Artificial Condition (The Murderbot Diaries, #2)(26)

It had to belong to Tlacey. If it had been watching me, it would have missed Tapan’s unexpected exit from the private shuttle but would have seen her again when we met up at the main hotel or on the way here. Damn it.

But now I knew that. If it hadn’t pinged me, I wouldn’t have realized it was in play. Why is it here? I asked ART.

I assume that’s a rhetorical question, it said.

There was only one way to find out. I acknowledged the ping.

The moment stretched. Then it reached out to my feed. It was cautious, the connection almost tentative. It said, I know what you are. Who sent you?

I replied, I’m on contract to a private individual. Why are you communicating with me?

SecUnits on the same contract don’t talk, either verbally or on the feed, unless they absolutely have to in order to perform their duties. Communicating with units on different contracts has to be done through the controlling HubSystems. And SecUnits don’t interact with ComfortUnits anyway. Could this be a rogue sexbot? If it was rogue, why was it here on RaviHyral? I didn’t know why anybody would stay here voluntarily, including the humans. No, it made more sense if Tlacey owned its contract, and had sent it here to kill Tapan.

If it tried to attack my client, I would tear it apart.

Tapan, sitting on the pad and watching me worriedly, mouthed the words, “What is it?”

I opened a secure channel to her and said, Someone is outside the door. I’m not sure why.

That was mostly true. I didn’t want to tell Tapan what it was, since that seemed to lead directly to me telling her what I was, which I didn’t want to do. Though if I had to destroy it in front of her, I was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

The sexbot replied, This is you, and sent me a copy of a public newsburst.

It was from the station, from Port FreeCommerce. This time the headline was “Authorities Admit a SecUnit Unsecured and Location Unknown.”

Uh-oh, ART said.

I closed the story by reflex, like that would make it not exist. After three seconds of shock, I made myself open it again.

“Unsecured” is what they call rogue SecUnits when they want humans to listen and not just start screaming. It meant that the knowledge that I had hacked my governor module was no longer confined to me and the members of PreservationAux. They must have been at the stage where everyone in the two survey groups who had survived was being interviewed, and they would have had to guarantee bonds to assert they were telling the truth.

So the company knew now that I had hacked my governor module. That was terrifying, even though I had expected it. It was one of the reasons Mensah had made sure to get me off inventory and out of the deployment center as soon as I came out of repair and reconstruction mode.

Expecting it and having it happen were two different things, something I learned the first time I got shot to pieces.

I skimmed the story in dread and then read it again, closely. The solicitors for several sides in the ongoing legal and civil battles had asked Preservation to produce the SecUnit who had recorded all the damning evidence against GrayCris. This was unusual. It’s not like SecUnits can testify in courts. Our recordings are admissible, just like recordings from a drone or security camera or any other inert device, but it’s not like we’re supposed to have opinions or a perspective on what we record.

After some back and forth, Mensah’s solicitor had admitted that she had lost track of me. They phrased it as “released on my own recognizance, as constructs are considered legal sentients under Preservation law,” but the journalists hadn’t been fooled by that, either. There were a lot of sidebar links to attached articles about constructs, about SecUnits, about rogue SecUnits. There was no mention that this particular unit had had a little problem with murdering the clients supposedly under its protection before, but I had the feeling the company had probably already destroyed any records relating to Ganaka Pit so they couldn’t be produced under court injunction.

Tapan whispered, “Are you talking to them, the person?”

“Yes,” I told her. To the sexbot, I said, That’s an interesting story but it has nothing to do with me.

It said, It’s you. Who sent you?

I said, That’s a story about a dangerous rogue SecUnit. No one would send it anywhere.

I’m not asking because I want to report you. I won’t tell anyone. I’m asking—There’s no human controlling you? You’re free?

I could feel ART in my feed, carefully extending itself out toward the sexbot.

I have a client, I told it. I had to distract it, if ART was going to be able to get any info. Even though it was a sexbot, it was still a construct, still a whole different proposition from a pilot bot. Who sent you here? Was it Tlacey?

Yes. She is my client.

As a ComfortUnit, not a SecUnit. Sending a ComfortUnit into this situation was morally irresponsible and a clear violation of contract. I’m guessing the sexbot knew that.

ART said, It’s not rogue. Its governor module is engaged. So it’s probably telling the truth.

I asked ART, Can you hack it from here?

There was a half-second pause while ART explored the idea. ART answered, No, I can’t secure the connection here. It could stop me by cutting off its feed.

I told the sexbot, Your client wants to kill my client.

It didn’t reply.

I said, You told Tlacey about me. It must have recognized what I was during that first meeting. If it hadn’t been sure, seeing the damage I had done to the three humans Tlacey had sent would have been all the confirmation it needed. I was seething, but I kept it out of the feed. As I told ART, bots and constructs can’t trust each other, so I don’t know why it made me angry. I wish being a construct made me less irrational than the average human but you may have noticed this is not the case. I said, Your client sent a ComfortUnit to do a SecUnit’s job.