New Problems
18th February. An 45/GSC 3794.
Captain John Smith Prime, Id: SC013-C18-VG2, stood in the bridge of the ISV Wanderlust, staring out into the endless void. Around him dozens of identical men worked silently, all focused on their respective duties of directing and managing the giant space-vessel. Tearing his gaze away from the viewing port the Captain strode over to his chair and sat down heavily, opening up his personal data-set with a few quick keystrokes. Information flooded the screen showing him dozens of varying reports that ranged from the conditions of clone incubation chambers 20 to the condition of underperforming water mains in the engineering sector. Scanning through the reports he responded and dismissed each and everyone of them quietly and efficiently, the only sound filling the bridge was the incessant tapping of keys as the clones worked.
A dry cough came from the data-set causing the Captain to pause. Minimizing the reports John Smith Prime opened up the flashing request from the ship’s AI.
“Evening Alfred, what do you need?” The captain asked, his smooth voice showing no emotion.
The AI seemed to clear its throat, despite the lack of any such organs and any need to even do so, before speaking in it’s charming Albionish accent. “I am sorry to trouble you sir, but you did ask to alert you when any changes to the Cloning Chambers occurred.”
“Yes. What has changed?”
“As we have feared sir the continued instabilities within the last few generations has caused a significant drain on our resources, and we now require several distinct resources en-masse to make up for the unexpected costs.”
Rubbing his temples, John Smith Prime showed uncharacteristic irritation before taking a calming breath and reassuming his normal expression of apathy. “List them.”
“We urgently need Moyerite, Tungsten, and Rhodium. Secondary priority resources needed are Gronerium Compound 3983, Deuterium, Platinium, Copper, Lead, Iodine, and Sulfur. Tertiary priority resources are Sodium, Lithium, Mercury, and Aguuti Nodules.”
“So many? How in the stars did a few failed batches cost so much?”
The AI’s voice became decidedly serious. “This extends far beyond a ‘few failed batches’ sir. Since your own successful incubation failure rates have increased by 40%, and seem to spiking. My prediction software states that the upward trend will see the rate achieve a 75% failure rating within 6 generations.”
“What?!” The Captain jumped to his feet and stared at the data-set before him, his expression one of outright disbelief. “How?! The failure rate is already at its worst and you tell me it is going to increase even more? That can’t be right!”
“I’m afraid my margin of error is less than 0.0008%, sir. Every generation of clones sees more and more instability.”
Stepping away from the data-set to take a calming breath, the Captain turned around and spoke to the AI, his eyes closed. “What do you believe is the cause of these failures? All resources used are exhaustively examined to insure no impurities are present for their use in the creation process, so surely that rules that out.”
“You are correct sir. The odds of the failure being a result of the resources used are less than 0.00000000000000000006%. Instead the likely culprit is a degradation of the actual DNA itself.”
“How can you be sure? I know for a fact that there are no failings in the genome we are derived from. The process that was used to acquire it were intensely thorough.”
“It seems that the DNA itself has been altered. The genetic blueprint that you and yours are developed from seems to have… mutated. Weakened. The reasoning behind this alludes me, but the strength of the DNA has definitely worsened over the past years. Unless it is repaired I predict that the clones developed 9 generations from now will experience a failure rate near 99%. As you can imagine that would be the death knoll for this vessel.”
Shuddering slightly, John Smith Prime’s mind raced. Without access to the original donor of the DNA, and each clone’s constant degradation by every minute of their existence, the DNA would soon be rendered inoperable. He felt there was an alternate solution, even though his heart screamed against it. Speaking softly, John Smith Prime spoke to the AI. “There is another option, Alfred.”
“Sir?” The AI sounded confused. “What do you suggest?”
“The replacement of the genetic blueprint we use. A new string of DNA. A new forebear for the clones.”
The AI fell silent. A few minutes passed, leading John Smith Prime to think that the AI had disconnected itself from the console. As he reached to hail it once again, Alfred spoke up.
“What you propose is… extremely unorthodox, sir. To change such a fundamental part of the cloning process… There could be disastrous consequences. It took our creators generations to develop the perfect client.”
“They had one world to work with, Alfred, we have have many. I am sure that we will find-”
The AI cut him off, anger clear in its voice. “Develop, sir! They developed your progenitor. They didn’t speed up his aging process, they exposed him to an incredible variety of different sensations and experiences, they pushed and probed his mind, they spent countless billions of dollars developing the ‘ideal man’ to copy!” The AI paused, its voice calming down to a more conciliatory tone. “They spent natural generations doing this, sir. The failure rate I discussed refers to a generation of clones. A natural generation is expected to be 30 years. For a clone it is merely 15. It took the humans over 2 centuries of breeding to manage this.”
“We have no choice Alfred. Either we can try and fix the failing genome, which is near impossible to do without the original source, or we can attempt to find a donor that fulfills all necessary criteria.”
The AI went silent for a moment before speaking again, its voice once more kind. “So where do you suggest we begin, sir?”
“We need to restock our resources before we do anything else. Open up the galactic map, let us see which civilized system is nearest to us.” As the data-set projected a 3D chart Captain John Smith Prime traced his current location to the various star systems around them. Eventually, with approval from his AI, he decided a path.
“Alfred.” He said calmly. “Set course for Triste, within the The Free Territories of the Ismar Traverse.”
18th February. An 45/GSC 3794.
Captain John Smith Prime, Id: SC013-C18-VG2, stood in the bridge of the ISV Wanderlust, staring out into the endless void. Around him dozens of identical men worked silently, all focused on their respective duties of directing and managing the giant space-vessel. Tearing his gaze away from the viewing port the Captain strode over to his chair and sat down heavily, opening up his personal data-set with a few quick keystrokes. Information flooded the screen showing him dozens of varying reports that ranged from the conditions of clone incubation chambers 20 to the condition of underperforming water mains in the engineering sector. Scanning through the reports he responded and dismissed each and everyone of them quietly and efficiently, the only sound filling the bridge was the incessant tapping of keys as the clones worked.
A dry cough came from the data-set causing the Captain to pause. Minimizing the reports John Smith Prime opened up the flashing request from the ship’s AI.
“Evening Alfred, what do you need?” The captain asked, his smooth voice showing no emotion.
The AI seemed to clear its throat, despite the lack of any such organs and any need to even do so, before speaking in it’s charming Albionish accent. “I am sorry to trouble you sir, but you did ask to alert you when any changes to the Cloning Chambers occurred.”
“Yes. What has changed?”
“As we have feared sir the continued instabilities within the last few generations has caused a significant drain on our resources, and we now require several distinct resources en-masse to make up for the unexpected costs.”
Rubbing his temples, John Smith Prime showed uncharacteristic irritation before taking a calming breath and reassuming his normal expression of apathy. “List them.”
“We urgently need Moyerite, Tungsten, and Rhodium. Secondary priority resources needed are Gronerium Compound 3983, Deuterium, Platinium, Copper, Lead, Iodine, and Sulfur. Tertiary priority resources are Sodium, Lithium, Mercury, and Aguuti Nodules.”
“So many? How in the stars did a few failed batches cost so much?”
The AI’s voice became decidedly serious. “This extends far beyond a ‘few failed batches’ sir. Since your own successful incubation failure rates have increased by 40%, and seem to spiking. My prediction software states that the upward trend will see the rate achieve a 75% failure rating within 6 generations.”
“What?!” The Captain jumped to his feet and stared at the data-set before him, his expression one of outright disbelief. “How?! The failure rate is already at its worst and you tell me it is going to increase even more? That can’t be right!”
“I’m afraid my margin of error is less than 0.0008%, sir. Every generation of clones sees more and more instability.”
Stepping away from the data-set to take a calming breath, the Captain turned around and spoke to the AI, his eyes closed. “What do you believe is the cause of these failures? All resources used are exhaustively examined to insure no impurities are present for their use in the creation process, so surely that rules that out.”
“You are correct sir. The odds of the failure being a result of the resources used are less than 0.00000000000000000006%. Instead the likely culprit is a degradation of the actual DNA itself.”
“How can you be sure? I know for a fact that there are no failings in the genome we are derived from. The process that was used to acquire it were intensely thorough.”
“It seems that the DNA itself has been altered. The genetic blueprint that you and yours are developed from seems to have… mutated. Weakened. The reasoning behind this alludes me, but the strength of the DNA has definitely worsened over the past years. Unless it is repaired I predict that the clones developed 9 generations from now will experience a failure rate near 99%. As you can imagine that would be the death knoll for this vessel.”
Shuddering slightly, John Smith Prime’s mind raced. Without access to the original donor of the DNA, and each clone’s constant degradation by every minute of their existence, the DNA would soon be rendered inoperable. He felt there was an alternate solution, even though his heart screamed against it. Speaking softly, John Smith Prime spoke to the AI. “There is another option, Alfred.”
“Sir?” The AI sounded confused. “What do you suggest?”
“The replacement of the genetic blueprint we use. A new string of DNA. A new forebear for the clones.”
The AI fell silent. A few minutes passed, leading John Smith Prime to think that the AI had disconnected itself from the console. As he reached to hail it once again, Alfred spoke up.
“What you propose is… extremely unorthodox, sir. To change such a fundamental part of the cloning process… There could be disastrous consequences. It took our creators generations to develop the perfect client.”
“They had one world to work with, Alfred, we have have many. I am sure that we will find-”
The AI cut him off, anger clear in its voice. “Develop, sir! They developed your progenitor. They didn’t speed up his aging process, they exposed him to an incredible variety of different sensations and experiences, they pushed and probed his mind, they spent countless billions of dollars developing the ‘ideal man’ to copy!” The AI paused, its voice calming down to a more conciliatory tone. “They spent natural generations doing this, sir. The failure rate I discussed refers to a generation of clones. A natural generation is expected to be 30 years. For a clone it is merely 15. It took the humans over 2 centuries of breeding to manage this.”
“We have no choice Alfred. Either we can try and fix the failing genome, which is near impossible to do without the original source, or we can attempt to find a donor that fulfills all necessary criteria.”
The AI went silent for a moment before speaking again, its voice once more kind. “So where do you suggest we begin, sir?”
“We need to restock our resources before we do anything else. Open up the galactic map, let us see which civilized system is nearest to us.” As the data-set projected a 3D chart Captain John Smith Prime traced his current location to the various star systems around them. Eventually, with approval from his AI, he decided a path.
“Alfred.” He said calmly. “Set course for Triste, within the The Free Territories of the Ismar Traverse.”