Carpathian Forty-Three

Carpathian Forty-Three - Part 7

Ward is a plug of a human. The only crewmember from Earth, they grew up in oppressive gravity, stunting their growth, thickening their bones and muscles. They fumble in zero gravity like a clumsy oaf, bumping into the bulkheads and panels. They mostly stay on The Ring, the spinning habitat that houses our cargo of hibernation sleepers. Ward's primary duty on the ship is to oversee the passengers, make sure their pods are operating correctly and generally keeping them alive. It's mind-numbingly boring work, but it's important.

Rhianu will tolerate Thak, the Martian, as an assistant to Stephen, and occasionally for Rhianu themselves, but Thak has been with us for seven cycles, they're family. Ward, Ward can't be trusted with a screwdriver. At least, none of us do.

"I won't do it," Ward says.

They want to cross their arms in a sign of defiance, but the zero gravity doesn't allow it. They try to but are reluctant to give up the handhold on the Engineer bench they're all floating around. It would be comical in different circumstances.

"You don't have a say," Thak says.

"The hell I don't."

We're hurtling towards Saturn, less than thirty days from a braking burn that will put us into a rendezvous orbit for Titan, the second largest moon in the solar system, and the largest of Saturn's moons. Except. I'm dying, and with me any hope of executing that burn precisely enough to make our orbit. At least, that's what I thought this morning.

Stephen is floating at the bench, their toes curled around a foot hold there, anchoring themselves to the 'floor' elegantly. They're ignoring the bickering Martian and Earther, lost in thought, or maybe a flashback? Stephen's the stoic, even more so than Captain Voclain, which, honestly is rather impressive.

"I am not thawing someone out to hook up to the ship," Ward says with a finality that none of us believe.

It's a risky gambit, but maybe the best chance the crew has of surviving. Normally we'd time and execute the braking burn, depending on the quantum computer that houses my sentience to made minute adjustments to our trajectory while the ship slows into our rendezvous orbit. There are inhuman numbers of calculations to make to adjust to such an aggressive burn. It's routine for me, but I'll be dead by then. Thak has proposed using an enhanced human brain to perform the calculations.

"Even if we can interface someone with what's left of Fort, they'd need to learn how to execute the burn and course corrections," Voclain says, surprising Ward and Thak. I can see the wheels spinning in Voclain's mind though, they're working through the problem.

"We don't even know if interface is possible," Ward says.

"Yes," Stephen says quietly, "We do."

An audible alarm pierces the room, screeching from a panel at the bulkhead 'upward', towards the Command Module.

"Temperature in the computer core has risen to five hundred micro kelvin," I say. The liquid helium that keeps my brain functioning is boiling off. I silence the alarm.

"I was enhanced," Stephen says. It's painful for them to talk about. Being Enhanced is to be part of a consciousness with Quantum Sentience in a sort of hive mind, but that doesn't do it justice. It's prevalent on Luna, where the most advanced computer science in the Solar System makes it possible. The concept of Enhancement is outlawed on Earth. It's no wonder Ward is clueless about it.

"It was magical," they say, remembering. "To be linked to minds, so many minds." They trail off.

That Stephen was Enhanced isn't a secret, it's evident if you know how to look, the scars behind their ears are a clear indication. They didn't want to talk about it though, and we respected that. It's unusual for someone to give up being Enhanced, to break the link with the minds they grew up with, to exist in just their own skull, even augmented by cranial implants, it's a lonely existence.

"Any enhanced can interface with a quantum system," they say. "But without Fort running, they'll be alone. Even with Fort running they'd be alone. One other mind is so... empty. Without Fort... It's cruel."

"How long do you have Fort?" Voclain asks.

"Hours," I say. I have hours to live.

"Can an Enhanced mind train on the braking and correction procedures without you online?"

"Possibly. It would be better if I could show them the process though."

"Well," Voclain says, floating away from the bench. "I have a decision to make. Thakkar, send me a list of candidates. Ward, your objections are noted."

"Captain, I don't condone this solution," I say once Voclain is in their cabin, the door closed behind them. "Subjecting an Enhanced mind to this is..." I want to say torture. It's torture. But that's hyperbolic.

"Your objections are noted as well, Fort," Voclain says. "I'd like some privacy please."

"Rosalie, this is wrong."

"I know. Privacy please."

"Understood."