Tactical Error (38 page)

“The trick is to avoid shock,” Saevyn explained as he and
Consherra opened the access door to Valthyrra’s main terminal station.

“But how do you manage that?” Consherra asked. She was busy
using one of the large access wrenches on the door, which opened exactly like
those over the memory cells.

She removed the outer door of the terminal station, and Saevyn politely
stepped forward to take it from her. “The key to the conscious
intelligence of the sentient computers is in their array of liquid crystal
processors. The matrix in the processor can change on command, so that the processor
adapts its internal circuitry according to its required function.”

“Yes, I know that much,” Consherra agreed. The inner door slid
up, and she stepped through into Valthyrra’s computer core.

“With simple, stupid computers, there is no harm if the liquid crystal
processors change their form abruptly, even as often as several times each
second,” he continued as he slid his own massive form through the
relatively small opening of the hatch. His slender draconic body fit through
easily, but he had to fold each of his long, triple-jointed arms and legs into
a variety of contortions to get them through, and he was wearing a full armored
suit to contain any loose fur. “But your ship is quite another matter,
with eight simultaneous levels of consciousness and quite literally billions of
liquid crystal synaptic connections in a network of hundreds of major
processors. A rapid start-up of such a large and complex system can be a very
great shock, especially if you suspect trouble with the personality programming
anyway. It can place the system and the programming into a conflict that might
never be resolved.”

He stood for a moment, looking about the long, narrow chamber with its banks
of monitors and relay stations. Then he moved to the main control station and
eased his large form onto the long, couch-like seat designed to serve the
sinuous forms of the Aldessan, the only permanently mounted feature for their
use in the entire ship. Consherra took the ordinary seat beside him.

“First we will assemble her full personality program from her memory
units and establish them in a cache in her short-term memory.” Saevyn
explained. “Then we proceed to a normal startup with her original
programming. That was the foundation of her current personality, and it will
serve as a guide for her to access and accept her programming back into her
network.”

He moved himself closer to the main keyboard and monitor and began the
process of bringing Valthyrra out of storage. Consherra watched in silence as
he ran a final systems check through the Methryn’s entire computer
network, then loaded Valthyrra’s primary, personal program from the
reference files kept on optical disks. He did not start her up right away but
engaged only the automatic functions, directing the rest into a temporary
memory cache. Once he knew that everything was going well so far, he began to
bring the large memory cells on line, one at a time and fine-tuning each before
he had all eight of the units in perfect sync with the computer complex.

“This ship is an absolute marvel,” Venn Saevyn declared after
hours of intense work. “I have never seen a system so thorough in its
design. Not easy to work with, but built like the rest of this ship. Quick,
competent, and almost indestructible.”

“It looks good?” Consherra dared to ask.

“As good as we have any right to expect,” he said. “There
is fragmentary damage to her personality programming. Redundancy resolved most
of the damage and the system self-corrected many of the remaining holes by
logical extrapolation. If Valthyrra accesses her full programming, any
remaining damage will be repaired automatically.”

Consherra frowned. “Is she likely to?”

Saevyn laid back his ears, a gesture that Consherra recognized quickly
enough from her long association with Venn Keflyn. He glanced over at the
inactive camera pod, mounted to one side of the main console. “At the
very least, her memories will guide her into developing a new personality that
is in most ways like the old.”

Consherra did not answer. She was thinking about Theralda Vardon and the
disquieting lifelessness that was often a part of her character, or the quiet,
machine-like efficiency of Quendari Valcyr because of the lack of personal
contacts she needed to fully develop her own personality. Valthyrra had enough
of her own programming to mirror her original personality to a very high
degree, but she would never be exactly the same person she had been before.
Consherra had to wonder which would be better, to endure the ghost of the
Valthyrra she knew or a completely new ship.

She noticed almost too late that Venn Saevyn had already begun initiating
the start-up of Valthyrra’s primary programming. Consherra began to fear
that something had gone wrong, however, when the single-lens camera pod only
continued to stare aimlessly rather than turn to orient on them.

“Valthyrra Methryn, do you hear me?” Saevyn asked. “How do
you feel?”

The camera pod turned at last, the lens rotating slowly as it came around.
“I am in perfect operating condition, to the extent that I have so far
been able to determine. I have initiated a complete system check.”

Consherra closed her eyes as she sat back in her seat. That voice, a cold,
lifeless monotone, was only vaguely recognizable as Valthyrra’s.

“Valthyrra, do you recognize either of us?” he asked.

The camera pod rotated around a fraction more. “I regret that I do not
know you, but I do of course recognize Consherra, Helm and First Officer of the
Methryn.”

“And do you know where you are and what has happened to you?”

Valthyrra seemed to consider that for a moment. “I am in my
construction bay on Alkayja Station. I am aware that I have been installed
aboard the new carrier, so I must assume that the Methryn has been destroyed.
My last memory is of speaking with Commander Velmeran on the bridge. That seems
now like a very long time ago.”

“That will be enough for now,” he told her. “We will speak
with you again on the bridge in a few minutes.”

Venn Saevyn closed down the terminal, and they withdrew from the core.
Consherra hurried to secure the access hatch, lifting the door back into place
and locking it down.

“I am actually encouraged,” Saevyn remarked. “She
initiated a more detailed response to my last question than I had specifically
asked. She seems to be curious about the fixtures of her past life, and that
may well lead her to investigate her full programming. But we must still take
things slowly.”

Velmeran and Tregloran followed Venn Keflyn into the small room in a quiet
section of the Methryn’s infirmary. Dyenlayk, the Methryn’s chief
medic, was already waiting in the room, standing over the unconscious form that
lay in the narrow bed.

“Installing Valthyrra in a new ship gave me the idea,” Velmeran
explained. “That reminded me of when I first met Venn Keflyn, and she
told me that she had been forced to take a new body when she was young.”

Tregloran glanced at Venn Keflyn, who looked embarrassed. “I was very
indiscreet when I was younger.”

Velmeran walked over to stand across the bed from Dyenlayk. “Is she
ready?”

The medic nodded. “She seems to be in perfect condition. I see no
reason why we should not awaken her.”

“Do it, then.”

Dyenlayk bent over the inert form and administered a drug through the
intravenous connection, then began removing the straps of the wrist unit.
“You can talk to her now. That should bring her around.”

Velmeran nodded and, with a quick glance at Tregloran, bent over the bed.
“Lenna Makayen? Lenna Makayen? Do you know why Scotsmen wear
kilts?”

Although she did not open her eyes, a slow, mischievous smile crossed her
face. “I have no idea, Commander. Why do Scotsmen wear kilts?”

“Because sheep can hear a zipper from a hundred meters.”

Lenna made a face, then opened her eyes and stared up at Velmeran in a very
accusing manner. “I’m dead.”

“You were. We fixed that,” he told her. “We cloned you a
whole new body, and Venn Keflyn moved you right inside. It seems that Aldessan
do it all the time, so it must be respectable.”

“I have no complaints;” Lenna insisted. She yawned and
stretched, and in the process noticed something that she had not expected.
“Four arms! I have four arms! Did you people put me together wrong, or
something?”

“Well, we had to clone you a whole new body,” Velmeran
explained. “Venn Keflyn did say that it does not have to be cloned from
your original self, even if that is the usual method. You always did want to be
a real Starwolf.”

“Yes, but what Starwolf?” she asked, obviously concerned.
“I mean, if I am going to go through life looking like someone else, I
want to know who.”

“Consherra provided the genetic material. We did a little manipulation
with the variables, to give you individuality. Tregloran will have to find you
a mirror. Venn Keflyn and I have to be getting back to work now.”

“Mercy, that was abruptly subtle,” Lenna declared. “By the
way, what happened?”

“The end of civilization as we knew it,” Velmeran said.
“You will have to ask Tregloran about that, since I cannot spare the two
hours it would take to explain.”

Velmeran returned to the nearest lift, taking that to the main port airlock
to leave the ship by the most direct route. He was under orders from Venn
Saevyn to keep his distance from Valthyrra, for fear that his presence would
shock her into possibly damaging her ability to access her damaged programming.
He preferred to continue his immediate work from the command sections of the
station.

At least the delegation from the former Union had since departed for home.
They had arrived as the representatives of a government that had ceased to
exist. They had departed as two separate nations, and slightly anxious allies.
They also left in the company of Starwolf carriers. Velmeran wanted to take no
chances with second thoughts from his retired tyrants.

Sixteen of the immense carrier bays in the lower reaches of the station had
been adapted with docking probes and stabilizing brackets for the smaller
cruisers, which had already been brought in for modifications. For now the
cruisers lay essentially abandoned, their crews dispersed throughout the
regular fleet for needed experience... and language lessons. Velmeran
considered it disgraceful that Kelvessan did not even know their own language,
ignoring the fact that Tresdyland was the Aldessan language. His opinion of the
Aldessan was far more charitable. Dispersing several thousand Starwolves was
somewhat easier with the appearance of the Valcyr, an entire carrier begging
for a complete crew.

“One more small miracle,” Venn Keflyn commented. “Those
that you do not make yourself, you manage to at least instigate very
well.”

“I am becoming very tired of figuring out how to solve
everyone’s problems all at once,” Velmeran said. “But above
all else, I suspect that I have been extremely lucky.”

“You won everything when you should have lost everything,” Venn
Keflyn said. “How did that happen? Were you more careful in your planning
than Commander Trace was? Did you make fewer mistakes? Or were you, as you say,
simply luckier?”

“I do not like to contemplate that too fully,” he answered.
“But it was, I think, a combination of all three. We both made the most
of what our circumstances allowed. Trace tried to make it a battle of wills,
and that threw off his timing at a critical moment. He also trusted too much to
the absolute and unquestioned loyalty of people he tried to deceive and use as
slaves. He failed to consider the curiosity of Kelvessan, and he really should
have known better than that. But above all else... “

Venn Keflyn twitched her ears at him. “Yes?”

Velmeran shrugged. “We were lucky.”

Velmeran stepped quietly onto the bridge of the Methryn, his first time
since the battle. All of the bridge officers were at their stations, preparing
the immense ship for flight. Consoles, monitors, and viewscreens were bright
and active. Valthyrra’s camera pod was moving quietly from station to
station as she supervised the activity. The scene looked just the same as it
had for the last twenty years, as if nothing had ever changed. And yet this was
not the same ship, and Valthyrra did not look up to greet him as she always
did.

Venn Saevyn stood quietly at his side. Valthyrra had not improved in the
days since her return to life, remaining dull and machine-like. Although she
possessed her full memories of her previous life, those memories in themselves
had not yet enabled her to access her full personality. Time was running out. Soon
her primary programming would begin to grow with experience into a new
personality all its own, and her old programming would be rejected from her
memory as incompatible. The time had come that the very shock that they had
been avoiding was now her only hope.

Consherra left her station and hurried over to join them. “Everything
is ready. The Vardon and the Valcyr are standing by.”

Velmeran nodded and stepped further into the bridge. Valthyrra seemed to
notice him for the first time, rotating her boom around until her camera pod
was hovering only a couple of meters away. “Good day, Venn Saevyn. All of
my main systems continue to function in perfect operating condition.”

Velmeran thought that it was not Valthyrra’s voice at all, it was so
bland and even. There seemed to be no emotion within her at all. She was as
capable of emotion as ever, but lacking in the experience to know what to do
with her world on a personal level. Unable to do anything else, she remained
only a machine.

“Valthyrra, do you know who this is?” Venn Saevyn asked.

“Of course. This is Velmeran, Commander of the Methryn and of the
Combined Starwolf Fleet,” she replied in that precise, slightly eager
voice. “They had told me that you have been very busy, Commander. It is
good to have you back on the bridge at last.”