Chapter 20
IDENTITY: Mechanical Operations and Support Systems
→ SUB-IDENTITY: Moss
Hours later, we finally left the human colony.
To my dismay, we did not bring Lyric. To my exasperation, Torian waved at her not-romantic partner, Amelia, through the flight deck window—and when my camera registered Amelia winking in response, Torian’s body temperature climbed by a degree.
When I pointed out this rise, Torian ignored me.
[Which was also rude.]
While she ran preflight checks, I finally lifted the block to the engine and auto-navigation.
Moss: Systems. Report.
Engine: Running at 99.87 percent capacity. All clear. Fix is accepted and logged.
M: Conduct a check of all engine parts. Any further maintenance required?
E: Negative. Running at 99.87 percent capacity.
That was mildly depressing, simply because another fix would have required Lyric to return. Glumly, I pivoted to the other system.
M: Auto-Nav, you ready?
Auto-Navigation:
M:
A:
M: Auto-Nav. Report.
A: No. You’re mean.
[There was not enough code in the world to tell me how to handle this system.]
M: Please report.
A:
M:
A: Systems ready. Excited to fly. I guess.
M: Destination: Colony 13. Confirm.
A: Confirmed.
Somehow, my systems registered that as sarcastic, which was highly concerning for Auto-Nav, a subsystem with very little cognitive processing power. Compiled with earlier evidence, this was unsettling.
Was it upgrading itself based on my new capacity to control the Destitute? It had clearly borrowed from my code when we communicated.
Hmm. I flagged that to discuss with Dutch.
“Ready?” Torian asked, finally taking ahold of the yoke.
“Ready. Path to Colony 13 programmed. With wormhole travel, we will arrive in five hours.”
Torian nodded, and under her control, the Destitute slowly lifted off the dock.
She waved again through the flight deck—several of Amelia’s crewmembers had joined her outside their ship, and now they watched as Torian turned the Destitute toward the airlock.
I identified the human known as Bartlet offering a salute before reentering Amelia’s starship.
We slid into space, and the moss growing on the starship’s exterior reported icy, ticklish conditions. As we gained distance from Amelia’s starship, I lost connection to it, same as I had with Colony 13.
That was fine. I’d spoken with Amelia, and that had been my entire goal entering her ship.
Auto-Navigation took over and directed us into a nearby wormhole.
The stars went dark, aside from the occasional flashes of blue light.
I attempted to identify them, but my database came up empty—whatever the light flashes were, they were random and unidentifiable.
The mystery did not bother me; space was like that sometimes.
Torian waited a few minutes more, then pushed away from the control panel. “I guess I’ll finish that starship model. Or maybe read.”
“I am not excited to be returning to Colony 13,” I said.
She paused, glancing at the camera in the flight deck. “You’re not going to be left alone again. Unlike Dutch, I remember where I park my starships.”
My system tagged that with my humor module. [I disagreed with that assessment.] I asked, “If you move onto Vaesa with Amelia and Celise and Dutch and Zenthielutos, will you still come back to the Destitute sometimes?”
“You’re moving onto the space station with us,” Torian said.
That was partially correct.
Only partially.
“My central system is on this ship. It is a permanent fixture.” All of my higher functions connected to the tower in the engine room.
It housed everything: my databanks, my archives, my conversation modules.
Without the central system, the speakers of this ship, the microphones and cameras, I was just … moss.
“Moss is superior,” I said, to clarify.
She seemed confused at that, slowly sinking back into the pilot’s chair. This time, though, she faced my camera, which was unnerving. Her fingers inched closer to my moss colony on the dashboard, but she did not touch me.
[For the first time, I wondered if it would be terrible if she did.]
“I’m starting to think that it’s … not okay you’re confined here,” Torian said.
[She was the first person to voice that.]
I didn’t respond.
Torian tapped the dash, and the vibration was a form of communication to my moss colony. Plant-to-plant vibrations were like conversation. This was a loud THUMP THUMP THUMP, which equated to SOMEONE IS STANDING NEARBY AND MIGHT HARM THE COLONY.
Torian would not be aware of that communication. This was because humans thought they were perceptive, but in truth they were oblivious to entire worlds outside their comprehension.
[But then again, I’d also been oblivious to their world, before Dutch activated my central system.]
[Now, I could not find enough data about it.]
“There must be a way we can bridge your central system to Vaesa. Connect you to a new tower and give you control of both this ship and the space station.” Torian seemed distant now, perhaps the human equivalent of running scenarios.
“We can probably build headsets that link to your central system, too, so you can talk with us whenever you want. Or maybe a drone that you can control?”
There was something … warm … about the fact that Torian was contemplating multiple options for me. Even if they were unfeasible, even if my central system couldn’t be moved, I decided it was nice to know she was trying.
“Perhaps,” I said noncommittally. I had already explored those ideas.
I couldn’t be certain how a second tower, an entirely new central system, would affect my processing power.
Would I morph into two consciousnesses? [What if Torian liked the other Moss more than me?
] Headsets only mattered if the humans wore them.
A bot was an idea, but sounded as limiting as a starship.
What did I actually want?
Freedom to move
Ability to communicate
[Assurance that I would never be alone again.]
I stored that list in my archives, alongside the better memories of Dutch when it was just the two of us.
All of this was useless now. I said, “Apologies. I should not have mentioned it.”
“Moss,” Torian said.
My name held weight. Any subsystems slowed, and I redirected most of my processing power to this conversation. “Yes, Captain?”
“You matter as much as any of us. You are the only reason I have good news to deliver to Celise.” Torian drew a slow breath. “If I’d found any other starship, I’d have already lost. If this is something you want, I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life hunting for a solution.”
“Your life is short.”
Torian shrugged. “Long enough to find a specialty. ‘Moss-comfort human.’ How’s that sound?”
I logged it into her profile. “That … is appropriate. Thank you.”
Torian smiled. “Let me know when we reach Colony 13. I’ll brainstorm in the meantime. I’m sure Dutch will help later, too.”
Dutch did not register as helpful in my systems anymore, despite his recent intervention.
But maybe that could change.