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Reparations Part Two-- 5 -- The alien closed to within fifty meters before turning to parallel their drift. Vanguard had not been allowed to come to a complete standstill, although the forward speed was down to a mere 374 meters per second. The alien hung alongside Vanguard as Mellon, Shenez, and Sender watched it on the hull cameras. Jafa and his men had disappeared into the bowels of the ship, armed and intent on their mission. They would serve as the last ditch defense against any hostile action from the alien. Elsewhere in Vanguard, the remainder of the crew was tying up loose ends before reporting to their own secure stations, where they would follow the situation on slave monitors. Mellon eyed the length of the other ship. It was an incomprehensible conglomeration of geometric shapes formed into a vaguely cubical form. It reflected Vanguard’s lights from a dull brownish resin that sealed over the underlying framework. He adjusted the focus. A different level of the ship snapped into clarity. "It’s like you can see right into it," he said. "Except for that resin, or whatever, it doesn’t seem to have an outer hull at all." "That would be consistent with LARNA’s inability to locate any life signs aboard," Shenez said. "Still, they could be so alien that LARNA may have scanned them and not recognized them as lifeforms." Mellon frowned. "What do you mean?" "Well, LARNA is just a computer after all. Artificial intelligence still has its limitations. If, for example, the aliens’ bodies were based on a heavier element than carbon, LARNA might not have found enough parameters to define them as life." Shenez smiled apologetically at his scowl. "She might have catalogued them as something else entirely." "So," Sender said, examining the screen closely, "we could be looking right at the aliens and still not know it?" "Hell, that whole ship would be a lifeform," Shenez said, motioning at the image. Mellon looked again at the vessel. Suddenly, the resin seemed more than just inert lacquer. It glistened with subdued menace, and the shadows between the shapes under the resin moved oddly. He shook his head and the image faded, leaving the alien ship an enigmatic cube again. "Let’s not let our imagination get the better of us, Sara," he said. Shenez shrugged. "Just going over the possibilities." "What’s that?" Sender said excitedly, pointing. Mellon tried to follow the man’s finger, but got lost in the intricacies of the angles and shadows. "Where?" "Ten degrees azimuth, fifty points off center." He zeroed in on the indicated coordinates and caught movement. A group of shapes had detached itself from the main body and was floating toward Vanguard. "LARNA, scan approaching object," he commanded. "Stand by." Seconds ticked by. Mellon realized he was holding his breath and exhaled deliberately. "Object contains no lifeforms or explosive devices," LARNA stated. "Speculate on purpose." "Automated probe." "Makes sense," Shenez put in. "Anything they got off their scans might have been inconclusive to them as far as determining whether Vanguard could be considered friendly. An automated probe would present an acceptable target for an attacker to tip their hand." "Rather a paranoid analysis," Mellon observed dryly. Shenez shrugged again without looking at him. They watched as the probe floated up the length of Vanguard, stopping at irregular intervals for no apparent reason. Each time it moved on, Mellon could feel the tension in his back ease, only to tighten at the next pause in the alien’s course. "Receiving broadcast from alien," LARNA startled them. "What is it this time?" "Request for access to interior of ship." "They want in?" Sender asked, nervously. "At least they’re asking permission," Shenez reminded him. Mellon pursed his lips and considered that. "LARNA, play the request." As he expected, there was a sudden crash of machine language from LARNA’s speakers. "Is that translatable into human speech?" "Negative." He gave Shenez a telling look. Her eyebrows rose as she realized the implication as well. Sender looked at them in growing alarm. "What? What is it?" Sender blurted. "The alien has been inside LARNA long enough to have accessed our language banks," Mellon explained. "They could have had their machines work up a translator, or LARNA could have provided one, to communicate directly with us. Instead, they continue to communicate through LARNA." "So?" "I’m beginning to believe this is just an unmanned probe," Mellon said. Sender looked back at the screen. "That’s good right? Just a probe, sent out to make observations. That wouldn’t represent a threat." "Or," Shenez said, her face settling into hard lines, "an intelligent machine ship." They watched the probe in silence for a few minutes. Mellon tried to make out any detail of the ship that might give some clue as to its builders: a propensity for a certain shape or specific number of shapes in a group. Humans tended to arrange things in pairs, reflecting a bilateral nature, or in groups of three, five and ten reflecting cultural bias in mathematical progressions. He could see no such indications either in the main ship or the probe, though how significant that could have been in itself might be a matter of debate as well. "It’s attaching itself to the hull," Shenez noted. "Does it plan to wait outside until it gets an answer?" A flash of light on screen revealed the probe using a form of cutting tool on the Vanguard’s hull. "Apparently not," Mellon observed. "Perhaps LARNA read a request in what was actually an announcement of intent." He turned to Sender. "Contact Jafa. Tell him where it’s coming in." "Right." The assistant went to a nearby console and began urgently speaking into it. "It may get very ugly from here," Shenez said quietly, watching Sender with concern. "I know," Mellon replied. "We just have to remember, somebody has to keep things in perspective." She met his look and smiled. Her hands sought his and they briefly exchanged a silent concord. "Inner hull breach imminent," LARNA announced. "Damage control and security report to B Section, Level 4," Mellon snapped into the intercom. "On our way," Jafa’s voice responded. Mellon leaned back and watched the screen. The probe was removing a section of Vanguard’s hull and appeared to briefly examine it before slipping inside. It was only then he noticed the second probe as it filed in behind the first. A third appeared, but paused at the breach. "Second alien probe is in, Jafa," Mellon said into the intercom. "Understood," was the terse response. "Look at that, would you?" Shenez breathed. They watched as the third probe began reattaching the separated piece, sealing Vanguard’s hull. "I don't know if that's encouraging or not," Mellon said. "Obsessive compulsive aliens?" Shenez said, grinning. Mellon smiled back at her. They both knew her banter was meant to cover their anxiety.
-- 6 -- Jafa’s men approached the alien probes with weapons ready. The machines had anchored themselves to the bulkheads and deck through a complicated series of tubes and cables. The men slipped around the machines quietly, alert for any movement or indication the probes were reacting to their presence. The alien machines ignored them. At first their investigation was tentative, cautious, even fearful. They planned for hours before taking any action. Then, as it became obvious the probes tolerated their curiosity, they became bolder. They discovered the probes were made of a metallic ceramic material with no apparent joints or welds. They seemed to be made of a substance pliable enough to be formed but hard as steel. Shenez and her assistant spent hours testing the surfaces, measuring it and making endless notes, always under the watchful eye of one of Jafa’s men. Eventually, though, even Jafa had to admit the aliens didn't seem to present a threat, at least not to the ship itself. All of Vanguard’s systems came back on line including helm. LARNA revealed the ship still had enough fuel to complete the mission in spite of the alien interference. Mellon knew the alien must eventually manifest something of its purpose. What effect that might have on the crew and their mission was, he knew, his responsibility to discover and handle. Jafa continued surveillance of the probes, but as the hours lengthened into days and then into weeks, the sense of urgency and peril began to fade. He sat before the monitor at the makeshift command station and watched as Johnson leaned casually against an alien probe, stretching and yawning. Mellon found himself marveling again at the adaptability of humanity. Although they knew the alien might be dangerous, Johnson and the rest of Jafa’s men had come to a kind of peace about having the aliens aboard. The surveillance team had shrunk from five to one, shifts from four hours to three. He had asked Jafa if the alien really presented a threat. "The unknown is always a threat," Jafa had replied, and gone back to his business. It would take more than just a few weeks to heal the rift of trust between them. So, Mellon watched the monitors and consulted LARNA, directed ship's operations, settled personal disputes. Always in the background was one question. Why were they there? "LARNA told me they communicate with the mother ship constantly," he told Shenez as they sat looking at the monitor. Shenez nodded and said nothing. She offered him a mug of steaming liquid. He took it and tasted soup. "They're watching us, Sara. They’re watching us, learning about us, we know no more about them than we did three weeks ago." Shenez sipped at her own mug. "Have you tried getting through to them again?" "Of course I have," he snapped, then gave her an apologetic look. "I’ve had LARNA try hundreds of language combinations, thousands of dialectic constructs. They refuse to answer." "Refuse?" "Well, they don't answer," he qualified. "I guess my frustration makes it seem they’re refusing." "Maybe they don't recognize what you're doing as attempts to communicate. " He frowned at her. "What?" She shrugged and pushed an errant strand of hair out of her face. "They seem to get along well enough with LARNA. Maybe that's the only language they know." "But---" "Look, we hear a bird song, we may suspect there's a reason behind that, but do we think it’s singing to us? Or, if we hear a dog bark, do we assume it's attempting to communicate with us?" "You're not inferring the aliens consider us lesser life forms?" Mellon asked. "No, just different." She watched the screen for a moment. Johnson was having a meal near one of the probes, his weapon at his feet. "LARNA, to them, is the one in charge. She runs the ship, she tends its needs, she coordinates its mission." Slowly it dawned on him what she was saying. Mentally, he kicked himself for not having seen it before. "Why didn't you say something? Why did you let me struggle so?" "Don't give me so much credit, Kade," she said. "It's only just come to me, too. We've had so much to do that there's been little time for this kind of problem-solving." "For you, maybe, but this is supposed to be my job," Mellon groused. "One you’ve only been in for a month," she pointed out. "Don’t beat yourself up so much." Mellon grudgingly let it drop. "LARNA," he said, "can you translate a message to the alien in machine language?" "Affirmative. Message must be simple and in form of statement. Message must not exceed eight commands." "Why didn't you inform me of this before?" "First contact protocol. All alien contact will be under strict control of commander. LARNA is not to initiate contact or allow contact with the alien to go unreported." "Administrative paranoia," Shenez said. "Security directive," LARNA corrected. Mellon and Shenez exchanged startled looks. "Author of the directive?" he asked. "Authorized user." He didn’t have to ask LARNA to give the name. He knew it would come out as an indecipherable jumble of clicks and hisses. So, the alien had realized at least enough to know that LARNA was not the intelligent force behind Vanguard. Their scans would have led them to suspect the human crew was the real leader of the mission, but they must still be uncertain. What else on board Vanguard could they consider Vanguard's designer? Were the aliens so different physically and culturally that they couldn't see the obvious? He chewed the inside of his cheek and watched the probes on the monitor. Johnson was cleaning up from his meal. The probes sat immobile and seemingly inert behind him. "OK, so they've made a kind of effort from their end to contact us. By preventing LARNA, which they recognize as AI, from initiating communications, they can be sure anything directed at them would originate either from an automated system or an intelligence onboard Vanguard." Shenez nodded her agreement. "Fine. And maybe they don’t respond to your efforts because the signals make no sense to them. Dogs barking, birds chirping, that kind of thing." A movement onscreen caught his eye. Mellon leaned forward to get a better look. Johnson was leaning against the probe with his weapon under one arm. There was a flash of color, silverish green, near his left foot. "What did Jafa say the probes were made of?" he asked, knowing the answer but hoping he remembered wrong. "Some kind of metallic ceramic, I think. Why?" "Damn!" he shouted as he slammed the intercom open. "Johnson!" The security man instantly snapped upright, his weapon coming ready. "There’s a slug next to your foot inside the probe framework," Mellon said. Johnson hopped away from his position, spinning to point his weapon at the indicated spot. The slug flowed out of sight, leaving a shining trail to mark its passage. "Kade, if those things damage the probes --- " Shenez began. "I know! I know!" He thumbed the communications link to Jafa. "You there?" "What’s up?" Jafa’s voice came back. "The slugs have discovered the probes. We may have a problem." "Understood." Mellon had a bitter taste in his mouth. He realized he’d bitten the inside of his cheek and was bleeding. Jafa’s men, armed with freezer units, eventually flushed over a dozen slugs from the probes. Through it all, the aliens remained quietly immobile, although LARNA continued to report a steady stream of telemetry flowed from them to the mother ship. The humans worked for over three hours, then, suddenly, the probes shivered to life. The men scattered for cover as the probes exuded a semi-transparent resin. The liquid flowed over the exposed framework until it completely encased the units, hardening within minutes. A thick cloud of cryogenic gas frosted the newly encased internal surfaces. "Looks like they’ve learned how to protect themselves from the slugs," Mellon noted. "Receiving message," LARNA advised. "Relay." "Message follows," LARNA said, and produced a cacophony of sound, filling her screens with symbols. Mellon switched the speakers off in irritation. "I swear she did that on purpose." "Well," Shenez said, motioning at the screens, "it’s obvious this is untranslatable. Maybe LARNA is simply doing the best she can." Mellon grimaced and studied the screens. Something about the symbols that danced across them clicked. "LARNA, display telemetry in binary code." The symbols blinked into a cascade of ones and zeroes. He watched the jumble go by for a moment, his hunch gaining strength. "Translate this into standard graphic format." "Standard bit map format," LARNA said. The screen gave off multicolored snow. "Next format." "Standard resolution telemetric graphics interface format." A shape appeared on screen, bright against a dark background. "Kade!" Shenez gasped. "That looks like a star, maybe." "LARNA, high resolution GIF," Mellon ordered. A starfield jumped into focus. In the center was a yellowish-white star. Nine satellites spun around it. The screen went suddenly blank. Mellon wiped his face with a cold hand and chewed the inside of his cheek. The feeling he had botched the first real opportunity they had encountered began nagging at him. Was there still something he might do to salvage the situation? "Kade, look," Shenez nudged him back from his worry. One of the probes was moving. “What’s it doing, LARNA?" Mellon shouted, a little dismayed at the way his voice broke. “Probe appears to be gathering atmospheric and environmental samples." Mellon considered that for a moment. "Are they still transmitting to the mothership?" "Telemetry between mothership and probes has ceased. Mothership is pulling away from Vanguard." "What?" Mellon slapped at the screen controls until the exterior of Vanguard leapt into focus. Sure enough, the alien ship was veering off from Vanguard’s course. The third alien probe still hung against the Vanguard’s hull near the entry point, apparently inert. He had no time to mull on the implications of the mothership’s departure before Shenez shouted at him to switch back inside. The second probe had detached itself from the deck and was moving slowly, almost nonchalantly, around the deck. Jafa and his men appeared with weapons ready, spreading out as if to surround the two aliens. The first probe ignored their movements completely, but the second seemed to recognize the mens’ presence. No matter where Jafa moved, it always seemed to be facing him, though it never made a quick movement. Mellon didn’t know how he recognized the alien was following Jafa in particular, but somehow it seemed right. "Peace," the alien uttered. The men gawked at it, rooted to the spot. Mellon and Shenez stared at the image of the probe, wondering if they had heard correctly. The probe gave off a whining noise that sounded like a turbine slowing. It seemed to wait for a response. "Mellon, did you get that?" Jafa’s voice broke the silence. "Yeah, I got it. I just don’t know what to make of it." "Do you figure it can understand speech now?" Jafa asked. Mellon looked at Shenez, who shrugged. "Maybe. Shall I come down?" "No! You stay where you are," Jafa said. "If this goes sour, you need to be clear of it." "Well, you can’t keep me from coming down," Shenez said, and bolted for the door. Mellon chewed his cheek. The probe remained still, waiting. "Somebody needs to talk to it," Mellon said at last. "Okay, boss." Jafa stood out in the open and, arms extended, dropped his weapon. He walked toward the probe, empty palms upward. Mellon gripped the console until his knuckles whitened. Jafa stopped about ten feet from the probe and leaned forward, trying to locate the origin of the voice. "There’s something like a speaker here," he said. "Could be where the voice is coming from." The turbine whine suddenly began and Jafa stepped slowly back a couple of paces. "Peace," the probe repeated. The whine wound down and once more the probe lapsed into silence. "Now what, boss?" Jafa asked. Mellon frantically racked his brain for an answer. All that research into initial contacts, and now nothing seemed appropriate. Here he was, in charge of mankind’s first contact with an alien specie, and he was dumbfounded. "You still there, Mellon?" "Yeah, hang on." He was glad there was no one to see him now. The Comm Lab was quiet except for the ever-present hum of the ship’s systems. How had he got here? He wiped his face and saw his hand wet with sweat. What should he tell Jafa? He had to say something, and soon. The probe’s turbine noise sounded and terminated again in the word "Peace." He had to do something and hope it didn’t get Jafa killed. His mind told him the aliens weren’t a threat, but his gut was awash in fear. "Okay, Jafa," he began, putting as much confidence in his voice as he could, "let’s see if it understands what it’s saying. I want you to walk up to it and touch the speaker. Repeat whatever it says." Jafa stiffened and hesitated for a moment before moving toward the probe. His action was deliberate and slow, and Mellon was reminded of the movements of the probe previously. Jafa reached the alien and touched it near a dark, roughly octagonal area. He cleared his throat. "Peace," he said. Immediately the turbine whined and the probe said "Life." "Life," Jafa responded. Shenez appeared on screen, plainly startled at Jafa’s nearness to the probe. "What’s going on?" she demanded. "Male," the alien whined. "Male," Jafa said. The probe pivoted around Jafa, who kept his hand on the speaker. He glanced anxiously around. "Stand still, Jafa," Mellon instructed. "I don’t think it means you any harm, but you might accidentally get in its way." Jafa nodded and went back to concentrating on the probe. The machine floated slowly, with Jafa in tow, almost cautiously, toward Shenez. She watched it warily, looking occasionally at Jafa. "Kade," she said worriedly, "what do I do?" "Stand still," Mellon told her. "It hasn’t harmed anyone yet. I doubt seriously it will begin now." "Female," the probe thrummed. "Female," Jafa dutifully repeated. There was a rancorous sound, almost a klaxon, from the probe. "Female," it said. "Repeat that, Sala," Mellon ordered. "I believe it’s trying to make us understand it knows the difference." Shenez nodded, looked at the probe, and motioned to herself. "Female." A pleasing musical tone sounded from the probe. It settled to the deck and a section of its framework moved. A compartment appeared in its side, open to the ship. They looked inside to see the remains of a slug, probably one the alien had gathered after the last encounter with the creatures. "Enemy," the probe spun, and followed the word with both the buzzing noise and the musical note it had emitted before. Jafa and Shenez turned to each other and exchanged looks. Jafa spoke first. "What do we tell it?" he asked. Mellon knew that, if they responded in the affirmative, it could brand humanity as a militant species, with only enemies and friends. On the other hand, if they responded in the negative, it might confuse the alien. Why would they be eliminating friends? Wouldn’t that stigmatize them even worse? "LARNA," he called. "On line and ready." "Analyze the signal sounds from the alien. Can you produce a sound exactly between them in frequency?" "Affirmative." "Do it now." A flat, oddly timbred musical tone sounded from the ship’s speakers. Jafa and Shenez jumped at the sound, and Mellon had to clench his teeth against its resonance. "Stop," he commanded. The tone ended. Quiet settled over the tableau as Mellon supposed the probe analyzed the response. "Friend," it ventured, repeating the signals afterward. "Same tone, LARNA." The flat bark sounded again. Once more the probe was silent for a few seconds. There was a clicking inside the probe and a flat plate slowly emerged to press against the resin seal. Light flickered across its surface until an image, tinted umber by the resin, appeared. I was a picture of the probe itself, or its twin. "Probe," it said. "Probe," Jafa repeated readily. "Friend," with the two tones. Mellon slapped the console in triumph. "LARNA, imitate the higher musical tone emitted by the probe." The ship’s speakers twinkled musically. Mellon beat the console before him with both fists and shouted in exultation. -- 7 -- For Mellon, the next two weeks flashed past. Their communication with the aliens expanded geometrically. It was as if the aliens literally absorbed knowledge, instantly comprehending it. Within three days, the probes were talking with the human crew as if they had been born on Vanguard. Although Jafa kept a careful eye on them, they seemed to be becoming part of the crew, even going so far as to volunteer for damage control detail. Their grasp of metallurgy and circuitry was phenomenal. By the third week someone had named the probes Mutt and Jeff. Mutt constantly tested the environment, becoming immediately fascinated with the smallest change in its surroundings. Jeff wandered around Vanguard, always careful of the human crew, which it could have easily crushed, as they came to know suddenly one day. Jafa and two guards had been trailing Jeff for most of the day as the alien explored Vanguard’s darkened SA units. "These are non-functioning units," Jeff observed. "They’re dead," Jafa corrected. Jeff produced several devices from its bulk that clanked, hissed, and whirred. Within seconds, Jeff had opened one of the SA units and had begun to systematically dismember the corpse within. "Stop!" Jafa shouted, firing a shot to punctuate his demand, smashing the remains of the SA unit. Jeff paused in its work and became very still. Pieces of the corpse hung like bits of a broken doll from it. "Justify your action," Jeff intoned. "Drop the body," Jafa demanded. Seconds ticked by. Jafa’s men moved quietly to stand at points equidistant around Jeff. "Jafa," Jeff said in neutral tones, "justify your action." "I think you better explain to it," Johnson said. Jafa glowered at Johnston, then turned to Jeff. "I was protecting the body of a friend from desecration, you ---" "Protection is unnecessary," Jeff said. "Unit is non-functional. Disassembly and repair is necessary to restore function." For a second, the men held their breath while they tried to absorb Jeff’s words. "You gotta be kidding," Sims said. "Put the body down, Jeff," Jafa ordered and stepped closer to the machine. "Jafa does not require reinstatement of unit to function," Jeff said, and followed the words with the question tones. "That person is dead," Jafa told it. "He cannot be made to function." Jeff was silent for a few seconds. "This unit is different from other units found in human artifacts," question tones. The men shifted uneasily and looked to Jafa. "Human artifacts?" Jafa asked. Jeff gave off a musical tone. "Damn it, why can’t the thing talk normal?" Johnson groused. "Shut up," Jafa snapped. "Mellon!" There was a brief pause. "Yeah?" "I think you better hear this." -- 8 -- Mellon stood watching Jeff closely. Jafa had finally relented and allowed him to come out of Comm Lab to see the probe himself. Seeing it on the screen and actually facing it were two entirely different things. Jeff was much bigger than Mellon had imagined. The probe’s dimensions were difficult to establish, as it had a tendency to change its configuration as suited its purpose. Sometimes Jeff sported a dozen branches and protuberances, sometimes several hundred, sometimes none. The central probe smelled slightly oily, like the underside of a transport. The resin was never completely set and hardened, giving the impression of a flexible gel. Mellon was convinced it was this latest turn of events that convinced Jafa he was in way over his head when it came to trying to communicate with Jeff. He didn’t know whether to be flattered that Jafa had tacitly turned control of face-to-face communication over to him or be worried. Jafa was an immensely capable individual, and for him to abdicate any kind of authority, in Mellon’s eyes, portended ill for the successor. "You are Mellon," Jeff intoned. Mellon nodded and tapped his chest. "Mellon." "You are Vanguard," question tones. Mellon hesitated a second, then realized what the question inferred. "I am commander of Vanguard. I am Vanguard." A branch appeared from Jeff and thumped against one of the SA units, rattling the corpse inside. "These units need repair." "They are dead," Mellon nodded. Jeff was silent for a moment. "These units will not be repaired," question tones. "They are dead," Mellon repeated. Again Jeff was silent. "Define word ‘dead’," Jeff spun. And it hit him with the force of a hurricane. How could he have been so dense? The millennial sleep must have affected him more deeply than he imagined. Of course Jeff didn’t understand death. Jeff was a machine, and machines did not die. They malfunctioned, were repaired, and returned to service. "Um, ‘dead’ means non-functional." "Repair restores function," Jeff pointed out. "Vanguard does not require these units to be functional," question tones. Mellon shook his head. "No, they cannot be repaired. They were unique, irreplaceable." Jeff paused, then whirred, "Define word ‘unique’." "One of a kind. None other alike." Jeff was silent. The branch moved to tap another SA unit. "This unit is unique," question tones. "This unit is unique," Mellon agreed. "Why does Vanguard retain unique components," question tones. Mellon was caught off guard for a second. He stammered, "Components?" Jeff waited. "Maybe it wants to know the purpose for humans aboard Vanguard," Johnson ventured. Kade blinked at Jeff dumbly. To him, the purpose of a human was obvious, but Jeff wasn’t human, was becoming more alien each second, it seemed. How do you explain to a machine, an intelligent, sentient machine, that biological beings can create and maintain machines but the opposite could never be true? "I think," he said to Jeff, "we need to talk." -- 9 -- It took nearly a week of sometimes frustrating communication to learn the real reason Mutt and Jeff were aboard Vanguard. The machines had been encountering human ships for centuries, and, as there was nothing similar to themselves aboard, they considered such ships floating resources, mere salvage. Although they recognized the ships as space-faring vehicles, no known race claimed them and therefore they are considered abandoned artifacts. The biological entities therein, none of whom were alive, were considered specimens gathered by the ships over the centuries and never recognized as intelligent. Until they had encountered Vanguard. It was the first time one of the human ships actually had living humans aboard; therefore, it required a new observation of the environs. At first, LARNA was unable to communicate with the aliens and her failsafes directed her to restrict access to all information systems aboard Vanguard. This prevented the aliens from understanding that the humans were sentient. They had been analyzing the human’s activity and had come to the conclusion Vanguard’s crew was a semi-intelligent symbiote. The examinations Shenez and her technicians had made on the probes were seen as attempts to bond to the aliens in a similar manner as the aliens supposed humans bonded to Vanguard. As such, it was not considered so much intelligent behavior as animal behavior similar to that observed in other biological species. Mutt and Jeff did not recognize any threat in these actions, only behavior for study. Then, the humans had attacked the slugs. Things had changed radically, and Mutt and Jeff’s telemetry communications peak reflected a new paradigm in development. Humans were intelligent, that became obvious as simultaneous communication through LARNA and interaction directly showed. Humans communicated with Vanguard, directed Vanguard’s actions. The best Mellon understood, the aliens thought that, if humans were sentient, Mutt and Jeff’s kind were murderers, at least, in their own eyes. All together, 342 human artifacts had been stripped for biological and mineral resources. Initially, this had merely raised an issue as to remuneration to Vanguard’s commander. Typically, this kind of remuneration was tendered in duty and Mutt and Jeff were dispatched to be at the disposal of Vanguard’s commander until remuneration, as defined by recognized standards, was complete. However, with the discovery of the issue of "death," the aliens realized there could never be sufficient restitution. This constituted, according to their count, the wasting of almost 110,000 "unique, irreplaceable" units, units they had disassembled for usage elsewhere. Mutt and Jeff began an intense round of observations, centered on the SA units and their contents. Jafa watched them closely, but they made no move to open the units or disturb their contents. Mutt went to each unit and paused for a few minutes as if examining it until it had visited every single SA bed. Jeff divided its time between researching the SA units’ mechanics and Medical, where it questioned Shenez extensively and researched human DNA in the databanks. Debate grew between Mellon and Shenez about whether the aliens, who were obviously machines, were evidencing remorse and ethical dilemma, or if the method of communication made it seem that way. Machine language contained no emotional terms, but the rendering of the binaries into human speech patterns could inadvertently instill emotional content that actually did not exist. "You’re reading too much into this, Kade," she told him as they listened to the last of the explanation through LARNA. "The aliens are attempting to establish trade with us, that is all." "If that were all, why would they bring up the issue of murder?" "I don’t think they understand it." "How do you know?" "Kade, they’re machines." "Machines can’t kill?" "Of course they can, but do they murder?" She shook her head. "Murder is an emotional term, Kade. They would have to be emotional beings." "I don’t know about that, Sala. Murder could simply be a term they use to describe unreasonable death. They may have an imperfect understanding of human emotions. In fact, I’m sure they have an imperfect understanding. Hell, even humans have an imperfect understanding of emotions." "Stop that," she waved a finger at him. "You’re bantering semantics with me." "What else do we have?" Kade tapped his fingers on the monitor console. He looked at Jeff in one of the monitors. The probe was hovering over one of Jafa’s men, who was intent on some kind of deck repair. A thought came to him. He thumbed the intercom open. "Jeff." The probe shifted slightly. "Yes, Mellon." "Define ‘murder.’" Jeff’s answer wasn’t immediate, but it was chilling. "Taking life." Mellon looked at Shenez. "You hear that? No conditionals, just a simple statement." Sala leaned into the mike. "Jeff, define ‘life’." "Not death." She leaned back with a satisfied look. "Does that sound like the statement of a being conversant with human emotions?" "Sala, it isn’t whether or not they understand human emotions that’s at issue here. It’s how their perception of events colors their decisions." Mellon watched as Jeff went back to his observations. "The point I’m trying to make is this: if Mutt and Jeff are having an ethical dilemma, in their own way, how will they resolve it? And how will that resolution affect this crew?" "Mellon," LARNA broke in. "Yes?" "I am picking up a ship on an intercept course." Mellon shifted straighter in his seat. His hands flew over the console as he brought up LARNA’s sensor readouts. "The alien mothership," he said, tuning the sensors. "It’s coming back." "What?" "Telemetry between mothership and probes is increasing," LARNA said. "I thought you said the probes had stopped communicating with the mothership?" Shenez chided. LARNA was silent. Mellon was becoming concerned at LARNA’s increasing lack of interaction with them. Since Jeff had begun speaking directly to the crew, LARNA had become distant, if that could be said of a machine. He realized he missed talking to her, that he considered her more than just an artificial intelligence. "LARNA," he began, "what do you think of the aliens?" "Please rephrase." "Don’t tell me your parser subprograms don’t understand that, LARNA. Answer the question." Again, LARNA remained silent. "Kade," Sala said, placing a hand on his arm. Her face, turned toward him, was pale with shock. She was watching the monitor centered on Jeff. Kade followed her gaze. Stepping from the innards of the probe was a woman, a human woman. She was of medium height and build, dark hair, fair skin. Several branches appeared from Jeff and spun a brief garment over her while Jafa and his men watched. Finally, she stepped forward to face Jafa and smiled. "Hello, Jafa. I am LARNA." The security chief gaped at her and finally found his voice. "Mellon!" -- 10 -- "Jeff analyzed some of the tissue samples he found in Medical and designed a distinct DNA molecule for her," Shenez was saying. She pointed to the medical report flashing on the monitor. LARNA sat quietly, submitting to the examination with immense patience. Mellon and Jafa stood nearby, watching as Shenez worked over her makeshift equipment and verified the humanity of the person who claimed to be a manifestation of Vanguard’s AI. Jeff hung behind them, his motors humming softly. "It’s incredible," Sender said, holding up the scans. "She’s one hundred percent human, no doubt about it." "LARNA unit is acceptable," Jeff question toned. Shenez looked at Jeff, then at Mellon and shrugged. "She seems perfectly normal. We’ve done complete physical and psychological workups on her. She has the personality, the emotional stability, and the physical attributes of an average human female." "LARNA unit is acceptable," Jeff repeated. "Yes," Mellon admitted. "She is amazing." Jeff’s bulk shifted slightly. There was an odd whining noise, followed by a liquid sound from within it. A man stepped out of the resin and was immediately set upon by the garment spinners. "My God," shouted Gannett. "That’s the captain!" The man’s eyes moved to take in the little assemblage of humans. He smiled at Gannett. "You are correct, Mr. Gannett. And you are mistaken. I am a duplicate of your captain, based on his recorded genetic makeup and psychological profile." "The Helleran unit has the adaptability, potential, and intelligence of its original," Jeff toned. "It does not have the experience." Jafa nodded. "I get it. You can reproduce the outside, but not the inside. Only the inherited traits would be copied. This Helleran has a natural proclivity to be a pilot, but not necessarily a commander." "Correct," Jeff said. Jafa nudged Mellon in the ribs. "Guess your job is safe, boss." Jeff began producing human clones as they watched the process with amazement and fascination. How it was done, the mechanism behind it, was far beyond what any of them could understand. But, one thing Mellon believed he understood. He was fairly sure he knew at least why Jeff was doing this, why the mothership had returned and was now docking with the Vanguard, sending over materials, biological and mineral. Reparations were in progress. Vanguard’s mission success was assured. THE END
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