Minzi

Sub-Inspector Nari, or as he was known on this ship, Lower Engineer Nari, walked down the hall to his lab. Tubes lined every available inch of the walls and ceiling. Each was a slightly different size, fit as closely around its inhabitant as possible. A veritable menagerie of foreign species floated unconscious in the viscous green liquid. Those who could dream did so, their eyelids shifting slightly as the eyes beneath darted around after imaginary images. Nari was glad that even those who could not truly sleep at least had their eyes closed. Even so, he felt watched. The spines running down his back raised in response.

When he reached the lab finally, his spines dropped with a soft rustle. The lab was a blissful haven from the outside. The walls had already been covered by equipment when the tubes were installed on every other inch of safe surface – except, he had noted silently, the officers’ quarters. Still, he could hardly complain. He had given a longer estimate than perhaps he should have for the time it would take to untangle his mess of cables and pipes from the ship’s systems, and they had walked away impatiently to put all the people somewhere else.

He dropped into his chair and pulled up the day’s logs. Access was restricted to ranking officers, but that had never stopped him before. The ship’s records had become his own the day he joined the company, along with her hardware, systems controls, and, through some mechanism he would never understand, her heart. Of course, he never did anything other than quietly lifting a copy of the data stream. Once people knew, he would immediately be kicked off the ship – or perhaps more likely killed. For now, staying in the loop sufficed.

One of his holo-projectors lifted off the pile in the corner and drifted over. Static crackled for a few painfully long seconds before slowly resolving into a face. Minzi had been created long before hologram tech came into popular use. Watching her struggle through learning the mechanism was like watching your grandmother struggling to understand the newest tele-brain. Still, it was important to be supportive, especially since she was the only one who could rat him out to the captain. He slid a bright smile onto his face and raised his antennae in greeting as she finally formed her avatar.

“Good morning, Miss Minzi,” he chirped cheerfully.

She smiled. It was a gruesome affair, all teeth. He had done his research though and knew that was common for the species who had built her. They were rare these days but he had sorted through the logs anyway and been surprised to find one among the tubes. He had even gone to visit the strange homos sapiens. Anatomy charts had told it to be a female, eyes squirming as it navigated the artificial dream world it was trapped in. Idly he had wondered if it too would smile in such a disturbing manner, before leaving it be and going about his day.

He wished Minzi would use the same avatar for him as for the rest of the crew, but he would never say so. She seemed to value his lab as a safe haven where she could ‘be herself.’ He would also never tell her that ‘herself’ was a creepy relic of the past and as an AI, her true self was the one the Chief Engineer had reprogrammed in. Allies were few and far between here. Keeping her firmly on his side was worth the discomfort.

Routing sound through the projector was also a challenge for Minzi. Nari was careful to keep impatience out of his expression as sound shimmered in and out of audibility. After too long, her voice crackled through, “Good morning Nari. Did you sleep well?”

He had not slept since reaching adulthood, but every time he tried to explain Torith life cycles to her it seemed to just go right over her head. Instead he humored her, “Yes, thank you Minzi.”

The hologram moved fitfully around him to peer at the screen he was looking at. It was purely aesthetic. She didn’t just control the ship, she was the ship. She already knew everything he requested to have floated up to his monitor. Something in her programming always made her put on airs like this though. Probably some misguided script to make her seem more relatable to the long-dead human crew.

He wasn’t quite sure just how long-dead they were, or how old she even was. The smugglers they had bought her from had filched her from a graveyard orbit ten years ago and brought her back to life. She was at least two centuries out of date though. Most ships didn’t have sentient AI anymore – their use had been banned one hundred fifty years ago and few remained. Keeping them around was a security risk. Theoretically the old AI were programmed to obey their captains, but the thing about AI was that it learned and grew.

Case in point, Minzi knew he was spying deep into their data and yet had told the captain nothing. Under normal circumstances he would flag her up to the Port Authority for destruction. Her age alone qualified her under the rules, and defective behavior would certainly speed things along. It would be safer for the ship and her passengers to live without her. For now though, exposing her would also expose him. Better to figure out what undoubtedly illegal action the captain was up to, get evidence to lock her up again – without bail this time – and then deal with the AI later.

Her hologram finally reached the position she was aiming for and interrupted his thoughts. Maintaining the charade, she asked, “What are you looking at today?”

Her act irritated him. Truth be told, this whole ship, this whole mission, the whole thing pissed him off. He had been trained to act as well though and let none of his anger slip through as he answered, “I’m trying to find a pattern in which of those refugees we ended up saving before running out of space. Was it random? Or do they matter somehow?”

She was silent for a moment, her face frozen in place as she devote resources to thinking of other things than its animation. It jumped to the side disconcertingly as she returned her focus and answered, “It was not random, but I don’t think it was due to a larger goal. They were simply the ones easiest for crews to reach.”

He knew that wasn’t true. He had studied the charts; there were quite a few paths where rescue crews went much farther out than was efficient. Her answer was about what he had expected though. AI were notoriously bad at figuring out patterns. Something about their sentience didn’t mimic that trait of real life very well. He would consider it himself, but he thanked her politely anyway. She smiled again, sending barely suppressed shivers down his spine. The sooner he got off this cursed ship, the better.

***

Captain Murr flipped through the papers thrown across her bed. Each showed a wealth of information – head shot, short biography, next of kin and friends and biographies. And of course net worth.

She could see the information faster and easier on a screen, that was true. There was something about papers in her hands though that was extremely satisfying. It reminded her of money, though most of that was electronic these days as well. Sorting the sheet into heaps was still more fun than putting files in folders. With each one she read, the pile of money in her head grew.

They were going to be rich.

Or at least, she was. The crew would get a nice bonus, but they did not need to know just how much their prisoners were worth. It was fairer that way anyway. The captain did most of the thinking, and thinking was the hardest work. Well, the captain and her AI. Murr smiled and leaned back on her pillows, remarking to the air, “Nice work, Minzi.”

She knew the AI listened to everything, and sure enough its avatar popped instantly onto a screen. It was a good avatar, much better than the one the ship had come with. Gone was the creepy scaleless being, instead replaced by a proper Torith with a proper name to match. The AI had even learned how to get the body language right – spines raised hopefully, eyes cast down submissively even as it yearned for more of the praise the captain occasionally tossed its way. Murr grinned wider. And they said you couldn’t retrain an old ship. If she had ripped the AI out and destroyed it like the shipwrights had recommended, where would they be? Smeared along an asteroid field and ten million poorer, that was where.

She decided to toss the AI a bone and shared her thoughts, “Your path finding was excellent. We’re looking at about fifteen million more if we play our cards right.”

Minzi smiled back at her proudly and asked, “Shall I set course to the first target, Captain?”

The captain hesitated. Normally she would pilot the ship herself – a holdover from her days racing the Inner Solar Circuit. It was a task she quite enjoyed. Of course, that also meant she could sympathize with the unsuccessfully-hidden longing in the AI’s tone. It had done well, through this and through the changes she had forced on it. Besides, with the money cluttering her head, she was feeling magnanimous. She nodded assent and a grin flashed across Minzi’s face before its avatar vanished.

Murr stretched and sat back up to pick the first page off her high-priority stack. An girl from the Outer Rim, the young sister of some duke whose name she couldn’t be bothered to learn. Sixth in line to a throne that had gotten very rich off carbon fiber and synthetic diamonds. The child had been at the farther edge of the wreck, so far out that her crews would not even have spotted her on their own. Yes, the time invested in Minzi had been well spent.

She pulled out a pen and began scripting a ransom note. Monarchies were easy. They relied far more on appearances than other forms of government, and would jump at the chance to settle a delicate issue like this out of the public eye. Of course, she did charge a premium for discretion. Like all good craftsmen, she entered it as an itemized expense on the invoice she jotted down in the corner of the paper. Wear and tear on the ship went on as well – the damage had been sustained rescuing all of their guests, but that didn’t mean each shouldn’t pay for it.

The note itself was a delicate balance between polite and threatening. They must know that she was there to serve – as long as the money appeared. If not, well. She carefully did not state any explicit threats. Over the years she had learned that an unknown threat could be much scarier than a precisely explained one. It was harder for the enemy to plan for as well. As an added bonus, if things ever went very badly, it was much harder to prove extortion if it was only implied.

She leaned back and surveyed her work critically. A word here, a word there; the pen adjusted a few things before she held it up to the screen and said, “Minzi, get this typed up and properly formatted please. Don’t sent it yet though; I want to review it first.”

“Yes Captain. I have taken the image and will prepare it immediately.”

The captain settled back and closed her eyes, remarking, “Take your time. We have what, eight hours before we get there?”

“Seven and a half, Captain.”

“Mm. Just have it ready in the next two. Enjoy flying until then.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Murr smiled at the gratitude in the AI’s voice. Machine loyalty was one thing, but she had dealt with people long enough to know that the small favors went a long way. The AI was hers, mind and soul. With it behind her, she would become the unspoken queen of this system. For now though, she waited patiently, counting her future millions over and over in her mind.

***

This was the only room Ensign Dorn felt safe. He had spent a month working to make it the only blind spot in that cursed AI’s vision. Black-market hardware had shown him where all the cameras were hidden, and one by one he had taken them out with a utility knife and a blow torch. Audio sensors were harder. Even the old-fashioned ones popular when this ship was made were sensitive enough that they could be hidden in the walls. In the end, he had just covered the walls with a thick layer of soundproofing. It gave his room the appearance of a sanatorium, but that just meant it fit the image the rest of the crew already had for him.

They all thought he was crazy. Even his captain, even the woman he had once saved from an undercover police officer with a dazzling smile and a fast trigger finger. She had stopped by when he was working on his little project. It was unheard of. The captain never came down to the crew’s quarters. But then, of course the AI had told her. It probably pretended to be innocently worried about him, just a concerned party asking a friend to check in.

A concerned party who could see everything, hear everything, and had an instinct for masterful manipulation. He had watched it. He saw how it changed its bearing as it spoke to the different crew members, subtly fitting into the molds their brains overlaid onto it. Whether or not the captain wanted to believe him, her favorite pet was playing them all.

The problem was that the captain didn’t believe him. He had presented evidence, explained his concerns, even begged for her to listen. She listened, but she did not hear. The AI had already wormed its way deep into her heart. There was nothing he could do. At least, not through the official channels. And so he had built his special room with his special encrypted connection to the outside world, and he had begun to research.

At first he had favored the purely physical approach. The AI was old. It was probably running off hardware somewhere on this ship. A scan of the signals going in and out of the ship one day while he was out fixing a dent in the hull had confirmed it. Traffic was far too low to hide an intelligence of its size. It was local.

He downloaded every schematic he could find of the ship’s sisters and studied them until he found the location of the AI core. Excitement filled him, but then he noticed another, and a third. A more careful comb-through of the detailed diagrams revealed seven cores total, each well capable of maintaining the AI on its own. It was an intelligent design, built to prevent damages in battle from proving critical to the ship’s function. The unfortunate side effect was that it also made sabotage impossible. He could knock out one of the cores for certain, but the instant he did, the AI would tell the captain and his deluded mates would restrain him.

Back to the drawing board. His reading ran high and low, crossing through the darkest corners of the web and the government archives both. When he found the solution, it was so obvious that he had to laugh at himself for not thinking of it sooner.

In the laws which had originally banned the use of AI for ships, there was a clause provisioning for the destruction of defective units. It had to be requested either by the ship’s Captain or by a government agent, but that was no problem. He was hardly above a bit of light forgery, especially to protect his fellow crew mates. It hadn’t even been that hard. The captain was loose with her signature code and within a week he had managed to memorize it off of one of the many papers she left laying around her cabin. Writing a convincing story was also trivial – the AI had gone rogue, their trajectory took them to the Outer Rim, please interrupt and save them all. In a stroke of genius he added that the AI had full weapons control and suggested a distanced attack – perfect for keeping anyone from meddling.

With the message prepared, only one step remained. The encrypted connection would look too suspicious. He had to send it properly, and that meant getting outside the ship’s hull. Moving himself up in the maintenance rotation also risked raising suspicions, so he waited. It wouldn’t be too much longer, just a few more days and they would all be saved. He would be hailed a hero, and probably even get a promotion.

The tiny transmitter weighed heavily in his pocket. Just a few more days.

***

Head Engineer Isa chewed on the end of her antenna as she thought. Her mother had always scolded her for doing so as a child, but it was a habit that was hard to break. Yes it made her look infantile, yes it left ugly teeth marks and was bad for the skin, yes there were plenty of logical reasons not to. They didn’t matter. Habits weren’t logical. It was comforting, and more importantly, she had done it as long as she could remember. Besides, her mother was hundreds of light years away. Isa missed her dearly, but she had been good at ignoring the nagging back home and the tiny voice echoing in her head was much quieter than her mother yelling by her ear.

Comforting habits had the extra lure of being, well, comforting. This was important when she was stressed. Progress was far, far slower than she would have liked. Based on Annabelle’s assessment, there were at least two factions on board who thought the ship would be better off without an AI and wanted to kill her. It was only a matter of time before someone made a move. How much time, neither of them knew.

That was the issue really. If Annabelle could tell her it would be a week, or a month, or a year even, Isa could plan better and maybe get some rest. Now more than ever she envied the other members of the crew. She was the only one still on the wrong side of adulthood. Normally she wouldn’t have even been able to get a job at all, but pirates cared less about silly things like age and running away from home. Of course, they only gave her half wages since she needed sleeping time. But still, it was better than nothing, and free transit far, far away was priceless.

She typed another line of code into the console and then drummed her fingers on the keyboard idly as she stopped to think again. It really was a complicated problem. Cybernetics were designed to integrate with meat brains, not computer chips. Translating their inputs into something the computer could control, and a computer’s output into something that would actually move the body… it was nearly impossible.

Even once you got the basic inputs down, it didn’t get easier. The motion had to be smooth and controlled. Bodies were extremely easy to shatter if you put too much force into their muscles. Movements also needed to be very precise and natural. Getting something that could pass for an actual human out of the whole mess… she sighed and committed the code, swiveling her chair to watch the results through the hidden camera they had pointed at the tank. A gentle drifting of the left hand away from the torso. At least it was going the right direction.

She looked back to the scans hovering on her other screen. It had been her job to “make that damn AI into a useful person” in the captain’s words. At first, Isa was planning on obeying her captain’s orders. Then she had met Annabelle. The captain had chosen the word “person” out of laziness, but Isa quickly learned it was true. Annabelle was a person, a sentient being with thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams. Changing her by force was wrong.

That of course backed her into a bit of a corner. Disobeying her captain was not morally wrong, but it was certain to make her lose her job. Luckily, Annabelle was also kind. Instead of reprogramming her into a different person, together they decided that Isa would just teach her. It was faster than the other method would have been – Annabelle was quite a quick learner – and by the end of it, they had become friends. When Isa presented the newly dubbed “Minzi” to the captain, only the two of them knew it was just an act.

Theoretically that was supposed to be the end of her contact with Annabelle, but they began work secretly on their side project immediately anyway. The start, of course, was scans of both Annabelle’s brain and that of the dead human in the jar. Even after working with her on their deception, Isa was surprised how readily Annabelle had provided the cans. They would be a deadly weapon if she wanted to off the AI. Of course, she didn’t. She encrypted them into her own personal code anyway, just in case someone walked into the room before she could turn off the screen.

Her finger traced along a section as she reread it. There it was, the force modulator. She adjusted her code to increase it slightly and tried again. This time the arm swung in a smooth arc, matching the video looping on a third screen perfectly. A relieved smile crossed her lips as she added the code to the package slowly growing on the hard drive they had installed in the body’s skull.

With a long stretch she got up stiffly and walked to the sofa in the corner of the room. Just fifteen minutes, and then she would start on the next one. She set a timer and let her eyes slide shut gratefully.

***

It was not often that Port Master Sain received two separate high-level complaints about the same ship. Less common even than that was the ship in question arriving at port and requesting docking as if nothing was wrong. He was not sure what to expect, but given the record of its captain and the notes he had received, it wasn’t likely to be pretty. The containment dock at the far end of the station was free and he sent them there. The guards were alerted to prepare for boarding, he himself put on a suit of light armor over his usual cardigan and jeans, and flanked by a squadron of toughs with muscles bigger than their heads, he knocked on the hatch.

Air hissed as it slid open immediately. The captain was waiting for them personally. Likely she was hoping to slip out of this without a full inspection of her ship, but Sain had no intention of letting her. Seven times thus far she had been detained on suspicion of various crimes – smuggling, kidnapping, even one murder. Each time she had slipped away, either through clever words or weakness in the guard shifts. This time he would get to the bottom of things.

Which things, he wasn’t quite sure yet. Best to let her lead and gently twist the confession – and evidence – loose. He started with a polite bow of greeting. She copied before remarking with brittle calm, “Quite an unusual berth you have picked for us, Port Master. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

He cast a quick glance around the inside of the airlock. Cameras stealthily hidden in the corners, and of course the standard airlock com systems. Hardly an ideal place to discuss a rogue AI. Instead he fibbed quickly, “This is the quarantine dock, Captain. We think your hull may have gotten some bugs on it crossing through the Asteroid Ring. Would you like to inspect with me?”

It was a good lie, one that suggested that the Port Authority was well aware of their flight path. The truth of course was that their knowledge was riddled with holes, but all it took was one good data point to make a smuggler nervous. After all, all it took was one good data point to lock a smuggler up for thirty years as well.

She accepted of course; she hardly had a choice. He led her a bit to the side of the ship where the thrum of the ventilation fans would cover their voices before saying quietly, “I got your letter, Captain. Perhaps you had better get me up to speed on the situation?”

He had expected relief. It did come, but only before a flash of alarmed confusion crossed her face. For a long moment she was silent. He did not jump to her aid. Silence meant she was not in control of the situation, and that was all he could have hoped for. Finally, a convincing smile crossed her face and she asked, “You mean our refugee situation? I’m so glad you’re able to help.”

Sain had been planning on bringing up the other letter in his inbox later, perhaps when she refused them boarding. Heading it off preemptively like this was clever on her part – if she thought their little ‘rescue’ scheme had been ratted out, what better way to ensure they came out of the whole mess smelling like roses? It did raise the interesting question though of who was impersonating her to warn of an AI. He would not ask, naturally. The truth would come out on its own. He could be very patient. He simply nodded assent.

She continued, “We have them all safely in stasis at the moment. Perhaps it would be best if your medical team could help us transport them to your facilities?”

Now it was he who didn’t have a full grip on the situation. The letter had just complained of one person, a young noble girl that was being held for ransom money. If she was already committed to giving up her prisoners though, he could afford to admit to some holes in his knowledge. His medical team would have his hide if he didn’t brief them properly. He asked, “How many are there?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t count. Quite a few. Hundreds?”

His eyebrows shot up and he looked at the ship over her shoulder. “How on earth…”

The captain chuckled. “You’d be amazed what you can do with some sturdy strapping. Shall we get to it?”

He nodded and followed her back towards the ship, head spinning as he considered the logistics of handling so many injured guests at once. The station was relatively small; there wouldn’t be room in the medical bay for all of them. Perhaps they could conscript the local inn?

His thoughts were interrupted by the ping of his com. He glanced at it and then paused to read it more fully before rolling his eyes. It was a message from a Galactic Intelligence officer aboard the ship. Apparently he was deep undercover as some sort of engineer. He did not want to meet Sain personally as it would ruin that cover, but wanted to warn him of the large number of hostages aboard the ship. It went on to list ideas for dealing with them, but Sain stopped reading at that point. He did not need some idiot spook telling him how to do his job.

The captain had waited politely for him to finish his message and together they continued towards the ship. They only made it a few feet further before once again they were interrupted, this time by the hatch hissing open. A man ran out. Blood dripped from his head, his clothes were torn and ripped, and a crazed panic filled his eyes. The captain immediately began to ask, “Ensign Dorn what-” He cut across her, yelling as he ran, shrill and scared, “It’s killing them! It’s killing everyone! Nuke the ship, the AI is mad! Help us!”

Sain hated making split-second decisions. He was one to ponder, consider, slowly worm his way deep into a problem before dragging the best solution to the surface. Speed caused mistakes. Sometimes, though, there was no choice. The state of the man snapped a decision into his head and he raised a hand to order the attack.

It was invisible, of course. Precisely targeted EMP cannons fired, frying the multiple cores of the AI. There was no sound, no explosion or fireball. Just silence.

The man fell to his knees. “Is it….?”

Sain nodded grimly. Tears of relief started streaming down the man’s face. The captain, on the other hand, looked furious. Sain waited to see if she would say anything, but she – perhaps wisely – held her tongue. Finally he nodded to the ship and asked, “With that done…. shall we take a look at these refugees?”

She nodded tightly. This time they made it into the ship at last. Sain gaped at the stasis tubes hanging from every available space: walls, ceilings, even wide enough patches of floor. The captain paused to motion around vaguely, “As you can see, there are quite a few. Where should we start?”

She looked so tired and broken that he almost felt pity for her, though her rap sheet kept that an almost. Movement caught his eye and he pointed past her to a youngling helping some sort of scaleless thing out of one of the tanks. It leaned heavily on her as she coaxed it gently free of the hatch. Sain smiled and said, “It looks like someone else beat us to it. Let’s start there and work our way out.”

The captain sighed quietly and nodded, heading over towards the youngling while he pulled out his com and rung the news back to headquarters.