Ship Wrecked Page 6

  The droid didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

  On the phone, Cameron heard another female’s voice in the background. “Who is that?” he asked.

  “Ginger … she’s driving me. What do you mean, turn off the engines?” she asked, sounding exasperated.

  “That wasn’t meant for you. And I told you; I’m on a spaceship. One I think is about to take off. Heather, look … I don’t have a lot of time. Just stay away from the damn mountain. Can you do that?”

  “I guess.”

  “Heather, I watched that same creature kill someone. Someone I knew. Like right here in front of me.”

  Cameron waited for her reply, but none came. He glanced at the phone finding the call had dropped. He wondered if she’d even heard his last plea.

  The droid rose up, hovering now to eye level.

  Cameron said, “I will shoot you. I know how to use this thing … Do you understand me? I will destroy …” pointing the same hand that held the iPhone, he gestured around him, “all of this. Is that what you want?”

  “You would be killing yourself in the process. Is that what you … want?” the droid shot back.

  Before Cameron could reply, another of the annoying holographic displays appeared next to them. It was a view of their spacecraft, or one very similar to it. The ship on display was rising high into the atmosphere, the curved horizon of planet Earth dominating the background. He’d seen the same majestic imagery numerous times before—mostly taken from the International Space Station, orbiting some two hundred miles above Earth. He watched as billowing white cloud formations obscured part of the deep blue Atlantic Ocean below. Farther on lay the east coast of North America. All of a sudden Cameron realized it was not some look-a-like spaceship he was viewing on the display.

  “We’re … um … that’s us? Orbiting?”

  “Correct,” the droid replied matter of factly.

  “I told you not to take off! I warned you.”

  The droid said nothing.

  “Land. Land this ship!” Cameron barked, positioning the muzzle of the weapon against the droid’s metallic casing.

  “I am what is referred to as an automated formulaic construct. My intelligence processes do not involve experiencing emotional responses like other automated intuitive constructs do aboard this vessel. Or like a primitive organic being, such as yourself.”

  Cameron, not sure what the droid was talking about, was not about to argue the point that emotions were an encumbrance. “Why the hell can’t you just let me off, then be on your way?”

  “This vessel utilizes a rare element to catalyze its propulsion system. As it is, we left your world before we were able to fully supplement our reserves.”

  “Yeah … Xenon. I already know all that.”

  “The Primion has minimal amounts of Xenon gas reserves, sufficient enough for three ignition starts only. We are en-route to a suitable planet, safer, to complete the replenishing process.”

  “Primion?” Cameron repeated.

  “This vessel. That is the equivalent phonetic pronunciation, taken from the core language of the Tindrill.”

  “Tindrill?”

  “The species of being that constructed this spacecraft; it also is an equivalent phonetic pronunciation,” the droid added.

  “And you’re called XI?”

  “That nomenclature is sufficient.”

  “Will you take me back … to Earth? When you’ve filled up with Xenon on whatever planet you visit?”

  “Negative.”

  “What do you mean negative? What am I supposed to do? Just hang around this ship until I grow old and die?”

  The droid didn’t reply.

  Something else occurred to Cameron. How safe am I here? Will this hovering beer keg of a droid attempt to kill me the second I let my guard down? “What are your intentions toward me?” he asked.

  “I have no intentions toward you.”

  “Let me put it this way. Do you … intend me any harm?”

  “I answered that question.”

  “Who is in charge here?”

  “I am,” XI said.

  “Who gives you orders?”

  “The preceding course of events, onboard this vessel, were highly abnormal. Hierarchical structure here is now indeterminate.”

  “Well, I’m the only organic being around, right? You should take orders from me,” Cameron said, having to at least give it a try.

  “Automated formulaic constructs, such as XI, do not require the leadership of an organic being to fulfill its onboard functions.”

  Cameron knew he was getting nowhere with his present line of questioning. “So you tell me then. What do you think I should do?”

  The droid’s hovering, minutely fluctuating movements, were now slightly more noticeable. “You can experience space travel to the farthest reaches of the universe. I do not believe your specific species has accomplished such events yet. You can also more fully utilize the many educational and entertainment functions provided aboard the Primion.”

  “That’s all very well and good, but you have to have an end destination. Where are you taking us?” Cameron asked. “Would that be where the ones you called the Tindrill are from?”

  “Negative. The Primion has not fully completed its current mission parameters.”

  “That’s just stupid! The crew, including the one I met … Ramen … are all dead. Eaten by the Loth. That’s a pretty big reason to abort your mission parameters, don’t you think? I would guess that a ship this size requires a crew.” At some point during this last exchange, Cameron had lowered the weapon, holding it down now by his side.

  Suddenly, the droid momentarily lost altitude and then quickly rose back up to eye level. Studying the droid, he wondered if XI was functioning correctly. Is this thing firing on all cylinders?

  “Optimally, the Primion should have a full crew complement.”

  “Can I ask you something? Be honest … okay?” Cameron asked.

  “I am honest.”

  “Good. You were damaged and you seem to be malfunctioning in some way. Am I correct?”

  A pregnant pause ensued, lasting a full minute, before the droid answered.

  “Systems check complete. Analysis complete. Affirmative, you are correct. I have been damaged.” The droid, spinning one-third around on its axis, revealed a softball-sized indentation on its midsection.

  “Thanks to the Loth?” Cameron asked grimacing.

  “That is correct.”

  “Can you tell me what kind of damage you sustained? And explain it in words a twenty-year-old human can understand.”

  “Thirty-three micro-memory modules were fractured. Rerouting of resources partially successful. XI is operating at less than forty-two percent effectiveness.”

  “Does that explain why you refer to yourself in the third person every so often?” Cameron asked.

  “Perhaps. Affirmative.”

  Cameron felt a chill run down his back. Not only was he captive—onboard a vessel zooming farther and farther away from Earth—the ship was piloted by a totally dysfunctional droid.

  “Surely this ship … the Primion … has … um … a main computer? Its own artificial intelligence, correct?”

  “Affirmative. TAM is currently operating in Systems Administrations Mode only, in the background. XI has disabled TAM’s full functionality.”

  “TAM … so that’s the ship’s AI?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “This is crazy. You told me yourself that you are damaged, your memory modules screwed-up. You’re in no shape to be making decisions. Turn the AI back on. Then, maybe I can help fix your messed-up insides. I’m a whiz with a soldering iron.”

  “I do not know what a soldering iron is. TAM has proven to be working at inverse odds with that of XI. TAM does not comprehend the importance of completing previous set mission parameters.”

  And with those words, Cameron felt a first inkling of hope. Somehow, if he could get the ship’s AI, this
TAM’s computer back online, then maybe, just maybe, he could convince it to take him back to Earth.

  Chapter 12

  “Hello? Cam …? You there?” Heather looked down at her iPhone and found the connection was lost. “Oh God, come on!” she said, aggravated.

  “What happened?” Ginger asked, making a left turn off Horton onto Wayward—one of only three roads to traverse up the north side of Gant Mountain. They’d already discovered that the other two road entrances were completely blocked off by police cruisers. Nervous-looking deputies had waved them away.

  Heather, leaning forward, stared up through the windshield. It looked as if someone had thrown a rock at a bee’s nest—the angry sky was filled with circling news helicopters. She watched as the local WCAX news affiliate chopper skimmed just above the nearby tall pines, then merged into the disorganized fray above.

  “We can cut across the mountain. Take Clermont; it branches off up there … at the next right,” Heather said, as she turned down the volume on the radio news station. Redialing Cam, she held the phone to her ear then shook her head. “Only getting that all circuits are busy crap.”

  Ginger made the next right turn so slowly Heather shot an annoyed sideways glance her way. And then Ginger began to pump the brakes.

  “What is it …” she started to ask, clearly irritated, but then noticed the long line of cars on the main perpendicular road. She heard a grating blare of horns honking—the traffic jam ahead not moving.

  “They’re all trying to escape down the mountain,” Ginger said. “There’s no way we’re getting through that mess.” The car rolled to a stop.

  Heather glanced away from the line of cars, turning now to Ginger. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Well, obviously we can’t go any further. And we shouldn’t …” She turned the volume back up on the radio and, in mid-sentence, heard an excited male reporter describe something that seemed incomprehensible.

  “… a small ranch, nestled out in the open with what appears to be farm animals … maybe goats. It’s hard to make out that much detail from this distance. The creature is approaching from the northeast … and it’s moving fast. Hold on, okay? We’ve just been instructed … by military authorities … that we need to clear local airspace. Bill, this is what everyone’s been waiting for …

  Heather nearly jumped out of her seat—the sound of multiple jet engines roared close by overhead. Turning to Ginger, she urged, “I need to get up there. Turn around … We’ll find another way up.”

  “No … we can’t,” Ginger said, looking petrified.

  “Oh come on! What is it? You need to run home to protect your cat?” Heather snapped back. They both stared at the radio; the broadcaster continued:

  “We have five EA-18G U.S. Navy Growlers … Yeah … they are our most advanced attack fighters. We’re being told we need to leave the area. We’ll do our best to broadcast as long as possible. Oh my … we’re seeing this live, folks! The creature just demolished that small farmhouse, Bill, like it was made of toothpicks. Absolutely nothing’s left of it. The creature seems to be holding up in the animal pen now, gorging itself on the livestock! This is just … incredible … unbelievable. Hold on … We’ve got shots fired! Three of the Attack fighters just fired their missiles! I repeat, missiles fired.”

  “I think we’re closer than we thought, “Ginger said. “Look!”

  Heather didn’t need Ginger’s prompting, watching the billowing black smoke rise above the not-too-distant treetops.

  She redialed Cameron, and once again the call didn’t go through. She then redialed her father and, happily surprised, he answered the call. “Dad! … Oh God … I thought …”

  “I’m okay, Squeak. I’m … fine.”

  Heather, her eyes awash with tears uncontrollably flowing, cried, “What is happening? I was afraid you’d been killed, Dad. Are you … up on the mountain?”

  An icy-cold momentary silence followed. “You better not be telling me you’re up there … on Gant Mountain.”

  “I needed to find you. Make sure—”

  His thunderous voice cut her off in mid-sentence. “I specifically told you to stay clear of that place. Do you know how many people have been killed today? Thirty-five! Where exactly are you now?”

  “I don’t know … Maybe halfway up. On Clermont—”

  “God damn it! Get out of there! Get off that mountain now!”

  “Okay, okay! I was just worried about you!”

  “I’m not up there. I’m lying in the hospital, with a broken leg.”

  Heather exchanged a glance with Ginger, clearly able to hear his yelling too, as if she had the phone up to her own ear.

  “Hospital? But you’re really okay?”

  “Get … out … of … there! Now!”

  “Okay, okay! Ginger’s turning the car around, like right this second.” Heather twirled her finger in the air to get her friend moving.

  “Fine. Squeak you come find me at Birch Memorial. I have to go; there’s a lot going on, and we’re still trying to figure it all out.”

  Before hanging up, Heather remembered something Cam had told her. “Um … Dad? There’s something Cam said to me. You’ll think it’s crazy.”

  “I’m really busy, baby … Please not now …”

  “He said he was looking for a spaceship.”

  She waited for him to tell her she shouldn’t believe anything that Cam ever said. That he was nothing but trouble. That she’d be better off forgetting all about him. But he didn’t do that. She waited for him to say something.

  “Squeak … are you sure that’s what he said? This is serious.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Cam has never lied to me. Well, maybe …”

  “Just tell me exactly what he said.”

  “It was a weird text he’d sent. I thought he was screwing with me. Said that he’d picked up a hitchhiker, who was an alien, or something like that, and he was about to enter that Jericho compound up on the mountain. Something about a spaceship being there.

  “What else did he say?”

  “Nothing … I can show you the text. I haven’t talked to him since. I keep trying …”

  Ginger screamed. Startled, Heather fumbled the phone. Off to their left, trees were being toppled—flung aside as if they were mere blades of grass—as great concussive fireballs erupted all around them. The fighter jets had returned and seemed to be right overhead. Heather reached out for something to hold onto as the car violently shook. The creature emerged from the tree line a quarter of a mile away, and Heather also began to scream. Heather took in the gyrating six legs—its massive ugly head, where streams of saliva dripped down from wide-gaping jaws. Huge, blackened scorch marks covered much of its torso. She watched in horror as two more missiles struck the monster—one in the chest and one in the head—yet it still barreled forward, hardly missing a step.

  “It’s coming right for us!” Ginger screamed.

  “Drive! Go! Go! Go! Heather yelled, panic-stricken.

  Chapter 13

  The XI droid was busying itself at one of the peripheral virtual consoles, its small articulating claws moving fast on an input device. It then seemed to hesitate—perhaps communicating with the ship wirelessly, or in some other way. About to turn away, Cameron noticed the droid suddenly falter. Again, it dropped several inches, its balance askew, tilting first left then right. Although the whole episode lasted no more than a couple of seconds, it was enough to reconfirm that XI was seriously fucked up. Cameron wondered what would happen when the next episode came on, one XI wouldn’t be able to recover from.

  He had no idea where they currently were—somewhere in deep outer space. Long gone were the picturesque images of Earth. On the few displays still live, all he could see was a backdrop of deep black—countless streaks of starlight zooming by everywhere. He briefly examined his own situation: Alone—maybe already millions of miles away from Earth—and the strong possibility he might not live out the day. But he found he was
coping surprisingly well, considering. He looked about the oblong compartment and felt strangely exhilarated. The amazing technology here! He badly wanted to know how everything worked, the science behind it all. And he wanted to know the exact purpose of each unmanned station. Maybe they were pretty much the same—configured to be multi-tasking—depending on who was sitting there. It sure would have been nice to chat with an actual crewmember. He realized in spite of being scared, he was actually somewhat excited. Hell … I’m rocketing through space … in a remarkable spacecraft. In spite of the danger, this was an adventure of a lifetime.

  Reality taking a hold, he thought of Earth, then Heather, and wondered if he would ever see her again. He shoved the alien pistol beneath his T-shirt into the waistband of his pants.

  “XI?”

  The droid stopped what it was doing to spin around.

  “Am I a prisoner here?” Cameron watched as several additional LED-like lights began to blink along the top of XI’s matte black surface.

  “Indeterminate. For now, you are not.”

  “Good. So … I’m like a guest?”

  “Yes, you are a guest.”

  “Thank you. So am I free to move about the ship? Be on my own?”

  “You will need level one privileges for that.”

  “Is that difficult for you to do? Get me those privileges?”

  “Not difficult. It is done.”

  “Cool … Thanks. I’ll … um, go on then. Oh … Where do I go, you know, to the bathroom?”

  A new virtual holographic display popped into view directly before him. Translucent, Cameron still could see XI hovering on the other side. On display now was a map, more like a ship’s directory. A blinking red circle caught his eye, obviously the location of the nearest bathroom. He made a mental note: what he’d have to do to traverse from his current location on the bridge to the blinking red circle. “XI?”

  The droid did not answer.

  “Is there a way I can call this directory up myself? So I don’t have to keep bothering you?”