Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1 (19 page)

              “Because the upgrades that we are going to make to the ship require more interconnectivity than we currently have.”  She licked her lips, hoping Ka’Xarian wouldn’t detect her nervousness.  “And a few of the systems, like the reactor, cannot truly be run at optimal efficiency without an AI.”

              The zheen stared in her direction for a long moment, his antennae moving in back and forth in very small circles, as though he was tasting the air, as though her lies somehow had more flavor than the half-truths she was spinning.  “If that’s the case, why do you look and act so guilty, Tamara?”

              She laughed, spinning this yarn as fast as she good.  “I didn’t want to alarm anyone.  In my time,” and her voice wavered a bit at that phrase, “AIs were quite common.  But by the state of this ship and judging from the attitudes of the crew when I had asked them about those sorts of things, the reception I got wasn’t exactly warm.”  That last part was a complete lie.  She hadn’t spoken at all about AIs, to anyone, for fear they might think she was building one and would try to stop her.

              The zheen stood there, continuing to watch her, not speaking for a while longer.  “Do you need any help?” he asked, surprising her.

              She blinked.  That certainly wasn’t the response she was expecting.  “You approve?”

              Ka’Xarian buzzed at her, laughing.  “Of course I approve!  Having an AI could make things a great deal simpler aboard ship.  We could have crewmen doing actual work rather than doing things the AI could do for us.”

              Tamara risked a tentative smile.  “I wasn’t expecting you to be happy about this.”

              “Why wouldn’t I?” he replied, coming in and sitting down on the bench next to her.  “This is wonderful!  Do you really think the old girl can handle an AI?” 

              She nodded.  “Right now, no.  But if we do some serious upgrades, most specifically to the computer core and data transfer system, I think she will be able to support an AI.”

              The zheen glanced at her, a timid expression she’d never seen on his insectoid face before.  “May I see the coding?”

              Tamara gave him one more wary look, then nodded, picking up the data pad.  “How did you even know I was working on this?” she asked as she brought up the link to the program.  It was running in the background on every spare scrap of the ship’s computer core she could find.  The next order of business once the replicator was overhauled was to get a few more banks of processors out. 

              The zheen hummed another chuckle.  “It wasn’t that hard, actually.  I noted that despite your impressive amount of cleanup and repair of our software systems that the computers were running even slower than usual, especially since the engines were completely offline.  I traced through the network and found your code.  I recognized a few pieces of your programming style and pieced some things together.  I’m not the programmer that you are, but I recognized a few things.”

              Tamara nodded in acknowledgement.  She continued bringing up the programming.  “How many people have you told?” she asked, keeping her voice as steady as she could.  She was prepared for the worst; that the Captain would be calling upon her to explain herself. 

              But Ka’Xarian shook his head.  “I’m your friend, Tamara,” he said simply.  “And while I don’t think a good portion of the crew is quite ready for these kinds of new and radical ideas,” his antennae flicked in amusement, “I am.  But I haven’t told anyone yet.  I think that once the AI is up and running in the ship’s systems, we can tell them then.”  He peered at the coding that she showed him and his compound eyes lit up.  “How long until it is complete?”

              Tamara laughed.  “Complete?  Never.  Operational?  We need the additional computing power first.  After that?  Probably about a month or so.  Then this new AI will be ready to make her appearance.”

              “Her?  It’s female?”  Ka’Xarian sounded amused.

              She looked at him in surprise.  “Well yes!  Why is that a surprise?  I plan on integrating her into the
Grania Estelle
’s computer core.  Why should it therefore be a surprise that the AI is female?”

              He shrugged.  “Never really thought about it, to be honest.  Up until a little while ago, I didn’t think about AIs.  Though I had been thinking that we would need more help.”

              She chuckled, looking up as the replicator beeped, signaling that this round of parts was completed and needed the trays removed so it could continue onto the next round.  “Just because the ship would have an AI doesn’t mean that we wouldn’t need more help.  AIs can only do so much.”

              “Right,” the zheen said, continuing to stare at the scrolling code.  He seemed mesmerized. 

              “Xar?” she asked, looking back at him.  He didn’t answer.  “Xar!”

              “What?” he brought his head up so his face was level with hers.  It wasn’t necessary for him to do so, with his compound eyes, he could nearly turned completely away from her and still be looking at her. 

              “I’m going to need the datapad back.  I have to go and work on the replicator now.”

              “It’s still got another tray of parts to go,” Xar pointed out.

              “Yes, but I need the assistant chief engineer to return to work so that we can keep the repairs on the ship moving forward.  I know the AI coding is very satisfying to watch, but we both need to get back to work.”

              He buzzed in annoyance at her, but he rose from the bench.  “All right, I’m going.  Let me know when you’re going to tear down the replicator.  I’ll come up and help.”

              She smiled at him.  “Trying to steal a girl’s secrets?”

              His antennae flicked in amusement.  “Well of course.  How’s a young male supposed to get ahead in the world if he doesn’t?”  With that he turned and walked out.

              “This is simply amazing,” the Captain muttered for perhaps the tenth time.

              The tearing down and rebuilding of replicator one was going smoothly.  As Tamara had suspected, a number of the components were worn-down, and more than a quarter of the internal circuitry was on its last legs.  The nanite containment unit was fine, thankfully, she built a new storage container and transferred the nanites over, not wanting to take any chances.  The replicator nanites were programmed to destroy themselves if they escaped from the containment unit, but it was always better to err on the side of caution.

              Tamara laughed.  “I know this is something that you’re not used to seeing or really using, but for me, this is a commonplace thing.  I’m actually a little disappointed that we don’t have more.”

              “More?  You said when you were done that we would have two industrial replicators.”

              “Yes, I did.  This one and then build a second one to replace the one the raiders stole.”  She grimaced.  “And to answer your question, I’m used to working at a shipyard.  It’s been a year, as far as my body can tell, but the shipyard I was at?  It had sixteen class six industrial replicators, a dozen class fives, and two class sevens.  I had a crew of about eighteen thousand, a dozen AIs, all well trained and motivated.  We could completely tear down and rebuild the
Grania Estelle
in thirty-six hours, going full tilt.”  Both the Captain and Ka’Xarian were stunned into silence.  It seemed like a crazy dream, industry on that scale.

              “You miss it, don’t you?” the Captain asked after a long moment.

              She didn’t stop working.  She didn’t answer, but that alone confirmed his question.  Finally, she did.  “Of course there are things that I miss.  I miss my job.  I miss the building.  I miss the structure and the certainty that I was doing what I should be doing.  I had a purpose.  I had friends and colleagues.”  Tamara took a long, shaky breath, but didn’t elaborate further.

              “And then that all went away.”  Ka’Xarian’s voice was kind.

              She glared at them both.  “Why are you both pushing me about this?  I’m sure you’ve had happier times in your past.”

              The zheen’s antennae flatted to his head in contrition, the Captain only nodded.  Tamara continued what she was doing, Xar handing her things as she requested them.  Finally, the Captain got up and started to walk away.  Glancing back one more time at the machine, he commented, “Truly amazing,” and then left the compartment.

              Repairs continued apace, and within two weeks, engine one, two and three were completely rebuilt and online.  A good deal of the hull repairs had been started; that would be a long process, one that would probably take months to complete.  Right now, the
Grania Estelle
could move again, but the hyperdrive, shields and sensors would need to be repaired before the ship could leave the system.  However, with the third engine up and running, the ship now had half again as much sublight thrust as it had before, which meant that in-system trips would take less time.  That made the Captain very happy to hear, though hearing that there was a great deal of work yet to be done on the hull before they would be able to utilize that extra engine power, tempered that happiness.

              The injured were recovering as well.  Physically, at any rate.  Their scars from the raid would linger for a long time, possibly forever.  There wasn’t really any sure fire way to heal that sort of injury, but the crew were a tight knit group.  They had all served together for at least a year, flown many light years together.  So they mourned together and they gathered together to try and work their way through the pain. 

              But one of many problems was the food situation.  Cookie’s pantries were not replenishing and the authorities on the planet were still refusing to allow them to land.  Apparently a very large freighter hanging around in orbit was making the locals very nervous.  The Captain had tried to explain numerous times that they were not part of a pirate force, they were an independent trading vessel.  But they refused to listen.

              “If you attempt to land on our world, you will be attacked!” the man on the other end of the communication answered, his voice sounding utterly officious and self-serving, before ending the call.

              “Damn,” the Captain said, pounding a fist lightly on the arm of his chair.  “Why can’t they see sense?”  He stood.  “I’ll be in the mess hall.  Call me if there’s a change.”

              Cookie was waiting for him, a worried expression on his normally very cheerful face.  “Captain, good, I need to speak with you.”

              “And I with you, Cookie.” 

              The chef gestured to one of the tables and they both sat.  Two mugs of coffee were also there, Cookie had had the foresight to realize that they would need them.  They sipped the hot liquid for a moment before the chef spoke.  “We are in trouble, Captain.  We’ve cut rations twice since entering the system, but unless we cut them again, we only have enough left for two weeks’ worth, and even then we’re going to be
very
lean and hungry.”

              The Captain nodded.  “The locals are not budging an inch.  They think that we’re to blame for their troubles, or else that if they help us, the pirates might blame them.”

              “Then what can we do?  The Chief says that we cannot leave the system.  And even if we did, we don’t have enough rations to get to the next port.”

              He nodded again.  He pulled out his communicator and flipped it on.  “Corajen, it’s the Captain.  I need you down in the mess hall, please.”

              The wolf woman’s voice came back immediately.  “Roger that, Captain.  On my way.”

              Cookie eyed him suspiciously.  “You have a plan?”

              The Captain shrugged.  “Maybe.  Depends on what we actually have available to use.”

              “Will it work?”

              “No idea.  But we’re running out of options.”  A moment later, Corajen entered the mess hall.  She wore no battle armor, having shed that shortly after the raid, walking around in her standard leather kilt that fell to her knees, a wrist communicator on her left arm, and a battle harness that also doubled as a halter top, barely covering her breasts.  Those of the crew that had fur tended not to wear much in the way of clothing, but Corajen tried to project an air of demureness.  Having one’s breasts uncovered didn’t bother her, or many of the females aboard, but it did have the annoying tendency (most of the time) of distracting the males.  The Captain had never said anything about her clothes, caring more about her ability to do her job than her state of undress, which was something that earned him a number of points in the lupusan’s book. 

As one of the senior security officers aboard
Grania Estelle
, he
did
care about her weapons however.  The battle harness held a stunner pistol under her left armpit, a pulser under her right, and a meter long blade sheathed down her back.  She carried no other weapons, but then, even if stripped of those artificial items, she would not be unarmed.  She was a lupusan, after all, and the inch-long claws on each finger, as well as her very sharp teeth allowed Corajen to be an arsenal unto herself.  The guns and the blade were almost an afterthought.