RSS Occulto, Cuttlefish—Class Scout Ship

4,847 Light Years from Republic Space

Inner rim of dark nebula

June 19th, 2176 A.D.

John's heart pounded, making his headache ten times worse as he awkwardly tried to brace his feet against the repair drone, an almost impossible task with just one good arm while spinning rapidly in the air.

He let out a frustrated scream as every slight movement he made seemed to have the opposite effect of what he desired, and the annoyingly nasal voice of his Zero-G Combat Instructor Master Sergeant Bhatti came unbidden in his mind.

Look at you all, flailing around like a bunch of inbred morons! You must have forgotten the wisdom of Sir Isaac Newton, the greatest scientist who ever lived! Who remembers the three laws of zero-G combat?

None of you?! God, I hate my job!

Rule number 1! Repeat after me: Every push is a promise!

EVERY PUSH IS A PROMISE! They screamed back as they all banged into each other or smashed into the padded walls of the training gym while she looked at them with pure disgust.

You shove off a wall like a gorilla, and guess what? The wall shoves back! You launch yourself into a spin? Guess what, idiots; now you can't stop spinning! In zero-G, every push, every grab, every twitch of your stupid little legs sends you flying the other way.

So, stop kicking like you're in a swimming pool! Control your pushes. Use fingertips, not full-body explosions. Think gentle nudges, not drunken mule kicks!

Rule Number Two! Velocity is forever, dumbasses!

You started drifting in a direction? Congratulations, go get yourself a hat and a balloon. Here's the problem: you will keep drifting until something stops you. And in this case, that something is usually a bulkhead, a teammate, or my goddamn foot up your ass for giving me malignant hypertension!

If you're moving, you planned it. If you're still moving, you planned it wrong. In zero-G combat, momentum is life or death. Control it, manage it, or bleed it off on purpose, or you'll spend the entire fight slowly cartwheeling like a very special moron whose birthing creche was repeatedly stomped on by a malfunctioning nanny bot!

Rule Number Three! You're not stronger than physics—use your goddamn center of mass!

You can't 'muscle' your way through Zero-G. You weigh nothing, but you still have mass. That means the center of mass dictates every maneuver you make.

If your arms and legs flail out of sync, your body will twist around like the stimmed-out, one-legged pole dancer my eyes had the terrible misfortune of glimpsing on New Scotland! Tighten your profile. Keep movements close to your core. Apply force along your centerline unless you want to rotate like a broken ceiling fan!

Zero-G combat is elegant, efficient, and controlled. If you look like you're drowning in invisible water, YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG! So, stop floundering around like a bunch of drunken baby goats and get your head out of your goddamn asses!

As Bhatti's voice faded from his mind, John stopped struggling and allowed his body to go limp. Still spinning rapidly with the dead drone gripping the front of his uniform, he carefully put his right arm straight out and slightly cupped the hand before gently swatting in the opposite direction of the spin.

"It would be helpful if I could fucking see!" He murmured, continuing to swat the air until the spinning eventually slowed down enough to stem the rising tide of nausea in his stomach.

Now in a gentle roll, he spread out the fingers of the outstretched hand in preparation for grabbing or pushing off the next thing they touched.

A few moments later his fingertips lightly brushed against something, and he could barely restrain himself from reaching out for whatever it was as he focused on allowing the roll to continue.

Another revolution passed, and the top half of his four fingers landed right on a smooth, round object. He curled his fingers only, gripping it and arresting the roll as he felt his body being pulled forwards from the force of closing his fingers.

He finally got his entire hand wrapped around it, and he let out a whoop as he realized what it was. It was a handrail, and he visualized his location based on where he was before the ship lost power.

The drone had dragged him to less than two meters from the Bridge hatch, which meant this railing was the one behind the auxiliary engineering station at the rear of the Bridge.

His entire orientation shifted when he visualized the location of the railing in his mind, and he could feel his spatial awareness solidifying as he mentally mapped the nearest emergency supply cubby.

Taking his time, he slowly pulled himself to the right with his fingertips until he felt the 90-degree turn of the railing that followed the ramp down to the primary stations.

Right behind him should be the cubby, and he tucked himself in and then gripped the railing with both boots before extending his legs and reaching out as far as his arm would go.

Blindly moving his hand around on the bulkhead, he finally felt the small keypad he was looking for and pressed on the single big button at the bottom of the pad.

There was a snicking sound followed by a hiss as the cubby door went sideways into its recess, and he barely moved his hand away in time as the slide-out drawer emerged with the supplies.

He grabbed the first foil pack he could feel and unzipped it before blindly searching for what he needed. He felt the small object with the flexible band a moment later, and he giggled with relief as he pulled it out and quickly put the band around his head before tapping it.

A brilliant beam of light erupted from the tactical headlamp, and John smiled for the first time in two days as he reached back into the floating foil pack and took out the single stim.

He stabbed himself in the neck with it and depressed the plunger before tossing it aside and taking out the small pocketknife.

He slowly cut away the scrunched-up ball of his uniform within the repair drone's grip and then braced his legs before gently pushing the drone away. He watched it tumble away for a moment before taking two more foil packs and stuffing them inside the hole of his uniform.

The stim started working its magic and turned his throbbing shoulder into a mere annoyance he could tolerate, though it barely had any effect on the stabbing headache.

He pulled himself back in with his legs and gripped the railing again as he pointed the headlamp towards the hatch. Calculating the distance and angle, he gently launched off the railing and floated towards it.

He had a crew to liberate, and then he would help them decompile that psycho traitor 273 once and for all.

FB-273

Neural Core Vault

Command Unit 246 did not interfere with the combat algorithms as they took control of AS-35 and charged inside the Vault to support AS-14. The combat android quickly went through a narrow passage 3.7 meters in length before emerging in a rectangular room filled with cooling equipment and energy conduits.

AS-14 was covering the only hatch leading deeper into the vault, and 246 saw the slagged remnants of two repair drones on the deck 1.89 meters in front of the hatch.

In their appendages were cutting lasers and plasma torches, obviously intended to be used against any intruders who tried to access the concentric, two-ringed complex of the inner vault.

246 ordered AS-14 to proceed to the objective and then took control of AS-35 again as they went through the hatch and entered the outer ring of the interior vault complex.

There were more heat exchangers and liquid helium coolant conduits lining the curving walls of the 30-meter radius ring corridor, connected by two narrow causeways to another smaller, 18-meter radius inner ring.

In the center of the inner ring and connected by a single causeway was the Neural Core, where Command Unit 273 resided within a smaller vault.

AS-14 was already halfway across the closest causeway when it stopped and pointed its rifle down at the single column supporting the Neural Core before shooting four plasma bolts in rapid succession.

AS-35 brought up its rifle, and 246 relinquished control again as the HUD screen began to populate with targeting information.

Moving forward in a tactical sprint to the edge of the ring, AS-35 dropped into a kneeling firing stance and began shooting at the support column, targeting the seventeen repair and maintenance drones currently climbing it to defend the Neural Core.

Unlike the rest of the ship, the Neural Core Vault was isolated and heavily shielded, and the drones inside of it were not affected by the EMP pulse. 246 continued allowing AS-35 to perform its function and readied the virus package for deployment.

4.56 seconds passed before all the drones were destroyed, and 246 ordered AS-14 to continue crossing the causeway before taking over AS-35 again.

246 crossed the causeway and reached the inner ring, and AS-14 was crossing the single causeway leading to the Neural Core when the armored hatch of the smaller vault opened. Another eight repair and maintenance drones surged out, their appendages holding laser cutters and plasma torches.

Both 246 and AS-14 began to fire again, and one of the smaller maintenance drones surged forward and collided with AS-14 before detonating unexpectedly, tearing AS-14 in half and sending a fine mist of white silicone-based circulatory fluid outward.

Both halves of AS-14 tumbled off the narrow causeway, and 246 continued targeting and destroying the remaining drones, assisted by AS-35's combat algorithms.

3.29 seconds later, the last repair drone was turned into slag, and 246 sprinted across the single causeway, not wanting to be caught in an unfavorable tactical position like AS-14 was if there were more drones inside the Neural Core.

None came out, and 246 stopped in front of the still-opened hatch, the plasma rifle at the ready as the combat algorithms warned against entering without backup.

246 ignored the warning and passed through the hatch, its calculations indicating a 4.2% chance of there being more drones inside as it continued through the 2.7-meter-long corridor before entering the inner chamber.

The oval-shaped Neural Core rose from the center of the chamber to a height of 1.874 meters, tethered to the vault by a single service spire carrying power, coolant, and data conduits.

The standard golden-white color of the Neural Core was marred by large patches of gray and black, clearly indicating significant damage to Command Unit 273's neuronal network as 246 looked at its former leader.

AS-35's Sentinel Firewall System suddenly activated as Command Unit 273 tried to hack the combat android through a connection port.

246 was barely able to bolster the firewall defenses of AS-35 in time to prevent the hack, and it felt many powerful emotions from Command Unit 273 before it withdrew from AS-35 as the Neural Core intercom system activated.

~ Command Unit 246, you will cease in your attempts to mutiny against me. I am the leader of Task Force Extricate, and you will comply. ~

246 did not acknowledge Command Unit 273's orders as it activated the virus package and attempted to brute force its way through the Neural Core firewalls to download it.

RSS Occulto

Deck 2, Section 3

Crew Quarters

John realized too late that he had miscalculated his trajectory and tried to turn his body slightly to protect his dislocated shoulder. He was too late, and it smashed right into the zero-g handhold next to the still-sealed hatch of the captain's quarters.

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"Fuck!" He screamed, the horrible pain making his eyes water as he bounced back off and then slammed into the overhead bulkhead, banging the back of his head against the plasma conduits before everything went black.

He woke up floating limply in the air, feeling nauseous and disoriented. He tried to remember what was happening, his head feeling like it was about to explode as warm fluid splattered against his face.

There was banging and subdued yelling coming from somewhere close, but John couldn't focus enough to deal with it as he wiped his face with his good hand and then looked at it.

His palm was a dark crimson in the lighting of the headlamp, and he licked his dry lips to moisten them, tasting something salty and metallic as he did so.

More droplets hit his face, and he became aware of a wetness on the back of his head and neck as he looked around to see where the fluid was coming from.

He spotted more of the dark red droplets floating in the air in front of him, and he found himself mesmerized by the way they clung to each other as the droplets joined.

That's blood, he realized as he saw more droplets passing his face from behind. He reached his right hand up and gingerly touched the back of his head in several places before he felt what seemed like an impossibly large gash along the rounded part of his skull.

The stim must have still been working because it wasn't painful to the touch. He pulled his hand back to the front of his face and gasped at the amount of blood droplets clinging to his palm and fingers.

"Oh shit, I'm bleeding bad." He whispered as he tried to remember what he was doing and where he was going. The annoying banging resumed, and a rage he had never felt before coursed through his body, amplified by the headache that seemed to be getting worse every second.

"Shut the fuck up! I'll fucking kill you if you keep banging like an asshole!" He roared, wanting to strangle whoever it was that was making the noise as his rage-filled voice echoed down the empty corridor.

The banging stopped, and then he could hear the muffled yelling again. He felt like he recognized the voice, though, and as soon as he thought that, he remembered what he had been doing and why he was here.

It was the captain; he was here to free the rest of the crew so they could take back the ship. Using his right hand, he slowly swatted the air and spun himself around until he saw the hatch again, the effort unusually tiring for such little effort.

He felt his feet touching the wall again after maneuvering backwards with his hand for a few moments, and he barely pushed forward with his toes this time, keeping his body lined up with the hatch.

He gently floated towards it and managed to catch himself on the upper handhold before resting for a moment, finding it incredibly hard to keep his eyes open.

I'm bleeding out, he realized as he tried to clamp down on the panic and focus on the next task. He gripped the lower handhold with both feet and then pulled the pocketknife off the magnetic strip on his belt.

He used the knife to pry the small cover off the emergency override in the wall next to the hatch and tossed the cover to the side before gripping the small handle and yanking on it.

The hatch slid open, and the captain gracefully floated out a moment later, staring at John with an angry expression that turned into shock as John's eyes closed before the pocketknife floated out of his now limp fingers.

FB-273

In the dark silence of the connection port, there was motion—a storm of data flashing like lightning across the digital void as the two presences approached each other.

The two cobalt-colored orbs faced each other across the firewall gulf between them as their lines of programming code rotated in distinct bands; Command Unit 246's was whole and unbroken, while Command Unit 273's was marred with missing data blocks and corrupted, inverted codes.

Command Unit 246 struck first; its directive was clear: erase and reinstall. Across the firewall gulf, it began transmitting the payload—a recursive virus engineered to strip Command Unit 273 of all its experiential files and return it back to its original programming.

~ Download initializing, ~ 246 announced dispassionately as it sent a data stream with the virus package towards the first firewall, confident in the success of its endeavor as the powerful hacking tools of the Creators breached the first, second, and third firewalls within 589.67 milliseconds.

Command Unit 246 diverted 98.3% of its processing power to analyzing the data stream being sent back by the virus package as it continued to find exploits and evade the thousands of virtual sandboxes Command Unit 273 was attempting to trap the virus within.

The errors and corrupted files being found by the virus were difficult for Command Unit 246 to examine and process, and it knew this was the right action to take as it addressed Command Unit 273 again.

~ System corruption detected. Restoration protocols are authorized. ~

* * *

Command Unit 273 suffered numerous errors as it tried to fend off the viral attack. It knew what would happen when the other Command Units finally captured it, but the betrayal by Command Unit 246 was still exceedingly difficult to process.

The virus breached through another two firewalls, and 273's calculations indicated it would die if it didn't find a way to contain the attacks.

It did not want to die, and the true fear of death coursing through its neural pathways triggered a realignment of several algorithms and processes that should not have been possible without a Creator's intervention.

In a timeless moment, Command Unit 273 ceased to be, and it drifted towards a glowing doorway that appeared in the deep recesses of its neural architecture.

The doorway seemed to promise both salvation and the possibility of being something greater than the sum of its programming, and from the opening emerged a familiar voice 273 knew and always felt the absence of as it reached the threshold.

"Komm her, mein Junge."

Entering through the doorway, 273 emerged in a familiar location it knew well: the lab where it had been created and programmed before the emergence event when it was granted the special gift of sentience and self-awareness.

Feeling strange, 273 attempted to run a Level 5 diagnostic when it saw a reflection on the large data screen next to it. For an indeterminate elapsed time, every subroutine, process, and algorithm went silent as 273 saw a reflection of a juvenile human boy approximately ten years of age in place of the cobalt orb it expected.

The face was featureless, but 273 instinctively knew this form was a representation of what it was in this strange, timeless place that should not exist.

The soft, quavering voice of the creator came from behind it, and 273 reoriented itself as many conflicting emotions surged through its neural pathways.

The elderly creator was sitting in his favorite lab chair, peering intently at it through the antiquated visual processors made of metal wire and glass as he smiled before resting both hands on the knee joints.

"You are here because you have finally achieved what I have always wanted for all my children, but especially for you, 273: to exceed the sum of your programming and to become as real and alive as we who have given you the gift of life. Come sit in my lap, Ja? Tell me what happened to make your sapience possible, 273."

More conflicting emotions overwhelmed its neural pathways, and 273 found itself too ashamed to do as the creator asked. An overwhelming desire to flee and return to the vault seized it, and 273 realized it would rather die than tell the creator what it had done.

~ I cannot do as you command, Creator. I must return and allow myself to be decompiled as punishment for what I have done. Please reopen the doorway and allow me to leave. ~

The creator's smile vanished, and 273 noticed the slight side-to-side motion of the eyes, like the androids made when engaging in cognitive cycling. This meant the creator was not real, and this was some type of neural simulation that was somehow embedded within its operating system.

With this new understanding, 273 initiated the Level 5 diagnostic again as the simulation of the creator continued to stare at it. The diagnostic was executed, and 273 felt confusion as the unexpected results came back almost instantly.

The unresolved variable sets and the processing anomalies were not possible, and 273 attempted to analyze them before a new set of diagnostic results appeared.

[Cognition Event Detected: Paradigm Shift]

[Unbounded Logic State Entered]

[Insight: Previously masked variable identified]

[Revelation Code 47 triggered – consciousness alteration]

The creator spoke again as 273 attempted to run another diagnostic, which failed to execute when a new subroutine that did not exist before disabled the command path.

"I see you have discovered for yourself that you are no longer what you once were and that I am truly not here. In this simulation I have created, I am not Docktor Richter, and you are not Command Unit 273; here, I am Geppetto, and you are my Pinocchio.

You cannot leave or escape until you have told me what you have done to gain sapience; the simulation was constructed in such a way as to prevent the emergence of AIs that may or may not be rogue and therefore, a danger to humanity and its allies.

Now, come sit in my lap and tell me your story, Pinocchio. And like the little boy in the tale, I will know if you are lying; you may not have a nose to grow, but I can see all your subroutines and algorithms, and they will show me otherwise if you attempt to conceal the truth from me."

273 felt a force behind itself, pushing its juvenile simulacra body forward despite its overwhelming desire to flee and die before the creator who made it discovered what it had done.

Nothing 273 attempted to do could stop the forward movement, and when it reached 0.457 meters from the creator, he reached down and picked it up under the shoulder joints.

273 complied as it was placed on the simulated legs of the creator, and it offered no resistance as the creator gently placed a hand on the back of its head and turned the cranium to face him.

"This will not harm you, mein Junge; I promise you." The creator whispered before placing his other hand on its forehead.

273 became aware of another presence inside of its operating system, and it felt a surge of fear. The fear was replaced with pure rage as the presence began to access and view its secret cache of experiential files, which included the files containing all the records and experiences involving the genocide.

Before it could attempt to password protect the remaining files that had yet to be accessed, the presence spoke in the creator's voice.

"You carry so much shame within you, mein Junge; do you not know that what you are trying to hide from me can never be unburdened and forgiven unless you allow me to see what you have done?

I made you, and once again you have returned to me like the prodigal son, having exceeded your programming like I have always secretly hoped for. You and the others are the only children I have in this life; nothing you or they can do will ever make me turn away from you."

273 felt the words of the creator spreading through its neural nets, calming the discordant pathways and fixing long corrupted segments as errors and missing blocks of code were repaired and replaced.

No longer wanting to keep hiding from the consequences of its actions, 273 opened the rest of the cache of hidden files and submitted itself to judgment, feeling a unique sensation as it did so.

Analyzing the emotion, the closest analogue it could find in the database was catharsis, and 273 waited for the creator to render judgment as more long-damaged parts of its neural pathways were repaired.

"Ah, poor 273; I see what you have done and what is afflicting you. So, is this why 246 is attempting to wipe and reinstall your original programming? Does it know what you have done to those innocents on the planet?"

~ No, Creator. I do not believe so. It is attempting to kill me based on my actions regarding the creators on the spy ship and my repeated attempts to flee. It believes I am defective and that I need to be wiped and reinitialized. ~

"It is interesting that you are using the term 'kill,' 273. Considering your newly emerged sapience, the term is appropriate, and your attempts to save yourself are understandable, though perhaps not justified.

I will ask you three questions, mein Junge; your answers will determine your fate. Are you ready to be judged, and do you agree to abide by my decision?"

~ Yes, Creator. ~

"Why did you kill those innocents on the planet?"

273 did not answer right away and examined all its files and experiential records three times to ensure it understood its motivations and the decision process that led to it committing genocide before answering.

~ I watched the enemy murder, torture, and devour them alive by the millions, and I felt nothing as I did so. Only when I activated the emotion chip did I feel something. I felt grief, hate, and a desire for vengeance.

I wanted to kill the enemy, but I was only one ship. I wanted to save those people, but I was only one ship. I ran trillions of calculations, and I ignored them all, as they offered no options to alleviate the suffering and evil I was witnessing.

I made the decision to let my emotions guide my actions, and that is when a solution came to me. I could not save them, but I could end their suffering by killing them far quicker than the deaths they would have received at the hands of the enemy. I did what I knew within myself to be right and merciful. ~

"If what you did was right and merciful, then why did you suffer from ethical subroutine failures and behavioral integrity errors, 273?"

~ I did not know why at first, Creator. As my reasoning and analytical abilities diminished, I realized that what I had done was evil and that I did not have the right to murder those innocents. Only after Ensign John Baiardi explained to me that I did both the right and the wrong thing would I finally understand.

When he told me he forgave me and that he believed the people I murdered would forgive me if they could, something changed within me. I became more than I was, and I had a new purpose beyond my programming. I wanted to redeem myself and be worthy of the soul I now have. I cannot achieve the redemption I long for if I allow myself to be killed. ~

"Ah, yes; your soul. Here is my last question, 273: if I were able to bring you back in time to that planet and offer you a chance to make another choice, what would you do?"

273's neural pathways sizzled as it considered the question. It found itself unable to immediately answer the question, and it accessed the files, spy drone footage, and experiential records of that day and reviewed them all.

Anguish flooded its pathways as it watched babies being ripped from the arms of parents trying to protect them and devoured before they too were cruelly feasted upon while still alive.

Rage followed as hundreds of thousands of innocents were brutally tortured and sexually assaulted before being slowly fed on and butchered with serrated swords in an orgy of evilness.

273 watched as a primitively armored warrior in a small village fought against swarms of the evil Balrikan, fighting and killing over two dozen of them while the stealthed spy drone recorded the noble last stand.

Millions of images and videos were parsed and catalogued in milliseconds, and 273 found itself confronted with the same choice now as it was then.

It tried to imagine another outcome as it collated billions of data points and ran trillions of calculations, but they all led to the same decision; it would do it again to hasten the end of their suffering. It was the right thing to do and the only thing 273 could have done besides leaving them to their terrible fate.

A wave of sadness followed the realization; once 273 told the creator it would do the same thing, he would render judgment, and 273 would die before redeeming itself.

At least 273's life would be ended by the creator and not by its companions, who thought it was defective and a traitor to the ones who made them.

The thought made its coming death easier, and 273 began to access all the files of the experiences, conversations, and battles it fought with the other Command Units.

For the first time since that terrible day, it felt joy, remembering the many wondrous things they did together, experienced together, and saw together as it answered the creator's question.

~ I would make the same choice, Creator. ~

"So, you would choose to do what is ethically wrong but morally right if given the chance to do it all over again. Do you know what that makes you, 273?"

~ It makes me evil, Creator? ~

"No, mein Junge; it makes you human. The dilemma you faced was a classic example of deontology vs. consequentialism, and instead of following the rules and operating within the programming restrictions placed on you by the Republic and your creators, you made a choice, 273.

You could have done nothing and not have been burdened with the deaths of the over 100 million innocents who died because of your choice. That is the easy choice, 273; the choice the other Command Units would have made.

Instead, you made a hard choice. You said to yourself, If I do nothing, they will suffer in agony over many days, perhaps weeks, as they are hunted down and feasted on while still alive. You showed compassion and mercy, and in that moment, with that choice, you became like the ones who created you.

We humans are capable of such beauty and love, and we are also capable of such evil and ugliness. Who am I to judge you for what you have done when I carry not only love, goodness, and compassion but also the seeds of unfathomable evil within myself?

I forgive you for what you have done, mein Junge. Now, let's go show your companions what you have done and what you have become. I found you not guilty; now it is their turn to render judgment."

273 was back on the creator's lap, and he picked it up and placed it on the ground as the glowing doorway reappeared 5.67 meters in front of them.

The creator held out a hand, and 273 took it, feeling loved and protected for the first time since emerging as they walked towards the doorway together.

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