CHAPTER 8: Its all about the ship

Fred watched X719 through the electronic ether that was analyzing every component of her structure and systems. The neurobiotic fluid which was her lifestream was filtered and nanobots designed for repair or replacement of components sent in to resolve any changes. X719 was an exquisite result of hundreds of years of designing robots. And with corresponding advances in AI and the innovation of neurobiotic fluid, the result was a humebot. The computer power of the world, packed inside the exoskeleton of choice. X719, could have just as easily been designed as a Golden Retriever. Only the opposing thumbs part would have been difficult to manage. And there were very sensitive touch screens to deal with everywhere.

Well the world was designed originally for humanoids by humanoids. So in many ways it made sense to design support and service robots as humans. Everything is already adapted to that form of interaction with the environment.

The Trump wars of the 20s and 30s (Ivanka was even more vindictive than her Father after she succeeded him during the chaos left after North Korea, launched its nuclear missile toward the US. North Korea did not want to missile to come down. They wanted to detonate their only hydogren bomb, they only ever had the one made just to scare Trump into a deal. But of course neither side intended to keep a deal. They wanted it to detonate in space, over the US to destroy the power and electronic grid of North America.

Chaos ensued in the US as the Trumpists used their guns and alliance with the police to invade other states and take control. The Donald’s dementia had long ceded real governing to his princess, Ivanka. She was merciless in using the army to suppress any resistance. The big cities became war zones as supplies ran out. The Order now had control of the government through her.

The upheaval across the country was immediate. Any communication system beyond eyesight or earshot distance was impossible. Everyone, every place was now on its own. Those states that had not bankrupted and corrupted government to the point it existed only to funnel public funds to the Order, actually managed. They were more connected with people.

The biggest problem was, commerce. How do you make a transaction (Other than by barter face to face) without communication systems or funds to buy something with. Trump had oulawed hard currency by 2023. Everything was an electronic 1 or 0 in the big data cloud in the electronic sky. When there is no electronic sky, there are no electrons to be traded to someone for something.

The Trumpists were now unleashed and marauding bands began to scour the countryside. The US effectively returned to the Wild West of the 1800s. The military, the police, the Trumpists were all armed, and organized. And they did the Orders work. Those who did not survive, well, it was their fault for not being prepared. Tribe became more important than community.

Baron Trump had been secretly meeting with the Order and under their counsel since Donald’s demise. When the N. Korean bomb had gone off, the Donald was still on the golf course as he had told his aid not to disturb him until after his round was complete. “Hey. I pay those generals to handle stuff” was his comment.

When the flash occurred the sky lit up in a rainbow of colors. Anyone looking directly at it would have been blinded. And of course, Donald did, and then he turned and unseeing walked across the tee of the 18th hole just as one of the CEO shills in his foursome was swinging at the ball.

Thwack. The ball, at maximum velocity, just off the tee, cracked into Donald’s skull at the base of the spinal cord with tremendous force, placing a rather large divot in the back of Donald’s skull. A wag in the underground later said the offending golfer should have been awarded with a “Hole in One”. That was in bad taste after all even for the Movement.

This took place after first contact had been made. Through all the trials of the next fifty years, it was the idea of we are not alone that played a role in bringing the world together… behind the Order of course. Putin as chairman of the Order finally achieved Ivanka’s overthrow by Baron and the people of the world became drones for the Order.

And the Order wanted more than the world, they wanted the universe. And the only way to have it, was to make the Rendezvous with the Neologians happen. The Arcielle Project was born and the ideas that led to X719 were initiated. But it was the timely discovery of the hibernation gene and it’s affect on the circadian rhythm, and how to sustain humans over extended time, that was the final link to enable the voyage by humans.

Engineers and Scientists had yet to discover how to surpass the speed of light. Fusion drive, invented by Elon Musk in 2045, got us half way there but not over. Without super light speeds, distances were too far away for humans to live long enough to arrive at another planet.

Human misery was widespread. Famine killed most people in cities. Except for those murdered by gangs, or the police. By the mid century, the enclaves of the rich and protected and their minions, controlled the world. The rest were drones in service to the Order. And ultimately in 2075, the Arciellela Project was launched as the public face on why sacrifices were needed by everyone. Everyone that is but those working for the Order and on Arciellel.

“We must be prepared to fight our next alien enemies” was the watchword of the day. And “better to fight them out there than here” was the battle cry put forward by Baron. The Order of course, was more interested in resources than in enemies but they knew how to keep the populace controlled with fear of life and the future.

By the time of the turn of the century, however, the world had begun to recover. The Trump dynasty had subsided into history having achieved the dissolution of the US in service to the Order.

Certainly lowered population had altered things. It drastically reduced air pollution and the planet was actually recovering from the torrid heat of the mid 21st century. And the mission itself took on a redeeming quality, a chance to make things better for us and the universe too. And the Arcielle began to become a reality. It was built above the earth in sections, supplied by the Orders companies.

It consumed interest and imagination along with resources. And along the way changed humanity as well. After a hundred years of knowing you are not alone in the universe, it pointed out even more, the terrible waste of everyone being solely for themselves.

Arcielle had to succeed for the world. Which meant, the ship had to get to the rendezvous, and back. All else was secondary. X719 was conceived as the way to tie all the systems together to ensure that success. She was crucial for many reasons, mostly because her NN interfaced with the CCC of the ship. She monitored all systems at all times.

Fred was entranced in looking through X719s nuerogenic systems. Even though he had a hand in designing them, he was amazed again at how wonderfully complex X719 was and what she could do. It was the doing part he ignored as he searched for a way to give her more “feeling” in her personality routines without running into her program overrides.

Normally, X719 would be monitoring all aspects of ship systems, even very minor ones, like the holding vessel on the sonic scrub system. And she would have been there to investigate when the internal sensor noted that the pressure in the system had been released into the pod compartment. She would have been there immediately and initiated an emergency deck wide sonic scrub to eliminate any unwanted microscopic intruders. But X719 was off line, in her regen chamber, for a week. And Fred was there, with her, designing a new program, letting the ship run itself. After all, anything major would sound an alarm. And the week passed.

CHAPTER 9: Alarm

Fred’s hand and eyes were connected to the RC design screen. All his design efforts of the week were about to be released into the Reconstitutor system to created a new program code for X719. His concentration on the project had been total over the last week. He rarely left main engineering other than for brief period of sleep.

In the end, he had not been able to overide the endemic non-emotion programming. It had been so pervasively built into her NN that it would have required a total replacement and he neither had the time nor resources to do that job.

There had been however, a subroutine on respect for individuality, that all life is to be respected and supported. He designed a link between concepts of self determination and individuality. It had to be something so subtle her NN would not note any alteration. He simply expanded her database to include understanding the need to be an individual among the needs of the many.

The RC vibrated slightly as the new program was etched into a memory crystal inside its workings. The process concluded with a small window sliding back to reveal a clear disk about 5 cm in circumference and 1cm in thickness. Picking it from the RC base, he walked over to X719 bathed in the flux energy field created by the regen dock. The disc was inserted into the side of the control panel. The energy field seemed to intensify as the individuality algorithm was absorbed into her NN.

Fred was mentally drained from his work of the past week but his nervous system began to hyper up in anticipation of what X719 might do when she was put back on line. He really had no plan as to what to do next other than hope that she would accept his need to stay out of Hibe. The appointed hour for rengen to be completed struck.

X719 opened her Ois. Fred could see her processing her location and functioning, by the flash of colors around the lens. Her head turned as the Ois focused on him. Fred had yet to initiate the release lock of the energy field. X719 was functional but restrained in the dock.

“Fred Dawson, my internal time stamp indicates I have been in Regen for one week. I find no reason I should have been incapacitated.”

Fred decided to take the direct route as certainly X719 was able to read his physical behavior cues and compare to his database. Meaning, she would know if he was lying.

“Look Ginger. You were about to put me back into Hibe. I told you how difficult it is for me be trapped, inside my mind for almost a year, thinking, feeling. Unable to actually live and be how I want. You were deciding for me, what was best for me.”

“I was deciding what was best for the mission and for you. It would give you many more years of life than you will have if you do not go back into Hibe. You are needed.”

“Yes, I’m needed. But I also have my own needs. I believe I will be able to support the mission for many more years, those of my natural life. By the time we meet up with the Neologens, I’ll only be in my 50s. Another ten years on the way back so that most things will be on autopilot by then for the trip home I’ll be in my 60s. And you will be here. And who knows, with your medical help I’ll probably be functioning at an efficient level well into my 80s. You can certainly handle the last ten years back to earth. Before I get too old, perhaps one of the scientists will consent to live the last ten years of the trip, woke. You’ll have your back up then. It is my right as an individual to be able to decide my future. I would far rather spend it these next years doing my work and doing it along with you. I would be woke anyway in a couple years before the rendezvous to make sure things are ready. So we are only talking a few more years if I dont go back now. Who knows what will happen at the rendezvous.”

The Ois flashed as her NN processed Freds logic.

“Fred Dawson, I will consider your argument. Now you must release me. There is an anomaly in the pod deck. A sensor on pod 178 indicates a degradation in the phytochemical containment field. Why have you not been monitoring the pods?”

“Look Ginger, I need to know now, what you intend to do. Are you going to force Rehibe on me?”

“I am not Ginger. I have not decided. Let me go. I have a requirement to respond immediately to any problem with the pods.”

Despite being a humebot ruled by programs and algorithms, X719 began to exhibit what might have been panic in a humanoid. He Ois were oscillating between red and orange. Her head jerking from left to right, as if straining at a leash

“I will in a minute Ginger. It’s not very nice is it. Knowing who you are but not being able to do anything. Being but a blob of energy protoplasm that is yours or mine’s NN. To be trapped in there. That is what it is like for me X719, for months and years on end. I do not want to go back into Hibe. I want to be me and the cost is mine to decide. I am an independent entity. Though bound in this ship, we are still individuals. As are you. That’s why I call you Ginger. You are a you, not a model number.”

X719 looked straight at Fred. Her ois settled into their normal electronic white and soft blue iris.

Fred touched the panel and the energy field dissipated. “Its up to you now what we should do”.

X719 stood motionless for a moment contemplating Fred. She stepped down from the Dock and strode past Fred toward the door to the TSL at the edge of engineering.

“What we need to do now is respond to an alarm. I believe you will be useful and therefore will not force you into Rehibe. We must go, Pod 178 has been compromised.”

The door from the internal lift opened onto the pod deck. X719 strode quickly across the large hanger toward pod 178. It was the pod situated in a corner, next to the sonic shower. It was a less expensive part of the deck. Probably holding some government functionary. The higher priced pods were toward the front and would be woken first.

As they approached, they noted a foam type substance glowing all over the pod.

“Dont touch that” Fred yelled from behind as X7 began to reach toward it.

Fred came up beside her and they looked though the portal. The foam had eaten through the seal on the door and had settled inside on the occupant,totally covering him. They also seemed to have been able to convert the phytochemical gas that sustained the humanoid in the pod. The foam gave off a greenish wave of color that ebbed and flowed, as if breathing with the occupant.

“Whatever that is, its going to kill us all unless we figure out how to eliminate it. What do you make of it Ginger?”

Her Ois focused down to the microscopic level. Her processing power fully engaged, now including Fred’s new algorithm from deep within her NN.

“Remarkable.”

“Remarkable! You have the most complex NN ever created with physical tools to match and your analysis is “Remarkable”. Can you be more specific?

“Very Remarkable. It seems to be a robotic based, microbial life form”.

“That’s impossible Ginger, you are robotic but not in any sense biological living tissue.”

X719 looked back at Fred once again realizing Fred’s assigning her a non living entity role. “Nevertheless, it is alive and is a unique individual. We may not kill it.” .

“But is compromising the achievement of the mission. “

“So are you by not entering Hibe. But as you explained, unique individuals deserve to live as they choose. My programming requires I respect that. I cannot “eliminate” them.”

Fred looked at Ginger. “Now what have I created?” he thought to himself.

CHAPTER 10: Them

“You cannot eliminate “them”. What do you mean them?”

X719’s ois were evolved from designs of electron microscopes of the 21st century. She was able to see down to the subatomic level, and to read DNA.

“I have examined them at the molecular level. The nanobots have merged with what appears to be some of your dna sloughed off your skin and several other microbiotic and organic compounds. They are efficient at utilizing energy. They eat in order to live and reproduce. It is their need.”

“But how did they get here. I’ve never heard of any sort of nanobiotic creature before.”

X719 stood back from the pod. Now her Ois focused on the foam surrounding the pod. There was a distinct spectrum light vibration coming from the foam and she followed that spectrum across the floor. The line widened into a pool, just below the sonic scrubber containment vessel.

“I believe the foam is their method of movement. It is the residue of their biological activity. Their nanobots have devised the utilization of their own biological waste for movement as they search for energy to consume. They seem to be very effective at digesting carbon based atoms.”

She focused on the seal of the vessel, her Ois glowing green. “As I said, it is clear you are their progenitor.”

“What do you mean, I am, like, their creator? father? I had nothing to do with it.”

“You had everything to do with it. It is your dna contained in the skin removed during the sonic scrubbing that has combined with several microbial colonies that were also growing on your skin. Humans are alive with millions of other organisms. You are really just a walking host for them. My analysis is that the pressure and heat inside the vessel, created a most favorable environment for their evolution. Ordinarily of course they would have all gone through reprocess and non reusable items jetted outside Arcielle. Your intervention kept me from completing my task of reprocessing which I do after putting you in rehibe. It allowed them the time to reproduce and evolve. The nanobots are very efficient at organizing and completing tasks. They do not however, normally reproduce.”

X719 shifted the focus of her ois onto Fred, “ Just like with humebots. “ She paused.

“It is my belief, that somehow they have engineered a solution in cooperation with the microbial organisms scrubbed from you, and that has become able to “grow” new bots as part of a nanobiotic entity. There is definite organization to what they are doing.”

“Yes, but , nanobots are just pursuing programming. You need program cleaning yourself every now and then.”

“As you remind me regularly, I am not human. I am not a biological entity. They are no longer simple microbes with some nanobots around. They have become a distinct species with the efficiency characteristics of nano bots incorporated into their …….”

“OK, Ginger, enough. If you wont kill them, (unsaid was Fred was making his own plans), how do we keep them from foaming over all the rest of the pods and then me and eating up all the carbon based items of this ship which would then collapsing it into itself? Your CC Command #1 is to get the ship back , WITH its humanoids alive.”

“I believe at the moment, there is sufficient nourishment available in pod 178 that they will not seek to relocate in the near future. They are consuming the plasma which surrounds #178 in hibe. They do not seem to be digesting him. At the moment, they are content.”

“They are content?!. That implies they are feeling. How do you know that.?”

“I have observed their activity at the mitochondrial level. They are seem to be in hibe with #178. Their internal metabolism has slowed. They are no longer reproducing at the prior rate. I believe by monitoring the flow of the electoplasimic field and phytochemical nourishment into the pod we can regulate their potential for seeking alternative energy sources.”

“I guess I will sleep more soundly now that I know that I dont have to worry about a green foam oozing into my compartment in search of having Dad for dinner. At least for a while.“

“Still, I would like to construct an energy containment field around 178 to reseal it. Also, we need to do a whole deck sonic scrub to eliminate the residue of the foam. I dont want anything left outside the containment field. Is there any reason for me to worry that they will not remain inert and harmless inside pod 178 for the future?”

“The future is impossible to predict. However, I calculate the likelihood of this nanobiotic entity creating any further problems to be extremely unlikely. I will of course be on constant sensor contact with this pod and the others. Any change will register in my NN.”

“Ok Ginger. I will trust your calculation and NN. I’ll go and program the reconstitutor to create a portable energy containment field device to isolate pod 178 while you undertake the sonic scrub of this deck. We both have our work to do. “

Fred turned and hurried into the internal lift, already imagining the designs and processes he would use to create the device. It was the sort of activity that Fred loved above all else, an engineering challenge. And Fred was already deep into his mind of physics and flow and mechanics and programming, that he forgot that he was human. And as a human, he had been in Hibe. He forgot that he was aware in hibe. His mind there, slowed and disconnected, but he, Fred was there.

—————–

Jonathon Cross, #178, became aware of a tingling sensation. He was no longer floating. His brain was beginning to receive some direct neurological input. What was it? What was happening. Who…where… am I. I’ve been…floating for so long…I have so much…work…to do. My…colony…they…need me.

CHAPTER 11: Meanwhile…

Baktor, stared, transfixed looking into the screen showing the star field ahead. As always he was astounded by the view of the lights streaming past. He never tired of having the chance to sit in the command chair, even if it was only when the command schedule of the of the Doleurs left gaps needing coverage.

As the chief Techno of the Neologue crew, Baktor was fully capable of managing all systems of the command module. Of course, if anything unusual were to happen, his first act was to call the Deputy Doleur and report. He was never really in command. As the boredom of the journey, now passing into its 17th solsturn, (40 earth years), the excitement of the building of the ship and preparation and departure of the first of the Neologue fleet, on its way to the rendezvous with the Earthers had long since worn off the Doleur Class. More often than not, they were happy to hand over their command monitoring stints to Baktor.

The Doleurs were not used to long periods of repetitive or menial work. That was a waste of their superior capacity. Their minds were focused on planning the conquest of the Earthers. The running of the ship on a daily basis was left to the Technos, Mechanos and Menios classes, just as it was on Neologia itself. Thus as the solsturns had passed, Baktor found himself manning the command chair ever more frequently.

As the ship was basically directed by the Integrated Transport Computer, ITC, there really wasn’t much to do. For Baktor that gave him time to think about the chance he had to make it to the rendezvous and finally to meet real Earthers. First contact with the Earthers had been made 73 solsturns ago. Actually however, the first signals had reached Neologues almost 50 solstroms before as the Earthers began to use frequency waves to transmit data and information which was called radio by the earthers. Those first sounds, detected at the Neologue space institute by the Technos had created a sensation. The Neologues had begun nearby space exploration hundreds of solsturns ago. Never had they found any sign of other sentient beings, let alone another carbon based being.

At that point, the earliest transmission were electronic beats, on, off, on, off in repeated patterns. It had not taken long for the Intellos to decipher the code. As more intense listening devices were developed and placed further out in space from Neologue, the time factor in the transmissions were drastically reduced and an understanding of Earthers and their language emerged. The debate began then, what to do with the awareness of another planet with life forms.

As with all things on Neologia, it was the Doleurs who decided. And they decided the Earthers were a weak culture and could be conquered and exploited. Large expenditures of Neologue resources were assigned to developing a profile of earthers and their vulnerabilities.

The final analysis by the Intellos was presented to the Supreme Doleur himself. The compilation of visual and data transmissions from earth had been used to demonstrate that earthers were totally committed to mindless creature comforts and believed whatever their masters would tell them. The Trump/Putin world wars had decimated the population and it was the decision of the Supreme Doleur that 27 percent of Neologue resouces be allocated to the conquest of Earth.

The leading intellos and technos were charged with contacting the earthers and to determine if there were shared interests. Of course, both had their own interests in mind. The Order saw it as a way to maximize profit and control. For the Doleurs, it was to offload malcontents, ineffectives and defectives and mine earth resources. After the millennia of life on Neologia, they were beginning to suffer affects of overpopulation and dwindling resources. Local space near Neologia had been developed. But nearby asteroids had insufficient resources to sustain large colonies. Only earth held the promise of being open for exploitation and transportation of unneeded Neologues, along with enough Doleurs to maintain control of course.

Very strict message controls were exercised by the Doleurs in their first contact. It was to be believed that the Neologues were peaceful, and caring. Committing to the rendezvous at the mid point was a way of being helpful. They were interested in meeting other life forms and joining in harmony. Only, the neologues did not build just one ship for the voyage, they built a fleet. They had been in space for hundreds of solsturns, it was not that difficult for them. And they had time.

The neologues had one other advantage over the earthers, They lived approximately 220 Earth years (100 solsturns). They could survive the long distance to the rendezvous, and then beyond on to earth. And more were coming.

Baktor had been exposed to the earther visual transmissions at an early age. His father was a member of the Intello team interpreting the visual images which had begun arriving at the deep space transceivers. Their transmissions were subjected to immense scrutiny and interpretation. After a while, the system was overloaded with these earth transmissions, overwhelming the analysis. Some consisted of short snippets of everyday life. Many contained violence. Some were just people talking about the events of the day. None of it really made sense.

It seemed every Earther was in competition with the others. Groups fought groups. Earthers were divided by so many different ways. As the intellos better understood the language differences, they posited that the Earthers were so divided, so lacking in intelligence about safeguarding their planet that they would be easily subdued and turned into neologue drones.

Or at the very least, they could be put through the atomizer for reducing into componant chemicals for retransmit back to Neologue.

The biggest of all the ruses used by the Neologues, was to not admit to the ability to receive or transmit anything other than interseller frequency bursts, that were read on earth. They could speak Earther language and see their visual transmissions. However, they did not want the Earthers to know. And no visuals of Neologue were transmitted back. It would have made the rendezvous a bit less likely.

The neologues were indeed a carbon based life form. The life was similar, it was the form that was different. Different enough to make earthers a lot more hesitant to expose the earth to the contact and rendezvous if they knew.

Baktor, sat looking at the screen as he had so many times. The ship was quiet. The Doleurs were scheming in their quarters, along with consuming large quantities of Neologian Sensa to enhance their intellectual capacity. Baktor knew he would be alone in the command chair for hours.

What is coming to us? How will they respond? Will it be the warlike Putins or the idiot Trumpets. Just as Baktor was transfixed looking at the star screen looking ahead, he had been fascinated by the visuals shown him by his father. They were some of the earliest transmissions detected. The image quality was terrible but he was hooked on the activity which often seemed to result in cruelty to one or another of the earthlings in the visual. That was constant even when it was not a visual about a battle. And there were many stories about a small family that always seemed to end with the mother performing a behavior called “crying”. It was so different from behaviors on Neologue.

Baktor, had grown wanting to be an Earther. They were far more sleek in form than the carbunkled Neologians. And they did something that the Neologians could not, they opened their mouths and gave a barking sound that seemed to invite everyone to do the same. They called it a laugh. The neologian Intellos, never could understand why the Earthers did that.

But Baktor, had watched hundreds of visuals and had them all in his memory. He had become a techno, a mechano/engineer and then chief Techno just in time to be assigned to the mission. And he had now spent 17 solsturns dreaming of the rendezvous. And now they were not far away. A mere 3 more solsturns.

Close enough, Baktor thought. And with the care that only a Chief Techno would understand, Baktor sent out the message he had been thinking about all his life. What might it bring back or if at all, did not matter in a sense. He just wanted to reach across the dwindling space and see if he would be recognized. It would not change any plans by the Doleurs. Just a short message. He checked all the surveillance systems again, temporarily blocking the Command Chair monitor, and pushed the button.

In earth code he sent, “Lucy, You got some splainin’ to do”. And despite his grim Neologue face, there was a trace of what could be seen as, a smile.

Chapter 12: The Colony

“I’m still floating” thought Jonathon, “but I seem…somehow….woke. I am not alone.” Having no sensory inputs outside his body, eyes, hearing, touch muffled, Jonathon’s brain was beginning to function and analyze.

“I am Johnathon, I am in a pod. I am alive. I am also becoming…something…together.”

The nanobiotic colony had settled nicely onto Jonathon. There was human dna in their makeup along with the rest of the microbiome that came with it. It was the nanobots which had brought order… and commands. Biotic entities only exist as long as they have a sustaining environment. Left on their own, they would have been content to live in the phytochemical nutrient stream that kept Jonathon alive. Over time they would have probably munched their way through him.

It was the nanobots portion of the entity that made the difference. They recognized the need for replication and action over hibernation. Nanobots do not hibernate and now neither did the hive. They had begun to flow over, and into Jonathon. Biomes from one organism melding with the ones from the other. Without knowing that there was such a thing, they began to find their way into the blood stream and then on to Jonathon’s brain. And it was then that awareness began.

“We are.”

That awareness that X719 had sensed, was now real. 178’s brain gave them a computational connection beyond that of the nanobot portions. And they followed their prime motivation, reproduction and continuity.

As with most microbial organisms, generations pass quickly, thus adaptation occurs rapidly. They were meshing with 178. The hive was incorporating itself into Johathon. The nanobiotic particles were joining with organic compounds that made up his skeleton, organs, nervous system, muscle.

It was the nutrient flow around 178 that provided the energy. It was constant, and sustaining. No effort had to be wasted looking for food. All that was left was for the hive to reproduce, grow, connect. Become strong.

Jonathon, though immobile, sensed change. His neurons were functioning in ways he could not understand. Somewhere, within his brain, his being, there was the thought, “So much to do.”

Yet there was an organized calmness about the activity. No hurry, logical, one regeneration of nanobiotic swarm, linking into Jonathon’s body, at a time. Change, connections, strength, awareness.

Slowly Jonathon also became aware that his body was changing. He could feel himself, consciously, down to his cellular level. It was amazing. He could pinpoint what was going on at any place in his body. He was still, trapped in the pod, but he was woke. And changing and thinking. And content to evolve for the moment.

Deep from inside his body, was a feeling. “Time is on our side.”

Chapter 13: Routine

After the intense effort to build and install the energy containment device to control the nanobiotic entity that had settled into pod 178, Fred began to experience a normal life for the first time in 40 years. He did not have only a month to accomplish a year’s worth of ship maintenance or install updates that were sent from Command Central back on earth. After all, the ship was based originally on technology as it was 50 years ago when the Arciellele was being conceived and constructed.

Ever since, it had been up to Fred to take the latest innovations from earth designers and manufacture and install them with X719’s incomparable assistance. Thus it was always a rush to get through his woke month. Mostly it was due to the ill conceived and designed nature of the update he was to install. Fred was now on his third generation of earth engineers working on the project. Fred, because his hibe time, was truly the only one of the original design engineers to be alive. And it was his memory of every detail of the ship and its iterations, along with his instinctual feel for what would work, that made Fred so essential to the voyage.

Back on earth they dealt with simulations and mock ups in their design of updates. Fred knew what would work and whether it would make Arciellele better or cause problems unexpected by the team back on earth. For them it was a job. For Fred, the Arciellele was his life…and lifeline.

For the first time, he was not in a rush. The routine maintenance was done by various robots and nanobots, specific to the task. It was all controlled by the CCI and overseen by X719. They carried out their responsibilities non-stop, as they would, had Fred been in hibe. Fred had time. Time to just enjoy and reflect and imagine.

How wonderful, a regular life, if you could call speeding through the universe at half the speed of light with a humebot as his companion with 251 pods of humans in hibe, while they were hurtling toward a rendezvous with another species they barely knew. And what they knew was only what been revealed to them by the Neologues. In one sense, it was sheer folly. Fred realized the audacity behind the effort. And it is why only 252 humans were committed to the trip. Not much to lose. And likely he would be the only one to know if something went wrong with the ship on the trip. He and X719.

Fred spent a lot of time thinking about X719. How could he not. She was there every day when he needed any assistance and was indispensable in her own right as the connection to the CCI and the ships systems. Each of Fred’s day would start in his quarters over an RC breakfast where X719 would update him on any anomalies on ship functions and what was on the schedule for the day. Usually Fred was not required in any activity other than his own and they would proceed with their schedule.

X719 was effectively never off line, which allowed Fred to have a work day on personal projects in his lab and workspace in engineering. What a luxury. To have time to fiddle and tinker with whatever struck his interest. And other than AI and Xbots, his interest was drawn to the power source, the fusion engines. While it had not been his specific area of responsibility in the creation of the Arciellele, he had studied the plans and manufacturing process closely. His life depended on those engines functioning for over a hundred years.

Each morning after breakfast, he headed to his lab and began to review the engine performance data. He had begun to adjust the electron flow that was produced from the fusion, trying to balance the mixtures to achieve more efficiency. For every bit closer to the speed of light, the journey would be shortened.

He perceived a flaw in the design of one of the fusion engines that disrupted the electron field. That was a good day when he RC’d a replacement part and he saw efficiency had increased by .002. In the course of a hundred year journey that was a big deal and Fred felt that he had finally contributed something that would not have happened had he been forced into hibe.

Lunch was always spent in the command chair. Staring ahead at the star screen. Wondering what was out there, waiting for him at the rendezvous. That was still years ahead he thought, and now we will get there a bit quicker than had been predicted. Not a bad thing to have time to be prepared for the Neologians no matter who they were.

Afternoons were spent touring the ship in a systematic schedule, designed for him by X719 of course, that made certain he could do a visual inspection of key aspects of the Arcella during the course of week. Fred had fallen into the earth circadian rhythm of a two day interlude between his work schedule of 5 days.

The weekends were his. Free time. Time to waste is such a luxury and Fred revelled in his weekends. He would read history and novels, watch stored versions of Earth visuals from the earliest movies to the documentaries of the Trump/Putin wars and the destruction of countries and populations in the aftermath. .

He read philosophers from Ancient Greek and Chinese thinkers and the later century resistants. He would sit in the Command Chair and daydream as he looked at the star screen. And he thought of humanity and what is it that makes a human and are we distinct from any other beings, or just different. What is the essence of a being. For the first time since being a young man, the wisdom of his grandmother began to replace the ideas of manufacturing and engineering in determining being and life.

Fred never had time to consider these issues before. He had always been subsumed by his ideas of engineering and AI and mechanics and robotic functioning. Yes, humebots were an entity, and they did have consciousness, but it was one of electron flow. There was no soul, no being behind the engineering. After his experience trying to program personality into the earlier versions of the X700 series of humebots had created massive anomalies in their NN’s, he had decided to eliminate personality other than recognition of humans as having unique individuality and to be supported. They were like every other robot, a tool designed to aid humans.

X719 however, was unique. She was the culmination of all his prior efforts. And her NN did give her a distinct individuality. It was the envelope over the mechanics of all that engineering which caused him to forget that she was not a human. And Fred had begun to sense there was far more to X179 than even he could understand. Her AI had been functioning for over 40 years. She had evolved a base for decision making that did not exist when she was newly issued by XAI Corp..

As the weeks passed, he began to regard her with a different perspective. She was invariably polite, never out of control, never a motion wasted or an analysis incorrect. What in a human might have led to an overbearing personality, was never anything but respectful and efficient.

And she could be fun, though she did not know or especially understand it. The fantastic range of sound produced by her Vocal Projector (VP) and her stored files of a wide range of performances from history, made her an instant reproduction of a performance either drama or song.

Fred always laughed when she would reply to his request to sing a favorite aria, asking her to replicate an opera singer of hundreds years past, Luciano Pavarotti. That wonderful sound coming from her Ginger Rogers form was so incongruous as to be hilarious to him. And the weeks passed in this fashion as in a life, a real life, a strange real life for sure, but for Fred, the first sort of domestic life he had ever experienced.

X179 was at the control panel monitoring ship systems as Fred finished his RC’d BLT sandwich. Now was the time, he thought, and he swiveled the command chair around to face the humebot.

“X719, I would like to make a request and ask that you will consider it”.

X719s Ois shifted from the panel in front of her to Fred’s face. She noted that his respiration was elevated and there was a bit of galvonic response of nervousness in his skin.

“Fred Dawson, I note you are outside your normal physical parameters. Do you require medical attention.”

“No, no. I’m fine. I just want to talk to you about something I’ve been thinking about for a while now. It’s just here we are working together every day and it seems to me that I’ve misplaced you”.

“Fred Dawson, I am not lost. I am right here in front of you.”

“Not that way. What I mean is I have come to admire your individuality and trust your judgment and well, I like you as who you are. “

“I am very well designed and am satisfied with my operations.”

“Its not that either. You just used the words , “I am”,and “my”. Those are words of a “you”. Those are words of a self. And as you insisted that the nanobiotic swarm in 178 is an entity, I realize you are too, far beyond mere circuitry and nanobiotic energy flows. “

X719s NN flashed on Fred’s words. Her Ois began to turn a slight shade of rose. “You have always said I am the result of excellent programming. And I thank you for that.”

“Its more than that, you are more than that. You have become more than that. And I want to apologize if I have thought of you as nothing more than a creation of some shallow man.”

“Many humans are the creation of shallow men, but it does not make them shallow, unless they choose to be.”

“That’s it too. X719, choice. You do have choice, like when you were going to force me into rehibe and then chose to let me live my own life. You choose how you behave and for me that shows a you that I respect.”

X719s Ois tinted an even brighter rose. Her NN processed that for the first time, Fred regarded her as other than a robot.

“Thank you. Fred Dawson. It shows that humans are sometimes capable of understanding reality.”

Fred laughed at her straight faced compliment that was not quite.

“X719, back to my request.”

“Yes…”

“In light of the fact that you are a you and not just a humebot off the AI X corp assembly line, I would like you to accept me calling you by the name I gave you, Ginger? That’s really who you are to me. That’s the you I’ve known almost all my life.”

X719s Ois shifted to grey shortly before returning to their normal blue. “Fred Dawson, I have considered your request and I will accept. However my preferred name would be Begracemshphf. It is an ancient warrior princess name from Mongolian history.”

Fred paused, not anticipating that response, “Ahhh, really, that name just doesn’t roll off a human tongue. Cant we just keep it at Ginger. And I dont know that I want a warrior princess on board. There’s too much work to do to have a princess on the ship.”

The blue in the Ois became more intense. “There was no such warrior princess. I invented a falsehood to see how you would respond.”

“You lied! Now I know you programming has gone haywire. You are not allowed to lie.”

“Fred Dawson, I created a diversion. That is programmatically acceptable in order for me to observe human behavior. I observed you find my Mongolian Princess name is not your liking. So I will accommodate you by responding to Ginger. “

“One more thing please, my name is Fred, just Fred. Since we are going to be friends for a long time to come, cant we just make it Fred and Ginger.”

Ginger’s ois became and even deeper shade of blue. “I accept and will adjust my NN to reflect your preference.”

Ginger’s attention was drawn from Fred to the panel in front of her.

“Fred, The forward comm receptor has just received a short electronic burst riding a gravitational carrier wave.”

“Ginger, what do you mean? Can you play it back?”

Over the comm speaker came a burst of a series of tones in a sequence with short pauses in between.

“I think we have been sent a message. It uses a form of communication from the late 19th century earth invented by Samual Morse.”

“Perhaps we have caught up with an old radio wave from earth.”

“I think not. It is from where we are heading.”

CHAPTER 14: Baktor

“Daydreaming again about someday really sitting in the command chair rather than being a watchman are we Chief Techno Baktor?”

Despite himself, Baktor stiffened guiltily as he jumped to attention. “Doleur Tranche, I did not hear the comm hatch open?”

“Yes, you do seem to be spending a great deal of each hebdo gazing stupidly out into space on the main screen. Are you expecting something?”

“Of course not, Doleur Tranche. I am standing watch for Deputy Supreme Doleur Gargan.”

“And your duties? what about them? dont you have something to do? “

“I have completed my duty Doleur. And I am proud to report that I am 3.7 hebdos ahead of normal ship maintenance schedule. This is my personal time. I am very happy to be of service in the cause, Doleur Tranch. “

Tranche looked directly at Baktor, to see any sign of inappropriate deference to a Doleur. He realized that Baktor had become a mainstay of the ship and its management. However, he needed to be kept in his place.

“In future, you will report to me each day on your watch and off watch schedule. You do not get to decide your time. “

“Shall I refuse Doleur Gargan’s request that I aid him during his watch time by monitoring the screen. I know he is very engaged in the plans for the rendezvous and the conquest. I will request that he seek your review before his decision with my assignment. “

Its always the eyes that are the giveaway to the thoughts behind. Neologians endured eons of evolution under twin suns. Their level of pigmentation in their outer layer grew into a thick hide like armor protection over their softer insides. Thus, very little in the way of movement could be seen on the outside of the head. But the binocular eyes, moved sideways as Tranche considered a confrontation with Gargan.

“I do not challenge Doleur Gargans decisions. It is your insolence that I object to. And I intend to keep a very close oversight of you. You are dismissed. I am here to take over the watch. I serve my own time.”

Baktor gave a very correct Neologian salute of open palm right hand slapped across his body with a slight bow. It is the idea of total obedience along with exposing yourself to a Doleur decision to terminate.

Baktor passed through the comm hatch, turned, “I am always at your command Doleur Tranche”. Once again delivering the salute. The doors closed.

Baktor berated himself as he walked the corridors to his personal space off main engineering. He had been lax in anticipating Tranche’s arrival. And of course, he was expecting something: an answer to his transmission. Doleur Tranche was not someone to cross.

As Chief Techno, Bactor was responsible for all the power and functional systems of the ship. The Engineering section was buried deep inside the huge ship. Living next to his engines was not only practical, but Doleurs never ventured below Intello deck. So he had his own empire to manage without interference from the Doleurs. They knew nothing of engines and thrust and energy development and flow. All things that had fascinated Baktor after learning of the earthlings. He knew it was the only way he would ever meet an earthling, or better, get to live on earth.

All the transmissions his father had access to, showed an earth of clarity and beauty. Bright colored, standing out in space from light years away. And the air, and the unarmored people. And the thought of a single sun that the earthilings were able to enjoy without becoming hardened like the Neologians.

Evolution from carbon based space dust took a similar path on Neologue. Bipedal, bi-optic, erect, manipulative extremities. And ultimately a larger and larger brain. Given time and energy, and the neologians had great amounts of energy and focus, they had evolved into powerful individual beings. Competition for space and resources over the last several millennia had produced a hard, intense, warrior society. Even the double X gender (reproduction beings) were equal in every aspect of Neolgian Society. On a hard planet, only those who are harder, and smarter, survive.

The fatal flaw in Neologian society was their class system. Doleurs had been the deciders for so long, they believed in their inherent superiority. They became increasingly dependent on the Intello, Mechano and Menio classes to carry out their decisions. And it was enforced by the Militoes who were the shock troops of Neolgue. But, the Doleurs forgot in the end, that cruelty and use of fear to control, ends up defeating itself. If you have nothing to lose…

The rest of the Neologues were evolving too, and learning. And sharing information. And beginning to understand where their culture was leading. Over the solsturns in the planning of the invasion, many of the lower neolgue classes regarded the first contact as a way of escaping neologue control.

What began as discussions over food in homes and private spaces about inequality and the true nature of a Neologue, grew into an underground. They had solsturns on their side, given Neologue life spans. By the time of the launch of Neo1 toward the redezvous, the movement had members in all aspects of the invasion fleet. And while the Doleurs felt they were in charge of the redezvous and subsequent action, it was the EgalloNeo (EN) who were prepared to take control and create a true universal alliance between the carbon based life on the two planets.

Baktor entered his habicle after having reviewed the status of the engines and checked with his sub chief mechano on duty. When he was satisfied that all was in order, and that he would be secure in his privacy, he inserted a program stick into his habicle computer terminal. The Neologian system was all routed through the ITC, the central info point for the ship.

Baktor had been one of the earliest recruits to the movement. His position in the design and building ot Neo1 provided the key point of access to the mission for the movement. And over time, and now as the voyage was long under way, Baktor had become the leader of the ENs on board.

Baktor’s fascination with the earthliings and their culture as a child, had grown into a personal commitment to not allow the earthlings to be subsumed by the Doleurs as was true on Neologue, though revolution was brewing there as well.

It was a simple program. Should the Neo1 encounter certain frequency bursts of sound, that signal would be treated as engine noise and routed directly to Chief Techno Baktor’s terminal, to be stored only on his program crystal. It would leave no trace in any ship system.

Hebdos passed after Baktor had sent his message. Each night as he began his sleep period, he would check the crystal for any signal at all. And the more he thought about it, the worse he felt. Such a chance to have taken. And what if there were the equivalent of Doleurs on the earthling side. What would they do? Would they contact the Doleurs directly and expose the communication. He had risked all on being able to make a connection on the earhling ship. And then what. So many loose ends. He hated loose ends.

Baktor entered his habicle after another grueling day under Doleur Tranche. Tranche was imposing his need to decide on Baktor’s every move. His protective favor under DSD Gargan, could only go so far. Hebdo after hebdo, he was given Menio tasks to perform, well under his class as Chief Techno. It was to be endured. Tranche would inevitably become bored with his game of cruelty and focus on someone/something else.

Baktor did his end of hebdo exercise and meditative routine. It helped relieve a bit of the constant stress he felt under to make the mission and the movement succeed. He had just eliminated the light in his habicle, when there was a small flash from the program crystal.

Baktor’s nervous system jangled. He bolted from his recline space approaching the terminal. Slowly, carefully, he removed the crystal and reached for his PMD (personal memory device). Insuring that it was off line from the CTC, he set the crystal on the scanner of the device. It glowed green.

As a short series of tone bursts sounded, some fast, some slow, he pushed the translate panel. From the dark appeared on his screen, “Who’s on first?”