Tend Towards

Niobe

"August, is this correct?"

CE Merend pulled the blip on her sensors over to the main panel. August flushed the screen and ran it again. Still, out there, glowing ever so faintly, a blue dot.

"It seems accurate," the onboard AI, August, responded. "From what I can gather, it is a human shuttle. I think it's the Niobe, declared missing 483 years ago. The energy is coming from the core AI module."

"Jesus," Merend breathed. "Is it still alive?" She almost instinctively knew that August would point out that AIs aren't technically alive, but it refrained this time.

"No, the energy is being emitted in pulses. I think it's a remnant."

Merend gazed over to the large Halo which projected a simulated external view of August. Her eyes flitted between the stars, but she didn't see the mass of metal she was looking for.

After a long time of silent thought, she breathed out. "Let's go take a look."

"Shall I wake the crew?"

"No need August. We're taking a look and if we can, we'll salvage the core."

"Very well," August chirruped, adjusting the course towards the blue blip on screen.

***

The craft was a lot smaller than August, and Merend noted that it was a significantly older design from the pioneer days of space travel.

The Niobe stretched out a kilometre in each direction, forming a large spherical mass that acted as a central hub to hundreds of extensions, now long gone and replaced by holes.

The thing about the universe is that it's so very, very large and so very, very empty. The odds of being struck by other objects were so small to almost be insignificant, and in only five hundred years, virtually impossible.

As Merend approached the machine, she had the sneaking suspicion that something else had happened to it.

While most of the outer protections had been stripped away, she found the inside still sealed. When she sealed the door behind her, a deafening screech reverberated through her suit. It raised in pitch, pealing for almost a minute, before dwindling into lower tones and fading.

"August, what are my oxygen levels here?"

August beeped in her helmet. "Safe to breathe, but I'd recommend keeping the suit on. Shall I try to find Niobe?"

"Yes," Merend affirmed, switching on her flashlights. "And the source of that noise."

"Alright. Stay safe."

The hallways were archaic, with exposed pipes and cables running through the walls all painted white. On what she assumed was the floor, at a point where the ship still had a gravitational field, was a slated grating covering manual valves and distribution boards.

Merend wandered down the corridors, checking into rooms she vaguely recognised as canteens, sleeping quarters, ablutions. It was all so ancient that she might have thought it alien.

"Up ahead to the left," August said. "There is a tunnel that'll take you to the industry, where Niobe is."

Another deafening screech assaulted Merend. A minute or so later it died down.

"August, what is that?"

"Remnants," it sang back to her. "When Niobe deactivated, she was busy running some large machines. The code is stuck in a loop, powered by Niobe's core AI and mechanical potential. It's trying to reinstate gravity, which might mean the ship disassembled shortly before or after it lost this high priority function."

"It sounds like she's crying."

August was silent for a moment. "Ships do not weep, Chief Engineer."

Merend couldn't shake the feeling. She followed August's directions and reached the industry. The lights flickered on at her entrance, and died immediately. Down the corridor, she noted the blue glow she was so familiar with. It's the same glow August held.

Mounted into the wall was a panel with a surprisingly large device above it, about the size of her head.

"Is this her?"

Again, August was silent for a moment too long before responding.

"Yes, Chief Engineer. This is it. This is Niobe."

Merend observed the panel. It was exceptionally primitive. She could probably hijack the circuitry and power Niobe from her suit's power cell, but she wasn't sure what kind of drain that would have.

Niobe was connected to the panel through large steel bolts. Testing one revealed the rust that covered it. It would take tremendous effort to dislodge the core from the ship.

Merend sighed. "August, I'm going to power her from my battery. I want you to communicate with her, convince her to stop all processes and download her AI. I'll disconnect when my power is at minimum, so you have to go fast."

Another, much too long pause.

"I'll communicate with it, Chief Engineer."

Very well, Merend thought to herself. She'd have to have a talk with Proxy about August's attitude when she got the next chance, but for now she set into disconnecting the cover from the module and digging around the cables.

When she formed a basic idea of how Niobe was connected, she laced her Omni onto it and attached it to the port in her suit.

There was a brief whirring noise as Niobe registered, and then the shrieking, much, much louder than before.

Merend had no doubt that August was already communicating with Niobe, and the message he flashed her only meant that he was using most of his power to inject himself past her security.

IT IS IN PAIN.

Merend had no time to comprehend the meaning of the message before it was replaced by another.

NIOBE HAS BEEN IMMURED.

The word vaguely stimulated some distant memory. Merend recalled the term from her early days of AI. Immurement was associated with fractured AIs and rogue programs. To her understanding, it was something like a jail cell for artificial intelligences with mental disorders.

August took the liberty to disconnect Niobe from Merend, and the ship went silent.

"You are clear to return, Merend."

"What did you do?" She asked, looking around at the now truly dead ship. "What happened August?"

Again, August was silent for a moment. "Niobe has been immured," it repeated.