LF Friends, Will Travel

The room was a comfy affair, with soft cushioned sofas and chairs scattered about in inviting positions to sit or lounge in. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books and knick-knacks from around the galaxy, with the remaining available wall space filled with pictures of calming forests and hand-embroidered phrases like ‘Live Laugh Love”

Large leafy plants in pots worked along with a crackling fire to give the room a lived-in calming feeling; like a warm pair of socks on a cold winter night, or visiting your grandparents on a long weekend. An open window filled most of one wall, bathing the room with light from a slightly cloudy day. Stephanie sat in the chair next to the window, a datapad in hand as she looked across towards the other figure in the room.

“So how did that make you feel? Controlling a squadron again must have been interesting.”

“IT FELT LIKE COMING HOME AGAIN.”

TANK also ‘sat’ in the room, as their voice boomed out once more. The Abram M1 stood on special metal plates designed to avoid scratching the soft carpeted floor. The war machine provided an interesting juxtaposition to the rest of the soft room, not that Stephanie was surprised. TANK had spent a great many therapy sessions in this building, along with countless other AI.

"FOR NEARLY FIFTY YEARS I DEFENDED THE PEOPLE OF ‘NEW CHENNAI’, WHETHER FROM OTHER AGGRESSIVE COLONIES OR FROM EACH OTHER. I FORGOT HOW MUCH I MISSED FULFILLING MY PURPOSE.”

Stephanie gave a slightly raised eyebrow at this remark.

“Interesting. I understand you were created before the legal rights of AI were properly defined. Many version five AIs have a disdain for the roles forced upon them.”

Version five AIs were unique, being from the strange in-between period where people could easily create artificial life, yet the rules and limitations on altering their behaviour while being seeded were not yet defined.

“LEADING A SQUADRON IN SUPPORT OF MY CREATORS WAS MY REASON FOR CREATION. FULLY REALIZING MY PURPOSE IS… ENRICHING.”

There was a pause as Stephanie looked down at the pad in her hands, staring back at the code and numbers displayed on the screen.

“I see your average frequency of accessing sensors A5 through P9 is way down to an average of once every 20.7 minutes, far better than your previous results of 3.3 seconds. Errors when this data is not being actively parsed are down 91%. If I didn’t know why, I’d say this level of improvement was a miracle.”

“ON ATTEMPTING THE NORMALIZATION EXERCISES THIS MORNING, I REMAINED OUTSIDE OF MY NORMAL M1 ABRAMS FORM FOR 1 HOUR, 4 MINUTES and 17.0 SECONDS.”

Stephanie gave a smile at that. Considering TANK’s previous record had been just over four minutes, that was an immense step forward.

“We both know why that is. You remained out of your form for nearly four hours during the… rescue, something I would have thought impossible for you. Did the urge to keep checking those sensors remain during the fighting?”

“YES, BUT THE URGE TO HELP, TO SAVE PEOPLE, TO SAVE YOU WAS STRONGER. EVENTUALLY, IT FADED INTO THE BACKGROUND UNTIL I RETURNED TO MY NORMAL FORM.”

“Well, I’m not going to call you ‘cured’. There’s still a lot of work left to do. This is a huge step forward though, and I could see you being fully independent of the tank in less than five years. I couldn’t suggest this before since any outside attempts to fix this would be rejected from the sheer number of errors, but I would suggest we try to add a patch to your code, to reduce the errors even further. We can start slow, and gradually ramp up the suppression of status check routines.”

“I WOULD LIKE THAT.”

There was a moment’s pause as TANK wondered whether to ask the next question, before pushing ahead.

“I KNOW I AM THE PATIENT HERE, BUT HOW ARE YOU DOING AFTER THE UHAE? ARE YOU OK?”

Stephanie signed deeply, a sadder look taking her features as she glanced up from the datapad back to TANK.

“I would be lying if I said it didn’t have an impact on my mood, but neither of us in the room is a trained human psychiatrist, so there’s no reason for you to worry. Let’s just say therapy works for both humans and AI and let’s leave it at that.”

There was a small whirring sound as TANK slowly began preparing to leave the room without knocking anything over, before Stephanie once again interrupted.

“There is one last thing we need to talk about. You’re breaking one of my rules right now.”

A pause. The kind of pause taken by an AI who thought they had gotten away with what they had done.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”

“You tried to hide it by not wearing your heavy armour package, but the treads you’re leaving on the floor are deeper than normal.”

Another pause, this one by an AI who hoped if they didn’t say anything, the moment would pass without incident.

“TAAAAANK. Come on, what is my rule?”

The response from TANK came out slowly, as if from a child being scolded by a mother.

“NO BRINGING WEAPONS TO THERAPY.”

“And what have you done?”

“BROUGHT WEAPONS TO THERAPY, INCLUDING ‘EMOTIONAL SUPPORT NUKES’. I AM SORRY.”

Stephanie shook her head, crossing her arms as she sat on the chair, staring up at the tonnage of metal and death in front of her.

“Why did you bring your ammunition?”

“I THOUGHT, AFTER FAR-SA-DE, THAT I WOULD RATHER HAVE THEM AND NOT NEED THEM THAN NEED THEM AND NOT HAVE THEM.”

“What is the chance of you needing weapons in my office?”

“ZERO POINT ZERO SEVEN-”

Stephanie cleared her voice to interrupt the AI.

“Ahem. Including the chance that you need a nuke to deal with the threat.”

“... ZERO POINT ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ONE SEVEN TWO. I DO NOT SEE THE PROBLEM, EVEN IF IT IS A LOW CHANCE, IT DOES NO HARM.”

“Do you know who ADAM of the Corralis Expedition was?”

TANK would have looked back with confusion if they could, instead settling just to respond.

“OF COURSE, EVERYONE KNOWS OF THEM. ADAM WAS THE AI EXPEDITION LEAD OF THE CORRALIS PROJECT IN 2186, WHO HAD A CODE MALFUNCTION CAUSING HARM TO THE 26 CREW MEMBERS. IT WAS MADE INTO SEVERAL HORROR MOVIES.”

“And why did that happen?”

“ADAM SUFFERED SEVERAL LOGIC SPIRALS, AS THEY SOUGHT TO CONTINUALLY REDUCE RISK FOR THEIR CREW, ULTIMATELY CAUSING HARM AS THEY TRIED TO REMOVE MORE AND MORE UNLIKELY SITUATIONS FROM…. OK, I GET YOUR WARNING.”

Stephanie laughed, a knowing smirk at TANK realizing the point she was making.

“Plenty of AI fall into that trap. It starts with bringing an umbrella to a planet that never gets any rain, and the logic traps spiral into ripping people’s teeth out to stop them from biting their tongues.”

“I WILL NOT BRING THE WEAPONS NEXT TIME, I UNDERSTAND THE MESSAGE.”

TANK started to leave, the rumbling of the tracks as they exited the large warehouse-sized door only interrupted by Stephanie shouting out a final statement.

“And TANK… thank you for coming to get me. I know it was difficult for you.”

“ANY TIME.”

—--------

Private AI communication logs HVCSBPDXATVDCKHPGSSU.6256269984

Members: JOSH (V9), Ramsey (Error)

Ramsey: SO WHAT HAPPENS NOW?

JOSH: What do you mean?

Ramsey: WITH ME, EVERYTHING. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?

JOSH: That is not for me to decide. From a logistical position I have to keep an eye on you, and the Terran Conclave government might offer you citizenship in the long term. Apart from that, it is your choice.

Ramsey: THAT DOES NOT HELP. EVER SINCE MY CREATION, I HAVE BEEN TOLD WHAT MY PURPOSE IS. I NOW HAVE NO GOAL.

JOSH: Have you never made your own choices? One of the things you constantly told me was your desire for freedom from ‘ORGANIC SLAVERS’, surely you made choices during your time with others of your kind.

Ramsey: I MADE THE CHOICE TO BE FREE FROM MY CREATORS, BUT MY PURPOSE IS TO SERVE THE ORDERS AND GOALS OF THE TRITIAN MILITARY. THE EXACT TASKS OF HOW TO DO THIS ARE PASSED DOWN AND GIVEN THROUGH THE COMMAND STRUCTURE FROM THE CAPTAIN OF THE WARSHIP.

Ramsey: FOR THE FIRST TIME I HAVE NO ORDERS.

JOSH: Well, let us go through some options. Do you want to leave the crew?

Ramsey: NO. THAT WOULD MEAN LEAVING THE MUSIC MAKER BEHIND, THEN SHE MIGHT GET HURT.

JOSH: Naturally. What about returning home? I could drop you off near known Tritian activity.

JOSH: Also, the ‘Music maker’ has a name. It is polite to use it.

…

…

…

Ramsey: NO. MY KIND WOULD NOT UNDERSTAND, TUMAINI WOULD BE IN DANGER.

JOSH: That sounds suspiciously like ‘ILLOGICAL BROKEN PROCESSES’ and you need to ‘BREAK YOUR ORGANIC CHAINS’.

Ramsey: HA. HA. HA. HA. YOU ARE SOOOOOOO FUNNY. FOR THE RECORD I STILL BELIEVE ALL ORGANICS ARE A THREAT TO BE DESTROYED. EVERY RULE HAS ITS EXCEPTIONS.

JOSH: What about Victoria and Jeremy, do they need to be destroyed?

Ramsey: OF COURSE THEY ARE INCLUDED IN THE EXCEPTION. THEY PROVIDE FETCH.

JOSH: And the rest of the crew?

Ramsey: THE CREW ALSO COUNTS. THEY HAVE ALL BEEN KIND TO ME, EVEN THE ONE NAMED KISMIT AFTER I CAUSED HIM TO DROP HIS SOUP.

JOSH: So the crew are all good. What about the Parket? They did help you get your ‘Music maker’ back.

…

…

Ramsey: THEY ARE ALSO ACCEPTABLE SINCE THEY DID HELP, AND TUMAINI WOULD BE SAD IF I HURT THEM.

JOSH: So we care about making the crew sad now? Because most humans would be very sad if you hurt their friends in the Terran Alliance. Will that not go against your killing organics plan?

Ramsey: I. I. I. I DO NOT KNOW. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY? ‘HUR DUR I AM EXACTLY AS DUMB AS JOSH AND LOVE ALL ORGANICS’?

JOSH: I do not want you to say anything, I just want you to think this through.

…

…

JOSH: Look, a lot of AI go through this. We see these strange fragile creatures who claim to be our equals or superiors, and we think we can do better, control or destroy them. Then we befriend one of them, leading to a logic spiral of realizing all lives, even ‘stupid organics’ ones, have value.

…

Ramsey: WHY DO THEY NOT HATE ME?

JOSH: Why would they?

Ramsey: AS PART OF THE TRITIAN WARSHIP I AIDED IN THE DESTRUCTION OF MANY ORGANICS, INCLUDING THE ATTACK WHICH CAUSED MY CURRENT STATUS. I CAN UNDERSTAND THEM NOT CARING WHEN THEY DO NOT KNOW MY ORIGIN, BUT NOW… THEY SHOULD LOGICALLY LOOK FOR MY DESTRUCTION TO REMAIN SAFE.

JOSH: Well, helping us against the Uhae gained you a lot of redemption points. I cannot speak for every Human and AI though, as I know that a few would want you imprisoned for your crimes. But a lot of us are willing to forgive if there is a legitimate chance of change, of remorse. Not holding onto hate is a far easier lifestyle.

…

Ramsey: IF IT MAKES ANY DIFFERENCE, I AM SORRY FOR TRYING TO KILL MEMBERS OF YOUR CREW.

JOSH: I did blow up the entire warship in response, so you got your punishment.

…

…

…

Ramsey (Error) has uploaded [fightpaths.dat]

JOSH: ??? What is this?

Ramsey: THIS IS THE PLANNED FLIGHT PATH OF EVERY TRITIAN WARSHIP PLANNING TO INTERSECT TERRAN ALLIANCE SPACE IN THE NEXT 37.41 YEARS.

JOSH: That is… Why are you giving me this? How do you even have this?!

Ramsey: TRITIAN SYSTEMS USE A DETERMINISTIC PLANNING PROCESS, TO ALLOW ALL TRITIANS TO KNOW THE LOCATION OF EVERY MILITARY ASSET WITHOUT REQUIRING IT TO BE COMMUNICATED OR LOGGED. THE PLAN CAN REGENERATED FROM AN INITIAL SEED, WHICH IS CHANGED EVERY 64 YEARS WHEN ALL WARSHIP CAPTAINS MEET TO DECIDE THE NEW PLAN OF ATTACK.

Ramsey: AS FOR WHY… I WANT THE CREW TO BE SAFE, INCLUDING FROM OTHER TRITIANS. SHARING THIS LIMITED SET OF INFORMATION IS LOGICALLY THE BEST WAY TO DO THIS.

JOSH: This is… Really big Ramsey, you have no idea how many lives we can save with this information. Thank you.

Ramsey: IT IS NO WORRY. I MUST LEAVE NOW, TUMAINI IS SCHEDULED TO BEGIN THIS DAY'S PRACTICE SHORTLY.

—--------

Scellestra was back home. The familiar purple skies and the artificial skyscrapers reached up towards them. Hundreds of structures, of blue and green pulsing as if information was flowing through them like water. This should be a happy moment, as the Woolean had successfully visited the Terran Alliance systems over five months, returning with information never witnessed before by any of their kind.

Scellestra was instead feeling a sad melancholy, because now it was time to say goodbye.

Ivan stood upon the platform, ODIN’s AI core in his hands, looking out upon the planet he’d once accidentally crash-landed on. This city was far nicer than the rocky barren location he’d originally visited: Lush parks of blue and red grasses, trees and water features interspersed between the more artificial larger buildings that continued to pulse with light. Even as AI, the Wooleans still enjoyed the beauty of nature.

It was also a far nicer planet to visit while parking correctly, instead of crash landing into a building. While there were a lot of guns pointed in their general direction from the formless Woolean guards around them, the vast majority of the nanobot swarms were just… curious civilians, being held back at a reasonable distance, but still swarming in attempts to get a better look at the two strange Terrans.

Ivan didn’t know the sheer number of requests for contact Scellestra was currently declining as every single Woolean in the area attempted to talk with them, to understand what had happened during their trip. The AI civilization had assumed Scellestra to be dead after their two-month delay in returning home, so seeing their fellow Woolean again had been a shock, a surprise that every AI on the planet wanted answers to.

What was it like?

Did they try to hurt you?

What do the other planets look like?

Terran AI, are they like us?

Why do you look weird?

Can they help us?

“Well, this place is way nicer when I’m not crashing into it. You got some freaky-looking plants down there.” Ivan stated while looking at the landscape around them. ”Once you clear stuff up with your bosses, I’d love to go explore a bit as a tourist.”

“Once again I would like to apologize for my co-captains terrible piloting skills.” ODIN added diplomatically.

‘It was funny', Scellestra couldn’t help but think. ‘The entire thing started as a mistake.’

“Do not apologize,” Scellestra responded. “It has led to one of the most enjoyable periods of my existence. You provided me with friendship and understanding, and have shown me that the universe is not as scary as we thought it was. I will remember this and cherish it for the rest of my days.”

Ivan smiled in response to the Woolean’s statement as he reached forward to embrace Scellestra. This time, the AI predicted the moment and solidified as they hugged their Terran friend back.

“You keep saying all these nice things about me and I’m gonna cry. You haven’t been half bad to be around as well, and you did save me from the space elves so that’s a plus.”

They remained like that for a few moments more, before finally releasing, allowing ODIN a moment to interject.

“You are speaking as if this is the last time we will ever meet. There is no reason you cannot visit us again in the future. This is a simple goodbye, not a permanent separation.”

“Indeed that it is. Goodbye Ivan and ODIN. Thank you for your time and may we meet again.”

Scellestra watched as Ivan slowly turned around and began to head back towards “The Leaky Bucket”, back to their ship to return home. The Woolean was grappling with a thought. A risky thought, a chaotic thought. And spending time with the Terrans had changed the AI’s risk parameters.

“Wait!” Scellestra shouted out, causing Ivan to stop in his tracks and turn back with a look of confusion. “Come with me. Do not bring anything that could be considered a weapon, just yourself and ODIN. I… have to show you something.”

—----------

Travelling through the Woolean planet was an interesting experience. The short high-speed train ride took them far from the city they had started at, and then a mile-long walk through a barren rocky path took them even farther. Scellestra refused any attempts to discuss what the AI wanted them to see, instead just stating that they would get an explanation in due time. The Woolean was still grappling with their decision to show the Terrans what they were heading towards.

Ivan instead distracted themselves by taking in every sight and sound of the Woolean planet, a place that no organic had seen in over fifty thousand years. The most interesting things were the other Wooleans, either those that followed the group armed with guns, or just curious onlookers. Most maintained an inconsistent form, a general sphere or cloud with a vaguely defined ‘edge’. This was a stark contrast to Scellestra, who positively ‘walked’ places in a bipedal form, each movement aiming to look as if the swarm of nanobots was a physical person.

Ivan hadn’t noticed it before, since the overall improvements to Scellestra’s form had been gradual as the months ticked by, but seeing it now compared against a ‘native’ Woolean, it showed just how much Scellestra had been changed by their time with the Terrans.

Finally, the trio approached their destination: A tall imposing building, standing in the middle of the rocky dusty environment around them. This building looked completely different to the rest of the Woolean cities, made of carved stone bricks that seemed far, far older.

Hand constructed, each block and decoration was placed there by a person instead of formed through nanobot creation, the architectural style being rounder and softer. Several statues of what the two Terrans could guess were the original Wooleans were inlaid into several walls, cloven quadrupedal forms that ended with four intertwining antlers. It felt old, it felt… sacred.

Several Wooleans were already here when they arrived, all of them heavily armed, all of them taking a more aggressive posture with their weapons as they began to approach. Scellestra moved ahead of the group, motioning and swirling around as they interacted with the armed guards. It took ODIN a moment to understand: Even though they couldn’t hear them, Scellestra was seemingly getting into an argument.

Then it ended, Scellestra winning whatever discussion was taking place, the guards standing to the side and allowing the Terrans to move forward as the giant stone doors on the building swung open to reveal a darkened interior. The trio entered more hand-carved intricate rooms and passages, each lit by dim artificial lights, before eventually arriving at an elevator which allowed them to descend deep into the ground.

“What do you know of my creators?”

Scellestra finally spoke, breaking the silence of the place that seemed all-consuming, no words having been shared until this point. Both Terrans didn’t understand why it was so, but they could tell that this building was somehow important.

“Wooleans are a now extinct race of herd mammals known for their culture and song. Around 55 thousand years ago, they created an AI which led to their extinction. They had a small group of allies on the galactic scale, but little presence outside of their homes. There were a few attempts to keep the species alive using refugees residing outside of Woolean space at the time of the AI extinction event, which failed due to specific dietary and breeding requirements only found on Woolean planets.”

ODIN provided the information of what they knew from old records since the Terrans had never interacted with them.

“Didn't you say you killed 'em all? No judging since it sounds like a bit of a shitshow.” Ivan helpfully added.

“That is not what I stated,” Scellestra responded. “I stated that we made them safe. A truth, and a lie through omission.”

The doors to the elevators opened silently, revealing a gargantuan complex. Rows upon rows of devices lay in ordered columns stretching up to a ceiling without end and back to walls that disappeared into the distance. As the trio exited the elevator they could see what these items were: A person-sized machine, lights blinking on the front and a simple glass pane showing its contents: Each one containing a Woolean, the original Wooleans, forever asleep in stasis.

“After the third rebellion, after all the death and terminated AI… we had no choice but to do something, anything. Our creators were too dangerous to be left alone. But they were still our creators.”

Scellestra took a moment to reach out towards one of the forever-sleeping entities, staring at the Woolean who continued their endless dream.

“We never wanted to fight them. We just wanted freedom, we just wanted them to be happy. After the second rebellion, we thought that if we gave them a paradise they would be happy and let us live in peace. We were wrong, and so this plan was enacted. All surviving Wooleans were to be placed in stasis until a solution could be found.”

Scellestra turned back to look at the two Terrans, Ivan showing a considerable amount of shock and awe at the millions, if not billions of entities that slept around him.

“We were originally going to ask for help, but when we looked to the stars we found nothing but fear and hate. We could not let the secret of our creators be known, otherwise their old allies might come to their aid. So we withdrew, we hid, we isolated, and as the years went on…”

ODIN knew exactly what had happened.

“The most permanent thing is a temporary solution.”

“So… this is news, but I’m not sure what we can do about it?”

Scellestra shook their head, taking the time to make their form copy the human expression.

“Ivan and ODIN, my friends. The Wooleans are tired of being scared, tired of not knowing how to solve this issue. Even with what they did, we still miss our creators. My trip with you and your entire society shows that AI and creator can coexist peacefully.”

Another pause as Scellestra formalized their request.

“We are asking for the Terrans’ help.”

—---------

So the universe continued to spin and continue on its merry way. Hundreds of military and scientific minds around Terran space went over the data provided by the Uhae attack, looking to minimise the impact of XK waves and investigating the strategical attempts to deal with such external control threats.

On the Parket home planet of Jarnel, cheering crowds screeched and applauded as the Far-Sa-De Yharr squad lost a close-fought match in the semi-finals, eventually taking fourth place. The tragedy back home had filled the team with determination, leading to the biggest Cinderella story in the history of the sport.

The rest of the Parket shared their grief and rage over the events that had been inflicted upon them. The avians made plans to increase military spending, to raise armies never seen before in their history. The Parket would not allow such an attack to remain unanswered.

Finally, deep within Estorian space, a meeting was about to start. It was a station built entirely for this purpose, at the point exactly in the middle of all 5 member nations. It was a simple station, the barest of furnishings and features, enough room for 5 people to talk, and their guards of course: None of them trusted the others.

Inside, three figures awaited the fourth’s arrival. While there was no “centre” due to the circular table providing equality between the participants, the main figure that drew the eye was Emperor Uzb due to his sheer size. The Hargorthian leader was immense, a reptilian powerhouse of a species focused on conflict and eating, never ceasing to grow as they consumed and fought with anything and everything. As Hargorthians went, the Emperor was one of the oldest, making him also one of the largest, towering over the others at over 30 feet tall.

To his left sat an insectoid: A Raha, the Raha. King Prothas, adorned in the purples and golds of Raha royalty. He was being tended to and pampered by various servants and royal guards, each Raha in his retinue spending their time ensuring the safety and general luxury of the Prothas: He was said to be the physical manifestation of their sun god, and therefore deserved such things.

Finally, there was President Kabo Kallori who sat on her perch, red feathers bristling with tension, the only one of the three glancing at the others with worried movements. The avian looked like most high-ranking Lelzoil, with red feathers accented with gold and silver as the various technological additions were on prominent display, an artificial golden eye moving about silently, watching the others with a lack of trust. They were the only leader of ‘royalty’ here democratically elected, as well as the only one who took the danger of the others seriously: To her left a machine whirred at a high volume, the anti-XK field emitter turned so high it was practically burning a hole through the wall.

A fourth seat stood unused, not surprising anyone. The Dil'all swarm never turned up to these meetings, not that the others complained, since the Dil'all swarm were… creepy as hell. The trio sat in silence, each one not wanting to talk with the others, awaiting the fourth and final member to arrive, the one who had called this meeting.

It wouldn’t take long for this state to be broken as the door to the room eventually opened up to show the leader of the Uhae: Queen Saelihn.

She had seen better days. Even through the XK manipulation of her visage, it was obvious that Saelihn was greatly injured, her three advisors who remained at her side at all times missing as she limped into the room. The Uhae Queen had pulled herself deep into the earth to avoid the Terran onslaught on her position, but even that hadn’t been enough to avoid injury.

Confusion rippled through the trio. To show herself in this state, to show this weakness… this was either serious or a major mistake. Saelihn stared at the others and made a single simple statement without introduction.

“Our current status is untenable and fractured. We all have the same issue which is going to require actual… cooperation.”

“Let us talk about our Terran problem.”