Free Shadows of Golstar by Terrence Scott

transcription of his final intention.”
    “Talk about confusing… let me make sure I understand,”
Owens interrupted. “The original, living Hec uploaded a message. In it,
he told you of his plan for switching the AI modules.”
    “That’s right,” the AI answered. Then the AI told
Owens he received no further updates from the original Hec after receiving the
description of the idea. The first conscious thought the AI had, was awaking in the late model Rialto.  It was obvious something had gone very wrong.
 
    “Okay,” Owens said, “What was his plan?”
    “Hec’s message described his idea to engage a
part-time worker whom he… or rather I had occasioned to use in the
past,” the AI responded. “He planned to have the worker do the switch. By my
present circumstance, it’s obvious this man must have thoroughly bungled the
job.”  
    Accessing Hec’s implanted memories, the AI recalled
there was a number AI modules mounted on service stands arrayed around the work
area in Hec’s shop. AI equipment cases and their interface plugs were
standardized and to the eye, were identical. The AI went on to surmise the
worker had somehow confused the serial numbers he had received from the human
Hec, which was the only way to identify the module designated for the A7.
    “When I found myself in the Rialto,” the Hec AI
continued.  “My real self had already made the trip to the cryo-center. I
guess he was slipping fast and left the completion of the final task in what he
thought were the worker’s capable hands. The real ‘me’ probably went to sleep,
serene in the knowledge that everything was taken care of and at least a part
of his dream would finally come true."  
    Owens asked, “What do you think happened?”
    “In my memories as the human Hec, I remember thinking
I needed to replace the original refurbished AI back in my Rialto so it could
be sold off with the proceeds added to my assets. You know, I was always
tinkering with the thing. I must have lost control before I placed it back in
the Rialto. I can only now assume I had left additional instructions for the
worker to take care of the Rialto.”
    “So,” said Owens. “This worker must have mixed up the
modules. You ended up in the Rialto and the Rialto’s original AI ended up in
the A7 servitor.”
    “That seems to be the only answer,” agreed the AI. “I
can just imagine the crew’s reaction when the servitor started signaling the
ship’s core computer for data input intended for weather, grid maps and surface
traffic road conditions.”  The AI fell silent.
    The silence stretched to a minute. Then, shaking his
head, Owens said, “Okay. Okay, let’s say I believe this wild story. I still
don’t understand why you blew your cover. The shutdown mode is a simple ship
safety protocol. All it does, as I understand it, is prepare you to disconnect from
the Rialto’s onboard reactor so we can power it down for safe storage when
we’re in space. Basically, you go to sleep at a minimal power level on
your own internal backup battery. So what triggered the balk?”
    “That would have been a real problem. You see the
modification I made to this module took up a lot of space,” the AI answered
sheepishly. “Actually, the modification took up more space than was available,
but I needed to keep the external dimensions unchanged if it were to fit
properly in an AI receptacle.”
    “So,” Owens said. “Since the mod needed more space
than was available, you obviously had to sacrifice something.”
    “Well, yes,” the AI admitted. “The extra memory and
interface hardware consumed about seventy percent of the space normally used to
accommodate the AI’s battery. The original battery had to be replaced with a
much smaller one. My reserve is now down to twelve standards, instead of the
normal sixty. Still, I didn’t see that as a problem. I expected to have regular
access to the A7’s on-board ship reactor. A servitor is not typically