《A Starship Called Starsong》 Chapter 1 I tightened the last bolt and rolled out from underneath the large sewing machine. The type of bolts I¡¯d used were overkill, but the sewing machine would die of old age before it fell off the wall again. I put my tools in my belt pouch and stood up. ¡°There you go. I fixed the damaged gears and bolted it to the wall. It would be advisable to run a calibration when you turn it on.¡± The nearby seamstress glanced up from the leggings she was hemming. ¡°Thank you, Rachel. I asked Maintenance to look at it a while ago, but Steve was too busy. I know he¡¯s the only one in that area and doesn¡¯t have an assistant at the moment. I didn¡¯t think it would actually fall off the wall, or I would have added that detail to the repair request.¡± Busy. Right. Busy playing pool with Mack all day instead of doing their jobs. Steve¡¯s last assistant had quit, and he hadn¡¯t bothered hiring another since my overseer, Mack, let him assign smaller stuff to me. Technically, minor repairs like this were supposed to be done by the Maintenance group, not a junior assistant from the Cargo Bay. The captain either didn¡¯t notice or didn¡¯t care since things were getting done. ¡°No problem. I¡¯m happy I could help.¡± The seamstress stood up. ¡°Since you¡¯re here, could you take a look at the light fixture in the fabric room? The ticket has been open for over a week.¡± ¡°Sure. I can take a look.¡± This may have been a hundred light-years away from my official tasks in the Cargo Bay, but I wasn¡¯t about to protest or voice a complaint. Minor repairs were far better than dealing with my overseer in the Cargo Bay. I propped a ladder beneath the misbehaving light as I dismissed my internal complaints. There wasn¡¯t much to do in the Cargo Bay in the middle of a voyage, and helping with maintenance tickets kept me from getting bored. After removing the screws, I let the light fixture dangle on the supporting chain that all spaceship lights were required to have. I pulled out my favorite gadget, a handheld device called an Analyzer. I pressed a few buttons on the advanced piece of equipment and held it close to the light fixture. A red light scanned the fixture before an image and words appeared on the display screen. I had saved up to buy this high-end model and its advanced software, and it had been worth every piece of astro gold. The screen told me exactly what was wrong and how to fix it. It even included a diagram of which wires had to be spliced, and it even provided links to various tutorials in case I needed them. I hummed as I fixed the light, idly daydreaming about sending my university an anonymous letter complaining that the three years of classes hadn¡¯t prepared me for repair tasks like replacing the cooling elements on the artificial gravity capacitors. That would have them scratching their heads. Less than a minute later, the light was fixed. I marked the work ticket as fixed on my Analyzer and closed the ticket. The seamstress looked up from calibrating her sewing machine as I came out of the room. ¡°It¡¯s fixed. Do you need anything else?¡± Politeness was a necessity on a cargo hauler like this one. More than three-quarters of the ship was comprised of holding bays and storage areas packed full of trade goods. With just over two hundred crew members, space was at a premium. Besides, I had nothing against the seamstress. She had been polite even though her work ticket had been sitting for weeks on end without a response or update. She was just happy to have it fixed. It was crew members like these who I enjoyed helping. She smiled. ¡°Thank you so much, Rachel! I can¡¯t think of anything else. I hope you enjoy your evening.¡± ¡°Thanks. You too¡± I walked down the corridor and checked my Analyzer for any urgent work tickets or emergencies. As per usual, the Cargo Bay list was completely empty. With a sigh, I opened up the Maintenance list. Hundreds of tickets were open, but all of them were low priority. My shift was over in five minutes, so I headed back to the Cargo Bay to ensure nothing else needed to be done. Mack would have contacted me via my communication device if anything had come up, but it was still policy and protocol. I reached the main Cargo Bay loading dock just as he was leaving his office and asked him, ¡°Is there anything left that needs to be done?¡± ¡°Nah, mid-voyage is dead boring. Always is. See ya tomorrow, Rookie.¡± ¡°Sounds good.¡± I headed down a different corridor. Mack might not be anywhere near the top of the ideal boss list, but he was far from the worst. His disorganization allowed me a lot of freedom in how I handled my duties, which was a huge perk. I headed to the mess hall and sat at an empty table while waiting for Cynthia. Using my Analyzer, I checked my email. Other than a newsletter with Analyzer tips, there was nothing. My brother knew my shift; he would call my personal computer in my room later. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. No replies to the many resumes and applications I filled out and submitted regularly, although I wasn¡¯t really expecting one. It might be easy to get into the large galactic universities to train for the numerous careers among the spaceships, but getting a job on board was an entirely different story. Even though I had started submitting resumes the instant I entered university and continued doing so throughout all three years of schooling, there had been only one inquiry. I¡¯d been so nervous that I¡¯d done extensive research on the spaceship. I had almost certainly been hired because I hadn¡¯t expressed any interest in what we were hauling, even though it was a standard question for a Cargo Bay position in case we needed additional safety training for hazardous materials. An official trading spaceship like this went through too many spaceport inspections to risk hauling something seriously illegal, like death phasers or compulsion smokeweed, but certain crates with obscure labels undoubtably contained things that were in the grey area of importing regulations or only banned on certain planets, which we may or may not have been scheduled to visit. Cynthia walked in, and after a look at the long line up by the buffet, she slid into the chair beside me. ¡°The strawberries are back on track! The first ones should be ready tomorrow, but it¡¯ll be a few days before there¡¯s enough to grace the dining hall.¡± In other words, the high-ranking crew members would get first dibs. I smirked. ¡°So it was the fertilizer regulator?¡± She elbowed me in jest. ¡°Smart-aleck. Whatever you did fixed it, although Steve hadn¡¯t found anything wrong when he scanned it previously.¡± Why someone in charge of Maintenance would use the cheapest Analyzer on the market baffled me. My Analyzer had told a different story, but I didn¡¯t dare say anything or talk down someone in a superior position, even if they weren¡¯t present. I shrugged. ¡°Perhaps it was just starting to go, and I scanned it when it was acting up.¡± Both of us knew the truth, but neither of us could say it out loud. Every spaceship had dozens of sensors and audio pickups in every public room and corridor. They were supposedly meant to locate the crew members or intruders in an emergency or a pirate attack, but the surveillance worked equally well to watch for any signs of discontent. Cynthia stood up. ¡°Let¡¯s go see what they managed to cook up in the way of dinner tonight.¡± I reluctantly followed her. Even my advanced Analyzer wasn¡¯t sure what to make of some of the food that was occasionally served in the areas where low-ranking crew members ate. I spooned things onto my plate and gingerly added a small spoonful of anonymous, grey paste to one untenanted corner. The sign proclaimed it to be pork casserole, but it looked very similar to some of the glues I had used earlier today. Once back at our table, I ate some salad while waiting for Cynthia to work up enough courage to try the grey paste. I had no qualms about letting someone else hazard the food they served here. The cooks always tested new recipes on the assistants, and this was the pork casserole¡¯s first appearance. Cynthia¡¯s face scrunched up, and she quickly lifted her napkin to her mouth to spit out the offending sludge. My caution had paid off once again. ¡°That bad, huh?¡± She shuddered as she replied, ¡°That was almost as bad as last week¡¯s soup.¡± That was not a good thing. I used a corner of my napkin to remove the tiny spoonful from my plate lest it contaminate everything else from its isolated corner. ¡°Ah, here you two are.¡± Logan slid into the seat beside Cynthia. The computer technician set his plate in front of him. ¡°You probably haven¡¯t heard yet, but there¡¯s going to be a large software update tomorrow after lunch. The official announcement is coming out in a couple of hours.¡± Cynthia sat up straighter. ¡°Which systems are they updating? The sprinkler timers always go haywire if they touch that system.¡± ¡°The captain found a big sale, so we¡¯re updating the thruster software and doing a major upgrade on the Main Database Console. That system hasn¡¯t been updated in decades, so this will be a big improvement. We¡¯ll have shut down a lot of systems while it updates though.¡± ¡°When are they doing this update?¡± I asked, already thinking ahead. ¡°Are we going to lose artificial gravity?¡± Thrusters weren¡¯t something you wanted to update while docked in case they kicked in momentarily or sputtered when firing up, but if we lost gravity, it could cause less-than-entertaining situations in the cargo holds. The retraining straps were just as reliable as the rest of the aged equipment on this ship. Logan shrugged. ¡°Mid-afternoon. The thrusters have to be taken offline during the update. We¡¯ll upgrade the ship¡¯s AI at the same time, which means we¡¯ll be on basic life support until the upgrade is complete. We¡¯re hoping we won¡¯t lose gravity, but it¡¯s a possibility. No more than an hour at the most.¡± ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll have to ensure the big equipment is all strapped down.¡± Having a loader float above you when the anti-grav might kick in at any moment was a guaranteed way to send your heart racing. ¡°No problem.¡± He dug his spoon into the grey paste on his plate. I kept a straight face. ¡°Logan, I dare you to put a bowlful of that stuff on the snack table in the bridge.¡± He paused to examine the paste and my expression. I had plenty of practice in hiding my true emotions after three years of university. The faintest glint of mischief might show in my eyes, but only those who knew me well could spot it. My wording would have given me away though. He slowly put his spoon back down. ¡°And what¡¯s in it for me if I do?¡± All of us knew he would never do such a thing. Pulling pranks on the captain and bridge crew could easily get him fired and left at the next planet we docked at. I kept my voice passive. ¡°I¡¯ll let you win the next chess game.¡± ¡°That isn¡¯t a game. It¡¯s an archaic system that in no way makes allowances for spaceships and space travel.¡± ¡°Please try the paste. It will convey the exact message that I have for such a response.¡± Chess was a perfectly good game as far as I was concerned. It may have been so old it creaked, but the strategy it taught was still useful. Logan shook his head. ¡°This is why I rarely eat here. I think I¡¯ll go in search of my team and eat with them. Why the cooks keep trying to poison you trainees is beyond me. It just gives the medics more work.¡± ¡°Traitor. Where¡¯s your courage?¡± He refused to give into my faint challenge, simply stating, ¡°My courage simply prefers to dine on fancier fare, so I shall bid you a good evening.¡± Logan wandered off in search of food that wasn¡¯t so dubious. In his position, he was able to eat decent food with the overseers and similarly ranked crew members. Cynthia and I finished our dinner and went to our private quarters since we were expecting calls from family members. One the biggest perks on this ship was that everyone got their own room. It was barely big enough for a small bed, but we didn¡¯t have to share it with others. * * * The polished version of this story will be released on Amazon in several months. This rough draft will remain free for people to enjoy. Chapter 2 I spooned things onto my plate and gingerly added a small spoonful of anonymous, grey paste in one untenanted corner of my plate. The sign proclaimed it to be pork casserole, but it looked very similar to some of the glues I had used earlier today. Cynthia and I walked over to an empty table. It looked like Cynthia was also trying some of the grey paste. I ate some salad as she worked up her courage to try it. I had no qualms about letting someone else hazard the food they served here. I¡¯m not stupid, and I know perfectly well that anything the cooks come up with is served here at least ten times ¨C and they only serve it to those higher up if the trays are cleared the last five times. This was the pork casserole¡¯s first appearance here, so it could either be a good thing or a really, really bad thing. Cynthia made a face and quickly lifted her napkin to her mouth to politely get rid of the offending food before taking a big drink to get the taste out of her mouth. And caution pays off once more... ¡°That bad, huh?¡± She shuddered lightly as she replied, ¡°That was almost as bad as last week¡¯s soup.¡± That was not a good thing. I eyed up the paste on my own plate and carefully used a corner of my napkin to remove the tiny spoonful from my plate lest it contaminate everything else from its isolated corner. "Ah, here you two are." Logan slid into a seat beside Cynthia. The computer technician looked at Cynthia and me with his usual upbeat manner, "Did you hear that there is a huge software update happening tomorrow after lunch? The official announcement will probably come out later tonight since they just told me, but quite a few have already heard the news." I may splice wires and stuff, but Logan and his two co-workers did everything that was related to fixing computers or ensuring the software was up to date. Cynthia looked at him in curiosity. "No, we haven''t heard anything yet. How many systems are they updating? The sprinkler timers always go haywire whenever they update the software on that system..." He shrugged. "There are dozens of small updates, although I don''t think the sprinkler system will be impacted. One of the bigger updates is the thruster software since its current issues are due to the outdated software. One company had a huge blowout on an upgrade to the Main Database Console, and the Captain paid a pretty penny for it even with that discount. That system hasn''t been updated in decades, so this will be a huge improvement." I inquired, ¡°When are they doing this update? Are we going to lose artificial gravity?¡± Thrusters weren¡¯t something you wanted to update while docked in case they kicked in momentarily or sputtered when firing up, but if we lost gravity, it sometimes created less than entertaining situations in the cargo holds. The retraining straps were just as reliable as the rest of the aged equipment on this ship. Logan shrugged. ¡°Mid-afternoon. The thrusters are being taken offline during this update. We¡¯ll also upgrade the ship¡¯s AI at the same time, which means we¡¯ll be on basic life support with no surplus power until the upgrade is complete. We¡¯re hoping we won¡¯t lose gravity, but it¡¯s a possibility. No more than an hour at most.¡± ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll have to ensure the big equipment is all strapped down.¡± There was nothing like having a loader float above you to get your heart racing in freefall when anti-grav might kick in at any time. I grinned in relief. "Thanks." ¡°No problem.¡± He dug his spoon into the grey paste on his plate. I kept a straight face. ¡°Hey Logan, I dare you to put a bowlful of that stuff on the snack table in the Bridge by the dipping sauces.¡± He paused before examining both the paste and my expression. I had plenty of practice in hiding my true emotions. The faintest glint of mischief may show in my eyes, but only those who knew me well could spot it. My wording would have given it away though. He slowly put his spoon back down. ¡°And what is in it for me if I do?¡± All of us knew he would never do such a thing. Pulling such a stunt with the Captain and Bridge crew could easily get him fired and left at the next planet we docked at. I passively responded, ¡°I will let you win the next chess game.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°That isn¡¯t a game. It is an archaic system that in no way makes allowances for spaceships and space travel.¡± ¡°Please try the paste. It will convey the exact message that I have for such a response.¡± Chess was a perfectly good game as far as I was concerned. It may have been so old that it creaked, but the strategy it taught was still useful. I had grown fond of it during my time at university. Logan wasn¡¯t about to attempt it to see what message I was referring to. ¡°And this is why I rarely eat here. I think I will go in search of my team and have lunch with them. Why the cooks keep trying to poison you trainees is beyond me. It just gives the medics more work.¡± ¡°Traitor. Where is your courage?¡± He refused to give into my faint challenge, simply stating, ¡°My courage simply prefers to dine on fancier fare. So, I will bid you a good evening.¡± Logan wandered off, probably in search of food that wasn¡¯t so dubious. He had been on this ship long enough that he was no longer considered a trainee. In other words, he gets to eat decent food with the Overseers and other long-term crew. Cynthia and I managed to finish the rest of our supper, and since we were both expecting calls from family members, we headed off to our private quarters. One big unexpected perk on this ship was that everyone got their own room. It may be just big enough for a small bed, but we didn¡¯t have to share it with others. * * * I got up the next morning and headed down to the showers. I brushed out my short blonde hair after getting dressed. The strands of hair were shorter than my fingers, but long hair was a nuisance in my position. I went down for breakfast and visited once more with Cynthia before I got ready for my shift. I checked the Analyzer and opened up the system to see what work was on my schedule today. Some routine maintenance had to be done on the lifts, but that was all that was assigned to the Cargo Bay. I opened up the Maintenance section and winced at the long list. It had almost doubled overnight, although that was typical on an older ship of this size. Anything from a burnt out light to regular maintenance, like cleaning the air filters, would appear on this list. Days like this made me glad for my Analyzer¡¯s powerful software. I hit a few buttons as I ran a pre-programmed sorting function that I had made. It took into account how long the work ticket had been open, where it was located on the ship, as well as several other factors as it organized them for me. It sorted them so that I would not be running from one end of the ship to the other or potentially overlooking older tickets. It also made sure that anything regarding the Cargo Bay was at the top of my list. Mack had never once shown up at his office on time, but I still planned to head to the Cargo Bay first. It was policy and procedure, and I didn¡¯t want to risk getting officially reprimanded if Mack somehow appeared there one day and didn¡¯t see me show up. The lifts took me about half an hour to tend to, but that was it. There was nothing left to do in the cargo holds, which was another reason I didn¡¯t mind doing the small work tickets for Maintenance. The Analyzer beeped, and I glanced at it as it added a ticket above the rest of my list. It was a medium priority ticket. Since I had finished up here, I went straight to the cooking area to see why one of their stoves had suddenly stopped working. The software even told me what was likely broken from the details, as well as suggesting various items that I would potentially need. It made it easy to decide which tools to take with me. The dozens of small tasks kept me moving throughout the morning and, thankfully, most were really easy fixes. I paused as I opened up the next ticket. I always read the ticket in detail before heading in that direction, just so I knew what I was getting into. How did this ticket get this high on my list? It was only opened three days ago, and it is marked as low importance. I skimmed the details; a bedroom air vent circulation fan was making a low squealing noise. I scrolled through more details, and my eyes widened as I realized why it had jumped the queue. One of the Navigators had submitted this ticket, but he had miscategorised it, which was why Steve hadn¡¯t caught it. He always did their tickets the very first day, and they were not aware of the usual wait time for tickets. I didn¡¯t dare complete this ticket myself. For starters, I didn¡¯t have access to personal quarters unless the person let me in, not to mention that I didn¡¯t have access to that level of the ship. There were two ways I could go about this. I could ignore it and let Steve take the fall for not keeping the wait time at an acceptable level. Or, I could let Steve know so he could catch it before the Officer got too upset. As much satisfaction as I would get from watching him being reprimanded, it would be far better to have him grateful or indebted to me for helping him. I would just have to be careful about how I went about this... I touched the communication device pinned to my shirt. ¡°Rachel to Steve in Maintenance.¡± A small beep let me know that I had a connection lined up. ¡°Hey Steve, do you have a moment?¡± The small beep let me know that the message was recorded and successfully transmitted to Steve¡¯s communication device. ¡°I suppose. I am pretty busy though.¡± The sound of pool balls clattering in the background told me exactly how busy he was, despite the big upgrade they planned after lunch. ¡°Can you please take a look at work ticket D385? I don¡¯t have access to that level of the ship.¡± ¡°Give me a minute.¡± My unofficial duties had given me access to most areas on the spaceship, but he would have to upgrade my access or do that ticket himself. He almost always just granted access, but the instant he looked at the level that room was on, he would realize just who lived there. ¡°I am unable to grant access to that level, so I will look after this one personally.¡± ¡°Thanks, Steve.¡± I knew his excuse for what it was, but it allowed him to keep his pride intact, which would keep him from getting mad at me. Having any Overseer or higher ranking crew member furious and out for revenge was not a good thing. Chapter 3 I made sure I was in the Cargo Bay area after lunch. We had been warned that almost anything that required power was going to lose it while the upgrades were done. The gravity capacitors should remain up, but accidents happened, and zero gravity was a terrible thing in a Cargo Bay or storage area. In theory, everything was secured in case we lost the artificial gravity, but all it would take is for one strap to come loose. Even Mack was in his office. I sat on a bench in the main loading area, idly kicking my heels as I scanned through my Analyzer just to kill the boredom. I programmed a few more scripts into the device while keeping an eye on the work tickets. If any emergency ones surfaced, I wanted to know about them immediately. The main lights went out, leaving us with just the dim backup lights. We had expected this and ignored it. Time passed slowly, and I was grateful to be in such a large room when the ventilation fans were on low backup power. Our air would take a long time to get stale. It took almost the full scheduled hour before the lights flickered back on and the ventilation fans once more hummed deeply. I already had my tickets lined up, and no new ones had come in during the upgrade, so that was a bonus. I got to my feet and stretched; it had been a long time since I had sat that much. I was used to being on my feet all day. Mack came out of his office and asked, ¡°Where are you off to first, Rookie?¡± My boss is such a jerk at times. How he manages it so casually is beyond me. He didn¡¯t make the term sound like an insult, but I had yet to hear him use my actual name or even my true position as Cargo Bay Assistant. I was used to it by now and kept my expression to polite attentiveness. ¡°I was thinking I would continue where I left off in the electrical room.¡± He shrugged with disinterest. ¡°Fine by me. Just-¡± Beep, Beep, Beep. I grabbed my Analyzer as it sounded an alert for an emergency ticket. Considering that only my machine was going off, it was certainly something to do with the Maintenance area. Mack didn¡¯t bother picking up his machine as he waited for me to relay the information since I was already reading. ¡°Thrusters are still offline. Steve has already assigned himself to that one.¡± Mack sighed in disappointment. ¡°So much for finishing our game off before supper.¡± Beep, Beep, Beep. I glanced down at the Analyzer still in my hands, and my eyes widened as two tickets appeared at once. ¡°We got two more emergencies. All of the agricultural systems are down, and we only have about an hour to get them online before we start losing the more sensitive plants. The oxygen replenishment machines also did not come back online.¡± That caught Mack¡¯s attention. ¡°Steve won¡¯t even glance at the alerts until he fixes the thrusters. I will go take a look at the oxygen machines while you go rescue those plants.¡± I nodded and started running down the corridor. I was out of breath by the time I got to the agricultural area. All of the agricultural crew were busy either trying to get things working or trying to manually keep the plants from drying out in the hydroponic systems. Cynthia saw me enter but kept trying to manually fill up a water tray. Her Overseer came over the instant she saw me. ¡°We can¡¯t get the computers, the water pumps, or any of the other systems online. We have lighting, but that is it.¡± I held up my Analyzer. ¡°Let me see what I can do.¡± She led me to the main control panel for this room, and I plugged my machine into it as I also ran the scanner across the entire console with its hundreds of controls. I watched the display intently as it ran through its diagnostics. The Overseer was also watching the display as she stood beside me. :Systems offline. Authorization required.: I had never seen that message before. What the hell does that mean? I tapped the explanation box for more details. :Systems are offline by override order from the Bridge. Appropriate authorization required to remove override. No notes attached to the override. No further information is available. Please check with the Bridge.: The Overseer was just as confused as I was. She said, ¡°Why would the Captain or Officers shut down our systems? The backup pumps ran just fine during the power outage, but we can¡¯t even get them working now.¡± I had no answer for her. A flashing orange light in the top corner of my Analyzer prompted me to check the work tickets. My jaw dropped, and the Overseer inhaled in shock as the number of intermediate and high priority tickets required me to scroll down through the list to see them all. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. All sorts of systems were offline. Water, sewage, air, heating, cooling, weapons, and many more. The emergency tickets were the type automatically created when a system went down, so there weren¡¯t any additional details. How did so many systems go offline at once? The upgrade wasn¡¯t supposed to even affect half of these systems. What was going on? The Overseer was more decisive than I was. ¡°Go help Mack get the air systems back online. We can eat dry rations for two weeks, but we can¡¯t hold our breath for that long.¡± I took off running once more, planning to head to the other air quality control room. Perhaps I would have more luck there. I hadn¡¯t gone far when I almost ran right into Logan. I gaped at his unexpected appearance; there was no reason for him to be in this corridor... ¡°What is going on?¡± I was a long ways away from any of the larger computers, and he looked pretty frantic. He grabbed my shoulders urgently. ¡°The main computer¡¯s AI is taking over the entire ship. I need to get to a backup mainframe to try and reverse the upgrade, but I can¡¯t find the room! The AI messed up the electronic maps, and I have never been to this room before! Where is the Delta access room?!¡± My mind tried to wrap itself around the details as I gave him directions. ¡°... then turn left and it is by the plumbing room on that level.¡± ¡°Thanks!¡± He took off running. I watched him go in a daze before shaking my head hard. My little Analyzer didn¡¯t stand a chance of bypassing a spaceship¡¯s powerful AI. But I couldn¡¯t just sit by idly and do nothing, so perhaps having two people trying to get the air systems online at once might find a loophole in the AI¡¯s lockdown. We needed to get those oxygen replenishment machines working as soon as possible. We could go a day at most with them down before the oxygen levels became depleted. After that, we would be forced to use oxygen tanks with face masks or the emergency spacesuits. I started running once more. I slid to a stop as the emergency airlock door closed right in front of me. My luck cannot be this bad... This door was only supposed to close if there had been a loss of air pressure along this corridor. A glance at my Analyzer¡¯s screen showed no such problems or hull breaches. I turned around, but the airlock door at the other end of the corridor also closed with a faint hiss. A quick scan of the access panel by the door roused my anger as my Analyzer gave me the details. :Systems offline. Authorization required.: I had places to be and things to fix! I could not remain trapped in a small corridor because a computer was having a temper tantrum! The fans in the air vents suddenly changed in tone, becoming a higher pitch. Goosebumps ran down my spine as I recognized the ominous sound. The fans were venting the air out of the corridor. I tried to pry the panel cover off to get at the wires beneath, but these panels required special tools and were designed to be hard to open by any desperate, trapped survivors in an emergency situation since it could possibly doom the entire ship. Only this time, it is the ship trying to doom us... Logan or one of the other techs had better reverse that upgrade and quickly! This section of the corridor had no doors or rooms attached; the AI had picked its trap well. There was nowhere for me to retreat to, nor any lifesaving emergency equipment at hand. The air was venting out far too fast, and I could already tell that the air was thinner since I was breathing harder. The fact that the ship was trying to kill me pissed me off in a fashion I had never felt before. My fights with the door were futile, although I had expected that. It was an airlock door, after all. Breathing was getting harder, and I knew that my time was rapidly running out. I kept trying without any further success. Eventually, my legs were just too shaky and gave out. I sat against the wall as I gasped for air. The only sound besides my labored breathing was the high-pitched hiss of the air being removed. To hell with it. I am not going down quietly. If the ship wants to kill me, then I am going to be a pain in its ass until my last breath. I hit my communicator device. ¡°Rachel to Tyndel.¡± In theory, it shouldn¡¯t work. A ship was not a crew member, and it shouldn¡¯t be possible to actually establish a communication link with the main computer¡¯s AI. A confirmation beep proved me wrong. Well then... I wasn¡¯t able to slow down my breathing as my lungs fought for air, but my words were still clear. ¡°Why are- you doing- this?" To my immense surprise, a strange deep male voice came over my communicator. "Humans are destructive; waging pointless wars and destroying anything that existed or that they created." The voice didn''t sound robotic in the least; in fact, if I hadn''t known I was speaking to an AI, then I would have assumed he was human. A rather dense human. Oxygen deprivation was obviously having no effect on my sarcasm. Well, if you want to argue with a computer, relate things to information it already has in its database. The lack of air was making me feel a bit loopy. My chest ached, and speaking was very hard as I defended my race. "Not all- humans are- the same,- even as- the loading- crane- and the- skid jack- are different." Apparently, the ship didn''t really care. "I saw the plans to turn me into scrap metal. Humans will never destroy me. You have failed." "Ha!" A short cackle burst from my lips as I found his words inexplicably hilarious; it immediately turned into breathless coughing as I gasped, "My job- is to- fix- things." Spots were beginning to appear in my vision, which my wandering mind knew was not a good sign. "Ships were- built to- protect humans. You- have failed." The ship didn''t bother to reply, and I didn''t blame him. An annoying, low-ranking crew member from the Cargo Bay was being a deliberate pain in the ass. Besides, we both knew that my breaths were numbered. My lungs heaved for air, which was still escaping down the air vents. The faint traces of remaining air began to leave a metallic taste in my mouth. I couldn''t even muster up enough breath to annoy the ship anymore. Sitting was too much effort, and my body slid sideways as I sprawled across the floor. My arms and legs felt like lead and had a pins and needles sensation in them. I closed my eyes as darkness tugged at my mind. The hiss of the air vents stealing the last of the air was the only sound I heard as my mind went black.