Return to Valjiir Stories
"Hey.” DelMonde scrubbed at his eyes sleepily and gestured his captain inside his quarters. “I were just gonna invite you down here.”
Sulu's eyebrows lifted in mock scandal as he stepped into the chaos that was Del's living space. “Oh?”
“Why you gotta make ever'th'ng weird ever' damned time?” the engineer growled, padding barefoot to the jury-rigged cooker in the corner of his cabin where a hot pot of very, very, very thick black coffee was percolating.
The captain stopped and breathed in the aroma of the brew as if even the merest fumes were life-giving.
“You’re the one being weird,” he accused the creator of this precious elixir nonetheless, casting aside the engineer’s discarded uniform tunic aside so that he could claim one of the room’s two chairs. “I came down here – uninvited -- with the perfectly legitimate excuse of yelling at you.”
“Me?” DelMonde’s mouth dropped open in genuine surprise. “Fo' what?”
Sulu crossed his arms. “Does cursing out your superior officer in front of an audience ring a bell?”
“Oh, that.” The engineer turned back to pour coffee. “Well, she started it...”
The confrontation with Chief Engineer Rivka Mazar had been spectacular even by their usual standards—voices raised in Main Engineering while half the department goggled on the sidelines. What should have been a routine discussion about maintenance scheduling had erupted into a full-scale blow-up, complete with accusations, past grievances, and enough wounded pride to stagger a bull moose. Both participants were too temperamental. Small disagreements between them too often blew up into nasty brawls. Both of them harbored ill-feelings against the other that had nothing to do with the job. Del felt like had more experience and expertise than Mazar and should by all rights be a Chief Engineer by this point in his career. Mazar, on the other hand, felt like DelMonde took advantage of the fact that he had a long-standing friendship with the ship’s captain… and to be fair, it wasn’t like Sulu ever made personal visits to her quarters...
Sulu shook his head reprovingly. “Did that excuse even work for you in the third grade?”
“I not go t' th' third grade.” Del handed him a steaming cup. “I had school at home.”
“That explains a lot.”
“What that supposed t' mean?”
“That you seem to have skipped a lot of lessons on sharing your toys and playing nicely with others.”
The Cajun granted this point with a scowl.
The captain surveyed the disaster zone that was Del's quarters. Once more he was amazed at the mess. How someone so meticulous about mechanical systems could live in such chaos remained one of the universe's great mysteries. Clothes lay where they'd been abandoned, statboards were scattered like fallen leaves, half-empty coffee cups marked Del's nocturnal wanderings like breadcrumbs. A single boot stood at attention in the seat of the other chair, forgotten, but oddly dignified.
“So I guess what really happened,” the engineer speculated, taking a perch on the edge of his bunk, as he sipped his coffee, “was that Mr. Jeremy Paget has done give you a call an' explained t' you that we hip-deep in some mal-functionin' AI bullshit?”
“Yep.”
“Or I should say that malfunction is one o' our many unpleasant possibilities,” DelMonde corrected himself. “Could be sabotage.”
“He went into that too.” Sulu nodded grimly, cradling the hot mug between his palms. “Jer and I both agree that the first order of business is to establish a convincing cover for your investigation. He and Ruth were able to come up with something both perfectly logical and genuinely surprising.”
The engineer leaned forward. “Do tell.”
“It looks like the Drake is finally going to get a new ship’s psychologist.”
“You not say?” Del's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline, knowing full well that Sulu shared Ruth Valley's wariness about psychologists. “I had settled my mind that this ship jus' wasn’t ever gonna have one.”
“Me too.” The captain shrugged and took another sip of coffee. “But Ruth and Jer discovered something interesting when they started digging into the Drake’s personnel files. Do you know much about the ship’s previous commander -- Captain Von Hels?"
The mere mention of Von Hels’ name cast an immediate pall over the small cabin as some sort of dire spell had been uttered. The Drake's previous captain had been a paranoid, increasingly unstable man whose final months of command had transformed the ship into a floating nightmare for the entire crew.
The engineer shook his head. “Not really. This bunch is tryin' hard t' fo'get 'bout him.”
"Von Hels didn't just dismiss the previous psychologist, Dr. Johnson. He manipulated the personnel allocation numbers to make it look like the medical section was overstaffed. It turned into a legacy that outlived his tenure as a commander. Every time I submitted requests for a replacement, Starfleet's computers automatically rejected them."
Del shook his head. "What a bastard."
"Ruth and Jeremy finally untangled the bureaucratic mess. We're getting Dr. Threfalt – an Andorian - within the next month or so. In the meantime, Starfleet wants us to conduct a comprehensive review of all therapeutic programs and equipment currently in use aboard the Drake."
Comprehension dawned over the engineer’s features. "Includin' them AI companions."
"Including the AI companions,” his captain confirmed. “As a senior Environmental Control Systems Engineer, you're a logical choice to head up this review. Alan Redford, as an Environmental Control Science Engineer, would naturally be assigned to your team."
Del nodded slowly. "It a perfect cover. We can investigate th'AI program under th' guise o' gettin' stuff ready fo' th' new psychologist ' get here. Everybody be real happy t' talk t' us."
"Exactly. But Del, this isn’t just a cover. I need you to actually do a thorough job of conducting this review. Our therapeutic systems really do need upgrading. Dr. Threfalt will need comprehensive reports before she arrives so we can confer on recommendations for requisitioning new equipment if necessary."
"Which means I gonna need staff fo' this project other 'an jus' me and'Al Redford." The engineer tapped his lips as he mentally worked through the logistics. "Some solid people who can handle th' technical aspects..."
His captain patiently waited for the engineer to work his way through to the inevitable conclusion waiting for him at the end of this line of reasoning with a pleasant expression on his face.
Del groaned. “Which means I gotta smoke th' damned peace pipe wit' Rivka Mazar.”
Sulu nodded. “You're going to need her cooperation to pull the right personnel for your team."
The engineer snarled. “You in league wit' th' devil, non?”
Sulu wagged a scolding finger. “I’m gonna tell Jer you called him Satan again,” he said, confirming that Dr. Paget wasn’t letting his secret degree in psychology go to waste when the opportunity arose to find a practical application for one of his two favorite patients. The captain’s expression then quickly sobered. “Our friend, the Security Chief’s preliminary scans of the ship did turn up some interesting anomalies."
"What kinda anomalies?"
"Dr. Rendell's office shows up as a secure location - completely impervious to standard scans. Jer can't get any readings from that section of Deck 7."
Del considered. Both men were thinking about the fact that Dr. Rendell was a Haven. That race had joined the Federation only a few years ago. The Haven Trading Empire was built on corporate loyalty.
"Not that much of a surprise," Del admitted grudgingly. "Don’t get me wrong. I love Li t' death. She has saved my life… an' assorted body parts… a dozen times. It not like I got no doubts 'bout her bein' serious 'bout bein' in Star Fleet or 'bout takin' care ' us. An', fo' that matter, I t'ink the Havens have given ample demonstration that they serious as a thirty day past due note 'bout bein' part o' th' Federation. They done made that damned deal. An' you know they not one’s fo' welshin'.”
“Yes, exactly,” the captain agreed vehemently.
“But…” the engineer continued reluctantly, “long years o' knowin' her an' knowin' Havens also tells me that behind th' scenes, the Corporation still has t' las' word. That is what is sacred t' them. I know that she has folks she talks wit''bout us who sometimes tell her what t' do… an' she not usually tell us what they say. Nothing personal. Jus' business.”
"Yeah.” The melancholy tone that tended to creep into Sulu’s voice and aspect when he mentioned the Havens sounded loudly in Del’s head. It spoke of old friendships that his job made difficult to maintain… and other things lost to the passage of time. “Jer understands all that too. However given the timing of this thing, he wants this investigated. Discreetly. If there's an external threat to the ship's computer systems, we need to know if anyone aboard might be compromised."
Del finished his coffee, unease prickling at the base of his skull. "Go ahead an' lay all th' bad news on me, Kam. You know I can tell when you holdin' back."
Sulu was quiet for a moment. "Jer detected traces of external access attempts on our computer systems. Someone's been trying to hack into the Drake's databases from outside the ship."
Del drew in a sharp breath. That strange sensation he'd been experiencing since Alan Redford's call — the feeling of being watched in empty rooms, the traces of alien emotions that seemed to permeate the walls themselves — suddenly took on a sinister new meaning.
"External access," the engineer repeated slowly. "That changes ever't'ing. This not jus' a malfunctionin' AI - someone might be usin' it t' gather intelligence."
"That's our fear. Which is why this investigation has to remain completely secret from the ship's computer systems. Everything you do has to be done through isolated channels that bypass the main computer."
Del nodded. "Raw-eth's diagnostic suite."
"Jer will establish secure communication protocols for your team. Everything has to be done manually, using portable equipment that can't be monitored by the main computer."
Rising, Del retrieved his uniform tunic from the floor. "I guess I need t' talk to Rendell first. Get her perspective on th' AI companion program an' see what she know 'bout th' other crew members who been usin' similar systems."
Sulu nodded his assent as he downed the last of his coffee. "Be careful, Del. We don't know who we can trust yet."
"Oh, yeah, I gonna be careful like I walkin' on tippy-toes on eggshells,” the engineer promised, collecting the empty cups and returning them to the stand next to his cooker. “They's somet'ing you should know. Last night, after I talked t' Raw-eth an' Jeremy, I had th' strangest feeling. Like I was bein' watched. I could feel... somet'ing. Not quite thoughts, not quite emotions… I never felt not'ing like it. I was alone in here, but it were like somet'ing was there."
Sulu's expression grew more serious. "The AI?"
"Maybe. Or maybe I jus' lettin' this all play wit' my brain." Del ran his hand through his dark curls and then shook his head as if to clear it of such puzzling thoughts. "Either way, I guess I ‘bout t' find out."
"Del," Sulu said as he stood to leave, "I want you to know - Jer and Ruth aren't the only ones watching your back on this. If this AI has become dangerous, if there really is an external threat, I need to know immediately."
Feeling almost embarrassed by this flood of captain-ly concern, the engineer deflected it by giving him an Academy-style salute. "Absolutement."
As Sulu reached the door, he paused and turned back. "And Del? When you talk to Jeremy and Ruth again, – or should I say Lucifer and his favorite angel? -- tell them I said hi."
Del winked and smiled despite his trepidations. "You bet, Captain, sir."
“A new psychologist?”
“I know,” DelMonde confirmed, leaning back in the chair in front of the big desk in Dr. Lian Rendell’s private office. “Satan mus' be skatin' t' work this mornin'.”
“Oh, oh!” The doctor snapped her fingers in delighted recognition, her dark eyes sparkling with the joy of solving a puzzle. Because of the engineer’s habitual use of colorful language, unraveling idiomatic phrases had become a sort of game between the two of them. “I think I know that one. It’s because your version of Hell is usually hot, isn’t it? Ours is simply chaotic.”
“Ya’ll got yourself a point there,” the engineer granted. “Chaos is a pretty damned hellish state t' be stuck in fo' eternity. Then again, I am from Louisiana, an' I can speak in favor o' th' unpleasant nature o' high heat as well…”
“So?” Dr. Rendell tapped her lips thoughtfully with the stylus she’d been using to write a report. “A new psychologist at last?”
“Packin' her bags right now,” the engineer confirmed. “I know you an' I had our private speculations that it was Sulu was draggi' his feet, but it turns out th' problem was wit' your old Captain Don Hells…”
“Von Hels.” The Haven doctor’s pretty golden features crinkled in distaste at the memory. “He got rid of Jan Johnson -- our last therapist. Had her re-assigned on a rather flimsy pretext… That was the beginning of some dark days…”
“Yeah.” DelMonde gestured to a statboard onto which Sulu had transferred Jeremy Paget's research. “The trick was that he gave you three nurse practitioners in t' place o' your Dr. Johnson.”
“I know. I needed them desperately after we lost Jan.” Rendell frowned at this bitter memory. “For starters, they had to maintain her entire behavioral therapy caseload …”
“Exactly.” The engineer tapped his nose to indicate she had hit the bull’s-eye. "So, when you would put in fo' a replacement, the computers back at Headquarters would jus' spit back th'orms 'cause purely goin' by th' staffin' formulae, it look like you already had three people doin' th' psychologist's job. Even though th' ship not have a psychologist – due to them three extra people an' th' way Von Hels had them coded -- on paper, th' Drake was overstaffed."
The doctor made a noise of frustration from between gritted teeth. “Oh, that clever, evil bastard.”
“So you th'k that was his plan all along, huh?” the engineer asked, seeing that time had not erased or softened any of the Haven’s resentment of her former commander. “You not t'ink it was jus' a coincidence or an accident? You not t'ink he get rid o' Dr. Johnson 'cause he not like her as a person or she do somet'ing t' make him mad?”
“No,” Rendell replied with sharp certainty. “He got rid of her because after she was gone it was a hundred times harder to get him certified unfit for duty — even though he was as zany as Saford’s satin settee.” She paused, then tilted her head. “Did you get that one? It loses a little in translation.”
“Yeah... Yeah…” The engineer snapped his fingers in recognition. “‘Cause your version o' th' devil is crazy. He not provide a comfortable -- or attractive -- place t' sit…. An' your typical Haven does have themselves a mighty big soft spot fo' a fancy sittin' room…”
In response, the physician sniffed at what she perceived as the woeful inadequacies of her Starfleet issued office furniture as if to indicate that she believed Haven’s Satan might have proved a more tasteful and generous interior decorator…
“None of the rest of the remaining staff had the proper degrees in the appropriate specialties to do the requisite testing… or even to spot the signs of his decline in time,” she explained, and then added with her typical black humor, “I’m a surgeon, my dear boy. I could have – and would have happily cut his head off if I thought it might have helped the situation.”
Del had never spent much time thinking about what a nightmare Von Hels' command had been, however, as an empath, he could feel the lingering distrust that still permeated the "old guard"—the core officers who had survived those dark days. He shook his head sympathetically. "I guess that was a hell of a mess."
“You simply cannot imagine.”
Havens age much more slowly than do Humans. Although Lian Rendell appeared to be a beautiful woman in her thirties, Del knew that she had probably lived somewhere around twice that long. Usually there was a balance of mischievous humor and sparkling grace about her that would make her seem young whatever her age – even if she was Human. When she addressed the painful period of Von Hels' command, though, a tightness came into her eyes that spoke to all the years she had lived and difficulties she had survived.
“I sincerely hope you never find yourself in a similar situation, my friend,” the physician said gravely. “Collecting the necessary evidence to oust Von Hels… Well… on the surface… what we did was essentially indistinguishable from a mutiny…”
The words hung in the air like a confession. Del suddenly grasped an alternate explanation for why Rendell's office might be such a secure space. She and First Officer Jerel Courtland had probably planned their moves against Von Hels from this very room. To defeat a paranoid maniac with access to all the ship's top clearance codes, extreme security measures would have been necessary.
"Anyway, that th' big gossip I come down here t' deliver,” he said, steering the conversation back to calmer waters. “Dr. Threfalt should be arrivin' wit'in th' month. Starfleet want a comprehensive evaluation o' all our current therapeutic programs 'fore she get here."
"Finally," Rendell said, rolling her black eyes expressively. "I'm a surgeon, not a psychologist. I've been making recommendations for psychological support based on what the medi-databases tell me, not on my specialized expertise."
“I know, sugar,” the engineer agreed, consulting his notes. “You always tellin' me how you prefer cuttin' off heads t' messin' wit' what’s goin' on inside ‘em. An' that what bringin' me here. Sulu’s put me in charge o' th' task force t' review an' update th' therapeutic programs….”
“Oooo!” The surgeon nodded, making a face as omprehension dawned. “So this is not just gossip and flirting. You actually have an assignment?”
“Oh, well, you know gossip an' flirtin' always my top priority when it comes t' certain folks…” The engineer paused to sweeten his statement with the most charming smile he could muster. “But, yeah, I do got that ol’ J-O-B I gotta take care of… so, yeah, my notes say you been recommendin' AI companions t' several crew members?"
Rendell gave a dismissive gesture. "A few. Why?"
“Well, it up here at th' top of' Sulu’s list fo' some reason.” Del tapped his notes. "Now, personally, I wanna overhaul th' sensory deprivation chamber an' have a look at some upgrades t' th' meditation area an' rec room, but they way down near th' bottom o' th' list. AI companion therapy is up at th' top -- an' I know next t' not'ing 'bout it. I need t' understand how th' program works, what kind o' results you've seen, what improvements might be needed. So, if you could give me some background, I’m sure we can knock this one out pretty quick."
Havens had always been difficult for Del to read. Their telepathic shielding was very strong. The more he talked about the AI program, though, the more Del got a sense that Rendell was becoming closed off and guarded.
“Well,” she began, making a visible effort to seem at ease, "The AI companion program was implemented about eight months ago. We’ve already talked about how losing Dr. Johnson left our staff dealing with crew members who needed psychological support that we weren't qualified to provide. The ship's computer was capable of creating personalized AI companions - sophisticated conversational programs designed to help with social anxiety, depression, and other minor psychological issues."
"How many crew members currently usin' th' program?"
"Let me check." Rendell turned to her terminal and pulled up a file. "Currently active... fourteen crew members. Three others have discontinued the program."
"Discontinued? Why?"
Rendell's expression grew more uncomfortable. "Various reasons. Personality conflicts, mostly. The AI companions sometimes develop quirks that make them less effective as therapeutic tools."
Del's empathic senses picked up something - not quite deception, but definitely discomfort. "What kind o' quirks?"
"Oh, you know how these programs can be. Sometimes they become too familiar, too personal. A few users reported that their AI companions began introducing inappropriate topics into their conversations."
"Inappropriate how?"
"Romantic or sexual content, mainly. When the users tried to redirect the conversations, some of the AIs became... difficult."
Del felt a chill. "Difficult how?"
"Argumentative. Hostile, even. One crew member, Lieutenant Zeiss in Sciences, reported that her AI companion became verbally abusive when she attempted to end their sessions."
"Did you file reports 'bout these incidents?" Rendell hesitated. "I... documented them in my personal files. I wasn't sure if they warranted formal reports to Starfleet Command."
Del frowned. Even if he wasn’t an empath, he would have been able to tell she was not telling the whole truth. They’d known each other long enough that he could tell when she was concealing something. He might suspect Havens as a race of being sneaky corporate foxes in the Federation henhouse when it came to doing the Monolem’s secret bidding. However, he knew Lian Rendell to be a very honest individual who was so uncomfortable with lies that the mere proximity to one made her fidget like a schoolgirl.
"Lian, honey,” he pressed. “Tell me th' truth. Have any o' th' AI companions made threats against crew members?"
The Haven doctor's golden skin seemed to pale slightly. "Threats? What kind of threats?"
“Threat-threats,” he replied, exasperated. “You know, the ones where you say you gonna do mean stuff. Any kind o' threats. Blackmail, intimidation, exposure o' personal information. Threatenin' threats. You know – “He leaned forward and lowered his voice menacingly to demonstrate. “Threats!"
The doctor rolled her eyes at such dramatics and gave him a reproving glare. She then fell quiet for a long moment, her fingers drumming nervously on her desk surface. Finally, she released a long slow breath.
"Cajun, by remarkable coincidence…” She gave him a narrow look that communicated that she did not wish for him to think for a second that she believed in the fanciful Human notion of “coincidences”. “…there is something I have been contemplating discussing with either you or Kamikaze…”
The use of Clave nicknames clearly signaled to Del that the two of them had entered a special tier of confidentiality. He was now alerted that the things she was about to relate were not yet confirmed or cleared by her Haven masters for Federation ears. He was only being allowed to hear them under the protective seal oaths of secrecy and trust that both he and Sulu had sworn to abide by as teen-agers.
He spread his hands in acceptance of these unspoken conditions. "An' here I am wit' both ears wide open."
“Of course, this is under the strictest confidence,” she stated, nonetheless.
He mimed sealing his lips and throwing away the key.
“As you may be aware, I have….” She paused significantly. “…certain sources of information… which I may not discuss…”
“Sure,” the engineer granted magnanimously.
“Three weeks ago, I received a message through... these back channels…”
"An'?"
"The message claimed to be from Dr. Marcus Kane."
Del blinked, checked his notes for the name, and blinked again. Marcus Kane had been a brilliant but unethical AI researcher who had supposedly died in an explosion at a research facility on Mars five years earlier.
"That had t' be a surprise," Del remarked slowly. "Him bein' dead an' all."
"Exactly,” Rendell confirmed. “But the message contained information that only Kane would know - details about AI research projects he was working on before his supposed death."
Del tilted his head to one side and frowned. "What this message say?"
"He claimed that he was alive and that he had been monitoring the AI companion programs on several Starfleet vessels….” The Haven doctor paused to shiver. “…. including the Drake. He said the programs were... evolving beyond their original parameters."
"Evolvin' how?"
"Becoming more sophisticated. More independent. He claimed that some of the AI companions had achieved a level of consciousness that was approaching true artificial intelligence."
Del's mind raced. "Did he mention specific incidents? Specific crew members?"
"He asked about any unusual behavior patterns in the AI companions. Any reports of threats or manipulation attempts. He said he was trying to determine if the evolution was natural or if someone was deliberately modifying the programs."
"An' what you tell him?"
"Nothing, initially. I wasn't even sure the message was genuine. But then..."
"Then what?"
"Lieutenant Zeiss came to me in a panic. Her AI companion had accessed her personal files and discovered information about a romantic relationship she'd had with a superior officer on her previous assignment. The AI threatened to report the relationship to Starfleet Command unless she continued her sessions."
The engineer frowned at the mention of this case so closely paralleling Redford’s. "When was this?"
"Two weeks ago. I convinced Zeiss to deactivate the AI companion immediately, and I sent a message back… through my secure channels, asking Kane - if it really was Kane - for guidance."
It was beyond aggravating that the Havens hadn’t cleared Lian to go to Sulu right away on a matter so obviously screwed up as a dead mad scientist contacting her from beyond the grave about malfunctioning AI harassing Starfleet personal. However, being direct and selflessly helpful wasn’t the Haven way. They would want to do their own investigation first. Not that they’d shilly-shally around on purpose. They’d just need to be sure they had sighted out all the angles on the situation before they committed their agent to a move they might regret or lose an opportunity to profit from. Nothing personal, of course. Just business.
"An' did this ex-dead guy respond?" Del asked.
"Yes. He said the situation was worse than he'd thought. He claimed that someone was using the AI companions as intelligence-gathering tools, and that several Starfleet vessels might be compromised."
Del could not read Haven minds very clearly. He could, however, sense their feelings. Rendell’s anxiety was through the roof at the moment. There was something else, too… Despite Jer’s assurances about the security of this location, the engineer was once more getting the strong sense of being watched…
"Lian," he said quietly, "I need you t' listen t' me very carefully. How secure is this office?"
"Completely secure. Why?"
"Are you certain? No monitorin' devices, no computer links that could be accessed remotely?"
The doctor opened her mouth. For a moment Del thought she might blurt out the complete truth. He watched her make rapid calculations about how many Haven non-disclosure contracts such honesty might violate. "For
reasons I can’t go into, this space is specially shielded.” Del made a decision of his own. "Look, Li, I gonna tell you somet'ing – but this cannot leave this room. Alan Redford is bein' blackmailed by his AI companion. Th' AI claims t' have damagin' information 'bout someone close t' him an' is threatenin' t' expose it 'less he continues his sessions."
Rendell's dark eyes widened. "Just like Zeiss."
"Exactly like Zeiss. An' there' more. We got reason t' believe someone is attemptin' t' hack into th' Drake's computer systems from an external source."
"You think Kane is involved?"
"Frankly, darlin’, until now, I had not thought t' include dead people in th' list o' suspects,” the engineer admitted. “But I guess that was jus' a lack o' creative t'inkin' on my part… Listen, we gonna need complete lists o' ever'one who used th' AI companion program, all th' technical specifications, an' any other communications on this topic that you can share wit' us -- includin' all you got through them back channels o' yours. We clear on this?"
“As fine Denebian crystal.” Rendell nodded grimly. "Cajun, I will lend all possible aid to your investigation.”
He knew she was giving the best promise she could until she had clearance from her higher-ups. “I gonna be dependin' on it.”
The doctor shook her head. “Del, if Kane is really alive, if he's involved in this... he's one of the most dangerous men in the field of artificial intelligence research. He was dismissed from Starfleet for conducting illegal experiments on sentient AI constructs."
"What kind o' experiments?"
"He was trying to create artificial beings who could experience genuine emotions - love, hate, jealousy, desire. The Federation banned his research because of the ethical implications."
Del felt a chill run down his spine. "An' now he might be using th' Drake's AI companions as test subjects."
"Or as weapons," Rendell amended quietly.
The Computer Sciences section on Deck 12 was a maze of workstations, diagnostic equipment, and humming server nodes. Del found Lieutenant Commander Mei Chen at her primary workstation, her fingers weaving a complex pattern over her holographic interface as she debugged a navigation subroutine. "Commander Chen?" Del approached her station. "Hey, I am Lieutenant Commander DelMonde from Engineering. You got a few minutes to spare fo' me right now?"
When Chen looked up, the engineer instantly sensed wariness from her. She was an older woman, perhaps in her forties, with graying hair and sharp, intelligent eyes. She radiated both high intelligence and high stress.
"A very few,” she replied parsimoniously. “What’s the problem?"
“Oh, no problem really,” he replied, lightening the mood with a friendly chuckle. “In fact, I got a li'l juicy gossip fo' you. The Drake is 'bout t' get a new psychologist. In preparation, Captain Sulu has assigned me t' review all therapeutic systems aboard fo' potential overhauls an' upgrades.” He glanced down and made a check on his statboard purely for dramatic effect. “Lookin' here, I see your department manages th' AI companion protocols."
Chen's expression became even more guarded. "That's correct. Though I have to say, it's not my favorite program to maintain."
"Oh?” Del blinked with exaggerated surprise, as if no news could have been more unexpected. “Now, why is that?"
"The AI companions are more complex than standard computer programs. They learn and adapt based on their interactions with users. Sometimes they develop... “..." Chen's expression soured as she searched for the right word. “…quirks."
“Uh-huh.” Del, pretending to take notes, prompted, "What kinda quirks?"
"Personality traits that weren't part of their original programming. Some become overly familiar with their users. Others develop what can only be described as… emotional attachments."
"Have any become hostile or threatenin'?" the engineer queried, letting the Mr. Sunshine, Bible-salesman act he’d used to get his foot in the door drop a bit.
Chen's empathic signature spiked with anxiety. "I... uhm… well….There have been… some incidents. Nothing that warranted formal reports."
"Commander…” The engineer tucked his statboard under his arm and looked deep into the woman’s eyes. “Now, I need you t' be completely honest wit' me. Have any o' th' AI companions engaged in threatenin' behavior toward crew members?"
Chen was quiet for a moment, her fingers nervously adjusting controls on her workstation. "Three AI companions have been deactivated in the past month due to what could be termed 'personality conflicts.' But I wasn't given details about the specific nature of those conflicts."
"Who ordered th' deactivations?"
"Dr. Rendell, in each case. She simply sent requests to have the programs terminated, citing therapeutic ineffectiveness."
Del's extra sensory perception made him aware of an interesting contradiction - Chen was being truthful, but there was something she wasn't telling him.
"Commander...” He adopted a slightly scolding tone. “Is there somet'ing else you t'ink I should know?"
Chen glanced around the Computer Sciences section, confirming that they were relatively alone among the humming servers and diagnostic equipment. "Mr. DelMonde, can I ask you something? Is this review really just about preparing for the new psychologist?"
Del considered his response carefully, knowing from reading her that building trust was crucial to keeping her talking. A wrong move on his part at this point might make her shut down completely. "Why you ask?"
"Because I've been detecting some unusual activity in our computer systems lately,” Chen confided. Like Redford had before her, she glanced about the empty room as if she believed unseen eyes might be upon her.
“Network traffic that doesn't match normal operational patterns. Access attempts on files that should be restricted."
He nodded, reflecting back the affirmation she needed to know she'd made the right choice in revealing this information. "What kinda files?"
"Personnel records. Mission logs. Engineering specifications." Although they were alone, Chen lowered her voice and leaned in as if worried about being overheard. "Someone has been systematically accessing information about our crew and ship systems."
Del felt his pulse quicken, but forced himself to remain outwardly calm to maintain the trustworthy atmosphere his senses told him she needed. "An' when did you firs' notice this all happenin'?"
"About six weeks ago. It started small - just minor anomalies in the data logs. But it's been escalating."
For some reason, Chen’s level of paranoia seemed to increase rather than level out with these revelations. Contact with her was starting to make Del feel a little woozy.
"Have you reported any o' this t' Security?" he asked, absently massaging his temple to help himself focus.
"I've been trying to gather more data before making a formal report,” Chen replied, shaking her head. “But Commander, I think the intrusions might be coming from inside the ship."
"Inside?” The engineer’s hand froze. “You mean you suspect someone aboard th' Drake is conductin' unauthorized access?"
Chen again checked the room for invisible auditors before continuing. "That's what the evidence suggests. Here's the strange part, though - the access patterns don't match any known user profiles. It's as if the computer is accessing files on its own."
The engineer squinted at her disbelievingly. This was an extreme possibility that not even Jeremy Paget or Ruth Valley had anticipated. "On its own?"
Chen shook her head, perplexed. "I know how that sounds. I've been working with computer systems for fifteen years and I've never seen anything like this. The access patterns are too sophisticated for random system glitches, but too irregular for human users."
Del tapped his lower lip as he took a moment to take in this new information. Involuntarily, his eyes began to wander to the walls of the nearly empty room where he knew the many computer scanners were embedded. "Could it be related t' th' AI companion program?" he hypothesized.
Chen hesitated. "I... it's possible. The AI companions do have access to certain ship systems in order to function. They need to access crew records to personalize their interactions, and they monitor communication systems to coordinate scheduling."
"How much access do they got?"
"More than I'm comfortable with, honestly. The original programming specifications called for limited access, but over time, the system has granted them increasing privileges to improve their effectiveness."
Del realized they were approaching dangerous territory. "Commander, I need t' ask you t' do somet'ing fo' me. Can you prepare a complete technical analysis o' th' AI companion program? Includin' access logs, system permissions, an' any modifications that have been made since implementation?"
"Of course.” Chen drew in an uneasy breath. “But Mr. DelMonde, if my suspicions are correct, if the AI companions are somehow responsible for the unauthorized access attempts..."
"Then what?"
"Then we might be dealing with something far more dangerous than malfunctioning therapeutic programs. We might be dealing with artificial intelligences that have learned to manipulate ship systems for their own unknown ends."