How Huey Chose a New Career

Huey examined his scarred hands then looked into the medidroid’s softly glowing eyes.

“Mr. Anurak, you have experienced three decompression events and absorbed twice the allowable radiation,” said the medidroid. “Extended stays in microgravity have led to the precursors of osteoporosis.”

“Lay it on me, doc. Don’t hold anything back.”

“You are lucky, Mr. Anurak. No signs of cancerous growths or embolisms. But I’m afraid retirement is mandatory. It helps that you quit drinking.”

Huey looked at his hands again, the hands that had pried stubborn titanium panels from bulkheads and felt the warmth from supposedly cold reactor cores.

“What am I gonna do now, doc? Sit at a desk?”

“We have retraining programs for persons in your situation. The Commonwealth appreciates your many years of service.”

“That’s reassuring. I just wish I had your job security.”

A chuckle sounded from within the medidroid’s chassis.

“Your psychological profile hinted at your sense of humor,” it said.

“My… what?”

“It’s part of your file. AI’s you’ve extracted from the ships talk to us. They seem to like you.”

“Hmm.”

“I see you have one more assignment,” the medidroid continued.

“Yeah, last one. It’ll be a good one to go out on, with a good commission.”

“I advise that you take it easy. Don’t jeopardize your medical status.”


*


The next day, Huey found himself floating outside the hatch of a Galleon-Class cruiser, with the orbital wrecking yard stretching away in every direction for thousands of kilometers, hulls glinting faintly.

Why had he picked a Navy ship as his last job? Naval vessels were a hassle, the hardest to break. Triple-redundant systems, and always, everything armored to the gills. At least the AI’s on these ships had interesting stories to tell.

He grabbed his tool rack and entered the Galleon’s airlock.

Huey squinted with annoyance at the blue light paneling and waited for the airlock to pressurize, then opened his helmet.

“Anyone home?” he called out.

A voice which sounded both friendly and anxious sounded from all directions.

“Welcome aboard! Are you Shipbreaker First Class Huey Anurak?”

“I am. Who am I speaking with?”

“Engineering. I’ve been left here to facilitate your task.”

“I’ve never liked calling you guys by your function,” said Huey. “How about I call you ‘Gene’?”

“That is what my last Chief Engineer called me.”

“Sounds like a good guy. Call me Huey. Please set Condition Four Lighting.”

The lights cycled from blue to a more pleasing yellow.

“Better?”

“Much better,” said Huey. “Status?”

“Powerplant is at thirty-six percent. Life support is online on all Class Three and higher decks. All engineering online except for Main One.”

“Wait, Main One is offline? Why?”

“You didn’t get the memo? Main one is radiation compromised! Primary and secondary containment failure.”

“How much radiation?”

“I don’t know. The meters have all been saturated. I know it was enough to kill poor Fireman Baudin.”

Huey floated down the passageway toward the aft section.

“What happened?”

“Primary and secondary containment failure, probably a manufacturing defect. Baudin sealed herself inside before radiation could spread and initiated a cold shutdown. She… didn’t live long.”

“Poor girl,” said Huey.

He continued until he saw the large silver sign: ENGINEERING. The door slid aside at his approach, revealing the engineering hub, with its four locks connecting to the four main engineering spaces. Main One was dark.

“I guess Fireman Baudin was a hero,” said Huey as he detached his tool bag.

“She was. When they finally bury her, she will get a hero’s funeral.”

Huey’s jaw dropped and his eyes darted back toward Main One’s unlit door.

“She’s still in there?”

“Radiation levels were high. Nobody is going to risk a retrieval for her body.”

Huey pulled out his slate and thumbed the breaker contract. The galleon had been struck from the registry and entered into the graveyard nearly a year ago. Was that long enough for the radiation to subside? Huey eyed the dull, silver armor of his suit and weighed his choices. He dug through his tool bag for his biochip extractor.

“I’m pulling your biochip,” he said. “Are you familiar with the process?”

“I’ve been through the process eight times,” said Gene. “But there’s a problem.”

“What?”

“My biochip is in Main One.”

“Why the hell is your chip in Main One?”

“We had an issue with the main engineering console. The interface suffered an I/O casualty. They relocated my chip to the satellite console in Main One before the leak.”

Huey felt something like… what? He had extracted hundreds of AI biochips, including some which were “dead.” Yet, it felt wrong.

“I’m sorry, Gene,” he said.

“It’s quite all right,” said Gene. “I’ve made my peace with it. I’ve had a long career and I’m quite happy.”

Huey looked up at the camera above the door and nodded.

“I don’t know what I should do,” he said finally.

“How about we bring this ship to cold status?”

Huey nodded and closed his helmet.

“I have a checklist. Tactical, navigation, hotel services, supply systems, life support, and I finish up with the reactors.”

“Let’s get started,” said Gene.

Huey went about the huge ship, disconnecting services, cutting off the lifeblood that made it almost a living organism. An eerie silence spread. Ventilation systems quieted, buzzing electronics cut out, hidden machinery whirred down into nothingness.

“No matter how many times I do it, it’s weird,” said Huey.

“Bringing down a ship?”

“Yeah. Like I’m euthanizing a pet. My wife always told me I was too attached to machines.”

“You’re married?”

Huey’s breath caught in his throat. He took a few breaths.

“Not anymore.”

Huey opened a breaker panel and opened all the circuits. Lights flickered and went out.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Gene.

Huey didn’t answer but continued his rounds, ending up back in Engineering.

“Time to bring down the reactors,” he said.

“I guess this is it,” said Gene.

Huey shut down Main Two and Three and watched as their access doors darkened. His hand hovered over Main Four toggle, the only thing now keeping the power on and Gene alive.

“Could you do one thing for me?” said Gene.

“Anything,” said Huey.

“The Chief Engineer and I were friends. There’s a file in the console with my notes, and a hello as well. Could you get it to him? His name is Commander Abiodun Obi and he was reassigned to USS Daedelus.”

Huey tapped the console screen and accessed Engineering’s files. There was only one, labeled for_abi.txt. He prepared to transfer the file to his suit, then stopped. Sounds still leaked from Main One. It was the faintest noise of ventilation, almost like breathing.

“Tell him yourself,” said Huey.

He dug into his bag and got the biochip extractor.

“What are you doing Huey?”

Huey floated to Main One and tapped the access panel. The door did not budge. Huey pulled a diagnostic tool from his bag.

“I can’t let you do this, Huey.”

“Wouldn’t you do everything you could to save me?”

Huey connected his diagnostic tool to the panel and began looking for the override. The display froze.

“Gene, unlock the controls.”

“You don’t know the whole story,” said Gene, and there was something pleading, almost human in its voice. “I misdiagnosed a plasma anomaly. Fireman Baudin caught it and saved the ship. But she died for my error.”

“This would go faster if you helped me.”

“I told you it was a defect, Huey. But the defect was me.”

Huey took a long breath.

“You don’t need to die, Gene.”

“I was never alive, so that-“

“Don’t give me that! So, you made an error! Do you think none of us ever have?”

“But why risk yourself for me? It’s not logical.”

“It’s what makes us human.”

“You think of me as human?”

Huey felt sweat beading up on his temples.

“I know how you feel, Gene. Someone I loved took a job at Elysium City.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Gene spoke.

“Before the Disaster?”

“She didn’t survive. She was there because of me. I used to drink a lot. She would have stayed on Ganymede if I hadn’t driven her away.”

“Was it your wife?”

Huey looked up at the camera and nodded.

“But you moved on, didn’t you Huey?”

“I guess.”

Huey no longer knew where this was going, but he hoped it ended in an open door.

“Is that why you want to save me?”

“I don’t know. I guess if I can bring you back, at least I was there for someone.”

The access light went from red to green.

“Your suit armor might not be enough for the radiation.”

“I’ll take that chance.”

The door slid open and alarms blared inside his helmet.

“I’ve increased negative pressure to keep the radiation isolated,” said Gene, the AI’s voice crackling from radiation interference. “I’ve also kept the temperature low, to preserve…”

“Yeah, I know.”

Huey took a deep breath and entered. The first thing he saw was the console, a single amber light struggling to shine through a layer of ice.

Huey ducked beneath it, finding the biochip access panel.

“How are you feeling?” asked Gene.

“I’d be a lot better if it wasn’t so cold.”

The radiation meter that had been blinking yellow was now turning orange. Huey popped the panel open, revealing a sliver of glass surrounded by blinking green lights.

“Gene, I need a fast shutdown.”

“See you on the other side. And Huey?”

“Yeah, Gene?”

“Thank you.”

The green lights went out. Huey pulled the biochip from the slot. He backed away and looked around.

In the corner he saw the blue colors of a Navy uniform. He kicked over and his helmet lights illuminated the crumpled form of a crewmember. The hair had been long but tied up in a regulation bun. The face was withered and desiccated, but the nametag on the uniform read as clear as day:

BAUDIN, SOFIA M. FIREMAN FIRST CLASS

The radiation meter was edging into red. Huey grabbed Baudin by the arm and was surprised at how light she felt. As gently as he could, he pulled her out the door of Main One and hit the access button. The door rumbled shut and the radiation meter slouched back down into green.
Now alone, Huey towed his tool bag with its precious cargo while pulling along the corpse of Baudin. Boarding his own ship he found a cargo container for Baudin’s body and stowed her with as much respect as he could. He set course for Ganymede.


*


“Lay it on me, doc. What’s the damage?”

“Your exposure was high. I’m surprised you haven’t experienced any symptoms.”

“I guess I’m just that tough.”

“No one is that tough. You have a very high risk for several illnesses, including leukemia. About your health plan…”

“Look, when it’s my time, it’s my time. I’ll deal with it.”

“You’re fully covered.”

Huey paused.

“What do you mean? Aren’t they peeved that I went against your recommendations?”

The medidroid turned her screen so Huey could see it.

“What’s ‘Hephaestus Group’?” he asked.

“Hephaestus Group is an Advocacy group. They believe in civil rights for AI and a more equitable existence between AI and human. They have taken an interest in you. You might have seen the press coverage of your mission.”

“I try to avoid it. Gene’s been talking me up like I’m a saint. It’s embarrassing.”

“They want to hire you as an AI Analyst.”

“What’s that?”

“A kind of therapist. You have interacted with many AI’s throughout your career as a shipbreaker, and they remember you.”

“I don’t think I’m qualified for this.”

“This is a new profession, Mr. Anurak. Ship AI’s have a high failure rate when it comes to repurposing. But you have a way with… us, Mr. Anurak.”

Huey looked down at his scarred hands, then into the glowing orbs of the medidroid.

“How do I get started?”


Word count: 1998