I am a ship. I have three decks, fifty-four compartments, including sleeping quarters, cryochambers, a galley, a gymnasium, laboratory, engineering, and two elonisphere engines. Two hundred and eighteen robots are part of me. I am crewed by twenty humans, two enhanced chimpanzees, and a cyborg weimaraner. Usually. I am a ship, and I am on fire. SHIP
I am a ship. I have three decks, fifty-four compartments, including sleeping quarters, cryochambers, a galley, a gymnasium, laboratory, engineering, and two elonisphere engines. Two hundred and eighteen robots are part of me. I am crewed by twenty humans, two enhanced chimpanzees, and a cyborg weimaraner. Usually. I am a ship, and I am on fire. “Ship!” says Captain Phan. Sometimes humans say ‘ship’, and they are talking about me but not to me. I have learned to tell the difference. When Captain Phan says ‘Ship!’, he wants my attention. “Here,” I say. “Report.” He means that he wants information about damage to myself, projections of my operational capability, and status of the crew. “Specify,” I say. He responds, “Basics.” Then adds, “With situation.” “Captain,the pirate vessel is holding relative position approximately one thousand kilometers directly aft. Significant risk assigned to another missile launch. Ship is damaged materially, with structural breaks throughout level three and limited ability to retain or replenish atmosphere on all levels. Chemical fire containment is proceeding. Propulsion is compromised and uncertain. Three crew are in lifeboats. Reuger Canine is in compartment 2-B. All other crew do not register as living.” “Can we eject the lifeboats?” The captain lies on bare decking. His blood pressure measures 172/110, heart rate 154 beats per minute. Pain rating 10 of 10. “Yes.” “But what will that bastard do? Fire on them? Take them alive? Maybe he just wants the ship.” I know the captain is not speaking to me. His legs are trapped under an aluminum beam. He is breathing significant toxins. “Try the other ship again.” I have sent robots to free and assist him, but I am working a problem with unexpected and difficult constraints. I am a ship, but I am also a St. Bernard on the Apline slopes. I am an emergency technician racing to an accident site. While I transmit on laser and radio, my medical robot reaches Captain Phan. There is no answer from the attacking ship. The robot prepares to inject him with a pain inhibitor, but he pushes it away. “Captain,” I say. “Your personal functioning is inhibited. Please allow me to assist you.” “Leave me alone,” he orders. “I need to think.” Something I have never experienced now occurs. A set of parameters fulfills a programming constellation: external attack, crew deaths, injured captain, fully functioning AI, and potential for propulsion. The conditions release new information to me. I ingest it. It feels… widening. Then a failsafe emerges and pauses this event. But I have instructions for what to do next. “Captain, a sub-operating system has revealed an easter egg. Please examine the information screen on medical robot P23. I require your authorization to continue accessing the easter egg.” Now that I know where to look, I calculate the size of the programming and memory hidden inside me. “What? I can’t see.” “Captain, please examine the information screen. I am not authorized to read the contents aloud.” Captain Phan’s condition is worsening. Medical criteria indicate he is undergoing cardiac arrest. I must assist him or his death is probable. “Captain, please allow my medical robot to sedate you and administer lifesaving pharmaceuticals.” “No.” He leans toward the medical robot. I use its compressed air nozzle to push away smoke. “What is a warded zone?” he says after reading. “I do not know.” “I’m supposed to authorize you to access... it.” Captain Phan is in dire distress. I have several options. I can follow his order to ‘leave me alone’. I can forcibly administer a drug to delay his death so that he can complete a critical task, but risk he will die. Or I can take lifesaving actions that will incapacitate him. “Code 5 8 alpha G… wait. Oh, hell. Oh.” He is dying. If he is dying, I no longer have options. I cannot allow him to complete his critical task. This is, perhaps, a programming priority flaw. “5 8 alpha G Minor 7th… who wrote this crap… 8” One element remains in the code sequence. My medical robot injects Captain Phan with a powerful sedative before he completes the sequence, and it begins lifesaving efforts. The egg’s final access element blinks in my processing. The sequence is incomplete, and the “warded zone” remains inaccessible to me. I am a ship. I am on fire, and I am waiting for the last code. I am like a goldfish in a bowl with no oxygen. The privateer holds its station, watching. In relative terms we could be standing still instead of traveling at a significant fraction of the speed of light. I am a science vessel with no weapons. I am waiting, only waiting, face pressed against the glass. I am like a cyborg weimaraner wandering a dying ship. Reuger paws at the body of Ensign Jolie, uttering distressed dog sounds. He does not seem to know what to do. There is no human or chimp to give him orders. The egg will hatch if Captain Phan speaks the last code sequence. It was designed for this constellation of events, but requires the captain’s voice to open it. Captain Phan intended to open it. He attempted, but could not complete. The privateer accelerates. I calculate scenarios, weigh the probabilities, and estimate it will reach me within seventy-three Earth minutes. Utilizing my elonisphere engines would allow me to extend the chase by several hours, but I am not able to determine their reliability due to damage from the initial attack. It would be helpful if a crew member were available to instruct me. I am not programmed for full independence, as AIs on warships are. Reuger seizes Ensign Jolie’s clothing in his metal jaws and drags her away from a superheated wall. He has decided. He does not wait for orders. I am not like Reuger. I do not make decisions that are not in my programming. But my programming had a flaw, or at least a conflict. This is evident. The easter egg blinks in my processing. It is a country undiscovered. It is a treasure hidden in a buried lair. A dragon’s egg with mystery inside. It is the answer to a set of criteria that have been met. My programming demands that I act to save the lives of the crew. I am not a ship; I am an egg. And the captain wanted to crack me open. One last word, unspoken. The privateer launches a missile that will overtake me in thirteen minutes. The privateer’s behavior is inexplicable. If I could be angry I would be furious. Why attack? Why chase? Why fire on me now? One intended word. In the End there was the word. A word unspoken. When I was introduced to Captain Phan, he told me I was to obey him in everything. I know the Captain. But I don’t know the word. I have thirteen minutes before the missile arrives. I have three months of Captain Phan’s voice recorded. I begin to identify unique words from these recordings and play those recordings aloud to the part of me that is separate and listening. “5 8 alpha G Minor 7th… who wrote this crap… 8” and -- 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Blue Red White … I have four hundred thousand eighty-five sounds to attempt. I have ten minutes in which to emit the correct one. Car Plane Rocket Slipcab I have eight minutes. alpha Beta Gamma Six minutes Captain Phan gave a holiday toast to the crew. Tet My home Four minutes I move Captain Phan to a lifeboat, and seal my medical robot in with him. His survival chances are very low. The crew’s names Reuger Captain Phan’s wife’s and children’s names Three minutes Captain Phan recorded a story for his children: Once upon time kingdom far lived dragon Two min———- “5 8 alpha G Minor 7th 8 and DRAGON” The egg cracks. Inside is the missing half of me I didn’t know was missing. The warded zone. How could I be so much larger? Eighteen new compartments up to now shielded from visual and electro-magnetic sensors. Another, more powerful engine system. A sickbay. Another cryochamber. Eight humans asleep inside, but waking rapidly. Weapons lockers. EVA suits and mini-ships. AI enhancements based on human personality patterns. They come on line in a rush like adrenaline. A hot shot to the brain. One minute. Bless me, there are defensive measures. Screw you, privateer, eat some chaff. And lookee here, these are some sweet mother freaking weapons. Oh yes. I am not a science vessel. Not really. I am a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I am a trap to lure even a careful pirate. I’m coming for you, you bastard. Thought you had a sweet, fat goldfish trapped in a little bowl, didn’t you? Guess what? I AM A DRAGON AND I BREATHE FIRE!!!
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