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“Welcome aboard the USS Hephaestus Space Station. My name is Hera, a second generation A.I. I am an MX500 Class Adjutant Program, the ship’s mother program and your auto-pilot. For any and all questions, queries and complaints, please direct to me and I will do my best to help you accomplish your mission tasks.”
She sounded so chirpy and upbeat.
Officer Douglas Eiffel, a short man with a BMI that probably wouldn’t have gotten him onto this mission if it weren’t for his… special circumstances, as Mr. Cutter liked to call it, looked up at the ceiling and grinned; “Wicked! This is so Star Trek!”
I sighed inaudibly. I don’t know what Cutter thought when he threw this crew together, but it was a serious intellectual and social downgrade from my previous missions. Commander Minkowski, a tall Polish woman in her late thirties, was too ambitious, too happy to be here, too glad to be the one calling the shots.
And Communications Officer Eiffel… Where do I even start with that man? He’s lazy, incompetent, unprepared and totally unfit for the job.
Which makes him perfectly fit for my job.
The moment we left the shuttle I immediately went back into the Station to secure that any and all evidence of my previous stay on the Hephaestus had been properly cleared away.
First stop, my old laboratory.
Walking around the station, I was taken back to Lovelace, Fourier, Hui and Fisher. I could nearly see them walking alongside me, their eyes burning my flesh. I didn’t miss them, not for a second, but being in this environment without them, their absence burned harder than their presence ever had.
When I arrived in the corridor that would lead to my laboratory, I was pleased to see that there wasn’t even a door anymore. The blueprints in our mission dossier hadn’t shown the room, but I needed to be sure for myself.
Still in the clear, second stop.
My old quarters.
When I had left the Hephaestus last time, after the late Captain Lovelace had crashed her shuttle, our shuttle, into Wolf 359 and met her untimely end, my departure had been rushed.
Colonel Kepler had reassured me that he had taken all my research with him, and I am not a materialistic man, so there were little personal effects, but I needed to be certain. The dossier had assigned me the exact same room as last mission, for its tactical location right next to the sickbay.
I floated over to the door and opened it, to find literally nothing had changed. My hard drive had been replaced with a newer model, but my books and other research papers hadn’t even been moved. But that was okay, only I had access to this room, and the AI probably assumed that, because it was there already, it wasn’t mine.
I packed away my things. The few books I had brought with me, a couple of spare clothing items (although regulations stated clearly that we had to wear the Goddard Futuristic issued jumpsuits, Officer Eiffel had managed to break that rule on the second day of the shuttle ride and continuously came to breakfast wearing t-shirts reading ‘PIZZA’ with a picture of a guy with a moustache, and ‘Meows it going?’ with a picture of a cat, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem if I decide to wear a flannel every now and then), and some contraband snickers I smuggled on board.
I felt underneath the bed, where I, if I remembered correctly, I left my most important possession the last time I left the Hephaestus.
It was still there. I pulled a little at the tape around it and it came loose, floating out for me to catch.
I grabbed it mid-air, although I suppose everything is mid-air here in space, and turned it over. She was still there, smiling at me, from atop the giant Saint Bernard, with me standing next to her. Her long white curls tumbled besides her face and I could almost hear her laughter from the picture.
“Olga,” I whispered softly. “I’m going to try again. For you.”
I tucked the picture inside my clothing. Wasn’t going to risk it leaving her behind again.
“What’s that, Doctor Hilbert?” Asked Hera, the AI unit.
Damn it all, I had almost forgotten about her. I scraped my throat, annoyed and said; “Nothing, Hera. Please implement security code thirty-two dash F.”
She glitched heavily. “I… I- yes Sir. Security code implemented.”
“That will take care of you nosy habits.” I growled. “Why did Cutter have to pick you?”
“I…” she glitched again. “I-‘m sorry, sir?”
“Just keep your mouth shut unless I address you directly,” I said. “Understood?”
“Y-yes Sir.”
“Time to get to work, then.”