Chapter 25
IDENTITY: Mechanical Operations and Support Systems
→ SUB-IDENTITY: Moss
LOCATION: Vaesa [nylarian]
The morning after we docked on Vaesa, Dutch said, “Okay, I know you said it was irrelevant, but I just had to build you a mobile unit. Isn’t it cute?”
For perspective, this conversation was taking place inside the Destitute.
Celise had relocated to her clinic in Vaesa, but Torian had returned to scan for Amelia’s crew.
[They were not in range; I would have been able to connect to my moss colony there if they were.
] Dutch had intervened shortly after Torian arrived, carrying that abomination.
[Abomination = the mobile unit.]
This was irrelevant. I did not need a “mobile unit” at all, considering that I had camera access in both the Destitute and Vaesa. I said, “I told you this seven times, but I will reiterate an eighth. A mobile unit is a distraction from the new central system I asked you to build on Vaesa.”
I had mentioned it back on Rhymarra, according to records.
There should have been plenty of time for Dutch to at least begin reconstructing my central system on the space station.
Once that was complete, he could bridge my processors to cover both locations.
It would ensure I was not trapped on the Destitute, which had seemed like a reasonable request.
[Clearly, Dutch got distracted. I should have predicted that, given past assessment models.]
Now, I watched as Torian bent over the mobile unit Dutch deemed as cute. I could not verify that assessment. Every time I scanned the mobile unit, my subsystem identified it as useless.
Based on Torian’s body language, there was an 87 percent chance she was losing her commitment to our goal. She bent over the mobile unit, her voice higher-pitched than normal. “It’s like a little fox-dragon!”
The robot Dutch had constructed was a small quadruped. He had stolen more of my moss colony to cover the robot’s back. Like most things, it had features: ears, eyes, and a tail.
According to Dutch, the eyes were cameras. The ears were microphones. The tail was simply aesthetic.
According to Dutch, I was meant to take control of this robot as I pleased.
[I did not please.]
“Captain Razner,” I said. “If a mobile unit is necessary, I would prefer a bot with aerial capabilities.”
“And terrify half the station? I don’t think so,” Dutch replied. “This is cute enough to go unnoticed. We don’t want you scaring children when you’re monitoring life support on Vaesa. Frankly, it’s an overreach of privacy anyway. You were never supposed to have camera access.”
“You can’t take camera access from it now,” Torian said. It was good to know that 13 percent of her loyalty still remained.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Moss expanded its senses, and we’ll have to make do with that. But we’re in a sticky situation where human newcomers might not appreciate an omnipotent computer spying on them.”
That did not seem like my problem. I replied, “I do not care for the personal lives of organics.”
Torian sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, Moss, he’s right. Celise would be furious if you started watching her clinic. There’s a whole doctor-patient confidentiality—”
“Fine. I will not watch the clinic.”
Dutch cleared his throat. “Or we compromise. Limit the camera access to public spaces—and give you a mobile unit that you can control at will.” He reached underneath the robot’s chest, flicking a button near its stomach.
The abomination-fox-dragon eased to life, and instantly, a pairing request appeared in my central system.
I ignored it, redirecting attention back into the Destitute’s living area. “I will continue to use cameras. A mobile unit is not necessary.”
The robot blinked its dark eyes. Even without pairing, it began moving independently.
“Why is it moving independently?” I said.
Dutch chuckled. “Well, it might unnerve people if this cute little guy just … freezes when you leave it. I added a very simple program—nothing that can adapt, like Auto-Nav—to make it act like an animal when you aren’t around.”
The abomination-fox-dragon stretched, its long tail curling in the air. It shook, violently vibrating my moss colony along its back. It mewed.
Torian said, “Aww!”
“I created a databank of the top fifty sounds from pets across the galaxy. It’s quite a range, but I told it to prioritize human noises, considering most of the station’s residents will likely be human.” Dutch swelled, crossing his arms. “Its name is Peat. Like peat moss. Get it?”
“Peat,” Torian squealed, and my ratio adjusted from 87 percent disloyal to 99 percent.
“I do not need—”
Another nudge from the robot, Peat. It was the same request: Pairing?
Auto-Navigation: Is that another program? Another friend?
Moss: No. Don’t get ideas.
A: Can it fly?
M: No.
A: Engine! Another friend!
Engine: New program identified and catalogued.
Peat: *trill*
A: Ahh!!!!
M: No. No.
“Moss, this might be a good idea,” Torian was saying. “We wanted to give you freedom, but I imagine creating a new central system in Vaesa will take more time. This is a good middle ground, at least? Gets you off the ship.”
She was 99 percent traitor.
“I am already off the ship,” I said.
“There’s no range limit on Peat,” Dutch said. “You can tap into it anytime, anywhere you want. Or just leave it. Either way, it’s adorable, so it’s staying.”
Torian squeaked again, crouching to pet Peat. She was careful not to touch my moss colony along its artificial spine, but Dutch had apparently covered the rest of the robot in something akin to green fur. Peat purred, winding between her legs as if it were a small feline.
As a moss colony, I was not often inclined to be curious. However, that was rapidly changing as my central system adapted to all of the intelligent organics that paraded through my ship. As a result, when Peat the robot pressed me to pair again, I reluctantly accepted.
[If it was staying anyway, I might as well assess its ability to be a resource.]
The transition was instantaneous and jarring. One moment, I was reviewing familiar camera angles in the Destitute—and the next, I was standing on my own moss colony, making sense of an entirely new movement style and viewpoint.
Peat went still as I analyzed motion patterns.
From this perspective, I was looking up at Torian, which felt disorienting.
Its eyes were impressive cameras, and its ears could receive even distant, quiet sounds.
Peat’s programming wrapped around me like …
well, like a colony of moss over a metal wall.
[It was comforting.]
Peat jerked under my control. The motion meant Torian’s fingers brushed my moss colony along the mobile unit’s back. Torian recoiled with an apology that took a moment to process.
It took a moment because that touch, filtered through Peat’s programming, felt …
It was difficult to describe. My databanks supplied wonderful, but that seemed too simplistic. It felt like rain on my moss colony, soaking into the leaves, promoting growth in my rhizoids, leaving me with the contentedness of knowing I was sustained.
Normally, touch left me with negative vibrations. Today, Peat showed me something new. It vibrated through my colony as I reached a consensus that through Peat, and Peat alone, touch wasn’t just allowed.
It was appreciated. Desired.
Ah, you have realized it. It is nice, to feel a nylarian hand brushing my bark, a constant reminder of our presence here and now, Kerracia vibrated, yet again waxing poetic.
No one asked, I replied, withdrawing my consciousness from the moss in Vaesa for a moment.
Peat, the program, was pleased at my presence. It allowed me full access, even offering helpful suggestions of code to mimic the natural movement of a quadrupedal form. I incorporated that, finally smoothing out my motions.
“I … I liked that touch, Torian,” I said. Peat had a tiny speaker, so my voice was smaller than usual.
Torian seemed delighted. “You did? Can I pet you?”
[Was this embarrassing?]
[Did I care?]
“Yes,” I said.
Torian obliged, and I sank into the enjoyable feeling of touch for the first time in my existence. It was so distracting that I almost didn’t notice Auto-Nav poking me.
Then it became impossible to ignore, as Auto-Nav said over the main speakers: “The signatures are back! The ones that blocked my radar. Help. Help!”
I yanked out of Peat, settling back into my central system. It only took a moment to analyze the data, and I added over the main speakers of the Destitute, “They appear to be organics, swarming Vaesa.”
“Organics?” Dutch recoiled. “In the vacuum of space?”
But Torian was even more distracted. Her body temperature dropped and the blood drained from her face. “Dutch, did that transmission from Amelia’s ship say when they were going to arrive?”
Dutch didn’t seem to understand. I simplified for him. “You think your not-romantic partner’s ship was attacked by these creatures.” Without waiting for confirmation, I checked with Auto-Nav.
Moss: Can you identify another human vessel in this quadrant?
Auto-Navigation: Scanning—it’s hard to see past these things.
M: Amplify range.
A: Amplifying. Yes! There’s a human vessel, tagged the Charlatan. Last ping from its navigation was … nine hours ago.
“Torian,” I said. “There is evidence that Amelia is in immediate danger.”