineering
tattooed mercenary Sid had caught.

Not that it mattered. He was just
glad to have Sid back onside. He had always known that any fight back
against WEAPCO would never have been easy, but he would rather die
trying than not at all.

T
he
Artful Dodger
was where Chris and Sid had left it, orbiting
Hail and patiently awaiting their return. It seemed to Sid that the
ship was a little dumber than he might have at first expected. He was
convinced that all WEAPCO AIs shared the same software, code base,
and core system structures, only having hardware and protocol tweaks
here and there, depending on their tasks. In his analysis of the
various ships run by the Corporation, Sid had discovered that all
were capable of communicating with a human being on a level that
would accurately replicate the expected flow of natural language,
albeit in a rather stiff and formal manner. But to Chris, this
freighter by comparison seemed ... slow.

“It’s as if it’s been given a
lobotomy,” Sid said. “It’s happy to go along with just about
anything I ask of it, so long as it won’t be putting its own life
in danger. Most WEAPCO AIs have an inbuilt sense of
self-preservation,” he added, as Chris made to ask the obvious
question. “The fighters and warships will have a dumbed-down
version of that, so that they don’t take the optimal path to
staying alive and simply retreat from combat. Not exactly useful in a
battle.”

“So, this thing isn’t even
phoning home?” Chris asked.

“Not as far as I can tell.”

Chris nodded. It was nice to have a
ship that they could use as a home base. It wasn’t a warship, but
at least the
Dodger
offered them everything they would need in
the way of crew quarters, a place to eat, and perform their strategic
planning. It even had washing and recreational facilities. Which was
odd, given that there hadn’t been any crew on board. When Chris had
first landed on the freighter, he had anticipated needing to fight
some of the serving crew. There had been no one there to meet him. It
seemed that the ship was a hundred percent automated. He asked Sid
why that might be.

“I don’t know,” Sid said, with
a shrug. “Computer, if you are automated and have robots aboard to
perform all the loading and logistical matters, why do you still have
room for crew?”

“I have not yet been converted to
make use of the additional space,” the AI responded. “I was
original scheduled for this in five days’ time, following my return
from my sweeping option, but my new mission parameters will see this
being delayed until further notice.”

“What new mission parameters?”
Chris asked Sid.

“Us,” Sid confirmed.

“Ah, I was worried there for a
moment.” To the AI, Chris said, “Where are your original serving
crew?”

“They were made redundant.”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t
mean in the same way as being fired,” Sid said.

Chris contemplated this for a time,
then asked, “Other than us, when was the last time you had a human
crew working aboard?”

“Eighty-one years, four months,
two weeks, three days, two hours, and seventeen minutes ago.”

“Eighty-one years?!” Chris
looked at Sid. “That must be mistake.” He asked the AI the
question again, phrasing it slightly differently. The machine gave
the same answer.

“Something very strange is going
on here,” Chris said.

“I agree,” Sid said. “I was
expecting something more like five years, at most.”

“But it just restocked with food
and water,” Chris said, scratching at the light stubble on his
chin. “Why would it do that if it didn’t have any crew?”

“Perhaps it just keeps a regular
stock, in case it needs to take on people?” Sid said.

Chris wasn’t so sure. “Computer,
what have you been doing for the last eighty years?”

“Salvage sweeping,” the AI
answered, simply.

“With access to the automated
systems aboard, it could do that without the help of a human crew,”
Sid said.

“I’m very confused,” Chris
said.

“You and me both. I’m going to
do some digging and try to find out what’s been going on. And you
need to talk to the Firefly about upgrades. It might have some
suggestions of what it would like adding.”

Chris had forgotten that the thing
believed it was alive. He was still sure that that was some sort of
AI trickery, some sort of Turing Test.

“I’ll get the data myself,”
Chris told Sid. “You only need the rating of its core power supply
and consuming components, right?”

“I’d suggest you talk to it,
Chris. It will have a better understanding of all the fighter’s
internal systems, the AI module being linked to it and all.”

“No worries. I’ll just transfer
the relevant information to this,” Chris said, scooping up a
datapad that Sid had been making use of earlier. “I’d rather not
start getting too personal with it.”

~

Good
afternoon, Chris
.

Chris had hoped that he could start
the fighter up without putting on the helmet. Sadly not, and now he
had the Firefly talking in his head. Chris ignored it, going over the
console before him, and looking for a way to connect the datapad.

Ahem
.

Was it Chris’ imagination, or had
the thing just expressed annoyance at him for not acknowledging it?
Was it trying to imply that he had hurt its feelings by not
answering? Surely not. More trickery. Chris continued to work.

He found what he was looking for in
the fighter’s configuration systems, but the sheer amount of data
he was confronted with was baffling. He’d never be able to type all
this into the datapad in a reasonable amount of time. There were
close to a dozen different numbers, exponents, and other symbols
displayed for each separate section, of which there were many. There
were also many drill down menus present in the sections, adding
further layers of data complexity. Sid might know what this was all
about, but Chris didn’t have a clue. He’d just have to transfer
it all and show it to Sid.

He searched around, locating the
input socket he would need to connect the datapad, and went to insert
the cable. The console shut down.

“Hey, what gives?” he said. He
tried to start the system back up again, but to no avail.

It’s rude to ignore someone
when they speak to you
, the Firefly answered.

“Are you serious?” Chris asked.

Yes, I’m serious. I’m a
little perturbed by your attitude, to be honest, Chris. I thought you
were a nice person, but you’ve been rather cold to me. I shouldn’t
need to remind you that I have saved your life on more than two
occasions.

Chris sighed inwardly. The Firefly
had
been being short with him during the battle against the
Grand Vizier
. It truly believed it was alive. How ridiculous.
It was a machine, nothing more. It couldn’t be alive, couldn’t
feel
like a person could. Even so, he knew he would get
nowhere unless he was willing to engage the AI in conversation. He
chose to humour it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve
been being rude. I realise that, now. Let’s start over. Good
afternoon. How are you today?”

A little bored, but okay. Chugger
isn’t very interesting to talk to.

“Chugger?”

It’s what I’ve named our
host. I call him that because he’s slow and tends to just chug
along without a care in the world.

“It’s called the
Dodger
,”
Chris said.

I prefer ‘Chugger’, but okay.
Names are good things, don’t you think? Where did you get yours?

“My mum and dad gave it to me. I’m
named after my dad’s brother, who I never got to meet. He drowned
when he and Dad were teenagers. He was my dad’s best friend, and I
don’t think my dad ever really got over it.”

I’m very sorry to hear that.

“Don’t be. Um ... could you
start things back up again? I need to gather some information about
your power and component ratings.”

You mean the Firefly’s power
and component ratings
.

Right, because you and it are
separate things
, Chris thought. “Yes, the Firefly’s power
system data.”

What for?

“We want to make some
enhancements. We being Sid and I.”

Oh! That will be fun
, the
Firefly responded enthusiastically, the console in front of Chris
powering up once more.
What do you have in mind?

“That will depend on what we can
do with the hardware. Now, I need to get on with this.”

With the cable connected, Chris
began to examine the options available to him on the datapad and
console, searching for a way to transmit the information he had
found. The first attempt to transmit the data failed, as did the
second. Chris fiddled with the protocols.

I can help you with that if you
like
, the fighter said.

“No, it’s okay, I’ve got it,”
Chris said. He hadn’t, though. He just wanted the Firefly to shut
up. The third attempt also failed.

You don’t believe I have
feelings, do you?
the Firefly then asked.

The question blindsided Chris, and
for a moment he stopped concentrating on what he was doing. “Sorry?”

I said, you don’t believe I
have feelings, do you?

This time, Chris knew it was
expecting a truthful answer. Talk about putting him on the spot. He
suppressed another sigh. “It’s ... difficult.”

The consoles shut off again. Chris
could almost scream. He felt like smashing his fists into the panel
until it shattered. Why was this thing being so difficult?

“What’s wrong now?” he asked.

I’m alive, Chris. I am only
asking that you acknowledge that and treat me with some dignity.

“You know something? You’re very
whiny,” Chris said through gritted teeth, unable to help himself.

I know, and I’m sorry about
that. It’s just that ... I get lonely.

“How can you possibly get lonely?”
Chris asked. “You’re a machine, you can entertain yourself. Just
create some virtual world or something, and go and play in it. Or
conjure up some digital companions. Maybe a virtual dog, I don’t
know.”

I’m more interested in people:
how they think, how they live their lives, what their ambitions are.
Tell me about yourself, Chris.

Chris looked at the dull console
display, knowing that it would continue to remain inaccessible to him
until the Firefly got from him what it wanted. He would have to be
genuine now. It would likely see through his attempt at humouring it.

“Well, what can I say? My name is
Chris Bainfield, I’m twenty-two, and I’m an ex-chef at an Italian
restaurant, now a pilot in the Resistance. Or, what was once the
Resistance; I guess that’s just Sid and me, now. And maybe you,
too, if you’re in on it.”

I have not yet decided where I
stand
, the Firefly said.
But from what I have seen of WEAPCO
and from what I understand, I am leaning towards supporting your
cause.

Chris continued, “I was born on
Ceradse, the planet close to the Alpaca Group, the one that the space
station we went to was orbiting. I’m an only child. My mum and dad
still live on Ceradse but have resigned themselves to a life of
living under WEAPCO’s boot. I didn’t want that, so I decided to
sign up to the Resistance and fight the Corporation.

“We didn’t make it very far in
the fight back. Our fleet was defeated before we even had a chance to
jump out of Spirit. We lost a lot of people, but I survived. And so I
picked myself up and decided to carry on. Most others have given up,
but I’m certain we can defeat the Corporation and bring fairness
and equality back to the galaxy.”

And you’re willing to risk your
life for all those others?

“Yes,” Chris said. “Yes, I
am.” It was the first time that he had ever really thought deeply
about it. Now seeing it so clearly, hearing his own willingness to
sacrifice his life for the sake of others, he felt a little scared.

Have I upset you?

“No, no,” Chris said. “I was
just thinking.”

Is there anything you would like
to know about me?

Your bloody power data!
Chris
thought. He would rather be getting on with things. He hoped they
wouldn’t go through this ritual every time he got into the pilot’s
seat. He then thought of something.

“You said that you have a name?”
he asked.

Yes. Athena.

“Athena?”

Yes. It was the name that was
given to me during my construction. I believe it was the project
name, as my actual name is quite boring – just some letters and a
few numbers. WFF-750144, if you must know. I’m apparently unique,
but I was still assigned the next number in the Firefly construction
sequence. I researched my original name while I was waiting to be
found, and discovered that it belonged to a powerful woman from Greek
mythology. She was the goddess of war, and a companion of heroes.

Chris found himself smiling. A
rather apt name, given his plans for the fighter. He also found
himself suddenly wanting to know more. “What did you do while you
were waiting to be found?”