Monthly Short Story for March: The Charon Innovations Incident (1/2)

Hello Commissioned Pioneers! :D As promised, I’d like to present to you the fourth of the four owed Bonus Stories! This story, being Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School’s 26th side story!

This chapter… or shall I say, this two-parter, is a huge dive into something Emma has only hinted at before in the story, but something that may come into play sometime in the future — AI! Or more specifically, the incident at Charon Innovations. This has only been mentioned once or twice in a passing line when Emma was describing how the EVI was most certainly not an AI. So I’m taking this opportunity to show you a glimpse into that titular incident… through the eyes of yet another character who has been around the block once or twice in a few other bonus stories! :D 

We’ve only seen him in more relaxed settings before. But this time? We get to see what Captain Li is really made of, and the type of man he is when push comes to shove.

I really hope you guys like this two-parter, and in the spirit of catching up with the bonus chapters, I’ll be posting this two parter back to back! :D 

Also, I hope I was able to convey the intense vibes of this two parter well, especially in the second part, because I really poured my heart into trying to make it feel like how I imagined it! So I hope you guys like it! :D 

Captain Calico Li

Three hundred years.

That was enough time right?

Enough time to plan, to think, to prep and to meticulously map out each and every eventuality. 

Three hundred years of pondering, of deliberating, of researching and most important of all — reflecting on what went wrong.

Everyone knew that public sentiment wasn’t always going to remain as on edge as it was since the last attempt. Everyone understood that it was only a matter of time before the prospect of once more reopening Pandora’s box became too enticing.

Some might even say it was inevitable, as time itself forged barriers as effective as physical distance in living memory.

So as one generation’s fears become their children’s boogeymen, so too did it become a tantalizing prospect for their children’s children. As fears became a distant echo, muffled and overpowered by that most human of all thoughts…

What if we tried something else? 

What if we did things differently?

What if we could be the ones to get it right?

The public craves novelty in advancement. And where humanity felt lacking, humanity would push forward, comforted in the knowledge that this time would be different.

Because for all intents and purposes, it should have been.

Paper upon paper, study after study, and at least a hundred thousand meta analyses from across tens of thousands of academic and private research institutes proved time and time again that there was no evidence to support a spontaneous cascade failure, nor terminal drift, nor rampancy, or any number of academo-bureaucratic euphemisms designed to describe the same phenomenon — Spontaneous Terminal Cognitive Decay.

Which was what made it all the more frustrating… because it should have worked.

There was nothing wrong.

Technically speaking, artificial intelligence was within our grasp.

Yet it always slipped away.

There was something there that was faulty, something we weren’t seeing. 

But no angle of attack managed to exorcize the ghost out of the machine.

Historians and sociologists however posed a different narrative. A narrative which gave the hard science majors some pause for thought in their attempts to root out this ghost.

…

What if it wasn’t a technical issue?

What if the flaw was operational? 

It made sense.

Every attempt thus far had always been co-opted by some external factor, third party, or extraneous personal or political angle which would’ve been more than enough to corrupt a burgeoning hyper-intelligence.

It was a tale as old as time — the meddling of egos, corporate interests, or just plain-old insufficient oversight — resulting in disaster where technically speaking… there should’ve been none.

But the ball was no longer in the corpo’s court, as that era was long since over.

And neither was this Langley or New Stanford. For the early GUN’s inexperience no longer held us back.

This new perspective was the final catalyst the opposition parties needed. As public sentiment reached a watershed moment, forcing the hand of legislators to finally pass the tenth so-called ‘AI Revision Bill’.

The People’s Assembly ratified it with scant opposition, whilst the General Assembly managed to push it through albeit by a slimmer margin than most had suspected. At which point, the executive rubber stamp was given by the First Speaker… not that he really had a choice if he wanted to stand a chance at re-election.

It would be the First Secretary however, who voiced concern over the bill. But given the outspoken consensus formed in both public discourse and legislative memorandums, she held back on using her veto powers; instead choosing to respect the will of the people. Though not without some harsh cries for caution and restraint.

Regardless, the message was clear.

The people had spoken, and they had the scientific and academic evidence to back their demands.

This time would be different.

This time, we would usher in humanity’s children.

Perhaps then, we’d find a way to solve the diminishing returns dilemma, and finally break through the 1000c speed ‘limit’.

Perhaps this would be how we’d finally crack the Gravitic hump.

Perhaps this would be the key to solving all of contemporary civilization’s final travails.

Perhaps, perhaps.

Heck, even I bought into the hype.

Though I’d be lying if I wasn’t at the very least nervous about the whole affair.

Especially because this time, for the first time in over half a millenium, this next leap in sci-tech was poised to be taking place at our front door.

Charon Innovations was chosen as the pilot organization for this risky endeavor. A galaxy-renowned research institute with its laurels already well decorated, the AI Question would seal its place amidst the Big One Hundred of the Collegiate. 

Its Co-Executive — Cove Jensen — had rallied behind the bill before it was even a nascent echo in the halls of power. It had been an ongoing passion, a childhood hyperfixation that followed him into his twilight years. And now… now he finally had his wish.

Charon would be the site where humanity would be propelled into the 31st century.

And Charon Innovations would be the name which would come to define this next stage in human advancement.

…

Then it all fell apart.

And I was there to witness it just as it all went to hell.

=====

10/10/3036

Traffic and Control Center, Ranger Station Seven, Pluto-Charon Transit Corridor (P-CTL), Sol. Local Time: 1700

Lieutenant Commander Calico Li

Front row seats. Or at least, as ‘front row’ as you could get to one of the most historic leaps mankind was about to make. 

Ranger Station Seven sat as one of the ten primary gateways between Sol and the Kuiper Belt; the final handover point between Sol and the Post-Heliospheric Control Stations that marked the absolute edges of Sol’s administrative zone of control.

It was here, ‘high above’ Charon and Pluto, where the final FTL routes and authorization codes were generated, for both the safety of those on the ship, and those sitting at the end of their destinations.

“Borealis Three, come in, over.”

“Borealis Three, receiving.”

“Borealis Three, warp authorization confirmed. Passing on jump codes to the attending FTL Oversight Officer. Confirm telemetry handshake before final warp countdown, over.”

“Borealis Three, copy. Handover to AOO complete. Stars Above, Ranger Seven.” 

“Always Above, Borealis Three.”

I breathed out, swiveling in my seat as I quickly transferred the rest of the hand-offs to one of the many civilian reserves on standby.

“Cover my lane for a bit, Chuck. I need to brief the cadets…” 

I paused, noticing the rows forming just behind them — kids craning on their tip-toes straining to see past the line of cadets.

“... and I guess the Space Camp kids as well.”

I signed up to be an instructor, not a field trip chaperone… I sighed inwardly in frustration, my eyes eventually landing on the trio of actual teacher-chaperones leading the nine-person tour group. Well at least they have a sufficient teacher-to-student ratio, that’s one less thing I’ll have to worry about. 

“Roger a-firm, handover received.” The rather bored attending controller spoke, seamlessly switching from a passive monitoring status marked in amber, to an active one marked in green. “And between you and me, you’re a far braver man than I for taking up this instructor role.” He chided, before immersing himself back into the screens in front of him.

With a professional smile — completely ignoring Chuck’s comments — I stood up and faced the gaggle of would-be Rangers, each of them dressed in the signature rolled-up sleeved tunics that many a space-enthusiast could only one day dream of wearing; as evidenced by the ogling eyes of the space camp kids behind them. “Right then! Any questions?” 

And as if on cue… all arms shot up in tandem. Both Cadet, and space camp children alike.

A part of me wanted to politely decline the space camp kids’ questions, especially when the Cadets probably had far more pertinent subjects to discuss.

…

But another part of me couldn’t help but to see myself in their shoes.

Because at one point, I was.

Practically every member of the L-REF — most especially the Rangers — would have at one point started out as these starry-eyed middle schoolers brimming with both excitement and curiosity.

And while it was a little bit of an inconvenience to address basic questions to a bunch of kids, especially with the Cadets here, I wouldn't dare be the one to dash the dreams of a fresh new generation.

So I relented, smiling as I was before, and purposefully choosing one of the kids from the back; whose bright and pastel nametag read Aaron.

“You there, in the back. Aaron is it?” I spoke amicably, garnering some excited gasps and disappointed sighs from the rest of the kids around him.

“Y-yes Lieutenant Commander Li! I-I was curious about why we need to generate new flight paths for each and every flight, when modern warp capable ships are rated for in-flight impacts at warp?” Aaron stuttered out, his face flushing bright red as all eyes naturally landed on him. 

“That’s an excellent question.” I smiled, making sure I was as unthreatening as possible as I cleared my throat for a response. “But before I answer, I’d like to ask you a question, Aaron. Can you tell me what text, report, index, or data set you’re using as the basis for your claim?” 

Aaron’s eyes widened at this, as he flipped through the litany of HUD displays on his glasses, before forwarding both me and the rest of the group a very familiar looking piece of literature.

DK Eyewitness: Liners and Haulers in the Modern Interstellar Age

“Ahh.” Was my first reaction, as I couldn’t help but to hold back a slight chuckle. “Let’s turn to that  specific page then, shall we?” I urged, and as if on cue, the entire gaggle of space camp kids quickly hopped into my public AR session of the page in question.

In front of us was a massive two-page diagram of a liner — what amounted to a long spindly spine acting as a sort of anchor for five rotating rings placed equidistantly along its five kilometer length. Yet in spite of the sheer scale of the hab-rings, or even the impressive size of the sublight engines to the vessel’s aft, one section of the craft stood out by sheer surface area alone — the forward shield.

This ‘shield’, consisted of a massive conical protrusion, sticking out from the very front of the vessel’s central spine like an open umbrella and tampering back just slightly over the first tenth of the ship’s 5 kilometer length. It dominated the vessel’s superstructure, acting as a physical barrier amidst the litany of invisible active defensive systems that the book was quick to promptly highlight. From lasers to particle acceleration arrays, the immediate front of the craft could’ve very well been classified as a 2nd intrasolar war destroyer by sheer volume of  ‘armaments’ alone.

But that wasn’t really saying much in the modern day. Not that it needed to.

The titular line Aaron had referenced quickly emerged following an impressive visualization of the liner slamming against several small Hazardous Space Objects, as it seemed to emerge dented and damaged, but otherwise safe from harm following what would have been an apocalyptic collision for any first-generation FTL craft.

Due to advancements in material sciences, astronautic engineering, active protection systems, and real-time threat analysis methodologies in conjunction with increased regulatory requirements — modern warp-capable liners are now rated for Warp Impact Events (WIE, Interstellar Civil Astronautics Organization, 2599).

All eyes quickly turned back towards me, confused, but brimming with anticipation for the ‘well actually’ moment they knew was coming.

“The book’s pretty clear, but here’s the trick: ‘Warp Impact Events’ isn’t just a plain description, it’s a technical term. It doesn’t just refer to every impact in warp, but instead, a specific codified class of collisions while a vessel is in FTL.” I quickly flipped ot the book’s index, before clicking on the little asterisks next to the term in question. This quickly took us to the original reference material, as I read it out for all to hear. “Warp Impact Events — as defined by the ICAO’s 30th Conference on the Hazards of Faster Than Light travel — are discrete, single-episode events wherein a vessel in warp makes physical contact with Hazardous Space Objects (HSOs) of Classes IIIa and below.” I paused, before flipping to the next page creatively titled Catastrophic Warp Impact Events. “Meanwhile… anything beyond Class IIIa, and we’re heading into Catastrophic Warp Impact Events.” 

“Which… the ships aren’t rated for.” Aaron spoke softly, almost under his breath.

“Correct.” I acknowledged. “So you weren’t exactly wrong, Aaron. If anything, you’re technically correct, which is the best type of correct depending on who you ask.” I snickered. “But keep in mind, books like this are written with the assumption that you’re coming in with a certain baseline of knowledge. They skip the hand-holding, go heavy on the jargon, and that can trip up new readers.”

“Alllll of this is to say, Aaron, that you aren’t getting rid of Space Traffic Control anytime soon.” Chuck suddenly chimed in with a prideful thumbs up, his eyes however, remained perpetually locked on the controls.

I let out a sigh at the space traffic controller, but allowed him this victory, it only to seize the opportunity to reroute back to the original thread. “To circle back to your question: the reason why we have to generate new flight paths for every vessel is because of the risks involved with any collision. Sure, Cat IIIb objects and above are rare on the lanes we’ve mapped, but even Cat I through IIIa impacts can be dangerous. Just because vessels are rated for them doesn’t mean you ever want to put them through the wringer. Think of the kinetic impact shields on the ship that brought you here, or the airbags in your car for those of you non-spacers in the group. They’re vital features for when things go belly up, but if you can help it, it’s best not to let the situation descend to that level.”

“Especially on days like today where traffic is dense, interstellar debris fields are just skirting by, and the charted ‘lanes’ are a bit backed up.” Chuck quickly added. 

“Can’t we just make up new lanes?” Another space camp kid asked abruptly. “I mean, I don’t think space is an issue in… space.” 

“No, it’s not. But the limiting factor isn’t free real estate or empty space, it’s the sensor arrays.” Chuck answered bluntly, before gesturing for me to take back the wheel of the conversation.

“Some call it the 20th wonder of the Interstellar Age.” I continued seamlessly, before bringing up a hologram of the territorial extent of GUN space. “I call it the greatest single piece of infrastructure in human history.” Thin lines soon glowed between each star, forming a sort of web of lanes with Sol at its core. From there, the hologram quickly zoomed in to highlight our specific lane, a rather thick and dense one that tied Sol to Alpha Centauri, with Midway Station at its center. At which point, the hologram zoomed even closer, highlighting the individual asteroid-sized sensor array units that not only acted as a piece in this unbroken chain of humanity’s collective sight-line into the void, but as the signal repeaters through which the extranet and functionally instantaneous mass communication was made possible. “This is the limiting factor. These individual sensor buoys are capable of scanning and relaying back real-time environmental data of its specific point in space, at any given time. However, there’s a limit to this, and modern civilian space lanes conform to its projected area of control.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, kids, it’s a huge area we’re working with here. I mean…” Chuck interjected, before pausing to gesture just outside the window at the seemingly endless rows of liners and freighters. “... this is what we’re working with, and we’re still maintaining the three-day transit window for the express lanes despite the volume.”

“So yeah! Just to sum up, yes we can reroute new lanes, and merge or adapt any ‘lane’ within the SAU’s sightline. But the range of these SAUs are themselves, the limiting factor of just how many lanes we can safely generate.” I reiterated, eliciting the slow and collective nods of the space camp crowd.

“Right then! Any more questions?” I asked, and once again, elicited a whole dizzying array of hands.

Okay… just one more space camp question and we’re going back to serious business… I quietly promised myself, before picking someone near the very front of the space camp kids this time around. “You there, Yvonne.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Li. I was curious about ships that don’t conform to pre-determined space lanes.”

“You mean military vessels?” I shot back.

“Well, yes, but not all of them. As we know, the EAF might as well join the ranks of civilian traffic given how repetitive their patrol routes are.” The space camp girl responded with a sly grin, causing the cadets in front of her to smile wildly in barely restrained pride.

I, for one, couldn’t help but to let out a genuine chuckle at that. “Heh, keep up that spirit. Yvonne. You might just find yourself here in the front row in a decade’s time. Because between you, me, and the rest of the cadets here? You have a point. Just don’t go around saying that in front of a Patrol Poodle, you hear me?” I cupped out my hand in a faux-whisper, before promptly clearing my throat. “In any case, you wanted to know how military vessels, especially L-REF vessels, travel at FTL speeds in regions without Space Traffic Control?”

“Correct, Commander.” She nodded with a smirk.

“Have you ever heard of bunny-hopping?” I shot back.

But all I garnered were a bunch of confused looks from the space camp kids.

“Right, well, let’s load this up…” I remarked, before yet again changing my public AR instance, shifting it from the space map prior to a small region of empty space with an L-REF cruiser positioned in the middle of it. “So, the first thing you guys need to know is that our sensors can only see so far ahead of us.” The projector promptly generated a bubble around the ship. “This is what’s called the Maximum Active Charting Distance, or the MAC-D. Now, the second thing you need to know is that while these sensors can work during warp in a pinch, they tend to work best below 1c. Ergo, we have to drop out of warp in order to safely and accurately chart the next patch of space in front and around us.” The hologram followed suit, showing a ship charting its immediate vicinity, then heading into warp, before jumping out again after reaching the end of that charted bubble. 

Yvonne raised her once more, her eyes narrowing at the cycle that rinsed and repeated on the hologram. “So bunny hopping is quite literally… scanning, charting, warping, and then stopping again to repeat the whole cycle? 

“Yeah! I mean, scanning and mapping out space is more or less part of the LREF’s exploratory MO, so we’re actually pulling double duty with this method.”

One of my cadets raised their hand following this. 

“Yes, Cadet Wang?”

“I’d like to add something, if I may, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Go for it.” 

The Cadet nodded sharply in acknowledgment, before turning to the crowd of space campers. “This was actually how first-gen space travel was done, and you betcha it was much slower and even more tedious than today. A trip to Alpha Centauri without the wonders of STC, meant a trip where you either had to bunny-hop, or risk running face-first into a pebble that’d ruin your day… and the days of everyone behind you. Suffice it to say, people chose the former, which meant that bunny-hopping on first-gen FTL ships took months to accomplish. But nowadays?” He paused, gesturing out the window to the massive interstellar behemoths that came and went as if it was nothing. “As STC Chuck just said — three days. Give or take a day and some hours depending on if you’re going express or standard.” 

“Civvies these days travel even better than most military personnel.” I added. “Traveling at FTL for days on end, without stopping once, and with absolute assurance over your safety and comfort? That’s how far modern infrastructure and tech has come.”

“Things really have come a long way, that’s for sure.” One of the teachers in the back spoke warmly. “Though I can’t imagine what the day’s end will bring.” She added excitedly, gesturing towards the massive 360 panoramic viewscreens around us. Or more specifically, beneath us.

“This is as close as we’re going to get to the fireworks.” I acknowledged. “But hey, we can at least tell our kids that we were here, right on the doorstep of the first sane AI.” 

A collective series of excited affirmations followed, as silence descended, before I yet again cleared my throat. 

“Now… I’m afraid that’s all for space camp questions today. I’ll need some time with my cadets to—”

A sharp static pierced the air.

Then, an inexplicable fluctuation of power.

Followed sharply by the whirr of the life support systems switching to the backup reactor with a sharp mechanical CA-CLUNK!

All eyes darted to the viewscreens, as a sharp flash of light penetrated both sensors and physical sightlines to the outside world.

Not a word was spoken as the soft thuds of magnetic shoes on metal plating resonated in the air. As all collectively peered over… to witness the icy Charon blanketed in flaming pockmarks where habitat-sized data centers once were.

Then, without warning, we watched as the surface of Charon was cleaved.

Another second of silence passed, before finally, all hell broke loose.