(Photo by Benjamin Farren)

There were only a few reasons for Paul Jorgenson, the mission director for the Thesis, to visit the Robotics Control Center. Most of his interactions with the RCC could be handled virtually, and he usually did just that. Even with everything going on in sector 12 he hadn’t come to personally check in on them. That was why both Min and Matiew paused in the entryway when they returned from their lunch. Mr Jorgenson was sitting in Min’s office, in her chair in fact, his expression neutral but his eyes were intense as they met and then held Matiew and Min’s gaze.

No words were spoken. It wasn’t even clear if the rest of the office knew that Mr Jorgenson was here but the uncomfortable silence made Matiew suspect that either everyone was having a very quiet lunch or else word had spread regarding their visitor.

Mr Jorgenson gave them a few seconds to center themselves and then waved for them to come into the office. They did so, Matiew shutting the door behind them as Min sat in the chair facing her desk, albeit on the opposite side from where she was accustomed to sit. As soon as Matiew was situated beside her, Mr Jorgenson let out a quiet sigh, almost more like a hiss.

Matiew’s stomach churned and he was glad he’d only eaten half of his sandwich. He’d only met Mr Jorgenson on a couple of occasions and each time it hadn’t really been much of a meeting. A brief introduction when he was first hired onto the Thesis, once more at the launch celebration, then a few more times over the intervening years but always brief and never for anything serious. This was not the way he would have liked to get to know the mission director.

“Data Transfer informed me of your conversation this morning,” Mr Jorgenson began, his voice even and calm. “I want to commend you on your foresight since otherwise I don’t think we would have caught on to what was going on.”

“About the work orders, you mean?” Min asked.

Matiew, in addition to being subordinate to the other two, was more than happy to leave the talking to Min.

“Absolutely,” Mr Jorgenson stated and gave them both a curt nod. “Realizing it was accessing the data banks and gathering information just because it had a backpack? Inspired. However,” for the first time in the conversation his expression grew more serious and less conversational, “I think both of you know I didn’t come down here to pat your backs and scatter sunshine.”

It took Matiew effort not to clench his fists or jaw as he waited to be chastised, not by some random stranger but by the highest ranking person on board the Thesis. Weak excuses wouldn’t work here. He couldn’t say he was doing his best and expect it to make any difference, even though he really was doing his best. If he lost his job now…he didn’t want to think about that possibility. Everyone who wasn’t too old or too young stayed busy on the Thesis. There was work or education for everyone. Matiew had been in the RCC ever since they’d launched and he’d hoped to retire from it in a few decades. Catastrophes aside, he really enjoyed his work. If Mr Jorgenson was now getting personally involved, Matiew worried it meant his time here was coming to an end. Then what would he do? Be assigned to work in one of the kitchens? Get sent down to do maintenance in the ship’s engines? Both were jobs he could do but neither were of any interest to him.

“The last few weeks have been tough,” Mr Jorgenson’s voice called Matiew back to the conversation. “I’ve seen the reports about people heckling and harassing you and the others here, even while you’re the ones doing everything you can to manage the situation.”

“We are, sir,” Min assured him, her voice giving away the same worries that Matiew was struggling with. “I’ll vouch for everyone down here. It’s a unique situation that’s really needing everyone to find unique solutions.”

Mr Jorgenson paused for a moment, nodding slowly. His eyes, which had been so focused on Min and Matiew, now wandered over to look at the walls. Min’s office was sparsely decorated but the few things she did display were images of her family back on Earth, a framed degree, and a few artistic renderings of a seaside town.

“There are fourteen colony ships currently en route to new worlds,” Mr Jorgenson said abruptly. “Each one to someplace humanity has never been before. Each one will take generations to reach their destination and generations more to truly claim their new homes, if they even succeed. Ancient explorers on Earth had to travel for months or even years to reach their destinations and many of them failed. Do either of you know why?”

This was the sort of question that had dozens of factually-correct answers but which the asker only wanted one. Often the answer they were after wasn’t even one of the correct ones. Matiew hated those questions. He didn’t know anyone who did. Still, he felt an odd sense of confidence and surprise when he found himself answering Mr Jorgenson’s question.

“Luck, sir,” Matiew said. “People got sick or injured. Pests got into the food or water. Storms hit at the wrong time. There’s also the unpredictable nature of people. Sometimes people look sturdy and sure until something goes wrong and then suddenly they’re panicking the worst of all.”

Mr Jorgenson studied Matiew’s face as if really considering him for the first time. “That isn’t quite what I was looking for, but yes, luck and people can make or break any venture.”

“We can’t control random occurrences,” Min said with a frown, “or at least we can’t stop them from happening.”

“No,” Mr Jorgenson agreed though his voice was firm and he finally sounded as though her was getting to the real point for his visit. “But it is your jobs to deal with them when they threaten the well-being and security of this ship, it’s crew, and it’s passengers. Do you know what I did the moment I learned about that robot accessing our data banks again and mysteriously being sent information that was well outside the normal authorizations a salon robot should have?” he didn’t wait for them to give him an answer. “I ordered them to cut it off. I know you had your reasons to leave it alone but I wasn’t willing to play that game.”

He breathed in and out a few times and he struggled with the powerful emotions he was clearly masking behind his otherwise calm exterior. Matiew waited. That couldn’t be the end of it. Mr Jorgenson had disagreed with their decision, and he was well within his rights to do so, but then why was he here? To tell them how stupid they had been? To fire them? Neither one seemed like enough of a reason for him to come down here himself. A new worry arose in Matiew’s mind as he considered the other possibilities.

“What happened when Data Transfer tried to stop BaBS-Y?” Matiew asked.

The look in Mr Jorgenson’s face, the brief hint of fear, of shame, confirmed Matiew’s fear.

“It didn’t work, did it?” Matiew pressed when Mr Jorgenson remained silent.

“It didn’t work,” Mr Jorgenson confirmed quietly.

“Did anything else happen?” Matiew knew something must have happened, otherwise it would just be the people down in Data Transfer working with Min and Matiew.

“They, uh, they lost control of their systems for a few minutes,” he told them.

Matiew and Min could only stare at him. If the elevators were the key to moving people and materials between sectors, Data Transfer was the key to moving information throughout the sectors. Without it? How would they monitor the ship’s systems? Navigation? Water and oxygen recyclers?

“It seems no one outside of Data Transfer noticed the little hiccup and they’re not sure exactly what the robot did or how it did it.”

“How did they get control back, then?” Min asked.

“That’s the thing,” Mr Jorgenson said, “nothing they did seemed to work, but after a few minutes their access returned. Some of them think it was a warning, letting us know what it could do but also showing that it isn’t wanting to go that far unless it has to.”

Matiew wanted to point out that one of the reasons he didn’t want to act too quickly with regards to BaBS-Y’s access to the data banks was the worry that it might retaliate in some way. For better or worse, however, he’d never been the sort of person to seek out that kind of validation.

“Are they still able to track it’s data input and output?” Matiew asked.

Mr Jorgenson nodded. “Not long after they regained access, they ran a full system check. Those reports, in addition to showing up for Data Transfer, also got sent to our friend in sector twelve. It then apparently accessed information on the Thesis full schematics, crew and passenger quarters assignments, and uploaded something to the data banks that no one at Data Transfer has been able to identify or locate. All they know is that several packets of data were received.”

The room was silent. Matiew felt as though his mind was moving at breakneck speed and yet for all of the frantic thinking he wasn’t coming up with anything useful. At last, Mr Jorgenson stood up. He paced around the room for a bit and then turned to the two of them.

“With pests, you send an exterminator,” he said as though thinking out loud, rather than having an end in mind. “With a storm you stow the sails and batten down the hatches. With hysterical people you have to calm them down and speak some sense into them…

He trailed off but that got Matiew thinking about something else Mr Jorgenson had said earlier in their conversation.

“Sir,” he began, “you said there are currently fourteen colony ships.”

“That’s right,” came the slow reply, as though only now was he realizing what he’d said before.

“We’re the twenty-third colony ship to leave Earth,” Matiew said.

“That’s also correct,” Mr Jorgenson frowned.

“Besides the Hermes and the Pytheas I haven’t heard of any other failed colonies.”

“Three for three,” Mr Jorgenson stated with a grimace but he didn’t leave the unspoken question unanswered. “After those first two disasters,” he explained, “it was decided that such reports would not be made public due to the negative impact those reports were having on their ability to meet crew and passenger requirements. Now, only a select few aboard each ship know the true numbers.”

Matiew chanced a glance over to Min to check her reaction to this revelation. Judging from her expression, this was not new information to her. Hot anger filled his chest but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good to give in to his impulse to shout and curse at either of them. Even still, he couldn’t sit there and say nothing.

“That’s almost a fifty percent failure rate,” he gasped. “The first ships aren’t even passed their first generation and you expect us –

“The colonies that failed,” Mr Jorgenson cut in, “did so because of infighting and societal collapse within the first three to five years of their voyage.”

“One was destroyed by an unexpected meteor shower and another due to an unknown system failure,” Min put in and Mr Jorgenson flashed her a brief glare.

“Yes, but none of the colonies who have made it as far as we have have collapsed.”

“That’s what they’ve told you?” Matiew asked.

Both Min and Mr Jorgenson nodded but Matiew caught the barest hint of doubt in their expressions. If the masses were being lied to about the success rates, how could they trust the rates they’d been given either?

“We are getting off track,” Mr Jorgenson stated, returning to the seat behind the desk and sitting down to face them once more. “We are here, now, on this ship that’s hurtling through space at incredible speeds, accelerating every moment of every day, and we have a common problem. A problem that, if not dealt with, could threaten our ability to maintain the delicate balance needed to survive.”

“Mr Jorgenson,” Matiew began, keeping his voice calm even as he seethed and wanted to shout, “with all due respect, we have been doing just that this entire time. While the situation is not resolved and has had many ups and downs, it was, I believe, on a positive trend towards our success until you intervened and alerted BaBS-Y. Now I don’t know if we can even trust what we are able to observe the robot doing. It could be feeding us false information, making it look like it’s doing one thing while in fact it’s doing something completely different.”

“We couldn’t just allow it free reign in our data banks!” Mr Jorgenson shot back.

Matiew didn’t match Mr Jorgenson’s intensity but it was still a struggle not to do so and he had to force himself to speak slowly and deliberately.

“I didn’t want it in there either, but I didn’t want to let it know that we knew what it was up to until I was sure I knew exactly what it was up to. Before, I was going to have a search run for any new software updates to make sure there wasn’t anything else lurking around in the Thesis’ systems because if it was being sent those work orders, what else had it modified? Now though? Now I would bet that any time we get close to finding anything that robot doesn’t want us to find, we’re going to have a repeat of what happened in Data Transfer earlier today when you had them try to cut BaBS-Y off. And that’s if we’re lucky.”

“I –

Mr Jorgenson began to speak but Matiew spoke right on over him.

“The next time you disagree with how we’re handling this situation,” Matiew couldn’t help but grit his teeth, “you had better come and discuss it with us first because this one thing, this one ignorant decision you made, could be the difference between our ability to handle the situation and this whole ship becoming one macabre gallery for a rogue hair dresser.”

Mr Jorgenson opened and closed his mouth a few times, each time unable to find the words he wanted to say. Finally he turned to Min.

“Your thoughts?” he asked somewhat lamely.

“I agree with Matiew in substance but not in tone,” she said flatly.

“I think we can forgive him his frustrations,” Mr Jorgenson said with a weak smile.

“No,” Min corrected him, “I meant I think he was altogether too calm. You really don’t understand how truly serious this situation has become.”

With that she leaned forward and slapped Mr Jorgenson hard across the face. Twice. He looked as though he was going to shout at her but then thought better of it and instead looked around, embarrassed.

“I suppose I’m sitting in your chair, aren’t I.”

“Yes, you are.”

Awkwardly, the two of them stood up and switched seats. Matiew wasn’t exactly thrilled to be sitting beside Mr Jorgenson but the dynamic of the room was certainly better with Min behind the desk.

“Now then,” Mr Jorgenson said, “what do we do?”