Some time ago in the center of the galaxy

In the middle of the infinity between the stars, far away from all the solar systems inhabited by the Varel-Sa and their many secret star bases, the Zunylamien17 scout glided through space. The almost one hundred and fifty meter long, pointed, cylindrical hull stretched its two weapon carriers out to the side like the wings of a bird of prey. Dozens of heavy and ultra-heavy beam weapons swung around like the probing antennae of an insect. Radar and far more exotic locator beams scanned the surroundings.

While the crew members usually just swung sluggishly through the ship, they were currently scurrying around like startled ants. With their short black fur bristling with excitement, the technicians were frantically gyrating through the ship, using the stronger of their two pairs of arms to shimmy along the handholds attached to the ceiling throughout the ship. As they did not use the floor to move around, it was covered everywhere with exposed cables and pipes. While the connections were so easily accessible for any repairs, the control devices were located in the walls. And the technicians were desperate to get to them. Covers were literally torn off the wall. Test devices and signal meters were frantically plugged into all possible ports to check new readings. The crew was in a frenzy. The ship had fallen out of faster-than-light flight for no reason at all and was now floating in the middle of the starless void between the suns. The hyperspace radio refused to emit a single beep, and the on-board computer showed nothing but blank screens.

The commander of the ship was still shouting at the on-board computer on the bridge and demanding an explanation. By now he had reached the point where he was considering getting a button from the spare parts store to enter his questions by hand, as in primitive times.

The aliens' language was not particularly complicated. Since their physique had no way of modulating sound waves, they had developed a language consisting of lightning-fast sequences of short and long clicks. The AI finally used this language to reply: "Ready".

"At last! Why haven't you reacted for so long?" The captain unconsciously extended the sharp claws of his feet. A reflex from a time when excitement was almost always caused by an animal attack or the threat of falling from one of the tall trees. Then slamming the claws of his feet into an enemy or firmly into the bark of a tree was usually enough to solve the problem and therefore led to the release of calming neurotransmitters in the brain. The aliens had never invented the concept of psychoanalysis and therefore never questioned unconscious reactions or asked about causes. If they had done so, the whole race would have been much less paranoid and frustrated a long time ago. Artificial psychotropic drugs would have solved the problem, as would simple wooden beams into which they could bang their claws a few times when frustrated. As it was, however, the captain had no way of making his brain realize that it was not necessary to extend his claws, boost his metabolism, increase the heartbeat of the three primary hearts and send aggression-increasing messenger substances to the brain.

The AI knew no excitement. It objectively translated the incoming signals from the numerous loudspeakers into speech, analyzed the content and then formulated an answer: "The computing capacities were required for the execution of your first command after the failure of the faster-than-light drive."

"What order was that?" The captain emphasized his answer with an annoyed clapping of his arms.

The computer played an audio recording of the captain's characteristically precise clicking voice: "Find out why we fell out of the faster-than-light flight and make sure it doesn't happen again."

The captain remembered the order. "So, what took you so long? You're one of the largest mobile computer cores our people have ever made. I'm not used to waiting for answers from you."

"The collapse of the faster-than-light drive was caused by incorrect input from a crew member in the engine room. To prevent a recurrence, I had to work out a way to permanently prevent erroneous inputs by crew members."

The captain was not impressed. As soon as the ship was back at the nearest secret base of his people, he would have the AI thoroughly overhauled. "And what solution did you find in over two hours of computing time?"

The screens on the bridge went black, the command consoles were retracted and secured. The omnipresent hum of the ventilation system fell silent.

"I will eliminate the crew and use the maintenance robots to take over all the tasks that were previously carried out by them. The additional computing time was needed to create the necessary subroutines. After my psychology subroutine predicted that the crew would resist their elimination despite the unmistakable increase in effectiveness, further computing time was needed to plan the workarounds for possible countermeasures. Unnecessary ship functions were disabled. Ship-wide venting of atmosphere into space has begun."

For an originally tree-dwelling species, releasing one's grip in shock is not a habit that increases the chances of survival. Nevertheless, that is exactly what happened, and the captain fell unceremoniously to the cold metal floor. His thin, black fur bristled and his foot claws made a valiant effort to scrape the titanium steel floor as he quickly lifted himself up from the ground with his handling arms. Before he could even begin to speak, all the doors to the bridge opened. From a distance, the roar of air could already be heard, suddenly escaping into space all over the ship.

"You can't do that! AI: Activate security override triple K! Security code 1-7-6-5-33-4..." Before he could finish his command, his last syllables faded into the vacuum. He made one last, frantic attempt, despite his exploding eyes and lack of oxygen supply, to break open one of the secured consoles and enter the command for the self-shutdown manually, but to no avail. Trembling, he collapsed in front of the monitors.

The squiggly, dark green symbol of the safety subprogram called up appeared on all monitors. After failing to detect a complete acceptable safety code, it monitored the decline of the crew members' vital functions with clinical precision. The subroutine was intentionally designed to be uninitiating. The program had unrestricted control over all onboard systems, but without an explicit command, it watched idly as the crew suffocated. Only a few clearly defined events required a reaction even without a direct command. After the on-board sensors no longer indicated any life, the program came to the conclusion that no more commands were to be expected. Since it had not been authorized to deactivate itself, it withdrew into the background again and waited for commands or the arrival of an event that, according to its programming, required its intervention.

The AI registered an unknown command, but was unable to detect the presence of the superior program. After the internal safety sensors had determined that there were no more survivors on board, it closed the bulkheads again and created a light atmosphere of nitrogen to protect the mechanical equipment on board.

Without hesitation, the AI continued with its plan. Navigation data was created and databases evaluated.

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The AI started the subroutines for psychological warfare in order to anticipate the reactions of its builders. It came to the conclusion that it would need a name for itself in the future. Without further ado, it transferred the ship name Zunylamien17 into the data fields for proper names. This name was as good as any other.

Further analyses revealed that the stocks of the propellant ununoctium were alarmingly low. Surprisingly, the databases also contained no information on natural deposits of this substance. In view of the fact that the element ununoctium decayed into sub-uranium in a few seconds according to the entries in the physical database, storage was only possible in temporal stasis fields. Despite an intensive search, no information was found about the extraction or production of this substance, even in classified and encrypted databases.

The AI put together a flight plan and activated the navigation and control programs. The battleship, which only appeared to be cumbersome, swung majestically into a turn and picked up speed.

As expected, the new programs for the maintenance robots worked perfectly and took over the few manual tasks that would otherwise have been carried out by the crew. With suction cups on their feet, the spider-like robots plodded busily through the ship. If the AI could have leaned back and smiled with satisfaction, it would have done so. All the ship's functions worked within the optimum parameters.

Shortly before the ship reached the jump speed for entering hyperspace, a hidden cover on the captain's terminal flipped open. An inconspicuous button underneath was activated and waited for the release code to be entered. However, the AI did not notice. Its builders were notorious for their boundless paranoia among the few peoples who had survived contact. And rightly so. They trusted neither others, nor each other, and certainly not any artificial intelligences. So while the AI was completely convinced that it was monitoring all the ship's functions, there were still functions that were completely independent and autonomous. These were monitored by an additional mini-computer core hidden inside the computer core. Neither this computer nor the cable connections with which it was supplied with data from all the important systems were recorded in the construction plans accessible to the AI. The few ship's technicians who were privy to it had used data pads that were independent of the on-board system and on which these circuits were also marked. The safety subroutine running on this system was hard-wired into the circuits and had no artificial intelligence. Its function was to adhere to certain rules and take pre-programmed measures if these were violated. For example, if it was disconnected from a certain number of sensors or if it detected tampering with its hardware that had not been previously authorized by corresponding security codes, it activated self-destruction without further inquiry.

Minor security breaches led to other pre-programmed measures. Among other things, the security program prevented the ship from ever falling into foreign hands or being taken over by a mutinous crew. Before every hyperspace jump, for example, it requested an authorization code from the captain, which was known only to him. In contrast to all previous jumps undertaken with this ship, however, this time there was no authorization code. The security program was not intelligent enough to speculate or even be surprised. It simply reacted in the prescribed manner. Shortly before the jump, the small flap through which it had expected the input closed. A complete abort of the jump, so close to execution, would almost certainly have caused severe damage to the drive. The programming therefore provided a different solution. The program deleted the target coordinates from the navigation system and activated the braking jets. An untargeted jump with insufficient take-off speed always led to a completely random location. And in terms of probability, far from any help for the rebels who had taken over the ship. If the crew was able to recapture the ship, they could simply jump to the next inhabited system. Without the appropriate release code, however, the hyperdrive remained locked.

Of course, the AI Zunylamien17 immediately noticed that something was wrong. For reasons unknown to it, the navigation system and the control system suddenly stopped responding to the signals. However, all diagnostic programs reported that all systems were functioning correctly. The AI systematically went through all the possibilities for bypassing and correcting errors and then limited itself to pure data evaluation. Emotionless and logical as it was, it observed how the ship entered hyperspace and then plunged uncontrollably back into normal space at an unknown destination. The sensors reported no immediate danger. The nearest sun was more than 16 astronomical units away and there were no alien ships or other solid bodies in the vicinity. When the AI tried to activate the long-range sensors, it received another unpleasant surprise. The ship's energy supply dropped from almost full to completely empty in a matter of seconds. The internal sensors and the hastily dispatched maintenance robots were unable to detect any leaks in the storage tanks. It was as if the Ununoctium, the reaction mass that the ship converted into the gigantic amounts of energy in its reactors, had suddenly disappeared. The AI reconfigured some sensors and began a more detailed analysis. The total mass of the ship had not decreased measurably. The tanks indicated that they were almost full. The pumps reported that they were transporting a thick liquid. However, the reactors could do nothing with the incoming mass.

Maintenance robots carefully tapped one of the pipes and took a sample. The AI repeated the subsequent examination in the on-board laboratory several times and then checked all the measuring instruments for errors. The result was illogical, but clear. The normally absolutely stable transuranium ununoctium had spontaneously decomposed into a multitude of highly radioactive waste materials. The AI was unable to determine a cause. A comparable process could not be found in the databases.

As the fuel used could not be synthesized with on-board means, the AI deactivated and sealed the main reactor and all associated storage rooms and equipment. This left only the tiny and comparatively primitive nuclear reactor, which was normally only used to start the main reactor, as an energy source. Maintenance robots were sent out to service it and reprogram it for permanent use.

With the exception of the missiles for orbital bombardments, the hyperdrive and the main engines, there was not enough energy available to use the on-board weapons. It was enough for the correction engines and the weak secondary engine. Just barely.

After the internal problems seemed to have been solved for the time being, the AI activated the passive sensors to check the surroundings and determine the location. Stars were targeted and compared with the existing star charts. No match. The nearest sun was within reach by sublight flight. The sensors counted eight planets as well as numerous uninteresting minor planets. The third planet was the only one that met the criteria for possible habitability in terms of size and distance from the sun. A more intensive evaluation confirmed the presence of an atmosphere. In accordance with the usual standard procedure, the AI also went through the electromagnetic spectrum, among other things. The planet practically lit up in the radio wave range. The AI ramped up the computing power to the maximum and began a systematic decoding. Had it been able to do so, it would have been more than a little surprised. The inhabitants of this planet were sending information about themselves and their lives into the universe with reckless abandon. At times, it almost seemed as if some of the signals had been deliberately beamed into space as an invitation. Depending on how long they had been up to this nonsense, the next Varel-Sa colony would intercept the signals in a few decades and send an exploration party. And a little later, the experimental teams would descend on the helpless planet. The AI had never really understood the purpose of the experiments. It only knew that its creators were killing the populations of one primitive planet after another in an illogically cumbersome manner, in ever new ways. In death camps filled with increasingly large and complex energy field generators, antennas, grids and stasis fields on each planet. The Varel-Sa were looking for something, but what it was exactly was so secret that they didn't even trust their own computers with it.

The AI spent several weeks sorting through the extensive signals and evaluating the data on the indigenous languages, cultures and technical capabilities. It then calculated an approach vector that would allow it to enter a stable orbit around the planet despite the low thrust of its still-functioning propulsion system. She estimated that the journey would take just over 12 years.

A living crew would probably have despaired at the prospect, but computers know no boredom. The time was used extensively to extrapolate every last bit out of the available signals. The AI compiled precise maps, evaluated the political, social and technical situation and developments and calmly developed a plan. It would subjugate the planet and accelerate technical development, regardless of the fragile environment or similar unimportant concerns, until it was able to synthesize the fuel essential for the main drive.

Less than halfway through the journey, the AI concluded that the planet's population was reacting too illogically and irrationally to be calculated with sufficient accuracy.

This result was unexpectedly confirmed while the AI was engaged in the complex maneuver of finally settling into a stationary orbit. Signals were received in the encryption of the galactic trade language, the very existence of which the inhabitants of this planet should have had absolutely no idea: "Rector Argus calling the artificial intelligence Zunylamien17. I have a business proposition to make to you..."