Interlude-Autopilot

(English)

It was not even ten grams of metal. Madeline had it pinched carefully, holding stock still, not wavering a single millimeter.

<Madeline…>

<Shut up Ben.>

<It's low.>

<No, it isn't. You're viewing it at a steep angle. It's fine.>

<If you're wrong, we're not going to have gravity for another two weeks!>

<Feel free to cascade the setup yourself.>

<Don't be a dick,> Ben sulked.

His cascade was bizarrely terrible for someone whose specialty was devices even more complex and intricate than Madeline's.

The tiny slip of Dysprosium was pinched, not in Madeline's fingers, but rather between the rubber tongs of a miniature robot she'd mocked up for this exact purpose. Psionics could twist thought into mechanically consistent interactions, but muscles were still woefully subject to human error.

No, best leave it to the machines for this task.

Directed psionically, Madeline's robotic arm leaned forward a few microns per second, with five different people scrutinizing every tiny motion.

Ben was not exaggerating about the severity of the consequences if she screwed this up.

<…It's still under the stream, right?>

<I've still got it,> Vez assured.

It was imperative the slip of metal stay in a completely oxygen-free environment. Madeline didn't have any idea why it was so important the Dysprosium stay unoxidized, but it had been delivered in a hermetically sealed container.

Triple layered.

It was serious business. But to transfer the metal into the Clark Kent's artificial gravity rig, it had to be removed from that container.

The solution was to pour a constant stream of inert quasi-Argon gas over the sample while it was transferred on top of using an air barrier to make sure the workspace was filled with only nitrogen gas.

Vez was handling the Argon. Ben was watching the air barrier. Madeline was actually slotting the delicately engineered sliver of metal into the core.

Quartermaster Murgoi was waiting with bated breath too, Captain Serral right beside him. Half the Siegfried's crew was waiting for this maintenance to be finally finished.

Madeline refused to rush though.

The little robot was carefully designed to move exactly how she imagined, down to micron tolerances. It was easy going. No need to think about how angry people will be if she screwed up.

<Oh great one, what is my purpose?> she joked.

<…You…pass butter?> Ben tried.

<There you go," she joked.

The component was finally in place, but there was no click or light. Her little machine gingerly backed away from the slip of metal, now nestled carefully between two loops of wire at the center of the rig. One wrong breath would be enough to tumble it free, hence, air masks on top of all the other measures.

Madeline backed through the air-barrier careful not to push through it too quickly. They'd already screwed this up two days ago by agitating the air in the room enough for some oxygen to reach the Dysprosium.

She waited until Murgoi pushed structural pins into place, reassembling the gravity rig, and a thick metal plate finally slid between the splinter and all that unwanted oxygen.

"…Clear," Murgoi finally declared, pulling his own head out of the Nitrogen bubble.

"Awesome," Madeline breathed, pulling off her mask. She didn't know how Caleb put up with carrying one in his pocket at all times, much less wearing it as much as he did.

"If this worked, how much longer are we going to be weightless?" Serral asked. "Ike and Carteev are ready in the mess for the second we're back online."

"Ten minutes to complete diagnostics on the rig," the quartermaster replied. "Once it checks out, we can just throw a lever."

"There won't be any complications if we resume configuration early, will there?"

"No. It'll be a pain if the diagnostics turn up some other problem and we're weightless even longer anyway, but we have checked every item on the list three times now. I'm going to be dumbfounded if this somehow still doesn't work."

"Well don't try too hard to jinx us," Serral grunted. "Madeline, good work."

He headed out and Maddie didn't hesitate to follow.

Floating their way through the A-ship really highlighted exactly what problems zero-G living caused. Foodcrumbs from the mess three decks up still lingered in corners. The air was rank since showers were nigh impossible. Cooking real meals was equally problematic—a tragedy mitigated only slightly by the creation of better ration meals than the nutrient bricks their abductors had originally left them with.

The ISS must be terrible.

Dirdten was awaiting Serral at the hatch to the Siegfried, folder of documents in hand.

"Ase, I have our next destination," the Casti said. "Omag."

"The [Ramstein] group isn't on Omag, I thought," Serral frowned.

"Trust me," the aide said. "Even if the Siegfried still goes elsewhere? The real priority is on Omag."

"Willy's list of priorities said we should see the humans on Gantosine," Madeline reminded him.

"And Junior Maxwell's instincts are excellent," Dirdten said crisply. "But Junior Dixon and I have encountered new information that our friend William didn't."

"Ah," Serral said, handing the folder to Madeline. "Third paragraph."

Madeline scanned the documents.

Food supply rates, stockpiles, projected prices around Hashtin's various moons. It was heartening to see how much alien help the abductees had received in so many different places, but there was still a lot of work in keeping all the various people fed and housed safely. Enough that most of it was all over her head. She was more about the nuts and bolts.

Speaking of…

The paragraph Serral pointed out referenced a…'special operations group' and a mission to investigate a food production plant on Omag that taken a strange turn. Madeline was vaguely aware that the moons of Hashtin had enough people and infrastructure to have their own military, government, and intelligence agencies as well as the tangles that came with them, but it was still strange to see them referenced here.

Not nearly as strange as the sentence: 'Robotic drones discovered...not Adept made…operating remotely.'

"SPARK", Madeline recognized the AI's handiwork.

"My money says ENVY," Serral says. "Nora and Ken have long suspected ENVY likes to keep to Vorak controlled space. Caleb and I have a decent feel for SPARK's drives, and this doesn't seem like one of his games."

"I thought ENVY was ducking everyone," Maddie said. "It's been that way for years."

"We're talking about a conspiracy network of intelligent machines that's evaded detection for…well, we have no idea how long; clearly they're all adept at hiding. But they didn't just dematerialize into the ether. ENVY might have been avoiding all contact, but she has to exist somewhere while she does. Maybe this is it," Serral said.

"So what's my job? You want me to hit the ground, talk to local law, see what they know, then check it out for myself?" she asked.

"That depends if you can tell both things wrong with what you just said," Serral replied.

Maddie paused, recognizing the feeling of having tapped the gas just a hair too much. Puppies. Universally loved, but also often too dumb for their own good.

"…I wouldn't be just 'me'…and more importantly, I'm not going to 'check out' anything unless it's safe."

What went unsaid was the universal truth that every abductee felt in their bones, no matter how much work Caleb and the others put in to protect everyone.

They were not safe.

…But she could at least be less cavalier.

"Correct on both counts," Serral said. "Dirdten, do you have a psionic copy of the file?"

"You know how I feel about psionics…" the aide said disdainfully.

"But do you have one anyway?"

"Yes, Ase."

Serral clicked and nodded toward Madeline, taking back the physical copy.

Dirdten might not have liked psionics, but he was good at them. Maddie caught the file he flicked her way and immediately started chewing through it.

It was a redacted report that technically came through the Organic Authority. The robots' exotic components had the initial Vorak worried this was a reploid outbreak, but more experienced Adept eyes could tell otherwise, even without knowing about ENVY and her ilk.

"Look it over. Be prepared. I want our team to be small. I figure you, Vez for muscle if we really need it. Shinshay too, because they'll want to reserve the right to study the robots first."

That made sense. One role was missing though.

"Ike to lead it then? Make the decisions?" she asked.

"I think this is a potentially delicate situation, and our normal Vorak social lubricants are occupied. So I'll handle the mission personally," Serral said.

"What about the rest of the Ramstein kids? We aren't diverting the whole Flotilla, are we?"

"Ike and Fenno can take the Harriet and handle the business with the abductees on Gantosine."

Half of her brain knee-jerked toward Ike and Fenno. Ike wasn't that experienced. Fenno wasn't either—okay, no that was a lie. She was the second oldest alien in the Flotilla. And with even a millisecond more to think it through, Ike was no slouch either. He'd had the good sense and cool head to avoid becoming one of the Puppies.

Still, this was out of left field.

"Umm…Captain, Sir…I don't think I've ever seen you go out on a mission," Madeline said.

"Neither has Caleb," Serral mused. "You know the worst part about being in charge?"

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Being stuck behind a desk?"

"That's it exactly. But do you know the best part about having crewmates like you Humans, desperate, eager, and thrilled to learn?"

"No, Captain."

"It means I get to be replaceable," Serral smiled. "Study that report more. We'll spend another day in this orbit getting our gravity rigs back in working order, but then this Flotilla is heading for the other moons."

None of the abductees were true military, so Serral had asked they not give him salutes—Casti or otherwise.

But she still gave a very 'at attention' nod before floating her way back the Siegfried. Aarti was away from the Flotilla on loan to Nora's group, so Madeline had their bunk all to herself.

She materialized a cushy chair and blankets to keep her from floating away while she read both the report and an alien manual on exotic mechanical engineering possibilities.

Madeline was riding the high of having put together a machine really well, but reading Serral's robot report quickly brought her mood back down.

The Vorak report on the robots was too filled with hysteria to be helpful. To date, the only genuinely self-sustaining reploid event had occurred on one of their colonies. Caleb said it made them more alarmist about the prospect of another outbreak, even though all but the one proved unsustainable for more than a few days or weeks.

They were a scary prospect in theory, but they burned themselves out too fast.

No, in a way, the robots were actually worse.

They were subtle. Serral was right; half the reason the AIs were terrifying was because it was impossible to know how long they'd been around. Reploid incidents had an expiration date, but the AI's? Their network? It was opaque. They could have been lurking in the corners of interstellar society for a century. More even. From the moment the Beacons first abridged space…

Was it possible that the AI's creator was actually long dead?

The AIs called each other siblings. Maybe that was why SPARK, ENVY, and CENSOR didn't get along. Inheritances could turn any family into a flock of buzzards, squabbling for who got to control their dear old dad's assets.

That was one family drama that had never played out for Madeline. Yet.

It wasn't hard to imagine though.

She'd known her parents were monsters even without being abducted. That first year aboard the A-ships had left Maddie and the others with nothing to do but talk and avoid any 'Lord of the Flies' situations. Talking with Aarti, Drew, and Jean had confirmed what Madeline already knew about her parents.

The worst part was knowing how much she'd picked up her parents' worst habits. Their stubbornness masquerading as conviction. She'd almost gone through with an act of terrorism just because an alien lawyer convinced her it was a good idea.

…Actually, no. The worst part was knowing that her six siblings were back home still having her parents' bullshit shoveled into their brains.

Were the AIs the same way? Did they have some common ground, just by virtue of having a shitty creator? Then again, their parent might not be that shitty. It was totally possible the AIs all hated their creator as much as each other.

That made her feel guilty all over again. She fought so much with her siblings, especially her older brother. He still had to put up with mom's subtle negativity disguised as resignation. How old would her youngest sister go before she realized dad fully planned on marrying her off? There were only so many back handed compliments a girl could swallow before she dreaded every word out of her family's mouths.

So now Madeline felt like this was the adventure of a lifetime out in space.

She'd felt so guilty for years now, she wasn't sure she knew how to react properly to the emotion. Caleb said everyone would understand, and she even felt like she agreed.

But turning that feeling and awareness into real belief and agreement…she wasn't ready to do that. She couldn't. Guilt sprang up in her anew every time she evaluated herself, because every time she arrived at the conclusion she'd rather live in a smelly zero-G spaceship eating woodchips and lard than go back to her shitty parents on Earth.

The one line for her was she'd never keep anyone else from getting home. Her shitty family was not a reason to half-ass the search for Earth, their abductors, or the AIs.

Whatever fucked up family dynamics she and ENVY might have in common, Madeline doubted there was any insight to be had. At least not today.

In the meantime, she and Serral both knew that this was the kind of task that both needed doing and bred danger. So it would normally fall in Caleb's lap.

But he was on vacation.

So it would fall in Jordan's lap. Or Johnny's.

But they were both on Kraknor with Caleb.

For the first time, it occurred to Madeline that she might be the strongest person present. Chief of Security Vez was the only real competition. The Farnata was good but couldn't hold a candle to Nai.

Holy crap. Even if just by default, danger assignments would land on her plate right now. Scratch that—Serral had just handed her a file talking about ENVY and a Vorak black ops team on another moon—they already were.

Oh, that realization is going to hit home more than once, she thought.

She needed to talk to someone.

Jordan had granted her one of the superlocator's pearls before departing, and Drew had one too. Maybe she and Aarti weren't busy off on other human missions?

Her offer of a psionic phone call rang once, twice, three times…no answer. Voicemail didn't really exist for a system as flexible as psionics, but she felt the temptation to try leaving a message, just to express herself.

But no. She wanted to talk to someone. Get some dialogue going.

Maybe…Caleb?

No. Terrible idea. Too many bad memories were floating through her head right now. She'd probably just say something embarrassing.

She thought about trying Drew and Aarti again through the pearl, but there was another option. Jordan carried a lot of respect among the Puppies, and she had a sister out in space with her. Madeline knew siblings could get along in concept, but she'd never really gotten to see it for herself until the two of them.

And unlike Drew, she wouldn't have to leave a message. The feedback from the pearl itself indicated Jordan was asleep and therefore reachable through the pearl.

Her friend was on a completely different planet, but Madeline prodded her like she was just on the other side of the room.

Ring, ring—non-emergency…

<Madeline, hi.>

<Did I wake you up?> she asked.

<No, I think you caught me in the right phase of REM. Non-emergency? What are you—>

The connection faltered for a moment.

<—eeding to talk ab—>

<You're breaking up,> Madeline tried.

Silence…more silence…

<It's not on my end,> Jordan said. <You're too awake.>

<Gimme a second.>

Jordan's superlocator could be a fickle thing. Unless you had a complementing superconnector in your head, pearls were only good for communication if one of the two people were asleep. Or at least on the verge of unconsciousness. But even then, it could be spotty. It's best results came both participants were asleep.

Annoying and idiosyncratic? Maybe. But it was a small price to pay for instant communication.

Madeline forced herself to lie back in the cushy chair, materialize some heavier blankets to weigh her down, and start plying her psionics to trick her body into slowing down.

It was tricky getting psionic constructs to override your body and brain's physical senses—Caleb still didn't understand how good his intuition was for nailing psionic tricks on the first try—but Madeline and the rest of the Puppies had learned a few tricks too.

Constructs to interfere and suppress her own senses weren't dependable long term because the body eventually adapted to the sensory interference. But that usually took a while. She had plenty of time to psionically mimic the effects of a sensory deprivation chamber.

The hum of the ship bled away. The sight of her bunk vanished. The only sensation she left for herself was that of gravity. Underneath her blankets, it felt like being buried. Cut off. Dead to the world.

<How about now?> she asked.

<A lot better,> Jordan said. <What's bothering you that you called me and not Caleb?>

<Family junk. He'd be all supportive, which is good. But I'm looking for advice, and I think I'm too much of a coward right now to ask him for some.>

<And by 'some' I'm going to assume you mean 'advice' and not…>

Madeline fought the unwelcome impulse to laugh. Most other times that would have been hilarious.

<I'm serious,> she said. <You and Drew are tight, but my siblings and I have never gotten along with each other. The only thing we really align on is how shitty our mom and dad are.>

<So what advice are you actually looking for? And why?>

<…'Why' is the only one I can answer right now. Caleb will probably hear from Serral directly, but we're going to Omag to poke around some ENVY-related problems. Robots and whatnot. The AIs call each other siblings and that's enough for my brain to get stuck thinking about my own family, past failures, and if I'm going to be able to handle this. Caleb isn't here. Nai isn't here. You aren't here….>

<You're the guy in the Flotilla right now,> Jordan followed. <You've trained like hell. You'll do fine.>

<Thank you, but that's exactly why I didn't want to talk to Caleb. Platitudes and encouragement are much appreciated,> Madeline said. <But you know the cliche where girls don't like when others try to give advice, they just want someone to be supportive and let them feel heard? This is not that time. Like I said, I want real advice.>

<About what exactly?> Jordan repeated.

<I don't know! I can't help but think about all my family drama when I'm hearing about the AIs' siblings, but then…they're computers, you know? How much of human family junk applies to them?>

<May I read into something?>

<Please do.>

<You seem like you're wanting advice on what advice to ask for, because you're feeling unprepared as you confront increasing responsibilities and stakes.>

<That's….exactly right. Like, wow. That's ninety-nine percent of my anxiety in one sentence.>

<Don't feel bad. I have a lot more experience verbalizing emotions than the average bear,> Jordan said.

Madeline vaguely knew Jordan had some kind of mild facial paralysis. It was a lot more obvious when her audible speech was compared with her psionic tone. Her words carried so much more animation when her thoughts and emotions were able to tinge the signals she transmitted. In person, you'd think she was a sociopath.

…Which made it so much stranger to Madeline that Jordan got along so well with Drew.

<Then what kind of advice should I be asking for?> she asked.

<You shouldn't just ask me,> Jordan said honestly. <You should ask the people counting on you, the people in charge. Serral. Ike maybe. Vez probably. Shinshay too, if you're going to check out robots. Right?>

<How do you do that?> Madeline peeved. <Those are the exact names that came up around this.>

<And shouldn't that be encouraging? My judgment is good, and you came up with the same people. Yours is too.>

<I didn't say I was the one to bring them up.>

<Quit moping,> Jordan flicked her mind.

<I'm honestly not trying to. I think my own brain is going in bad loops,> Maddie said.

<Autopilot. Yeah.>

<What?>

<Something Drew taught me.>

<She's younger than you,> Maddie frowned.

<And she still taught me plenty,> Jordan said. <It's really easy to do things out of first instinct or habit. That includes second guessing yourself. If you get stuck in self-deprecating loops, you're like a plane stuck on autopilot—it's actually a holding pattern, but that's the point. You fix it by paying attention to everything you do. It's exhausting, but it worked for me, to recognize when I wasn't expressing myself well. For me, my loop was I'd get more upset because no one seemed to care about how upset I already was. But it wasn't that no one cared, it was that no one noticed. But Drew did notice sooner or later and coached me out of it. You need to talk to people who know you better than I do about what autopilots you have turned on without realizing it.>

<…What's it like having a sister who loves you that much?>

<It's amazing. She's like a best friend I never had to introduce myself to one awkward day in the third grade.>

More guilt flashed through Madeline. Somehow it caught her by surprise.

She'd said the words out of a place of envy, wanting someone in her life the way Drew had been there for Jordan. But once they were spoken aloud, all Madeline could think about was how she hadn't been that for her own sisters or brothers.

<Seriously, talk more with Serral. He's put up with weirder human drama than yours. His insights will be, literally, out of this world. Especially talk to him if you're feeling unprepared for a mission. I wouldn't have adapted to the Jack nearly as quickly without his help.>

<I thought that was all Caleb,> Maddie frowned.

<Caleb brought the madness. Serral had the method,> Jordan said.

Madeline's twilight sensory deprivation state was interrupted when a psionic announcement blared across the Siegfried.

<This is Quartermaster Murgoi. Diagnostics on the gravity rig check out. So situate yourselves, because unless I get a good reason not to in the next minute, I'm throwing the lever.>

<Wait, you guys didn't get the gravity fixed yet?> Jordan chuckled.

<No, clearly we did—or will in a few seconds thanks to yours truly.>

<Good. Hey, one of these days, I want to talk about something that isn't our personal problems.>

<Hah. A lot of my conversations do go that way, don't they?>

<At the same time, I'm glad you reached out. Switch off your autopilot, yeah?>

<You bet.>

<…You know, I bet if you move before the gravity comes back, you could beat everyone to line on the showers.>

<Holyshityou'rerightgottagobye!>

<Bye,> Jordan smiled.

The rush of her returning senses was so disorienting, she smashed her face into the wrong wall trying to float out of her bunk. But it only took a couple seconds for her to pull herself down the ladder to the next deck and the closest showers.

Too few people had the same idea and Madeline had first dibs.

She went to sleep squeaky clean for the first time in a week.

Good thing too. Knowing what she even might be in for? She'd need all the rest she could get.

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