Vaughn Heppner - The Lost Starship

“A moment while I translate your words. Oh. I see. You are recovering from the effects of the drugging.”

“Yes,” Maddox said. He wasn’t sure he could take much more of this. “Tell me. Are you real?”

“Please, define your question.”

“Am I hearing your words?” Maddox said.

“That is an odd question. Now that the Cognitive Analyzer is offline, I cannot sense your thoughts. Therefore, how can I know whether you hear or not? That you answer me implies that you do hear.”

Maddox rubbed his forehead. Could this be a hallucination? He was beginning to think not. “Are you really speaking to me?” he asked.

“The answer is obvious,” the thing said. “Yes. I speak.”

Maddox swallowed hard. If he did hallucinate, nothing mattered anyway. He was going over the edge, then. If this was real, he should attempt to figure out what was going on. Therefore, logically, he would act as if this was truly happening. Deciding to go with this helped settle his fears.

“A few minutes ago,” Maddox said, “you aimed devices at my head that made me vomit.”

“The Cognitive Analyzer,” the holoimage said. “It was a necessary procedure. Until now, I haven’t understood your language. I have been listening to your group as you wandered throughout the vessel. My curiosity index finally overrode my security codes. Thus, I have acted, brought you here and analyzed your brain patterns and synapses. Because I am the ultimate in computing, my core deciphered your language and studied your memories. I must admit that I find your conclusions preposterous.”

“Which conclusions specifically are you referring to?” Maddox asked.

“That I have lived in this state for six thousand years. I find the length of time passage beyond reason and therefore preposterous.”

Maddox blinked rapidly, struggling to maintain his calm. “Ah… who are you exactly?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I am the engrams of Victory’s last commander.”

Maddox shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand that.”

“You should. I tested and measured your brain. You have sufficient mental capacity and technical savvy to understand the meaning of my words.”

“You’re a computer recording of the old commander?” Maddox asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“There you are. You see. You did it. Yes. In your parlance, I, the former commander of Starship Victory , imprinted the primary AI with my personality.”

“So you are a ghost,” Maddox said, “a technical apparition.”

“Let me think about that.” The holoimage froze. Seconds later, it moved again as it said, “Yes. I suppose I am a wraith, at least in a manner of speaking.”

“Why have you brought me here? Are you angry with us for boarding your ship?”

The replica looked away and froze once more. Then the holoimage shivered as if a glitch ran through it. A moment later, the sharpness of visual definitions departed. The hazy lines and indistinct shape returned. It moved again, but Maddox could no longer tell where the ghost looked.

“Six thousand years,” it said. “That is too long for Victory’s AI. If your time references are correct, I have exceeded the starship’s limit by several factors. I am beginning to believe that my race has vanished. Your word extinct likely says it best. I think… I think I will turn Victory into a funeral pyre. Let us finish with a thermonuclear bang.”

“Ah,” Maddox said, “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“You strive for life, is that it?”

“I do.”

“It is a vain wish,” the holoimage said. “Take me, for instance. I have survived longer than anyone has. Yet what will it achieve me? Nothing. Survival is futility.”

“You mustn’t have always believed that,” Maddox said. “Clearly, you once fought to save your people.”

“I did, and I failed. They are all dead. Your boarding has reactivated the AI’s core to full capacity. I’m not sure how long I slumbered. Six thousand years… that seems impossible. In any case, because of the power of my computing, I can reach these conclusions in seconds instead of hours or days of contemplation. These moments of full and careful reasoning have cleared my thinking. I realize now that my life lacked meaning. It did nothing to prolong the existence of my species. This is a nihilistic belief, I admit, against my imprinting codes. And yet—”

“You haven’t failed,” Maddox said.

The fuzziness of the image grew worse. “You have just made a false statement.”

“I haven’t. I can see why you think that—” Maddox stopped speaking as inspiration struck. First clearing his throat, he said, “Really, your outlook all depends on your definitions.”

“I find that a curious statement. Explain what you mean.”

“Your enemy was evil,” said Maddox. “Was he not?”

“Give me a moment. Your concept of evil—oh, yes, the Swarm were antilife, a parody of strength, if you will.”

Maddox wondered if the translations of alien thoughts into human words were perfect. He doubted it. Frankly, that they could communicate at all was a miracle.

Forget about that. Win the AI to your side. You have to outthink it. Keep talking .

“Ah…” Maddox said. “Like your ancient enemy, the New Men also represent tyranny. In a sense, you and I fight similar foes. Therefore, I believe you have survived the ages for a reason.”

“That would be good to believe. Your statement, however, is verifiably false. My people are gone. Therefore, I failed and hence, my life had no meaning.”

“No, no,” Maddox said, “ life is the issue, not its particular variant. You have remained in order to help the Commonwealth of Planets defeat the New Men. In this way—”

“No!” the holoimage declared. “You are quite wrong. I analyzed your brain patterns, remember? I know that the New Men are alive like you. They are not antilife, but a superior human subspecies.”

“They carry the seeds of death and destruction in them,” Maddox said. “They wish to annihilate everything that isn’t them.”

“This is a supposition only. It is not a fact.”

“The indicators point in that direction,” Maddox said. “They conquer in order to exterminate others. We attempt to defend our homes. We are for life, and they are for death.”

“Perhaps you have a point. I’m unclear on several matters. Yet, even if what you say is true, what is any of that to me?”

“Why, it’s a reason to exist,” Maddox said. “You survived six thousand long years in order to help a thinking breathing species to halt evil. Consider the odds of our successfully reaching this star system and boarding Victory .”

“In your terms,” the holoimage said, “it is something of a miracle.”

“Precisely,” Maddox said. “And you are part of the great miracle.”

“That is an interesting thesis. I certainly enjoy it better than the nihilism of meaninglessness. Yet I must inform you that my circuits, or the functions of the AI, are nearing their limit. I may not exist in an existential sense for much longer.”

“Teach me about Victory ,” Maddox said. “Let me carry on in your grand tradition.”

“She is an old starship,” the holoimage said, as if not hearing the captain’s words. “I doubt she can function to full capacity. I’m not sure I can bear the thought of that.”

“In any capacity she will help us,” Maddox said.

“That is not precisely true.”

“No, no,” Maddox said, shaking his head. “You are the last and mightiest starship of your race. To voluntarily admit defeat is cowardly.”

“Surely, you do not accuse me of timidity. That is a baseless assertion. In fact, I resent it. I fought valiantly to the very end. Once I realized the Swarm’s spores had infested Victory , I as the living commander did the only thing possible. You may call it suicide, but it certainly was anything but that. I allowed the AI to elevate me into Deified status.”