Unstable Prototypes (50 page)

"Yes."

"How likely do you think it is that they'll
come after me again?"

"Exceedingly likely," Ma stated. She swiped
out some more words. "And if you are able to escape them, they will
likely seek means to motivate you to reveal yourself."

"You mean they'll go after the people I care
about."

"That is a reasonable assumption."

"Okay, that's what I thought. How likely is
it that these guys are going to get completely wiped out before
that happens?"

"Exceedingly unlikely."

"So it seems like giving you a hand is pretty
much the only option left."

"While it would be pleasing to me to once
again include you in the mission, it is only proper that I inform
you that joining us, even if it leads to the successful liberation
of Karter, will not necessarily remove the terrorists as a threat
to you."

"Maybe not, but it will keep them from coming
after me by using some Karter-created prototype to wipe out
whatever planet they think I might be hiding on. And it beats
hiding in a hole and hoping they don't kill my friends and family.
Plus, I figure if I help you out with this, you and Karter will
have a pretty good reason to help me out with my problem."

"That is an intelligent and well-reasoned
interpretation of the facts."

"Okay, so what can I do? How can I help?"

"Currently, Garotte and Silo are unavailable.
Are you able to travel immediately?"

"Yeah, I think so. I'm not the best repair
guy, but I've got it so the internal diagnostic checks out
fine."

"I will deliver coordinates. How quickly can
you reach them?"

Lex glanced at the lower edge of the screen
as a set of stellar coordinates scrolled by.

"That's pretty far, but through
freelancer-friendly space. I should be able to push SOB pretty
hard... say a day and a half?"

"Dock there within two days, find a secure
location with room for your own ship and a Mobius Armistice C to
land. We will arrive there in approximately 49 hours, assuming
there are no interruptions to the schedule. Please run a full ship
diagnostic, internal and external, with the command code 'level 3
diagnostic' and send the results to me. I shall endeavor to have
the materials available to perform more reliable repairs to your
vehicle."

"Yeah. Sounds good. Will do. I'll see you
then."

"Lex."

"Yes?"

"I must express my deepest and most heartfelt
apologies for involving you in this venture. It has caused a
disruption to your life that may have far reaching consequences,
and has endangered your own well-being and that of those you care
about. If you are angry with me, or feel betrayed, that would
conform to my expectations."

The sentence came quickly, without any need
to assemble it. She'd had it ready for some time.

In return, Lex offered a weak smile. "Hey,
knowing my luck, I would have got caught up in this mess anyway,
right?"

"For you, this is probable."

"Okay, I'll see you in... Uh," he remarked,
squinting at his screen, "Ma? Are you wearing jewelry?"

"Yes, Lex. Thank you for noticing."

For a few moments, the pilot struggled for an
appropriate response. When none came, he simply shook his head and
smirked. "No problem Ma. I'll see you soon."

"I eagerly anticipate your arrival."

The AI tapped the connection closed and
processed the new information and associated emotional responses.
Her installation onto this body had introduced the issue of
motivations originating from two different sources. What she
considered to be her primary emotions originated from her databases
and algorithms dealing with appropriate responses and behaviors
based on various circumstances and interactions. The others were
distinctly chemical in origin, occurring without regard to logic or
reason. It was getting progressively more difficult to
differentiate which emotions were stemming from which origins. She
wasn't sure if she was pleased or concerned about that, and she
wasn't sure if her uncertainty regarding her pleasure or concern
was rooted in logic or chemistry, and she wasn't sure if her
uncertainty regarding her uncertainty... this line of reasoning
needed to be terminated to avoid infinite recursion.

A welcome interruption popped up, in the form
of Lex's scan results. She looked over the list of faults, most of
which were minor or cosmetic, and assembled a list of necessary
replacement parts. They were on a supply station, so a fair number
of the more industrial components would be simple enough to
purchase. Some deft tapping and swiping of paws on her slidepad
screen connected to local retailers, queried inventories, placed
orders, issued payment, and produced pickup instructions. She
briefly pondered why it took Silo so long to do her own shopping.
It warranted further study. All that remained was to contact the
others for pickup. She opened communications to them both.

"Peter here," came Garotte's voice over the
audio connection.

"It's, oh... Dora," Silo said. "Sorry. I'm
not used to having a pad yet."

"I have been in contact with Mr. Alexander.
He is now willing to offer aid. He has been given the coordinates
of a position near to the scheduled pickup position."

"Really? I wonder what brought about this
change of heart," Garotte mused.

"I will explain later. There is a small order
waiting to be picked up at the maintenance desk of the station.
Please bring it with you when you return."

"I'll get it, sweetheart. I think I'm right
near there," Silo offered.

"Excellent. We'll have to discuss the new
opportunities our latest recruit will offer," Garotte said with an
almost giddy air. "Oh, how delightfully reminiscent of old times.
Isn't it wonderful, my sweet?"

"I hate to admit it, but there are some parts
of this life I'd missed," Silo said.

"I knew you'd come around," Garotte remarked,
a grin in his voice. "You just wait until you see what sort of
goodies I picked up for you. I'm telling you. Just like old
times."

Lex pulled on a jacket and checked the time.
The planet he'd been directed to wasn't a planet at all, but a
moon. It wasn't even one of those pleasant, tree-scattered moons
swarming with fuzzy creatures that people sometimes conjure to
mind. Sure, it was pretty. The whole surface was covered with
multicolored rock formations, like a cross between the painted
desert and a black-light poster. It had earned the place the name
Jawbreaker. Scientists said the layers had something to do with the
fact that twice a year the moon passed through the thin, wispy
rings of the gas giant it orbited, collecting a layer of whatever
happened to be drifting along in them at the time. No one really
cared what the scientists said, though. The reason there was air to
breathe was because it was extremely pretty and had enough gravity
to hang on to a layer of breathable gas. That meant people wanted
to look at it and could survive the experience, and that meant
people would
pay
to look at it. So the corporations showed
up and pumped enough oxygen into the thin atmosphere to support
human life, set up a few monitoring posts and a few kiosks, and
made the whole place into what was basically a planet-wide
campsite, complete with firewood and marshmallows for sale.

With the thin, artificially maintained
atmosphere it got very cold at night and very hot during the day,
but since people were mostly interested in roughing it and taking
in the scenery, that didn't matter much. There wasn't any water,
either, but judging from the scattering of beer bottles, people had
taken care of that problem themselves. Things weren't terribly
formal or regulated. You simply stopped at the automated check-in
kiosk, tossed them a recommended donation, picked up any supplies
you wanted, and spent as much or as little time there as you
wanted, with the understanding that the operators of the moon were
minimally liable for any misfortunes that might befall you while
you were there. It was a bit like a cross between the wild west and
a boyscout picnic.

Lex had picked a spot near a series of divots
that had been blasted into the terrain. People liked to blow holes
in the hills to see the pretty colors underneath. It might not have
been environmentally friendly, but these days there were more
environments than there were environmentalists, and after a few
weeks it would take an expert to tell the difference between a
man-made crater and a natural one. He tossed some specially treated
logs into one of the smaller craters, lit a fire, and stuck a few
marshmallows on one stick and some hotdogs on another. There had
only been enough time for him to begin to ponder the strange
tendency for his psychotic escapades to have little moments of calm
and serenity in them when the Armistice showed up and set down
beside the SOB.

The side crew doors hissed open and
lowered.

"Lex, my boy!" Garotte said, with hand
extended. "Welcome back!"

"I just can't seem to stay out of trouble,"
Lex said, shaking his hand.

"More like trouble can't keep away from you,"
he said. "This lovely lady, by the way, is Silo."

"Pleased to meet you, Lex," she said with a
shake. "I've heard some very impressive things about you."

"I can't say I've heard much about you, I'm
afraid. Mostly just big guns and such."

"There isn't much more to say, hon."

The sound of tapping toenails drew Lex's gaze
to the lowered door, where Ma was holding her slidepad and heading
toward him with what could only be called a prance to her step. It
was a decidedly "Solby" piece of behavior, further strengthened by
her decision to leap to his shoulders without so much as a
pause.

"Hey, Ma. Good to see you," he said,
scratching her head.

She managed to twist her head and trigger a
message. "It is very good to see you again, Mr. Alexander."

Lex marched around the ship in which they had
arrived.

"An Armistice C? I can't say that I pictured
you showing up in one of these. This is basically a moving
van."

"Now, now, Lex," Garotte said. "This may look
like an Armistice, but it is actually an Aggressor waiting to come
out of its shell."

"Seriously? There are a
lot
of
differences between an Aggressor and an Armistice. I mean
there's-"

Garotte tapped at his slidepad a few times
and handed it to Lex. The pilot reviewed it for a few moments.

"Yeah, that just about covers it," Lex said
with a nod. "Let me guess. We'll be hooking all of this stuff
up."

"I trust you know your way around an
auto-spanner," Garotte remarked.

"I can bluff my way through most of the easy
stuff."

"An admirable skill."

"What comes next, though? We're going to turn
this thing into a gunship, and then what?"

"And then we're going to pick up one last
weapon, and then we're going to go get our boy, come hell or high
water. Time doesn't really allow for much else."

"Do you think we can do it?"

"Does it matter? It is the mission, Lex. We
do what we must. Now," Garotte announced with a slap to Lex's back,
"Let us get to it, shall we?"

The work was slow. Of the group, only one of
them had a really firm understanding of every piece of work that
needed to be done, and unfortunately for all involved, she didn't
have any thumbs. Ma spent an hour carefully creating high-level
tutorials for the others to work off of, then spent the remainder
of the time supervising whoever happened to be working on the most
critical system, unless it was Silo. This wasn't so much due to the
fact that Silo didn't need the supervision, but because every time
she approached, the protective sergeant would shoo her away with
warnings that she might get hurt.

Close to six hours later, the four of them
smeared with grease and worn ragged, the work was nearly done. You
would have hardly imagined that it was the same ship. Every weapon
mount was populated, vicious gun barrels and field emitters studded
the hull, and the throaty purr of a replacement reactor promised
that it could provide the shields and weapons with power to spare.
It might not have been quite a match for the monstrosity that Lex
had just survived an encounter with, but a fight between the two of
them would have been one hell of a show. While Silo and Garotte
were tightening the final bolts and connecting the final wires, Lex
saw to the SOB.

"Are you certain that you do not want the
others to help you?" Ma asked.

"Nah. There's not much to do here, and I like
to be the one that keeps SOB healthy," he said, reconnecting the
stabilizer panel and picking up a paint sprayer.

"The paint is standard space-grade matte
black. The coating currently applied to your ship is a proprietary
blend developed by Karter to absorb sensor sweeps. Until you are
able to get SOB back to Big Sigma for a proper repair, you will be
marginally more detectable than you were before."

"I'll manage. I did pretty well back when I
had a scraped together pile of junk with too many engines."

Ma watched him paint for a few moments. "You
went to visit your girlfriend."

"Yep."

"I had, through my inexpert grasp of social
interaction, made you uneasy about your relationship. Was your trip
conceived with the purpose of addressing the highlighted
issues?"

"... Partially."

"Were you successful?"

"We sort of postponed the whole thing.
Something more important came up. Something more important
blew
up."

"Understandable."

"How have things been going for you?"

"There have been virtually no aspects of this
mission that have gone according to plan."

"Sounds about right. Did you use the slidepad
to figure out where these guys are?"