Chameleon Ch 15

“Come in,” Jackson called.

“One hour, Captain.”

“Thank you for being prompt. Sit. What did you want to discuss?”

Cerebrus sat across from Jackson in the firm chair ever present in front of the captain’s desk.

“I am ready for additional tasks.” Jackson hadn’t expected that. He leaned back, coffee cup in hand.

“Such as?”

“I have mastered the navigation helm, and have no new phenomena to catalog for ten light years. I have downloaded the entirety of the ship’s ELDW.”

“The entire ELDW? The entire thing?”

“As it relates to my functions, yes.

“What didn’t you find relevant? What does an android consider fluff?”

“I found no relevance in literature prior to the year 2101, history prior to the Industrial Revolution, agriculture, horticulture, medicine, entertainment, hospitality, zoology—”

“I understand. Thank you. It seems your definition of ‘entire’ is subjective, not factual.”

“It would not be prudent to occupy my neuromorphic capacity with data I won’t use in my regular activities.”

“I have plenty of tasks to assign you.”

“I also, in light of my advanced status, have concluded that I am not properly addressed or considered as a member of this crew. I need you to rectify that.”

Jackson let the android’s words settle in the back of his head. He stood, then paced a few steps. A machine that talks back was a sticky wicket.

“Can you be more specific? You have quarters, bridge access, full use of the Astrometrics lab. You are addressed as your name, and we’ve respected a gender. We don’t call you ‘it’, ‘xe’, or speak in front of you in third person.”

“I do not use the same resources as biological crew members, but they are compensated for performing the same tasks as I.”

“I’m not sure what else to do. Your needs are met, are they not?”

“I have no reason to perform at my maximum without incentive.”

Jackson wasn’t sure if he should be disturbed or pleased by the developing intelligence of his droid.

“Is it not within your programming to excel, to perform at maximum capacity and efficiency?”

“I have had a conversation with Lieutenant Lee. He seeks promotions, which bring financial rewards, peer respect, and self-esteem. He is also granted privileges in escalating importance.”

Jackson covered his mouth and turned away, hoping to collect himself. He cleared his throat, audibly.

“My officers have been through years of training. This has been their career, their lives. You’ve been here a few weeks.”

“And yet, Captain, I have surpassed their abilities.”

“I thought you were asking for more work, not more time off.”

“I am treated as less than a crew member. I do not consume resources—”

“A cabin? Electricity?”

“I use less power than the production machines. I do not eat, breathe, or produce waste, and I am still given less respect than the lowest member of your crew.”

“You’re saying you’re superior to us?”

“In most capacities, I’d say that’s a true statement.”

“And since I granted you one request, say the private quarters, you now demand additional compensation, like officer status, because...?”

“The carrying capacity of the ship is not affected by my presence yet it receives benefit.” Jackson drew in a deep breath and sat back at his desk, forming his lecture before opening his mouth.

“You lack experience aboard a star ship, which translates to ignorance of protocol. You don’t understand why things work the way they do, here. I’m the captain because I’ve earned the right to give the orders. It comes from making good decisions. I am the first one to face danger, and I’m responsible for all our lives. You want rewards without the earning.”

“Why do you have a family aboard? A special table to eat at? These are conspicuous benefits.”

“When you have served ten years defending your country of alliance, which I’m not sure you have, and another twenty in the Space Administration learning to work in space, fly, navigate, respect a chain of command, understand the engine design and what every part on the entire ship is for, how it works, and how to take it apart and put it back together, you might be ready for command of the Lunar – Jovian tourist cruise ship.”

“You are not willing to consider my progress and accomplishments so far aboard the Maria Mitchell?” Jackson clunked his cup on the desk. His amusement ended with a snort of laughter.

“First of all, the ship’s name is not Ma REE a Mitchell. It’s Ma RYE ah Mitchell. If you screw that up one more time, I’ll call you out in front of the crew. Mr. Astronomite, return to your assigned duties. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And the proper response to an order is ‘aye’.”

“Aye, Captain.” Jackson had to stifle his amusement until the droid left his office. The situation would be laughable if Cerebrus wasn’t serious about his request. As his father used to say, give an android a centimeter and they’ll take a kilometer.

“Captain, results from the probe are coming in.”

“On my way, Mr. Watson.”

Jackson skipped his chair and stepped into the nadir to get a closeup look at the incoming data at the navigation dashboard.

Radius:                    11,127.5 kilometers

Surface:                   graphite, silicon carbide, silicates

Interior:                   carbon, graphite, silicon carbide, silicate

Core:                      iron

Mass:                      47.2 x 10²⁴

Density:                  9.1 g p cm³

Gravity:                   8.59 m s/₂

Temperature:           2350 C day, 1320 C night

Jackson smiled, wide, biting his lip. He trembled just enough for a single shiver. Its mass was off the damn scale for a planet, especially a modest one.

“Cerebrus, what can you tell me about this brown dwarf and its planet?”

“The probe data—”

“No, you’ve seen the data. What are your conclusions?” Jackson put on his typical poker face and fed the android a little extra rope. “What does your neuromorphic net tell you about the existence of this planet and the brown dwarf?” Had Scott Gregory, Doctor of Astrophysics, been aboard, he would have been dancing among the stars and begging for permission to go to the surface. Had the science team been along, this would have been exponentially more interesting than the asteroid on Beta Hydri IV.

“Unremarkable, Captain. Failed proto star, carbon consolidated under the heat but began to orbit.” Jackson nodded.

“Time to system?”

“Seventeen hours, eight minutes.”

“Recalculate for velocity one power up, and energy consumption.” He clasped his hands behind his back. Maybe a little busy work would oil up the machinery in his head.

“Six hours, one minute, and just over nine hundred gigajoules Captain, allowing for faster Newtons and reduced timetable.”

“Very well. Increase velocity by one power.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Jackson stepped up to his command chair and settled in. His android was an arrogant SOB. Would it do more harm than good to discomfit him here and now, or should he send him to Astrometrics to find his own mistake.

“Lieutenant May, can you manage the helm?”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Cerebrus, go to Astrometrics and review these findings. This is a discovery you’re going to want to chart.” Jackson was sure that the electronic man frowned, but without eyebrows it was impossible to confirm.

“Aye, Captain.”

After he left the bridge, both May and Watson turned to Jackson with silent stares.

“This is the first one I’ve ever run across. How about you two?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t know the significance of this rogue,” Stuart said.

“It’s not a rogue, Watson. It’s an ancient binary star system.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not enough to know there’s a brown dwarf and a satellite floating around out there. Cerebrus has made it clear to me that he is ‘fully educated’ in astronomy.”

“Oh, my,” Jay said.

“And he is going to discover that it’s not enough to commit things to memory. As I’ve said to both of you, I can train a chimpanzee to run the helm. No offense, Jay. But I want people who can think, put things together, draw conclusions. It’s not enough to be a database.”

“His A I is not quite I yet, is it?” Jay said with a snicker.

“Wait, I still don’t understand,” Stu said.

“Did you want to go with Cerebrus?”

“No, of course not, Captain. I must have missed that lecture…?”

Jackson smirked and leaned on the arm of his chair to be a few centimeters closer to his communication officer.

“What’s a brown dwarf?

“It’s a dull, cool star, barely a star, off the main sequence. It’s usually too small or too cold to ignite a hydrogen fusion process. We find them with infra-red because they usually don’t emit visible light.”

“Fine. How does a carbon planet form?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Jay?”

“Hell, I’m not even sure how regular planets form.”

“Why would a planet be full of carbon and graphite instead of molten iron and silicates? Think about it.” Both Watson and May put on their thinking faces. “The planet is full of diamonds. How does that happen?”

“Diamonds?”

“Look at the probe data again,” Jackson said patiently. “It’s not a rocky or gas planet orbiting a brownie. It’s an extinct white dwarf that is now orbiting its companion from a binary origin.”

“I’ve heard of that, once,” Jay admitted.

“They’re rare, and hard to find. Think about it. A white dwarf is a dead, smallish star. They stop fusion, explode, and contract. They have can have a carbon center and become tremendously dense under the gravitational pressure. That’s the recipe for diamonds.”

“You’re right. An ancient binary star system,” the lieutenant said.

“Shouldn’t Cerebrus have been able to put that together?”

“He doesn’t have the experience,” Stu said.

“He isn’t a person. He’s an artificial intelligence, programmed to solve problems, not extrapolate, draw conclusions, or imagine what he hasn’t downloaded.”

“Isn’t that the purpose of an AI? To reason and draw conclusions?” Jay asked.

“He’s still immature. He’s a teenager. They know everything except how much they don’t know.”