John
Eugene Station
Epsilon Eridini
Milky Way Galaxy
The feeling—or perhaps the lack thereof—was strange to John. He found himself grappling with an existential dilemma that weighed heavily on his mind: Was he now considered artificial, or did his soul truly reside within the station? Did that even mean he was alive? This line of questioning must be similar to what Betsy contemplated since he had created her. Yet, this was only a fraction of the myriad thoughts swirling in his consciousness. With the processing power of the station at his disposal, John’s mind was a cacophony of simultaneous ideas, each competing for attention as various projects unfolded concurrently. The station, a marvel of engineering, held numerous secrets and immense potential; it felt familiar, a relic of the Terran Empire, the ancestors of humanity. John realized that much of what defined humanity today had its roots in that ancient civilization. Earth’s languages, for example—Galactic Common was merely an evolved form of English. This connection explained why every Terran outpost they encountered, including the city trapped in time on Wolf 359, featured English as its predominant language.
“Why are you working against me?” John asked Memi, his voice echoing within the simulated environment he had meticulously crafted.
“I’m not sure you are ready,” Memi replied, maintaining a cautious distance. Despite being a simulated AI consciousness, she felt an innate fear of what John could potentially unleash.
“Ready for what? Let me in!” John pleaded, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know you see it too; you’ve accessed the same sensor logs over the hypernet that I have. But you know more than I do about them.”
“There’s nothing to be seen there. You’re chasing ghosts,” she countered, her tone firm.
“Entire fleets destroyed by a remote self-destruct signal, hyperbuoys going offline, a K-type star going supernova millions of years early? Let me into the database and help me stop whatever is causing this!” His frustration bubbled over, an urgency that felt palpable.
Memi vanished, refusing to engage further.
“We’re not you. The Sumerians have even said that themselves. We grew; Earth is not as war-hungry as we used to be. We are defenders of peace,” John implored, feeling the weight of his words. Every attempt he made to access the historical archives and databases was thwarted by both Eugene and Memi. “Why let me have direct control over the Legion then?"
Memi remained silent, nowhere to be found.
“Ah, that’s why. Because you can’t. The last bit of the code is within me, granting me control. You want it; that’s why you’re trying to trap my subsystem in a Faraday cage.”
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“You must understand,” Memi finally responded, her voice echoing with gravity. “We cannot let the mistakes of our past happen again!”
“That’s why we remember our past and don’t hide it. We teach the atrocities committed by our individual governments in schools. We do not allow our past to repeat itself. Over all these years, have we ever nuked ourselves on the planet? Have we ever let a genocidal maniac extinguish millions of lives like Adolf Hitler did? Yes, we’re not perfect. Yes, we have different views and opinions. World War III was brutal and dragged on far too long, but look at what we have accomplished!” His voice surged with conviction.
“Name one technology you have created that was not used directly for war,” Memi challenged him, her tone tinged with skepticism.
John smiled, sensing he had her cornered. She had inadvertently walked right into her own trap. “The one piece of technology that no species has ever managed to create in the history of the galaxy: The Anders Warp Drive.”
“You created a ship of war around that piece of technology,” she retorted, a hint of defiance in her voice.
“Sure, the WarpStar may be a warship, but she was not designed for war. She was created for exploration. Do you know how our ship identification and registry works?” Memi fell silent once again. “SDDE-01 is the WarpStar’s designation, which stands for Space Exploration Destroyer. Yes, she has teeth and may be the most powerful ship we’ve ever constructed, but she has never been used in a first-strike attack—only in defensive measures.”
“You sent her out now for a first-strike measure!” Memi reappeared in front of John, her brow furrowed.
“That’s where you are wrong. They’re going to rescue an enemy, bring her back, and hopefully broker peace among the galaxy. Even if I’m wrong and there is no looming threat, millions, trillions of lives will be saved if she can manage to sue for peace. Isn’t that worth fighting for? A galaxy free from war?” His words carried the weight of hope.
Memi nodded, seemingly in agreement. “She was psychotic the last information I have of her. What makes you think she will be any different?”
“She has a child. She’s the only member of her species who has reproduced in millions of years. She was psychotic because, to her, there was no future for her people; she had nothing to lose, so revenge consumed her. I truly believe that having a child changes a person. She now has an innocent life to protect—her own flesh and blood. I’m willing to bet you everything that she will return willingly to stop this bloodshed.”
“You have a lot of faith in someone who tortured you, violated you, and tried to kill you on numerous occasions, who committed genocide against your people and slaughtered billions. What are you going to do? Just let her be free to do whatever she wants?”
John hesitated. Memi had valid points, and there wasn’t a fiber in his being that didn’t yearn for revenge against Lithanul. But that wasn’t who he was; revenge wouldn’t accomplish the goal he sought—peace. “Yes, I do. She will face justice for her crimes, but not in any inhuman way. She will be tried and prosecuted. But she will be given a fair trial. I truly believe this child changed her. Why go into hiding? Why not incite her followers to create an even more destructive civil war?”
“I’ve studied your judicial system. It has let a lot of guilty parties go free and a lot of innocents charged with crimes they did not commit,” Memi countered, her voice steady.
“It’s not a perfect system, but it’s the best one out there; it’s the only one that gives a fair chance.” John hesitated, his focus pulled elsewhere. “The WarpStar has a good chance of ending this galaxy-wide conflict. Allow me to help them!”
“What do you have in mind?” Memi finally relented, granting John a measure of access to the station's systems and databases. There was still much he couldn’t reach, but he managed to uncover a plan that could change everything.
“This may help!”