Birgit gripped the sticks, a manic grin on her face. Aquico sat next to her, remotely piloting the Halberd. She squeaked as the controls in her hand went dead, the blast of the Graviton Bombardier temporarily knocking out the Transitional Radio connection. Birgit laughed, and jostled Aquico’s arms. “You’ve got to do better than that, Aquico. You’re far too predictable.”
The controls returned to life, and Aquico tapped at some buttons. As she looked at Birgit, a mischievous smile crossed her lips. “Mada nani mo miteinai.” She wrenched the control sticks. “Catch me, now.” Bobbing and weaving, Aquico looked at Birgit from the corner of her eyes, watching her movements. Birgit swiveled the Bombardier, and Aquico flipped some toggles, toggles that would make the Halberd even more responsive to her controls – pushing the craft to, and even beyond the design limits. She flipped the speed up to full, but stayed on a course that kept the ship within range of the Vanguard. Birgit might have power for the Graviton Bombardier, but the Vanguard’s engines certainly weren’t up to the movements necessary to match the Halberd in a distance chase.
Aquico watched as sweat began to bead on Birgit’s brow, her attention focused so narrowly that Aquico could’ve stood up and walked away without her noting a thing. Aquico kept up the pantomime for a moment more, moving the handles, but gradually her movements slowed. She watched on the screen as the Halberd jerked and jiggered. She carefully pulled one of the earbuds from her vest pocket, slipping it into her ear. With a pinch to the buttons on her vest, the phlogiston flowed, activating the bone-mic she’d had implanted shortly after joining Starmada. The electromagnetic induction of the flow of phlogiston connected her to the ship’s comm systems. She waited a moment, and flipped a toggle on the desk, activating her connection to the Halberd.
She began talking, sub-vocalizing, moving her vocal apparatus, her lips, her tongue, her larynx. “How’s it going out there. How are the controls responding?”
She waited a moment for the transmission lag, and couldn’t help but smiling as she hear the voice of Van on the other end. “Things are going generally quite well. The systems are responding. I’m not noticing any sort of feedback issues. I think you’ve successfully migrated my pattern to your parallel computing systems.”
Aquico smiled at the news. She heard Birgit fire off several shots of the Graviton Bombardier, and temporarily lost contact with Van aboard the Halberd. She waited for the connection to restore, but it failed to do so. She began scanning for the ship when Birgit shoved at her shoulder. “You know you’re not supposed to fly out of range of my guns! Get back here!”
Aquico looked at Birgit, and stammered, “I didn’t – I mean, I wouldn’t, I mean, I – I – I,”
Captain Spitzer loomed over their shoulders. “What do you mean, Aquico, that you didn’t, that you wouldn’t. Where is the Halberd?”
Marie called from the wheel well. “Halberd’s moving back into range – and Aquico’s not driving.” She turned to fix Aquico with a stare. “Are you, Aquico?”
Aquico rose. “No – I thought this would be as good a time as any to test out Van.”
Captain Spitzer’s eyes shot wide. “Van? As in the artificial intelligence that Birgit, Hans, and Jimmy brought back from the other Vanguard?”
Aquico hung her head in shame. “Yes, Captain.” She took a step forward. “Gomen’nasai.”
Captain Spitzer looked at her, unable to express her frustration and sense of betrayal. “Gomen’nasai?” She stepped forward. “GOMEN’NASAI?! You introduced a potentially harmful computer program into MY ship, risking MY crew, and all you can come up with is a pitiful sorry, that I’m sure you’re going to blame on scientific curiosity?” Captain Spitzer pursed her lips, her voice hard as steel. “You’re confined to quarters for at least the next few hours, Aquico, and I may have to call a court-martial.”
Aquico walked from the bridge, dejected, and all were silent, until the computer chirped at Birgit, who read the message and turned to face the Captain. “Captain, I have a message from Van. He has moved himself into the long-term storage aboard the Halberd. He has disconnected the communications system following this transmission, and he set the ship to auto-pilot on docking approach with Vanguard.” Birgit paused for a moment, and brushed at her hair. “He says that he means no harm, and that he’ll wait until you are ready to allow him out of his containment, Captain”
Captain Spitzer frowned, straightening the lapels of her coat. “At least someone thinks about the rest of the crew.”
Birgit put up a display showing the results of the graviton bombardment against the function of the ship. “The Halberd was able to withstand the attack, Captain, with only minor effects on the shipboard systems – at least one of our defensive measures is working out.”
The bridge remained in silence, until the lift doors opened and Mistelsbog strode up to Birgit, his expression stern. “You cannot use that gun anymore.”
Birgit looked at him. “I’m sorry?”
Mistelsbog jabbed at the screen. “The shielding you’ve used is insufficient. It’s causing disruptions all over the ship.”
Birgit gestured at the screen. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve had no reports.”
Mistelsbog crossed his arms over his chest. “You have one now.”
Birgit rose, meeting Mistelsbog’s gaze at eye-level. “And just what are you complaining about, Mistelsbog? There has been no structural damage to the ship. No reports of nausea, of gravity fluctuations. What are you going to complain about, then?”
Mistelsbog sniffed. “It’s obvious that your people don’t have the sensitivity that we Yrgoans do. Your shielding isn’t sufficient, and it risks hurting me and Sariadzu.”
Captain Spitzer walked up to him. “Mistelsbog, we’ll have to find a way to shield you. There’s very little that we can do at this point. With time of the essence, we can’t afford the delays to dramatically increase the shielding on the Graviton Bombardier.
Mistelsbog stepped closer to her. “Captain, you’ll make all the changes you can – if you want me functional in the upcoming battle, you’ll make those changes.”
Captain Spitzer put her hands to her hips. “A bit imperious, aren’t we, Mistelsbog?”
Mistelsbog rubbed at his temples. “More like suffering a migraine, Captain.”
Captain Spitzer’s bravado dropped a bit. “We’ll do everything that we can, Mistelsbog. Do we have any sort of analgesic that we can give you?”
Mistelsbog dropped his hands. “I’ll go consult with the Doctor, see if he has anything to help.”
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