«I don’t know if any of you have noticed it yet, but the ship’s reduced our internal electrical power consumption by ten percent.»
Mild perplexity.
«Ten percent?»
«Why?»
«I haven’t noticed any reduction.»
The redhead waved his hands vaguely as he replied, «It’s mostly in peripheral areas. Your microwave ovens, for example. They’ve been powered down ten percent. Lights in unoccupied areas. Things like that.»
Curious, Ignatiev asked, «Why the reduction?»
His squarish face frowning slightly, the engineer replied, «From what Alice tells me, the density of the gas being scooped in for the generator has decreased slightly. Alice says it’s only a temporary condition. Nothing to worry about.»
Alice was the nickname these youngsters had given to the artificial intelligence program that actually ran the ship. Artificial Intelligence. AI. Alice Intellectual. Some even called the AI system Alice Imperatress. Ignatiev thought it childish nonsense.
«How long will this go on?» asked one of the biologists. «I’m incubating a batch of genetically-engineered alga for an experiment.»
«It shouldn’t be a problem,» the engineer said. Ignatiev thought he looked just the tiniest bit worried.
Surprisingly, Gregorian piped up. «A few of the uncrewed probes that went ahead of us also encountered power anomalies. They were temporary. No big problem.»
Ignatiev nodded but made a mental note to check on the situation. Six lightyears out from Earth, he thought, meant that every problem was a big one.
One of the psychotechs cleared her throat for attention, then announced, «Several of the crew members have failed to fill out their monthly performance evaluations. I know that some of you regard these evaluations as if they were school exams, but mission protocol—»
Ignatiev tuned her out, knowing that they would bicker over this drivel for half an hour, at least. He was too optimistic. The discussion became quite heated and lasted more than an hour.
Once the meeting finally ended Ignatiev hurried back to his quarters and immediately looked up the mission logs of the six automated probes that had been sent to Gliese 581.
Gregorian was right, he saw. Half of the six probes had reported drops in their power systems, a partial failure of their fusion generators. Three of them. The malfunctions were only temporary, but they occurred at virtually the same point in the long voyage to Gliese 581.
The earliest of the probes had shut down altogether, its systems going into hibernation for more than four months. The mission controllers back on Earth had written the mission off as a failure when they could not communicate with the probe. Then, just as abruptly as the ship had shut down, it sprang to life again.
Puzzling.
«Alexander Alexandrovich,» called the AI system’s avatar. «Do you need more information on the probe missions?»
He looked up from his desk to see the lovely female face of the AI program’s avatar displayed on the screen above his fireplace. A resentful anger simmered inside him. The psychotechs suppose that the face they’ve given the AI system makes it easier for me to interact with it, he thought. Idiots. Fools.
«I need the mission controllers’ analyses of each of the probe missions,» he said, struggling to keep his voice cool, keep the anger from showing.
«May I ask why?» The avatar smiled at him. Sonya, he thought. Sonya.
«I want to correlate their power reductions with the detailed map I’m making of the interstellar gas.»
«Interesting,» said the avatar.
«I’m pleased you think so,» Ignatiev replied, through gritted teeth.
The avatar’s image disappeared, replaced by data scrolling slowly along the screen. Ignatiev settled deeper into the form-adjusting desk chair and began to study the reports.
His door buzzer grated in his ears. Annoyed, Ignatiev told his computer to show who was at the door.
Gregorian was standing out in the passageway, tall, lanky, egocentric Gregorian. What in hell could he want? Ignatiev asked himself.
The big oaf pressed the buzzer again.
Thoroughly piqued at the interruption—no, the invasion of his privacy—Ignatiev growled, «Go away.»
«Dr. Ignatiev,» the Armenian called. «Please.»
Ignatiev closed his eyes and wished that Gregorian would disappear. But when he opened them again the man was still at his door, fidgeting nervously.
Ignatiev surrendered. «Enter,» he muttered.
The door slid back and Gregorian ambled in, his angular face serious, almost somber. His usual lopsided grin was nowhere to be seen.
«I’m sorry to intrude on you, Dr. Ignatiev,» said the engineer.
Leaning back in his desk chair to peer up at Gregorian, Ignatiev said, «It must be something terribly important.»
The contempt was wasted on Gregorian. He looked around the sitting room, his eyes resting for a moment on the pile of abandoned equipment hiding the fireplace.
«Uh, may I sit down?»
«Of course,» Ignatiev said, waving a hand toward the couch across the room.
Gregorian went to it and sat, bony knees poking up awkwardly. Ignatiev rolled his desk chair across the carpeting to face him.
«So what is so important that you had to come see me?»
Very seriously, Gregorian replied, «It’s Nikki.»
Ignatiev felt a pang of alarm. «What’s wrong with Nikki?»
«Nothing! She’s wonderful.»
«So?»
«I … I’ve fallen in love with her,» Gregorian said, almost whispering.
«What of it?» Ignatiev snapped.
«I don’t know if she loves me.»
What an ass! Ignatiev thought. A blind, blundering ass who can’t see the nose in front of his face.
«She … I mean, we get along very well. It’s always fun to be with her. But … does she like me well enough …» His voice faded.
Why is he coming to me with this? Ignatiev wondered. Why not one of the psycotechs? That’s what they’re here for.
He thought he knew. The young oaf would be embarrassed to tell them about his feelings. So he comes to old Ignatiev, the father figure.
Feeling his brows knitting, Ignatiev asked, «Have you been to bed with her?»
«Oh, yes. Sure. But if I ask her to marry me, a real commitment … she might say no. She might not like me well enough for that. I mean, there are other guys in the crew …»
Marriage? Ignatiev felt stunned. Do kids still get married? Is he saying he’d spend two centuries living with her? Then he remembered Sonya. He knew he would have spent two centuries with her. Two millennia. Two eons.
His voice strangely subdued, Ignatiev asked, «You love her so much that you want to marry her?»
Gregorian nodded mutely.
Ignatiev said, «And you’re afraid that if you ask her for a lifetime commitment she’ll refuse and that will destroy your relationship.»
Looking completely miserable, Gregorian said, «Yes.» He stared into Ignatiev’s eyes. «What should I do?»
Beneath all the bravado he’s just a frightened pup, uncertain of himself, Ignatiev realized. Sixty years old and he’s as scared and worried as a teenager.
I can tell him to forget her. Tell him she doesn’t care about him; say that she’s not interested in a lifetime commitment. I can break up their romance with a few words.
But as he looked into Gregorian’s wretched face he knew he couldn’t do it. It would wound the young pup; hurt him terribly. Ignatiev heard himself say, «She loves you, Vartan. She’s mad about you. Can’t you see that?»
«You think so?»
Ignatiev wanted to say, «Why do you think she puts up with you and your ridiculous posturing?» Instead, he told the younger man, «I’m sure of it. Go to her. Speak your heart to her.»
Gregorian leaped up from couch so abruptly that Ignatiev nearly toppled out of his rolling chair.