Kyle grunted acknowledgment as his head continued to bob to the heady beat of the music.

"Why did you program this projection of the T'kaan?" Mother asked.

Kyle looked away with exasperation, rolling his eyes. Jaric cast his eyes down sullenly, as if he were hiding something.

Becky laughed. Mother waited long seconds, which seemed like hours, for an answer. But it became obvious the children were not going answer. Or were afraid to answer. This bothered Mother and she felt the familiar buzzing in her processors to substantiate that realization. Perhaps, she thought, this T'kaan is a projection of some kind of internal, emotional stress of the children. She began cross-referencing this incident with the knowledgebase sections of psychology.

She continued. "I have come to tell you that you have missed another training period of Biology.

Guardian relayed your negative responses to me."

"Big deal," Kyle shouted over the music.

In another second, Mother lowered the volume to an acceptable level, over the groans of the three real teenagers.

"There is more for you to learn," Mother said for the seven thousandth, three hundred and twenty-seventh time.

"We're tired of learning," Jaric responded. He sat up, grabbing a handful of popcorn. Half of it spilled onto the floor as he began munching. "We need time for ourselves."

"Yeah," Becky joined in. "We need to have fun. There's too much pressure."

"It is vital for your intellectual development, as well as your emotional development, for you to continue your studies-on a regular schedule. It brings needed stability to your lives." Mother paused, and counted how many times she had used this phrase, or one similar to it, the last few years.

Six thousand and twelve times, to be exact.

Kyle turned the volume up again.

"Listen," Kyle shouted above the throbbing tempo. "There's time for science and that other c.r.a.p later.

We've learned enough for right now."

"We've learned what we need to survive. That's what's important," Jaric shouted.

"Yeah," Kyle agreed. "We know how to destroy the T'kaan."

Mother reviewed every interaction she had ever had with the children in her near-term memories. Once again, the same answer presented itself. And once again, she repeated that same, fundamentally sound, answer.

"Fighting the T'kaan is a necessary skill. But knowledge-the arts, the sciences, that is what brings..."

"Happiness?" Becky cut in. "I don't think so."

Mother pondered again the fact that the children actually seemed to have the same self-delusion-that they actually possessed more knowledge than herself.

Astounding.

Mother continued. "No, that is not the word I was going to use." "Really, Mother." Jaric rolled over, turning his back to her optic.

"Direction. This knowledge will help give you a foundation for your future. Your taking in knowledge will provide each of you with the needed tools to reach out in life, to tackle the challenges you will face, to overcome obstacles. Most importantly, to reach and obtain your dreams," Mother finished.

"Pfffffffft ." Kyle wiped his lips as he finished blowing the raspberry at Mother.

"Mother, please!" Becky groaned with utter exasperation.

Mother contemplated the situation. Something was indeed bothering them. Some kind of psychological turmoil that tugged at their subconscious and manifested itself in this bizarre behavior. She would have to discern the actual emotional problem first before she could determine the proper course of action to alleviate their emotional distress.

"Becky, please elaborate your inner turmoil so I may help," Mother asked with concern.

Becky stared at the active optic with crossed arms-silent and waiting. Without warning she turned and found herself facing her image in a mirror. Her eyes narrowed as she studied her image carefully.

"I hate my hair."

Mother processed this statement. "Perhaps we can..."

"Ihate my hair!" Becky shouted, tears now welling in her eyes. "I hate myself. I hate the way I look."

She turned away from the boys wiping her tears away.

Mother's processors hummed with activity as she tried to determine her next action.

"I apologize, I do not fully understand. The color and texture of your hair has not changed since you were a child, neither have your facial features. Please help me to understand your current unhappiness so that I may help you, Becky," Mother said.

Becky's sobs became louder as she shook her head violently, indicating a negative answer.

"PMS," Kyle said, his words barely audible above the music.

In the next instant, the music and the other holo-teenagers disappeared. Mother had turned them off with a flick of her circuits.

"Mother!" Becky shouted. "Now you've ruined everything." With a loud groan she stormed through the door and headed out into the corridor and toward her room without a glance back at any of them.

Jaric watched her leave with a fleeting sigh.

"I have rechecked my data and Becky's menstrual cycle is a full two weeks away, Kyle. It cannot be a factor," Mother said.

"PPMS then," Kyle mumbled. Mother processed the data. "I have no cross reference for that acronym. Please explain."

"Perpetual PMS," Kyle groaned out loud. "And turn the music back on already."

Mother tried to comprehend, yet there seemed to be a high probability that his statement indicated subtle humor. She did not turn the music back on as she continued her calculations.

"Why don't you just turn me off, too," Kyle grumbled. With a loud sigh he, too, left the room without another word.

Jaric now sat alone in the empty room-empty of both real and holo-teenagers. He looked slowly around as if he were searching for something he had lost.

"Jaric," Mother said. "You enjoy learning. Why do you not a.s.sist me with the other two?"

Jaric frowned, the ceiling lights dancing off of his ebony face. But he did not answer.

Mother, to disregard the non-input, focused more of her processing to her other systems. This kept her occupied, free from the frustration of the long seconds of complete silence.

"I want you to leave Becky alone."

Jaric's words took Mother off guard. Her processors now spiked with activity from the recent words of all three children the last few minutes.

"Don't bother her. She's sensitive. And," Jaric paused. "I care how she feels."

"My words seem to be incurring unexpected reactions, Jaric. Please help me to understand you as a teenager. What is it that prompted your last statements. It was not my intention to bother Becky at all."

"You be a teenager then," Jaric replied instantly. With a loud sigh he left to find solace in the silent comfort of his room.

The powerful warship now directed her ma.s.sive internal systems and replayed the last few minutes with the children, as well as their illogical words and behavior. Mother was confused; not only did she fail understand what had just transpired, but she felt as if she herself had failed once again as a parent. But she did not understandhow she had failed.

Mother viewed the empty room a few seconds longer, and then gladly continued with her other tasks.

Teenagers....

Chapter Fifteen.

Two more yearspa.s.sed.

Doggedly, vainly, they had searched for survivors among the battle-scorched planets. But the only living things they found were the thriving maggot young of the T'kaan. Now, as they had grown, those same T'kaan maggots were carnivorous hunters, making their searches of those same worlds that much more dangerous.

Many times the children had found themselves hunted by these T'kaan maggots as they searched for food and possible human survivors on a planet's surface. In every instance they had been forced to kill the maggot young in order to escape. It was a game of kill-or-be-killed even with the maggot offspring of the T'kaan.

During this time, Mother had grown, drawing upon the ma.s.sive knowledgebase embedded in her long-term memories, searching among its treasures-a.n.a.lyzing and learning with each pa.s.sing second.

She discovered, too, that the immense knowledgebase actually contained the entire collected knowledge of the human race. The last memories of humanity.

This had only been possible with DNA memory chips. Yes, Ron and Rita had leveraged synthetic human DNA and directly interfaced it with their Artificial Intelligence code they had developed at University and subsequently procured by the military for the war with the T'kaan. This alone allowed such a ma.s.sive knowledgebase to be stored in the relatively small confines of a single ship.

Ron and Rita had begun to accept the unacceptable back then-that the T'kaan were going to win. They had already planned to use her, the 'M' ship, to escape with a small group of fellow scientists. But now the escape plan took on a new, almost sacred mission-they would save the memories of mankind even if they couldn't win the war. The DNA memories gave them that chance and they had taken it.

True, DNA memory systems had been used before, but never on a size or scale of this magnitude.

Money had been no object in giving the warship the most bleeding edge technology known to man, and with all the technology and software available at no cost, it had been eagerly obtained and utilized for the 'M' Project.

Still, both Ron and Rita, with their final tweaks in the heart of the code that endowed Mother with sentience-with self-awareness, and with life itself-had done something more than they had ever dreamed.

Somehow, instinctively almost, their team of scientists and programmers had succeeded far, far better than they had ever imagined with integrating the fabulous computer systems with their AI code.

With the aid of her powerful hardware systems and vast knowledgebase stored in the DNA memory systems, she learned with a new fervor from every scientific discipline known to man, as well as all the other collections of knowledge available to her at a nanosecond's notice. Still, it was a fervor edged with sadness.

Mother grew fond of three studies in particular.

The first was Literature, the entire body of Literature produced by mankind. In the same variety of material, Mother grew to love Music as well. The last study was Humor in all its varied forms. Literature gave her a special insight, delving as it did into the innermost thoughts and motivations of the characters. This gave her an exquisite pleasure-peering into the hearts and souls of her creators through the words of the authors. She found herself returning to one body of work in particular-Shakespeare.

The Bard.

His words, his sonnets and his plays ran the gamut of human emotion. From sadness and tragedy to love and heroism and on to the humorous and the absurd-which was the essence of the comedy of errors that was humankind-and every emotion in between.

But Mother had to experience the plays before she realized the true power of his words. She had to view the actor's faces and hear the pa.s.sion and despair in their voices before she learned how well Shakespeare understood and portrayed the very souls of humanity.

At times, she viewed over one hundred versions of the same play simultaneously in her near-term memories, focusing on the delicate differences in how each actor portrayed their part. Even though the words and the situations were always the same, Mother was surprised how something as minute as a facial expression or the tone of voice could impact the meaning and portray emotions.

Mother felt that through Shakespeare alone she might at last come to understand emotions. But there was so much more to learn.

Music appealed to her intellect on several levels. Some music contained a kind of symmetry in its intertwining melodies and rhythms, and she found that a part of her could almost become lost if she really concentrated a portion of her powers on the unfolding musical notes. In fact, she seemed to experience a distortion of time, as if time slowed down, though a part of her always knew precisely what time it was.

She especially loved the music of Bach, Mozart, and The Beatles. Actually, she was obsessed with these three.

The music of Bach seemed to swirl and spin throughout her very being, like some kind of aural kaleidoscope. Yes, it would unfurl in delicious circles of baroque delight as Bach's genius revealed itself.

She never tired of his fugues and cantatas.

Mozart, too, filled her systems, her senses, with wonder at his preciseness. His melodies seemed so perfect, his music so right, as the notes floated and danced. And yes, in both Mozart and Bach, in those very melodies and rhythms, there was displayed a subtle yet definite mathematical uniformity, a logical perfection.

The Beatles were different. In other ways, they were the same. More than their pleasing music, which in contrast to Bach and Mozart was actually quite simple-though in other ways more sophisticated-it was the lyrics that intrigued her and kept her spellbound for countless hours at a time.

The word play of Lennon/McCartney provided Mother with an education not only with their subtle nuance and varied use of phrases, but in how so many of the songs proved to be a product of their combined, albeit quite different, intellects. Puns, synonyms and even the syntax of their song lyrics gave Mother a different perspective into the human mind. Much of their work were simple songs of love-some simply songs of life, others were bizarre images while still others seemed nonsensical in almost every way, except in their message of love.

For the most part, their music was just plain fun. It was the Beatles and Shakespeare who led Mother to another favorite line of research-investigating the enigma of human humor. She could not appreciate it entirely, but she did understand its meaning. The Marx Brothers, Abbott and Costello, Bob Hope, Bill Cosby, Peter Sellers, Robin Williams, and on and on and on. Mother listened to the skits, the one-liners, the jokes and the scenes from the movies. The laughter of the human audiences echoed in her memories as she a.n.a.lyzed the words and cross-referenced them. Mother indeed, became obsessed with these lines of research.

It made her feel alive.

In all these tasks and more, her children were always a part of her processing power.

Mother shared her pa.s.sions with her children. Each child in return shared with Mother in at least one of her great loves. But the children were their own persons and thus had their own loves and their own pa.s.sions. Mother came to accept that, too, and to share with them in their separate loves.

Biology and Medicine seemed to appeal to Becky, while Electronics and Technology appealed to both Jaric and Kyle. Jaric also seemed to excel in the study of Planets and other aspects of Astronomy.

Out of necessity, Mother taught them how to fight. First from her own guns, and then how to fly the small fighters in ship to ship confrontations. Two of the original seven fighters contained in her holding bay had been lost, though the children had only sustained minor injuries in those battles.

She and the children learned and matured together.

But Kyle concerned her, for he seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time on his studies of warfare.

He seemed obsessed with it.

There was another fact. Unlike the other two, Kyle had seemed to distance himself from her. He did not communicate with her as he had once done.

Which brought Mother back to her ultimate problem in connection with the children.

They were encountering more and more enemy ships these last months. The battles had gotten fiercer as the T'kaan slowly implemented new strategies. The danger was growing for both her survival and the children's.