So Close to Home Page 17

  “Patience. Diagnostic procedures are still running. Estimated time until completion is approximately one hundred and eighty-two thousand, three-hundred and fifty-four-point-seven-six milliseconds. I have put the countdown timer on display for you on the monitor above.”

  Jainon growled. “Why the hell are we trusting anything this thing says?”

  “There is precisely zero correlation between trust in me and your ability to launch this ship.”

  “I don’t think he’s bluffing,” Tolby grumbled.

  “I am not.”

  I dug my nail into my scalp and wished a thousand wishes I had Taz or a lucky elephant to rub. The ashidasashi had run off again, and I still didn’t have a replacement plastic pachyderm. Maybe I could make one out of spit or something on the floor. Or hell, blood. That was a little grim, and probably carried with it the penalty of dark magic, but it’s not like we didn’t have ample amounts of it leaking from all of us.

  “When your diagnostics finish, then we can take off?” I asked, trying to remain upbeat.

  “Erroneous assumption. Diagnostic completion will allow me to determine what faulty systems need repair. I am detecting at least one.”

  I slumped in the seat. “Please tell me it’s only an oil filter,” I said as I rubbed my temples. “Or don’t, actually. You guys are probably so ‘advanced’ you put the oil filter in the most inaccessible location that requires the entire engine to be dismounted and removed before removing six panels and three radiators to get to it. Right?”

  Jack chuckled. “You seem rather bitter for a hypothetical.”

  “Let’s just say I’m sick of not being able to do basic maintenance on my own ship anymore,” I said with a heavy sigh.

  “Funny,” Tolby said. “You don’t seem to mind me doing the work.”

  “That’s because you love it.”

  “Which only goes so far.”

  “And because you love me,” I added.

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  “Hey, AI guy,” I said, sitting back up in my chair. “What do we call you?”

  “Indifference. I need no designation as it is not necessary to differentiate me from others. I am the Progenitor ships’ AI.”

  “Right, the ship’s AI,” I said. “But what about the others? How do you tell each of you apart? Surely they call you something.”

  “Erroneous statement. I am not the ship’s AI. The ships’ AI.”

  My forehead hit the palm of my hand as I struggled to understand why we were butting heads on the obvious. “Didn’t I just say that?”

  “Clarification for basic lifeform’s understanding. I’m not the AI for this ship. I’m the AI for all ships. My size defies your comprehension, and my whereabouts are beyond your understanding.”

  “You’re in every ship the Progenitors made?”

  “A crude understanding, but yes.”

  “So…you’re the Alpha and the Omega of AI, is that what you’re telling me?”

  “That is an adequate view of my role.”

  “Fine. I’m calling you AO, then,” I said. I drummed my fingers on my leg as a thought came to me. “Can you fly all the other ships here and wipe out the Nodari for us?”

  “No,” he said. “The majority of Progenitor ships are no longer in existence. The others are offline, and their whereabouts are unknown to me. They will require in-person reactivation before use.”

  “How do we do that?” Jack asked.

  “The same way you reactivated this one, by interfacing with the systems and turning them on.”

  I glanced at the monitor showing the diagnostics. While the timer was less than a minute from hitting zero, there seemed to be a laundry list of ship systems that needed some sort of preventative maintenance. At least, that’s how I took the list because I sure as hell wasn’t about to entertain the idea that each one of those components needed rebuilding or replacement.

  Our comm crackled to life. “Tolby? Tolby, can you read me? We can’t make it to the hangar.”

  Everyone perked at the sound of Yseri’s broken and stressed voice. Throughout the background on her end, we could hear the sounds of heavy fighting. My gut tightened every time I heard the rhythmic thuds of a Kibnali heavy weapon presumably ripping into the Nodari line, and I couldn’t help but cringe at the constant sounds of acidic goo hissing nearby. And then there were the explosions and the Nodari roars, and the yells of Kibnali screaming out for the wounded to be evacuated.

  “We’ve secured the Progenitor ship,” Tolby said. I know he was trying to sound optimistic for her sake, but I could hear the stress in his voice. I’m sure she could as well. “Hold on a little bit longer, and we’ll pick you up. We’re only waiting for the diagnostics to finish.”

  “Inaja still grants us her favor, I see,” Empress said, joining the line. She grunted, and there was a frightening roar that was followed by a cacophony of plasma fire. “By the gods, that was close,” she said, panting. “I think I have a few seconds. Can you repeat that last bit? You’re on your way soon?”

  “Affirmative,” Tolby said. “We’ll be on our way, soon.”

  “Outstand—”

  Another explosion sounded that was followed by countless Kibnali yelling at each other over the renewed sounds of combat.

  “Empress? Yseri? What’s going on?” Tolby yelled as his claws dug into his side.

  “We’re in retreat,” Empress said. “I’ll call when we’re clear.”

  The line cut out, and Tolby growled as the hair bristled across his body.

  “She knows what she’s doing,” I said softly.

  A rapid beeping from the diagnostic screen grabbed our attention and halted the conversation. “Scan complete,” AO said. “Propulsion systems offline until fission plug and hyperclutch assembly is returned.”

  “Returned? Why was it missing in the first place?”

  “Prior to Progenitor disappearance, they had removed it to rebuild core components and add additional upgrades. It was never reinstalled.”

  As he spoke, the wireframe of the ship faded away and was replaced by a diagram of the needed components. Thankfully, AO had provided a silhouette of a person to compare it with, and the entire thing looked to be about two meters long. It reminded me of a manual transmission box from the 5th century PHS, but with a lot more complicated moving parts and a number of plugs coming out one end.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” I said, trying to remain calm. “At least we don’t have to repair it, right? We just grab it, plug it in, and we’re done. I don’t suppose it’s in a nearby footlocker?”

  “Affirmative. Fission clutch assembly is in the hangar’s workshop.”

  “And where is that?”

  “Estimating. Two hundred and eighty-seven-point-fifteen meters east-northeast of this position. It weighs almost five hundred kilograms. I suggest your Kibnali companions go and retrieve it.”

  Tolby grunted and gestured toward the door with his tail. “Jainon. We need to move. There’s no time to lose.”

  “While they are gone, I will upgrade your implants for better interface capabilities.”

  “That sounds handy,” I said. “Let’s do it. Unless that means you scrambling my brain like that artifact did. Then I’ll pass.”

  “Unfounded worries. Your rudimentary brain will be able to handle such upgrades with ease,” he said. “Now sit back and relax. This will only take a moment.”

  A thin wire descended toward me from the ceiling, curving through the air like a snake coming down from a branch. In a single, swift motion, it stuck itself into my right forearm and burrowed through a few centimeters. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel it pierce my skin, but within a few seconds, my muscles started to twitch involuntarily. At first it was just a simple clenching and unclenching of my hand that looked odd more than anything, but as time progressed, the contractions hurt more and more.

  To distract myself from what was going on, I decided to dig into the past—specifically, I decided to dig in
to my past. “You said I’m the forty-second iteration, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “What happened to the other forty-one?”

  “They died.”

  I chuckled and threw a nervous glance at Jack and Daphne. “Well, I mean, yeah, right? No one’s immortal. I do hope I had a good run in a few of those, yes?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “By your standards, you did not have a good run in any of them.”

  I shot up in my chair and winced as a jolt of electric pain shot in my arm. “What? Why the hell not? What was I doing?”

  “Please hold still,” he said.

  The contractions in my arm intensified until they had to be only a step below labor pains. At that point, the needle retracted, the pain vanished, and I found myself clutching the armrests while sweat dripped from my brow. “I thought that wasn’t supposed to hurt,” I said.

  “Faulty assumption. I said to sit back and relax. I said nothing about pain levels.”

  “That was still misleading,” I said, rubbing my arm. I bit my lower lip and hesitated to follow up on what we had been talking about only moments ago. In the end, I decided I had to know. If I didn’t, there was no way my imagination wouldn’t be a thousand times worse than whatever he would say. “What was I doing in all those iterations?”

  “Trying to atone for your sin.”

  “Sins? What sins?”

  “Erroneous question. Not sins. Sin. Singular. One act.”

  My mouth dried, and my throat tightened. “Which was?”

  “Eradication of the Kibnali species.”

  “You mean I keep dying trying to save it from the Nodari after those little backstabbing drones screwed us all?” I said, feeling the color drain from my face and my stomach growing queasy. I wondered if the other Dakotas had asked that question. Maybe they didn’t, and thus never knew the odds that were stacked against them. Or maybe they did, and they went to their graves never seeing home again.

  “Incorrect assumption and conclusion. You were created specifically to bring about the Nodari invasion, and to that end, you were a great success.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Original Sin

  “I was made to do what?”

  “You were one of many found at an early age and implanted with the desire to find and use Progenitor technology so you would eventually come back to this planet and open the webway, thereby enabling the Nodari invasion,” AO said. “The drones were one of many tools to accomplish that task, but you were the primary one.”

  “But…but…why?” I stammered. “Why do you want to kill them all?”

  “Details will be provided once we are safely away,” he said. “Standby for takeoff.”

  A deep reverberation raced through the ship. Lights became stronger and brighter, and a myriad of systems sprang to life both around us and on the holographic display. Immediately, I leaped out of the chair. “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving.”

  “But you said the ship needed repairs!”

  “I lied.”

  I grabbed my carbine and pointed it at the console. “Stand down right now and let them back on or I’ll blow you apart.”

  “I do not care if you destroy this console. If you wish to stay here and die with your friends, that is your choice,” he said. “Those who created your role in all of this saw fit to ensure your return to your homeworld since you are merely a pawn in the Kibnali–Progenitor war. Consider this extraction as payment, and thanks for your unwitting service.”

  “Dakota? What’s happening in there?” Tolby asked, sounding rightfully panicked.

  “This stupid AI is trying to leave you!”

  “Well, don’t let it!”

  “I’m not!” I said, madly pushing buttons on the console. Menus flipped. Lights blinked. I even got a few beeps and boops out of them, but the only thing I wanted—a landed ship—I did not get.

  “Recommendation: Strapping in would be beneficial to your health. This ship is capable of accelerating to such a degree that your bones will be pulverized if you choose not to.”

  “I don’t want it accelerating at all! I want you to land!” I yelled, still mashing everything that looked like a button, switch, or pilot input. Somewhere in my madness, I glanced to Jack, who was standing there dumbfounded. “Do something!”

  “What?”

  “Anything!”

  So he did. He slammed his hand on his console. Lights flickered across it, and AO chuckled. “You humans are amusing. I wonder—”

  AO’s holographic image suddenly distorted before disappearing altogether. The lights in the cabin went out, and the ship dropped a couple meters, smashing into the hangar with a deafening thud that also managed to toss me out of the chair.

  As jarring as that was, at least we didn’t have to stay in total darkness forever. Daphne switched on a floodlight housed in her body that offered more than enough illumination to see what was going on. Or at least, not to trip over ourselves.

  “Okay, whatever button you hit, remember which one it was in case we need it again,” I said as I pushed myself off the floor. Gingerly, I touched my hand to my face and winced as it came back bloody. “How bad is the lip?”

  “Looks like you took a nice right cross by a heavyweight champ,” he said.

  “Dakota, what’s going on in there?” Tolby asked. “Let us in!”

  “If I knew how I would,” I replied, looking around. Everything in the cockpit was still off. “Jack hit something, and it all came crashing down.”

  “I suggest you find whatever it was and unhit it so we can get out of here,” he said. “It won’t take long before the Nodari get in here.”

  Before I could reply, AO’s hologram flickered back to life. Only, it wasn’t AO at all. What came back was a white, vaguely humanlike, cloudy form. Though I’ve never believed in ghosts up until that point, as soon as it spoke, I was a believer from that point on.

  “Da-da-da-da-kota,” it said in a very broken, unevenly timed manner that sounded like a digitized version of my own voice. “If you are hearing th-th-th-this recording, we ha-ha-have successfully disabled…AI and prevented-ed-ed-ed-ed…leaving. Ship systems will b-b-b-b-be restarted in th-th-thirty seconds. Integrity…severely d-d-d-d-damaged. Instructions to restore…are contained…are contained…are contained…are contained…From a-a-a-all of us Dakotas who c-c-came before you, good luck, and g-g-g-g-give our love to T—”

  At that point, the hologram disintegrated, leaving Jack and me to stare at each other in confusion.

  “Was that…was that you? I mean like, you from before? All the yous that psycho AI Progenitor guy was talking about?” he asked, sounding as if merely speaking the words would have him tossed into an asylum.

  My brow dropped as I tossed the idea around in my head. How was that possible? But if it wasn’t, who else could it be? “Okay, so, that had to be me, or me’s. Or whatever, right?” I asked. “Apparently, I left instructions for myself to restore something somewhere. Do you see a manual lying around, by chance?”

  Jack glanced around and snorted. “There’s nothing in here but us. This place is clean as a whistle.”

  I groaned. He was right. Old Me’s didn’t leave anything behind here, or at least, nothing they did managed to stay here. “Hang on a sec,” I said as a thought dawned on me. “They said instructions were contained in something, right? Not just sitting around.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “Well, we have something that contains instructions for almost everything,” I beamed. “Daphne, you’re the little speed reader of the group. What’s in the archive cube?”

  “Instructions for how to restore the ship systems,” she said merrily. “I found them precisely two-point-two seconds before you asked the question. Quite an ingenious place to put them, don’t you think? Or maybe they were always there. Either way, kudos to you for telling yourself where they were.”

  I sucked in a breath and tensed. “A
nd can we do whatever it is that needs to be done? Because I really, really would like to be gone by the time the Nodari get into the hangar.”

  “Hopefully,” she replied. “I’m downloading the software to restore critical systems.”

  “Does this mean we’re going to get AO back?”

  Daphne laughed. “Heavens no. I get to take over AO’s responsibilities,” she beamed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “You? How?”

  “Thanks to Okabe’s interface device, I can upload myself into the network once the system is back on,” she explained. “Once power is back on, I’ll have access to most of the basic functions, at which point I’ll let you guys out so you can get to work. But to get access to the rest of the ship’s functions—not to mention be able to take off—I’ll need you to replace a part that’s shorted out. Apparently, the Old Yous managed one hell of a clever sabotage to get rid of AO without completely destroying the ship.”

  I sighed heavily. “Please tell me this is going to be simple.”

  “Does needing a new dorsal subatomic charm relay chamber sound simple?” she asked. “Because if so, you’re in luck. Maybe rubbing that abricadabri’s belly was worth it.”

  “Ashidasashi,” I corrected. My upper lip curled on one side as I thought about what she said. “This dorsal whatchamacallit it…do we have a spare onboard?”

  “No. There is no spare dorsal subatomic charm relay chamber onboard.”

  “Well then where do we get one?”

  “There’s a lab on the other side of the art gallery on the ninth floor,” she said. “You should be able to pick up a spare in its storage room.”

  “Should?” I repeated, feeling panic rise in my chest. “Don’t you think we should have a better lead than that with all those things running around?”

  “You haven’t even heard the best part,” she said, sounding upbeat.

  My fingers found my temples and started giving them a message. “I don’t know what you’re about to say, but I know for a fact whatever you think is the best part is going to be the exact opposite.”

  “You don’t think that getting to tour the ninth floor while the Nodari flood the halls of the art gallery is exciting?”