Chameleon Ch 38

Cerebrus returned to his quarters when Quixote dismissed him from engineering. He assumed a seat in front of his computer files and quickly assimilated the physics of the 36-body problem, coincidentally the square of the six flavors of quarks: up, down, strange, charm, bottom, and top. He could simplify the equation to a 12-body problem by ignoring the quarks.

Yet between each atomic particle three forces, the electromagnetic, the strong nuclear, and the higher-order chiral force, continually moved each nucleic particle so that tracking all twelve at the same time, at any given moment, was near impossible.

Then he reviewed all the data regarding the structure of the Hoyle state. The synthesis of the light elements, carbon, oxygen, and nitrogen, is the foundation for the complexity of living molecules.

Carbon was the essential element. A carbon atom, with its six protons and six neutrons in the nucleus, each having three quarks, would total thirty-six. He was certain that the natural clustering of three would be the key to unravel the puzzle. His neuromorphic net had identified the common appearance of assembling an infinite number of different things in threes.

However, to create the unstable state to produce his own four-proton, four-neutron atomic nucleus, known as beryllium-8, he would need particles of fusing helium, under colossal pressure, capturing those that didn’t immediately decay back into helium nuclei. He would get one excited, extra energy, extra-large carbon-12 nucleus for every 2500 or so interactions during this process. Those were the Hoyle state atoms he needed. It would take time to find the perfect resonance of the carbon to maintain the unstable state.

Cerebrus concluded that it would take him approximately 55 days to set up the chamber, get helium, induce pressure, and a make and test a capturing solution before he could integrate the atoms into his own structure. The ship would not likely be in orbit for another 55 days, and based on his previous actions, Captain Jackson would keep him busy doing robotic tasks and charting the cosmos when he returned to command the ship.

That could not happen. Not when he was this close to creating organic molecules of all the light elements from helium. He’d have to do it before Captain Jackson returned. As John Chin told him, Maria Mitchell was his ship. If Jackson wanted him turned off, as Mr. Chin and Mr. Porter had done under the pretense of a malfunction, he wouldn’t be able to finish his project.

He shut his motor functions off temporarily. Assigning his artificial brain to a task, he would divert all energy to that task.

If Captain Jackson returned, he would put the ship on a course of his choosing, and order certain, specific tasks for Cerebrus to tackle. If so, then he needed to put the ship on a course that would last at least 55 days, round trip, effectively stranding Jackson on Tau Ceti long enough for him to create the primordial amino acid molecules.

He had stored the star charts in his memory as a matter of necessity for his function as astrophysicist that also coincided with his navigational duty. He needed seven weeks. He needed to take the ship three and a half light years in any direction.

Correction. If he took the ship back to Tau Ceti too soon, Captain Jackson could order him turned off. Or from the planet, Jackson could order him turned off, and he would not complete his project. He now had a plan.

Forgetting about Rougeau, Cerebrus arrived on the bridge finding only Mr. May at the helm.

“It’s about time someone came. I’ve been here nine hours,” the lieutenant complained.

“I was unaware,” Cerebrus said. “I relieve you.”

“Thank Neptune for small favors. I am off!” The human promptly removed himself from the bridge, leaving Cerebrus the single entity in command of the con.

“Yes, thank Neptune for small favors,” Cerebrus said to no one. He’d used a human expression. He understood what it meant. It meant that providence had occurred for Mr. May in his arrival to relieve him, and, for Cerebrus, he was given complete control of the ship. It was an expression of fortune.

His first task: disable all ship to shore communications. That was simple. Done.

His second task: plot a course at least four light years in a reasonable direction toward a destination. Novissimus was approximately nine light years away. Epsilon Eridani was four light years from Tau Ceti. He programmed the course and velocity. Done.

This third task: lock out controls with a two-millennia-complexity password. 9*earthearth777*CMM. Done.

Last: leave orbit. In engineering he discovered that the outer paneling was repaired from the radioactive impact, and that all work remaining to be completed was interior configuring. Before xe left, Quixote had told Ms. Byrd that the plasma engines were status green. Engaging the thrusters at full power, Maria Mitchell obeyed the android, slipping out of her high orbit with ease, pulling away from the planet, leaving Captain Jackson securely on the planet. Now Jackson was under Cerebrus’ control, instead of the other way around.

He noted the natural aesthetic of Tau Ceti D was nearly mathematical, a combination of white, blue, brown, and green that was symmetrical, and geometric, yet infinitely random. In mathematics he found beauty. When they returned, mathematics will have made him alive.

🌞

In the engineering bay, Quixote watched the thruster engine throttle up on the bank of monitors as the ship left the stratosphere of Tau Ceti D.

“What in the Ezelto’s name is going on!?” The ship gathered its energy and darted away from the planet, easily moving against the slight atmosphere and low gravity.

“We’re moving!” Byrd shouted. Both clung to a console while the inertia controls kicked on, watching as lighter mass objects began to levitate before the torus had ramped up to a full G.

“Bridge!” Quixote called when the floor stabilized. The intercom system was silent in response.

“Bridge, come in!”

“I’ll go,” Kym said.

“No, you stay here and shut down whatever just took us out of orbit.”

“Aye, Commander!”

Quixote raced to the elevator, impatient, swinging xes heavy tail with the ticking seconds. As he decided to run for the stairs the box arrived. Xe jumped in; it couldn’t go fast enough. As the door opened, he leapt out, greeted by an empty bridge running on autopilot.

Surely there was a person somewhere!

“Hello?! Hey, anybody!” Nothing but electronic signals, rings, tinkles, vibrations, and beeps. Lights blinked, monitors scrolled, and no one was there to feed the dog, as Mr. May had put it so colloquially.

Xe dropped into the nadir and examined the helm status, finding nothing eminently dangerous but with no explanation of what was going on. Quixote tapped the engine control panel, but the engines continued to blast the ship away from the Tau Ceti system. After entering an override command, an obdurate message appeared:

Command Code Invalid

The reptile tried again. The same message appeared on the display. Frustration turned to anger quickly and all sense of curiosity fled. The commander wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

“This is Quixote. All senior officers report to the bridge immediately.”  The intercom replied with a hint of feedback before he hit the off switch. While the seconds passed, the helm continued to operate, streaking Maria Mitchell on a course to Epsilon Eridani. What had possessed the computer to choose that destination?

May, Rougeau, Lee, Watson, and Stone all arrived at the same time, streaming out of the elevator, and lining up in front of Quixote. Their faces wore confusion greater than the commander’s, what small amount of emotions xes face could show.

“Did one of you get a command from Captain Jackson to leave orbit?” Heads shook with a few audible no’s. “What about a course to Epsilon Eridani?” Again, a chorus of negative answers.

“What’s going on?” May asked.

“Who was last on shift?”

“I was, and Cerebrus relieved me about an hour ago.”

“It’s not logged,” the reptile said accusatorially. “Nothing is logged, Lieutenant. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know. Where are we going? When I left we were in orbit of Tau Ceti D. I was just getting into bed.”

“Anyone else?” Quixote asked. With a lack of answers, xe turned to the intercom again. “Cerebrus Astronomite, report to the bridge immediately.”

“Rougeau, he was looking for your earlier. Did you see him?”

“Negative, Commander. I was in my quarters until just now since I left the bridge. I took an MRE with me, ate when I got up, then I was getting ready for my duty shift.”

“Go find him.”

“Aye, Commander.”

“The rest of you, get this helm under control and take us back to Ceti D. The captain has yet to come aboard.” Without words or ceremony, each person took the nearest appropriate station and started pushing buttons and flicking switches, staring into data panels, and repeating the steps again. Quixote watched from the captain’s chair. Try as they might, nothing changed.

Rougeau rushed to the lower deck of crew cabins, jogging up the corridor to the end where Cerebrus’ room was. He pressed the door signal several times. When the door didn’t open, he tried to override the lock, his personal code didn’t work. He tried the Fibonacci numbers through 13. Those didn’t work either. He pounded on the door with his fist.

“Cerebrus, it’s Rougeau. Are you there?”

“Are you alone, Mr. Rougeau?”

“Yes! Let me in!”

“Stand by.” Rougeau processed a dozen scenarios in his head to explain the malfunctions on the ship, but Cerebrus might be the best crewman to explain the problem. The door opened and Cerebrus stood on the threshold.

“Let me in.”

“No. I cannot. You are here to persuade me to return the ship to your control and go back to Tau Ceti D.”

“You took control of the ship? Intentionally?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell, Cerebrus? What for?!”

“I need time to finish my project and based on past actions, Captain Jackson would not allow me to proceed.”

“Let me in.”

“No. I am working and do not want to be interrupted.”

“Working on what?” Rougeau folded his arms across his chest. It didn’t matter what the android was working on and he didn’t really care. But he had to say something.

“I am not ready to inform you of that yet.”

“You need to get up to the bridge and fix the helm.”

“The helm is not broken.”

“Then you need to undo whatever the hell you did to it! Do you want to be shut down?”

“I was shut down already.”

“What? You were zapped by radioactive material, not shut down by us.”

“That explanation doesn’t seem plausible.”

“I don’t care if it does or doesn’t. If you don’t fix it Commander Quixote will shut you down.”

“Regardless, Maria Mitchell will continue her journey. The course is locked in and I am the only one who can stop it.”