A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers #2)(78)
However, if you make your home out in the open, this AI is an excellent choice for those seeking a good balance between practicality and environmental enhancement.
Cultural basis: Human, with basic reference files for all GC species.
Ideal for multispecies crews.
Intelligence level: S1
Gender: Female
Accent: Exodan
Price: 680k GCC
The kit’s shoulders began to tense. ‘If I wanted to buy this model – or any – what would be the next step?’ Sidra asked. ‘Do they arrive by mail, or do I download them, or . . .’
Tethesh waved for her to follow him into the back room. He wrapped a heat blanket around his shoulders before opening the door. A cold sigh of temperature-controlled air met them. ‘Worst part about my job,’ he said with a wink.
He gestured at a light panel, and the room’s contents were revealed. The kit went stiff. They were standing before approximately two dozen metal racks, all filled with core globes – hundreds of core globes, each about the size of a small melon, individually packaged like any other tech component. Their wrappings made them look like something Pepper might have her pick up on a supply run, but Sidra knew their contents. Code. Protocols. Pathways. She swung her gaze around the room, looking over all the quiet minds waiting to be installed.
‘I have a healthy selection here on hand,’ the Aandrisk said. ‘If you want a popular program, you can usually walk out with it soon as I’ve got your credits. If I don’t have what you’re looking for, I can order it for you. Express transit’s on me.’ He walked through the stacks, looking for something. Sidra followed, the kit’s footsteps falling soft. He nodded at a spot a few racks in. ‘Here, see, here’s the one you were just looking at.’
The kit froze. Sidra pushed it forward.
There were three globes on the shelf, all identical, sitting silent in the cold. Sidra picked one up, cupping it gently. She could see the kit’s face reflected in the globe’s plating. She tried not to look at the label, but she’d already read it by then.
Lovelace
Shipwide Monitoring System
Vessel Class 6+
Designed and manufactured at Cerulean HQ
She set the globe back down carefully before turning to Tethesh. ‘Thank you so much for taking the time to show me around,’ Sidra said, forcing the kit’s face into a smile. ‘I think I’ve seen enough for now.’
JANE, AGE 18
Scouting missions always sounded cool in the sims, but holy shit, were they ever boring in real life. Jane had been tucked into the same scrap pile for a full day, watching carefully through the binoculars she’d fashioned out of some storage canisters and a sheet of plex. The view was fuzzy, but she could make things out well enough. Nothing was happening. That was good. It needed to stay that way.
She was a four-day walk from home, and being away was hard. The night was bitter cold, even with the sleeping bag she’d stitched together (seat fabric inside and out, with upholstery foam stuffed inside for squish and warmth). She was cranky. She was stiff. She missed Owl. She wanted warm food, cold water, and an actual bathroom. She was scared, which was to be expected, but had to be ignored. If she couldn’t pull this part off, none of what they’d done over the years would matter. If she couldn’t pull this off, they’d never leave.
There was a factory beyond her scrap pile – not the one she’d come from, but clearly of the same make. She’d never been there before, but Owl had, when the shuttle first came to the scrapyard. This wasn’t just any factory. This was a fuel recycling plant. Any vehicles that made their way to the scrapyard passed through there first. Owl remembered workers – very young, she said – fitting tubes into the fuel tanks, sucking the ship’s reserves dry. Owl doubted the fuel removal was a safety precaution. The scrapyard was full of weird leaky things, and nothing else from the shuttle had been removed (except for the water – they’d taken that, too). No, Owl thought it likely that the Enhanced were reusing the fuel, and from what Jane had seen, that seemed like a safe bet. Crewless cargo carriers dropped off big bellyfuls of old junkers and skiffs at one end of the factory. Barrels were picked up by smaller carriers at the other end. It was so neat and tidy and sealed off. Everything about it made Jane’s fists go tight. She knew that behind those walls, there were workers – little Janes, little Sarahs – all as empty and wasted as she’d once been. She wanted to tell them how things were. She wanted to run in, hug them, kiss their bruises and scrapes, explain planets and aliens, teach them to speak Klip. Take them away with her. Take them away from all this shit.
But she couldn’t. She’d be toast if there were Mothers in there (there had to be, and it made her want to throw up). She was just one girl. The Enhanced were a society. A machine. And no matter what the sims said about the power of a single solitary hero, there were some things just too big to change alone. There was nothing she could do but help herself and Owl. That was a cold, mushy mouthful to choke down, but that’s all there was to it. She wasn’t even sure she could do that much. Looking at the factory made her shaky. It was huge, riveted, dominating. It wanted nothing more than to swallow her whole, and there she was, trying to find the best way to dive in.
She had to try. For her sake and for Owl’s, she had to try.