The Lost Starship

-34-

By slow degrees, the captain’s awareness returned. He found himself deposited upon what might have been a piece of alien reclining furniture.

The last few minutes before he went unconscious bloomed upon his memory. Maddox didn’t panic. That wouldn’t help him. This was the time for maximum calm.

He opened his eyes and sat up. The chair was too big for him, but that hardly mattered. A swivel of his head one way and then the other showed him he was in a round chamber. What seemed like control panels lined the circular room. Lights flickered on those panels, and they had the tentacle slots.

He searched in vain for the robot that had incapacitated him. Wisely, the thing had taken his gun.

“Hello,” Maddox said. “Can you hear me?”

Silence greeted him.

He tried to stand, but found himself too groggy to get his limbs working properly. With a sigh, he sank back against the chair. First squeezing his eyes shut, he opened them and carefully examined the chamber. It seemed like the starship’s bridge. No skeletons littered the floor. No torn robots lay about strewn here and there. The deck gleamed. No slime had ever stained this area.

“What’s the point of this?” Maddox asked.

A hissing noise alerted him. To his left, the air shimmered and then crackled strangely. Once more, panic threatened. He swallowed, waiting, watching the crackling air.

Slowly, it solidified into a shape, but lines in the thing—like bad reception—made it fuzzy and blurry.

Is that a holoimage?

With this puzzle galvanizing him, Maddox struggled to his feet. Swaying, wondering if this is what it felt like to be drunk, he approached the hazy image. Gathering his resolve, Maddox passed his hand through it.

Yes, it’s a holoimage or the alien equivalent of one.

The haziness of the thing became fractionally more distinct. It showed something vaguely humanoid. Was that accurate or did his mind play tricks on him? The shape didn’t appear to have tentacles of any kind.

Then, distinct alien words sounded from it.

Maddox yelped and staggered back, crashing against the chair.

The sounds vibrated once more, and they definitely seemed to come from the hazy thing that he’d first thought a holoimage.

Is it an alien ghost?

Maddox’s head twitched in the negative. This wasn’t the time to be superstitious. Besides, the idea terrified him. He didn’t want to deal with something like that.

“Hello,” he said.

Around the chamber, slots opened in various bulkheads. Out of each popped a small radar-like dish. They aimed central antenna at him.

Maddox wanted to dodge, but he played a hunch, standing still. Light at the end of each antenna told him the dishes had activated. Heat struck his head. It intensified. Finally, he cried out, ducked away and rubbed his scalp where it hurt.

The lights on the antenna dimmed, and the dishes moved, aiming at his head again. The heat returned, although not as hot as before. Maddox felt lightheaded. Then vertigo struck. He clutched his stomach and threw up what remained of his meal, leaving a stain on the otherwise clean deck.

The radar dishes with their antenna retreated into the bulkheads and the slots slid shut.

The hazy image before him solidified into a replica of himself. Is this what Brigadier O’Hara had meant by needing the right brain patterns? The Iron Lady would only have learned that through Professor Ludendorff. Why hadn’t Dana known about that? Could the doctor be lying about not knowing?

“Captain Maddox,” the holo-replica said, the mouth moving in an approximation of speech. “Welcome to the bridge of Starship Victory.”

The unreality of the moment made it difficult for Maddox to think. Was he dreaming? Had a robot really sprayed a knockout drug in his face? Maybe the strain of these past months and the dire need caused him to hallucinate. He so wanted to understand the ship that he had invented this scenario.

“Are my words unclear?” the holoimage asked.

“No,” Maddox managed to croak.

“Are you unwell?”

Did it hurt to play along with his delusion? Maddox shrugged. It would probably be okay. “I’m disoriented,” he told the thing.

“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.”

“When you say that,” Maddox asked, “do you mean your engrams imprinted upon the AI?”

“Humans are an inferior species, to be sure. I’ve already tried to speak in a way so you could understand. I have lived through the ages, hunting the ancient enemy, ready to reengage in battle when needed. Now, I find myself weary. I believe ship functions have deteriorated to a greater extent than I had imagined. Your successful penetration of my vessel shows that.”

“What about the dead intruders strewn throughout the ship?”

“They were a last mad gamble,” the holoimage said. “The Swarm failed to subdue me. We, or I, held to the end and annihilated their last ships so they couldn’t infest other star systems.”

“They destroyed all your worlds then?”

The holoimage froze as if thinking. When it revived, it said, “Yes, yes, our worlds are smashed wrecks. Clearly, I have outlived my usefulness. With the extinction of my race, it is time for me personally to enter eternity.”

“Before you go,” Maddox said, “you must teach me how to run Victory.”

“Surely, you jest. None but I will control the greatest starship of the ages. Do you believe I will relinquish command so easily? I have already shown you and the universe the great lengths I will go to hold my post. None shall say I gave up.”

Maddox began to wonder if the AI had become unbalanced. Wouldn’t a man go insane if he were trapped for six thousand years? What did it really mean to say that the commander’s engrams were imprinted on the AI?

“What is this?” the holoimage asked with anger. “You brought others with you? Now I see your scheme. This is baseless trickery, Captain Maddox. You plotted all this, sensing I would want to communicate after all this time. Admit I’m right.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about now,” Maddox said.

“Look then, foul sentient. Know that you and your allies have not caught me unawares. Even as you and I speak, I am busy watching the void.”

The holoimage pointed at a large screen. It activated, showing the red giant star.

“I still don’t understand you,” Maddox said. “What about the star am I supposed to see?”

The holoimage seemed to glance at the screen. “My mistake,” it said. “Observe now.”

Maddox took several steps closer, and the star leaped closer in view as the holoimage showed him greater magnification. Maddox saw the burning photosphere. Then three dark pinpricks burst out of the star. They each shimmered blackly. As the three objects traveled away from the star’s surface, the darkness faded to lighter colors.

“What are those?” Maddox asked.

“It should be obvious,” the holoimage said. “The vessels have powerful deflector shields. Those shields protected them from the star’s energies and heat. With the intensities drained away from them, the shields are now reverting to their normal color.”

Finally, Captain Maddox understood. “The New Men used the wormhole,” he whispered.

“Your allies, you mean,” the holoimage accused.

“Not so,” Maddox said. “They are my hunters, seeking me, seeking you now. They are the new antilife, the new Swarm. They will batter down Victory’s shields, if the starship possesses them.”

“It does if I will it,” the holoimage said.

“Yes,” Maddox said. “They will batter down your shields and no doubt send boarders. The New Men have come to capture you and your ship.”

“Never!” the holoimage said. “I will self-destruct before that happens.”

Maddox thought quickly. He’d detected vanity in the being. He needed to play off that.

“Yes,” Maddox said. “You are exceedingly wise to self-immolate yourself.”

“I know that I am wise. What I wonder is how a foolish creature like you has come to the right conclusion about me?”

“That’s easy,” Maddox said. “After six thousand years of depreciation, Victory has become weak. It could never defeat three star cruisers. Do you know three of those craft annihilated Admiral von Gunther’s strengthened battle group?”

“You think that Victory is weak?” the holoimage asked.

“Of course,” Maddox said. “By your own admission—”

“Three star cruisers dare to approach me?” the holoimage asked, interrupting the captain.

Maddox waited a half-second, thinking how to say this. “They are the New Men I spoke about earlier, the new Swarm, if you will. They dare to face anyone they want because none has been able to defeat them. I believe they plan to turn this star system into a shrine, dedicating it to their own greatness.”

The holoimage began to flicker as if thinking. Finally, it said in a strange voice, “If that is so—that they dare to take what is holy to me and profane it—then they shall die. Prepare yourself, Captain Maddox. After six thousand of your years, Victory is about to engage in momentous battle.”