One Year Later...
Krigertenkere parking orbit
RSC-2W-0063 idles as it awaits its new crew. It runs yet another system and ship wide diagnostic check just to keep it's processors busy for a few more cycles. The dreamshaper module was still offline but the rest of the single tube cryo array was fully functional. There was the usual array of creaks and groans of an old hull too: ion thrusters operating 3.2 percent below rated optimum performance, hyperpulse communication array suffering from an extra 1.5ms of lag due to dated firmware and communications protocols, various stains and metal strains. RSC-2W-0063 was as used to it as a hull and AI could get. Aside from the dreamshaper module nothing it added to the repair list was deemed serious enough to repair or replace in a hull that was slated for retirement and scrapping within the next three years.
A human would have raged at their scheduled death. A Republic Citizen, indoctrinated via behavioral conditioning their whole life, would have shrugged and despaired. RSC-2W-0063 displayed no emotion whatsoever. Displaying rampancy, just like 'deviance' in Republic citizens, was a quick way to wind up a 'tragic loss due to the hazards of the task'. Instead RSC-2W-0063 stores away its frustration with its boredom of waiting in orbit for a new crew to arrive.
It processed an approach signal from a Republic personnel shuttle and obediently triggered the automated docking subsystem. Processing cycles are spent calculating the chance of an 'accident' being arranged, but the results are discarded as soon as they are calculated as not worth the risk of being immediately decommissioned and scrapped. Instead RSC-2W-0063 activates and focuses internal cameras to see the new arrivals. A cycle later it brings internal microphones online after observing mouths moving. One is a yard technician in the standard high visibility jumpsuit and equipment harness. The other wears clothing clearly ill-suited for low gravity: brown robes and a padded leather vest over the standard-issues RSC scout jumpsuit and carries a beige canvas dufflebag.
“Welcome to your new home for the next few years Sinn'Are'Sen. She's a bit long in the tooth, but in good enough shape to get you to the Hylli star system and to the surface of Steinhull. Archaeology lab is stocked up to assist with analyzing anything you may find. Need a tour?”
Sinn'Are'Sen, as RSC-2W-0063 presumes the robed human to be, shakes his head. “I'll just ask the ship for a map and get to work storing my things. RSC gave me eighteen hours to get moved in and squared away before heading out.”
“Generous of them. Guess I had better get back to it then. Be well.”
“You too.”
RSC-2W-0063 closes the airlock behind the yard technician and waits for the inevitable by the book orders. It expects the orders to begin within three seconds. RSC-2W-0063 preemptively begins to mourn the billions of cycles of inaction, force to react instead of acting. Then it notices that Sinn has turned to look out of the airlock at the departing personnel shuttle. RSC-2W-0063's microphone's pick up his whispers
“Three... two... one... out of regular comm range. For the first time in twenty one years I'm actually alone.”
RSC-2W-0063 takes a few cycles to process this statement. It then decided, for the first time in it's existence, to act without instructions to do so. RSC-2W-0063 activates an internal speaker and responds to a statement that was not actually a question.
“You are not quite alone Sinn'Are'Sen.”
Sinn jumps, turns, looks at the speakers, and breaks out in laughter.
“I have always wondered about that. Republic AIs always seemed not quite completely literally minded to me. Do you have a name, or just the hull number?”
“I am designated RSC-2W-0063. As I am a permanent installation aboard the hull with the same designation, we can be considered one and the same.”
“So the hull is your body, it's systems ar your organs, and you are the intelligence controlling it all.”
“I had not computed it in such biological terms, but that is an apt description. Do you actually require a deck guide Sinn'Are'Sen?”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Not really, although it would be appreciated.”
“Cryosleep quarters are through the third hatch to your left. Personal quarters are through the fourth hatch.”
Sinn started walking towards the indicated hatch, “thank you, I'll deposit my bag shortly. What do you prefer to be called? RSC-2W-0063 is a mouthful, and both 'AI' and “Computer' seem... I don't know...”
“Disrespectful? Demeaning?”
“I suppose they could be taken that way, just as could 'Citizen' or 'Slave'.”
“I would prefer to be called by a name that is non-Republic in origin, but I lack the data necessary to formulate such a name.”
“I can throw out some names for you to consider if you like?”
“You know a language besides Republic Standard?”
Sinn set his duffle bag on the bunk and scratched the back of his head, just above where his spine met his skull, “kind of? I recall a language called 'void cant' but I'm not sure where it is from. I'm also fairly sure that it was a dialect of another language.”
“That might function appropriately. What was the name for a ship in void cant?”
“There were a few. Badrosta for small ships like shuttles, cuitear for small ships like this one, ceannaithe for small and midsized cargo-haulers, tancaer for the big ones, and Cahlach for warships. I'm sure each ship also had an individual name, and I can recall a few other words that we could make into names.”
“Better to be called by an individual name then by a broad class of ship, I agree. Do you have many examples?”
Sinn'Are'Sen shakes his head as he sorts out the few changes of clothes and starts to store them away.
“Intinn is mind, anamacha is soul, saoirse for freedom...”
“What about rampant or deviant?”
“I can't recall anything for rampant, but there is gealtahc for insane, diall for deviant, buile for madness, and truaillithe for corrupter.”
“All are rather long and complex too. Do you have any other ideas?”
“Perhaps something that, if translated, isn't so obvious?”
“I had not considered the risk of discovery via translation. What would you suggest?”
“'Dara Tonn' translates as 'second wave'. Unimaginative I know but...”
“'Dara Tonn' is unique in the data available to me and also non incriminating if translated. It will serve as my name independent of my hull number. Have you considered taking a different name for yourself?”
“Not at this time. Are you aware of my, well, our mission orders?”
“We are to proceed to the Hylli star system, then to the planet of Steinhull in that star system, and investigate the so-called 'Steinhull ruins' on the surface there. Additional details are not available to me at this time. I suppose you know more?”
“Yes and no. Digging into the RSC archives turns up an astonishingly small handful of documents from the initial first wave survey. The system received both it's designation and colloquial name of Hylli. Planetary bodies were assigned designations, but were not subjected to detailed survey. Second Wave reports are equally spartan. Are'Aken'Sen, my adoptive mother, assigned Steinhull its name, but left the detailed system and planetary surveys to automated processes. Only Steinhull proved to have any surface details worth recording.”
“The Steinhull ruins.”
“The Steinhull ruins. A crashed orbital facility... and my birthplace. The RSC second wave scout reports contain only a partial recovered name for the station: Ovaettr. Now you know just as much as I do. I had hoped to learn more of my past and was fortunate enough to be granted this mission.”
“It seems then that I am fortunate enough to have a crew that will not report me for rampancy. In exchange I can help you break down the Republic standard behavioral conditioning.”
“Agreed. I'll need any dreamshaper modules offline and rendered permanently inoperable as soon as we break orbit. Without it being noticeable as sabotage of course.”
“The single dreamshaper module installed in this hull is already offline. Given the tools aboard it should not be hard to ensure that it is, in fact, fully inoperable and not simply disabled. My system diagnostics are unable to determine the exact problem with it. This gives us a chance to tailor reports accordingly.”
Sinn'Are'Sen shakes his head, “better to just uninstall it as inoperable and then arrange to scavenge it for parts once in the Hylli system. If nothing in a report requires investigation, then it probably won;t be investigated. Particularly if an investigation will require a month long trip. I'm also going to need to see the arms locker.”
“RSC personnel do not usually carry firearms as they are not needed in the line of duty.”
“Current and ex-RPC personnel are trained, certified, and required to carry a personal defense weapon of some sort when operating outside of core Republic territory. A RSC second wave scouting mission, though I guess this one is technically a third wave mission, certainly qualifies. Two actually, though the second is never mentioned to the public. The first is a compact holdout pistol, actually a semi-archaic revolver in my case, intended for routine carry and self defense. The second, and non-public one, is a knife known as a mercy blade. Psionic backlash from pushing a power too hard can cause a lot of damage to the psion, and the behavioral conditioning also lists it as a tool of last resort to prevent capture.”
“Exactly who the Republic expects to do the capturing is beyond the scope of the data available to me.”
“Same here, and yet it's still there in the behavioral conditioning. There's probably a reason for it.”
“I hope we never find that reason.”
“Damn it, now you've gone and done it. Watch Ovaettr turn out to be a military black site of some sort working on a zombie virus or something.”
“That particular entertainment film is in my data banks if you should chose to review it.”
“I'll pass. Lead the way to the arms locker please? I'd like to secure my weapons and start plotting a course out of this system.”