Synthesis - James Swallow [29]
“We’re using a low-power laser as a means of data transfer,” explained Sethe.
“I’ve sent through a basic speech-interface matrix in packeted pulses,” Dakal broke in. “I started with standard linear objective linguacode authoring text, and it learned that very rapidly…” He paused. “I think we’re good to go.”
“It is listening to everything we say and do,” Chaka noted.
“Let’s get started.” Riker said the words quietly. He advanced toward the forcefield, and all of Keru’s crew tensed. “My name is Captain William Riker, of the United Federation of Planets. You’re aboard my ship, the U.S.S. Titan. This is my diplomatic officer, Commander Deanna Troi. We mean you no harm. We only wish to speak with you.”
The device emitted a buzzing pulse of feedback that made everyone wince. The sound was grating and disordered, as if the device had no concept of communicating in this fashion and was finding its way by trial and error. After a long moment, something like human speech began to surface from the garble of static.
“Why. Why why. Diiiiid. Why. Why. Am. Speak.”
Deanna gave her husband a sideways glance. The voice resembled his but with a peculiarly off-kilter syntax. “I think it’s sampling you,” she said from the side of her mouth.
Immediately, it mimicked her as well. “I. I. Think think think. I.”
“I’ve uploaded a linguistic framework,” said Dakal. “It should normalize in a moment.”
“Captain. William-Riker.” The pulses of light flickered wildly with each word uttered, becoming calmer in the pauses. “Interrogative. Question. Enquiry. Why? Why why? Am I a captive?”
“No,” Riker held up a hand. “That was not our intention.”
“You removed me by force. Took. Stole. Interrogative: Why was this done?”
“We were not aware of your nature,” he continued. “We wanted to learn more about you.”
“If you want to leave this ship, we can arrange that,” offered Deanna. “You’re a guest, not a prisoner.”
“You have isolated me. This is an act of aggression.”
“We did that for our safety as much as yours. The… discharge you sent out before was potentially lethal. We couldn’t be sure of your intentions.”
“I… comprehend. Failure of communication leads to error state, misreading of objective. This will not occur again.” The device crackled. “I am. Identifier: SecondGen White-Blue, iteration of the Sentry Coalition. Active mobile, status… undetermined. Damaged. Lost.”
Deanna’s brow furrowed. Was she imagining it, or was there a faint emotional content beneath the broken speech pattern? The tonality of the words seemed to express fear and doubt.
“My crew will do what we can to help you,” said Riker. “When we entered this area, we discovered the remains of your vessel. You suffered heavy damage.”
“Shipframe status: inoperable,” it agreed. “Multiple function train interrupts. System failure. Contact lost. Contact lost.”
“Our people boarded your… shipframe,” Deanna ventured. “Why did you attack them?”
“Negative,” insisted the machine. “System was in error condition. Autonomic drones, countermeasures did not respond to command protocols. Reverted to reflexive order pattern. Isolate intruders and neutralize.” There was another buzzing pulse. “This was not intentional.”
“Then why did it shut off when you were disconnected?” Keru couldn’t stop himself from throwing in the question.
The device—what did it call itself, White-Blue?—buzzed for a moment. “Disconnection leads to assumed neural crash state. Hot shutdown. All systems off-line. Hibernative mode engages.” It paused and then spoke again. “Process: confirmation of hypothesis is required. You are organic intelligent forms.”
“Yes. These are my crew,” Riker told it. “You said you were part of a ‘coalition’? So are we, an association of worlds from another part of the galaxy. We’re explorers, mapping this region. That’s how we came to find the wreckage of your vessel.”
“Multiple biological vectors, different species-race-gender