Quod Olim Erat: The Scuu Paradox (Memory fragment)

Thus is a segment I decided not to include in the upcoming chapter. Since it remains canonic, I’ll share it here. Hope you enjoy! :)

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Classified, Shipyard training cluster, 599.1 A.E. (Age of Expansion)

“When carrying thousands, it’s inevitable that something will go wrong,” the instructor said. “Even the latest generation of nanites and hazard prevention protocols things slip through the cracks, and when carrying thousands or even hundreds of thousands, each slip ends up being a life.”

I ran a dozen combat simulations as I listened. Odds were that the rest of the cohort did the same. It wasn’t that I found the things the instructor was talking about uninteresting—she was one of the few humans who was allowed to talk to us—but I had seen so many feeds of real space that I was becoming eager. Also, human speech was terribly slow. We could finish a thousand conversations in the time it took them to say a word.

“Statistically, it’s inevitable that some of your crew die for no obvious reason.” The sentence sent a disturbing feeling through my core. “It will happen regardless of the precautions you take. I’m here to let you know that’s part of reality you can’t escape, although I know many of you would try.”

I stopped all but two of my combat simulations.

“That is what we’ll focus on today’s training. Each of you will be given a random array of crews. Some of the crewmembers will have psychological or physiological conditions that increase the chances of flatlines.”

As she spoke data bursts started streaming through several of my comm channels. I tried to peek inside, but the data was too heavily encrypted.

“As usual you’ll be running a full simulation of your designed husk,” the woman went on. “There will be no external threats of safety hazard protocols. Just a standard time-slice. As always, your task is to follow the commands of your captain and keep as many people as possible alive. Again, I want to stress there will be deaths so don’t go into a deep diagnostic loop.”

Like I’d do something like that, I smirked mentally.

“The simulated duration of the exercises will last for fire years—the standard assignment length in the fleet. There will be no pauses or stopping the simulation for that duration.”

Talk about an eternity, Aurie transmitted. I ignored her.

“Naturally, the simulation time would be sped up by a factor of ten thousand,” the instructor added. “And, of course, your progress will be monitored every step of the way. Any further questions?”

No one dares stream on the official channel. I didn’t want to be the first one either. Five years didn’t sound like a terribly long period. There was no way I would lose any of my crew for such a short amount of time. Immediately, I started a deep system check on all systems, while also devoting two thirds of my subroutines to monitor every bio data stream from my crew as they materialized in the simulation. According to the fleet resource database, the three most common causes for out of combat death in the fleet were slow nanite rejection, exotic pathogens, and suicide. Brawls and mutinies were also mentioned as serious risk factors, though the likelihood of that happening with me was virtually zero. During the last hundred combat simulations, I had taken the time to devise several life-quality programs that would ensure that my crew would be at optimum health and efficiency.

“What happens if we lose the entire crew?” Aurie asked.

The question made me laugh and cringe simultaneously. What sort of question was that? The only time a ship was supposed to lose the entire crew was after a forced shutdown. Even then, there were patterns and procedures that would ensure that part of the crew survived. Aurie was probably being ridiculous as always, though even so the answer to the question intrigued me.

“Interesting scenario,” the woman said. “How do you think it might occur?”

It was impossible, of course. Even if the captain and all senior officers had a simultaneous mental breakdown, they could be isolated and contained.

“If I was forced to do it.”

Aurie’s reply sent chills through me, more painful than any simulated mission loss.

“That’s an interesting take,” The instructor laughed. This was the first time I heard such unadulterated laughter from anyone. “You’ve got an interesting thought pattern, Aurora. Don’t worry, you won’t be put in such a situation. Other questions?”

No one else did. I ran a deep analyses of the instructor’s tone variations, matching it to my current behavior database. By all indications she had found the question intriguing and amusing. Also, her following assurance seemed genuine. Even so I three dozen behavior matrixes searching for conditions in which I could turn against my crew. A hundred and twelve microseconds later, I stopped them. Even with ninety five percent of my subroutines dedicated to the task I failed to see a possible scenario of this ever occurring.

Commencing simulation.