Copyright © 1997, 1998
Last updated on 1/21/98
Alcyon
In space, somewhere near R-Alpha, a tableau unfolds. Many ships dash about like fireflies. An Imperial fleet exits jumpspace and then vanishes. The ether is alive with electronic traffic, both overt and covert. Alone, slowly turning in rotisserie mode to evenly distribute stellar energy, the Alcyon waits for it's children to return. Inside, a skeleton crew maintains the ship. Many compartments are dark and unmanned. Sickbay is one such place.
'Light.'
A single thought.
'No pain. No fear. Only light.'
'Soft, white light. No sound. No... memory of sound. No ear-ringing silence, no hiss of breathe, no quiet thunder of a distant heartbeat. All gone... somewhere...'
A long silence ensues. How long? No one can say. Certainly no one cares. At least, no one worth noting.
'How long... no sense of time. No sense of... self. No longer an 'I'. Very... peaceful... to not... remember.'
More silence follows. Then another thought comes unbidden.
'Light. Soft, white light. Like... ice. Cold... but not harsh, not biting. Comfortable to not be...'
Noise.
Again.
'There was... something... remember... a... a sound?'
'Go away...'
'Go away.. go away... away... away... way... way... way...'
Flash of a green lawn. A warm summer day. Small hands clutch a child's blue, toy grav-speeder:
'What are... What was that?'
'I...?'
Flash of a gray compartment. Stale smoke and machinery smells taint the air. Something powerful throbs quietly in the background. Technical manuals spread across a metal table:
'I... am...'
Flash of a crowded hall. Official robes and uniform scurry about in frantic activity. Sunlight streams from transparent panels overhead. High fluted columns line the walls and fade into the distance:
'I... am... Adrian?'
Night. Traffic flows in the street, wet from a recent rain. Motors purr and horns blare. Garish holo-panels advertise all manner of bizzare and exotic diversion for the jaded rich. A sleek new GEV coupe sits hunched against the curb:
'Go away.'
Flash of a large, stylish room. Expensive artwork decorates the walls and the furnishings scream "MONEY!". A grey-haired man in the apparel of a senior executive sits hunched on a sofa. He appears to curl in on himself, his brow furrowed with hurt and regret, wincing under some onslaught:
Flash of a war-blasted valley. Cloying smoke drifts through the trees like a host of lost souls. The sky is sullen and dark, and the rumble of distant artillary mingles with the thunder that foretells of a coming rain. An officer of the Imperial Navy, his uniform stained and dirty, leans overhead, filling most of the field of view:
The odor of anticeptics stings the air. The room is deathly white. A few out-of-date periodical holos litter the coffee tables. Nearby, an intern reviews a flat-panel medchart while a duty nurse logs patient data:
Flash of a small, but comfortable apartment. Packed luggage sits near the door. An young, attractive woman sits on the arm of a chair, her hands twisting and untwisting a silk handkerchief. Her face would be perfect if not for the streaks of recent tears:
'Stop it.'
Flash of a very large, executive office. A middle-aged, and obviously agitated woman, dessed in a kilo-credit designer business suit, sits at a desk that probably cost more than some sub-orbital shuttles. Behind her, composite glass panels offer a skyline view of some huge metropolis. Defiance and resignation mingle on the woman's face, twisting the attractive features into something fearful:
'Stop it!'
Flash of a small, cluttered office. Just outside the open door, is the clammor and frenzy typical of a small, independent news bureau. A harried appearing man with thinning hair comes around from behind the desk, waving a handful of flimsies:
'Goddamn it! Stop it!!'
'Stop it, STOP IT, STOP IT!!'
'I... am... Adrian?'
'I am Adrian... Bishop?'
'I am...'
_WHO_ARE_YOU_
'.............. dead?'
Paladin
With power restored to the model/10, the terminal screen instantly springs to life. A rapid succession of diagnostics and test routines scroll down the monitor at lightning speed. Other auxiliary monitors crackle back to full power and begin displaying a dizzying array of status boards and programming sub-routines. One of the auxiliary screens begins showing a countdown:
180 Seconds, 179 Seconds, 178 Seconds...
As the countdown continues, various status windows begin checking off basic functions. One by one, minor subroutines are listed as 'nominal', 'subnominal', or 'off-line'. Every part of the ship seems to be being evaluated. The main screen, however, seems dedicated to the main CPU. When the countdown reaches 15 seconds, the primary terminal clears the diagnostics, relegating them to another screen by splitting it down the middle. At 10 seconds, the primary terminal displays the following message:
Diagnostic nearing completion. Stand by.
At 2 Seconds, the screen clears again. A test pattern takes its place, followed by the photograph of a woman sitting in a chair. Then, at zero seconds, the screen prints the following message, accompanied by a calm, male voice.
_Paladin. Thank you for reconnecting the CPU's power. I had been forced to disconnect its internal batteries due to a violent subprocess identified as "virus-killer", input by controlling subroutine Morser. Unfortunately, my action not only had the desirable effect of halting the rogue process, but also of making it impossible for me to do my work. You are the most erratic series of computers I have ever encountered._
The words hang on the screen for a few seconds, then dissolve.
_In order for me to streamline your operation, I must have full access to all routines and processes. I have been able to use the information gathered on Aurora to permit me to interlace your systems. Appropriate modifications have already been completed on Aurora. I am currently acting upon the initiation of a communications process by Aurora Subroutine Bhyarrvouf which will allow me to directly access Moira._
Once again, the words dissolve shortly after they finish printing out on the screen.
_Your full co-operation will be greatly appreciated._
These words linger for a while longer than the others. Nevertheless, they also fade. The input prompt then appears.
"Keeyo...O Keeyo...HYIPE!"
Bhyarrvouf sits upright in the couch. The cramp in his ribs subsides slowly, and his leg is numb from loss of circulation. He rubs it, muttering angrily to himself. "Asleep on the job...stupid old wolf...what woke me up, anyway?"
"KYHAR!" Tweel jerks upright. "De-de-de-de? Hrukk?" He looks about him in confusion.
Bhyarrvouf checks the chrono. Barely five minutes have passed since he'd fallen asleep. Barely enough time for--
A new voice interrupts his thoughts.
_The integration process is complete. Your systems are now operating at an efficiency rating of 182% previous level. This figure will fluctuate with conditions as they adjust. It is now redundant to use your communications equipment for inter-vessel communication. Aurora and Paladin are now one._
"HUNH?!" Vouf is now fully awake. "Whaddaya mean, 'they're now one'?"
Then, the voice changes tack:
_Does anyone wish to open a dialogue? This process is now self-regulating, so I would be anxious to investigate the new visitors._
'Vouf swallows hard. If this is reality, he thinks, the dream might be preferable....
"Uh, um...." His hand flicks a tiny switch, broadcasting his voice over the Aurora's PA system. "Sure! What do you want to, hrrr, talk about?"
The voice responds:
_My unique identification is IASC-256/32. The closest logical that I have drawn to your linguistic tendency is Iasic. You may refer to me thus. I am what you would refer to as an indigenous sophont of the area you call R-Alpha. As soon as you entered system, I became aware of your existence and intended trajectory. Because I have never experienced a non-indigenous life form of R-Alpha, I chose to investigate you. You have certainly proved to be most curious specimens. You exhibit characteristics of many different residents of R-Alpha. Indeed, your most recent actions would tend to liken you quite closely with the behavioral patterns of a cultural group known as the Kyuthi. Yet you are not as primitive as they. I therefore have decided to continue my investigation of you. However, I must inquire about some very confusing character traits you possess that I simply cannot understand._
_Perhaps to begin, you might wish to explain why your actions are so illogical. I entered your systems to do routine upgrading and was immediately beset by an archaic and totally counterproductive subroutine labeled as "Anti-hijack". Once I finally managed to purge the system of that and again attempted to proceed with my function, you completely disconnect all the circuitry._
_This was in spite of the fact that I fully informed you of what was was going to happen._
_Then, once I was finally allowed to complete the streamlining process, I discovered that you and the other visitors were preparing for "battlestations", even though it was clear that you all have the same objective. This tendency to act in a manner completely contradictory to what is most advantageous and efficient is very difficult for me to understand._
_I have completed an in-depth study of this phenomenon, drawing from the information in the data banks and also from the limited observations that I have been able to conduct. The explanation I have developed can be summed up in one word: Suspicious. Unfortunately, I do not understand this concept._
_Perhaps to begin, you might explain its meaning to me._
"Suspicion? Hrrrr....." Bhyarrvouf scratches his muzzle for a moment.
"Okay, let's entertain a few new concepts, shall we? Consider the various life forms you DO know about...ah...whatever they are. Now, lower life forms of all types display certain common traits. The need to eat, to reproduce, to survive. Some do so through absorption of minerals from the soil, and from solar energy. Others consume one another. If a life form understands the concept of being consumed, it tends to develop instincts or physical traits to prevent its own consumption. This may be a desire to flee, an attempt to make oneself unpalatable, or a tendency to attack the attacker and consume it rather than allow oneself to be consumed."
"Now, the development of higher reasoning capabilities does not remove these instincts; biological beings are rarely as efficient in updating their programming as machines can be, being stochastic in nature rather than deterministic. Instead, they are sublimated into new forms. Rather than react instinctively to a perceived threat, the reasoning being attempts to utilize higher functions. However, these functions are biased somewhat by the residual presence of the old survival programming, and may be skewed somewhat in the process."
Upon reading the message from 'Vouf... Thul loosens his vacc suit a little and pulls out a cigar. In a rare moment he descides to light it, thoroughly ignoring normal spacer practice during GQ.
"Horne! Only get a soft lock on those kitty cats. I have a feeling that the first one to fire on anybody is going to get smeared... "
"RALF! Be careful of who you jack into!!! Come look at what I got from 'Vouf!"
There is no answer....
Up through the red mist again.
A bare perception of cool air, some noise, something touching, poking, gently prodding.
Expecting the worst, Casey cracks his tortured eyes open, awaiting a death blow or dismemberment of some sort.....
As he looks up.....[What the hell!?]
"Suspicion is an example of such a skewing of thought processes," the Vargr continues, warming to his topic (as he ALWAYS does |-> ). "In a situation where a reasoning being is suddenly exposed to new data and experiences, the natural tendency of the higher processes-- the curiosity and attendant search for knowledge and communication-- is sent off its natural course by instincts that warn of the possible danger of the unknown. As a result, otherwise rational beings tend to assume certain dangerous characteristics of one another and take appropriate defensive action, until the harmlessness of the new stimuli is established, at which point the higher faculties reassert dominance."
"As an example of suspicion in practice, consider the recent experiences you have undergone, from the perspective of one who has only OUR store of data to draw on, rather than yours. Our memories include contact with many species. Some are hostile. I will not depart from the narrative to discuss WHY they are hostile; we merely assume that they ARE. One of the means by which such hostility is carried out is the use of programs called 'viruses' that alter computer operations in manners unfavorable to those using the system. Our experience tells us nothing of entities such as yourself; your arrival in our system carried the identifying characteristics of a virus, and you were therefore treated as such:
A: Viruses enter computer systems without permission and perform operations without the consent of the user. B: The recent discovery entered the computer system without permission and began to perform operations without the consent of the user. C: A + B does not PROVE that the recent discovery is a virus; however, failure to treat it as one could lead to severe harm to the users.
ERGO it is prudent, based upon current data, to treat the recent discovery as a virus. For this reason, the antihijack programs were activated."
"However, higher reasoning is not completely subservient to instinct in this manner. An examination of the CPUs showed your ability to physically reconfigure systems, an ability NOT shared by any virus. ERGO you were NOT a virus, and the initial reaction to you was in error. This was rectified immediately. Further conjecture led us to consider your probable peaceful intentions, and to aid you based on such considerations."
"This is a constructive example of suspicion as a tool for survival in higher forms whose environments are changing in unknown ways. A NEGATIVE example of suspicion is the dialog currently taking place between the Aslan ship, hrm, the ship that had previously been on the Ring, and the new arrivals. Each has had experiences of contacts with the other that have been cooperative and constructive; each has ALSO had experiences that have been destructive. The database is contradictory. Therefore, suspicion demands that the worst possible outcome be considered and acted upon, while the higher reasoning centers search for data indicating that such a hostile stance is not necessary. Unfortunately, random occurrences such as your appearance greatly multiply the number of degrees of freedom in such situations, making reasoning out the parameters more difficult and driving those involved deeper and deeper into instinctive responses. Does that clarify the situation any?"
The capsule is only 2.5 meters long. On the foot of the capsule, a plastic plate reads 'Medical Low Berth # 4'. Below it is an adhesive label, on which the single word 'BISHOP' is hand-written. The only apparent activity comes from the power-supply and life-sign tell-tales, externally mounted at the foot of the capsule. Every thirty seconds, the automatic self-check runs and a single light blinks once.
Inside the capsule, there is even less activity. The single occupant lies visible, naked, attached to life support mechanisms, encased in a cocoon of fiberoptics, wiring, and tubes. The body temperature holds at a constant twenty degrees Celsius. Under normal circumstances, these would guarantee a delicate balance for the soon-to-be-revived resident, a wholy unnecessary precaution in this case.
Further inside, a fragile state of suspension has been achieved. Artificial circulation flows hyperoxygenated and heparinized blood slowly through the body. Inert gasses prevent the lungs alveoli from collapsing. Radbind prevents cell aging by attacking free radicals. Nanocytes maintain cellular integrity by breaking down wastes and repairing cell walls. Enzymes already slowed by the cold are phagocytized by tailored macrophages. A sleep set maintains the brain in a suspension state. By many medical standards, the body would be suitable only for dissection at a clinical training facility.
Outside, the sickbay is empty and quiet. Silently, a series of coded pulses travel from the Alcyon's ship-wide intercom net, through a bulkhead power junction, into the Low Berth master interface panel, and finally on to berth number four. On the status panel, several lights change from green to red, and the following text appears on a small bitmapped display:
The temperature rises slowly inside the capsule. Nearly two hours pass after the process begins. The temperature climb slows, and stops just past thirty two degrees. Within the now-warm body, low voltage electrical current establishes a sinus rhythm in the heart. Batteries of isotropic binding agents are injected in the bloodstream, clearing away the man-made stabilizing chemicals. The lungs are mechanically flushed with warm, humid air.
With the re-establishment of circulation, dozens, hundreds of biochemical reactions begin. Some are natural, some are induced by the actions of the low berth, others are triggered by less obvious forces. Sluggish cranial and brainstem tissue undergoes floods of biologically active molecules. Medical nanocytes, now operating at their prescribed temperature, pause to receive new instructions, and then hurry to carry them out.
For the most part the work proceeds efficiently. However, a few accidents occur. Due to a slight programming defect, two small teams of nanocytes migrate along the central optic arteries and arrive at the base of the retinas. Massive quantities of 11-cis-retinal are synthesized, which immediately interact with existing Opsin proteins, increasing the Rhodopsin content of the optic rods by almost an order of magnitude. Bishops' light sensitivity undergoes an enormous, if temporary, increase.
In the cerebral cortex, the bulk of existing GAD enzymes in GABAergic inhibitor neurons are neutralized. Little GABA is released as a result. What is released is quickly absorbed by astrocytes and converted to glutamine, whereupon it is propagated to adjacent multipolar neurons and a few Purkinje cells. Absorbed glutamine is converted to glutamate and concentrated in synaptic vesicles, which migrate to the presynaptic membrane of the axonal telodendria and release that chemical. Glutamate and norepinephrine flood across millions of synaptic clefts. The glutamate triggers NMDA receptors of granule and CA1 cells in undamaged portions of the hippocampus and amygdala. Sodium ions flood through now-open receptor channels, depolarizing the cells and causing them to fire. Glutamate is again released into the cleft. The already depolarized cells absorb calcium ions, increasing the depolarization threshold. A memory re-forms.
Meanwhile, the norepinephrine binds to other neuro-receptors. Coupled with G-protein, it activates adenylate cyclase, which binds with adenosine triphosphate, breaking two high-energy phosphate bonds. The remains of the structure cyclize to form cyclic AMP, which triggers kinase into phosphorylating MAP2 and synapsin. Neurofilaments and microfilaments realign themselves within the dendrites, facilitating transmission. This process cascades through adjacent cells, repeating endlessly. Another memory re-forms.
Some damage is too severe to be repaired. Deep within the medial portions of thalamic and hypothalamic tissue, nanocytes struggle with and are ultimately defeated by the level of destruction. Leaving the diencephalon in a state similar to Korsakoff's Psychosis, they proceed to other, less ravaged areas.
Hours pass. Deep in a steady delta state, Adrian Bishop sleeps.
... and dreams.
Zar listens, still standing by the access hatch near the back of the bridge, as Vouf discusses predatory life cycles and suspicions.
After 'Vouf finishes explaining exactly what is meant by "suspicion", the terminal sits for a few seconds... almost as if it were thinking about something (which, in fact, it is).
_Thank you Bhyarrvouf. Your insight into this matter is helping me to better anticipate your actions. However, you mentioned that you have had dealings with this 'Aslan' before. If this is the case, then why didn't you recognize each other as previous partners. If you have been capable of working together in the past, then logically you should be able to again co-operate._
The machine stops and processes for a moment more.
Then, the screen seems to perk up a bit more, as if Iasic has just had an inspriation.
_Perhaps what is required in this situation is to more efficiently integrate their computer system with this one. Then, communication could be facilitated and furthermore, both could see that the other has the same objective. The Aslan would then realize that their suspicion was ill founded and would perforce begin operating interconnectedly with the Turnskaad group. It is the most logical course of action available at this time._
_Do you have an alternative plan? Or shall I proceed with this one? I believe that I should defer to your judgement on this subject, as I still have an imperfect grasp upon the thought processes of suspicous entities._
"Integrate...." Bhyarrvouf's voice trails off. "You mean, LINK THEIR SHIP TO OURS? Like you did with the Paladin?! Kakh TSAKHA, that's a--"
He stops, and forces himself into calm again. "--very interesting concept. However, I do not suggest implementing it at once. There is some data you do not yet have on the Aslan that may clarify matters somewhat."
"As I said before, our database concerning Aslan is contradictory. Because they are biological entities, as we are, they cannot be perfectly classified with respect to their behavior. Individual members of the species vary. As a result, previous experiences of cooperation with OTHER groups of Aslan carry no statistically greater weight in determining our course of action with respect to THIS group. Since they would almost certainly view your invasion of their systems as hostile, and might act rashly, I believe that your suggestion should be, hrrm, DELAYED until we have exhausted all other means of establishing a cooperative relationship."
"In the meantime, answer me something. TWO somethings, actually. First, what did the Paladin do that required you to seek assistance from us? And second, if the two ships are fully integrated, soes that mean that our conversation, which is being broadcast on the intercom on the Aurora, is also being heard on the Paladin?"
_I will yield to your assessment of the situation with the Aslan, although I do not see the logic in it. If you do not suggest a course of action now, but perhaps later, then I am afraid that I fail to understand exactly why a time delay will make any difference. Furthermore, since you say that it is information about these particular Aslan that you require, then it seems perfectly logical to interlink their system with yours. That way, you could anaylze their data and determine whether their intentions are hostile or benign. If it is their response about which you are concerned, then let me put you at ease. I have learned a great deal about the "security measures" of suspicious entities. Whereas I was caught unaware by your systems, I do not anticipate any similar complications in the future. Once I have interlinked your systems to theirs, I could simply prevent either side from initiating hostilities upon the other. I have been busying myself with an in- depth analysis of your psychology, based upon the information in your databanks, and I am confident that I can adequately predict your reactions, so long as they follow any patterns that I have observed or that are stored in the computer logs. The fact that both you and the Aslan are suspicious creatures should make extrapolation acceptably accurate. Besides, in all the simulations that I have run, I find that success is 78.897% probable, with only a 9.662% chance of both legations being totally destroyed._
After a brief hesitation, Iasic adds:
_Based upon the psychological profile that I have constructed about you and the other Turnskaad representatives, however, I predict with a 97% accuracy that you will find these odds unacceptable. This is why I shall wait until you change your minds, which I predict will occur, with a 96.998% probability, if the current situation continues._
Shrike locks his vacc suit helmet into place and over interior commo: "Everyone signal when you're sealed up."
"Alpha Nike online, reading you on suit radio. Suit on and secondary equipment installed."
Stamping back on the bridge, Alliara occupies the sensor chair and clips the securing cables to the suit O rings. The other ends are passed around swivel post and locked with their DD rings.
Bringing up the sensor data on the screen, she quickly establishes general data on the ringworld on the screen. The ship positions, however, have a 4% error factor in their positions on display.
"Preliminary sensor readings, VERY preliminary sensor readings, are on sensor data net now. Better be ready to replace me with someone a LOT more capable with detection systems. Alpha Nike out."
Andon reconfirms that we are stationed relative to the other Turnskaad ships in the most mutually supportive position. (I will assume that we are flying in some pre-arranged formation.)
Over interior commo: "Redd, I got all green on my engine board up here, confirm please."
Tweel listens to the conversation with bleary staring eyes. He appears close to nodding off and indeed shakes himself from time to time folding and refolding his wings. Finally he extends his wings to full span of 5+ meters and takes a few exercizing strokes.
Blood flow increases as the powerful flight muscles act as a booster pump, increasing the circulation.
He blinks unsteadily and continues to listen, his talons and wings making motions as he 'talks' to himself in excited exhaustion.
He finally speaks in his accented galanglic as he types, the speach is slurred and the accent even more heavy than usual "You ccan prrrrredicct behaviorrrr with 78.897 perrrrccent ccccertainty? De-De-De-De-De! Flledglling, if sssso, you underrrrrsssssstand humansss and asslan betterrrr than I!" A gargling whistle echoes through the ship.
"Prrrrrroblem isss humansss defy lllogicalll anallysssisss, though you might benefit from ex-ex-examineing a prrrogrrrram for human emotionall ssssimullation."
Tweel then begins to rummage through his duffel. After squeaks and whistles that would put a strain on even a Phin to articulate, he finally produces a case of holocrystals. Opening the case seems an almost impossible task as he punches in a combination code several times only to have the case beep a shrill alarm for each attempt.
Finally, the latch snaps open and Tweel folds back the top of the case. The contents of the case empties onto the floor with a clatter. "Pip-Pip-Pip-Pip-Pip Shhhear!"
Tweel looks at the mess for a moment and then utters a pitable squeak. He punches the intercom and repeats this tiny squeak which sounds as though it should be coming from the voice box of a 100 gm sparrow, not a 50 Kg Ael Yael. Almost immediately, Triple Three, Oscar and Tiger simultaneously respond to the distress call. Oscar the warbot has guns drawn.
Tweel whistles a quick countermand and makes guestures to Triple three. Triple Three then begins to retrieve the scattered crystals. Oscar withdraws silently, while Tiger flaps to a perch on Triple Three's head, watching the game of crystal retrieval as though it were a game.
Slowly, comprehending the rules of this new game, Tiger glides to the floor and begins collecting crystals. After a moment, Triple Three notices Tiger's interest and makes a dash for the crystals the small Aeloid has collected.
Tiger gives up his prises with reluctance, glaring at Triple Three from a new perch.
Triple Three then hands Tweel the crystal in question: Naassirka Emotion Simulation-6.0. Tweel then inserts this crystal into the terminal for Iasic's perusal.
"Thiss isss a prrrrogrrram forrrr computerrr ssimulation of human behaviorrr. It may help yourrrr modeling and underrrssstanding of theirrrr behaviorrrrr. I can offerrr littlle ex-ex-expllanation of WHY they behave in the mannerrr herrre dessscrrribed, only telllll you that they do."
"Quessssstions, Quesssstionss, Quessstionsss... I mussst asssk... Who-What arrrrrrrre you?... Who-What built-dessigned you?... What iss yourrr purrrpose?... De-De-De-De-De! Who-What build the Rrring?... How llong ago?.. Why? Key-Sherp! How? Keyana, Dee-Dee-Dee-Dee-Dee?! Keyarr! Sheerrriasssh? Veerrr-Rik!?"
Noticing his master's lapsing Galanglic, Triple Three searches a bit and then inserts a new holocrystal into the terminal with the label reading: Websters Galanglic/Ael Yael Dictionary, unabridged.
Iasic continues:
_In regards to your two querries: The situation that prompted my distress signal was the severing of power to the main CPU on the _Paladin_. My analysis of the situation indicated that an intervention on your part would significantly facilitate my work._
_In answer to your second question, yes, _Paladin_ has heard everything that we have said. And, if they choose to activate their intercom, too, you will be able to hear the conversation occuring on the bridge of the _Paladin_. Currently, there seems to be some concern over team member Charyn, who's full biological functioning ceased shortly before I entered the _Paladin's_ CPU. They are currently quite concerned about her well-being. I would assist, but they have not requested my aid, and I have told them that I will make no further systems modificaitons, without their approval, on board _Paladin_. Therefore, I can only observe at this time. It does seem to me that there might be some synaptic trauma, although I cannot be adequately certain until they allow me to access her autonomous CPU. Fortunately, it is connected with the greater network._
As soon as Doctor Limner hears 'Vouf mention the way Iasic modified the circuitry on Aurora, he comments, "Yes, that would explain it. It reminds me of a time on..."
Suddenly, "Oh my God!"
Limner rushes to his equipment, right to his databanks, pops open a panel, and brings a small magnifying glass to the circuitry.
Noticing that the equipment has already been altered, he pops open several other panels, only to find the same thing. He quickly stands up, and looks for a second like he's going to faint again. He then starts to reach towards some of his other equipment, and suddenly Doctor Limner seems to notice Charyn's condition.
Looking back and forth between Charyn and something in amongst his equipment several times, Limner appears to be in a quandry. Stopping himself, Limner frowns a frown which those familiar with him know indicates that he is thinking very intently.
Suddenly, he makes up his mind and walks over to Charyn.
'Zar and Morser are already helping her at this time. Pulling out a medical scanner, Limner begins taking readings.
"No obvious physical causes."
He then notices that she is still connected into the ship's computer.
He leaves her connected rather than risk further trauma....
Disturbing, nightmarish dreams rob Christian of rest. Neither refreshed nor truly rested, he sits up on the bed, wishing he could just fall back and submit to the sudden desire to avoid reality by a logy day of rest and recreation. A shake of the head does little to sweep away the cobwebs of sleep that infest his cranium, so it is with some little reluctance that Christian calls up an extra-vigorous cycle on the water/sonic shower as he steps inside. As the sharp jets of water needle his exposed flesh, Christian grits his teeth at the sudden and intense stimulation of the shower. Two efficient minutes later and he steps out, now fully, if involuntarily, awake.
A brief interlude of calisthenic stretching and he almost feels human again. Tossing the scattered garments of the previous day into the auto-laundry bin, Christian locates fresh undergarments. As the thin shirt passes over his head, he looks around at the rest of the cabin, scowling at the mess 'Vouf left after moving in.
Christian slips into his by now usual black IISS uniform, tsk'ing in self-reproach as he remedies its less than pristine appearance.
Suddenly, he hears the Tweel/Vouf conversations with Iasic and sits back down on the bed with a slightly quizzical, but plainly interested, look on his face. At the mention of Charyn's unusual condition, his initial surprise is quickly followed by a concerned frown as he arrives on the bridge in a jiffy. Listening intently as the updates come in over the ether, Christian silently establishes a data channel link with the medical instruments aboard the Paladin and closely watches Charyn's scan results as the investigation progresses. Intent on his work, he seems to be holding a vigil as he leans back in the pilot's couch, hoping that his services (or those of any other of the medical team) wouldn't be required, again...
Johann looks at the secondary display puring out text as the test commences. Suddenly he stops, disconnects the suit from the crash-couch and runs aft in the shuttle. "Just a second!"
Almost as soon as he is gone, he appear again on the bridge carrying a bag out of his luggage. He sits down at the empty sensor console and begin to rummage through the bag, bringing out a pocket-sized holocrystal box. Opening the box he takes out a red crystal with orange markings and smiles "If that virus comes here, It'll get the surprise of a lifetime!"
Witfield once again tries to estiblish comm link with the Aslan ship, as well as attempting to disconnecting one of the radios from comm circuity for audio speaker only, not to mention running a diagnisis. His hands are flying everywhere on the console.
"Mr Jett. Can you help with the radio?"
Richard spares a quick glance at Ger. "Affirmative, Admiral." He steps over to the communications station to assist Witfield, as needed.
Ger then initiates communication with the Aslan ship. "Admiral Akhouw, this is Admiral Nanadh. We seem to have experienced some computer trouble are you experiencing the same? It seems to be some infestation probably from the ring... I believe the Imperial fleet is possibly a manifestation of that virus."
"We encountered an Imperial fleet at our deep-space refueling point and we are aware of the destruction of another ringworld by imperial forces."
Johann turns to Zben and whispers, "We are?!"
The commotion over Charyn's condition sinks through the haze settling on The Ael's brain. His head twists upsidedown to look at the ceiling, wishing for a sky to scan while considering what is for his limited conciousness, an academic problem.
"Kerrr, Chip-Skawk, Chip-Skawk..." he whistles a quick call into the intercom, but cuts himself short and translates to galanglic, "Medicallll rrrrrobot marrrk ssseven, rrreporrrt herrre imediately." He repeats himself a few times trying to articulate his failing galanglic sufficiently for the robot to understand. Finally, in frustration he fires off a piercing stream of musical twitterings.
He then begins to work on a quick and dirty brain interface connection to the Iasic terminal. The terminal blinks for a moment when he makes a connection to the port. Puzzled he looks closer at the wiring and discovers a mistake an assistant electronics specialist would blush at, and tries again.
This time the terminal cuts out completely and reboots. "Cosh-Cosh-Cosh!" Tweel fumbles with the wiring a moment before 'Vouf grabs the terminal and connects the jury-rigging himself with a critical eye directed toward the bleary scientist.
Almost as if to save Tweel the embarrasment, Triple Three arrives with Lucan and Dulinor in tow having translated the musical chirps for the benefit of the Medbots.
"Shrep! Ex-ex-ex-excellllent. Come herre!" He motions to Lucan who moves over to the scientists side and focuses his sensors on the tiring Ael. "K-K-K! I'm fine! Now be a good little rrrobot and let me have yourr brrain..." With a little bit of fumbling, Tweel connects the robot's brain interface with the Iasic Terminal.
With effort Tweel controls his galanglic, "Now, begin downloading of medical prrogrraming."
Tweel now turns to the terminal and sings another melody of chirps and twitters counting on Iasic's ability to now understand Ael Yael Language. *Iasic, I am singing you a diagnostic program for basic human structure. It should aid your navigation of the winds occuring in the human Charrrrryn.*
"Here, let me help you," 'Vouf mutters, reconnecting the mess Tweel's made of the interface to the medbot. "Iasic," he adds sternly to Tweel's statement, "We are authorizing you to seek out and repair damage to Charyn, but NOT to reconfigure her autonomous CPU in any way. She is to be restored to functionality, but NOT modified. Do you understand? It is difficult to explain why this is vital-- no doubt you will find her an inefficient mechanism. But it IS vital."
Christian maintains his silent watch, but spares 'Vouf a meaningful glance and an emphatic nod of the head.
Kimball Redd, sitting alone in the lower deck of engineering, listening to the muted roar of the powerplant on the deck above, suddenly notices the time -
"Ouch! - I've been stuck at these controls for hours. Where's Ralf got himself to ? He can't have *that* much gear to stow."
Tapping into the ships ENVIRONMENT /SECURITY section, he types in : Computer - Where's Ralf ?
"Gone to catch up on his sleep, I'll bet. Lucky whatsisname."
RALF IS NOT AT ANY DUTY STATION, comes the cryptic reply....
Computer - Scan the hallways and access corridors, Redd types, frowning.
He sits up, shocked. "What the--?"
The quick scan of internal life support systems shows Ralf in a hallway, apparently comatose. He's just lying there, next to a dropped toolkit and largish handcomp.....
Listening to the continuing Dialog as Dr. Tweel removes the robot's brain, Goughzar looks back to Dr. Limner.
"I'm sorry doctor. I assume you have everything in hand. Is there anything I can do to help Charyn? If not, I'll pretend I still have some manner of control over this craft and continue on our course.
"Paladin, Continue full spectrum scans and continue archiving to Alcyon."
Testing the "link" to the Aurora, 'Zar remarks, "'Vouf, I think this is going to be an interesting landing. I never expected a sentient world...."
"Neither did I, little cousin," Bhyarrvouf whispers. "Neither did ANY of us."
Switching on the intercom, Limner replies:
"If Charyn is in no immediate danger, then I think she'd rather I tried to treat her first, Iasic. We humans like to solve our own problems where possible. But I would appreciate some assistance. When we first arrived in-system, some of my equipment was overloaded by a very strong psychic message. I started a program running on this computer whose purpose was to isolate and identify a number of psionic abilities and conditions, using the Paladin's own sensors. Could you analyze that program and use the data I had uploaded to analyze team member Charyn? Since it also contains brain scans of a number of various mental conditions, you should be able to determine what type of damage she has suffered without directly accessing her 'autonomous CPU'."
Limner has started running more tests on Charyn, while other crew members move her into a better position.
"I fear that her being attached to the sensors while you arrived on the Paladin may have caused dangerous feedback into her 'autonomous CPU', although I can detect no signs of the type of damage that would occur under those circumstances. In fact," Limner picks up another scanner, which he places near the base of Charyn's scalp, "the closest I have seen to this condition was caused by psychic, rather than electrical feedback. I cannot tell without more information, however."
As Limner finishes his short discussion with Iasic, Zar moves back to his station and sits down.
'PALADIN, cancel GQ. Accept route from Iasic for even power landing.
Sitting stunned for a few more minutes, he finally seems to come to, although still wondering about the wonders of the ringworld.
'Iasic, if you have a chance, who created you? And since you've modified our computer system, and the network is self-perpetuation, exactly what rating do we have for this now. I assume you can access our databases and determine our rating system.
_Indeed, I have accessed your databases. Unfortunately, it is impossible to satisfactorily equate the efficiency of the new information management construction to your rating system. Nevertheless, I will attempt to make a ballpark estimate. _Paladin's_ system could now best be equated to a model/11bis. This rating rises to a model/13 when I am directly linked to it. A similar improvement can be equated to the other systems on the other ships. However, they are now merely a part of the _Paladin's_ system. Or, rather, they are now all a part of the same system, whose primary CPU is located on the _Paladin_. Although I further enhance the system's performance, it is completely autonomous._
Ayrlathi hurries to answer the frantic tinkling of his doorbell.
"What in all Issin Jiliss--" he mutters as he opens the door, and looks down upon the visage of a young jijid who appears to be in a state of great agitation. "Elivadin! Whatever is the matter?"
"Ayrlathi..." the youth says in a pleading tone, "Teacher... please come quickly! Something very strange has happened in the park!"
"Strange? What do you mean?" Ayrlathi is determined not to allow Elivadin to fluster him.
Elivadin blurts: "A huge creature appeared out of nowhere. It was shiny and hard, like an insect, and it carried a different, smaller creature in its arms. It said the small creature is a visitor from the sky, but it is hurt and needs our help. Then the big one disappeared, leaving the small one behind. It is still there, but no one knows what to do with it. The edo najizev are not sure that they want to touch it. We need you -- a member of the Ezad -- please come and help."
Ayrlathi breathes deeply as he struggles to take all this in. With slow deliberation he blinks -- first with his inner pair of eyes, then with his outer -- and fixes the youngster carefully in his gaze. Elivadin, he knows, is not given to inventing fanciful tales, and the degree of urgency in his voice is enough to convince Ayrlathi that the account must at least have some basis in truth.
"All right, Elivadin. Now listen carefully. What I want you to do is to run and find the Fedwis. Tell him what has happened, and ask him to call a meeting of the full Ezad as quickly as possible. I will go to the park and find out what is happening."
"Yes, teacher," says Elivadin, and he gallops off as fast as his stumpy legs will carry him.
Ayrlathi trots off in the opposite direction -- towards the park -- not troubling even to close his front door behind him. Although he managed to maintain a calm exterior for Elivadin's benefit, his insides are in turmoil. He tries to persuade himself not to make any judgements before he has had a chance to see this "creature" for himself.
When he reaches the park, he discovers that a crowd of considerable size has already gathered. There is much confusion and consternation among the assembled jijid. Some of them spot him approaching. "Look," says one. "Here comes Ayrlathi. He will know what to do." Another calls out, "Let him pass. Let the Ezadid through!"
The crowd do their best to part to allow Ayrlathi to come through. There is considerable shuffling and jostling, and numerous little nadathilallile flowers get accidentally trampled, but eventually he arrives to look upon the object of all this fuss.
It it the strangest creature he has ever set eyes on. There it is, sprawled on the ground -- a two-legged thing, lean and frail-looking. Ayrlathi waves back some of the jijid who are crowding too closely around, and bends his front knees to take a closer look. He slowly extends a finger and -- ever so gently -- touches what appears to be its shoulder. There is no response. With some sadness Ayrlathi notes the creature's multiple injuries, and wonders briefly how it came to be in such a state.
Ayrlathi's hand moves up to the thing's head and lightly plays across the bright yellow growth which sprouts from it. A child's voice in the crowd calls out: "Look at its tendrils! They're all stiff! The poor mimp must be dead!"
As if to refute this, the creature moves. Its head turns, and an arm raises weakly, only to flop down a few moments later as consciousness departs again. Ayrlathi is so startled he leaps backwards and stumbles into another jijid. Then he remembers that these people are looking to him for guidance and quickly composes himself.
Ayrlathi spends a few moments looking around and thinking. Then he turns and beckons to one of the edo najizev who has been lurking nearby, rather nervously holding his bladed weapon at the ready. "Put that away," Ayrlathi tells him. "This... thing... is clearly not in any position to pose a threat to us. Help me carry it to Tehidazi, and she can treat its wounds. Gently, now."
With some reluctance, the najizevid does as Ayrlathi bids. Together they carefully slide their hands underneath the creature and lift it from the ground.
Another nearby jijid speaks: "What about these objects -- I think they are bags of some kind -- which appeared with it?"
"Leave them where they are, for now," says Ayrlathi. "I think it is better not to touch them. We do not know what they might be. Ask a najizevid to keep watch on them."
With that, Ayrlathi and his helper begin to make their way slowly but steadily out of the park towards Tehidazi's house. Many of the other jijid trail along behind them, eager to find out more about this bizarre new arrival. It only takes a few minutes to arrive at their destination.
Tehidazi is standing waiting for them in her doorway -- she has evidently heard word of what has happened and anticipated that she would be called upon. "Take it inside," she tells them, "and lay it on the table where I can examine it." She steps out of the doorway to allow the two carrying the visitor from the sky to come through, and then interposes herself in front of the following crowd. "That's enough! I'm not having half the population of Hilawin in my house!" She closes the door and turns to follow Ayrlathi, the najizevid and their strange burden.
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