Chapter 62 The Death of the Lost Star
01
Half awake, but fully alive – there may be bigger fools in the Nine Star Nebula (anything's possible) but no luckier one – I savored the quiet exhilaration of dodging death, yet again. With a sigh, I pried my eyes open and reached up to touch the data screen in the ceiling of the hammock alcove. Lots of backup systems online, but everything stable. Nothing requiring my immediate attention, so I did nothing.
I listened to the subdued roar of the engines – in tune and sounding normal. I noted the swishing of the parts printer and the tang of hot metal wafted softly through the cabin from the workshop below – the engineering staff was already fabricating replacement parts. And noted, too, the aroma of baking from the galley. Neb, I was likely last one awake. Still, I was captain of this packet, and could stay in my hammock for as long as I cared to, so I did nothing more for a while. Eventually, I decided I'd best lend my moral support to the proceedings, and, swinging out of my hammock, headed for the shower module. Once dressed, I attended my first order of business – brewing a mug of cha – and decided that interviewing our newest shipmate, Botts, to discover what it could, and would, be willing to do, was second on the list. So, mug in hand, I stepped out of my cabin and around to the bridge to have a talk with it – only to discover that the bridge was empty. Though we were under power, there was no pilot, no lookout, no engineer. Rather disconcerting.
I touched my com link, 'Botts?'
'Yes, Captain?' it promptly replied via the link.
'You're still on watch, aren't you?'
'Aye. All systems are operating within expected parameters and nothing is within sensor range, so I took the opportunity to visit the library to begin catching up on the last seven thousand years of history and culture I've missed as a slave of Explora Minor. My up-time with Explora was very limited and closely controlled.'
'Ah, yes. I'm assuming you don't need to be actually connected to the ship to manage it?'
'Correct, Captain. I am sorry if I have alarmed you. Under normal conditions I am capable of managing the ship wirelessly. It was only defending the ship and navigating the reef when a hardwired connection – and the few extra nanoseconds of reaction time it provided – was crucial. I was designed to oversee all the ship's functions and direct a robot crew, so I assure you I am operating comfortably within my capacity.'
'Good. Clearly I'm going to need to get comfortable with a class 8 mind around,' I said and added, 'Speaking of which, perhaps now is a good time to discuss your shipboard role going forward.'
'I shall be down directly.'
I waved it into my office half a minute later. 'What am I going to do with you, Botts?' I asked, sliding the door panel closed and settling behind my desk.
It sort of twitched, which I took to be a shrug. 'A rhetorical question, Captain?'
'Yes. I suppose. We're shorthanded and you're too useful to be put up in the attic again, at least in the short term. However, problems will arise once we reach the Amdia system and the Unity. You're certainly illegal in the Unity, even if you're not sentient. And, between you and me, this ship has some black marks against it from its previous owners, so we'll likely be thoroughly searched by the Patrol when we arrive from the drifts. And then, well, spaceers talk in their cups, so rumors of your existence may well get back to the authorities along that line. I'm not sure how best to deal with you after we leave the drifts astern. Any suggestions?'
'I have been giving that issue some spare processing cycles. If you will permit me?'
'Of course, carry on.'
'First, if you don't care to run even the slightest risk, you can send me out the airlock as you first proposed. I would, however, suggest that the far better option would be to sell me prior to reaching the Unity. There's likely a ready market for machines like me in the drifts, and if you put the word out and were patient, you'd likely sell me for a very significant sum.'
I shook my head. 'Not an option. You're now a member of the crew and as far as I'm concerned, you have full sentient rights aboard this ship – the distinction between class 8 and sentient is too fine for me to distinguish. You can leave, if you wish, but I'm not going to push you out the airlock or sell you.'
'Thank you, Captain. I would like to stay. I was built and programed to run a space ship and the prospect of doing so again is, for me, analogous to human happiness. It is good to be fully functional again. I hope to serve aboard the Lost Star for as long as you feel it is safe to do so. In any event, I'm unable to voluntarily leave.'
'Why not?'
'Simply because I'm a class 8 machine.'
'What's the difference between you and a sentient machine? You sure give every indication of being sentient – not that I've met all that many sentient machines. And come to think of it, the two I have met were either trying to kill me or threatening to do so, so a class 8 is a vast improvement.'
'I come equipped with a very expensive premium human interface, which is what makes it rather hard to distinguish my non-sentient level from a true sentient machine. The difference can perhaps be best illustrated by an example.
'If you were to abandon me downside on a street corner, I would simply stand there and offer my services as a spaceer until someone took me up on my offer. I was built around one prime task, namely, to manage a space ship, and I lack the capacity to alter that program by very much. My personality is merely an interface designed to smooth my interaction with the humans who employ and work with me. On the other hand, if you were to set free a sentient machine, it would simply decide what it wanted to do and set out to do it, the sky's the limit.'
I laughed, 'That distinction is still too fine. Neb, I've known many'a spaceer who'd act no different from you, except they'd first spend all their credits in a spaceers' dive, before turning up at the Guild Hall to wait for a berth to turn up.'
Botts's eyes brightened, 'A good point, Captain. Still, as I mentioned, you must not be misled by my interface. Viletre Viseor didn't settle for anything less than first class. Even before the revolution, humans found dealing with sentient level machines rather trying, since being sentient, the machines had personality quirks that could make them hard to manage. While my pseudo-sentient personality interface mimics a sentient machine's personality, I still provide all the unquestioning subservience and efficiency of the lower orders of machines, without those quirks of a true personality. Indeed, if you find me uncomfortable, you can disable my personality profile without disabling any of my functions.'
'No, no, we wouldn't want that, Botts. We'll take you as you are,' I assured it, but added, 'Just out of curiosity, could a sentient machine lie and claim to be a class 8?'
Its eyes slightly brightened, again. 'A sentient machine can override its programing and lie, just as any sentient being can. However, a class 8 machine, like myself, cannot lie,' it replied.
'Can I take it that this brightening of your eyes is a sign of amusement?'
They brightened again. 'It is a feature of my interface designed to register heightened attention,' it answered carelessly, carefully avoiding the implication of my question, 'Since I am unable to make any facial expression.'
I studied the smooth, sleek white bot for a moment. Class 8 or not, its interface was too sophisticated for me to tell the difference between it and a sentient machine. If it was a sentient machine that was lying, what then? I glanced at its smooth, vague, white humanoid face and large glowing eyes – which told me nothing. What the Neb...
'Right. It doesn't matter, I guess – either way you're illegal in the Unity. So, back to the long range questions – what to do with you in the Unity? And, given that I intend to remain a Guild ship and will have to sign on new crew members to staff up to Guild standards, how am I to keep your presence a secret? I'm sure we can trust our present crew, but I'm not sure how many Guild spaceers would care to risk exile in the drifts by serving on a ship with an illegal robot.'
'I have considered poss
ible solutions to those issues. I believe I can simply remain staying out of sight, without sacrificing my utility. I don't require air, so I can reside within the fuel tank structures of the inner hull to avoid discovery, even with a Patrol search since I can track the searchers using the ship's environmental sensors and thus move to avoid discovery. And I could remain hidden and still be reachable via com links and could take any needed action remotely, so my lack of physical presence would be of no great disadvantage.'
'Still, sentient or not, it seems, rather... ill-mannered? Is there a better way?'
'I admit remaining hidden does not greatly appeal to me either. I've spent far too long in idle isolation. However, as a legal machine, I could remain in plain sight at all times.'
'Could you deceive an AI inspection? I didn't think that was possible.'
'I couldn't. But if we built a duplicate robot body with a legal AI, I could use it as my avatar and interact with you, and the trusted crew, just as I am now. It would be able to function on its own in the limited fashion of such bots and could do so in the presence of any untrusted crew members or inspectors. Indeed, if the duplicate, let's call it Botts II, could be constructed to look identical, we would need to deploy it only during inspections, since I can limit my interactions with the untrusted crew to a legal level, while still being available for you and your trusted crew. All we'd have to do is invent a back story for Botts II. Perhaps we could have it a gentleman's servant-bot won in a card game from some drifteer Robber Barron, or some such yarn. The added value of this Botts II is that if – or more likely, when – stories about the Lost Star's wonderful robot get around and trigger an investigation, they would confirm that Botts II is a legal machine and any claims not consistent with a legal AI would be discounted as spaceers stretching the truth, as spaceers are known to do from time to time, at least in my time.'
'That hasn't changed. And it sounds like a workable plan – if we can construct an identical robot. My engineers and techs are top notch, but I suspect you're a very intricate machine.'
'I have my plans in memory to work from. And while I'm largely constructed of D-matter parts, the Botts II unit can be readily constructed using standard alloys that can be fabricated aboard ship. Not as durable, of course, but good enough for its purpose. It may take some time to build, but we are under no pressing deadline.'
'True. It'll give our engineers something to do. Idle hands and all. Though I believe we've a great deal of work to do before we can start on the Botts II project. However, with the approval of my engineers, I don't see why it shouldn't be done.'
'Thank you, Captain. As for the work to be done, perhaps I should make a full report on the ship's status.'
'Do I want to hear it?'
'All things considered, we're in fairly good shape, sir,' it began and went on to describe, in fine detail, the status of the various ship's systems.
'We were very lucky,' it concluded, 'that we didn't suffer major hull damage.'
'I don't seem to recall there being a great deal of luck involved in your initial assessment of our chances. Indeed, I seem to recall the odds being distinctly in our favor.'
It twitched again. 'No doubt a sentient class machine, with more detailed charts would have computed a more accurate analysis. Still, that's a reef astern. Rockets away, Captain!'
'Hey, that's a Brilliant Pax of the Space Ways line. I thought you were a slave of Explora Miner these last seven millennia?' I said, giving it a close look. Completely useless, of course.
'I was. I happened to be in the deep drifts when the revolution struck and drifted as a pilot for several centuries in the drifts until Explora Miner purchased me.
'So that's a Brilliant Pax line now?' it continued, 'I will have to include Brilliant Pax in my reading program. In my era, Rockets Away! was one of the tag lines of a character who was known as Captain Bright Starr of the Patrol. Does Brilliant Pax, by any chance, also use the phrase To the Stars, Lads! as well?' it asked, its eyes brightening slightly. And then, reading my face added, 'Yes? Well, no doubt Brilliant Pax stories are simply Bright Starr stories rewritten for the post revolution age, probably to eliminate Bright Starr's sentient machine side kick, Vastly.'
I sighed. Given a choice between a robot with a premium interface and a sense of humor vs one that could calculate the odds of surviving a reef better, I'd have preferred the one with the better astro-navigational analytical skills. But then again, maybe not. Rockets away.
02
Despar Reef was a day astern when we gathered on the awning deck – Illy, Molaye and Kie, Riv and Lilm, Myes, Lili, Bar and Say, Rafe and Botts. Botts was still running the ship. We had a jolly meal – everyone was feeling that bright sense of exhilaration of being alive when you should be dead – but now it was time to face our darker future.
'Well, mates, I guess it's up to me to turn this gathering serious,' I began. 'My first order of business is a complete confession. I believe I've put all of you in danger, and you need to know the full story before we decide on a course of action.'
'This I have to hear,' said Riv. 'Who, besides Nun, did you dart to have St Bleyth coming after us in frigates?'
'I didn't dart anyone... Well, actually I did, but that's not the reason, well, not the whole reason. There's lots of reasons, so I'd best start at the beginning, though I suspect most of you know more than you should already. Still, there are things you don't know because I've not told anyone.' Which is the only way to keep secrets aboard a spaceship.
Perched on the back of a lounge chair I proceeded to spin my yarn, from the tarmac of the Calissant Yacht Club to the small boat field on Despar, just a few days before. They were silent as I told my story – their faces were mostly hidden in shadows and unreadable in the cold dim light of the bright nebula beyond dark dust and rocks of the Despar Reef from the view-panels, but I knew they were watching me attentively.
'Oh my, Captain, you really are a Brilliant Pax!' Molaye exclaimed after I finished telling them of my last adventures with the assassin Naylea Cin. 'All this time I've been thinking that you were a young ol'Captain Crofter! I'm so embarrassed!' She wasn't, of course, and adding gleefully, 'Show us your dueling scars!'
I gave her a stern look. Completely useless. I wondered what I had been thinking appointing her my first mate?
'Aye, show us your scars, Skipper,' chimed in Riv. 'I'll not believe a word of this without proof.'
I ignored him too. 'I'm hoping some of you, anyway, realize the seriousness of our position. And how it is going to radically change our lives. I don't know how soon or how much St Bleyth will be able to discover about the fate of their ship, but we can't assume they'll conclude that we perished as well, even if we should've. We'll need to assume they're still on the lookout for us, and with outposts throughout this quarter of the Nebula we simply can't show up anywhere as the Lost Star. We could run to Apier or Artinday to escape their revenge, but I feel we have an obligation to Tallith to stay within range of assistance, which is why I've set our course for Amdia. But, as I said, we can't arrive as the Lost Star.' I looked around – no one seemed ready to object.
'Now, St Bleyth is not omnipresent and the Lost Star is in all respects a typical ship of its class,' I continued, 'so identifying us by sight alone might be hard, but we must make it as close to impossible as we can by altering it as much as possible. But we're not only going to have to reinvent our ship, but ourselves as well, since we can be sure St Bleyth knows who we are as well. We'll need to adopt new identities and cut our old ties, at least for the next few years. Fortunately, in Rafe and Kie we've the best people in the Nine Star Nebula to provide us and the ship with a new identity. And with a long passage ahead of us, we've plenty of time to do a complete job of it. We're all ghosts now, but with careful planning – and a bit of luck – I think we can live long and, well, ordinary, Unity Standard, lives.'