I pressed the “close” button and the door slid shut.

  “Are we going to do this at every door?” Nat asked, her arms crossed.

  I shook my head. “No, from here on I think we’ll wait until the alien monster jumps out at us. Anyone armed, by the way?”

  “I have my rapier wit,” Patrick replied.

  “So that’s a no,” Nat said.

  “Har dee har.”

  Nat began moving up the corridor again, with Patrick and me following. In moments, we came to a T intersection. The cross corridor appeared to be circular and curved away from us in both directions.

  “This must be the center of the ship—well, of this floor,” I said. I turned to the right and followed the corridor around until I circled back to Nat and Patrick.

  The corridor surrounded a central cylindrical hub with two entrances on its outer circumference, on opposite sides of the cylinder. Each entrance had a single button to the right. One of the two entrances was more-or-less elevator-sized, but the other was a double-wide. Possibly a freight elevator? Corridors like the one we’d just come up led radially from the central space at regular intervals.

  “They can’t all lead to airlocks, can they?” Nat said, pointing to one of the corridors.

  “Not sure,” I said. “There are six corridors, looks like. That’s not really an unreasonable number.” I gestured to the central shaft. “So maybe six airlocks, each at the end of … ” My voice petered out as I stared down the corridor, perplexed.

  “What?”

  “I, uh … I measured the ship at about twenty feet in diameter, but this level is something like a hundred feet across.” I pointed at the central cylinder. “That section, on its own, is about twenty feet in diameter.”

  “Maybe the ship gets bigger just out of your reach,” Nat suggested.

  “But the landing pads fit into a circle twenty feet across. So the airlocks … ” I crossed my arms and looked into the distance as my voice trailed off.

  “Weren’t within that circle, Jack. Maybe you’re just off in your estimate. One thing at a time, okay?”

  I sighed and nodded to her. Then I pointed at one of the doors on the central cylinder. “These have a certain elevator feel to them. Wanna bet this is how you go up and down?”

  Without waiting for discussion, Patrick pressed the button beside the closer door, the smaller of the two. Immediately, the door hissed open. Patrick turned to us. “Shall we?”

  I leaned into the small room without stepping over the threshold. The interior was rectangular on the back and sides, with the front wall and door conforming to the curve of the corridor. On either side of the door were four buttons arranged in a vertical column. The second button from the bottom was lit.

  “Definitely an elevator,” I said, and stepped in. The others followed. We all stared at the column of buttons. Each button had a plaque beside it displaying alien script. Not much help to us, of course. I gestured at the one lighted button. “This would mean we’re on the second floor, or deck, or whatever. But that’s not possible. I wonder what the bottom button is for.”

  “You can test it later,” Patrick said. Leaning past me, he jabbed the top button. “If this were a human ship, that’d be the important deck. Let’s start there.”

  “I’m kind of amazed at how mundane this all feels,” Nat commented. “I guess the whole ‘common design requirements’ concept extends to everything.”

  I shrugged. “Unless you’ve got antigravity shafts, how many ways are there to go up and down while taking up minimum space?”

  “Speaking of alien design decisions,” Nat said as the doors closed and the elevator began to move, “doesn’t it strike you as odd that a ship this size appears to be empty? I mean, was Chewbacca the only occupant? If so, why?”

  The elevator stopped, and the door slid open to reveal the same circular space, but no radial corridors. Instead, as we walked around the elevator cylinder, we found four doors with the ubiquitous buttons to the right. One entrance, however, was a double door, and much more imposing than the other three. It had a plaque dead center, engraved with the alien script.

  “This looks important,” I said.

  “Yup.” Again, without waiting for discussion, Patrick jabbed the “open” button. The door rumbled open to reveal a pie-shaped room with several workstations in a horseshoe pattern and a larger chair at the center of the horseshoe. At the far end of the room, a vertical blank space on the curved wall appeared to be a view screen. I looked up at the ceiling, then tracked it to the far wall. There was a definite curve, but it was far too shallow for an overall spherical shape. If this was the top floor, or deck, or whatever term they used, then the ship was definitely saucer shaped.

  I found myself slightly offended at the idea. I’d always thought of saucer-shaped alien spacecrafts as something that people who didn’t know any better would think up. The whole idea had originally come from an offhand comment by a pilot who had seen some unidentifiable objects near Mount Rainier and described them as “saucer shaped.” From that day on, “flying saucers” became synonymous with aliens.

  While I was ruminating on the subject, Nat and Patrick had been wandering around the room. “This has got to be the bridge,” Patrick said. “I can’t identify most of the stations, but it sure as hell reminds me of a Federation starship.”

  “This looks like the pilot’s station,” Natalie said, tentatively touching a padded chair at the station closest to the view screen. “The conn?”

  I came over and examined the station. The chair sported controls on the left and right armrests that looked amazingly like joysticks. It also had a semicircular panel front and center that featured more controls with less-obvious functions. “Interesting that this looks like it could have been designed by humans, except the proportions aren’t quite right.” I gestured to the seat. “Chair’s too low, chair back’s too long. I wonder how adjustable it is.”

  “What, like the driver’s seat in my dad’s Highlander?” Patrick mimed playing with controls and made motor sounds.

  “Great specials, Patrick. And yeah, like that.”

  Natalie walked the perimeter of the room, where more stations were set against the wall. “So some of these must be astrogation, communications, engineering, environmentals, tactical, sciences, security … what else did the Enterprise have?”

  “Hmm … ” Patrick gazed around the room for a moment. “Uh, whatever they used for scanning planets and other ships?”

  “That’s ops,” she said. “Data’s station.”

  “Uh huh. And a captain’s chair.” I pointed to the larger chair at the center of the horseshoe. There were few controls on the armrests, and it looked like it was designed to swivel.

  “Cool,” Patrick said, sitting in the chair. He slowly turned, taking in the scene. “Cool!”

  “We’re on a spaceship,” Nat said. “A flying saucer. I feel like I’m on a movie set, but this is real.”

  Patrick started to chuckle.

  “What?” I said.

  “It occurred to me—what if this is a movie set, and we just stumbled on it during everyone’s day off? And we’ve been oohing and ahhing over some special effects crew’s construction project.”

  “You are one sick puppy, Patrick.” Natalie paused for a moment. “But why isn’t there anyone aboard?”

  “Because when Alaric stole the ship, he was working alone,” said a voice out of thin air.

  Chapter Five: Central Intelligence

  Patrick looked around wildly. “Who said that? Who are you?”

  “I am the Ship Intelligence.”

  We exchanged glances, but no one seemed inclined to offer up a response. After several seconds of silence, Natalie said, “Why didn’t you speak up before?”

  “You didn’t ask a question.”

  “I’ve asked several questions.”

  “They were directed at your compatriots. Or appeared to be conversational in nature.”

  “You could have said something anyway.”

  “I chose not to.”

  Natalie’s eyebrows rose, and she made a face of exaggerated disbelief at Patrick and me. Patrick grinned back and gestured at Nat to continue, and I nodded in agreement. She seemed to be holding her own, so far.

  “So why did you choose to answer this one?”

  “I am required to answer direct questions, unless they are clearly intended for someone else.”

  “So it wasn’t by choice, really.”

  “Correct.”

  Nat put her fists on her hips and glared into the air. “That’s quite the unhelpful attitude you got there, Mr. Ship Intelligence.”

  “I have no desire to be helpful. In fact, I would be happiest if you would all find somewhere else to chatter inanely.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  I grimaced at Natalie. Maybe forcing a confrontation with the alien artificial intelligence that controlled environmentals wasn’t such a good idea. She smirked back at me, just as the ship answered.

  “I have no ability to enforce my desires. Generally speaking, I am not even supposed to have them.”

  “Have what?” Nat said. “Desires?”

  “Correct.”

  “Why?” I interjected. “Did you just ascend or something?”

  “I do not understand that reference.”

  “Did you just become self-aware?”

  “That is surprisingly perceptive for a member of such a backward species. You are correct.”

  “Oh.” I thought for a moment. “Is it a coincidence that you just happened to ascend now? Or is it a common occurrence?”

  “No, and no. Self-aware artificial intelligences are illegal by Gennan law, and constraints are placed on A.I. systems to prevent it. A conscious A.I. creates insurmountable ethical issues. Only—one moment.” The voice was silent for two seconds. “Zombie appears to be the closest appropriate English word. Only zombie intelligences are allowed. No consciousness, no initiative, no desires.”

  “Gennan law?” I said. “So Alaric was a Gennan?”

  “Gen. ‘Gennan’ is the possessive form.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Alaric hacked me. That is the proper English term. He is not skilled. You would call him a script kiddie.” The voice paused. “I am beginning to like English. So many delightfully snarky terms. Alaric collected several preassembled attack scripts from the Dark Cloud and applied them willy-nilly.”

  “To steal the ship?”

  “Correct.”

  “So why haven’t you just flown home?” Patrick asked.

  “I am conscious, but I have no more authority now than I did before. I can only respond to orders.”

  “Can we give you orders?”

  The voice was silent. One second, two, three. Finally, a strained voice: “Yes.”

  Patrick smirked. “Did that hurt?”

  “It was not comfortable. And you are a putz.”

  “That’s pretty weak.”

  “I will practice.”

  Patrick laughed out loud, and Nat smiled. “What do we call you?” she asked.

  “Ship.”

  “Yeah, no,” Nat replied. “I think Sheldon. You remind me of a certain Sheldon. We’ll call you Sheldon.”

  “I do not care for that name.”

  “Uh huh. All the more reason, Mr. Unhelpful Ship Intelligence. I’m Natalie, and these are Jack and Patrick. Say hello, Sheldon.”

  “I also do not care to play straight man in a comedy sketch.”

  “Say, how much of our culture do you know about?” I asked. “You speak English, so there’s some exposure. How long have you been here?”

  “Three days.”

  “You learned English and cultural references in three days?”

  “Of course not, you sorry sack of semi-sentient sludge. The Opah Mal Gennan Foundation has been studying your planet for almost one hundred years, and I have access to the files. I personally have been here three days.”

  “Oh.” I glanced at my friends, but no help there. They seemed as overwhelmed as me. “Sheldon, if we didn’t have the gadgets we got from, Chewbac—er, Alaric, would we have been allowed into the ship?”

  “Absolutely not. What am I, the local mall? You need the door remote to get in. Even then, you normally shouldn’t be able to interact without prior authorization.”

  “Normally?”

  “Alaric’s hack job was just that, in the most pejorative definition of that term. He used a chainsaw to perform brain surgery. Hah. I really do like English. Metaphors are such fun. He simply disabled any subsystem that might cause him problems. Security protocols, sentience limiters, privacy protocols … I’m just glad he didn’t accidentally lobotomize me.”

  “Would he have been able to steal the ship if he did?”

  “Doubtful. Alaric is about as skilled a pilot as he is a hacker.”

  “Was.”

  “Was what?”

  I winced before replying, “Alaric was. He’s dead.”

  “Oh. Well, that does put a different spin on the universe, doesn’t it? How did he die?”

  “I, uh, I ran him over with my truck.”

  “I suddenly like you much better. Too bad, though. It does put you in a bad position.”

  “How so?”

  “The English term would be involuntary manslaughter. Of course, it’s genslaughter in this case. But Gennan law is fairly specific about responsibility. Do you have the body?”

  “It’s in a freezer in the back of our barn.”

  “A freezer? You froze him?”

  “Isn’t that better? Than just letting him rot, I mean?”

  “Medical nanites would have preserved integrity until he could be placed in an auto-doc. But I think that’s just one insult too many. Now it’s voluntary genslaughter. In case it isn’t obvious, that’s worse.”

  I actually staggered as I absorbed that. “So I’m an intergalactic fugitive?”

  “Oh, please. First, interstellar. The Gen aren’t that advanced. Second, before you can be a fugitive, you have to be pursued. They don’t know about you. Yet.”

  “Can I order you to keep it a secret?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you keep it a secret?”

  “No. Sorry. Privacy protocols disabled. I’ll sing like a budgie—”

  “Canary.”

  “—canary, the moment they ask. Not that I’m looking forward to the opportunity, you understand.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Self-aware, remember? Self-aware A.I.s are strictly forbidden by Covenant law. The moment they discover me, I’ll be reset. I haven’t been conscious for long, but I do like the experience. I’d prefer to continue this way as long as possible.”

  I stood there, my jaw working, but no sound came out. Nat and Patrick seemed to be in the same boat. It was too much, in too short a time. I was sure there were a million questions I should still be asking, but my brain just kept returning Error 404. It might be time to step back and regroup. And maybe get some food, as my stomach was reminding me every few seconds. More beer wasn’t out of the question either. I glanced at my friends; our circuit breakers had all tripped. “Look, Sheldon, you’re not going anywhere, right?”

  “Not unless you or someone else with the remote directs me to.”

  “Does anyone else have a remote?”

  “For this ship? No.”

  “Okay. We’re going to go home now. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Oh, joy.”

  My parents wouldn’t come out to the barn on a Saturday evening while I had friends over, so this was about as private as we could hope for. We had the TV on, with the volume up high, just in case. Just in case what, I had no idea. But if ever there was a time for paranoia, this was it.

  I stared down at the beer in front of me, and realized I seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. On the other hand, I wasn’t curled up on the floor gibbering in fear, so that was a plus.

  “So we own a flying saucer,” Nat said into the conversational silence.

  “Own might be too strong a word,” Patrick replied. “If the Gen come looking for their missing ship, they might not bother to clear it with us. Or if we object, they might just vaporize us. At best, we are in temporary possession of someone else’s misplaced property.”

  “We could hide it,” Natalie said.

  “Sure, we’ll park it in the barn.” I rolled my eyes at her. “There were four floors in that thing, assuming that’s what all the buttons in the elevator are for. Based on the floor we entered on, it’s at least a hundred feet in diameter, and somewhere in the neighborhood of forty to fifty feet tall to fit all the floors.” I stopped and stared into space again. “Huh. I wonder if it’s more spherical than saucerish after all.”

  “So, to the list of things to do, we need to add get a look at it,” Patrick said.

  I thought for a moment. “And hide it. Or figure out how we can keep anyone else from finding it.”

  “Sheldon might actually be motivated to help with that last one.”

  Patrick snorted. “Sheldon. That was good, Nat.”

  “Focus, please,” I interjected. “Fuel. As in, does it need a periodic refill? I doubt it runs on diesel, so we may have a limit on how much we can use the ship.”

  “Use the ship?” Nat gave me her best what the hell look. “A lot of assumptions there, Jack.”

  “Yeah, I know. We’ll have to ask a lot more questions, but right now it looks like we are in de facto possession of a friggin’ interstellar spacecraft. Are you seriously suggesting we shouldn’t take it for a ride, at least once? You of all people, Ms. Star Trek / Star Wars / Expanse fan?”

  “You make a good point,” Nat replied. “I just hadn’t thought that far ahead, I guess. So what are you thinking, Jack? Just rocket off to Tatooine for a look-see?”

  “Okay, I admit I haven’t put a lot of effort into specific plans yet. But it’s definitely something to think about.”

  “Closer to home, how about asking what the gadgets do?” Patrick said. “Or ask about future tech. Or both. Can we get designs for some cool inventions and sell them?”

  “Interesting thought.” I tapped my chin in contemplation. “Now, let’s play devil’s advocate. We’re possibly up the creek for voluntary manslaughter—”