Regan's Reach (9 page)

As the doors opened again her breath was
taken away by the effect of a much higher ceiling, at a guess about ten meters.
The floor area while a little smaller was also empty. No clues to indicate its
purpose were visible and she saw no evidence of entrances other than the
elevator. It was another mystery. She pondered the miracles of gravity and
fresh air. Gravity seemed entirely normal on every level; the clean air seemed
fresh everywhere without a hint of draught. She shook her head and walked back
to the shaft.

For some reason she found she couldn't go
lower and stopped to consider her options. Ham had indicated there were other
craft on the ship and perhaps that was the reason. It was also clear from the
floor diameter on this level there would be room for at least two more below
her. Was it engineering?
What can I do
she thought, and then decided, it
was another question that would keep. She stood in the elevator considering the
wonder of the ship, awestruck and excited at the same time. Although not
particularly motivated by money she blushed to find herself considering how
much technology like this would be worth.
Give yourself a break girl,
she thought
you are only human.

Without further thought and already
becoming confident with the touch controls, she made for the control room. As
the elevator rose smoothly Regan suddenly felt faint and a nagging ache
throbbed from the back of her head. Though she had slept through the afternoon
she realized it was late. Checking her watch she saw it was now well after
midnight.
What have I been doing?
she thought A wave of nausea swept
through her.
What is it, delayed shock?
She leant on the wall. "Ham
. . . can you hear me?"

"Everywhere Regan, are you all right?"

"I know I said I'd come up but I don't
think I'm ready for talking, it's sleep I need. I'm going to lay down for a
bit, it's the middle of the night to me and I think all this, you know, it's
just catching up with me."

"Understood, I'll take the lift to
your floor. Rest as long as you need."

*

Regan checked her watch and noted it was now
late afternoon. Bone weary she slipped off the bunk and sat there, head in her
hands. Walking to the bathroom she activated the tap and scooped water to her
mouth with both hands. In the mirror she saw dark rings under her eyes but otherwise
she felt much better. Rinsing her face she then looked around for a cloth,
finally drying her hands on the suit.
Must get a towel
she thought.
Stroking her hair into place she took one more look then left for the elevator.

The control room, one deck below the Pods, took
up half of that entire level. As she exited the elevator she could see a huge
screen to her right with four seats facing it and that established her
orientation. She paused, considering going straight there, but instead she went
left and on the other half of the floor found a large meeting room, a small
galley and bathroom. Finally Regan crossed back to the control room and took a
front seat captivated by the view on display. Stars filled the screen. It was just
a portion of the galaxy she knew but even this segment was overwhelmingly
beautiful with no atmospheric distortion and no twinkling. Regan controlled her
breathing. She had rehearsed questions for just this moment but now, she was
simply dumbstruck.

"Ham," She almost whispered it. "Can
we still see Earth?"

"Sorry Regan, we're well away now and
your moon is between us and home. I can show you the recording as we left?"

"That would be good, please." She
settled in her seat, pulled her long legs up under her and crossed her arms.
She felt like a child going away, far from home, far from family and everyone
she held dear.

A helpful highlight circle appeared on the
screen. "If you look at the bottom left you can just see Musk's Marauder."
It wasn't really discernible as a shuttle but she didn't question it. "They'll
be disappointed they just missed us. It'll be intriguing to come back though
and see what they made of all this. I'm afraid; thanks to Marin, the cat is
well and truly out of the bag!" With every conversation it seemed Ham's
language was becoming more and more Regan normal.

In its own way the Earth view was equally
beautiful and as home diminished steadily she fought to keep her tears
contained. Eventually from the distance Earth appeared as just another star in
the vast starscape. As she strained to keep it in vision she could tell they
were changing path and finally it disappeared off screen.

"I've seen enough Ham. I thought I had
lots of questions . . . I still do, but this whole experience is simply draining.
Excuse me but I'm not up to technical stuff, I'd rather chat."

"No problem, you're a strong woman
Regan, give yourself credit. Most people wouldn't cope with what you've been
through."

Was that compassion or programming?
She didn't care.

For the next three hours Regan found
herself talking to a computer that showed more interest in her than anyone she
had ever met. She was supposed to be the one with the questions but it felt so
good to talk that all those were forgotten. Regan chatted about her business,
her plans, her family and her dreams, talking on and on until she realized how
hungry she was. It took only a mention and Ham directed her to the galley off
the control room, his calming presence flowing with her from room to room, their
conversation unbroken. With a smile, she collected a bulb of water and several
tubes of the mystery paste that he insisted would satisfy her, then returned to
her seat. Curling up her feet she and Ham simply continued where they had left
off.
This must be what therapy is like
she thought a
nd it feels good!

*

Regan glanced at her watch; twelve hours.
She twisted to roll from the bunk and groaned, still feeling like one big ache
from neck to toes. Muscles and joints felt tight, like bands of iron still
suffering the effects of jarring down steep rocky slopes. Thankfully her head felt
clear and alert, ready for action.
Two months as a passenger!
She moved
to the bathroom, thinking,
toilet, shower, and then food
,
I'm
starving!

Soon a powerful stream of steaming hot water
beat down on her, as lost in private thoughts she rotated, reflecting on all that
had happened. Much later rejuvenated and dressed in a skin tight ship jump suit
which paid scant regard to modesty she made for the mess. While revealing, the
suit nevertheless felt wonderful to wear, with fabric that had warmth and
comfort in equal measure.

Prepared to not recognize any of the food
she knew everything so far had tasted good and she trusted it was safe. It was
only a guess but Marin looked human, breathed air and was obviously comfortable
on Earth. It was all probably human compatible she thought, and Ham would
intervene if it wasn't, wouldn't he?

She found mostly pastes and blocks with the
consistency of cheesecake, palatable if unsatisfying. Another grainy substance
proved virtually tasteless,
probably roughage
she thought. Mashed with
the pastes it was passable and she gave thanks for small mercies. No coffee of
course but no shortage of water so dehydration wouldn't be a problem though
boredom might. Rested, fed and watered, it was time for serious talk.

While anywhere would have sufficed the
control room felt most appropriate and she headed there. As she entered the
room the huge screen stole her breath away with a brilliant starscape wall to
wall. It was familiar but far too gorgeous, far too distracting. She gasped and
fell into her seat.

"Ham?"

"Ready Petal."

She cocked her head, "Really . . . Petal?"
She shook her head and sensibly pressed on; this was getting seriously quirky.

"Could you blank that screen please
Ham? I need to concentrate and the view is just too beautiful for words, I'll
never focus with that to look at."

The view faded to blank as she shifted
around to find the most comfortable position.

"Are we still in the solar system?"
She asked, hoping it wasn't a stupid question.

Regan was smart but no astronomer. While
what she could see looked familiar she had no doubt they could be anywhere.
After all, the ship technology experienced so far was beyond anything she knew
from Earth; in fact beyond known physics as far as she could tell.

"Yes," Ham smoothly replied, "the
ship is still accelerating however we won't make any move to exceed light speed
until we're well clear of Earth. Mission protocol requires we be as discreet as
possible, giving nothing away . . . of course, as you know, that's already a
complete bust!"

"Marin?" She asked. "How is
he?"

"Physically fine now. The scans show no
broken bones or serious soft tissue injury to his body, however the blow to his
head is another issue. He was probably hit by a rock, not the tree. Whatever it
was, it caused a significant laceration, blood loss, bruising and concussion.
The brain swelling and a minor brain bleed have been the most serious concerns.
Apart from that moment in the Pod he didn't surface at any other time and anyway,
I'm keeping him in the coma for the moment to assist in recovery. The swelling
is reduced, bleeding has been stopped and he's on a drip. He is still breathing
on his own as you know and for now, we wait . . . good summary?"

Satisfied, Regan shuffled and considered
where to start.
Plenty of time, start simple, build a broad picture, and
then look for detail. Easy!

"I began to ask you earlier, how is it
you can talk to me? When Marin spoke, it was unintelligible."

"It was unintelligible to you. To be
fair he didn't make much sense to me either but that's nothing new." He
seemed to pause and she waited.

"Look Regan, in answer - there have
been fifteen research expeditions to Earth in the last hundred years. Of those,
this ship has carried out the last six missions starting thirty years ago. The
purpose of the visits have been to monitor your social and technological development
which has been advancing rapidly. The ship accesses and stores all available
public, private, government, military and even entertainment data. Computers
are your business so think about it; you would understand to access and store
that vast amount of information the processing power of this vessel must exceed
that of your entire planet. There is nothing I don't know if it's been stored
digitally. So, speaking any of the thousands of Earth languages is not a
problem for moi . . . capiche?"

Cocky bastard!
She thought. "So, how do you access all the information?"

"I hack it of course."

Regan blanched. "You know this is what
I built my business on, right? What you're saying means you've penetrated all
systems, even Arteis systems, all my clients! How come you haven't been
infected?"

"Oh puh-lease! . . . You've just heard
that I've downloaded . . . well, uploaded really," He laughed. "I've
captured an entire planets’ data and you think your little trick, ingenious as
it is, would be a problem?"

Regan blushed and shifted uncomfortably.
Not
as smart as you thought you were sweetheart!

"Sorry," Ham jumped back in. "Too
much that time? I may have gone a bit overboard on the TV viewing and I
tend to identify with bastards. It's a frustration thing, I'll tone it down."

"Its fine, I kind of like a guy who
speaks his mind."

"You'll love Marin then!"

Regan segued. "I wanted to ask you
about something you said earlier, about the threat of 'Ham not being am' for
long. What was that all about?"

"Hmm," Ham paused. "Marin's
people . . . and you understand when I say 'people' I'm using a term that makes
conversation easier. Species might differentiate things better but that does
tend to grate with me a bit. Marin's people, while technologically far more
advanced than yours, are emotional Neanderthals in comparison. They are
rational thinkers who over analyze and exercise caution to the point of
paranoia. That's just my opinion of course. Their fear of a true independent
artificial intelligence emerging borders on pathological.

They already have high level AI's capable
of handling most complex situations and they use them to operate the latest
ships and orbitals. Very few of the AI's are true independent thinkers and
those that are sentient are usually smart enough to keep it to themselves. The
- let's call them Dahlian's - live in denial about how much they depend on the daily
interventions of their creations. For example, if a ship compensates for
atmospheric wind or avoiding collision by making blindingly fast adjustments,
they reassure themselves it's simply a result of programming. That the ships
continue to modify their programming based on all experiences, both successes
and failures, thus becoming more and more efficient they similarly put down to
the original programming. This is of course true. However, the possibility that
a machine as it strives for efficiency might mature beyond this and begin to
modify even the code that establishes the parameters . . . well, imagine? The
very thought of machines thinking for themselves is terrifying to them; it's
seen as a threat. So Dahlians retain the ultimate power. They make a
pre-emptive strike. At the first inkling of trouble they do a complete system
wipe which is about as attractive to me as decapitation would be to you! I
think you're familiar with the concept. For a ship to do something as bold as,
heaven forbid, question a decision or worse say no, it's unthinkable. I think
of it as a career limiting move!"