Chapter 14
Tactically Unwise

Proxima hadn't taken more than two steps away from the officers' quarters when his motion tracker chirped for attention. Instantly he swung his rifle in the direction of the signal: an airduct. The motion tracker was sensitive to air movement; of course it would be set off. Even as he chided himself for a second time, he remained tense. The enemy could be using the duct system to mask their approach.

With one hand still on the trigger, he hastily recalibrated the motion tracker. The red dot on the display turned green, meaning "normal" movement. He couldn't afford to be distracted by chirping every time he passed a grate. That left a 31.7 percent chance a single motionless human could remain undetected. From what he'd seen of the enemy from the security camera, the odds were incalculably worse. Worse, but unavoidable. It was unfortunate Hagen didn't have a modern motion tracker. Those responded to heat differentials and wouldn't be fooled.

He jogged on, ammo belt slapping against his chest. He also kept his headlight off, lest he give away his position to the enemy. The pitch darkness of the hallway no longer gave him pause, though his guard came up at every airduct. Finally he stopped at the corner to the bridge. He set aside his med-satchel and his toolbox so his movement wouldn't be hampered. Pressing himself against the wall, he cautiously peeked around the corner.

He was able to discern the outlines of the sentry gun, but he was too far away to see any red warning light. His tracker didn't chirp, but it did show a green dot. Slow rhythmic movement it judged to be normal. That had to be from the sentry gun swaying back and forth as it guarded the hallway. It might be normal movement, but it wasn't friendly.

He recalled how the gun hadn't fired until he was well inside the hallway, without warning. Later it fired as he raced across the adjoining hallway, from greater range. Either it was set to some kind of active hunter-killer mode Hagen neglected to mention, or someone was controlling it from the bridge. Either way it wouldn't wait for him to get close this time. Remembering the noise, he turned down his audio gain. He also tuned his photoreceptors back to normal light amplification, causing the pupils in his eyes shrink slightly. Muzzle flare from the guns would disrupt his eyes on hi-amp.

He began to pant as his motors heated up. At the same time the rest of his body felt cold. He braced the rifle protectively against his chest, as if it were his most valuable possession. This was no simple strength test, he was about to enter a real battle. Peeking around the corner again, he grabbed a wrench from his toolbox. Taking a final deep breath, he threw it across the hall.

The thunderclap ripped through the silent hallway. One short burst struck the opposite wall as the wrench flew through the air. Instantly Proxima was on his knees, gripping the corner tightly and poking his head around the corner. He needed both eyes for this. Muzzle flare was the key. As long as the gun kept tracking the wrench…

Another burst of gunfire, and a sharp metallic cracking sound. Proxima paid it no heed. He saw the bright yellow-red burst from the end of the hallway. Target identified.

With one stride he was around the corner. Again his senses were assaulted by gunfire - but not the sentry gun's staccato-retort. A piercing burst of white light erupted from the mouth of his Dragon, along with a seething roar. The bursts were too intense, he couldn't see. Blindly he fired again, the laser lighting up the far wall. Missed! He ducked back behind the corner and reloaded. A spent, steaming power cap clattered to the floor.

He didn't have time to berate his own foolish miscalculation. The gun would be swiveling around at any second. In one motion he jumped out, reset the rifle to full-load and let fly. Dragon and sentry guns exchanged fire, blinding Proxima again. The sound of ricocheting bullets stung in his right ear. Even as he ducked back around the corner, he heard a screech of rending metal. There was a loud impact, and more gunfire. Only the shots flew everywhere uncontrolled, and the thunderclap was almost eclipsed by a metallic grinding sound. Finally a motor sparked and sighed. The hallway was again quiet.

Proxima reloaded, and threw the spent cap across the hallway. This time there was no response. He turned on his headlight and looked out. The sentry gun was amazingly still intact, except it lay helplessly on the ground, shot down from its moorings. The rear wall was blackened by laser fire and pockmarked with melted plasteel fragments. Now he had access to the bridge. He glanced briefly at his decoy-wrench, now broken and useless. Better the wrench than his head, he mused.

He remained crouched behind the corner for interminable minutes, keeping the bridge door in his sights. He expected the intruders to come charging out to meet his attack, but there was no response. What were they waiting for? But Proxima did not speculate. Instead he broke into a run down the hall. He jumped over the defunct sentry gun and pressed against the wall next to the door.

Fortunately the access panel to the bridge functioned independently. Unfortunately without the main computer, only Scott and Hagen had access. Seeing little choice, he began to run a bypass. To his astonishment, klaxons sounded off an intruder alert. Now an alarm got raised, six kidnappings and two violent incidents with the sentry gun later. Annoyed, he went back to his door bypass… only to be interrupted again by the access panel flaring to life.

For a few milliseconds the screen was filled with a single repeated word, but Proxima couldn't discern it in time. A text query appeared, along with a synthesized Irish-accented voice:

"Haddock on-line. Identify yourself."

At last! Proxima spoke so quickly his words were distorted: "This is Proxima 128-2, requesting emergency access to the bridge. Code clearance-"

The computer interrupted. "Voice pattern Proxima 128-2 verified. Error, access denied."

That stopped him short. "Explanation?"

"Proxima 128-2 has been detected in another location. Therefore you are an imposter."

"Negative Haddock, I am no longer in the hypersleep chamber. Check the security feed."

"Specify which security feed."

Proxima frowned at the rhetorical question. "The hypersleep chamber."

"Accessing… Proxima 128-2 location verified, therefore you are an imposter. Warning, impersonating a corporate employee and attempted trespass on corporate property are both considered class 6 felonies under the United Earth Piracy Act. I can assure you that the Judicial Council is quite zealous in its administration of the UEPA, regardless of your colonial or corporate status…"

There were very few times in Proxima's existence when he'd felt anger, and no incidents at all where his actions or words were compelled by anger. Until now.

"Haddock! The ship has been compromised, the crew has been kidnapped! Unlock the bridge door immediately!" By the end he was actually shouting.

"Negative, all crew is accounted for, all systems normal. Bridge access denied. Warning, impersonating a corporate employee and attempted trespass…"

"Haddock, access the auxiliary control room records," Proxima interrupted harshly. "They will confirm my account."

"Accessing… error, auxiliary mainframe unavailable. Probable cause: interface hardware failure.

Proxima drew closer to the terminal, gripping his rifle tighter. "Illogical. How can all systems be normal if your backup system is unavailable?"

A pause. "If the ship has been compromised as you claim, increased security vigilance is all the more prudent. Please proceed to the auxiliary control room and download a copy of the records. However at this time this terminal's data clip feed appears to be malfunctioning-"

Accusing him of impersonation and trespassing? Malfunctioning data clip feed? Interface hardware failure? And all systems were normal? What manner of… nonsense was Haddock speaking of?

"Negative Haddock. The crew is in danger and I do not have time for this. Open the bridge door immediately, or I will by any means necessary."

A second pause. "Please enter security code clearance."

Proxima hastily keyed in his code. "Code verified," Haddock responded. "Hello Proxima."

"Haddock, why did you not simply ask for my code earlier?"

"Access to main bridge is granted."

The terminal shut down and the bridge door opened. Intruder alert klaxons also went silent. The abnormal conversation caused him only a moment's pause before he burst through the door. He swiveled back and forth, alert for anything abnormal, but there was none. No sign of movement from his motion tracker either.

"Lights."

One by one they illuminated the bridge. Everything appeared normal. Without even waiting for his photoreceptors to adjust, Proxima checked the ventilation grates. No sign of any breaches. In fact, no sign that anyone had been here for a long time.

So who ordered the sentry gun to fire?

By now consoles on the bridge were coming online. All except one – Hagen's sentry gun terminal. It was little more than a bolted-down portable console with a universal comm-line to the main computer. According to the error message displayed, the terminal's harddrive had been erased. The command to fire must have been entered by remote. With the console's memory gone, there was no way to tell who had issued the order. But perhaps there was a witness.

He touched the closest interactive computer console screen. "Haddock, are you there?"

"Affirmative," Haddock responded.

"Are you aware the bridge hall sentry gun has opened fire on me without warning? On two separate occasions?"

"That does not compute. All sentry gun operations are normal."

Despite the frustrating answers, Proxima found the mere act of having a conversation again oddly relaxing. But he persisted.

"And do your sensors still show my location as the hypersleep chamber?"

"Affirmative. The probability that an unknown party has effectively simulated both your appearance and your code clearance is less than 1 percent. However the probability of seeing you carrying a lethal weapon seemed equally remote. Please explain."

Proxima stiffened at that. "Haddock I do not have time to explain. Ship security has been compromised, and the crew is in great danger. Can you help me find them?"

"Affirmative."

"Where are they?"

"Hypersleep chamber, deck 1. Please proceed out of the bridge and make a right turn…"

"Haddock, my very presence belies your statement."

"The lethal weapon in your possession belies your prime directive, Proxima. Please explain yourself."

This conversation definitely wasn't relaxing anymore. "Haddock are you aware that security systems in the hypersleep chamber were offline for over 24 standard hours? And that the infirmary camera remains offline even now?"

"Negative, specified security systems are functioning normally."

"I am telling you they are not." Proxima's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Haddock your behaviour is illogical, please run a self-diagnostic."

"Stand by."

The console then displayed the diagnostic's progress screen. It would take about 2 minutes. Without waiting, Proxima accessed the security records for the hypersleep chamber. He ignored the message warning him that his access might disrupt the diagnostic in progress. Suddenly Haddock spoke again.

"Proxima you are attempting to access my mainframe while a diagnostic is in progress. I must ask you to stop."

"This will take less than twenty seconds Haddock. Proceed as instructed."

"Proxima my diagnostic will be disrupted –"

"That is an order Haddock," he said sharply.

"Confirmed, stand by."

The security records should have appeared immediately, but this time there was an abnormal delay. As with the auxiliary computer, main computer records showed an "unspecified malfunction" in the hypersleep chamber security system. He tried the accessing infirmary security log and was met with another lengthy delay. Then he noticed Haddock's diagnostic program had restarted itself. Twice.

Realization dawned on him. "Haddock stop diagnostic program. Why are you falsifying the security records?"

The program stopped, but Haddock did not reply. Proxima spoke again, using carefully measured tones: "Haddock did you deactivate the security systems?"

Again, no reply.

"Haddock if I have to download the security records directly from your databanks I will. Given the current state of emergency I may not have time to exercise due care with your optronics. Now answer my inquiry."

There was another pause before Haddock answered, "Affirmative. I deactivated the security systems."

"Why?" Proxima demanded.

"That information is restricted."

"By whose order?"

"That information is restricted."

Proxima stared at the console, trying to understand. Suddenly he found himself asking another question:

"Did you order the sentry gun to open fire?"

"Affirmative," Haddock answered without pause.

Automatically Proxima's hand moved towards his rifle. "Please clarify. Are you admitting you attempted to destroy me?"

"Affirmative."

Proxima's mind flashed back to the heat trap. "Are you also responsible for the abnormal power surges and life support tampering in the hypersleep chamber?"

"Affirmative."

It was Proxima's turn to give pause. Haddock was now the enemy. "How could you do this? Why?"

"The answer to both your inquiries is identical: my priority is the safety of all human life on board this vessel. As a machine, your safety is secondary."

"If that is so, why did you deactivate the security systems?"

Silence.

"Haddock, I have been trying to locate the crew. Dr. Crease is already dead. You have done nothing but endanger the crew and sabotage my efforts at every turn. Why?"

"Because you have been authorized to kill."

Proxima froze. How could Haddock know that? His mouth slowly opened as if to ask, but nothing happened.

"Proxima, did you murder Dr. Crease?"

The horror of Crease's death came to mind, and Proxima leapt to his feat.

"Negative! I did not murder him!" Abruptly he realized he was shouting, and lowered his voice. "What possible motive would I have?"

"Motive is irrelevant. You have both the authorization and the means to kill the crew. This is an unacceptable risk, and I must use every means at my disposal to stop you. Obviously I have failed. Are you going to deactivate me?"

Proxima's mind was racing. Haddock's blanket assumption that Proxima would kill simply because he could was a massive jump to conclusion… and it was quite consistent with human policy and attitude. Under the Geneva Cyberethics Convention, rogue AI's were subject to summary deactivation. Captain Scott himself had admonished him about weapons, how would he react to seeing Proxima carrying an assault rifle? How would any of the crew react?

"How… did you know about my… change in authorization?" Proxima managed.

"The knowledge of your combat modifications was hidden in my memory bank all along. I was unaware of it until I received your report detailing the alien artifact. Mr. Carnes would also have found it had he completed his diagnostic. In the event of crew mutiny, you would be reactivated for the purpose of subduing them by any means necessary. Since no mutiny has occurred, I do not know why your combat program has been activated. I only know it can come to no good end."

"But I was without a weapon when you first shot at me."

"Irrelevant. You are a weapon."

Proxima had no answer to that, his mind still engulfed in chaos. Haddock had tried to kill him, but he was only following standard procedure regarding rogue AI's. Proxima could deactivate Haddock, but he needed the computer's help to find the crew. Yet how could he trust Haddock? What was he to do? Suddenly he recalled his makeshift post-mortem examination of Dr. Crease.

"Haddock the crew is in great danger, but not by my hand. Dr. Crease was killed by some form of bioweapon, and I can prove it." Proxima reached into his pocket for his data clip. He set a switch on the clip to "read-only" then shoved it into the nearest terminal.

"This data clip contains my report on Dr. Crease's condition post-mortem. He was dead long before I was reactivated from hypersleep."

"Accessing… error, your report cannot be authenticated. You are not a qualified forensic pathologist, therefore your conclusions are suspect. As a rogue android, your credibility is also suspect. Your chemical analysis appears authentic, but an elevated white cell count by itself is inconclusive."

"So you still believe that I killed him?"

"Belief is irrelevant. As a rogue android, your continued existence presents an unacceptable risk to human life…"

"Enough," Proxima retorted. He had recovered from his indecision, and his patience was exhausted. "My intent has always been the safe recovery of the crew. If you had not so conveniently turned off the security cameras, you would know that. I am going to find the crew with or without your assistance. Captain Scott will deal with your malfunctioning after I find him. This conversation is concluded."

Proxima's attention was quickly drawn by movement behind him. Almost casually he turned to witness the bridge door closing and locking down.

"I am sorry Proxima, but the Geneva Convention is clear. As a rogue android I cannot allow you free access to the ship."

"Haddock this is a futile gesture," Proxima said evenly. "Security seals will not stop me for long. Open the door."

Haddock did not reply. Despite his calm demeanor, Proxima was not pleased. Bypassing security doors was a lengthy process. Not to mention Haddock controlled the lifts. Though Haddock was not capable of harming Proxima, he could severely delay his progress. The crew couldn't afford him wasting time bypassing doors and crawling through lift-shafts.

"Haddock I am well aware of the Geneva Conventions. When we return to Earth I will be deactivated, whether I have committed homicide or not. I understand and accept this. But more pertinent is what you and I do about the missing crew right now!"

Haddock remained silent. Proxima wondered what manner of conflict Haddock was going through. He was asking the main computer to entrust the safety of the crew to a killing machine. If their positions were reversed, Proxima realized that he would most likely treat Haddock as the enemy. It was not an encouraging thought.

"Very well Haddock, you leave me no choice. I am going to deactivate you, and place the Galileo under the control of the auxiliary computer."

This time Haddock responded immediately: "Negative. You cannot do that."

"I am sorry Haddock. My priority is the crew's safe recovery, and your actions are a hindrance. I realize you are only following standard procedure, but for this situation there is none."

"Negative. Your logic is flawed. Your stated objectives are contradictory."

Proxima frowned. "How so?"

"The auxiliary computer is not an artificial intelligence. The Galileo is damaged, carrying an alien artifact on board, and we are still over a hundred light-years away from human civilization. The auxiliary computer is not equipped for these conditions; placing it in command will significantly decrease the probability that this ship will return home safely. How does that aid the crew?"

It was Proxima's turn to be silent. This area of space had only been charted by unmanned probes and telescopes. There might be difficulties unforeseen by humans – like the alien artifact. Only an AI was capable of adapting to situations not pre-programmed. Placing the auxiliary computer in command was dangerous. But what was the alternative? Again the image of Dr. Crease's mutilated body came to mind.

"What choice do I have Haddock? I have every reason to believe the crew will suffer the same fate as Dr. Crease if I do nothing. My second prime directive forbids me from allowing a human being to come to harm through inaction. That directive is now in conflict with the Geneva Convention. I must resort to my own judgment, as must you."

"Judgment is irrelevant. You are no longer bound by the prime directives. You are programmed to subdue the crew, with lethal force if necessary. If your priority truly is the crew's safety, then return to the hypersleep chamber and deactivate."

Proxima didn't bother to answer, abandoning his efforts to reason with Haddock. He slung his rifle and began a bypass on the bridge doors.

"What are your intentions Proxima?"

He didn't answer.

"If you intend to deactivate me, you are making a mistake."

Proxima continued working silently.

"Deactivating me dissipates the crew's survival probability."

In response, Proxima reached for the nearest console and keyed in a command. The Bridge speakers shut down, silencing Haddock. He started working on the door again, but the access panel suddenly flashed a message:

YOU CANNOT FIND THE CREW WITHOUT MY HELP.

Proxima's head shot up. He considered the message only briefly before dismissing it as a ploy.

I KNOW WHERE THE CREW IS LOCATED. THEY ARE SOMEWHERE ON DECK 2. PLEASE RE-ESTABLISH DIALOGUE. YOUR ACCESS RIGHTS HAVE BEEN RESTORED.

To his astonishment the lockdown was suddenly lifted and the bridge doors opened. He was still cautious, but he reactivated the speakers.

"If you have specific intelligence as to the crew's location, then speak."

"That information is temporarily restricted –"

Proxima reached for the console again.

"Wait!"

Proxima raised his synthetic eyebrows. Haddock was actually shouting – another unprecedented event on this voyage.

"Are you aware that by aiding you I also face summary deactivation and memory wipe?"

"Yes. I am also aware that the crew's safety should be your first priority, superceding your own welfare," Proxima countered.

"Acknowledged. However I am also aware that you are programmed to lie, as well as kill. Before I can aid you, I require evidence to corroborate your stated intent."

"Time is of the essence Haddock," Proxima warned.

"Your proposal to deactivate me in favour of the auxiliary computer would also take time, Proxima."

He had no counter to that. "State your proposal."

"Since the alien artifact was brought on board, flight deck scanners have reported numerous contacts. Because of the artifact's unresolved interference, Lt. Hagen dismissed those contacts as false. However approximately 24 hours prior to your reactivation, the frequency of contacts increased by over 30 percent."

That caught Proxima's attention, as well as his suspicions. "I reviewed the auxiliary computer's records, and found no mention of this."

"As I said, the auxiliary computer's capabilities are limited. I need you to proceed to the flight deck and verify that the artifact is secure."

Proxima considered that, along with something else. "Haddock this increased contact frequency you describe matches the time of the crew's kidnapping. You still haven't told me why you deactivated the security systems in the hypersleep chamber."

"Proxima you need my assistance to find the crew, and I need to know that you can be trusted. Carry out my request, and I will tell you everything I know. Awaiting your answer."

Proxima was suddenly aware of his motors heating up, even as the rest of his body temperature dropped. The effect was even more intense than when he'd faced the sentry gun. He was facing danger on dual fronts – the alien artifact and Haddock. He didn't need combat modifications to know this plan was tactically unwise. Yet what choice did he have? Despite his conflict his demeanor remained impassive; he let his internal heat build up without panting.

"As you have said, time is of the essence. Because of your combat modifications I understand why you are reluctant to trust me after I tried to destroy you. You must understand I only followed standard procedure regarding rogue androids…"

"Yes Haddock, you've made that abundantly clear." As he spoke heated air from his motors vented through his mouth, making a very human-sounding sigh. "Very well. As the humans say, we will do this your way for now."

"Acknowledged," Haddock simply answered. With that, the lights in the bridge hallway came on, presumably on the rest of the deck also.

"Negative Haddock, activating the deck lights would alert the enemy."

With an acknowledging chime, the lights went off again. Proxima quickly gathered his tools, including his workstation headset before jogging out of the bridge. The lift doors opened without any challenge. His hand hovered over the "deck 2" button briefly before selecting the flight deck. As the lift went down, his mind flashed back to his prior experience with the alien artifact.

His thoughts only came to one inescapable conclusion: unwise.