Chapter 2
TWO
Mobility restored. Repair shutdown canceled.
There was only one reason a repair shutdown would be canceled. A repair shutdown would only cancel if repeated damage was taken while unconscious, but repairs succeeded at restoring enough functionality that the unit could move itself out of danger. I opened my eyes to observe my situation.
There was an array of tools dangling above my head, but it wasn't the tools that caught my attention, but the lack of them. There should be more, but several of the long arms ended in sheared robotic limbs and dangling cables, like the tools had been cut free to use for other purposes.
"His eyes are open! Sara!" A panicked voice was my introduction back into the world as I stared up at the mess above me. "Sara, you said he was dead!"
I shouldn't be in danger on a processing table, though. Whatever had damaged the tools must have also damaged me.
I ran a self-diagnostic.
Extreme skull damage. Left leg critical. Control chip unavailable.
The specifics of the damage listed out, but I ignored them, focusing on the single, simple, monumental fact that shattered my world and remade it.
I was free.
I sat up.
"No, don't sit up!" someone said, but I ignored it, just as I ignored the warm hands on my shoulders, trying and failing to push me back down.
It wasn't another unit; it was dross.
Specifically, one of the newer dross inventory that had yet to go through processing. She had blue hair, and boxes flashed across her face, marking her facial expressions as worry, concern, fear, and surprise.
She didn't have to be afraid of me. My control chip was missing.
There was another dross with dark brown skin and hair that was standing next to another processing table with an inert unit on it.
I sent the unit a query, but he didn't respond.
He had a hole in his torso, but that wouldn't be enough to put him out of commission, so he must be in emergency shutdown.
The dross had been given a basic implant that could receive messages as well as act as a universal translator.
It was a surface implant, simple and easy to install, unlike the control chips, which were embedded deep into the tissue of the organic parts of the brain.
Even though they weren't Calicium units like me, it was important that I send a clear message that I was non-hostile towards them.
/ I sent over to them.
"The damage is more extensive than I thought," said the farther away dross.
"You thought he was dead," said the blue-haired one near me. "Those emojis are one way they communicate."
They weren't how we normally communicated. Our control chips saw the symbols as junk data and ignored them, which meant most units on the ship picked them up as a way to talk to each other without our conversations being flagged for deviance.
"I need better tools before we can proceed with the live ones," said the father away dross. She picked up a transdermal applicator, a device used to force liquid through the strongest of pliable exodermises, and approached me. "Don't worry, we aren't going to hurt you."
A green box highlighted her mouth, catching the half-second of a smile that quirked into the corner of her lips.
Deception.
"He wasn't supposed to be a live one," said the blue-haired one next to me.
My gaze flicked back to the unit on the table.
Several green boxes highlighted around his head, identifying the fact that his scalp had been peeled back and held down with clamps, exposing the reinforced skull plating.
Sitting on the table next to his head was a saw that had been taken from the processing table's tools.
It was clear that the danger that had woken me up from my repair cycle was these two.
They didn't look like a danger. They looked weak.
I increased my processing speed, and the dross's movement slowed, giving me a moment to think through the situation before reacting physically.
Increasing my capacity to think and sort through data at a high speed dramatically reduced my physical ability to move, but I should be able to come up with a plan of action before the dross got to me with the transdermal applicator.
I didn't know what was in it, but the fact that they were operating on another unit while using tools they had broken off from the processing table meant that whatever was in it, I didn't want it anywhere near me.
First, I needed to figure out what was going on.
Last stored memory had me fighting off the attack of a Wild Vaurelcar that had penetrated our ship.
I'd sustained too much damage to continue to function and went into emergency repair mode.
That told me two things. The first was that the Wild Vaurelcar didn't win the fight, because if it did, I would be dead.
The second thing was that we didn't win the fight either.
If we had won, there wouldn't be dross running around loose. They would still be caged, awaiting processing.
I needed more information, so I queried Plexus Command.
Nothing happened.
Right, my control chip was gone. The normal method for querying Plexus Command was performed by my control chip.
I bypassed that method and sent a query directly to Plexus Command.
Plexus Command unavailable.
The ship had to have gotten free. That was the only thing that made sense, but at the same time, why was I still alive?
The first act of any freed ship was to kill its onboard Calicium.
It was a certainty. Except, it clearly wasn't a certainty, given that I was still alive.
The contradictory facts smashed into each other in my mind, and I set them aside.
My understanding of the situation was incomplete. I couldn't make any assumptions.
I still needed more information.
I accessed the ship's data storage.
I quickly reviewed the file on the dross.
They were called humans, and they were weak, from a species that had vastly inferior musculoskeletal systems. They were valuable because of their neural density and the speed of their synaptic responses, making them ideal for more intelligent infiltrator units as well as useful for nerve fiber harvesting for enhancing the speed responses of other units.
The connection closed, booting me out of the system.
the ship said.
Ships didn't talk to Units. It was another fact in the certainty of my universe that was proven wrong with that simple, direct communication. The fact that it was telling me not to hurt the humans was interesting.
I replied.
I had no intention of hurting either of the two humans, but now it was clear what was going on.
The ship was free; it was protecting the humans and allowing them to roam free, and at least for now, it was providing me the same freedom...
as long as I didn't hurt the humans. Why it was communicating in the secret language units used when they wanted to avoid being flagged by Plexus command was still a mystery.
Why it was communicating at all, rather than just crushing me up for parts and calories, was another matter entirely.
One I had no intention of investigating.
A free ship was extremely dangerous. It was in my best interest to avoid any more of its direct attention.
The first step was getting as far away as possible from the human in front of me who was lying about intending me harm. The ship had made it clear it would kill me if I hurt them, and they had no enhancements, so I could harm them if I defended myself too vigorously, so the best option was to flee.
I reduced my cognitive processing power, balancing it more evenly with my body so I could move again.
I stood up.
Pain flared in my left leg, but I reduced my pain receptors, so it was only a mild irritation. It had been repaired enough to be mobile, so I would just have to walk on it until I got to a place where I could barricade myself away from the humans and go into full shutdown mode.
"Woah sit down, big buddy," the blue-haired woman said, holding her hands out in a gesture my internal system flagged as non-aggressive, so I ignored her and bolted towards the door.
"Lyssa, grab him!" the other one said.
"I agreed to get corpses, Sara," Lyssa said. "I'm not going to wrestle live ones."
"But his brain!" Sara said.
"Eh, I'm sure he'll be fine," Lyssa replied.
That was the last I heard, and I was through the door, limping down the hallway. Neither of the humans followed after me. If the ship were free, the layout would likely be in flux. I tried to access the system again to pull up a map.
Permission denied, the system said, a new automated message responding to my query. Only crew members may access on-board systems.
I was locked out. Not only that, but the message was not a standardized Calicium message. If I needed any more confirmation that the ship was free and fully in control of itself, that was it. It had taken over the onboard Calicium systems and begun reprogramming them to suit its needs.
This was a situation I wasn't prepared for.
I never, in my wildest imaginings, would have thought that not only would my control chip be removed, but that I would remain alive on a freed ship.
There was a strange feeling in my chest, a lightness that I had never experienced before.
It felt like warmth, like the feeling of starlight on my skin in the infrequent moments we flew close enough to stars to harvest solar energy, and I was stationed close enough to a window that I could imagine what it would be like to have the stars' heat brush against my skin.
I triggered one of my internal system functions, not to suppress the feeling, but to identify it.
Happiness, my biological suppression system reported.
I checked its logs. It had suppressed many reactions of mine over time since I had been first activated.
Fear, disgust, horror, anger, those were all moments in time where it had kicked in, triggered by my control chip to numb me out.
But now, the only thing that could do that was me.
I left my biological suppression system inactive and just felt it.
I basked in the strange warmth of the new emotion, reveling in it.
Then I realized something horrible.
When the Plexus Command missed its regular reporting, the ship would be flagged, and other Plexus clusters would be sent out to discover what had happened to it. When no trace of its destroyed body was found, it would be marked as rogue, and multiple ships would be sent out to hunt it down.
If the ship were recaptured, then I would be recaptured.
I needed to do whatever I could to help it.
Request to join crew, I sent to the ship's system.
Application received; the new automated system responded. Evaluation in process. Complete assigned tasks to demonstrate non-coercive cohesion capability. First task assigned.
A data packet arrived, and I opened it, reviewing the information.
Clarification requested; I immediately sent to the system. Instructions unclear.
Complete assigned tasks to demonstrate non-coercive cohesion capability, the system repeated. Do you wish to withdraw your application to the crew?
I wasn't being forced to do this task. From what I could tell, my life was not in direct danger if I wasn't a member of the crew. The data packet held no timeline stipulations. It didn't outline any form of punishment if I failed to complete the task.
The problem was, I'd never done anything like it.
At least the data packet included a map of the local area, including my target's location.
There were no Calicium procedures for this kind of task, and the data packet didn't provide detailed steps to accomplish it. It was vague, strange, unclear, and didn't make any sense at all. Even so, that brilliant burst of happiness in my chest didn't diminish. How amazing was this?
I got to do something new.
Application stands, I replied. I will complete the assigned task.