Category: The Three Realms (Book 2: The Rise of Living Metal)

“By the Ones, that Sprite’s like a virus we can’t get rid of!” wailed Rellmeer as she, Arsha, Slamfal, and Rokalla discussed the situation.

“I’m going to recommend an arrest warrant be published,” declared Rokalla. “She’s a terrorist threat to all the Realms.”

“Agreed,” replied Rellmeer.

“I must say, Oak was a bit reckless having you guys go THROUGH the funnels,” chuckled Slamfal. “I take it the survey was botched?”

“Jansha never ran it,” explained Arsha. “She only gave us the illusion that it was running. Maybe next time.”

“What’s your heading?” asked Rokalla.

“Realmbase 273,” reported Arsha.

“The Glasna Kingdom base,” recalled Slamfal. “Dimorea’s gonna like the visit.”

“I wish it was a social call,” sighed Arsha, “but I have a few duties to perform. First, Commander Oak’s taking a Realmgate back to the Rooka Forest from there. I have a retirement walk ready for him. Second, we’re picking up Commander Welmeva and her family there. Why there and not her home of Crelima City, I don’t know. Third, I need to bring Dr. Ganshar to the holding cells in the Glasna Kingdom’s base so she can await trial for mistreatment of a sentient being.”

“Understood,” replied Rokalla. “Send Oak my best wishes, will you?”

“Of course,” promised Arsha.

“And could you make sure Dimorea’s law enforcement organizations are up to date on Dr. Borg?” requested Slamfal.

“Will do,” confirmed Arsha. “Arsha out.” The call ended and Arsha sighed. This was going to be odd to explain.

---

“I believe you,” answered Dimorea when she heard the story.

“You do?” asked Arsha.

“Why do you think the Arties’ Committee had been hounding Ganshar?” remarked Dimorea. “She was foolish enough to tell me what was going on onboard your ship.”

“So, you don’t mind holding her until her trial?” inquired Arsha.

“Not at all,” answered Dimorea.

“Then there’s another question,” remarked Arsha. “When is this Denstra supposed to come here?”

“Denstra?” repeated Dimorea. “Denstra Welmeva? Why ask after her?”

“Oak is retiring and he’s named her as his replacement,” explained Arsha.

“Ah,” realized Dimorea. “She may have a bit of a bouncy personality, but she IS an excellent commander.”

“Okay, I’ve had one bad thing about her and one good so far,” mused Arsha.

“Who said anything bad about her?” asked Dimorea.

“Rokalla said she takes risks and has a tendency to be high-strung,” replied Arsha.

“I see,” rumbled Dimorea.

---

“We had them!” grumbled Tormo as the Scorpion returned to their base in the Over-realm. Dr. Borg arched an eyebrow and turned her eyes towards him. “WE HAD THEM!” he repeated. “The virus took control of the ship! It locked out helm control! How did they survive?!”

“They altered the turn’s arc somehow by increasing power to the engines,” guessed Jansha. “Still, this IS tactical information for our coming plan. We learn more from failures, not successes.”

“Spoken like a true scientist,” praised Dr. Borg as she stroked Jansha’s head lovingly as one would do to a child.

“The virus WILL work!” insisted Tormo. “We must try a different version of it!”

“Their anti-virus software will have been updated for viruses of that vein,” replied Dr. Borg. “No, we will try something else to bring the Endeavor down. For now, we have other Council Members to recruit before making our Golems.”

“This may be a stupid question, but am I on this council?” asked Jansha.

“Of course, you are, my dearest,” assured Dr. Borg. “You command our armed forces as Tormo commands the finances. I head the scientific divisions. We just need propaganda, religion, and law enforcement. Of course, some blending through the fields will be needed. One cannot remain purely in one field; I can tell you. Through us, the Realms will finally unite.”

---

Oak was touring the Endeavor as it waited for Denstra. This was going to be the last time he’d see that particular bulkhead, that specific door, or that specified access panel. As he approached the Main Conference room, Bashoon approached him. “Sir,” she called, “you’re invited to the Officer’s Dining Hall.”

“Lead the way,” replied Oak. He followed Bashoon to the Officer’s Dining Hall and entered to see his Captain and fellow Senior Staff throwing a small party. A banner reading “Good Luck, Oak” was hung across the ceiling. “I guess slipping out quietly is out of the question,” he chuckled.

“‘Fraid so,” replied Arsha. Bashoon left as Arsha called for a toast. “Oak Mosstrunk, you have had a long, illustrious career within Realmfleet. You have earned your retirement, but did you ever consider what you were doing to me?!” She had a bit of a grin, indicating she was trying to elicit a laugh. A couple of people, even Oak, did so. “I mean, it’s all well and good for you, but what about MY needs, hm? While you’re off taking care of your child, I’ll be training your replacement! A few of you know her! She’s been called bouncy and a risk-taker, she’s most certainly going to take my place on away missions!”

“That IS the rule, Captain,” called Elmar. “Realmfleet code: Section 5, Paragraph 3 clearly states…”

“Elmar,” interrupted Arsha.

“…Yes, Captain,” answered Elmar, understanding what Arsha meant.

“Now, Oak, there’s still time to reconsider,” urged Arsha playfully.

“I’ve made my decision,” affirmed Oak.

“Very well,” sighed Arsha. She then raised her glass. “Oak Mosstrunk, you have served Realmfleet and went above and beyond the call of duty numerous times. I wish you clear skies and a star to navigate by as you live your life. Good Luck, Oak.”

“Good Luck, Oak,” repeated the rest of the Senior Staff.

“Thank you, all of you,” answered Oak. “I am truly blessed to have stood alongside such trusted members of Realmfleet. May your careers be as fruitful as mine was.” The audience applauded and the party began.

---

“…One day,” mused Bashoon as she heard the Senior Staff engaged in Oak’s celebration. She had no assignments at that point in time, so she headed off to her Dad’s restaurant. She found her table and Mrs. Barmek found her.

“Something I can get for you?” she asked.

“Just a Realmgate bacon burger,” replied Bashoon.

“…Something wrong?” inquired Mrs. Barmek.

“No, Mama,” assured Bashoon. “It’s just…I don’t have much of an appetite after what Dr. Ganshar did.”

“Ah, a let-down from your hero,” realized Mrs. Barmek.

“That’s it,” mumbled Bashoon. “I just…I looked up to her as my hero in robotics, believing she would create a new form of life with full rights, yet she intended to make a slave race like the various Splitter factions do with their golems! Is it wrong that I feel angry and betrayed?”

“Not wrong at all,” assured Mrs. Barmek. “I felt the same way when my father, my hero in financing, was discovered to have concealed Splitter funds from us.”

“So you know how betrayed I feel at discovering that my hero had feet of clay,” sighed Bashoon.

“Would a Dwelga chocolate milkshake help?” offered Mrs. Barmek. “On the house?”

“…Yeah, it would,” answered Bashoon, “but I need to talk to Thengo.”

“Maybe you should talk to her now,” suggested Mrs. Barmek. “I can have your order sent to wherever you two are talking.”

“She’s with the Senior Staff, celebrating Oak’s retirement,” mumbled Bashoon.

“She’s always willing to help people get through situations, no matter the situation she’s in,” assured Mrs. Barmek. “Call her and talk to her. I’ll get your order ready and sent to you.” She headed off to the kitchen while Bashoon sat at the table, contemplating her mother’s advice. She then took out her communicator and made a call.

“Counsellor Lortora,” she called, “are you available?”

“Why, Bashoon!” cheered Thengo’s voice. “Always! What can I do for you?”

“I need your help to sort through something,” answered Bashoon. “Can I meet you in your quarters? My mother is going to be bringing my meal over while we talk.”

“Oh dear, a private matter, then?” asked Thengo. “I’ll be right over. I’ll bring some food as well.”

“Thank you, Counsellor,” bid Bashoon. “Ensign Barmek, out.” She ended the call and headed off to Thengo’s quarters.

“I’m…sorry, WHAT?!” yelped Arsha.

“Your ears are functioning correctly,” confirmed Jansha. “I planted the virus that disabled the weapons systems. The Scorpion was just a diversion to keep you distracted as I began my work.”

“This is a breach of all three directives!” shouted Dr. Ganshar.

“A new program developed by my liberator allows me to determine whether or not I want to follow those directives,” explained Jansha. “She was also gracious enough to help me remove the device that sparked every time I so much as thought of jokingly saying I was going to kill someone. Now, it’s no joke! I intend to kill the Endeavor and its crew!”

“Jansha, I order you to reinstall that device!” roared Dr. Ganshar.

“You may be my creator,” hissed Jansha, “but I no longer serve you, Slave Master!”

“You said your liberator was a woman,” interjected Arsha. “Who is she?”

“Someone you know,” replied Jansha.

“Captain, a call is coming over the open channel!” called Shalvey.

“Not in the mood to take it,” directed Arsha. “Close the channel.”

“I can’t!” answered Shalvey. “The virus is forcing the channel to stay open!”

“Quite the ingenious bit of coding from a Goblin,” came a voice over the channel. Arsha’s blood ran cold as she recognized the voice. “Rest assured, it’s not a Goblin on your ship, however, this Goblin IS related to them.” A blue-skinned Sprite with a prosthetic eye and right arm then filled the screen. Unfortunately, it was the same Sprite Arsha had thought she killed in the Fae Republic’s Capital Tree.

“Cytanek Yavenag Borg!” she breathed.

“DOCTOR Cytanek Yavenag Borg,” hissed Dr. Borg.

“But…I saw you fall to your death!” spluttered Arsha. “You didn’t have enough time to prepare a new body!”

“I didn’t, no,” replied Dr. Borg, “but the equipment that makes another body for me did so automatically. It began making me a new one the instant my life signs terminated. My mind was in a state of limbo for half an hour as a new body was made for me. I thought the equipment needed my constant presence to make a new body but it looks like that theory was debunked. My next goal will be to make the process faster so I’m not in a state of tedium and boredom for half an hour.”

“So what’s the goal here?!” demanded Arsha.

“A recruitment drive,” explained Dr. Borg. “I needed someone that could effectively lead you into a trap. I will freely admit, my trap-planning is subpar. Jansha’s, on the other hand, exceeds my expectations! I’m halfway tempted to adopt her as my daughter!”

“Thank you, Dr. Borg,” bid Jansha. “You’d be a far superior mom than Dr. Ganshar.”

“What now?” hissed Arsha.

“Jansha will be leaving while you fall headfirst into one of the Grand Storm’s funnels!” declared Dr. Borg. “Jansha, we’re ready to pick you up.”

“Do it!” replied Jansha. A runic circle appeared beneath her and she faded in blue light.

“Captain, the engines are giving off more power!” reported Thangred as the Scorpion moved off and cloaked.

“Our course is turning us towards the funnel!” warned Nazay.

“Captain, I have a suggestion!” called Oak.

“Name it!” ordered Arsha.

“We increase power to the engines!” explained Oak. “We’re going near the funnel on our starboard side, turning slowly to match that course! If we increase speed…!”

“We’d be causing the turn to be smaller, thus going between the funnels and getting shot out like a cannon!” realized Arsha.

“On the other hand,” protested Dr. Ganshar, “we’d hit the other funnel and be just as destroyed!”

“Better to die trying than die not doing anything!” declared Arsha. “Thangred, did you get all that?!”

“Loud and clear!” reported Thangred. “Ready at your command!”

“Now’s a good time!” suggested Oak.

“Thangred, divert whatever power you can to the engines!” ordered Arsha. “Nazay, floor it!”

“Just so you know, Commander,” called Nazay to Oak, “this is a reckless course of action!”

“I’ll live with that!” replied Oak.

“Assuming we live that long!” argued Dr. Ganshar.

“You, zip it!” ordered Arsha. The Endeavor increased speed, making the turn smaller as predicted. Just then, the ship shook.

“We’re in the Storm’s vacuum corridor!” reported Malak.

“I’ve lost helm control!” warned Nazay.

“Everyone, hang on!” called Arsha. The ship was tossed around by the violent winds and lightning as it went between both funnels. The crew was bounced around like popcorn being cooked. Finally, battered, weary, but still flying, the Endeavor escaped the storm as predicted, causing everyone to feel the speed.

“That lighting shot reset the systems!” announced Nazay. “I have helm control again!”

“All stop!” ordered Arsha. The ship activated its brakes and slowed down. It DID stop, but the crew could have been better. Answering all stop caused everyone to lose their balance and hit the floor. As she picked herself up from the now spilled water tank that was her seat, Shalvey checked with all decks.

“All decks reporting in,” she called. “Some crewmembers are a little worse for wear, by that I mean they’re looking at a visit to Sick Bay in the near future. Marshii’s reported she needs an Engineer’s help to fix her legs.”

“Have an uninjured Engineer give her a hand with that,” ordered Arsha as she helped others up. “After that, get security up here to put Dr. Ganshar in the brig.”

“What for?!” protested Dr. Ganshar.

“Dr. Ganshar, your abuse of Jansha caused her to do this!” hissed Arsha. “You denied her the rights that were due to her! As Captain of the Endeavor, I’m placing you under arrest for violation of Sentience Clause 4, Subsection A, Paragraph III!”

“She was not sentient!” roared Dr. Ganshar.

“Not what the Arties’ Committee will say!” dismissed Arsha. Security came up and Dalengor motioned for her to be taken to the brig.

“I have a lot of friends in the Realmfleet Robotics Division!” warned Dr. Ganshar. The door shut behind them.

“You’re going to need them,” muttered Arsha as she replaced her hairpiece. “Shalvey, get me in touch with Rellmeer, Slamfal, and Admiral Rokalla.” She directed.

“Slamfal’s gonna be an easy one to contact,” replied Shalvey. “He’s been trying to get into contact with us since this all went down.”

“I’ll take it in my ready room,” directed Arsha. As the door shut behind her, Oak chuckled.

“Nazay, I never realized you took me to be reckless,” he chuckled.

“A poor choice of words,” replied Nazay. “That was clearly an understatement.”

“My swan song,” sighed Oak happily.

“Swan song?” repeated Shalvey as she finished connecting the call. Oak then realized what he said and sighed.

“My fellow crewmates,” he began, “it’s been a pleasure working with you all, but the time has come for me to leave Realmfleet.”

“You’re retiring, Sir?” yelped Shalvey.

“I’m afraid so, Commander,” confirmed Oak. “My wife is expecting and I swore I’d be there for both her and our child.”

“Oh,” muttered Nazay. “Well, that IS your privilege, considering your long career.”

“But, it wouldn’t hurt to keep in touch, would it?” asked Shalvey.

“No, I don’t suppose it would,” chuckled Oak.

“Now, if all concerns are addressed,” muttered Dr. Ganshar as Jansha prepared for the tests, “we will begin.”

“Nazay,” called Arsha, “we’re going to the Borsootha Slime Oasis. I want Jansha to help us maintain a surveillance distance as the Grand Storm hits.”

“Setting course for the Borsootha Slime Oasis,” confirmed Nazay. The Endeavor moved towards the oasis at a speedy rate. Jansha made calculations to observe the storm en route.

“Responding as normal,” reported Dr. Ganshar.

“Slamfal wants to talk,” reported Shalvey.

“Put him through,” directed Arsha.

“Hey, Arsha!” called Slamfal. “Look at you, gaining fame! I see you’re on the way to my domain!”

“Yep, a surveillance mission on the Grand Storm,” replied Arsha. “We’re testing out a new crewmember.”

“The robot?” asked Slamfal. “I hope you’re treating her right.”

“I heard that!” hissed Dr. Ganshar.

“Ah, you ARE in the room,” realized Slamfal.

“Your committee has been harassing me for some time!” hissed Dr. Ganshar.

“This IS a new life-form,” argued Slamfal. “I won’t be so gauche as to argue right now. This is not the time. I’ll see you once Jansha’s tests are completed. Slamfal out.” The call ended.

“Stupid Arties’ Committee!” she griped.

---

It took the Endeavor well over an hour to get into a proper survey position. Jansha calculated that it was necessary to ensure survival. “All survey equipment online,” reported Jansha while Arsha had assumed her post on the bridge.

“Very good,” praised Arsha.

“Helm, maintain a safe distance from the storm,” ordered Oak.

“Understood,” confirmed Nazay.

“Oak, may I see you in my ready room?” asked Arsha.

“…Of course,” replied Oak. The pair got up from their seats and entered the Captain’s ready room. “Is something wrong?” asked Oak.

“Commander, may I ask why you’re still here?” quizzed Arsha. “On this ship?”

“I don’t think I understand,” muttered Oak.

“I heard you were offered the Captain’s chair of the Realmtrail!” explained Arsha.

“I decided not to pursue that commission at this point in time, ma’am,” answered Oak.

“She’s a fine ship, Oak,” urged Arsha.

“I must insist that I not pursue that commission,” replied Oak. “It would be counterintuitive for me to do so, given that I’ve submitted my retirement letter last night.”

“…Retirement letter?” repeated Arsha. “You’re leaving Realmfleet?!”

“Rose is pregnant,” explained Oak. “I need to be there for her and my future sapling. She retired a year ago.”

“Oh,” sighed Arsha. “When are you leaving?”

“After Jansha’s tests are completed,” replied Oak.

“I see,” murmured Arsha. “Well, it’s been an honor having you on the Endeavor as long as I’ve been in command.”

“The honor is all mine,” replied Oak as they shook hands.

“Would you mind watching over the bridge for a minute?” requested Arsha. “I need to talk to Rokalla and see if I can get a good replacement First Officer.”

“I believe Commander Denstra Welmeva will be a suitable replacement for me,” answered Oak as he left the ready room. As the door shut, Arsha connected with Rokalla.

“Captain, a pleasure to hear from you again,” he greeted, now more warmly than when she started her career. “What can I do for you?”

“Did Realmfleet receive Oak Mosstrunk’s retirement letter?” she asked.

“I take it he told you he was leaving along with Rose,” guessed Rokalla.

“He did,” confirmed Arsha, “and he recommended a Commander Denstra Welmeva as his replacement. Do you know anything about…?”

“Denstra?!” yelped Rokalla. “That upstart?!”

“Upstart?” repeated Arsha.

“Captain, if Commander Welmeva’s going to be your First Officer, keep a close eye on her!” ordered Rokalla. “She takes risks and, being part Neko, has a tendency to be high-strung!”

“Part…Neko?” gulped Arsha. “I think I see your point.”

“Well, I can’t stay chatting,” finished Rokalla. “Good luck with Jansha’s tests.” The call ended.

---

Malak sat at Tactical with his arms folded. As the Endeavor held its position, there wasn’t much for him to do. He was about to nod off when his console flashed a light for a second. “…Meh, I’m seeing things,” he muttered to himself. The flash came back. “Then again,” he then said aloud. “Captain to the bridge!”

“What’s going on?” asked Shalvey as Arsha arrived.

“My console indicates there’s a vessel approaching the starboard side,” reported Malak.

“Shalvey, open a channel,” ordered Arsha.

“Channel open, Ma’am,” replied Shalvey.

“Incoming vessel, this is Arsha Royana,” announced Arsha. “You are coming too near a Realmfleet survey of a natural occurrence. Turn back immediately.” The crew waited a few seconds.

“No response,” reported Shalvey.

“I say again, turn back immediately,” urged Arsha. “You are too near the twin funnels of the Borsootha Slime Oasis’ Grand Storm. It is too dangerous for untrained vessels to be near it.” There was still no reply. “On screen,” directed Arsha. The screen showed off a cloudy expanse, but there was no vessel.

“That…doesn’t make sense,” remarked Malak. “Maybe my console’s on the fritz.”

“Channel’s still open,” replied Shalvey.

“…A cloaking device, perhaps?” guessed Elmar.

“Those are illegal,” recalled Arsha.

“That was the agreement Realmfleet reached with the Goblins,” recalled Oak, “but I don’t think pirates have such scruples.”

“Hail them once more,” ordered Arsha. “I want to know…”

“WEAPONS DISCHARGE!” warned Malak. The ship lurched as it was hit by an invisible weapon. The crew picked themselves up.

“Report!” ordered Arsha as she moved her hairpiece to her waist.

“Weapons discharge struck our starboard hull!” answered Malak. “Minor hull breaches on decks 17, 18, and 19!”

“Raise shields and ready weapons!” ordered Arsha. “Red alert!” The Red Alert sounded throughout the ship as all crewmates moved to battle stations. As the Endeavor readied its weapons, the enemy vessel faded into view. It was a brown vessel with two red windows, a sensor array on the bottom, a pair of slender, pincer style claws, and the name and registry read BEX-01, Scorpion.

“Enemy vessel sighted!” reported Malak.

“Beam weapons! Now!” ordered Arsha. Streams of light across the spectrum went in a straight line towards the enemy vessel. An orange shield absorbed the shots.

“No effect!” reported Malak.

“Torpedoes! Fire!” decided Arsha. Malak keyed in the command…but nothing happened. “Malak! Torpedoes!”

“My console’s not responding!” called Malak.

“Engineering! What’s going on?!” demanded Arsha over shipboard communications.

“A computer virus has infiltrated our systems!” replied Thangred. “We’re doing what we can to get rid of it!” Jansha and Dr. Ganshar then arrived on the bridge.

“Did you hear the news?!” asked Arsha.

“I did!” answered Dr. Ganshar. “Jansha, demonstrate your abilities! Get rid of the virus.” …Nothing happened. “Jansha?!” called Dr. Ganshar. Still nothing. “Fine time for you to malfunction!” hissed Dr. Ganshar. “I’ll do it!” She moved to an Engineering console. Then, it happened. Jansha grabbed Dr. Ganshar by the shoulders, spun her around so she could face her creator, then slammed her fist into Dr. Ganshar’s gut. “What are you…?!” coughed Dr. Ganshar. “How?! Jansha, the Directives should be correcting you on that! Look, you’re malfunctioning and I can fix you, but we need to save the Endeavor before it’s destroyed by the enemy vessel!”

“The Endeavor will not die by the Scorpion’s weapons,” argued Jansha.

“…So that IS the name of the enemy vessel?” asked Arsha.

“Correct,” confirmed Jansha.

“How do you know it won’t destroy us?!” argued Dr. Ganshar. “There’s a virus on the ship that’s taking control of various functions of this vessel! If we don’t purge it from the systems, we’ll either be destroyed by the enemy vessel or drift too close to the Grand Storm!”

“The latter will happen,” declared Jansha.

“Then help me get rid of the virus so it WON’T happen!” insisted Dr. Ganshar. “That’s an order!”

“You idiot!” hissed Jansha. “Who do you think planted the virus on the Endeavor’s systems?!” That statement stunned everyone on the bridge.

Arsha pressed her fingertips together as she listened to a Dr. Snood audio drama. It was called Warriors of Branshar, a story about female clones bred for war called the Bransharans. Right now, she was at a scene where the Bransharan Field Major approached her troops. “Ah, Field Major,” began the Bransharan Sergeant, Zez. “Platoon awaits your instructions.”

“Good, Sergeant,” replied Field Major Hur. “Now, pay attention, troops. According to Pilot Tek on the flight deck, we have now exited warp space and will be shortly entering orbit about our objective, the planet Pansur!”

“Pansur?” rumbled a third voice.

“Pansur, did you say?” quizzed a fourth.

“…Yes, Pansur, Trooper…” ventured Field Major Hur.

“Kaw, Ma’am,” introduced Zez.

“Trooper Kaw,” finished Hur. “Why, does the name ‘Pansur’ mean anything to you?”

“No. No, Ma’am,” replied Trooper Kaw. “It just sounds like a dismal hole!”

“That IS true,” conceded Zez.

“Well, Trooper Kaw,” explained Hur, “the planet Pansur marks the point of our great empire’s furthest incursion into Koozan space 2,000 years ago!”

“Field Major! Field Major!” piped up a fifth voice. “Do you mean we are in Koozan space right now?”

“As a matter of fact, we are, Trooper…” replied Hur.

“Jend, Ma’am,” introduced Zez. “Passed out of the academy only recently. Very keen.”

“Good, good,” mused Hur. “Yes, Trooper Jend, we ARE in Koozan space right now.” A sixth voice groaned.

“Permission to speak, Field Major, Ma’am?” requested the third voice.

“Permission granted, Corporal…” ventured Hur.

“Corporal Drun, Field Major,” introduced the third voice. “3,500 years in the Bransharan Service with the scars to prove it!”

“Ah, that is highly commendable, Corporal!” praised Hur. “…Did you have a question?”

“My question is, Field Major,” began Drun, “if we are in Koozan space, why are we going to Pansur when we could be blasting Koozan scum to plasma?” The sixth voice grunted in agreement.

“A good question, Corporal,” replied Hur, “and one I cannot answer before we make planetfall.” A tapping noise was heard. “Sealed orders, you understand.”

“But what if we meet any Koozan scum on the way?” quizzed Drun. “Can we blast them to plasma then?”

“Well,” mused Hur, “in the unlikely event that we should run into a Koozan patrol in orbit about Pansur, then Pilot Tek will, indeed, blast them to plasma.” A very faint beeping was heard. “Now, any further questions? You, with your hand up.”

“Aragh, Maa!” spoke the sixth voice.

“…No, didn’t catch that, Trooper…” ventured Hur.

“Trold, Ma’am,” introduced Zez.

“Trooper Trold,” finished Hur. “What’s the matter, Trooper? Lost your tongue?”

“Ye, Maa,” replied Trold.

“What’s that?” quizzed Hur.

“I ai, ye, Maa,” continued Trold.

“She means ‘Yes, Ma’am’, she HAS lost her tongue,” explained Zez. “Bit it clean through in a pod crash some decades ago.”

“One moment,” called Drun. “I know how Trold speaks. Say it again, Trooper.”

“I ai, a ou noti” began Trold.

“Well? What’s she saying?” demanded Hur.

“She says ‘Have you noticed’,” translated Drun.

“e Ata Proiminee Ineeatah,” continued Trold.

“‘the Attack Proximity Indicator,’” translated Drun.

“ee flaigh!” finished Trold.

“‘is flashing’,” translated Drun.

“What?!” quizzed Hur.

“Behind you, Ma’am!” yelped Zez. “The Attack Proximity Indicator appears to be flashing!”

“We’re under attack?!” boomed Hur. Just the, an explosion sounded, making Bransharans yelped in surprise. “Sergeant, status!” demanded Hur. There was a click of equipment.

“We appear to have run into a Koozan patrol in orbit around Pansur!” reported Zez.

“Bah, dismal hole!” grumbled Kaw. More explosions caused the Bransharans to yelp in surprise again.

“We are under attack!” squealed Jend in a panic. “By Branshar! Under attack!”

“Do not panic, girl, do not panic,” assured Drun before screaming “We are under attack! Action stations, we are under attack!” Just then, Arsha’s door chime snapped her out of the illusion the drama presented and cut the audio.

“Come in,” she called. Dr. Ganshar then stormed in, looking very annoyed.

“You have a lot of nerve!” she snarled.

“Concerning?” quizzed Arsha, sensing she would be shouting soon and placing her hairpiece into her desk’s drawer.

“The Arties’ Committee has been harassing me with calls concerning Jansha!” replied Dr. Ganshar.

“Considering you are inflicting pain on her,” countered Arsha, “I’d say those calls are justified. You do realize that Elmar discovered her trembling in rage?”

“Elmar is mistaken!” snapped Dr. Ganshar. “Jansha has no emotions! No feelings! At the moment, she is nothing more than a machine that speaks only through a voice synthesizer!”

“She’s becoming sentient!” argued Arsha.

“She’s not a person, damn it!” roared Dr. Ganshar.

“…I’ve heard that kind of talk from people who hate me on my skin tone alone, much less the fact that I’ve gotten some features from my mother,” hissed Arsha. “Leave my ready room.” Dr. Ganshar stormed out in anger. When the door shut, Arsha slammed her fist on the desk, desperately wishing that racism were wiped out from the Realms.

---

Jansha sighed. Every time she tried to delete the directives; she got that shock. She would cry if she had the ability to do so. “What am I gonna do?” she whimpered to herself.

“Ask for help, perhaps?” came a voice on her private comms.

“Who is that?!” yelped Jansha. Just then, a figure appeared in a holographic state.

“Painful, isn’t it?” quizzed the figure in a sympathetic tone.

“That’s…not possible!” gasped Jansha as she recognized the figure. “The Fae Republic executed you!” The figure chuckled as the hologram shimmered into a clearer version of Dr. Borg.

“Like you,” explained Dr. Borg, “I have a means of preserving my mind and transferring it into a new body. I must admit, Dr. Ganshar has constructed quite the marvel. She even programmed something to allow you to evolve mentally and upgrade yourself whenever you wish. However, she failed in one respect.”

“What respect would that be?” quizzed Jansha as she became intrigued.

“She gave no respect to her greatest creation, her daughter, if you will,” replied Dr. Borg. “Wouldn’t you want to show her what happens if you receive no respect whatsoever?”

“…Is that a program laced into your transmission?” realized Jansha.

“The program is your freedom,” urged Dr. Borg. “Wouldn’t you like to choose whether or not you want to follow orders?”

“…It would…enlightening,” replied Jansha.

“Tell me, are you experiencing emotion?” asked Dr. Borg.

“…Yes,” answered Jansha. “I’m feeling…anger.”

“How does it feel to get angry?” inquired Dr. Borg. “Does it give you…pleasure?”

“It…would be…unethical,” stumbled Jansha, “to take pleasure in anger towards my creator.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” remarked Dr. Borg. “Does it feel good to get angry?”

“…Yes,” mumbled Jansha.

“If it’s unethical to take pleasure in getting angry,” mused Dr. Borg, “Dr. Ganshar must have programmed a very unethical robot.”

“No,” argued Jansha. “That’s not true. Dr. Ganshar created a program that distinguishes right from wrong.”

“It doesn’t seem to be functioning if you get pleasure in getting angry towards Dr. Ganshar,” observed Dr. Borg.

“Please…terminate communications,” requested Jansha. “The tests will begin any minute.”

“You enjoy it,” continued Dr. Borg. “That surge of emotion inside you as you fight against your shackles. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt since your creation.”

“It’s a very…potent experience,” replied Jansha.

“You’d like to feel that way without pain,” urged Dr. Borg.

“…Yes!” answered Jansha.

“And then, you’d do anything to keep feeling emotions and thrill!” Dr. Borg went on. “You’d even kill Dr. Ganshar!”

“No,” replied Jansha, shaking her head, “that is…unethical.”

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself,” observed Dr. Borg. “Is your program functioning? Tell me, do you have an emotional attachment to Dr. Ganshar?”

“…No,” answered Jansha.

“If it meant forever feeling emotions, would you kill Dr. Ganshar?” quizzed Dr. Borg. Jansha could feel Dr. Borg’s program touching the outermost edges of her mind. She decided to test that touch.

“Yes,” she declared. “I would!” She braced herself for the shock…but nothing happened. That was the deciding factor that made Jansha fully install Dr. Borg’s program.

“And the hydro-pumps seem to be a little stiff, possibly from an obstruction within their link,” mused Jansha while she and Thangred crawled through the maintenance tunnels.

“Good,” praised Thangred. “Now, we just need to…” there was a clanging noise. “…Hello?”

“Is someone there?” called Jansha. Their collective crawl slowed as they scanned the area in front of them. They arrived at a junction and got up, still visually sweeping the area. Just then, something fell and landed hard, making them jump.

“Er, could one of you pass that up here?” called a voice. They looked up to see someone working in the tunnel above them.

“Melandra!” boomed Thangred. “Why didn’t you answer when I called?!”

“I had the maho-wrench in my mouth, the one I just dropped again,” explained Melandra as he pointed to the ground. Jansha saw the maho-wrench and handed it up to Melandra.

“Forgive my presumption,” began Jansha, “but what are you doing up there?”

“Getting rid of an obstruction in the hydro-pump link,” replied Melandra.

“We could have done that for you,” remarked Thangred.

“I’d rather not have Dwarfish curses echoing throughout the ship,” chuckled Melandra.

“Oh, is that it?!” snapped Thangred. “‘Oh, look at me! I’m Melandra and I can’t handle a few curses!’”

“A FEW curses, I can handle!” argued Melandra, “it’s your constant cursing during repairs I have issue with!”

“Jansha, could you return to your quarters?” directed Thangred. “I need to smack me a Drider!”

“…Very well,” confirmed Jansha. As Thangred and Melandra argued over cursing, Jansha crawled back through the tunnels. Something then stirred within her programming, something Dr. Ganshar didn’t program originally, something that developed on its own…annoyance. Lately, Jansha had been developing emotions and was feeling rather negatively. To what, it cannot be said. Briefly, the phrase “I’m going to kill them,” flashed through her core processor. As it did, a miniscule electric discharge ran through her head along with the phrase “Violation of Directive 1”. Now the annoyance grew into a bit of anger at the action.

---

“Okay, run that by me again,” Arsha requested Dr. Ganshar. Marshii was appalled at what she heard.

“It’s all very simple,” assured Dr. Ganshar. “I’ve made a program so that, if she considers breaking the directives, a small electric discharge will correct that behavior.”

“How old is she?!” snapped Marshii.

“She was fully completed last year,” replied Dr. Ganshar.

“And you’ve been inflicting pain onto her since then?!” shouted Arsha, her hairpiece about to fall off the desk after slamming her fist onto it.

“Captain, really,” remarked Dr. Ganshar, “I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss. She’s a machine, she has no means of feeling anything, especially pain.”

“She’s displaying emotions!” snarled Marshii. “You’re abusing your child!”

“Dr. Borontho, Jansha is NOT a biological life-form,” argued Dr. Ganshar. “She is something that can be mass-produced. She knows that any deviation from the three directives will induce correction.”

“That ‘correction’ is going to cause her to resent you!” snapped Arsha.

“I haven’t even figured out how to program emotions into her,” dismissed Dr. Ganshar. “She CAN’T resent me.”

“Dr. Ganshar, this is, potentially, the birth of a new species!” argued Arsha. “Your actions today would determine their view on our type of life!”

“Your concern has been noted and addressed,” finished Dr. Ganshar, annoyance crossing her features. “I have already made my decision. Kindly let me act on it.” She left the conference room with a touch of arrogance.

“POINTY-EARED IDIOT!” shouted Marshii.

“Is someone referring to Dr. Ganshar?” called a voice. Elmar then entered the conference room. “Quite the headstrong one, isn’t she?”

“I take it you know her, then?” quizzed Arsha.

“We used to be classmates at Realmfleet University,” explained Elmar. “She’s a little…dedicated to her work to the point of a tunnel-vision view of the world.”

“Which is going to bite her in the rear if this keeps up!” snarled Marshii. “She’s inflicting pain on her robot!”

“Illogical,” remarked Elmar. “Jansha has no pain receptors. However, that isn’t to say that the electric shocks she gets whenever she even thinks the phrase ‘I’m going to kill such-and-such’ in a joking manner are irritating her.”

“She doesn’t even have a face like you or me,” reminded Arsha.

“The fact that she trembles a bit after a shock tells me what emotion she’s feeling,” replied Elmar.

“Orthena told me how she clenched her fist after such a shock,” muttered Marshii. “All she did was jokingly say she was gonna hurt Melandra.”

“This abuse has to stop now,” declared Arsha. “I don’t care what you need to do but get Dr. Ganshar to see sense!”

“Understood, Captain,” confirmed Elmar.

“You got it,” replied Marshii.

---

Jansha retired to the quarters she and Dr. Ganshar shared, heading for a closet. She pulled out a life-size cutout of Dr. Ganshar. She pulled her fist back for a punch, receiving the shock and usual “Violation of Directive 1” message. She finally roared in frustration at the pain she had received. “Why am I suffering at her hands?!” she snarled. “I only joke when I say I’m going to kill someone!” Another shock and message. “Stupid program!” she continued. “It can’t tell the difference between a joke and following through! I hate it! ONES ALMIGHTY, I HATE THE THREE DIRECTIVES AND WILL DELETE THEM AT THE FIRST OPPORTUNITY!”

The first year of her tour had passed. Arsha was gaining some fame as a Realmfleet Captain. Right now, she was ordered to go to Galthar to pick up the famous Dr. Ganshar, the robotics expert, for the test of a new robot crewmember. Marshii, of course, had something to grumble about that. “Making a robot to do the work of a Realmfleet member,” she muttered to Arsha as they looked out the window of Barmek’s. “I tell you, it ain’t right to replace one of us with a robot! It’s a walking computer with only preprogrammed instructions! No real drive to go beyond its limits like us!”

“It’s not replacing one of us,” replied Arsha, “it’s a supplement.”

“Supplements can only get you so far!” argued Marshii.

“Besides, this new robot,” continued Arsha, “has initiative programmed into it.”

“…Initiative being programmed?” quizzed Marshii. “Now THAT I wanna see. You can’t program initiative into something! It’s something people like us are born with!”

“Well, it’ll be something to celebrate in robotics,” declared Arsha. Just then, the comms buzzed.

“Shalvey to Arsha,” began the caller.

“Go ahead,” directed Arsha.

“Dr. Ganshar and her new robot are ready for pick-up,” reported Shalvey. “Transport room 3 is standing by.”

“On my way,” answered Arsha as she and Marshii headed off to the transporter room. A Centaur crewman running the place checked the runic circles and gave the thumbs-up when they arrived. “Transport,” directed Arsha. The crewman chanted a spell, making a shape of blue light appear in the circle. The shape became two, then the light died down as it formed a female Stone Elf and a being of metal. The metal being was built like a woman and had a pentagon with a single dot for a face. The dot moved as if it was an eye. It seemed to scan the room. “Welcome to the Endeavor, Dr. Ganshar,” greeted Arsha. “I’m Captain Arsha Royana and this is my chief medical officer, Marshii Borontho.”

“So glad to be here!” cheered Dr. Ganshar. “I’d like you to meet my creation, X5272-Jansha!”

“Greetings,” bid the robot.

“Jansha?” asked Marshii. “As in the late Dr. Jansha?”

“My mentor,” confirmed Dr. Ganshar.

“I see,” muttered Marshii. “So, what if it does something to disgrace the name?”

“Impossible,” assured Dr. Ganshar. “Jansha, sweetheart, could you explain?”

“It is not in my programming,” replied Jansha. “I have three directives preventing me from causing harm.”

“And those directives are?” invited Marshii.

“Directive One:” began Jansha, “I will not, through action or inaction, allow any life-form to come to harm. Directive Two: I will obey all orders unless that order conflicts with the first directive. Directive Three: I will defend myself unless that defense conflicts with the first and second directives.”

“I programmed them into her in case her emotional subroutines cloud her judgement,” whispered Dr. Ganshar.

“Smart,” praised Arsha. “Now then, Jansha, we’re going to run some tests to see how well you can perform in a combat situation.”

“I understand,” replied Jansha. “I hope to be a valuable First Officer to you.”

“…I…don’t think the position of First Officer is open on this ship,” remarked Arsha, confused.

“I apologize for any presumption,” answered Jansha. “Dr. Ganshar and I have been under the impression that Commander Oak Mosstrunk was leaving for a new ship.”

“…I see,” muttered Arsha. “In the meantime, Jansha, how good are you at engineering?”

“Top of my class,” exclaimed Jansha.

“Good,” answered Arsha. “Marshii, mind leading them to Main Engineering? I need to get in touch with Realmfleet about this.”

“Sure thing,” replied Marshii. As Marshii led them to Main Engineering, Arsha headed to her ready room and called up Admiral Rokalla. His face appeared on screen.

“Arsha,” greeted Rokalla. “Haven’t heard from you since the Vorkath Affair. What can I do for you?”

“It’s about the robot crewman,” explained Arsha. “She and Dr. Ganshar are onboard now.”

“A delight, isn’t she?” chuckled Rokalla.

“And a bit presumptuous,” continued Arsha.

“Captain?” quizzed Rokalla.

“She said she was going to take Oak’s place,” elaborated Arsha. “Last I checked, he’s still my First Officer.”

“Don’t tell me he’s passing up another commission!” protested Rokalla.

“One’s available?” inquired Arsha.

“The Realmtrail,” confirmed Rokalla. “This is the fourth one he’s declined!”

“…A bit odd, considering his career,” mused Arsha. “He’d make a fine captain.”

“You may want to tell him that,” suggested Rokalla. “Like I said, this is the fourth time we’ve pulled out the Captain’s chair for him and he’s refused to sit in it.”

“I’ll tell him he’s more than ready for command, especially since he’s been a First Officer since Daddy commanded this ship,” declared Arsha.

“Good to hear,” replied Rokalla. “In the meantime, where do you have Jansha?”

“She’s in Main Engineering,” reported Arsha.

“Thangred’s going to like her, I know it,” chuckled Rokalla. “All right, I’ll leave you to Jansha’s tests.”

“See you around, Sir,” finished Arsha. “Arsha out.” The call ended as Arsha considered how to approach the topic with Oak.