Chameleon Ch 9

Cerebrus Astronomite sat next to Lieutenant Jay May, the night shift helmsman, watching intently as the pilot double checked several calculations related to their flight.

“There’s a point zero six variance in our trajectory coordinates,” the man muttered.

“Is that a critical variance?” Cerebrus asked. The colored lights from the dashboard reflected on his head and body. His vibrant, electric blue eyes didn’t bother Mr. May anymore, although at first, they’d been a terrible distraction. Their intensity seemed to drill into his brain, but now he saw that there were only lights, like the colors of his dashboard reflecting on the droid’s outer shell.

“If we’re going to the moon, no. If we’re going ten light years, yes,” he quipped. They locked eyes. “That means you need to correct it. You’re the one sitting in Navigation.”

“Yes, I will correct it.” His hard, acrylic fingers reached for a data terminal. Grey, rubber-type sensor tips on those fingers solved the problem of using both screen touch and tap entry systems. He was unable, however, to use the visual actuation work screens. His eyes didn’t trigger the right algorithms. Those programs were older technology, and Cerebrus’ eyes registered only as blue lights.

Lieutenant May went to the com station to check for incoming messages, and finding none, he sat to run a diagnostic sweep on the transmitters and receivers. It wasn’t something he normally did, but it was a good excuse to get away from Cerebrus. He hadn’t joined the mission to become an AI’s teacher. Quite the opposite, his favorite place was on the bridge, on the night shift, alone.

Robots had become too lifelike for his comfort. When they were more like machines, he had no issues working with them. They were tools, fancy computers to be used as tools. When they first gave them voices, they were still disembodied tools, without souls, spirits, or eyes. Then came the symbionts. He didn’t want to even think about those.

At least Cerebrus was an acrylic android, hard, glossy, moondust white. Its only human resemblance was its, his, shape to function as a humanoid on a starship. You could interact with them, but they didn’t try to fool you as if they were sentient life forms.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Captain Jackson called, strolling from the elevator to the helm, coffee in hand. Neither May nor Cerebrus stood, and Jackson didn’t mind. “What’s our status?”

“We are on course and on schedule,” May said.

“Always good to hear. Anything interesting happen overnight?”

“No, Captain, although we passed a four-millimeter diameter singularity several hours ago. I entered it in the astrometric data.”

“Cerebrus, you didn’t find that from Navigation?”

“No, Captain, I was not scanning for singularities at the time.” Jackson paced back to his chair and eased in. “Is that a function of the navigator on duty?”

“It is the function of the astronomer aboard the ship. That’s you.”

“I was not acting in the capacity of the astronomer. I was managing the navigation controls.” Jackson leaned forward a little.

“Everyone on this ship, you included, has more than one job to do. Once navigation is laid in, you can put that on the back burner and scan for cosmic stuff along the way.”

“I’m not in Astrometrics.”

“Multitask. The navigation dashboard has similar components as the lab. Haven’t you shown him that, May?”

“I’ve been flying the ship and manning communications. I didn’t know I needed to be his teacher.”

“We’re all needed to be his teacher,” Jackson grudgingly admitted. He, too, would have to step up. “Why don’t I relive you now, before day shift starts.” He tossed his head toward the elevator for May to leave the post.

“Thank you, sir. I’m not passing on that deal.” The lieutenant secured his station and left the bridge without ceremony. Jackson swallowed more liquid ambition, then sat at the pilot’s control station.

“Come here,” he motioned to the android. “Today you learn to fly.” Cerebrus moved closer. “How much do you know, before I start at step one?”

“In theory or in practice?”

“I assume you know the Theories of General and Special Relativity, how we travel in flat space, how we stop once we get going, those basics.” 

“That information was part of my original data upload supporting an advanced degree in astrophysics.”

“Good. This shouldn’t be too hard then. In fact, Mr. May lets the computer do the job. He’s only here to make sure nothing goes haywire.”

“Haywire?”

“Wrong. Okay, you take the seat,” he said, standing up and moving out of the way. “First rule is: You are here to feed the dog. Second rule: The dog is here to make sure you don’t mess anything up while the computer flies the ship.”

Jackson made a mental note. If an android could appear perplexed, he now knew what that looked like.

“I’m kidding. Joking. That’s an old human saying. Very old. Actually, your job is to watch the computer and interfere if there’s an emergency. It’s called the Sullenberger Principle. You’re here to fly when something goes wrong. Understand?”

“Yes, Captain.” Jackson wasn’t sure that was an entirely true statement, but to accuse a droid of lying was illogical.

“Let’s say we need to go into, and stay in, orbit of a planet. You have a lot of things to watch here. Your yaw pitch roll speed, your brake rockets, thrusters, your delta-v, the navigation ball, and all these must come together so you don’t miss your insertion window. There’s some mathematics involved here.”

“I have performed an orbital insertion in simulation eight times.”

“I’ll ask you some questions, then. How many kilometers above the surface should the ship be while orbiting?”

“Of an Earth type planet, one hundred or more kilometers. Adjustments are needed for gas giants and low gravity entities such as a moon.”

“Yes. And we don’t watch the fuel unless engineering calls up and tells us there’s a problem. Fuel is their problem. Assume you have power unless otherwise advised.”

“I understand.”

“You want your periapsis and apoapsis the same, within 1 degree, so 101 and 98 is your margin. Most of the time you’ll need to throttle up to insert. You can let gravity bring you down so you don’t over correct.”

“Where will I find the required parameters?”

“Just put her in ‘Orbit Performance’ and your data will come up here,” Jackson told him. “These are set for ‘Advance’. We also have ‘Launch’, ‘Retreat’, and ‘Idle’. There’s no off switch. Following me so far?”

“I find it all familiar and straightforward, sir.”

“Are you confident that I can take my post?”

“I can operate the pilot dashboard as required for Advance Autopilot. If we experience an emergency, I may be required to ask for your assistance.”

“Good. As long as you know when to ask for help.”

“How will I know when to ask for help?”

Jackson frowned, then sat in his command chair. He finished the last of the coffee and gave the question a moment of consideration.

“When you don’t have an answer, and you can’t find the answer in time, on your own, or it’s something you can’t do alone. You have to put your ego aside, be humble, and ask for assistance in order to complete a task or mission.”

“That is how I learn, from others,” Cerebrus said plainly.

“If you’re not sure, don’t guess. We can’t have mistakes on the bridge in space. What happens here is life or death, every day.”

“I understand.”

If only he weren’t so willing to accept Jackson’s answers, he might have felt more convinced. He remembered a saying from his father said now and then, often enough to remember. He said he didn’t’ want to belong to a club that would have him as a member. Cerebrus was completely subservient. If only he would dare to ask a question on his own perhaps, rather than only answer other’s questions. Had it not been made to resemble humans, he was certain it would never be more than algorithms and optic fibers.

þ

“Ensign Rougeau and Lieutenant Lee, report to the doyen’s office immediately.”

“I guess I should leave,” Rianya said, struggling a bit with her out of balance body. Jackson glanced at the time.

“Are you working in sick bay?”

“Not today. Dr. Adams kicked me out.”

“With Dr. Chandra aboard, I guess it’s your chance to take it easy.”

“I don’t like being useless any more than you do,” she said. Well, she had him there.

“You’re not being useless. You’re making a person in there.” He tapped her gently.

“Before you came to Kinnae I never thought I might have babies. And then after we were mated I still thought I would not have babies. And now I’ll have two. My sister has two, my mother had two, so this must be normal.”

“It’s not normal on Earth. Most people have one, or sometimes two. Small families are the norm. It’s changing again with the fallout from the vaccine disaster.”

The office door chirped.

“Enter!” Jackson stood and Rianya moved out of the way when the two officers stepped in. She slipped out before the fireworks began. Jackson walked around the men, slowly, without words, his eyes cast at the deck. He stopped behind them. It took him a minute to gather his temper. Rougeau’s face was scuffed, and a bruise had grown around one eye. Lee’s face was adorned with a long, wide scab across his forehead, and another on the bridge of his nose.

“Here we are again.” He walked around to face them. Both stared at the wall like boot camp trainees. “I’m not sure what to even say this time.” Neither even twitched. “Rougeau, tell me the story.”

“Captain, it wasn’t our fault.”

“Do not refuse any responsibility.”

“We’d gone into a bar and started talking with a couple Auchsonian girls. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Too much to drink?”

“No, sir,” Lee piped up.

“So, continue.” Jackson walked around the pair and stopped behind their backs.

“Apparently buying an Auchosonian female something to drink is a commitment to another purchase, if you know what I mean.” Jackson knew what he meant. He’d been around the space station a few times.

“Another drink?” he asked, with heavy sarcasm.

“No, Captain, something much more expensive, and, intimate,” Mr. Lee said.

“Rougeau’s story, Mr. Lee.”

“No, Captain. It’s a guaranteed proposition.”

“You weren’t prepared for that? In a bar with alien females?”

“We apologized, when we were told, but they wouldn’t let us leave.” Jackson wanted to bust out in laughter but he had better self-control than most anyone else on the ship.

“Mr. Lee?”

“We were mugged. They didn’t care that we weren’t interested. They nevertheless wanted a forfeit fee, which was the same as the service fee.”

“You’re telling me I bailed out two bridge officers because of alien prostitutes?”

“More like their agent, sir. And his very large enforcers,” Lee muttered. Jackson left the men standing and took his seat behind the desk. He leaned over, crossed his arms, and placed his forehead on his wrists. Tom wanted to laugh. Jackson wondered how he became their parent. The captain wanted to bust them to crewmen but he needed them.

“What do you want me to do, boys?” he said mostly to the desktop. “I need you both. Do I have to bring you to the bridge, one at a time, and then have you spend the rest of your time in the brig? I can’t have you together on the bridge, I can’t let you take shore leave together, and I am forced to trust your judgement with my ship, my crew, and the mission. Even Cerebrus needs to be plugged in a few hours each week. He can’t spend every hour doing your jobs. He’s supposed to be in Astrometrics.” He looked up and sat back in his chair.

“You both get extra assignments. Expect Quixote to assign you some maintenance tasks to be completed in your off hours for the next thirty days.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Return to duty at thirteen hundred hours. Dismissed.”

The two men scrambled out with a minimum of dignity. Jackson reached for the intercom button.

“Galley.”

“Bailey, I could use a refill up here and I can’t leave the bridge.”

“Say no more, sir. I’m on my way.”