Dust

“Why do I have to do everything around here?” he complained as he slid quietly through the duct, kicking up clouds of dust that shouldn’t be there. Where were the maintenance bots that were supposed to prevent this kind of thing? He would need to reprimand the computer for it later, after he took care of more pressing matters. Pirates had invaded the ship, and no alarms had gone off.

He hadn’t thought of it until just then. Where were the claxons? They should have gone off the instant the computer detected intruders… unless they had somehow eluded the system?

“Hey, Bitsy,” he grumbled quietly so his voice wouldn’t travel through the ductwork, “Give me a location on the intruders.”

The computer hesitated to respond. Hell of a time to get confused over a nickname, he silently grumbled.

“There are no intruders detected within this vessel,” the computer responded at a normal volume, blaring down the narrow passage. He scrambled to cover the speaker on his pad, but it was already too late. The pirates must have heard it, if only from afar, and he doubted they would think it was a freak malfunction. Kicking himself for being careless, he lowered the pad’s volume to almost mute and continued on his way. There was nothing else he could do.

So, he was right. The pirates had disabled the system somehow, or were able to escape detection, maybe with some strange device, but there was nothing he could do about it yet. His priority lay in keeping them from seizing the ship. They had sent one group to the bridge and the other to the drive deck, so he had to go one of those places, too. Right? The question was which one?

He really wished that the intruder systems had gone off. He wasn’t security. He had no idea where to go or what to do, but like confronting a backed-up toilet, he knew he mustn’t panic, even if excrement was flowing everywhere. He just had to figure out which place to go and what to do once he got there.

He paused to stifle a sneeze, then waited for the dust to settle. Okay, the priority was preventing the pirates from taking the ship. He already established that. So, how to do that? Disable navigational controls? Disable the engines? Either way, he needed to go to separate sections of the ship to do it, and they were exactly where the pirates were headed. Damn it! Was there another option? Disable power to the ship? Would that take care of both at once?

“Hey, Bitsy,” he quietly mumbled into the pad’s mic, “How do I disable power to the ship?”

“Warning!” the pad snapped, and fortunately it didn’t carry past the hand he’d cupped over the speaker. “Disabling power will cause catastrophic shutdown of life support services! Warning! Disabling power will cause catastrophic -!”

“All right! Fine!” he urgently hissed into the mic. “Stop!”

The computer immediately obliged and when he was certain that it wasn’t going to resume its tirade, he thought for a bit. He couldn’t cut power. What were the other options, again?

“What about navigational control?” he muttered. “Can I cut that?”

“Warning!” the pad blurted. “Disabling of navigational control is not advised! Warning! Disabling -!”

“Okay! That’s enough!” he hissed, and the pad went silent. So much for that, but it wasn’t a catastrophic warning, so he kept it in mind as he formulated his next question.

“What about drive systems?” he quietly asked. “Can I disable those?”

“Warning!” the pad blurted. “Disabling drive systems will cause catastrophic power loss that will affect the following systems: Life Services, Navigational Control, Food Service, CryoSystems, Damage Control Systems, Security Services, Gravitational -!”

“Okay! That’s enough!” The pad went silent and he cursed under his breath. It sounded like everything was tied to the drive system. If he fooled around with it, he might just kill them all. But…

“How long would it take to reactivate Drive Systems if I disabled them?”

“Unknown,” the pad dutifully replied.

That was no help! “Can Drive Systems be reactivated if disabled?”

“Unknown,” the pad replied.

You little -! “Alright, if you helped me disable them, could we do it in a way that systems can be restored again?”

“Unknown.”

“What the hell do you know, then?”

“This system has access to two hundred and thirty-seven quadribytes of library material, four thousand eight hundred fifty-two quintibytes of schematic detail regarding ship’s functions -!”

“Okay! Fine! Shut up!” He sighed heavily. Things were hard enough without the stupid computer making it even harder. It was obvious that he was alone in figuring out how to protect the ship. But he needed one more piece of advice, and unfortunately, the computer was the only one that could give it to him.

“Of all the options given,” he carefully said, “Which one poses the least danger to the ship and the lifeforms on it?”

The computer paused, and he waited, but it took the pad a long time to answer.

“Unknown.”

He wanted to throw it against the wall, but knowing that he’d need it later, he restrained himself.

Fine! He would need to figure it out for himself, then. Which one was the one that didn’t lead to catastrophic failure? Was that navigation?

“What happens if I disable navigation?”

“Ship’s course may deviate without periodic correction,” the pad replied.

“How badly?”

“Unknown.”

“Why don’t you know?” he grumbled irritably.

“Probability of course deviation is dependent upon unknown variables upon which navigational systems are programmed to compensate,” the pad replied. “Without consistent course correction, probability of completing projected mission decreases exponentially.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. It looked like there were no good options, just less catastrophic ones. Unless he suddenly became a genius and figured out a solution that bypassed those options, he was forced to choose disabling navigation. At least it left them alive, unless the ship was sucked into a blackhole that wandered into its path.

“Where are navigational controls?” he asked, wiping a sudden burst of sweat from his face. His hand came away covered in grime.

“Navigation is located on the Bridge,” the pad replied.

That wouldn’t do unless he could beat the pirates to the Bridge. “Is there a shortcut to the Bridge?”

“I do not understand the inquiry,” the pad replied.

He wiped his runny nose irritably. Damn dust! “Is there an alternate route to the Bridge that would get me there ahead of anyone using the normal corridors?”

The pad paused in thought, then said, “Considering the average walking pace of bipedal and quadrupedal lifeforms, in comparison to the crawling pace of equal lifeforms, the probability of reaching the Bridge via alternate avenues versus conventional corridors is exceptionally low, approximately two hundred fifty-five million, three hundred sixty-seven thousand, four hundred eighty-three to one.

“Lovely!” he grumbled. And he’d wasted too much time arguing with the pad already. “Is there anywhere else that I can disable navigational control?”

“There are three nodes where navigational control may be affected,” the pad replied. “The Drive Deck, the Bridge, and Auxiliary Control.”

“Auxiliary Control?” He didn’t know there was one. “Where’s that?”

The pad showed him a schematic of the ship, with a blinking red spot to indicate Auxiliary Control. As far as he could tell, it was halfway between the Bridge and the Drive Deck.

“Which is closest?” he demanded, finding hope in Auxiliary Control. Maybe he wouldn’t need to go anywhere near the pirates to thwart them.

The pad showed him where he was on the schematic, and he shook his head dismally. They all looked about equidistant to him. Still, if it came to not getting caught in the act…

“Show me a route to Auxiliary Control,” he ordered, and a jagged red line appeared on the pad between his position and his target. Unfortunately, the line crossed a few corridors where he knew he would need to leave the ducts momentarily.

“Any way to keep to the ducts?” he asked.

As the computer processed the request, he realized that the AI was trying to figure out what he meant. He was getting too tired of thinking make his requests any clearer to the stupid thing.

“No,” the pad replied. “Ventilation in that area is too narrow for occupation.”

He shook his head, not liking the idea of using the corridors, but if the pirates confined themselves to the Bridge and the Drive Deck, he might be fine, so he took a deep breath, and coughed from inhaled dust. Damn maintenance bots!

Still coughing, but not as much as he had initially, he slid along the ducts, periodically consulting the pad for any turns he might need to make. He would worry about what to do next once he got to Auxiliary Control. That is, if he got there.