Canto 6 – Frieda

It soon became evident that Trav Dalgoda had downloaded an artificial intelligence into the computer systems of an abandoned Galtorrian starport. He named it Frieda after his boyhood invisible companion. Ged laughed at him uncontrollably for several minutes. But the whole mess worried him too.
Frieda apparently removed herself from the Crown of Stars into the mainframe, because the middle crystal in the crown now ceased to glow. She was a very capable artificial being, and she immediately began to repair the base using all the robotic arms, cleaners, switches, routers, and computers as if they were her new body.
“Frieda, old girl, I am impressed,” said Goofy to the control systems. “You have made this place into a home just like that!”
“I appreciate a kind and patient master,” said the female voice that was now Frieda. “You are much nicer than my last master.”
“Who was your last master?” asked Ham, slightly concerned.
“His name has no analog in your tongue. He was the Dark One, son of Grandfather. He made us do terrible things.”
“How long ago was this?” asked Ged, concerned more than Ham seemed to be.
“Sixty-four million of what your computers refer to as a year.”
“Is he still around?” asked Ham.
“Grandfather slew all his children at the end of the final war. Only unliving things remain from that time. Unliving things like the three of us, The Crown of All Stars.”
Ged was relieved to hear that these powerful ancient menaces were long gone. He hoped that using this artifact hadn’t released an ancient evil on the universe in the way you always read about in story books.
“I did good, didn’t I?” said Trav to Ham.
“I have to hand it to you, Goofy. That was an excellent bit of fortune you pulled off.”
“No luck to it, old jester,” Trav replied. “My skills are unique.”
“That’s for sure,” agreed Ged.
The sentient station methodically set about taking care of all aboard. She made accommodations for the Princess and her son. She fixed up state rooms for Ged and Ham. She prepared the finest of luxury quarters for Trav.
Frieda used her robotic cargo arms on the docking port to repair battle damage to the outside of the Leaping Shadowcat. She soon discovered that she had enough spare parts in storage that she could build another space ship, one with two deadly rail guns aboard because Trav liked to blow things up. Trav named the new cobbled-together ship Megadeath. Its engines ran with efficiency unheard of in the Imperium.
“Have I done well, master?” Frieda asked Trav.
“I couldn’t ask for more, hon,” he answered. “You give me everything I want.”
“She makes me nervous,” said Ged. “She comes from a culture that destroyed themselves. Maybe the power she gives is too much for us.”
“Ah, you’re just jealous. You need an ancient artifact of your own.”
“May I suggest Grandfather’s building device?” offered Frieda. “It is on the planet below us. It is known as the Hammer of God.”
“Oh, no!” cried Ged. “Not another one! Think what could happen if the wrong people get ahold of such a device!”
“Well,” said Trav. “I guess you just have to find it then.”
“What?”
“Ged, you are the most trustworthy man I know, and in the Imperium I know a lot of men.” Trav clapped a hand on Ged’s shoulder.
“I guess you are right.” Ged shook his head at the wonder of it all. Would this adventure turn to gold by sheer dumb luck? Ged didn’t believe in magic or luck. He believed in making his own destiny. If that meant making sure a moral man was in charge of these events and these ancient devices, then so much the better. “We’ve got work to do on the Grange station first, though.”
“Oh, yes. Rescuing the puppy!” said Trav.
“And securing a renewable source of food,” finished Ged.

























Weekend Fun with Heart Attacks
I’m not sure why I decided to have a heart attack over the holiday, but my body decided it was time and didn’t really give me a chance for input. I should qualify it a little bit. I didn’t have an actual heart attack according to the final tests, but the preliminary tests were all red flags and shouting.
So, I woke up in the middle of the night on Wednesday night with a pain in the left side of my chest. My left arm was hurting and tingling with numbness.
Now, it is not something new. I have arthritis in my rib cage and I tend to sleep on my left side. So, although the pain was concerning, it was not reason to make a middle-of-the-night dash to the emergency room. I eventually got back to sleep on my right side. I was sluggish and ill the next morning, but I got a lot of house cleaning done and the chest pains were gone.
Thursday night the pains returned, but still not different than the arthritis pains that sent me to the cardiologist before, and not nearly as harsh and painful as the night before. Again the pain went away in the day.
Friday night I picked up my son the Marine at the airport. He was home on holiday leave. We talked about my chest pains over a meal at I-hop. He pulled rank on me and vowed to take me to the ER. I talked him down to Primacare because it’s cheaper, still not believing it was real heart pain.
The next morning Primacare didn’t go so well. The EKG machine there predicted a major earthquake… or a typhoon, or something… and the Prima-doctor got all serious in the face. “Do you want me to call an ambulance? We are required to make the offer in these situations.”
“No, no. My son is with me and can drive me to the Emergency Room. I promise I will go.”
And so I did.
At the ER they are very concerned that you don’t have anything in your pockets. They quickly dressed me in a hospital gown and then surgically removed $200 (due to the wondrous way my insurance company has of not paying their portion of the bill). So, lighter by that amount, they immediately hooked me up to their own EKG machine. I had so many patches attached to the hair on my chest that I was guaranteed to be bald-chested when it came time to rip them all off again. Then they repeated the EKG testing done earlier in the day. I swear, the same squirrel that was visiting Primacare when I was there earlier, sneaked into their EKG machine too and vigorously jumped up and down. So, there it was. The proof they needed that I had too much money left in my bank account. And so they put me inside the hospital.
Once inside, they rigged me up so one arm could be crushed by a BP sleeve every two hours, or more if they felt like it, and the other arm could be drained of blood so that they could tell if there was any further money in my bank account.
Three days later, the enzymes in my blood said that what I had was mysterious and not a heart attack. The stress test I had on Monday nearly killed me, and told them that I didn’t have enough money left in my bank account to keep in the hospital any longer. I got out still wearing my arm band and allergy warning band as reminders that I really, really didn’t want to go back, but life is like that, and I still don’t know what caused it all, or if I will have to return to deal with it later on.
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Filed under autobiography, commentary, feeling sorry for myself, healing, health, humor, illness, Paffooney