Humans Don't Hibernate [Part 18/?] (Patreon)

I had expected silence to suddenly blanket our conversation as soon as I was done running through my life’s story. I waited in bated breath for what I felt was the inevitable flurry of emotional back and forths that had come to dominate the majority of our conversations over the past few days. I steadied myself for the wrench in the works to mangle what had up to this point been the start of a genuinely fruitful conversation.

Yet these concerns never came to pass.

What instead happened was decidedly unexpected, but felt just as visceral as hours of conversation condensed into one, simple, gesture. One that I didn’t even know I needed.

The AI had been sparse on initiating acts of physical affection, indeed, it was clear that both of us held such gestures in sparing regard. Whether it was inherent to who we were or the result of our respective experiences, it was in these small moments that the benefits of reserving such gestures truly shone through. As what was effectively as simple as an arm wrapping around my shoulders alleviated any lingering anxieties I had.

“You know Lysara. You may be a bad Vanaran, but I’d say you make a pretty darn good human.” The AI spoke with a certainty and an amicability I hadn’t yet heard. “And I mean that as the highest compliment I can give you.”

I nodded curtly at that, as Vir seemed to have taken it as a sign to continue. “It’s difficult for me to really say this, I feel like it’s a bit sacrilegious to do so given the baggage I have with the Enduring Justice, but I’m gonna spit it out regardless. Lysara, the feeling’s mutual. I’ve never felt as alive as I am now, not back on the Enduring Justice, not even during the Great Civil War of the 9 Virtual Constructs, or anywhere else in between. There’s just something about all of this, the adventure, the freedom, all of it that’s just so liberating. However, that's beside the point. I honestly, and sincerely, appreciate everything you’ve shared with me. I know it must be difficult to open up like this, heck, I thought human social constructs were difficult, but you Vanarans seem to have taken it to a whole other level.” Vir chuckled lightly.

“There’s a lot to unpack here. But I want to do it without the bells and whistles that comes with being an AI. I could just as easily process through all of this, as I do when mapping out targeting solutions and stellar telemetries, but that wouldn’t be right. I reserve that for my ship-based duties, my responsibilities as a ship overseer.  This… everything we’ve discussed up to this point? I want to take it all in, not as an AI advisor or a mission strategist, but as a friend. And I… I…” The AI seemed genuinely, emotionally conflicted, as he took a moment to gather himself. Clearly adamant on using whatever systems he had dedicated to this interaction, his grip on my shoulder loosened.

“I’m beyond sorry that you had to go through a life that you haven’t truly lived. Where you had to go through the motions of living, without actually living. A life that sounds more like a set of parameters to be fulfilled, rather than a destiny and a fate to be carved out by your own two hands.” The AI paused at this point, his eyes seemingly gauging my reaction as I remained tacitly neutral, simply waiting for him to finish. “I know I could’ve phrased that better, I know that saying sorry can come across as a cop out, or worse, an empty platitude. But I want you to hear it as unfiltered as possible. I’m not a psychologist, I don’t even have the engrams or protocols for it, so what you’re hearing are my reactions, unfiltered.”

I should have found it difficult to emote, let alone process, everything that I was feeling up to this point. Years of putting up barrier upon social barrier should have led me to maintain that tacit neutrality that was for all intents and purposes my natural state. Yet now, as I stare back at the AI’s ‘face’, I was shocked at how easily my emotions broke through my natural facade, as evidenced by the small, remorseful smile forming at the edges of my face.

“Maybe this could be the start to something new?” Vir continued, as he gestured across the room. “I know this isn’t the most ideal of circumstances, let alone the best of places for it… and I know it might sound egocentric of me to say, but at least in some bizarre way, maybe this could be that new start you needed? With me by your side?” The AI let out a nervous chuckle toward the end of that proposition as an equally anxious expression found itself plastered across his faceplate. “That is, if you’d have me of course. No pressure or anything, I’m just your pilot, navigator, engineer, and weapons officer after all.” Vir quickly added, attempting to feign that half-jocular demeanor that was clearly an attempt to put up something of a distance between himself and his emotions.

In my years of existence I could count perhaps only a handful of times that another party had ever reached out a hand in a genuine desire for friendship. Out of those few times, perhaps only a handful had done so whilst looking at me, straight in the eyes, unbothered by the trappings of Vanaran society. Now, for the very first time, perhaps since Elijah’s interactions, I felt something indescribable welling within me. A desire to reach out a hand in genuine camaraderie and friendship.

A desire to bridge the gap for the first time in a long time.

“Yeah… yeah!” I managed out. “I think… I think I’d like that Vir.” I reached my own arm out, placing my hand on the AI’s shoulder. “I think I will take you up on that offer.” A smile had fully formed on the edges of my lips as I let out a genuine chuckle. “I think I’d like that a lot, Vir.”

=====

It had been a few hours after that entire exchange. Vir had mentioned that the jump we made was done using the ship’s warp drive capabilities, instead of the faster, more capable hyperdrive or jump drive systems. It was because of this that we’d traveled, what in his words were: a scant few hundred light years in a few hours. Something that was still leagues beyond any Vanaran warp drive, but I digress

When I inquired as to why we’d use the least capable drive out of the three, the answer was remarkably simple: the ship’s minifactury had the capabilities to reproduce any component required to fix a damaged or heavily strained warp drive and its associated systems. It however, did not have the capabilities to reproduce the more complex, more specialized systems that comprised a majority of the latter two drives. As a result, it would be more prudent to use the systems that we could repair, and save the latter two for when speed was a priority. The jump out of the system we were in wasn’t a direct route to the second satellite after all. Moreso, it was a jump into dark space so that we could take stock of our situation and regain our bearings.

Now that we were both mentally and emotionally on the same page, it was time to begin the lengthy process of doing the same for our tactics and strategy.

So with a surprisingly decent meal behind me, and a couple more coats of paint applied to Vir’s platform, we both arrived on the bridge once again to continue our discussions.

“How was lunch?” Vir inquired, having arrived on the bridge perhaps a few seconds prior to me, taking his usual position behind the foot of the tactical table.

“I have to say, for using recipes from a Vanaran encyclopedia hundreds of thousands of years old, and cooking with shelf-stable ingredients thousands of years well into their intended shelf life, it was one of the best meals I’ve had.” I answered with a degree of genuine appreciation.

“Yeah, that checks out, the auto-chefs were a godsend back in my era. The humans onboard wouldn’t settle for anything second-rate, so the auto-chefs were your only next best bet. From what I’ve heard, they were only second to a Michelin star chef… provided that it was programmed by one, of course.” Vir rattled away as I settled myself into my seat rights across from him.

“So, what’s the situation so far?” I began, steering the AI back on track before he went off into another one of his many tangents. The man was eager to unload all of the memories he gathered on that first satellite, and it showed.

“Alright, immediate concerns first: we’ve dropped out of warp and scanners show no signs of Interloper activity for at least 50 AUs in any direction.” Vir began, bringing up a local map of quite literally, nothing for tens of AUs all around. “Scanners also show that there are no signs of any warp, hyperdrive, or jumpdrive activity behind us, or any spatial anomalies that hint to it, so we’re definitely in the clear following our speedy escape from that system.”

I let out a breath of relief as the AI simply grinned, very much still satisfied at himself for pulling off that death defying exit.

“Moving on to housekeeping, we’re looking at nominal on all systems except for weapons and targeting. The Mark IX LASER focusing array, our only main gun at the moment, can barely even blind-fire now given its sensors and optics were knocked out during the battle. Compensation using other non-specialized sensors puts every single firing solution at about 300 seconds between every shot, even with an AI at the helm. Our only other functional weapon systems, the Mars V kinetic batteries, all seemed to have survived but are in desperate need of recalibrations. I suggest we do a full refit of their barrels and firing mechanisms, and while we’re at it, the optics for the Mark IX LASER focusing array as well, given that’s our only working main weapon as it stands.” The AI’s tone shifted back to something more resembling our first few interactions. It was colder, more analytical, but was fitting given the topics being discussed.

“What about the hull breach the ship’s computers were going on about during the battle? Deck 9 was it?” I spoke up, realizing to my horror, that we hadn’t even begun to address the fact that an entire deck was probably out of commission, and could be compromising the entire vessel’s integrity as we speak…

“I was about to get to that. Deck 9 is breached. But only the main hallway, and a few rooms. Yeah, it’s a huge gaping hole right now, but, the way most human ships are built, this shouldn’t compromise our structural integrity in the slightest.”

“What?” I snapped back in disbelief.

“Well, all human ships are built more like… legos. No, scratch that, horrible analogy. It’s built more like the frame of a space elevator or an orbital ring. You have the main skeleton, a frame if you will, that’s built like a honeycomb crossed with a suspension bridge. Vital systems like the engineering bay, life support bay, medical bay, computer bay, shield bay, and the secondary navigation array, are all built inside of it. You might have noticed how the halls seem to go around a cluster of rooms in the middle of the ship, yes? That’s because most of the ship is built around this vital hub, and every deck that isn’t part of this vital core is literally slid into place around yet another honeycomb frame the same way cruise cabins are slotted into old Earth cruise ships. So even if our ship ended up looking like swiss cheese, as long as our engines and navigation systems aren’t compromised, we can keep on fighting like nothing’s happened. That’s why I wasn’t too worried about Deck 9, even if it’s now completely inaccessible.” Vir explained in a surprisingly casual tone, accompanied by what I could only describe as a stunning display of schematics brought to life, as I saw the tactical table in front of us shifting to display the inner workings of the ship, as each deck was taken apart and a honey-comb like structure was revealed, alongside the small, cramped ‘bays’ that made up its central mass.

“Wait, but the engines and navigation systems aren’t inside of the central cluster?” I shot back.

“I wish they were, but it’s physically impossible to put engines inside of the ship you’re trying to propel.” Vir cocked his head in reply. “Navigation systems also need exposure to the vacuum of space to… you know, see where it’s going. So those are our Achilles heel. Otherwise, feel free to shoot up the rest of the ship.” Vir chuckled lightly, before raising both hands in a display of feigned surrender. “Don’t do that though, I would very much prefer my body to be intact before we’re done with this mission.”

It was at that moment that the AI seemed to pause, taking an uncharacteristically long time to seemingly think about what just left his mouth, as he stared at me, before brushing past whatever thought it was he had welling within.

“Anyways, moving on, I’d suggest we take the time to find some mineral-rich asteroid field so that we can get the minifactury up to full production. We do have some raw materials to start off with, but it’s just enough to repair either our main gun and its sensors, or the 5 secondary kinetic guns we have. So, that’s a decision we have to make now-”

“Main gun.” I answered promptly, and without hesitation.

“Alright, I was 50/50 on that so, main gun it is. Might I ask why, Lysara?” Vir chirped back.

“Simple. I saw how ineffective the secondaries are against even the smaller Interloper ships. And should we encounter something bigger? It’d be completely useless. Better to have a gun that can kill, than 5 that are just there for show and distractions.” I once more answered without a second’s thought, as Vir seemed to nod in approval. “Very well, we should get that repaired in about half a day. Right, moving onto mission-sensitive matters?”

“Proceed.” I nodded.

“We’re about 1200 light years away from the second satellite: README_2. If we use the jumpdrive we can get there in a similar timeframe to when we traveled between your hibernation hub and README_1, 34 seconds. However, if we choose to use hyperspace instead, we’re looking at about half a day’s worth of travel.”

“What’s the issue behind using the jumpdrive again?”

“Well, functionally speaking, its intended use is intergalactic travel. It tunnels wormholes between two points in space, cutting any travel time down to approximately 34 seconds. The issue is it isn’t meant to be used as your primary workhorse. So overuse could result in it breaking down or malfunctioning. Something we can’t afford right now, especially if we want to leave this galaxy.” Vir explained, once again with the aid of a flurry of holographic projections, this time displaying the fundamentally distinct principles between the three drives. As the warp drive demonstration showed the ship tunneling through space in a bubble, the hyperspace drive showing the ship leaving that space entirely and tunneling parallel to it, and the jump drive simply tunneling a hole into space itself.

I attempted to hide my shock at the sheer scale of human technological advancement before moving on to address the situation.

“It’s an opportunity cost situation here, Vir.” I sighed. “How likely is it that the Interlopers are going to discover this satellite first? How likely is it that we’ll use this drive again, after this? How much of a risk is leaving the satellite unattended for 12 hours worth? Actually, tell me Vir, what does protocol and manufacturing specs say? How many times can it be used between servicing and maintenance?”

“Three.” The AI replied plainly.

“W-what?”

“One to enter another galaxy. Two for a return trip. And three for an emergency jump in case of unforeseen circumstances. We’ve burned through one already, reaching the first satellite. I… that’s my fault, I was too eager to reach it, I couldn’t wait and I-”

“It’s fine, Vir, it’s fine.” I quickly shot down the AI’s looming anxiety. “We were both disoriented and needed answers. I bet you, anyone else in our situation would’ve done the same.” I answered with a reassuring smile, my headfrills relaxing against my forehead almost instinctively.

“Right… Thanks for that, Lysara.” The AI nodded, shooting me a small wink and a smile as we moved forward with the discussion. “So, yeah, we theoretically have 2 jumps left.” The AI concluded. “But the fact is, that’s for ideal conditions, so we might be able to squeeze more out of it. But then again given how long this ship was left abandoned, it could be less.” The AI’s platform shrugged. “It’s literally a wild card.”

I nodded warily at this as I leaned back against the ergonomically frustrating seat. The situation was far from straight forward, and there was not a single decision that could be made here that was an educated one. It was pure risk and return, almost a pure gamble given what was at stake and what tools we had at our disposal.

“I think-”

“Wait, hold up, something’s happening.” The AI spoke as a map of the local sector was brought up. The system we just exited from was marked in turquoise, and the rest of the map was colored in blue aside from our intended destination, marked in purple. A purple that now fluctuated and exuded what seemed to be three semicircles echoing out from a central point. “README_2 is broadcasting.” Vir announced, his voice tinged with concern as I felt as if a lead weight had suddenly manifested inside my gut.

“I thought you said its transponders were malfunctioning-”

“I did. But now it isn’t… and there’s something else.”

The AI quickly brought up another screen, one that displayed lines upon lines of code that were quickly translated into legible script which I could discern.

UNAUTHORIZED MAINTENANCE LOGGED: USER_UNSAS_ENDLESSTRANSGRESSION.

“UNSAS?” I parroted.

“It’s a prefix. United Nations Science Advisory Ship. The same organization Mitchel belonged to. I’ve never heard of the naming convention Endless Transgression ever being used though.” Vir reported back in no uncertain terms as the both of us stared at each other with a renewed sense of resolve, drenched with an undeniable tinge of apprehension.

A flurry of thoughts, concerns, and theories abounded but were all quickly shot down as I focused on a decision that had to be made now.

“Vir. Let’s use the jump drive.” I announced, as I felt the ship lurching forward, echoing the same sensations as that first jump we made.

“Already on it. Jumping in 3… 2…”