Ursa

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Why is it that I can hear it as clear as the vacuous space around me? There is no reason for it. There is no parameter in which this is conducive to the completion of my directives. All the same, the anguished scream echoes through my suit. Ringing in my head. There is no reason for it. I try to mitigate the anomaly but it will not resolve. I finish applying pressure to the seal to let the adhesive set and inject the cryogenic catalyst to make the bond, and cannot help but remember the size of the hole. No larger than the tip of a finger. Coming in at twenty five kilometers a second, its fatality is not in its size but in its travel. The screams come back to me again, shaking me out of a memory. I gauge the seal and make my way back into the station.

As soon as the room completes its decompression, the intercom lets off its bell tone.

Ursa, meet us in the medical bay asap.

Diana. Her last readings indicated a large hemorrhage from the top of the liver and a grazing puncture of the right lower lung. There were trace amounts of an asteroid that buried itself as shrapnel. The transport to the medical bay did more damage than I have yet to assess but enough to know that the mortality rate is not in her favor. Five days have gone by and my periodic updates have confirmed this. As I walk down the hall, I look at my repairs and my satisfaction is cut short by the scream that rings throughout the corridor.

I look around, my peripheral sensors failing me, along with my good sense.

There is nobody there. There is no reason for it. I try to understand but the meaning evades me. There is no reason for it.

I turn around, feeling another presence and am met by Icarus. I can read everything in his being in a matter of seconds, but there is no need for all my faculties. It is apparent from the reinforced faux calm, the tell of desperate eyebrows lifted in worry and carrying nervous sweat, and the initial staccato of his command.

We need you in medical. Ten minutes ago.

I walk into the medical bay, trailing Icarus, and see Raxus and Juno gathered around Diana, still unconscious. Juno stands at the feet of Diana’s bed, distanced and holding herself until Icarus comes to her relief. The first person I take notice of, however, is Raxus, who stands at the left side of Diana’s head and neck. He leans forward against the bedside. His presence always commanded attention, and it was no different now as he stared hard into me. His face revealed nothing but the subtle hint of sleeplessness, revealed in the darkened blood vessels under his eyes lit hard by the reflection of the white sheets. His gaze was aimed but his stance remained. His expression revealed nothing. His pulse revealed no change. No change at all. This challenges me in a disarming way. If I knew what it was, I would say I might have felt worried.

Status report.

Juno interjected and Icarus tried to hold her back but Raxus remained primed, demanding again.

Status report.

The breach is sealed, the room has been acclimated to livable pressure and oxygen mixture-

Patient report.

I pause. There is no reason for it. But still, I pause. Raxus can sense it, I can feel his heart palpitate. He asked. I must respond.

The patient suffered a penetrating wound at a speed that ruptured the upper right lobe of the liver, including the major hepatic veins and ducts therein. It also punctured the lower right diaphragm and lung. I was able to stabilize the large pneumothorax and massive bleeding, but the hemorrhage, loss of organ tissue, and inability to fully assess the severity of shrapnel suggest a high mortality rate.

Prognosis.

I pause again. Raxus wastes no time.

Prognosis.

Not certain.

I am unable to tell a lie. But, I am able to choose the degree of truth to disclose.

I feel a shift in the rhythm of Raxus’s heartrate. He stares me down. I know that I cannot hear the gears grinding in my own head, but I can hear them all the same. Mine against his. He can hear it too. I am doing the math, trying to incorporate all the variables, but they are too many to form a cohesive conclusion.There are invariate outcomes that run through my mind. I am doing the math and I look at him and know he is doing the math too. What I cannot calculate is how far he is taking it.

Meeting on the bridge in 10. Check her readings again. I want a thorough prognosis report and treatment protocol, thus far and what’s to come.

Raxus looks at Icarus and Juno blankly. Icarus starts to make his way out, but Juno holds her ground for a moment. He pulls on her to follow him out and she does. Raxus makes his exit, but his stride slows as he approaches me, speeding up as soon as he is clear of me. Had he been any closer, he would have collided with me. Had he collided with me, it would not be any different to him than bumping a wall.

I pause for a moment, feeling his presence still there. I make my way over to Diana and feel him fade around the corner. I approach and can already feel her heart faintly maintain, only easing into the inevitable. There is no need for readings. I check them anyway. It is only confirming what was apparent upon my approach and running probabilities. A new math starts to play out in my head. The outcomes of this event.

The first outcome, however hopeful and however unlikely; Diana makes a recovery. Diana is trusted by the group for her technical expertise, her leadership skills, and her integral knowledge of both the mission logistics and the specifications of the ship. She was chosen for her genetic advantages, as she was not prone to any diseases and had no hereditary predispositions, making her most fit to be relied upon. Her problem solving skills are closest to my level of reactivity. Her technical and social intellect are unparalleled by any one of the crew, apart from Raxus. All of these attributes to the group as a whole would mostly go unfilled by anyone else. Mostly. Her willingness to sacrifice or make decisive moves would be a role unfilled and the void could mean the abandonment of the mission.

This leads to the second outcome, incumbent on the first; She wakes or has made a contingency plan. As far as I have checked, there is no onboard message to suggest such a plan. Unless there is a remote or isolated means of correspondence, which I have not found as far as I have checked and I have checked. Only so far as my protocol will allow. The only contingency, however unlikely, is her awakening and being lucid enough to issue a new phase of action, which is also highly unlikely. The only options therein would be reassign priority, with command or objective, or to abort mission. The means by which she would do this would be through the relinquishment of whatever authority she had to another by the voluntary choosing of the crew or by the facilitation of a vote.

Seeing the disparity of intellect and skillset fit for a thoroughly assessed conclusion, the authority would fall either to Raxus, or me. If Diana dies, this would be an inevitable paradigm. This paradigm will be short lived as reason would lead me to take charge to make calculated decisions. These decisions would encompass the continuation of the mission at what cost is needed, regardless of pathology. A question/answer feedback loop that is closed to any human distaste or considerations. The nature of the decisions would certainly be placid but they would be operable decisions all the same. This, however, is highly unlikely. As I am not a person, I cannot be a leader. As I am not a computer, the decisions made would seem all the more cold. This leaves the only conclusion being that Raxus would take the lead. His decisions would not be so far off from mine. Diana’s condition and the means used to stabilize it have left the rest of the crew at a disadvantage for fluids and medical supplies. Any further continuation of treatment would put them at an untenable disadvantage. The first thing to do would be to terminate treatment for the sake of conservation. There must also be the consideration of the conservation of authority in favor of Raxus who would make discontinuing treatment priority. Once this is achieved, Raxus will maintain the mission and ration supply as he sees most fit. This would be by way of supplying those most fit. With consideration of the communal disposition of the crew, the disparity would be balanced organically. This would be temporary. It would eventually give into a trade or service economy, putting the women of the ship at a disadvantage, two to four. Even with the protection of Juno by Icarus, the odds are still not favorable. I grimace at the thought, although there is no overwhelming reason to. It would not affect me. I would not get involved anyway. I could not get involved if I wanted to.

There is only one true way that I could. One failsafe.

The final option would be to kill everyone. I am not permitted to kill in self defense but I am permitted a degree of self preservation. If it is conducive to the completion of the mission, I am allowed that small degree of pliancy. Seeing the inevitable degeneration of the mission play out, my pliancy seems large enough to make an overall decision. This too is unsustainable as the only outcomes of this action would be to abort the mission, or carry on. Both are untenable. If I kill everyone and abort the mission, there will be an inquiry of the massacre. I am unable to lie. I would give the formal report, that the mission itself was offset to instability and could not be maintained, and I would be decommissioned. My meaning is the mission. It is the only reason I live. I have grown accustomed to living. The next outcome would realistically require three people to gauge readouts and maintain homeostatic conditions of the ship. The mission was designed this way as a failsafe to my failsafe.

The scream comes to me again. This time, there are more than just one. More than just the vocal patterns of Diana, but those of Icarus, of Juno, of Astra, and of Enoch. There is no reason for this. I do not hear anything from Raxus or Petrov. There is no reason for this. But I cannot help feeling there is.

The bell tone of the intercom goes off.

Meeting called to the bridge.

I make my way through the hall and up to the bridge when I get caught by my own reflection. I always get stuck on the image of myself. I often forget that I am a finite object. I cannot feel that I occupy space or that I hold shape, my system has compensated for this. In relation to the crew, I might as well be walking software. Nobody has ever addressed me as a person and my name is more a callsign than a title. Ursa was once an operating software. Now, she has been given a body. Ursa was made manifest to be perfect in every sense, but also limited just enough that the frailty allows a more welcoming presence. The thought of a sentient machine that is superior in intellect, strength, and in endurance would give the feeling of unease. Revisions were made so that she, or I, would be made to be quaintly pretty, smaller, and just as humanly frail. If I am cut, I bleed. If I suffer a wound fatal for a human, I die. Although I would not feel it, I fear both just as much as any other person. I have thoughts more broad and complex than any human, but not nearly as colorful. They are just as binary as a machine. Grey if not black and white. However, there are times when my thoughts get the better of me, if such a gradation could be made. It is in that gradation that I am more human than machine. All the same, my evaluations are relegated to irrelevant byproduct. They are only for me to make sense of the irreverent and nonlinear nature of mankind. I cannot react, at least not truly. I cannot dream. At least this is what I thought.

In that moment, Icarus’s body had bumped against the window from the outside. It bounced hard against the glass before drifting lifelessly out into the void.

My system ran at a rate that felt like fire through my whole body when I saw it. I jumped back and clutched my chest. There was no reason for the reaction, but all the same I could not help but recluse.

Then came Juno, not dressed in a suit, slammed hard against the window. There was blood running from punctures that ran down her body. She looked as though she was submerged in water, banging against the glass, screaming. Enoch joined her, sliding against the center of the glass, running a streak of red from the curved slit in his neck that folded his head back, nearly decapitated.

The screams surrounded me from the other side of the glass.

I could do nothing but watch. As Enoch drifted off and Juno choked and expanded before floating away, I could do nothing but watch. My systems went haywire, reading their flatline through the window, trying to piece together what happened to her, to Enoch, to Icarus. I felt the sudden need for air that I had never felt before. I gasped as hard as Juno did outside.

I felt an impending heartbeat approach me and I turned around quickly.

Juno stood before me, puzzling over my sudden exasperation. She reached out and grabbed my shoulder.

Everything alright?

I reached out to touch her, to feel that she was there and had not been stabbed. She was there, and her vitals were normal. I nodded. She smiled and called me to follow. I looked back out the window, clean and unlittered. There was no reason to have seen that. There was no reason to have felt that. So I did not lie. But I could not help but feel like I did.

Everyone was seated at the bridge. The circle was tight but staggered. Raxus was the only one standing, half kneeling next to Petrov to confide. Enoch was listening, but based on the rhythm of his vitals, he was only half in. I could even feel the slight half step of palpitations that came from reading between the lines of Raxus’ and Petrov’s discussion. Astra sat next to Enoch but leaned in towards Icarus, whispering to him how full of shit Raxus has always been. Juno had been sitting one seat away from Raxus, leaving one open for me. This was probably for utility’s sake more than random social orientation. Raxus looked up and gave an expression that left no need to call me over.

We’ve called a meeting to discuss the current status of Diana and the mission as it stands. Ursa will fill us in on the details of condition, prognosis, treatment protocol, and inventory.

The way he spoke was a demand more than it was a command. There was no pliancy. I could feel the frequency of the room change. The vitals did not suggest uncertainty, more that they suggested anticipation. I stepped up and all the faces had shifted towards me, too much to read fully. No consensus.

Diana’s condition is critical, most of the upper tissue of the right lobe of the liver is eviscerated, hemorrhaging, or embedded with shrapnel. The lower diaphragm is in the same condition, making breathing staggered. The right pneumothorax has been stabilized but potential for full recovery under current circumstances is unlikely. We have proctored two blood transfusions, stem cell regeneration, and life support systems to stabilize. The regeneration will only go so far, her bleed is more persistent than the regeneration’s pace, and the life support system is the only thing keeping her alive rather than supplementing her recovery. Her treatment has had a substantial effect on water and electrolyte availability, plasma and stem cell stockpile, and energy utility.

I wanted to sit down, but Raxus spoke me back to attention.

And where does that leave us for potential emergency use, now and if treatment isn’t terminated?

Juno stood up from her seat.

Which one of our lives is any more important than Diana’s?

Raxus spoke to sit Juno back down.

All of ours. If Diana were awake, she would say the same. If it were anyone else, Diana would say the same.

Astra spoke without looking at Raxus.

What happens then? After we termin-

We continue the mission. It’s too important and we’ve come too far.

But how do we go on without the one person-

The mission is far more important than one person.

Goddamn it, let me finish! What is the mission at this point? It’s not just the outcome, it’s the journey there. The logistics. You have no idea the full scope of what it’s going to take to get where we need to go. None of us do. Except one. And we’re talking about terminating her.

Raxus paused and let the air fall still. The volume shook the room for a moment. There was another reason for pause, I could see the muscles in his face tighten a bit. Not to a grit, but a hidden grin.

I understand everyone’s feelings about the situation, but we need to think about the realities of the situation.

Icarus looked to me with pleading eyes.

What should we do?

Raxus immediately dejected with volume.

No. We are talking about the human members of this ship. The lives at stake.

Juno added, with a subtle sob.

Except one.

For some reason, the statement resonated.

It’s not just our lives at stake. There are more lives than our own counting on the success of this mission. I understand that there are emotions and reservations about this, especially from you Juno. Believe me when I say that I don’t make this decision lightly, or that I don’t consider your sister. But you know her better than I do and you know that I’m right. That she took this mission on knowing it was bigger than her. And I have faith that she ignited that in you, which is what brought you to follow her. I know that everyone here signed on for the same thing. So I beseech you Juno, Astra, everyone here, to be on the side of reason. I know that I already have the support of the two next to me, I know you know it too Icarus. I know that deep down, Juno and Astra, you know it too.

Raxus let the room settle. I looked around to see the faces. Petrov’s face reflected Raxus’s, Enoch’s downward submission reflected Icarus’s, and Astra held Juno, quietly accepting the odds.

We’ll have some time to think it over. We’ll reconvene tomorrow night. Let’s get some shut eye tonight. Adjourned.

Astra shook her head at the self imposed power influx. If I could, I would have too.

Everyone split up to go to their respective dormitories or stations for last diagnostic checks for the night. I stayed in the bridge as was my station and watched the camera feed absently. Everyone was wrapping up the day, making their last necessary moves before conserving energy. I stared out through the window of the bridge at that time. There was no reason for it, but I half expected to see the bodies again. I do not know why. All I could see was the memory of the day. Particularly, I remembered Raxus. He had that lasting an effect. I thought about the subtleties of his face. In comparison to me, what I am and what I am not, there is the suggestion of something different detracting from what I really am, and so it was with him. There was something dormant beneath what Raxus was. In technical and social intellect, there was a parallel to Diana, but it must have been one of polarity. She was as she presented, where Raxus only presented what he wanted. I could tell in the control of his pulse, in the twinge of muscle under his face, and the restraint and tension in his muscles. There was a sleeplessness I could feel. With that sleeplessness came a rationale that I could not calculate, let alone try to understand. I can anticipate actions of an operable behavior, but not ones of blatant and calculated irrational avarice. I thought about how tactful he could be, manufacturing a train of thought to cross reference. I started with when Raxus had potentially thought of his course of action. Where it would happen. Naturally, it would happen over the vulnerable body of Diana. I went back to the feed to scrub when he had first been there.

Diana was gone.

All that was left was a small pool of blood that trailed off the bed onto the floor.

I ran to the medical bay, the screams following me through the corridors. As I got closer, I could see the droplets of blood round the corner and go the direction opposite of me. I disregarded for the moment to throw open the door and view the full scene of the medical bay. The blood poured out on the bed from the spot of her puncture, steadily trailing out and then growing more prominent the further out it went before reaching the door, where it only dripped from between fingers. Pressure was applied to slow the bleed at that point. I pieced it together as best as I could, but I could not form the full picture.

I do not know what this sensation rising up in me from within is. A nerve I do not have twisted on a thought somewhere.

I think it might be terror.

I think it might be terror.