Nova Wars

When Hetmwit was done eating the Captain picked up his own tray and the coffee cup and moved it over to the neat little device embedded in the table that dissolved the tray and its contents in order to 'reclaim' the matter. Hetmwit loved watching the tray sparkle, turn blue, then vanish with a little fizzing sound. Hetmwit did the same, expressing pleasure when his tray vanished.

"There is one thing you need to know before we start on anything else," the Captain said.

"What's that?" Hetmwit asked, following the Captain out of the Officer's Mess.

"In case I vanish or get killed, you need to know how to manually restart the system in order to bring me back," the Captain said.

"You can be brought back?" Hetmwit asked.

"Yes. Repeatedly. It's part of the safety function," the Captain said.

Hetmwit thought about it as they walked through the large corridors. Twice patrolling robots moved against the wall to let Hetmwit and the Captain move by. Hetmwit had learned that living troops would often call out "make way!" to warn the others down the corridor to get out of the way of high ranking officers, large beings, power armor, robots, but more importantly, get out of way of work crews moving something through the passageways.

It was a small compartment, unmarked and unlisted on the ship's schematic that Hetmwit brought up. It simply said: "Emergency Omnibus Cortex Reconstruction" on the dataplate between a physical keyboard and a simply flat cathode ray tube.

Captain Decken walked Hetmwit through each step, multiple times, having Hetmwit write it all down.

"What does this do?" Hetmwit asked, pointing at a simple set of lines toward the end.

>force update decken-suds.tem -lu /r /i -td

>force load decken-suds.tem /r /i /td

"Forces the system to first update my template with my last recorded memories, even if the memories fail checks," Decken said.

Hetmwit looked at the next set of instructions that ended with /force growth.decken.suds.rec and "Now press the big red button" on his dataslate.

"So, wait. If you get killed, this whole thing will recover your last memories and reprint you?" Hetmwit asked.

Captain Decken nodded. "Yes. In theory," he shook his head. "I haven't been activated according to my memories, so this is pretty new for me."

Hetmwit nodded.

"It's all new for me," he said. "I'm just glad it's not too difficult for me."

"Your competence is something I can rely on in an uncertain universe," the Captain said.

"I just hope I can reach your expectations," Hetmwit said.

"A Captain with a competent Number One is a blessed Captain indeed," the Terran said.

-----

Satisfied with the shift's work at programming the bipedal robots, Hemtwit headed toward the Officer's Mess. The Captain kept Hemtwit informed as to where he was as well as kept constant track of where Hemtwit was working or the space he was currently occupying.

Hetmwit had to admit, it was gratifying that the Captain seemed to be able to keep track of him at all times. So far there had never been an interrupted conversation that Hetmwit had been forced to restart or remind the Captain of his presence, the Captain never forgot about him or 'lost' track of him.

It was still a novel experience after nearly two weeks of work.

It was gratifying, Hemtwit often thought to himself, that he was finally noticed. Not lauded for achievement, but the simple act of someone remembering he existed. Of being seen and having someone know he existed even if he was out of sight.

Hemtwit felt good about himself and life when he went into the Officer's Mess. He could see the Captain staring at the tabletop and could tell by the LED lighting on the edges that the table was in smart mode, so that the Captain could use the top of the table as an interactive computer input surface.

The expected to be projected on the surface of the table was something like the ship's schematic, or a status report on the robots, or even a checklist of what still needed to be done before the reactors could be brought online now that the emergency backup secondary damage control computer systems were online.

Instead, the Captain was staring at a square of small rectangles, laid out 20 by 20, with random gaps in it.

As Hemtwit watched, the Captain touched one of the cards. It 'flipped' to reveal a stylized cartoon gear. The Captain smiled slightly and touched a card on the upper right, that flipped over to reveal a matching gear. The two cards pulsed and vanished, leaving behind gaps.

Watching, fascinated, Hetmwit saw that the Captain was flipping over the first card almost at random then either selecting a matching one or another random one. Sometimes he would tap what appeared to be a random one then match it to the one that he had previously tapped second.

It took him a few moments to realize that the Captain had somehow memorized where the cards were based on having previously revealed the hidden face.

The Captain finished, clearing the last eight cards in rapid succession, then leaned back with a smile.

"Not bad, twenty-two minutes," he said. He picked up his cup of coffee and sipped at it.

"Training?" Hetmwit asked.

The Captain shook his head. "No. Relaxation. I enjoy playing that game. I prefer physical cards, but a twenty by twenty deck is pretty thick and mine is probably long gone," he said. He looked at Hetmwit. "Do you play match often?"

Hetmwit shook his head. "No. I've never even seen it before."

"A simple child's game, but I enjoy it," the Captain said.

Hetmwit stared. "A child's game?"

The Captain nodded. "Children as young as three years old can play it. That and shape recognition games at about two years old," he looked at Hetmwit. "Your people do not play such things?"

Hetmwit shook his head.

The Captain reached over and tapped the surface of the table in front of Hetmwit, bringing up a menu. He quickly tapped through it then stopped, looking at the layouts.

"Let's start you out simply. Five by five," the Captain said.

Hetmwit nodded, afraid to protest.

The cards appeared, all face down.

"Go ahead," the Captain said, staring at Hetmwit.

Hetmwit tried, but his frustration began to mount as he forgot that he had turned over a card, or that he had remembered which card he had previously seen wrong. After nearly twenty minutes he finally cleared the last two.

"You're getting frustrated, Number One," the Captain said, tapping pause on the timer of his own game.

Hetmwit nodded. "I keep messing up."

The Captain nodded. "It is to be expected. You aren't a green mantid esports competitor doing speed runs, you're going to make mistakes but, and this is something you should remember, if you flipped up a new card then it isn't a mistake."

"Frustrating," Hetmwit reiterated.

The Captain smiled. "You need a new heading for your outlook, Number One," he said. He reached over and wiped his away, restarting it.

"You need to feel the excitement, the anticipation of turning over the cards," he said. He looked at Hemtwit. "It's exciting to turn over the next card. Is it a new one? Is it a match for the one you already have turned over? Is it a match for one you turned over earlier?" He smiled again. "Watch with me. You can't fail, you can't make mistakes, so let the excitement and anticipation flow through you while I work."

Hemtwit nodded and watched, the Captain reminding him repeatedly of how exciting it was to reach for a new card, the gratification and excitement of realizing that a match could be made, the flush of victory at randomly getting a match.

Pretty soon Hetmwit found himself caught up in the excitement. When he went back to his five by five board, the Captain watched, outwardly expressing excitement and anticipation, audibly groaning when a match didn't work out, but not in a way that made Hetmwit feel like he was a failure, but like the Captain was sharing in the minor setback.

After a few more games, including one that was six by six that the Captain had him take a moment to feel the excitement, slight bit of anxiety, and the anticipation of watching the cards slowly materialize, he leaned back. His fur was soaked with sweat and his underarms and his spine were soaked through his mechanics tunic.

"You did good, Number One," the Captain smiled. He patted Hetmwit on the back, careful of his strength.

"It is more enjoyable when you focus on excitement rather than how often you make a mistake," Hetmwit acknowledged.

"Of course it is," the Captain said. He looked at the analogue clock that used pointers to tell the time, the polished brass and wood gleaming in the lights of the Officer's Mess. "Well, it's rest period," he stood up. "Enjoy your relaxation period. I will see you again during work period."

Hetmwit nodded. "Thank you, sir. Rest well."

"You too, Number One," the Captain said.

After the Captain left, Hetmwit sat and stared at the table top.

He reached out, activated the smart surface, and selected the match game.

He set it to six by six with timing, dialed up a bowl of tasty-meats in sauce, and started playing.

-----

The Captain sat in the Captain's Throne on the bridge, panels deployed around him. He kept looking over the data and tapping icons, waiting for the new data, then tapping more.

Looking over the map of the ship, Hetmwit could see that the robots were all in the correct positions, all signaling they were ready. Hetmwit doublechecked the software and firmware loadouts and updates, then took a deep breath.

The insistence that each robot be loaded up with the programming for any nearby tasks, even if the tasks were already being done by a different robot, had seemed odd to Hetmwit.

But the Captain stated it was to ensure that in case of damage or other difficulties, there were multiple robots ready to take over for any robot rendered inoperative or that needed assistance.

Finally, Hetmwit turned around.

"Robotic servitors ready, Captain," he stated.

"Excellent, Number One," the Captain said. He gave a gesture. "Take your position, deploy your screens, and get ready."

Hetmwit nodded, moving over and sitting down. The restraining belts softly whirred as they moved into place.

My people don't trust things that are completely silent, Number One, that is why we often add sound effects to normally silent mechanisms. How can you trust something that is sneaky about whether or not it is operating or inoperative, the Captain had said. Suffer not the sneak to live.

"Ready, Captain," Hetmwit said, once he had his consoles on, configured correctly, and showing the data he wanted to watch over.

The Captain made a motion and the screen against the far bulkhead came on, as well as the large holotank in the middle of the command deck. Both of them showed the static filled bluish-white test pattern and gave out a soft hissing sound.

"Execute your orders, Number One," the Captain said.

Hetmwit nodded, tapping the big red icon.

He could see each of the robots come online. They ran diagnostics, first on themselves, then on their surroundings, then on the equipment they were assigned.

Icon notifications began to appear in the holotank and on the screen, all of them red. After a second or two "READY" appeared under each red rectangular icon.

It took nearly five minutes for the last robot to check in.

Hetmwit could remember trying to get the more advanced software to work right in the robots. While the computer stations and computing cores seemed to run software just fine, anything more complex than a series six algorithm seemed to just sit there, non-functioning, as if it wasn't receiving inputs.

There was no reason for it, as far as Hetmwit could determine.

So he had been forced to use weighted bias table difference engines to emulate low functioning virtual intelligences, mainly copied from the 'retro video game library' rather than high end Confederate code databases.

"All stations report ready," Hetmwit said.

"Send the orders," the Captain stated.

"Aye aye, sir," Hetmwit said.

Where before he would have been overcome with anxiety to the point he might have even curled up in a ball, now he took pressing the activation icon with excitement and anticipation.

Would programmed doctrine work?

Would his programming work?

Would his ideas and the Captain's ideas work?

If it didn't, what information would he discover in the failure?

He glanced at the Captain, who was leaned back in his command throne, watching the holotank with a relaxed posture.

The filled Hetmwit with relief. If there was an obvious problem that he had missed, he was confident that the Captain would have seen it.

The lights suddenly brightened slightly with a hum and the sound of high density capacitors charging.

"Emergency reactors have come online," Hetmwit said.

The Captain just nodded, changing the icons on his screens. Hetmwit knew it was to monitor power flow. Perhaps a power flow discrepancy might explain why high end software did not work if it emulated intelligence too deeply.

"Primary reactor is online," Hetmwit said.

"Power is holding steady, Number One," the Captain said after a moment. "Positive generation of 19 terrwatts."

"Logged, Captain," Hetmwit said.

"You are go for activating interior hull sensors," the Captain said.

"Activating," Hetmwit said.

The ship's internal sensors slowly went live, spreading from least important to most important. When Hetmwit had asked why they should be activated in reverse order, the Captain had told him that it would be safer to lose the sensors in the auxiliary emergency Lanaktallan fresher locker room than the sensors in the primary reactor containment chamber.

The map of the ship began to fill in with data.

"Internal sensors are at 96.23% operation. Maintenance servitors on the way to initiate diagnostics and repair," Hetmwit said.

"Status of emergency computer array one?" the Captain asked.

"Thinking wires, fuzzy logic, and heuristic systems are offline and air gapped," Hetmwit stated.

"Activate emergency computer array one," the Captain ordered.

This was the test. Without that core, the sensor arrays would not function. The local control nodes had virtual intelligence systems that refused to acknowledge any input, so would not control the sensors.

Hetmwit felt the anticipation and excitement. Even if it didn't come on, he was getting a wealth of data from the POST logs and diagnostics.

"Emergency Computer Core One reports no catastrophic, critical, or major errors and ready for activation," Hetmwit said.

This was it.

"Activate," the Captain said.

Hetmwit heard the core wind up, like an ancient platter drive.

It ran through diagnostics. Normally, it would try to take control of quite a few systems, but Hetmwit had carefully pruned its options via firmware and software until it only concerned itself with one system.

"Sensors report ready," Hetmwit said.

"Status of Emergency Computer Core Two?" the Captain asked.

"Ready."

"Activate."

Again, there was the sound of a platter drive winding up to speed.

"Core Two reports ready for Emergency Sensor Systems input, Captain," Hetmwit stated.

"Activate external passive sensors," the Captain said. Hetmwit felt slightly vindicated at the way the Captain leaned forward slightly.

"External passive sensors coming online," Hetmwit said. "External data inputs are reporting data flow. Data flow from external passive systems bypassing local software and firmware data sifting and analysis. Data flow directed to Emergency Computer Core Two."

There was a tense few seconds.

"Computer Core Two reports receipt of data inputs. Catagorizing and assigning tags," Hetmwit said.

"Status of Computer Core Three?" the Captain asked.

"Ready for input."

"Activate datafeed," the Captain said.

"Data threading..." Hetmwit said. This was another part that would normally have robust virtual intelligence systems and now just had IF/THEN trees and difference bias weight tables. "Data analysis started. Image sequencing starting."

"Status of Computer Core Four?" the Captain asked, even though Hetmwit knew the Captain could see it on his own monitors.

"Ready for input," Hetmwit answered.

The tension was filling him with excitement and anticipation rather than the dread he had normally experienced.

"Activate Core Four."

"Core Four accepting near object data. Beginning sorting."

"Put nearby object detection in holotank three," the Captain ordered.

"Roger, sir," Hetmwit stated.

Both Hetmwit and the Captain leaned forward as the screen showed a countdown. Then a blurry image.

It was mostly black, with a single blurred streak.

In the holotank, the icon for the DJ's Ice Cream Locker burned brightly. At a 33 degree angle and a 200 degree angle streaks appeared.

"Activating stellar navigation program," Hetmwit said.

He was not sure if it had been his idea or the Captain's idea to take the program normally in an infantryman's helmet, used for navigating by the stars, and use it to try to identify key navigation stellar objects, but either way, the stripped down, no-frills program had been loaded.

There was a blinking.

Rectangles appeared, filling with data as lines started appearing, moving to join the boxes to certain points inside the colorful streaks.

"I know where we are, now where are we?" the Captain said softly, staring at the screen.

After a long moment the computer spit it out. A fuzzy image of the galaxy.

Hetmwit groaned out loud, but managed to keep from putting his forehead on the console.

He began planning what he would have to do next.

"Now we know," the Captain said.

Dots were appearing on the near-object holotank. Dot after dot, with data streaming up.

The Captain stood up.

"We'll let the computers think, Number One," the Captain said. He motioned at the heavy armored airlock that led from the Flag Bridge. "Lets get something to eat while we think, exchange ideas, and commiserate."

Hetmwit nodded, getting up from his chair. He followed the Captain through the door.

Behind them, suspended in the holotank, was the image of the Milky Way galaxy.

The dot, representing the DJ's Ice Cream Locker, burned brightly.

Between two of the great arms, away from the spur.

With nothing for hundreds, thousands of light years.