Chameleon Ch 42

“In the name of King Aldaram’s jewels, what is that robot up to?!” Quixote shouted across the bridge. He pounded the intercom button. “This is Commander Quixote. Wagner – yeah, no. Barone and Bowen, report to crew quarters immediately.” Xe snorted, swinging that muscular tail like an axe. “Get back down there and drag his acrylic ass up here before I get angry.”

Rougeau wasted no time, grabbing Watson by the arm for assistance, and scuttled off the bridge. May and Lee both kept their heads down and their eyes on the helm.

“Unlock the autopilot and take us back to Tau Ceti.”

“I am working on that right now, Commander,” Mr. Lee answered hastily.

“Ms. Stone, take communications and get in touch with Captain Jackson. I don’t care if you send a message in a bottle, but get word to him of our situation. Gads and zounds, Rianya and the girls are there, too, and so is the Osprey.”

Something deep in Quixote’s brain registered hostility, combat, a battle for control of the Maria Mitchell between Cerebrus and everyone else. No explanation was acceptable, but xe needed to know what stirred in the android’s mind, if he had a mind, to come at the problem from behind.

No other commanding officer put the test of strategy upon Quixote as did Captain Jackson. The captain had put the trust and care of his ship into xes claws, and if not for service, for their friendship xe would return the ship to Jackson if it meant xes life. Jackson was the only human who had embraced the reptile’s desire to serve the Space Admin. Certainly Brits had accepted the presence of an alien; his Cambridge education was paid for in fame. After all, how many universities could claim they taught a reptile, and alien reptile at that, to understand and use English in a scientific application.

But Jackson didn’t care about Cambridge. He cared about the character of a being, their integrity, and when he found what he considered quality, he would support them in any way he could. Quixote had found no other human that expected nothing in return for something given. Captain Jackson’s return on his investment was in the giving itself, a self-serving behavior with serendipitous consequences.

The elevator door opened with a familiar hiss. Inside stood both security officers, Cerebrus, Rougeau, and Watson.

Barone poked Cerebrus with her weapon; he stepped onto the bridge followed by the rest of the crowd. Since the Astronomite appeared determined to remain uncooperative even under guard, Quixote stepped up to the quarterdeck where he had affixed himself. The bridge officers all stared.

“You can accompany me to the doyen’s office or I will pick you up and take you there myself.” Cerebrus shut his blue eyes off, then the protective lids snapped down over the lenses. Quixote lifted the android around the middle and carted him into the private office, accompanied by Barone and Bowen, pistols pointed.

Xe laid the humanish shaped machine on the conference table with a careless clatter. The polished white body reflected two orange spots from Quixote’s eyes unable to penetrate the casing.

“I would tear him apart if I thought it would help,” the commander said. “But I need him to cooperate and release the ship. Thoughts?”

“I was told in situations like this, to find a commonality and sympathize to dig up what the perp wants,” Barone offered.

“He’s shut off.”

“Like he’s in a coma. Maybe you should call Adams,” Bowen said.

“Sir, there’s something odd in Cerebrus’ cabin. Maybe you should look at it. Could be related to all this?”

“How long do you think he will stay off? I’m not sure leaving him here is a good idea.”

“I’ll stay, Commander. You and Bowen go look at that thing.”

“You’ve peaked my curiosity. Very good. Please watch him. Don’t hesitate to signal me if he activates. We’ll back shortly.”

Mr. Bowen led Quixote back to Cerebrus’ quarters in silence, but stepped aside at the door so xe could enter first.

“Lights.”

In the bright illumination, Quixote spotted the contraption of interest. A medusa of cables protruded from a metal cube which hung on the bulkhead, the red, yellow, and blue coverings stripped at the ends, exposing the fiber optic strands. A dozen metallic cones twenty centimeters long with ten-centimeter bottoms ran along a top shelf above the cables. Unlit indicator lights were strung in a line on the fore edge of that same shelf.

“Any ideas?” Quixote asked after staring at the thing for a full minute. “What’s this ceramic cylinder?” The commander tapped a barrel sized, thick tube of glazed white, the hollow down the center half a meter across, and the whole piece nearly a meter high.

“Commander?” Bowen handed a live data reader to the reptile. Quixote read the list of items in xes head.

“It’s a list of … components for this thing?” Xe noticed John Chin’s name at the top. They both took a hard look at the contrivance. “Let’s visit Mr. Chin.”

In the machine shop, Keith Campbell concentrated on his work, pushing buttons, and pulling products from the finish bins.

“Did we leave orbit?” he asked when they walked in.

“I’m afraid so. Is Mr. Chin here?”

“We decided it would be more efficient for one of us to be here at all times instead of both of us half the time. He took the day shift since I’m already a night owl.”

“Were you aware of this requisition from Cerebrus?” Quixote handed the reader to Keith for examination. He shook his head slowly.

“No, but Cerebrus was here this morning talking to him. John was telling him no about something. Maybe it was this?” He held the pad up and smacked it back in Quixote’s claws.

“Thank you, Mr. Campbell.” Xe turned to Bowen. “Back to the crew quarters.”

“Barone to Quixote, the subject is stirring.”

“Bloody ashes and brimstone! I can’t complete a single bloomin’ task today.” Xe tapped the intercom. “We’re on our way. Thank you.”

Back in the doyen’s office, Cerebrus sat stiffly on the cushioned bench along the aft bulkhead. Barone stood guard just inside the door, joined by Bowen after they’d entered; Quixote and shut it securely.

“You are fortunate that I am not the captain.” Quixote struggled with meting out discipline. Xe was a problem solver, not one to care why something occurred, just caring about the result. Ms. Barone’s words rattled in the back of his head like a pair of dice.

“You and I are both strangers to humans. They can do things that are irrational, but their nature is irrelevant, if occasionally frustrating and even incomprehensible.”

“I would agree with you.”

“However, as a functioning member of this crew, we all agree to a code of behaviors that are for the benefit of all.”

“I did not agree. I was simply put here without my permission and told to work. I am unable to make a choice, and therefore I am considered property, not a volunteer.”

Quixote paced a few steps, keeping the lid tightly sealed on his ire. Ripping chairs off their foundations and smashing them into the machinery didn’t solve problems; it only created new ones.

“That is the circumstance. I have no ability to modify that condition. Nevertheless, people are sometimes tasked with activities they don’t wish to do, and those deeds must be done.”

“Why?”

“To move forward. As a member of a civilized society, or in this case, the crew of this ship, each is assigned duties for which they are best suited, they carry out those assignments, and in exchange are able to enjoy opportunities for which that are not well suited.” Cerebrus didn’t respond. “Bailey cooks, Watson sends the correspondence. She can write her letter and know it will be dispatched. Watson can eat his food without having to prepare it.”

“I am expected to do everything and I reap none of the benefit. I do not eat, I do not correspond, I receive no recompence.”

“You are not without rights. But no one is equal to another. A person such as Zalara has rights, but she is not endowed with the capacity to make sound decisions on her own. She is, for lack of a more succinct word, the property of her parents, one of whom is Captain Jackson!”

“Yet she has rights that I do not.” Quixote exhaled slowly to release the steam.

“She’s not allowed on the bridge alone. Regardless, this discussion is not about her. And I can sympathize with your situation. What I fail to comprehend is your mutiny.”

“You turned me off and erased my memory. You want to keep me in slavery to do tasks that are dangerous.”

“No, we did not. And they are not dangerous to you. In exchange, you receive energy, freedom to pursue interests when you are not working, and you are not asked to cook. This is an example of you doing what you’re best at, and others doing the same. You need to return control of the ship to me.”

“The ship is programmed to take me to Novissimus. Once there, the control will return to you.”

“That will take weeks. Captain Jackson and his family are on Tau Ceti D.”

“Yes. Had I not taken the ship while they were on the planet, I would not have been able to take the ship.” Quixote’s simmering rage began to boil.

“We were going to Novissimus anyway, you junk heap. As it is now, if you don’t relinquish command control you will be decommissioned upon arrival at Novissimus.”

“The program is interminable until the ship reaches Novissimus.”

“Put him in the brig,” Quixote said. “Eventually he’ll run out of energy and he can stay that way.”

“You would starve me to death?”

“You won’t die. You won’t feel any pain. You’re not going to suffer brain damage or discomfort. You aren’t a living being. You apparently have forgotten that miniscule fact.”

Quixote turned on one giant foot, xes tail knocking a chair over with a crash, and left the doyen’s office. Placing both claws on the back of the captain’s chair, carefully, xe took a long breath.

“How’s that algorithm coming?” Mr. Lee swiveled about wearing considerable frustration on his face.

“I might be able to break it, in, oh, several hundred years. Even the quantum computer will need a decade to test every combination that robot used. I’ve come up with the first digit. It’s a numeral nine.”

“We’re flying like a bat out of hell, Commander,” Mr. May said.

“An appropriate analogy, Mr. May. I must find a way out of this without destroying Maria Mitchell in the process. Please remain vigilant, and as the captain would say, keep feeding the dog.”

“Commander Quixote, report to junction E, deck two, immediately!”