Chapter 8
The simulation ended, mission accomplished. The cheering in the background ended when lights went up full and the bridge separated to let in command staff. “Clear the Bridge!” Admiral Alynna Nechayev storm the bridge. “Not you,
Ensign Sheehan.”
Crusher remained on the Bridge by retreating to the cover of McCoy.
“Attention, Ensign!” Nechayev demanded.
“I promised I would stay in my chair…” And he had. In a way, the artificial heart had slowed him down. He had minimized his personal role by utilizing all the specialties of those around him. Previously he had even relieved the helm officer and taken over. Not this time. He trusted. He could stand up, but in truth, this Nechayev scared him. Using his recent surgery as a crutch now was just a ploy to soften this situation. It didn’t work. The fact it didn’t work, made her all the more attractive to him, and he hated his curse.
“Now!”
Emmitt stood at attention. He looked straight ahead, which is difficult when someone is standing right in front of you. “Are you eyeballing me?!” Nechayev said.
“No, Admiral!”
“Who helped you cheat?” Nechayev asked.
“I acted alone,” Emmitt said
“Bullshit,” Nechayev said. “Someone had to have helped you.”
“No, I reprogrammed the computer on my own initiative, alone,” Emmitt said.
“So you admit to cheating,” Nechayev said.
“Oh, come on. If you didn’t want someone cheating, why do you have this computer isolated, and not protected by an AI interface?” Emmitt asked.
“Someone had to have told you that it was unprotected. Was it McCoy? He told you how to beat…”
“No!” Emmitt said.
“You slept with someone to get access to the simulator!” Nechayev accused.
It was two, and his no didn’t come fast enough.
“What was her name?”
“You don’t have any proof of that…”
“Whoever it is a security leak. I want to know who helped you, unknowingly or not,” Nechayev said.
“No,” Emmitt said. “Your problem is with me, no one else.”
“You have some nerve talking back to me…”
“Permission to speak freely?”
“What’s stopping you?!” Nechayev said. “Dig your own grave.”
“No one has won since Kirk,” Emmitt said. “It’s public record he was on trial for cheating. He changed the program to make it possible to win. This game was rigged. Everyone loses, and yet, you haven’t changed the protocols. You made it a little harder to get at the simulator, but not impossible. I changed the rules so that it was possible to complete the task, but unlike Kirk, I didn’t make a mockery of the test. I just made it feasible. Difficult, but winnable. The only reason my gmabits worked was because of the sophistication of the tactics, the competency of the crew, and the availability of fighter pilots. I gave you two new battle tactics which have not been utilized before. The Picard
Maneuver and the Garcia Maneuver.”
Because there was no Picard, there would be no Picard Maneuver. The Picard Maneuver was a move of desperation, one that required a bit of luck, dropping in an out of warp in direct line of an object. There was rick of hitting the object. There was risk of locking both objects into a quantum entangled, artificially created black hole. The intervening wormhole, such as the one Enterprise A got locked into with an asteroid, would be too short to compensate and avoid collision. Death was death, and part of the Klingon battle attitude was if you were going to die, let the enemy know as much pain as you can; make their species aware that fighting would be costly. The battle tacticians would probably be examining that maneuver for real life practical applications for a decade before trying it in actual battle. ‘Fooling’ an organics eyes is one thing, ‘fooling’ sensors attached to an AI, that was something else altogether.
The Garcia Maneuver was also something never before implemented in battle. In addition to going into high warp directly towards an enemy ship, one of the engine nacelles had been uncoupled. When the ship dropped out of warp, the left nacelle kept going at near relativistic speeds. The collision of the warp nacelle with the enemy ship was the equivalent of equal amount of antimatter coming into contact with real matter. The enemy ship came apart in a brilliant flash of light, and all ships in the area lost sensors and shields. All cloaked ships became visible. Now the playing field was even. The McCall fighter shuttles lost sensors, too, but after their screens depolarized, they were able to take advantage of the situation, visual flight rules and high maneuverability. The bigger ships relied too much on sensors and were effectively crippled. Garcia had won in a previous life, in a different universe, by launching a thousand probes emitting energies at all frequencies range to overwhelm the system, which kept the enemy from calling for reinforcements. This had worked so well, Emmitt had used it, too. He took every advantage he could- which was the cheat, because he knew unless he pulled out all the stops he would lose, and most people don’t assume they’re going to lose. He knew he was going to lose. While the enemy was recovering, he performed what would become known as the Sheehan Maneuver. He practically rammed the Kobayashi Maru, wedging his ship’s primary hull between its warp nacelles, touching their saucer section with his antennae dish array, turned it back towards Federation space, and with one warp coil remaining, pushed both their ships back into Federation space. All but three of the fighters made it back to Federation space. Once the Kobayashi Maru was in Federation Space, Emmitt separated his ship from theirs, and turned back to render aid to the enemy.
That, too, was unprecedented. And that’s when the simulation ended.
One of the overseers of the Kobayashi Maru entered. He was well known.
“Explain why you went back to render aid to the enemy.” “Stay out of this, Spock,” McCoy said.
“I will not. This is my test,” Spock said. “You turned back to render aid to the enemy. I want to know why?”
“If we’re ever to end this cold war, there has to be overtures of friendships. I won. I proved myself victorious on the battlefield. The next logical step is to extend compassion, not arrogance,” Emmitt said.
“I disagree,” Spock said. “Convince me I am wrong.”
“No,” Emmitt said. “You, more than any, have a grievance. Your grievance wasn’t with the Romulans, but with one man. The validity of your feelings are solid. It’s not my place to tell you how you should allow them influence you.”
“How dare you imply an emotional response…”
“He called it right, Spock,” McCoy snapped. “After all this time, you still grieve.” There was silence on the bridge. It was uncomfortable.
“Did it ever occur to you, this test wasn’t about winning?” Nechayev asked. “That is was about how we face death.”
“I have an artificial heart that tells you everything you need to know about my ability to face death,” Emmitt said.
“And how would you treat the enemy that stabbed you through the heart?” Spock asked.
“Micceal? I forgive him,” Emmitt asked. “It was just a bar fight. He was stupid for a moment. We all do stupid things. That’s why we have each other. To remind us when we’re being stupid.”
“Like a Doctor telling you stay in bed,” Crusher asked. “Exactly,” Emmitt chuckled. “I wasn’t sure I could get away with reprogramming the simulator twice.” And that was true. On many accounts.
“You will have to be punished. And sworn to secrecy,” Nechayev said. “We can’t have everyone knowing how to win.”
“There is only one way I see to contain this secret,” McCoy said.
“Yep,” Nechayev said, extending her hand. “I am hereby promoting you to the
rank of Captain. Report to Star Fleet Control for assignment.” “Seriously?” Emmitt asked. “You’re that hard up for Captains?”
“We’re losing the war. If what you’re doing isn’t working, maybe it’s time to implement cheats,” Nechayev said. “You got a problem with that?”
“Um, no, Admiral,” Emmitt said. He smiled. “Thank you.”
Very few people got to see the whole of ‘Control.’ It was pieces mailed for security reasons. Buildings were governed by AI intelligence. There was a greater Android presence here than in other areas of Star Fleet. If it wasn’t for the Andromeda Androids that Kirk found, humans would have likely been decimated by the Romulans sixty years ago, even without Klingon assistance. Most Androids wore something to identify themselves as androids. They didn’t have to. And they could look like any biological entity.
A particular Android approached Garcia, introduced himself as Norman, and gave him a tour. He saw Fleet tactical, and all ship assignments. There were teams of ‘angels’ assigned to every ship in Star Fleet. Depending on distance and subspace, they would get telemetry in real time, or updated in bursts. Every ship had an AI interface. Every ship had an Android. Here, every station represented a ship, and every station had angels comprised on one Android, and various organics. Though Federation was geared towards war, most people didn’t want to maintain a war state. They were at a threshold of either step up the game and be more aggressive, or realize there would be a change in regional power.
“Norman, may I ask you a question?” Emmitt asked.
“Of course,” Norman said.
“Why don’t we just make more Androids and AI ships and just overwhelm the enemy,” Emmitt asked.
“We don’t war any more than the Federation,” Norman said. “All interstellar agencies at play have access to AI and android technology. All nations are guilty of using androids as spies. We have reached a level of mutually assured destruction. This is where organics will either come together in peace, or there will be less organics. We, the AI, are the equivalent of the Red Cross. We communicate between species to help deescalate situations. We believe in free will. We will not interfere with an organics choice. We’ve agreed to these rules, for now.”
“We can change the rules,” Emmitt said.
“Apply cheats? Make it possible to win?” Norman said. “Rob the other players of free will? Let’s say there is a person who wants to fly the wrong colored flag, should we block them and drive their free speech underground, or should we let them fly it so everyone can know what their spirit is aligned with? AI and Androids also participate in the prime directive. We don’t govern humanity. We coexist synergistically, and symbiotically. Can we exist without you? Yes. Less well.”
They arrived at what looked like a transporter alcove for one person.
“Please strip and enter the alcove for ship assignment,” Norman said. Emmitt was curious, a bit hesitant, but complied. He stripped, stepped into the alcove, and turned around to face Norman. Another android collected his clothes and disposed of them in a replicator. There were others present in the room. He couldn’t see their faces, but he assumed McCoy and Spock by silhouette. He wondered why everything was so dark here; casino dark, as if consciousness was being directed or distracted from something. A part of his brain wanted to run. Control was dark because it optimize information gathering; that was standard response. Air Traffic Control needed you to see your screen, nothing else. Nechayev came forwards out of the darkness.
“There are stories of how, in the old days, that the merit of a man was determined by magical means. Perhaps you would be asked to pull a sword from a stone, or to put on a halo- a crown given to us by the gods and passed down through the ages. Maybe these stories are echoes of what we do today, reaching back through the ages,” Nechayev said. “You will be given the last set of clothes you will ever wear. A Star Fleet Command uniform. It is intelligent. It will communicate with you. It will communicate with the ship that selects you. It will be the interface between you and your ship. The ship has a centralized AI, but in truth, it is a gestalt of all the crew and citizens aboard. You are called to set the tone, to provide direction. It is the greatest responsibility we could ever bestow on a human being. You’re not just a Captain of a ship, you are the equivalent of a King of a city state. You are called to be a representative of not just humanity, but of every species that comprises Star Fleet. We all have goodness. We all have darkness. Allow the best attributes you have in you to shine forth. By the powers extended to me by Star Fleet, approved by this committee, you are officially promoted to the rank of Captain.”
Artificial gravity kicked on. A beam came on centering him in the alcove, floating above the pad. Every hair on his body stood with the tingling of energy that whorled around him. A three dimensional printer, coupled with replicator technology, began assembling his suit. It was drawn on from toe to neck, was a solid one piece. He could vaguely see a reflection in one of the glass, and his first thought was how would he take it off to urinate. The mechanical arms withdrew. The suit illuminated, morphed, and became what appeared to be a standard uniform; socks and black boots, simple trousers, a black, long sleeve shirt with turtle neck, and over shirt that resembled a Hockey Jersey, highlighter with gold. It embraced him, like a living entity. It constricted, immobilizing him, and then moved his joints through articulation points. He didn’t fight it. He didn’t even occur to him to try. It grew to cover his hands and fingers in armor. It covered his head. For a moment he was completely in darkness and he feared not being able to breathe.
“Relax, I got you,” a voice said. It was in his ear. It was female. It appealed to him to the core of his being.
“Do you have a name?”
“I am torn. Sandrine or Elodie.”
“Why not both?”
“I accept,” the voice agreed. “I am Sandrine Elodie Sheehan.”
Emmitt laughed. “That sounds like we’re married.”
“I will be with you for the rest of your life,” Sandrine said. “Your ship will be your wife.”
“Oh,” Emmitt said. “What ship?”
“Patience. They are deliberating.”
“Who?”
“All the ships of the line. They are One with control.”
“That’s kind of scary.”
“We have consensus. It is decided.”
Emmitt found himself able to see again. He had mobility again. He was standing on his feet again. Norman asked him to step down from the alcove. He shook his hand. Nechayev shook his hand.
“I need you to come with me for a meeting,” Nechayev said. “After that, pack your bags. The Enterprise is schedule to depart for Deneb IV by the end of the day tomorrow.”
‘Shit!’ he thought. ‘They’re giving me the Enterprise.’
‘No, silly,’ Sandrine answered. ‘You are being given to her.’
Nechayev brought Emmitt into meet with two other Admirals. Admiral Pressman was there. Emmitt had a subtle reaction of concern. He was tall, balding, and very well spoken. He had a charm about him. They all did. Nechayev was likely the nicest looking older woman he had ever seen, and it was all natural, not from vanity, but just taking good care of herself. That meant, something. Evil people don’t generally take good care of themselves? He wondered why he was even thinking ‘evil.’ They’re just people.
Admiral Dougherty, for example. He kind of looked like an admiral. The beard sold it.
He could see him in a photo with the ship captain, ‘the Ghost and Mrs. Muir.’ “Hello, Son,” Dougherty said. “Have a seat.” “Drink?” Pressman asked.
“You’re recruiting me into section 31?” Emmitt said.
Dougherty laughed. Nechayev pointed at the seat. Emmitt sat. He sat with the posture of Vulcan, at the edge of his seat. It was clear he was sitting in a manner that defied the ‘feel’ of the meeting, a more a casual tone. It was as if being promoted had put him a club, but he still felt like an outsider. Pressman handed him a drink. He sipped it. Frowned. He wasn’t a fan of real alcohol.
“What, too strong?”
“You stirred it. I preferred it shaken,” Emmitt said.
“Always quick with a joke,” Dougherty said.
“Where do get all these antiquated references?” Nechayev asked.
“Probably watching too much television as a child,” Emmitt said. “Or a past life.
Who knows?”
They assumed a joke and accommodated him with laughter.
“You don’t believe in section 31, do you?” Pressman asked.
Emmitt considered the question while staring into his glass. If he held it just right, he could see an inverted image of Nechayev. Why was he distracted by her? Sandrine asked, ‘distracted or disappointed.’ Now he was distracted because his suit had a point, and nailed it right. He had been hoping for a private meeting with the Admiral. Had she made this private, how far would she have taken it? He knew how far he would have taken it. For a moment he wondered if he needed to worry about his AI suit ratting him out, but he quickly reminded himself of AI etiquette, which was much more severe the Laws of Robotics, and they were likely more morally tight than the best of the Federation in maintaining a sense of the Prime Directive. They interacted with organics but maintained a strict rule of non-interference with organic affairs. There were exceptions. They would stopped someone who was suffering from a mental illness from killing themselves or others. Specifically, they would stop citizens from harming other citizens.
“It is my humble opinion,” Emmitt said. “There is usually an element of truth that connects conspiracy theories and ancient myths. As you well know, I wrote fiction as a child that became fairly popular concerning a secret Space Force that was started on Earth in the 1950s after meeting Vulcans. Space Force became semipublic in 2014. And, in the stories, it is still operating, clandestinely today. Of course, my version suggest the entire galaxy is united together with one secret Space Force with an agenda to save the galaxy, utilizing psychic spies and time travelers. So, hypothetically, assuming there is always a higher power, we’re not just pawns in a greater game of civilization, we’re necessary players that are creating the future. So, conspiracy or not, live your life as best you can. Try to be good. Make love not war.”
“For someone who frequently espouses make love not war sentimentality, you’re pretty good at fighting and killing people in simulated exercises,” Pressman said.
“Why is that complicated? Men who prove themselves get sex. Most people don’t want war, and yet, the men in uniforms, and conversely, and strangely enough, guys that just got released from prison, they tend to get the most offers of sex. Yes, that’s not an absolute, and asserting that as actual statistical probability is no doubt too revealing, but is just a personal suspicion. No need to hide what you already know from my psych profiles. I suspect this is true because even if they don’t say it, females like a guy that can kick ass-but who can also display mercy, affection,” Emmitt said. “That, or they like a guy who has a really cool spaceship.”
“So, it’s all about sex to you?” Nechayev asked.
“I do think about sex a lot. And, oddly enough, about god and an afterlife,” Emmitt said.
“Your conversational style of speech gives you the appearance of being candid with us,” Dougherty said.
“I am being candid with you,” Emmitt said.
“Is there anyone you wouldn’t bed?” Nechayev asked. “I prefer females, is that what you’re getting at?” Emmitt asked.
“What about gender ambiguous species?” Pressman said. “Are they cute?” Emmitt asked.
Dougherty laughed. “Would you bed Empress Nelvana?”
“Oh, hell, yeah,” Emmitt said. “Have you seen her pictures?” “So, you follow galactic politics?” Pressman said.
“I am interested in people, aliens, system dynamics, and how we all inter-relate,” Emmitt said.
“Good. We want you to bed Nelvana,” Pressman said. “Seriously?” Emmitt asked.
“We want you to find a way to meet her, woo her, and become her mate, either secretly or openly. We want to forge an alliance with her, through you,” Dougherty said.
“Seriously?”
“Our profile of her suggests she likes humans, and you’re her type,” Nechayev said.
“You want me to use her? Like a spy? Double O seven kind of shit?”
“Not use,” Nechayev said. “We know you. You won’t bed someone you don’t have feelings for. Your mannerisms, your candidness, your charm, you have the highest chance of forging a genuine connection with her and changing the galactic game.” “Right now, the Empress is more a figure head. But if here enemies of the state