Torchship (23 page)

Bickering began over the bunks. Two containers were set up
as dorms, with movable curtains for subdividing them. The white robes claimed
the end of one. Reed’s group tried to have the other to themselves. A couple of
men emerged from the free-for-all and persuaded their way into Reed’s. Mitchie
and Bing had to intervene to calm things down. A couple of extra curtains came
out of a supply hatch.

Guo was tightening the fittings on the grey water lines when
his handcomm sounded. “Can you put some extra doors in the dorm?” asked Bing.

“Sure.”

“Can you get that done before lift?”

“Not if you want it to stay airtight.”

“Stand by.” He started on the clean water return. “Okay, we’re
going to give up on that one as a shelter for now. I’ll mark where we need the
doors.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. I’m trying to keep people from strangling each other
here.”

“I’ll go get the rig.”

Guo considered welding with an electrical arc instead of
lasers the worst part of working on an analog ship. It wasn’t too bad if he
could do the work in free-fall. Hauling the gear up from the converter room . .
. he was delighted when Mitchie reached through the hatch to help guide them up
the ladder.

“Thanks.” She grunted a reply that would have been “you’re
welcome” in lower gravity.

Bing had gathered the passengers by the main hatch for a
combination welcome speech and safety briefing. Guo looked at the crowd. “Where’s
the rest?”

“In bed,” answered Mitchie. “Half the Origin Set waited to
the last minute to have their implants removed. They’re still feeling the
anesthetic.”

“That’s one way to deal with lift stress.” He made a small
cut on the oval Bing had marked on the container wall. “Go inside and see if I
just burnt something important.”

Journey Day 0. Sukhoi System. Acceleration: 0 m/s
²

Fives Full
was in the groove for the gate. She coasted
at 10% over the minimum transition speed, aimed straight at the center of the
circle.

This time they didn’t have the Terraforming Service
authorizing their trip. The local naval flotilla felt obligated to talk them
out of passing through the gate.

“Thank you for your concern, SUKGATCOM,” said Captain
Schwartzenberger. “We appreciate you taking the time to talk with us. This is
Fives
Full
, en route to Old Earth, returning Demeter.” The commodore on the radio
demanded an explanation of why they weren’t coming back to Sukhoi. “We’re not
retracing our path through any system. If anything tries something on the way
we don’t want to give it a second chance. I don’t want them learning from their
mistakes on the second try.” This triggered a new speech focusing on a captain’s
duty to the safety of passengers.

Schwartzenberger turned the speaker volume down. “Any of ‘em
actually in our way?”

“No, sir,” said Mitchie. “A couple of fighters hanging
around. Not close enough to get plumed.”

He went back to giving soothing answers to the Navy. Mitchie
took new sightings to verify they were still on course. The commodore went
abruptly silent as they passed through. Jarama’s sun appeared in the center of
the cockpit dome.

Mitchie laughed. “A new system! We must be the first humans
to see this in years.”

“Well, the Navy sends scouts through every few months.”

“Oh.”

“Next system we’ll be the first in five years. Longer if
that Pilgrim ship didn’t make it through here.”

“That’ll be exciting. Hah! Spotted a gas giant.” She secured
the telescope and took the sextant out of its case. “I should have our position
and a rough course in an hour.”

“Good. I’ll go let the passengers know we’ve started on the
way.”

The gate had dropped them into a nicely empty part of the
system. An above the ecliptic dogleg let them stay twenty million klicks from
any planet. The only one with any noticeable radio traffic was Jarama, grave of
180 million people.

Mitchie alternated between studying Jarama through the
telescope and watching the full spectrum scanner as they coasted by it.
Continuous boost would have cost too much fuel so half their time in the system
was spent in a ballistic trajectory.

“Whoa! Captain, look at this.” The radio spectrum display
had gone off the scale. She turned up the resistance.

“Looks like we’ve been noticed.”

Mitchie triggered the radar. Nothing was closer than the
planet. The scanner showed the signal marching up and down the spectrum with
varying patterns.

“Is it trying to communicate with us?” she asked.

“No,” said Schwartzenberger. “With the ship. It’s a data
attack, trying to subvert our computers.” He patted the window frame. “
Fives
is just too dumb for that to work.”

“Guess the AI isn’t too smart if it can’t realize that won’t
work on us.”

“It’s smart enough. This isn’t costing it anything. And it
has no way to know we’re an analog ship from our thermal signs.”

“I’m tempted to send ‘give up’ in Morse.”

“Let’s not encourage it.”

The transmissions stopped shortly after they began the
deceleration burn for the gate.

Journey Day 17. Jarama System. Acceleration: 10 m/s
²

Billy escorted the guests to the galley. “Welcome,” said
Captain Schwartzenberger. “Thank you for joining us for Sunday dinner. We’ve
never had enough passengers to make a tradition of this on this ship, but I
think this will be a long enough voyage for us to start one.”

“You’re quite welcome, Captain,” said Burton Reed. The
leader of the pilgrims had brought three of his members along. “May I introduce
the senior members of our fellowship? Rene Figallo, Poseci Waradi, and John
Bertelsen.” The middle-aged men nodded in turn. Mitchie was certain they all
had spent their days wrestling computers into submission.

The galley table fit nine reasonably well. The passengers
were mixed in with the crew except for Burton, who got the end seat opposite
the captain. It was just as well Alexi was on bridge watch. Guo maneuvered for
a seat in the middle where he could talk to all of them. Bing handled
introductions going the other way. A few minutes went by explaining what a “deckhand”
actually did. Rene compared it to his work keeping Sukhoi’s water systems
running. Burton said, “That’s important work, mind you. It pays an enormous
amount, which is how we’ve been able to pay for this trip.”

“I hope the planet won’t suffer from you being gone,” said
Bing. She passed bowls with the last salad down the table.

“No, I trained my assistant well,” replied Rene. “They’ll be
fine.”

“So why did you want to leave?” asked Guo.

“To Transcend,” Rene answered.

None of the crew had a reply to that. Poseci jumped in. “The
AIs and human population on Earth have merged into a higher being, transcending
our physical existence. We want to be part of that, to be recorded and
uploaded. We’ll have a permanent life, able to explore concepts we can’t even
conceive of now.”

“How can you be sure you’ll be—recorded?” asked Guo.

“There’s no reason for them not to. It’s a trivial amount of
effort for an AI of that level, instantaneous.”

“But why would they bother?”

“Why wouldn’t they? There’s data to be had, so they’d
collect it. Lack of curiosity is an organic flaw.”

“Just because they observe your data doesn’t mean they’re
going to save it,” said Guo.

“Or another AI might wipe out the one that recorded you with
its data,” added Mitchie.

“Ludicrous. They’d never be so inefficient as to destroy
data,” countered John.

“AI disputes have always reached a Pareto optimum within a
very short period. It’s illogical to think any could be continuing on Earth
after this much time,” said Rene.

Bing lost interest in her salad. “AIs fought each other
during the Betrayal. Gave a lot of people a chance to escape.”

“Transitions are always difficult,” said Burton, unhappy
with the tone of the discussion. “It’s unfortunate that so much harm took
place. I wish people could have recognized it was coming and cooperated. It
would have been easier on everyone.”

“Cooperated how?” demanded Bing. “Just laid down and died
when the AIs wanted to use them as raw materials? Billions died in the
Betrayal! Most of the humans who ever lived died then!” She cut herself off as
Schwartzenberger laid a hand on her wrist.

“Uploading isn’t killing,” said Rene.

“How can you tell?” asked Guo. “Seriously, when you go down
to Earth, how do you know you won’t be killed?”

“AIs collect all the data they can. They’ll record us in
exact detail, including our memories and personality to add to their databases.”

“And your current bodies?”

“Are just unnecessary raw material once we’ve been uploaded.”

“You’re assuming your personalities will still be active
afterwards. You could be erased, or archived in passive storage. That’s a
permanent death.”

“That’s scarcity-driven thinking. AI worlds have an
abundance of processing power. With all matter and energy devoted to meeting
needs even the lowest priority demand can be met.”

“You’re making a profession of faith.”

“No, this is a clear extrapolation from existing data.”

“Then why have we never gotten real communications from the
uploaded?” Guo looked smug as he delivered this thrust.

“An uploaded mind has new and greater concerns than what
those left behind are thinking.”

Billy paused in passing out plates of meatloaf to say, “Sounds
like what my pastor said when I asked why Grandma couldn’t send me Christmas
presents from heaven.”

Rene didn’t appreciate the wisecrack. “Superstition is
irrelevant to this discussion.”

Guo did. “Theology seems very relevant. Your logic has led
you to the same place as revelation, needing to explain a key issue in life
after death. So uploading is equivalent to death.”

“It’s not
death
. It’s just a more efficient way of
holding us. Our bodies are just a recording medium for the data that forms our
mind. An inefficient one.”

“More efficient is better?”

“Always.”

“I disagree,” said Guo. “Take our pilot’s hand.” He turned
to Mitchie beside him and reached toward her hand with an inquiring lift of his
brows. She set her fork on the plate and placed her hand in his. “For flying
the ship, replacing it with a servomotor would be more efficient and accurate.
But her hand can do more than control engines. It can be a weapon,” curling it
into a fist, “or a communications device,” to Schwartzenberger’s relief he
shaped a ‘thumbs-up,’ “or a sensor,” he stroked the inside of her forearm, “sensitive
enough to tell if I’m using one finger or two.”

The tingle up her spine had been equally strong both times.
Mitchie withdrew her hand. “Efficiency means giving up many capabilities,” Guo
concluded.

“Those aren’t mental capabilities, but physical ones. If an
uploaded mind needs some fingers it can just desire them and the AI can create
them in an instant.”

“If the AI desires to help the upload. And if the uploaded
mind hasn’t had its ability to desire fingers edited away.”

“There’s no motive for an AI to edit the mind. It’s too
powerful to need to.”

“Then why haven’t any of those billions of uploaded minds
sent messages to the people they loved?”

“Something other than ‘come join us,’” said Bing.

“I’ll ask them when I’m on Earth,” said Rene.

“Do that. Then send me a message with their answer,” said
Guo.

“Why should I bother?”

“That’s how you’ll win this argument.”

“I think I’ll have better things to do with all of infinity
to explore.”

“Guo. Your food’s getting cold,” said Captain Schwartzenberger.
The mechanic nodded, took a forkful of meatloaf, and let the passenger have the
last word.

Journey Day 29. Lunghai System. Acceleration: 0 m/s
²

After a week the captain had given permission for individual
watches. Mitchie liked having the bridge to herself. Not working a sixteen hour
day was even better. The downside was boredom. Lunghai displayed even less
interest in them than Jarama had.

She’d taken up astrography as a hobby. The almanacs for
AI-controlled systems were just extrapolations from when humans had lived
there. She filled the ship’s log with sightings she’d taken and the calculated
errors from the almanac. She was down to finding the larger asteroids when
something flashed across the telescope.

She flipped on the radar. A blip appeared, shockingly close.
Nothing showed in that direction to her bare eye. The second sweep of the radar
showed it closing. A quick scan with the telescope found nothing. The radar
pinged it a third time—closer, and closing damn fast. The telescope went back
in its case.

Mitchie pulled herself into the pilot couch and buckled the
hip strap. The rest could wait. She flipped on the PA. “All hands! All hands!
Secure for acceleration and maneuver! Secure for acceleration and maneuver!
This is no drill!” Fortunately the radiators had been retracted once they’d
cooled down from the last burn so she didn’t have to wait for them to reel back
in.

It was Billy’s turn to watch the passengers. She switched to
his handcomm. “How soon can I light up?”

“They’re moving,” answered Billy. “But they’re shit at
free-fall. Give us a few gravs for a couple minutes and we can get them in
bunks faster.” She could hear Reed in the background shouting about forming a
line.

“Will do.” She switched back to PA. “Three gravs acceleration
starting in ten seconds. Secure for high acceleration and maneuver. Five
seconds.” Her fingers twitched on the throttle until she shoved it one notch
forward. As she settled into the couch she fastened the rest of the straps. A
glance in the object’s direction showed a small but bright torch plume.