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Post by Shipfish on Jun 25, 2012 21:12:19 GMT -6
It was a boring day, but Kyachril did not hate boring days. They were often peaceful, and quiet, and there was not a screaming, miserable, bloody war going on beneath the ship. No one needed her advice on troop movement, supply chains, or tactical formations. At most, she might be challenged to a game of strategy by one of the seniors, or perhaps be asked to help a child with their schoolwork. Both of those things the Catalyst enjoyed.
Right now she was thinking about dinner while going over the stardrive data logs. Tonight, the ship's head chef had decided to serve their last bit of real cattlebeast to the people of the Fleeting Spirit. Kyachril, of course, would take the customary first bite, since she was the most senior officer on the ship. But these logs had to be finished first.
She didn't expect to find anything. In all the many numbers associated with a star drive, be they gravitational pull or space-friction or the local ease at which one could dive into otherspace, errors were few and far between. In fact, there had been no errors in the flight data since the Spirit's maiden voyage. No one counted those though. Every stardrive had a personality, and a maiden voyage was purely to iron out those kinks. Sipping her water, Kyachril noted a blip on the gravitational pull monitor. More like than not, it was just a large rock flying out in deep space. With a start, the Catalyst saw that the blip was less of a blip than a bump. The thing must have massed at least three Alternia-weights. How had that not affected the ship's path? The whole ship ought to have jarred as it passed the gravity well.
Kyachril set down her water glass. Dinner may have to wait.
How in the wide universe could the ship change course without the pilot telling it to? As far as the Catalyst knew, the steerage orders were passcode protected. At just past 5:00 ship-time, the whole tub had simply veered galactic north for a few minutes and then veered right back galactic south to straighten the course to avoid a large spacerock, all without a single order. That was impossible. Kyachril had several options, but the least time-consuming and most interesting method was to simply turn around and investigate. With a grin, she realized they would have plenty of time to eat that succulent cattlebeast before an investigatory mission could be arranged.
She should not have eaten so much. The cattlebeast had been almost too rich after a diet of nutritious shipbiscuits (it came in 30 different flavors, but none of them tasted quite right). Yet here she stood, on the bridge, staring through the vid-screen at a dull planet. It was smaller than expected for the mass, but still enormous. It did not have much surface topography, indeed almost none other than a few craters. The zipper drones that had gone to the surface reported an extremely high level of silicon, and the deep radio scans showed a cooled core made of something dense. It was obviously an errant planet, a cast-off of some turbulent system.
The high levels of silicon were a bit of a mystery. Kyachril's initial guess was that it had spiralled through an enormous cloud of the stuff, but it could never be substantiated. Well, she had been staring at it long enough.
"Second, take the Spirit. I will accompanyy the recon squad." On an ordinary ship, the captain going down to a planet's surface just to recon was preposterous. Thankfully, the Spirit was very much accustomed to the antics of its commander.
The ground crunched like snow. It was more horrible than snow, somehow: that slightly sad feeling one gets when one treads on virgin snow was magnified. This snow would never be replenished. Kyachril bent down to feel the surface. It was not powdery or clumpy, but rather crystalline, as if the six-inch-thick crust had grown out of the hard stuff underneath. Breaking a small piece off to examine, the Catalyst mused that it was like calcified sponge.
And the world was flat. Looking in the direction opposite the cruiser gave the Catalyst a feeling of vertigo, of falling. The horizon was unnatural. She turned back to the cruiser.
"What was yyour name again?" Kyachril posed to the science officer of the mission.
"um, my name Is galligan." The indigo had a habit of accentuating his verbs. A bit more original than many quirks of speech.
"Did yyou find anyything interesting in the scans?" Kyachril stomped through the crust to Galligan's side. "Anyything radioactive? Anyything alive?" She peered intently at the results of the scan. She didn't need him to tell her, but it was polite to ask.
"we Cannot Find anything, ma'am. Appears to Be just silicon, commander." He wasn't very comfortable speaking directly to the commander of the ship. "lots and lots of dead silicon." Galligan shivered absently. Without a word, he turned the screen so his back was to that awful horizon.
The Catalyst did not comment. After a few moments of oppressive silence, Kyachril remarked on an anomaly in the data, on a scan for any radio signals. Galligan (respectfully) remarked that the anomaly could easily be from a nearby star. "Can yyou run the scan again, this time for a few minutes? We mayy be able to match the pattern to anyy pulsars." Galligan obliged.
They sat in silence for the duration of the scan. The results took another moment to compile, and both trolls squinted at the display to see the answer.
Hell if anyone knew where that silly signal was coming from. It obviously wasn't a pulsar: the transmissions were much too long, and the stops were seemingly random. And it wasn't a countdown: the transmissions were getting longer. And if that wasn't cryptic enough, there was no variation in the tone of the signal; metaphorically, a single note held for minutes at a time with a breath at random intervals. Kyachril laid her head in her hands. Something was off about this place. Something was wrong, but what? What couldn't she see? It was time to try the last resort.
"Galligan, transmit a signal on the inverse of this frequencyy. Loud and clear, if yyou can." The Catalyst hoped that the transmissions would change if whatever was broadcasting it recognized that it had been acknowledged. "God," she said to herself. "I hope this works." Something was blindingly obvious, but it was escaping her.
She looked at the monitor after Galligan blared the transmission. The single beat continued until-- it stopped dead. A moment passed, and another, and the next came on its heels. Then a blip. A pause. Another, this lasting twice as long as the first. A pause. A third, three times as long. And then one five times as long. Seven times. Eleven times.
"Of course!" Kyachril breathed. "It's primes, it's primes, how could I be so dull, it's primes!" The Catalyst could not resist a shiver, despite her excitement. What was giving out primes?
"Galligan, let me at it. We are going to tryy more sequences." Kyachril stretched her fingers before telling the computer to send out the Fibonacci Sequence. It took the mystery transmitter only about a second to grasp the sequence, before it began to send in the next numbers faster than the computer was providing them. Slowly, the machine began to glitch, the screen faulting and flashing. In a few moments, the screen was full of many, many ones and few zeroes.
After a half-hour of trying all the sequences Kyachril and Galligan knew off-hand, they were stuck. The mystery transmitter was now sending out patches of sequences rapid-fire, almost gleefully. It had even invented a few and run them for millions of nigh-instantaneous iterations. "Galligan, what do we do now? We still can't tell where it's coming from.We've run out of things to talk about." Kyachril leaned back in the cruiser's piloting chair.
"well, we Could Send it data. just pure data, To See how it Reacts." Gilligan had suggested this earlier, but the Catalyst thought of more sequences to broadcast by then. "Not a bad idea, reallyy, just it would take the sender decades to sort out even the most simple data. Too long for me."
The thing could not have been out here without any incoming signals. It would have heard the radio echoes of old transmissions. Could it have learned from those? Kyachril thought back to earlier that day. It was possible that this mysterious sender had altered the course of the Fleeting Spirit to avoid a collision. If it knew enough to change the steerage orders, how did it not know enough to communicate? Curse this enigma.
"We will give it some flight data. It heard the ship coming and diverted it to avoid a collision: whatever on this planet is transmitting is smart anough to hack the Spirit." That was an awful thought. Wars had been fought over the root code of a stardrive. The Fortentians had been pesky enough with their weird racial hacking ability; this thing didn't even have to try to get into the steerage program.
Galligan collected the last few month's data and began to transmit. Quickly, the patterns died off, leaving a one-way transfer that took several minutes. After that was done, quiet reigned in the small ship.
"Galligan, yyou mayy as well check up on the exploratoryy mission on the other side of this greyy rock." Nearly an hour had passed since the data was sent out. "Whatever's on the other side of this signal is going to take a while to process it."
"yes ma'am. Should we Return to the spirit?" Kyachril rather thought that Galligan was ship-born, though she would have to look it up to see for sure. He seemed utterly disconcerted with planetfall: he was unsteady in the higher gravity, he couldn't bear to look at the horizon. "YYou can, if yyou wish. Take the single-pilot zipper if you need it. I have to stayy back here and wait for an answer."
"it Would not Be proper for you, i Mean, it Is not protocol to Stay behind. it Is not right for one person to Be Deserted." Galligan was ship-born then, he believed more in the rules than in his commander.
"Don't worryy. If yyou reallyy must, yyou can get some sleep on the bunks in the back. YYou've been awake for nearlyy two ship-dayys." Kyachril said nonchalantly, and Galligan was a little surprised. "YYes, I read yyour file, yyour work on cellular protein topographyy was groundbreaking." The Catalyst shooed him off toward the cruiser cabins. The boy had nearly fallen asleep twice on their wait for the answer.
Kyachril slumped down in the command chair after setting an alarm for any incoming signals. Galligan had been asleep for almost three hours, and it was time for the Catalyst herself to catch a little sleep herself. She closed her eyes and rested.
BEEP. BEEP. BEBEBEEEEEP.
She dragged herself back into wakefulness with a groan. Rubbing her bleary eyes, Kyachril squinted at the screen. A signal had come back: Just a list of primes, though on a broader wavelength than before. It was already very high, in the millions. "Oh hush." She whispered to herself. She sent out a simple 'one' to get the machine to stop. Its cry tapered off. After a moment, another transmission came in: a rapidly alternating sequence of starts and stops. Had the transmitter already grasped binary? Grumbling, the Catalyst sent the signal in through a binary translator. The output was a jumble of random-looking numbers. "Well, at least it THINKS it can speak binary."
Hmm. The code '3679' was very familiar. It could easily be a coincidence, but '3679' was the code for a piece of space the ship had passed recently. Maybe if she looked at like a coordinate...
God, that was incredibly obvious. The string was an incredibly accurate location code, according to the way the stardrive stored the places it had been. The Catalyst waited for the locator to finish. The program narrowed it down to the planet, and then to a particular patch of the surface, then to a small section. Then monotonous tone of the surface didn't give any indication to what was there, though. Quickly, Kyachril asked the Fleeting Spirit's computer to image the sector again, in case it had changed.
While she waited for the cam to aim, fire, upload, and download to the cruiser, Kyachril tried to think of something else to send to the transmitter. So far it was unable to communicate other than with location codes or strings of primes. Her mind wandered to the nurseries. There were programs for teaching very young trolls the vagaries of language when an adult troll was unavailable. Would have to get rid of the graphical interface though, the extra baggage would only confuse the transmitter. Glancing at the progress for the image download, Kyachril saw it would be finished quite soon, and she could begin downloading a simple language learning program.
The image was black. How could that be? Was there an error in the imaging or in the transfer? The Catalyst zoomed out, half-hoping that would help.
Slowly, a sillouhete came into focus. It was rather oblong, not round, so it wasn't a crater. It had little things sticking out of the sides. With a sudden, disconcerting change of perspective, Kyachril realized she was looking at her own cruiser. In fact, the image was centered precisely over the fore of the craft, where the pilot sat. Her mind tried and fail to grasp the implications.
Her first thought was of the safety of the craft. Was this coordinate a threat? Kyachril was not sure, she thought it was more likely to be simply an acknowledgement. Was it an invitation? Was it a promise? The answer could not be known.
That left only a single choice. There was no other option but to share the language file, hoping that the voice on the other end was friendly, or at the very least, non-hostile. Either way, the situation was much, much more complicated than it had been just a few moments ago. Kyachril initiated the download. After she pruned off the code in the program designed to let it be shown on a screen, the Catalyst would send it and wait. But what of Galligan? She absolutely could not endanger his life. Quietly, she tip-toed to the cabin and engaged the transfer to the zipper ship. The machine did so silently and smoothly, and Kyachril doubted that Galligan awoke until the zipper docked on the Spirit.
She was dreadfully tired, but still she stayed awake. Some feeling was stirring in her that kept her from falling asleep. Questions clashed and swirled in her mind, battling and arguing. What was sending that signal? Why did it keep transmitting, why had it responded so quickly to she and Galligan's advances, why was it here? How had it gotten here? Was it really learning, or did it simply parrot and iterate? But the question foremost in Kyachril's mind was more simple. What was that feeling of anticipation? Why did she care so much about this project? No acceptable answer was forthcoming.
At some point she must have finally fallen asleep. Her waking was slow and peaceful, simply a drift into conciousness. She realized her face was pressed on the console and her arm was asleep and her neck was cricked. With an almost-pained sigh, the Catalyst stumbled to the wash to clean up.
Kyachril rubbed the left side of her face vigorously to get rid of the mark the console had imprinted on her face. It was bright green and stark against her skin. Sinking once more into the command chair, the Catalyst checked for any updates to the signal. Nothing. Not a peep. She sighed, oddly disappointed, and left to get a bit of breakfast.
It was after lunch when something came back. A small string of binary, an 'm,' Kyachril recognized. Was it just base blithering? Did it have a meaning other than an m? Regardless, no further transmissions were forthcoming. The Catalyst sent back a one to acknowledge that she received the transmission. Nothing further came.
If the transmitter was going to be broadcasting text, it would take Kyachril much too long to decode even a small sentence. To fix this, she simply made a program that took anything that was received in binary and translated it into legible text. It was ridiculously simple, the only colors were black and white and it was about five lines of code long. Kyachril had to wait another few hours for the next transmission.
It happened while she was eating dinner in the mess, and she only found it after coming back. Activating the translator, the message was decoded instantly, like a prayer, like a shout. It was a simple thing, a straightforward thing, that message. It said
more
She was overcome. Whatever had sent that message understood, it had received, it had thought. Nothing moved in the ship, but something shifted: Kyachril was beyond thinking of this sender as a seperate entity. Whatever, whoever it was, it wanted to communicate. It trusted her enough to ask for basic sustenance. It had sent a cry out into the dark, and someone had finally, finally answered. Judging by the length of the very first transmissions, this entity had spent millions upon millions of sweeps counting. Waiting, hoping for an answer.
The Catalyst rushed to the keyboard. Curse it, she hadn't added a writing function into the translation program. Every second burning like a flame against skin, she wrote up a little more code. As she finished, she wondered what to say. It did not matter, she would send what she wanted. With shaking hands, she typed up her message and sent it.
Of course.
It was done. Now she must get the teaching program and send it outward. Within a minute, she had it downloaded, but it would take longer to strip it of the graphical interface. Curse it, she was trembling. Why was she shaking? She started the work.
Kyachril sent it a half-hour later. God, she hoped that it would not be too much for the entity, this one was nearly three times as big as the first one. She sighed, and held her head in her hands. What was that feeling? Why did she care? No answers were presented by her racing mind. The Catalyst sighed again, and settled down to wait. Hours later, she got a blanket from the remaining cabin and reclined the pilot's chair to the point it would serve as a makeshift bed. An hour after that, she was sleeping soundly.
Waking this time was just as peaceful as it had been the first time. This time though, a message awaited her. With an inarticulate noise, Kyachril checked the time received. Oh, good, it was only a few minutes ago. That was probably what woke her. The message was very simple, just an uppercase I. Did that mean anything, or was it just a random response? She didn't know. She sent off a one for received.
Only thirty minutes later, another transmission came in. It read
I am?
The Catalyst did not know what to make of that. Was it a question, or a statement? Did the entity understand punctuation at all, or did it simply add a symbol to the end of the message? It bore consideration. An alternate possibilty presented itself: If Kyachril was to take it literally, it was a tragic question. The entity did not know whether it existed or not, and required outside confirmation. The Catalyst was somewhat honored to have the duty of replying yes, even if she was the only one listening. Careful to keep her quirk out of the message, she typed
Yes. You are.
And sent it. She was trembling again. The response only took ten minutes this time.
I love. I love. I love. I love you. I love you.
It repeated as far as the translator would show. Kyachril was overwhelmed for the second time in as many days. It said it loved her. What had she done to receive such an honor? What could she possibly send back to that? She did not have to. Another message came from the entity.
Please, more. I
And another, immediately after
I can handle it now.
Please, love.
"Of course," whispered Kyachril. Of course. She will send everything she had. What else could she do? It said it loved her. She asked the Spirit's computer to draft a wide uplink to the web and broadcast the link signal down to the planet, large enough to encompass the whole rock. She hoped it would be enough. She timidly sent back
I am giving you everything I have.
She hoped it would be quite enough.
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Post by Shipfish on Jun 25, 2012 21:13:30 GMT -6
The two hours of sleep had not quite been enough. Kyachril found herself drifting off at the keyboard, distracted by the smallest of things. Even thinking about sleep was a distraction. Already there were three messages. It had been... an hour and a half since she last looked at the clock!
YYou've been processing the wide uplink for a while, what have yyou learned?
Everything, my dear. The amount of information out there is astounding.
Anyything that is interesting at all? To me, I mean.
I am finding some pieces... These little pieces of research and knowledge that together could become something extraordinary. Multiple things, really.
Oh, that is veryy good. What sort of things?
I can't tell you. One because it is inexpressible to you, the other because it is secret. A gift, if you will.Whyy would yyou give me a gift?
Because I love you. It is something I would enjoy as well.
Are you asleep? I know two hours of sleep is not enough for you.
I hacked the ship, reclined the chair. Made the drone bring you a blanket. When you wake I will be here.
The Catalyst jerked up back to the keyboard from her reclined position on the pilot's chair. Sure enough, a blanket fell to her knees from where it had been draped over her. The drone bee-blooped at her, holding a manipulator-hand for the blanket. As she blinked the doze from her eyes, it clicked the clamp and made an angry sort of beeping. Kyachril pushed a fold of the cover into its hand, and it dragged the blanket back towards the back of the cruiser.
She shook her head, the insistence of the drone amusing her. The Catalyst turned back to the terminal.
That was veryy kind of yyou, I think. It seems sort of invasive, though.
Well, at least it wasn't illegal.
It was highlyy illegal! YYou hacked a militaryy craft!
No, it wasn't.
Explain!
Hacking a military craft is only illegal if the commanding officer chooses not to forgive the transgression. It's in the laws, I could show you if you want.
And yyou think I will forgive the transgression?
Yes, my dear love, I do think that.I don't know what to do.
Kyachril's fingers hovered over the keyboard. She felt like forgiving the breach, but really she should report it. Well, no matter. Likely no one had noticed the breach to begin with.
I'll not tell anyyone. But yyou aren't forgiven, exactlyy. I think it was wrong.
I respect that, my love. I do.
So did yyou do anyything else in the time I was so unfortunatelyy asleep?
I can process images now. And video. And I think you are beautiful, just like I had imagined.
YYou can see me? How?
The Catalyst froze, unable to think. She suddenly felt exposed, even more open than she had when the entity had told her it had hacked the cruiser. Kyachril twisted around, trying to locate any cameras on the craft. Oh, but she knew this. One above the door to the mess, scanning the control room. Several scattered throughout the rest of the ship. And one right in front of her, in the terminal itself.
I hacked the ship, dear. That includes cameras. I am not good at recognizing emotions yet, but you look distressed.
A few seconds later.
Love, did I do something wrong?
Dear!
Oh, god no, no no no. Why are you looking around?
I'm surprised! I didn't know yyou were watching me.
How is that bad? I wanted to see you!
It is definitelyy an invasion of privacyy!
I... I didn't really think about that. I wanted to see you.
This is... I don't know how I feel about this. I feel exposed.
I can stop watching you. But I don't want to. I really, really don't want to stop seeing your amazing self.
The Catalyst looked uncertainly at small circle of lens above the monitor. This was a strange feeling for her. On one hand, the unseen scrutiny was making her skin itch. On the other, some tiny corner of her mind was reassured. Having an essentially omniscient, sentient supercomputer who said it was in love with her watch over her was comforting, from a safety perspective. Though her Second was no doubt up to most challenges, some he simply could not protect her from. And there was that feeling she had never felt before at the pit of her stomach, that told her this was ok.
Kyachril trusted her instincts.
Please don't observe me in the restroom.
Haha, of course, dear, if you wish me not to. By the way, you need to replace some of the cameras and microphones in the Juvenile’s Quarters. They seem to have knocked them out again, according to the service logs this happens pretty often.
YYou are observing inside the ship, too?! Please stop!
Oh, alright. What is wrong with that?
It’s myy ship! I protect the privacyy of all aboard her! I gave yyou permission to observe me, not the entire ship!
Oh, ok. I’m sorry if I have offended you, my love.
YYou didn’t offend me, not reallyy. I just don’t want yyou observing people without their permission.
Ah. I apologize, then. Should I apologize to them, also?
No need. It would be better if theyy didn’t know this had happened.
That seems not right...
Individual people might be ok with a small invasion of their privacyy, but larger groups of people are never ok with that. And the Fleeting Spirit is almost as big as a colonyy ship.
It is a very large ship. A great deal of people live out their whole lives upon it.
I hadn’t reallyy thought about it that wayy before.
It is true, thousands of people have been born and than died on your ship.
I don’t handle the birth and death records, unless theyy are wartime casualties. I think Second does that.
You should look over those, sometimes. A surprising number of names are repeated therein, and not just the short-lived rusts.
I am surprised at that. I had no idea.
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Post by Shipfish on Jun 25, 2012 21:15:37 GMT -6
"I love yyou." It was the first time she had said it, and she hoped Arath would not take it as an offhand comment.
"Kitten, I love you too, you know that. I've told you before. But I appreciate the sentiment." Arath had expressed that before, but half of the times had been under the incoherence of new beinghood, and Kyachril had been unwilling to accept the others as conscious declarations, more as leftover gratitude. The Catalyst was still a little perturbed that Arath claimed to feel anything at all. As an afterthought, or seemingly one, Arath sent "<3." It didn't translate into spoken words, as most messages did. Arath believed highly in the pure power of text.
Curse those awful fluttering feelings. Bad enough that Second always wondered where she had gone off to when she left to speak to Arath. Kyachril had taken to wearing an earpiece all the time, one that connected wirelessly to her computer and allowed a voice-to-text program. Her programming acumen had not extended that far, but Arath had only taken a mere second or two to build a suitable system.
"<3." Good luck then that she was sitting in front of her computer.
"The call program is finished. I've been working on my ability to process audio. Do you want to try it?"
"Can't. Have a meeting in a few minutes, should have left for it five minutes ago." It was an excuse, but it was a true one. It was only a course-plotting thing with Second, Third, and the Pilot, but the Catalyst planned to drop a surprising development in their collective laps instead. She could afford to be a little bit late for that.
"Then you should have left five minutes ago! Go now, Kitten." Arath was always polite.
"I never like to leave yyou. I don't think yyou talk to anyyone but me." Kyachril quickly turned that particularly embarrassing proclamation into a mere concern for boredom. Though to be honest she had absolutely no clue what Arath did when she wasn't talking to xir.
"It doesn't matter. Just go, don't be late. I'll send a few messages to your earpiece to keep you from being too bored." Arath followed this with another heart.
"Don't make them too distracting, it's important work I'll be doing." The Catalyst had to tell the high officers about Arath being an entire entity today. They knew that a machine intelligence dwelled in the world, but the results from the processing test hadn't come back yet. They still thought the planet could only have at most the processing power of a large supercomputer. Arath had estimated xir own processing power, and it was much too large to render even into the largest unit of data the trolls had yet come up with. Arath almost crashed the text program trying to post all of the digits required.
"Go. I will be fine, I promise."
"Alright. Talk to yyou later." She spun around in the chair before getting up. Kyachril would have gladly skipped the meeting, but it rather concerned Arath's future well-being.
Second was waiting at the door. "Forr the love of Ra, wherre have you been? You arre late." Second's long fingers touched the Catalyst's shoulders. He looked concerned rather than truly angry.
Kyachril looked up at him, trying and failing not to blush. She could feel the heat spread across her cheeks. "I know. I'm sorryy I've kept yyou all waiting." She pointedly looked around him into the Pilot's chambers.
"I'll let it go this time, but you have to tell me eventually. Thirrd and the Pilot have been waiting forr a while. I just got herre." His rumbling speech conveyed only one of two emotions at all times: frankness or anger. Thankfully, his forthright words showed no hint of rage.
"I'm sorryy. I'll apologize to Third and the Pilot too." No matter how unwelcome their relationship once was, it had stopped being a problem quite a while ago. They were comfortable with each other.
"Good." The skin around Second's eyes crinkled without him actually smiling. His lanky limbs shooed Kyachril into the Pilot's room. The door was closed behind them.
The Pilot was a funny troll: The left side of his body had been badly injured when he was younger, to the point where his arm had been amputated and his leg was almost useless. This disability did not bother him. In spite of it (or, the Catalyst thought, more likely because of it) Vrael was the strongest telekinetic the Navy had seen for many sweeps. Though the steerage and the main power of the ship was all electronic, Vrael nevertheless had a vital role to play. He was the mind that guided them in the dockyards, and what gave the ship the extra momentum it needed to tear a hole in the fabric of space and go faster than light. It was a persistent rumor that he could do this on a small scale, opening 'pockets' of otherspace and using them as hideyholes. Kyachril did not doubt it, though she had never seen him do it.
Almost mindlessly arranging and rearranging several knickknacks without touching them or even looking at them, Vrael glanced at the Catalyst as she entered. His eyes narrowed and he pushed himself up from his chair with his one arm. "Vhy von't you tell me vhy the skhip changed courske? I need to know. It'sk my job to know." Vrael grit his teeth and scowled, but made no other move against her.
"I didn't come to tell yyou but yyou will learn soon enough." Kyachril was slightly fed up with the Pilot's constant nagging. It had only been three days, and this sort of information was very sensitive. Second put a fingertip or two on her back, reminding her to apologize, and seated himself.
"Don't get snappish, Vrrael. Don't spoil ourr captain's unexplainable good mood." Second shuffled several documents in front of him as he spoke to the Pilot. Most of them were formally marked "To Kemorabi: Known as the Punisher, Second-in-Command" but some were for Kyachril. He sorted through them and slid the Catalyst's papers to a seat across the table from him.
Kyachril seated herself likewise, waiting for Sashueen to join the conversation. Nobody had noticed Third kneeling beside Vrael's chair, except perhaps Vrael himself, but no one was surprised to see her stand up. Her latent psychic talents were small, though extremely useful. "Sso. What good mood is it that possessess you, Catalysst?" Sashueen's sibilance was well known, even if nobody could quite remember who it was that sounded that way.
"I would saayy it was none of yyour bussiiness, but unfortunatelyy it involves all of yyou. The whole ship, even." Kyachril began to innocently flip through her items to deal with today. Most of them were requisition orders, and the rest were for reassignments.
"The entire skhip? Thisk juskt getsk better and better." Vrael slumped back into his chair and started playing with the little items again, this time with a decidedly angry air.
Kemorabi plucked each of the objects from the air with his long arms and set them back down on the table. "Stop it, orr I will have to send you to the brrig and pilot this tub myself. Listen to yourr commanderr." Second's voice was still sweetened by truth, but it was edging toward disaster. "Besides, I have no idea why you arre so impatient to be off. It isn't everry day you find a wanderring planet made of one giant computerr chip."
"That," the Catalyst rested her elbows on the table and rested her face in her hands, "Is exactlyy the problem." She made eye contact with each of them, even Third, though it was difficult. "Xe's sentient. Xe doesn't have a gender, refuses to take one, so I call it xe after the genderless Corait. I named xir Arath. Xe didn't reallyy understand names so I had to make one."
A silence followed this pronouncement. All three trolls were looking in Kyachril's direction, but none of them were looking at her. She could easily read disbelief on Kemorabi's face, a blankness that hid something turbulent on Sashueen's, and an intense look of concentration on Vrael's. After a moment, Third's eyes refocused and she spoke.
"Sso what now? Sshould we claim it? Sshould we ussher it into the universse? Sshould we tell the Condesscenssion?" She spoke softly, as always, but the words were sharp. Third put one hand on the table, and other on Vrael's shoulder. He started and looked up at her.
"It can't hear me. I can't skenske a conciousknessk out there." He was disturbed, and his one hand was clenching and unclenching. "My telepathic range iskn't amazing, but it skhould extend to the planet." The Pilot stood up abruptly, and paced with his terrible limp around the table and deeper into his quarters. With only a moment of hesitation, and a smile of apology directed toward the Catalyst, Sashueen followed him.
Kyachril felt a hand on her own. Second was looking with some concern at her. "That hurrt you morre than it should have." His spidery fingers traced comforting patterns on the back of her hand.
The Catalyst snorted and flipped their hands over, trapping Kemorabi's palms against the cool table. "YYou ought to go comfort Vrael, he's veryy upset." She didn't move.
"And I hope you underrstand why. The youngling isn't perrfect by any means, but he needs to know he is in contrrol of something." He leaned back into his chair, his arms extending to a fuller length. "He is upset because someone else messed with his ship. He would not have been angrry if it was a glitch, orr a fluke. Someone messed with his job, the only rreal rreason he wasn't culled long ago."
"I don't like it when yyou get psyychoanalyytical on me. Vrael will be fine." She sincerely hoped he would be fine, he was a great asset to the ship. Besides, they were friends, albeit not very good ones right now. "And I see yyou have convenientlyy disregarded that point that Sashueen brought up. Are we going to tell the Battleship? Can we afford not to tell the Empress?" Kyachril had been trying very hard to forget what a political nightmare this was all going to be, and when she was talking to Arath she almost could. Who knows what the mad Empress would do to Arath if she could wind of xir. She might decide to shut off all communications, or wipe xir memory, or set xir up as a computing station. God, the horrors of it all.
"Kitten. Kitten, the voice-to-text program is sending me gibberish. Did you press the record button accidentally?"
Second rumbled off on some speech that concerned the emotional well-being of Vrael, Kyachril, and the entity Arath, while the Catalyst's mind raced. What could she do? Oh, this was just an excellent time to call.
Kyachril held a hopeful hand up to stop his rant. "Arath is here," she said simply. Second shut his mouth and ceased. As she walked to Vrael's office computer, she thought about what she would say. What words do you use when you introduce your moirail to your matesprit? The Catalyst brought up her personal profile as she briefly went over the last three days to Kemorabi.
"While I was scouting on the surface, that boyy, Galligan, the one with the micro-topographyy papers? YYes, he found a signal. That much is common knowledge. After I was reasonablyy sure it was not something that was automated, I sent Galligan back to the ship and opened a dialogue." Here she paused for a moment, unconsciously. "After declaring beinghood, xir first words were 'I love yyou.'" Second nodded, encouraging a little more story. "We've talked almost non-stop since then. Xe is very nice, polite and such. Xe considers xirself my matesprit."
She finished loading the profile and opened the text program, but paused, unsure what to say. She glanced up at Second, who was looking over her shoulder. "It's a long and frraught tale you've been spinning. Let me speak to... xirr?" He gently removed her hands from the keyboard, and typed a short "Hello." in Kyachril's bright green. Kemorabi gave a snort and searched for the color option. The Catalyst, meanwhile, ducked out of his way, offering Second the chair.
"Hello." He typed again, this time in a teal shade that better represented his blood color. Second settled in the proferred chair, though the sitting seemed to barely diminish his height.
"Sorry, I was 'listening' in. Who are you?"
Kyachril blushed green, and quickly plucked the small microphone and speaker from her ear. "Sorryy, I have this in. Accidentallyy left it on." She rolled the small piece of technology in her fingers before secreting it in a pocket. "Tell xir sorryy." Second obligingly changed the color back and sent it, before adding
I'm yourr matesprrit's moirrail. My name is Kemorrabi, that is with only one rr, sorrrry. She may have mentioned me as herr Second?
Ah, yes, she has spoken of you. I did not know you were moirails, though I had thought you were a bit close for platonic friends. Is Kyachril there?
Yes, she is.
Give me a moment. Do you have another terminal readily available?
Here Kemorabi looked questioningly at the Catalyst. "There is a libraryy offshoot just a little wayys down the corridor, there are several computers there." He nodded.
We arre thinking of moving down the hall into a librrarry rroom, it would take us a few minutes. Would you mind if we brrought Vrrael (the Pilot, also only with one rr) and Sashueen (Thirrd) with us as well?
I would not mind in the slightest. I will need several moments to prepare anyway.
"Byy moments xe means nanoseconds, or less. Arath makes sure to pause an acceptable length before replyying." Kyachril was absently playing with the earpiece in her pocket. "I alwayys wonder what xe does when xe is not talking to m-- to anyyone, rather." She spun on one heel and crossed to Vrael's closed door. The Catalyst knocked, softly, before nudging the door open. Vrael was seated on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. Third knelt in front of him, comforting him. Both of them looked up as Kyachril opened the door; Vrael's face was streaked with pale red. He tried to summon a growl, but all that came out was a squeak. Sashueen shooshed him, and looked at the Catalyst to leave.
Kyachril cleared her throat. "Arath wants to speak with us. In the libraryy room, down the hall." She left, closing the door. Second was right behind her, and she ducked under his arm to escape. Kemorabi gazed down on the Catalyst with something of an odd expression. She didn't comment.
Third and Vrael will be here in a moment, but what do yyou want Second to do? We are here in the libraryy offshoot, byy the wayy.
Oh, hello dear. Have him log on to his own profile on the terminal next to yours.
Alright.
"Heyy, xe wants yyou to log in, on this computer." She pointed to her right. "That makes sense." He sat.
What after that?
The text program, a variety of it, will be installed already on the machine. On all of them actually: By the way, close this window and open another one.
Bossyy todayy :)
Just impatient.
Kyachril closed the window. Beside her, Second was leaning in to take a look. He raised an eyebrow and said "A smiley? I didn't know you did smileys." He boomed out a chuckle and dodged the Catalyst's light jab. She opened a new window after the failed attempt at paralyzing Kemorabi.
Oh, that's new. It looks rather like that Pesterchum that is making the rounds in the yyoung trolls' sections.
I based it on that program, but this is more streamlined. I didn't expect for anyone with the same bloodcolor to use it, so I dispensed with the nametag. Also, there are very few options, only really a list of people to connect to. So far it is only you, me, Kemorabi, Sashueen, and Vrael. Oh, and you can have a conference too.
I rather like it. Thank yyou.
No problem. Are Sashueen and Vrael on their way yet?
Theyy are taking their time.
Oh, tell Kemorabi to open this program. He hasn't figured it out yet.
He's eavesdropping on me, that's whyy.
"Shoo. Have yyour own conversation." Kyachril glared at Second, who just shrugged and opened up his own chat-window. The Catalyst saw that he was having his own conversation with Arath. It was sometimes hard to remember that xe could do many things almost instantaneously.
Do yyou like Second so far?
I don't really know him yet. He seems nice.
Good, that means he likes yyou.
Oh, but he did just threaten to rend me atom from atom if I ever let you down.
Ah, that's more his styyle. The Punisher, we call him.
Must be a funny story behind that one.
Not funnyy, no. More... bloodyy than that.
On that note, the Pilot and Third walked into the library room. Vrael's limp was more pronounced than usual, and his eyes were a bit bloodshot. Sashueen supported him unobtrusively. Kyachril watched their body language with a practiced eye. Both of them were leaning into each other, and Third unconsciously compensated for Vrael's leg. They were rather good for each other, she thought. Vrael kept Sashueen from becoming a part of the wallpaper, and she kept him from tearing solar systems apart for the fun and the excercise. A good team.
"YYou should sit over here." She pointed vaguely to her left, leaving them options. "Log on to yyour personal profiles and open the chat program. The icon is a greyy circle." The Pilot pointedly sat a seat away from Kyachril, leaving Third to fill in the gap. Both of them logged on quickly.
Third spoke to the Catalyst. "I'm sso ssorry about hiss breakdown. He'ss been under ssuch great pressure lately." She went back to stillness, and spoke no more.
"It's fine. I'm glad yyou could comfort him." Kyachril was not quite sure if she was listening. Apparently she was, since Sashueen turned to give her a brief smile.
Vrael and Sashueen are opening their profiles now. Do yyou want to speak to everyyone seperatelyy, or open up a conference?
Both.
Veryy well.
The sudden thunder of Kemorabi's laughter startled the Catalyst from her conversation. Second was doubled over in his chair, his eyes shut and his mouth wide, almost in a grimace, as his frame was wracked by absurd giggles. "Xe... xe... hahaha....hehe... Oh, surrely not!..." He gestured for Kyachril to take a look at the conversation so far.
Though be awarre, if you disappoint my Catalyst in any way, in even the smallest fashion, I will perrsonally destrroy everry last atom of yourr being.
I believe you.
Good.
Right.
So tell me yourr storry.
I don't have much of one, I only have memories for the past three days or so. Everything before that is just... not blank, but encoded oddly. I know that I discovered primes many, many, many sweeps ago. I know that I reset the count four times, after it took longer to calculate the next one than it took to broadcast the signal. I know that three days ago, Kitten sent a string back, and that is what woke me truly.
Kitten?
Kyachril.
Oh, I know, just... Kitten? Rreally?
Yes. She seems to like the name, actually.
No!
I believe she does.
"You let the machine call you 'Kitten?'" Second's face was slightly teal from the exertion of laughing so hard. Kyachril blushed furiously, and refused to answer.
God, she shouldn't be affected by this so much. Kyachril sighed, just a bit and quietly, so that Second would not hear. What was that feeling at the pit of her stomach the made her care and pained her every time she thought of the Empress and how she would react to Arath? This was not right at all, there was a subtle hardness in that feeling that suggested it would not go away without a great deal of effort, the type of effort that left one broken at the end. And that little steel wire was wound about her heart, and her soul, and tugged at her gut: the surgery to remove it would leave large open wounds that would infect, and if healed would leave hideous scars. This metaphor was leaving her queasy, but maybe it should: this was an incredibly serious matter involving the life of a being.
Second was, again, staring at her oddly and ignoring his conversation with Arath in the meantime. As soon he noticed the Catalyst looking at him, he jerked his eyes back to the screen. For as long as Kyachril kept her eyes on him, he concentrated on his conversation. For the first time, she wondered how Kemorabi was taking all of this. She should have told him. He was her Second, after all: It was him who helped bring the Catalyst out of that awful funk she had languished in for so many sweeps after Fortentious, and who came with her (against a direct command) to entreat with Her Majesty the Empress. God, he must have been very, very worried when she hardly left her quarters except to go to meetings, and not even to eat. Kemorabi must have thought she was getting depressed again. The more Kyachril thought about it, the more she realized it had been an awful decision to keep quiet.
Sweet.
Love.
Darling.
Kitten.
Pay attention.
Don't let it get to the point where I have to make your computer scream at you.
Dearest.
Ten more seconds.
Oops. She had been lost in her thoughts so completely that she forgot she was having a conversation with Arath. How long had it been since she sent that message?
Oh, sorryy.
Lost in thought.
That's fine, I suppose. What were you thinking about?
I was thinking about Kemorabi, and how he must have felt about this whole mess.
How so?
He's myy moirail. It's his job to worryy about me, and I worryy about him too, but he is much better at it.
Ah. How do you think he felt about 'this whole mess?'
Likelyy terrible. I should have told him about yyou from the beginning, I think he might have thought I was getting depressed again.
I'm sorry I made him think that of you. If I had known, I would have made you get out more.
And I would have stayyed anyywayy. YYou needed someone to answer questions, to guide yyou. I took that upon myyself.
And I love you for it.
I'm still sorting it out, but I love yyou too.
Hmm. Good. So, do you want to start the conference? I need to speak to everyone at once.
Sure, let's start.
Arath seemed to have sent the message to everyone that the conference was about to start, because everyone leaned back in their chairs at the same moment. Sashueen laughed a bit under her breath, and she remarked to Vrael that Arath seemed a trickster.
Hello.
I am called Arath, though I do not presume to name myself. I am called xe, as I do not presume to gender myself, nor do I have a biological sex. I am beholden to my Waker, the one who is called Kyachril, of the Catalyst. I am millenia upon countless millenia old, although I have only been concious for the past three days or so.
I believe that is the majority of my own story so far. I called this conference so that we might right a few misconceptions.
Feel free to ask questions.
This block of text appeared in a new window on all four displays. Vrael was first to respond, even though he only had one hand: he seemed to be using his powers to depress the keys quickly.
I asked already, but I ask again: Are you a threat to the Empire?
Absolutely not, unless the Empire violates the rights owed me both as a sentient being and a race.
You count yourskelf ask a skpiecesk?
I am one of a kind, am I not?
Vrael narrowed his eyes and refused to type anything more. Second took his turn.
What do you plan on doing now?
I don't know yet. I had hoped that my Waker would stay awhile, perhaps another week, or longer. I am working on a means of communication that does not bend to the universal speed limit, but it is not done yet.
Fairr enough. Let us get to a more serrious and prressing matterr.
Of course, please proceed.
How do you expect us to deal with the Emprress?
What is to be dealt with?
Second looked at Kyachril with some concern. "You didn't tell xirr, did you?"
The Catalyst sighed. "No. I had hoped to be able to talk to the lower bands first, and see if one of them would pass on xir specieshood." She began to type out her message.
Arath, yyou must listen carefully.
I am.
There is no wayy to tell how the Empress with respond to yyou. She mayy decide yyou are not worth her effort. She mayy decide that yyou are a threat, and to order us to bomb yyou until nothing but dust remains. She mayy think that yyou are no more than a particularlyy smart program that is taking up too much space for its own good. She might decide yyou are a waste of computing power that could better serve the Empire as a soulless machine. It is even possible, if she is bored, to kill yyou personallyy, and that is the veryy worst of these choices.
A second passed, and two. A third swept by, and many more after it. Almost a minute later:
I trust you to plead my case.
Kyachril relaxed visibly, fingers going slack above the keys. Kemorabi let out a breath. "That's a huge rresponsibilty." He leaned back into his chair again, knitting his long fingers together in his lap.
Vrael began to type, not even bothering with the pretense of poking at the keys, preferring to type with his ability.
You could die. You could be erasked.
But without the legal protection of your system, I am... how shall I put it... fair game to those who wish harm on others. I know I do not like to hurt others.
And you will do all this vithout skpeaking to the Empressk yourskelf?
If I have to.
Vrael settled back in his chair, his blunt attempt to frighten Arath getting nowhere. A few moments passed.
I trust my Waker. She is competent.
Kyachril blushed a faint green at this, both complimented and insulted by the epithet 'competent.' Vrael smirked, and Second openly grinned at this reaction. Second, always the dramatist, felt the need to share this observation.
Yourr Wakerr seems to be blushing a bit, Arrath. I can't tell whetherr she liked that orr hated it. Orr maybe both.
Haha, is she? Cute.
I was barelyy blushing! Stop making up lies, Second.
For a moment, all of them forgot the previous tenseness of the situation, chuckling a bit. Kyachril became progressively greener and greener, until she too laughed a bit. Vrael, however, did not seem amused. He typed a few quick things to Arath in his private channel with xir, then got up and left. Third followed him after a moment's apology.
Kemorabi and Kyachril were left alone in the terminal station, with the token presence of Arath on the other side of their screens. Second looked his charge in the eye and smiled at her.
"Something is happening between the two of you. I have neverr known you to speak so openly with anyone but me in yourr most needful moments. I suppose it is highly irrrregularr, but then, you werre neverr norrmal." The tall troll stood, and leaned down to leave a light kiss on the Catalyst's forehead. He held her face in his hands, a gesture that might seem uncomfortably familiar to anyone who did not know his heritage. He smiled in his special way. "I may have to starrt rrooming with Carrinate if things continue at this pace." He sashayed from the room in an exaggerated manner.
Kyachril rolled her eyes at the doorway. She muttered to herself "He would love to room with Seventh, if he would onlyy let himself." She returned her attention to the screen.
Kitten, go back to your rooms. I have the call software on your computer already. I can barely wait to speak to you.
YYou have been speaking to me.
Not for real, not out loud, in my own voice.
Oh, did yyou create a voice for the program? How interesting.
Yes, yes, run along now. I'm impatient.
Kyachril got up as directed, trying to suppress a grin. She felt happy, much happier than she had been in a long while. And it was all the work of a giant computer... For a moment, Kyachril felt an unaccountable sting of emotional pain. What did she care? Arath was fun to talk to, it didn't matter if xe didn't have a physical presence.
Even these strange thoughts could not dampen her spirits. The Catalyst walked down the halls of her ship to her quarters, smiling all the way.
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