1120 HOURS, SEPTEMBER 22, 2489 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \
COLONIAL MILITARY ADMINISTRATION SEASON OF PLENTY \
SOL SYSTEM LUNA, HIGH ORBIT \ BRIDGE LOG (VIDEO, SPATIAL
ENHANCEMENT=TRUE)
The tiny bridge of the CMA Season of Plenty had view screens and workstations crammed on every square centimeter of wall (with auxiliary stations on the ceiling and floor in case the rotating segment failed). The screens would have provided a simulated panorama of stars had not they instead been crawling with icons representing colonists, building supplies, and the raw materials to jump-start the new city dubbed ―Lazy Acres" on the hellhole of a world called Paradise Falls.
Six ensigns manned their stations, checking and rechecking every gram of mass and fuel, and balancing the energy flow of the rectors in preparation for launch. They barely had enough room to turn without bumping into one another—save Ensign Otto Seinmann, who stood aft of the captain‘s chair at Lorelei‘s interface pedestal.
The artificial intelligence hologram stood half a meter tall. Like all holograms, Lorelei‘s outer appearance reflected a chosen inner personality: a woman wearing a toga, a sickle in her belt, and a wreath of wheat crowning her head. She once again shook her head at the young ensign.
Seinmann crossed his arms over his chest. ―We‘re not done." He towered over the diminutive
hologram, two meters tall, handsome, and his dark hair short but stylishly wavy.
― We may not be done, Ensign," Lorelei replied, ―but I am. My apologies; I have a scheduled self-diagnostic to run before the jump."
The hologram vanished.
Seinmann pounded a fist onto the console.
Ensign Alexis Indara tore her gaze from the mass-balance matrix on her screen. ―Better ease up, Seinmann. You‘re going to break it."
Next to her at the fusion monitoring station, Ensign Handford murmured, ―Maybe it‘s Seinmann‘s breath. These new ‗smarter‘ AIs are supposed to be sensitive to everything."
Lieutenant Commander Nevel stepped onto the bridge. In his mid-thirties he already had that casual air of ―don‘t mess with me" that most officers couldn‘t achieve until they were at least captains. The ensigns all stood a little straighter but kept on working.
―Navigation reports no input parameters yet," Lieutenant Commander Nevel said. ―What‘s the
hold-up, Seinmann?"
Seinmann flushed, not with embarrassment, but with anger. ―Sir, Lorelei has shut herself down for routine maintenance—again."
Nevel raised an eyebrow. ―Well, we were warned it might take a while for her to come fully online.
Reboot the backup intelligence and get those calculations—" Nevel paused, looked Seinmann over, and then told him, ―On second thought, this would be a good opportunity to brush up on your Shaw multivariate calculus, Ensign. Do a rough calculation by hand. The captain expects to be under way in ninety minutes."
Seinmann opened his mouth as if to protest—then said nothing, and then finally, ―Aye, sir."
Nevel wheeled about and left the bridge.
Ensign Indara whispered, ―I think Nevel has an antique slide rule tucked away somewhere if you run out of fingers to count on."
Seinmann growled something unintelligible, grabbed a data pad, and stabbed in calculations.
After a minute of this, he looked among his fellow ensigns (all of whom were busy with their own work) until he spotted a young crewman—or rather the backside of a crewman that protruded from an open access panel to the oxygen recycling intake.
―Cole!" Seinmann barked. ―Get over here."
Crewman Apprentice Cole extracted himself from the narrow crawlspace, stood, straightened his gray coveralls, and ran a hand over his shorn hair (which was dotted with drips and spatters of grease).
The fresh-out-of-barf-school crewman looked alert and eager to please. His dark eyes met
Seinmann‘s and didn‘t waver.
―Yes, sir?"
Seinmann shoved the data pad at Cole. ―I need you to run an independent check on these numbers."
Cole‘s gaze moved to the data pad. He swallowed.
―In case you don‘t recognize them, they‘re parameters for a Shaw-Fujikawa manifold collapse."
Cole nodded and took the pad.
―You do know what a Shaw-Fujikawa manifold is, don‘t you, crewman?" There was a dangerous glint in Seinmann‘s eyes.
Cole didn‘t look up from the pad, still studying its contents. ―Yes . . . sir."
―Good. If you get stuck just look up the formulas on a workstation." With no further explanation, Seinmann picked up his coffee mug and strolled over to Indara.
Cole took the data pad and sat at a nearby station, still not moving his stare from the ensign‘s equations, but now frowning at them. He tapped in a few parameters, sighed, and erased them.
―You‘re cruel," Indara whispered to Seinmann.
―And in hot water if the lieutenant commander finds out you‘re not doing your own work,"
Handford added.
―Cruel . . . ?" Seinmann mused. ―Isn‘t that what crewmen are for?" He looked over at Cole. ―Don‘t worry about the lieutenant commander. I already have the rough calculation done."
―So why pick on Cole?" Indara asked. ―He gets his work done and doesn‘t bother anyone."
―He bothers me ," Seinmann said. ―Never shows the proper respect. Did you see the way he looked at me? And he‘s always got his nose in a library access terminal, too, reading ancient history or quantum field theory or stuff he couldn‘t possibly understand. It‘s so obviously an act."
―I still think it‘s unnecessarily cruel," Indara said.
Lieutenant Commander Nevel stepped onto the bridge.
Seinmann instantly pretended to be double-checking the seed stock in Holding Bay 4.
The AI pedestal lit and Lorelei flickered upon its surface, the lines of her face smoothed into the features of someone just waking up. ―Good afternoon, Lieutenant Commander. All primary and
secondary neural links checked. Shaw-Fujikawa parameters calculated and three-times-three
checked. All systems go. Season of Plenty ready for slipstream space transition upon the captain‘s orders."
―Very good," Nevel said. He spotted Seinmann and added, ―Oh . . . and link to Ensign Seinmann‘s data pad and check his work, please."