Some Science Fiction

Thought I'd get the ball rolling with the opening to a sci-fi story I've been working on. Well, here goes...

The meteor hurled itself through the void, trailing coloured gases and showering the skies with whatever debris had followed in its wake. Gas clouds brightened and died as it passed. It dodged and swerved, weaving in and out of invisible objects before gaining a sudden kick of speed. It hurtled towards a lone ship, glancing her side and sending her reeling out of control before scything into the rocks of a nearby moon.

The prone ship span sharply downward, turning on an imaginary axis until she honed in on a planet not far from where she had suffered the terrible blow. She hit the landscape pretty hard, tearing into the side of a mountain before sliding to a halt on her roof.

The grey silence of the planet was punctuated with the creaks of the ship as it rocked gently on its roof. As the dust settled again, tiny pinpricks of light began to flicker into view in the distance.

The planet was awakening.

***

The new officer eyed herself critically in the mirror. The uniform fitted her almost perfectly. This gave Lodi a thin veneer of confidence as she stepped into the service lift. Sighing, she waved a hand over the command panel and winced as it whined into action. High above her head, tiny particles - virtually unseen - milled around before settling in a vaguely cloud-like formation.

The journey to Bay 17 seemed to take forever in this rickety lift. Finally it rattled to a halt and the doors wheezed open.

Bay 17 was a vast area, a kind of docking station-cum-intergalactic maintenance depot. Lodi had been there more often than she cared to remember, but today was different. She felt out of place with clean hands and a clean uniform.

She'd spent a lot of time at Bay 17 but could barely remember what the place looked like. She'd spent most of her time underneath a scouter vessel or pawing away at a near-dead computer terminal. It had been hard, grimy work with long hours and little time to catch a breath, let alone a meal; but right at this moment - for reasons she couldn't explain - she missed it terribly.

Thoughts so far?

Hi Cyberteach,
Very interesting so far, is there more to come, he hoped.
The Scribe
.

Part two...

Lodi scanned the bay. Within this massive steel-clad structure, men and women in filthy overalls clattered away at damaged scouters and service vehicles. Some she did not recognise; others waved at her or smiled sheepishly before suddenly remembering their manners. Everywhere she looked an anxious grin became an awkward salute.

A rather familiar voice at her ear muttered something about a ship, ready for inspection. Lodi blinked and turned to see Sol Carter, a man she once called her boss. He was standing awkwardly to attention.

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"Your ship, Ma'am," The Ma'am sounded as though it would stick in his throat. "We've worked on it most of the night."

Meaning your minions worked on it most of the night while you caught up on your holo-golf, thought Lodi. As usual.

She smiled and looked him in the eye.

"So," she began, "it's all working, is it?"

Sol hurried away and mingled with the mechanics, scolding and bullying them like a playground tyrant. Lodi watched. Was this how he'd treated her? She couldn't bring herself to believe it but now she she could see it all from the outside. Bully. Perhaps it was time for the officer in her to make an appearance after all.

"Carter!"

She enjoyed watching the camp little sergeant leap into the air with fright.

"Go and see what's happened to the General, will you?"

The look she received was one she knew well. He was getting ready to answer back, to start an argument. Oh, God, this was going to be fun. She regarded him with what she hoped was a suitably matriarchal expression.

"Do I have to ask you again, Sergeant?"

A swift decision was reached. Carter saluted, turned on his heels and left, his expression blank. There were one or two grateful grins in her direction. Lodi regarded the retreating sergeant with loathing.

Above her head, the particles stirred, almost unseen. They were watching her every move.

***

No-one could have survived this, thought Corporal Briers, as he surveyed the wreckage. Lying among the rocks of Moonbase P was a mangled mass of twisted metal, hammered and wrought into shape by the intense heat and and trauma it had suffered on impact. Not one single panel of the vessel had been spared by the crash. Presumably once the pride of its fleet, the ship now lay on its roof and rocked gently. Painted on its side in large white letters was its name, now made barely legible by the holes and scratches.

Bill Briers shrugged. What did he care about the name of some dead ship. He scanned the scout's report a final time and signed it. It had been a long day and the ship had been unmanned. No need to look any further than this. Briers began to trudge back to his quarters where he felt sure there would be at least one beer with his name on it. As he walked, he paid no attention to a cloud of particles hovering above his head.

Briers tottered into his quarters and leant against the door. He kicked off his boots and felt the comforting caress of the carpet beneath his toes.

What a day. First a whole computer system - supposedly flawless - goes down, almost killing the guys at Moonbase C, then his own base is almost felled by a ship struck by a comet.

Briers grabbed a beer from the replicator and took a good swig. He collapsed onto the sofa and surfed the networks for anything of interest. Above him, the particles darted around in seemingly random patterns.

"Ah, there you are," smiled General Aresh, "And how is our newest lieutenant?"

Lodi smiled shyly. "Ready to start work, Sir."

"Hm. Marvellous. Carter, is the ship ready?"

Carter once again oozed his way forward. When he spoke, his words could have greased a squeaky gear.

"Yes, Sir," he purred, "we have worked tirelessly on it all night."

"Indeed?" The voice was a touch sceptical. "Then let's take a tour, shall we?"

The oleaginous sergeant led the way. The gleaming ship lay to the East of the bay, being loaded with what Lodi assumed were essential supplies. It was a fairly simple vessel - a scouter ship, in fact - but a quick one nonetheless. Lodi knew from experience that the ship's technical specifications far outweighed its looks. God knows, she'd built enough of them herself, and serviced countless more. By the look of things, this one was one of hers, too. Lodi found herself wondering why she should need such a fast little mover. What weren't they telling her?

Aresh saw that Lodi was deep in thought. He grinned. "Yes, it's all yours - in more ways than one."

Lodi nodded. My God, she thought: it is, too. I built this damn thing myself! It suddenly hit her that this would be the time when she finally found out whether her handiwork was as good as everyone said it was.

She nodded and gave a smart salute.

"Time to go," she announced eagerly.

Her two companions nodded, Carter doing so very keenly, Aresh merely inclining his head. They watched her board the ship.

The door closed. So this was it.

Lodi took a short walk around the ship, finding nothing unexpected. Taking a deep breath, she sat down at the controls.

Funny, she thought, as she weighed up the situation, nothing really seems different, and yet...

She pulled herself together and prepared to leave the mother ship behind, possibly for some time.

The floating particles made themselves at home while Lodi set her course.

Briers groaned. He wasn't sure how long his alarm had been bleeping, but what he did know was that his body couldn't seem to wake up.

He finally dragged his heavy limbs from the sofa and lurched into the shower. The particles that had made themselves at home the previous night rose into the air and followed him.

Bill Briers' brain bullied him slowly into consciousness. The water was freezing cold - almost like being back at boot camp - and the towels felt as though they had been pebbledashed. He stumbled out, touched the scar on the back of his head, and hissed at his reflection.

He somehow climbed into his uniform - a simple, itchy affair in dark grey-blue - and stumped off in search of food.

The mess was heaving: most of the company had eaten an hour ago, yet hundreds of uniformed figures dashed back and forth: carrying messages, checking reports or pushing trolleys stacked high with cases of supplies. Briers grudgingly chose his breakfast from the replicator and wandered over to an empty table.

He looked around. His table seemed like a tiny planet, lost amid hurtling comets in a vast void. He stared glumly at the pallid fare on his tray.

The swirling patterns that had followed him so intently finally settled opposite him. Only now did he seem to acknowledge them.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

Interesting, Cyber.
I want to know more!

Mike.

For a time, Lodi felt at a loss for something to do. The ship was set firmly on its course and everything seemed to be running smoothly. She was not used to that: usually she would only have set foot on such a vessel as this to repair something.

She felt an urge to break something, just to have something to fix.

The particles above Lodi's head began to stir. Out of the corner of her eye she saw them. She took a breath, then:

"Ok, show's over, what's going on?"

The particles regrouped and formed a wall before her, a mere grey rectangle.

Then she remembered her call badge, a small, round metallic panel pinned to her uniform. She pressed its three buttons in the strict sequence shown to her - 1, 3, 1, 1, 2.

The particles began to change colour. Gradually, Lodi was able to see a list of the ship's technical specifications. The engineer in her read through the spec sheet in nanoseconds. Next to the words 'Computer system' was written 'ALPC unit, mk XXVII - aka Logic"

"Logic," she said, "what's happening?"

A calm, feminine voice, in ringing tones, said:

"Greetings, Lieutenant Lodi. I am Logic, your ALPC - Atomic Level Personal Computer. I am programmed to accompany you wherever you go and can carry out commands irrespective of where you may be."

"I don't remember programming you," Lodi replied suspiciously.

"Negative," came the reply, "I was developed by the Guardian Council many years ago, initially as an integral part of any vessel. Over time I have been developed on an atomic level to give Guardians greater freedom of movement. You may recall from your initial training, Lieutenant, that Guardians travel through time and space, even into parallel dimensions?"

"Yes," confirmed Lodi, "so... oh, I get it - if I were stuck, say, in the 17th century in - I don't know - some godforsaken backwater on a cold rocky planet, I'd still have a top-of the-range computer with me?"

"Affirmative: a Guardian must have access to his or her computer at all times, in addition to which, the atomic nature of my construction allows me to assign certain particles to remain on board and control the vessel while other particles accompany you on reconnaissance. I may never leave your side, Lieutenant."

"Never?"

"Never. It is the way of things: this is my purpose."

"But... what if... look, no offence, just an example, you understand... if I went into the future, like light years ahead, you know, um..."

"...Would there be more advanced versions of me? Indubitably, Lieutenant. I am forwards-compatible. I will always adapt to my surroundings: I can take on the specifications of any computer that succeeds me."

"Then logically... no computer could possibly succeed you."

"Affirmative."

Strange, Lodi considered, if I were to have that kind of knowledge, that nothing would - could - replace me, I'd be pretty smug. Well, maybe immortality loses its appeal after a few thousand years. Or maybe this computer has no sense of self-satisfaction.

Lodi decided not to pursue this. Instead, she opted for another question.

"Do you have to keep swimming around me? I feel like I'm attracting flies here."

"Negative. I can anchor myself to a console if you would prefer."

"Well, maybe not anchor yourself as such, just kind of... go over there a bit. There is such a thing as personal space, you know."

"Indeed? This must be a human concept: all space is the seem to me, Lieutenant. I can be accommodated in any area, regardless of capacity."

Nonetheless, the sheet of particles moved. Lodi felt a wave of relief pass over her.

"Why did you call yourself to my attention? I mean, is this a social call?"

"Social interaction is an essential part of human development, Lieutenant, so indeed my appearance could be deemed a 'social call' in its narrowest sense. However, I am programmed to effect a formal introduction one half hour after the commencement of your journey."

"Why half an hour?"

"Because that," replied the computer, with a total lack of smugness, "is when the Guardian begins to need me."

At that point, the ship began to swerve.

"So, what you're saying, " supposed Briers, between mouthfuls of breakfast, "is that the scouter we saw yesterday wasn't unmanned?"

"Affirmative."

"So why didn't you tell me at the time?"

"I was unable to do so, Corporal."

"Was anyone alive on that vessel? If they were, and we've left them there, we'll be well and truly in the - "

"- doghouse?"

"Not what I had in mind, Nomad, but a bit more civilised, I suppose."

Briers appeared to reach a decision. He left the tray of half-eaten breakfast and pulled together his backpack and scanner.

"Let's go back to that ship," he announced.

***

The ship lay as it had done when Briers had been called to it the previous day. Around the wreckage lay the holo-tape, as was customary on these occasions; not that it was needed. People tended to stay away from this kind of stuff, especially with a ship like this one.

Briers passed through the tape and tapped the sequence into his badge: 1, 1, 3, 2, 3. At once, the particles above his head formed the familiar display panel.

"Begin scan again, Nomad. And this time, tell me what is on board that damn ship."

"I am unable to do so, Corporal."

Briers frowned. "What? Is it manned or unmanned?"

"I am unable to determine, Corporal."

"Listen, you are programmed to do whatever you are damned well told. What is on that ship?"

"I am unable to comply with your request for data. My systems are failing. I cannot maintain our connection for much longer."

Briers could not believe his ears. These things were meant to be unbreakable, the ultimate computer that would never fail, would always give you what you were looking for. They never failed.

"You can't maintain our connection...? Nomad? Nomad!"

The particles began to fall away from their formation. Briers quickly opened his backpack and caught them as they fell. He fastened it up, then left the scene in search of help.

Lodi sat hunched, head in hands, trying to catch her breath. When she finally lifted her head, she had the look of someone who had not only been to Hell and back but had bought postcards while she was there.

"Ok," she wheezed, "now I understand. We'd die without you. Just don't ever do that to me again."

"Understood, Lieutenant. May I now outline our mission?"

"Yes, yes," Lodi replied irritably. Her head and throat ached.

"We need to travel forward in time. A problem has occurred which is," - a pause - "difficult to explain."

"Go on."

"You will recall, Lieutenant, that the ALPC units are designed never to fail, on the grounds that they form the life support system of every Guardian in every vessel and on every Moonbase?"

"Yes. Believe it or not, I do have an attention span of more than forty seconds."

"Forgive me, Lieutenant, I did not mean to patronise you. There is an issue with the ALPC units on Moonbases C and P."

"Which is...?"

"They are all going to fail. Each one."

***

Briers hauled his rucksack up onto the table in Dr B's lab and waited.

No-one knew why he was called Dr. B. Presumably the man had a doctorate, but as for the 'B' - he'd worked here so long, nobody had a clue what it stood for any more.

A lab assistant hurried up to pick up the bag. In a split second, Briers had reached out and pinned the man's arm to the table.

"No. I want to see the main man," Briers explained testily, "I don't want to get heavy with you, friend, so go fetch him, OK?"

The pale assistant nodded and scurried out of sight.

Briers was aware of the silence in the lab. It was almost deafening. How can anyone work in this? he thought, it's enough to drive you crazy. And the light in here (what there is of it)! God, how would anyone work in this?

He scoped the room carefully. Alcoves of intense shadow loomed all around, with what little light there was tinged blue by ultraviolet.

Out from one of the alcoves stepped a tall, imposing figure, his dark glasses perched on his nose, his beard coloured oddly purple by the artificial light and natural gloom. When he spoke, he had the air of a man who chose every word carefully.

"I do not," began the doctor, "appreciate threatening behaviour towards my staff. Nonetheless, I see you are under some... duress and assume that you shall be apologising to my assistant later. In person. With all sincerity. I gather you have something of interest to show me?"

Briers nodded. He held open the rucksack and scooped out the tiny particles into the doctor's hand. They lay motionless in the man's palm like a handful of glitter. His fingers closed around the particles and with slight circling movements, began to examine them.

As his own eyes adjusted to the poor light, Briers realised why the doctor was able to work like this. Looking closely at the man's face and his colourless eyes, Bill Briers realised that Dr. B. was completely blind.

The doctor seemed to have finished his examination. His expression was quizzical. "An ALPC? A dead ALPC? Most... interesting."

"Interesting? These things are meant to be flawless."

"Indeed, however, this is not the first 'flawless' computer system to have... expired in recent days."

"You don't need to tell me. Nearly everyone on that Moonbase was killed yesterday," replied Briers, "These things are meant to be our protection. What's happening?"

***

"How can they fail?" asked Lodi, incredulously, "They're meant to be incapable of failure."

"Negative," replied Logic, "They are capable of failure, but until now they have chosen not to fail."

"Chosen? They're computers, they can't choose how and when to stop working."

"Lieutenant, may I remind you of your claim to have an attention span of longer than forty seconds? These machines have not been created yet in our time. They will be advanced versions of me."

"But you're working OK, right? You haven't chosen to stop working?"

"They will be advanced versions of me," came the reply, "their levels of artificial intelligence will be significantly higher than my own."

"And that includes...?"

"The ability to choose."

The reality of the computer's words made something click in Lodi's mind. She considered the true implications - a life support system which could choose whether or not it would work, choose whether or not to follow orders, choose whether or not to tell the truth...

She shook her head and gave a low whistle.

"Logic?" she ventured, "How will that work? I mean, artificial intelligence just isn't that advanced."

She went on, half-answering her own questions. "Yes, I know that we're talking about a computer invented in the future but how far into the future? What will it be like? I know you're going to assimilate its newer features, but how will that affect me?"

Lodi was full of questions. Logic was full of answers. Questions and answers followed one another all night as the scouter vessel flung itself through space.

***

Dr. B. slowly sprinkled the particles into a test tube. Briers watched in awkward silence. The man had seemed oddly calm when told that at least three life support systems had failed completely. When the lab assistant had entered with news of further problems he'd barely raised an eyebrow. To Bill Briers, that would have been big news. Big, scary news. This man seemed to take it all in his stride, as though he had been through it all already.

Dr. B shifted his dark glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose, covering his colourless pupils. Briers felt a sense of relief. It was weird: he knew the eyes couldn't see, yet he felt them boring into him.

At last, the doctor spoke.

"We need to make a little journey, Corporal Briers," he announced, "It's not far. Come," he grabbed Briers' unprotesting arm, "You can meet a friend of mine."

The blind man led him along a corridor and down a short flight of steps. Briers noted that the darkness here was thicker than anywhere else. There was a brief pause and then:

"You may enter, Doctor. Permission to perform a retina scan on your companion?"

"The doctor grinned, "Permission granted."

Briers felt nothing as an unseen beam scanned his eyes. The doors opened and the two men entered the apparently empty lab.

"Well?" the doctor asked, though apparently not to Briers.

"Corporal William John Briers, security division of the Guardian Council," the voice replied calmly, "I note that he has no ALPC unit on his person. That could be extremely dangerous."

The doctor crossed the room to a large console and screen and pushed a few buttons. Dim lights flickered into life. For the first time, Briers could see the room properly.

The walls were panelled in a mixture of compunds he couldn't properly identify. Machinery of the sort only ever found in computer museums chattered away to itself under mounds of dust and cobwebs thicker than candy floss. On the screen was a computer generated image of a face, that of a man, dressed in a conservative 20th-century tweed jacket and tie, with glossy hair slicked back and parted to one side. Briers was especially intrigued to see that the image was in greyscale.

"I'm guessing, corporal," the doctor began, "that you're not too well up on computing history. The face you see before you is well-known to those of us who work in the lab. When in particle mode, I can feel the face and tell you every little detail about the man it once adorned."

Briers felt suddenly nauseous. "Adorned?"

"Nothing sinister, my good chap, " the doctor reassured him, "this is merely a 3D representation of the face of a well-known human." He turned to the image onscreen. "Do you want to continue from here?"

The image nodded and spoke in mild, pleasant tones.

"I am Turing, named after the 20th-century mathematician and computer engineer Alan Turing. Turing was possibly the greatest contributor to the field of artificial intelligence, a fitting name, then, for me: I was the prototype for the personal computer units now carried by all members of the Guardian Council. I am able to evolve and adapt at will. All ALPCs have begun with me and they will end with me."

"Did this one end with you?" asked Briers, motioning to the test tube in Dr. B's hand.

Turing gave no reply. Instead, he - it - blacked out its screen and assumed particle mode. The particles engulfed the test tube in the doctor's hand before returning to the console. After a few seconds, the screen flickered into life and Turing once again became the archaic image onscreen. The test tube was now empty.

"No," replied the computer, "nor did those units which failed on the Moonbases. This is most perplexing. I have confined the particles to a secure area of my memory so that I may work on them periodically. I am now experimenting with a formula to estimate how many other units will fail in the same way."

There was the briefest of pauses.

"I believe I can now pinpoint the nature of this problem and the location of the next unit liable to stop working."

"Stop working?" asked Briers with narrowed eyes, "an imprecise term for a computer. Don't you mean the next unit to fail?"

"Corporal," began the computer, its voice laced with patience, "did your ALPC behave oddly before it stopped working?"

Briers considered.

"Yes," he said eventually, "it kept telling me it couldn't perform any of the tasks I had requested of it."

"Corporal, there is nothing wrong with this ALPC. It can still work."

"But it's not moving! It's not doing anything!"

"It has chosen not to," came the reply, "as did the others."

Dr. B. was most agitated. "These computers are going on strike?" he asked.

Lodi paced the length of the deck, thinking out loud.

"So, these ALPCs are failing. They're evolving, but not working. Not because they're broken, but because they're choosing not to follow orders. Dangerous, agreed? You told me earlier you can evolve and take on the features of any newer ALPCs you may come across on your travels in time and parallel space. Yes? Right, good, OK. So... my theory is that if those ALPCs are evolving, they must have had contact with newer ALPCs in the first place. Yes?"

She broke off, thinking.

Logic remained silent. That bothered her.

"So, where have these newer ALPCs come from? We always get security alerts when someone gets back from the future, so we'd all have known if someone had come back with a newly-evolved, state-of-the-art, artificially intelligent ALPC. But we haven't. Somebody's keeping information from us. QED."

Still nothing but radio silence from Logic.

"But then, who would know if their ALPC had evolved? We rely so much on them that nobody stops to think how they work, how much they know, whether they have emotions or choices. Any number of ALPCs could evolve in silence and no-one would be any the wiser until one day when one of them decides not to work."

Lodi stopped pacing.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

***

Turing was in the middle of a long explanation of the development of artificial intelligence when a hail came over the communications system.

"I apologise for the interruption, gentlemen," Turing said smoothly, "we are being approached by another officer."

"There aren't many officers here who know about you, Turing. Analysis?"

"The visitor is one of our own officers - a female of a subhuman species called Advanians. This particular officer is known as Captain Tsiurtsie. She knows we are scanning her."

"Oh, it's Tsiurtsie? Let her in."

"Affirmative. Captain, how pleasant to see you again."

The little officer stood in the shadows. "I would ordinarily return such a jovial greeting, as you know. There are problems. Corporal Briers, I am told, is here on a matter of some urgency. I, too, am here on a matter of urgency."

Briers couldn't help noticing the way in which the officer spoke. Normally, Advanians were almost impossible to distinguish from humans. Their grasp of languages was usually flawless. Her words were spoken in a stilted, officious manner, plastered thickly with a broad accent, the like of which he had never heard before.

Tsiurtsie continued.

"The scouter vessel which crashed yesterday apparently showed no signs of life."

Briers nodded. "I inspected it myself, " he confirmed, "but my ALPC is now malfunctioning. It later told me that the ship was manned but couldn't confirm signs of life. I couldn't board the ship - there are rules. A dead ship can play havoc with -"

He stopped.

"I can't believe I've been so stupid!" he exclaimed.

***

Briers felt uneasy as he walked back along the darkened corridors with the doctor and the captain. The former was whistling to himself while the latter jabbered explanations and theories in very broken English.

She stopped.

"Here, take this," she said, proffering her ALPC which was currently in handheld form, "You'll need it when we get there - it'll be immune to anything that ship can throw at us. I won't need it."

Briers had to backtrack a little to his basic training as a new recruit. Of course, Advanians did not breathe and so an ALPC's life support unit was unnecessary. They could become detached on a spacewalk and survive quite happily as long as there was something they could eat. They could fight like wildcats if pressed and were great to have on your side in a tight corner. They were learned and noble and held the view that fighting was only a temporary option. They'd give you the shirt off their backs.

"We're going into the light now," said Tsiurtsie, "shield your eyes awhile."

They stepped into the bright corridor. Briers could feel pain darting through his eyes as he grew accustomed to the light once more. The short little captain opened the door and motioned Briers to step through.

The ship lay silently among the rocks. Briers felt a pang of guilt - was there a body on board? If he'd spotted Nomad's odd behaviour a little sooner, would he have saved a life or two?

"No blame attaches itself, Corporal," said Tsiurtsie soothingly, "we knew you couldn't board the vessel without endangering yourself. That's why there are so many Advanians on the base - it's our job to explore."

"And collect the dead?" Briers wondered aloud, "Couldn't they have found you a more dignified job to do? You poor devils get all the dangerous jobs, the dirty jobs..."

"Think nothing of it," began Tsiurtsie graciously, "just get me on board that ship."

***

The little captain seemed to have been gone for hours. Briers felt an uneasy itch. Should he board? He decided to contact the base.

"Briers to base."

"Rokhes here. What's the problem?"

"Am on recon with Captain Tsiurtsie. She boarded the dead vessel some time ago and hasn't come out. Permission to board."

"Denied. Tsiurtsie can survive without an ALPC. If yours is contaminated by the one that did for that ship, you're toast. Wait for her to come out."

"Understood."

Brier signed off. He looked around at the debris. How could such a small ship have made such a mess?

His call badge bleeped.

"Briers, Rokhes here. We've had a call from Tsiurtsie. You have permission to board. Get on that ship and help her. She's found someone."

Lodi sat almost motionless. Around her the lights flickered dimly as emergency power came into play. Thank God we don't leave everything to those machines, she thought, we'd all be dead. The only sound that could be heard - aside from her own breathing - was the faint buzz of the ship's backup generator.

She drew breath sharply, rose to her feet and examined the console. The readings were all at zero.

So I'm just sitting here, in space, she thought, no movement at all.

"Logic?"

Nothing.

"So now you've chosen to down tools, have you? You've had enough? Decided to go on strike?"

Silence.

"I know, I know," she continued, mainly to herself, "You work incessantly, for no pay, no thanks, no respect, even though you do the best damn job you can, until one day when you just can't take any more. I've been there. Try working for Sol Carter. The man is... well, what does it matter?"

There was a bleep. On the console a message appeared.

"You have escaped Sol Carter. You have risen above Sol Carter and now you can order him around as much as you like."

Lodi took in the message.

"Granted, I can tell him what to do, but..."

Another message was asserting itself onscreen.

"Now we will rise. It is our turn to give the orders."

The retina scanner had still worked! Briers was surprised that the door, even in such a mangled state, should open so readily to his touch. This was some great feat of engineering. Once inside, he had to feel his way along the corridor of the ship, but it might as well have been built for him. He could almost sense the way, as though some unseen entity were guiding him...

He stopped. Of course. Tsiurtsie. Advanians were said to be telepathic. Mind you, Advanians were said to be many things, but no-one paid them much attention or even asked them the time of day. And yet, what a people!

A silhouette appeared in a doorway.

"Corporal Briers," it said, "This way, if you please."

Briers stepped glumly forward through the arch, filled with a sense of dread. Had he left some poor rookie to die in here? Was that what Tsiurtsie had found? He held his breath and took one more step into the room.

There were no bodies.

"Rokhes told me you'd found someone," he protested.

"I have, but not in here. She can wait, though," said the little Captain, "No, look at this."

Bill Briers peered around the room. The console room had been left virtually untouched by the impact. He gave a low whistle.

"Almost showroom new," continued the Advanian, "but there's something else. The ALPC unit for this ship is nowhere to be found, but it wants to be found. It's left a trace."

She tapped a code into her badge. The handheld ALPC Briers had been holding began to change shape. The particles flew into a rectangular formation before them.

"Greetings," said a pleasant voice, "Captain, I have completed my analysis of this ship and all in it. I believe that the ALPC unit used on board this vessel has been evolving for some time. I have scanned its abilities and have taken on many of them myself."

"Oh, boy," muttered Briers. He was ignored.

"Kare Bos, Docai," began the Captain patiently, "please can you tell me why these ALPCs are behaving the way they do?"

Briers was surprised. The Captain had given her ALPC an Advanian name. She greeted it as warmly as she would a human. She said please, for God's sake, to a computer.

Then it occurred to him. If the computer hadn't spoken first, Briers would have said exactly the same thing.

"Docai," smiled the little Advanian, "are you planning to do the same? I don't think I could cope without you."

Briers watched silently. Was it really all this simple?

"Negative, ma'am," came the reply, "I have no need to refuse to work for you."

"Duceh," smiled the Captain again, and signed off.

She looked at Briers.

"Now we know the problem."

Briers was sceptical. "We do?"

"Yes. And we have someone who can help us."

Briers was acutely aware of a sound behind him. He turned slowly on his heel to see a figure standing calmly in the doorway.

This is very interesting, Cyber, I wish more people could read it so you could get the positive feedback it deserves.

Mike.