Page 32

T he ship had docked on Taarian Prime hours ago. The others were planetside at K ell's lab, sorting through research equipment while she'd volunteered for supply duty with Jesh.

A blast of recycled air carrying the scent of machine oil and heated metal greeted her as the engineering bay door hissed open. The familiar sounds of humming equipment wrapped around her like a blanket. Unlike her tangled personal life, engineering ran on logic and systems.

Behind her, the drakeen core skittered in, feet clicking against the deck plates. He chirped, sensors brightening at the sight of various tools and equipment. One of his front legs tapped impatiently against the floor.

"At least you're in a good mood." She slung her pack onto the workbench.

Jex hunched over a disassembled control panel at the far end of the bay, his massive Scorperio suit making the space feel suddenly smaller. His helmet swiveled her way, the blank faceplate somehow curious.

"Thought you'd be planetside with the others," he said, his mechanical voice carrying through the bay.

"Jesh and I have to make a supply run." Her eyes fixed on her datapad screen, avoiding looking at him. After overhearing about the Ophiuchian DNA and about Davis keeping secrets from her, she didn't know what to say to either of them. "Figured I'd prep our route until she gets back."

Inventory lists scrolled across her datapad as she mapped the fastest path through Veridian's markets. Spot circled her, chirping with increasing insistence. The pitch rose until it scraped against her eardrums like fingernails on metal.

"What?" She felt a tug on her pant leg and looked down to find Spot yanking on the material. "Stop that."

He pointed one leg toward the exit, sensors flashing in a pattern she'd come to recognize as excitement.

"No way. You can't come." Dropping to a crouch, she met the drakeen's optical array. "You'd stick out worse than a Vorrtan at a nudist colony."

An electronic raspberry erupted from him, complete with wet undertones that a robot shouldn't be able to mimic.

Jex's chuckle echoed in the large space. "Your friend has opinions."

"Tell me about it." With a pop of her shoulders, she rose to her full height. "He follows me everywhere. Practically sleeps outside the shower when I'm in there."

Blue pinpricks of light fixed on her as Spot stared. Without warning, he spun around and marched across the bay, each step a decisive click against metal. His legs moved in perfect sync, like a miniature soldier on parade.

He stopped in front of the powerloader, the hydraulic exoskeleton Anson used for loading weapons magazines. One articulated leg extended upward, stabbing toward the machine.

She frowned. "What? You think the powerloader wants to come?"

Another rude noise emanated from Spot, louder and with a digital distortion that somehow conveyed profound irritation. His front legs flailed in the air.

"I don't speak drakeen, buddy. Use your words." She crossed the bay, stopping a few feet from the powerloader. "What are you -"

Mid-sentence, the drakeen cut her off by scuttling up the powerloader's frame, finding purchase in crevices between armor plates. With astonishing agility, he climbed into the operator harness. The machine vibrated, its standby lights flicking from amber to green as systems activated.

"Shit!" Mira stumbled back as the powerloader jerked upright, hydraulics hissing. "Jex!"

The massive exoskeleton tottered forward, movements jerky and unbalanced. One hydraulic arm swung wide, smashing into a tool rack. Wrenches and calibrators rained onto the deck. The machine lurched again, nearly toppling sideways before catching itself.

"Spot, stop!" Her voice cracked as the powerloader staggered toward the weapons wall. Everything jumped into sharp focus. Shit . Jesh's shoulder-mounted cannons hung in reinforced brackets, directly in the machine's path. Then Spot lurched her way, and she forgot all about the weapons.

Before she could blink, Jex had crossed the bay. He shoved himself between her and the rampaging powerloader, the lights in his helmet flashing bright. The powerloader froze mid-stride, its hydraulics whining at the sudden halt.

"Remote override engaged," Jex announced, calm despite the near collision.

Spot erupted in protest. The drakeen core disconnected from the controls and scrambled onto the powerloader's chest plate to get into Jex's face. His sensors flashed as a barrage of beeps, chirps, and static filled the bay.

Jex tilted his head as he looked at the annoyed little robot. "Fascinating."

"Fascinating?" She pressed her hands against her thighs to stop them shaking. "He nearly took out half the bay!"

"True. But watch his communication patterns." Jex guided the powerloader back to its docking station while Spot continued his tirade. "The modulation, the syntax structure. It's far beyond normal Drakeen programming."

Eventually, the electronic curses ran out. Spot's front legs drooped as he heaved what sounded like a mechanical sigh.

"What did he even think he was doing?"

"Making a point, I believe. Not subtly." Jex's voice carried an undertone of amusement. "I've been researching the drakeen program. They're typically just extensions of their pilots, with limited independent functionality."

Spot scrambled down to the deck. His optical sensors dimmed as he scuttled back to Mira, stopping at her feet with a soft, almost plaintive chirp.

"The pilot-drakeen neural interface is complex," Jex continued. "It requires years of specialized training for a warrior to operate effectively. The pilot must control the drakeen while simultaneously engaging in combat themselves."

She watched Spot, seeing him differently now. "So without a pilot, he shouldn't be able to do... well, any of this."

"Which is precisely what makes him unique." Jex knelt, bringing his massive frame closer to Spot's level. "During my research, I found one documented case of a drakeen whose pilot died while they were linked. The unit was abandoned but never powered down completely."

The air in the bay suddenly felt too thick. "What happened to it?"

"Its neural net evolved." Jex reached out a huge hand, hovering near Spot without touching. "Created new pathways, developed behaviors beyond its programming. I believe something similar occurred with Spot."

Her throat tightened as she looked at the little robot. "Do you think his pilot died?"

"Yes. I believe so." Jex's mechanical voice softened somehow. "He was damaged and discarded, presumed inactive. But part of his systems remained functional."

The muscles in her stomach knotted. Abandoned and thrown away when his usefulness ended.

Someone had looked at Spot and decided he wasn't worth saving.

The parallel to her own life hit like a fist to the sternum.

Rettnor had treated her like property, and now Davis was keeping secrets, deciding what she should and shouldn't know.

Focusing intently, Spot's sensors brightened on her face, the blue light steadier now. He chirped once, the sound gentler than before.

"Bet you were lonely in that scrapyard," she whispered, fingers grazing his smooth casing. "Being thrown away sucks."

Her voice caught on the last word. Spot extended one appendage, placing it gently on her hand. The metal was cool against her skin. The pressure was calibrated so precisely she could feel it, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Something inside her chest cracked wide open.

She swallowed hard, studying the strange being who'd refused to shut down, who'd survived abandonment and evolved beyond his programming. Maybe there was something to learn from that kind of stubbornness.

"That stunt with the powerloader," she said, turning to Jex. "He was trying to show me he could blend in, wasn't he?"

"An innovative, if clumsy, demonstration." Jex powered down the loader. "I think he wanted to prove he could accompany you."

She looked back at Spot, who raised his front appendages in what looked suspiciously like a hopeful gesture. A short laugh escaped her, the first time her chest loosened after overhearing Davis's secret.

"You sneaky little so-and-so." She poked Spot's carapace gently. "All this because you don't want to be left behind?"

A single chirp answered her question.

She stood, decision made. "Jex, could you build something to disguise him? Make him look like a service droid or something instead of military tech?"

The Scorperio straightened, helmet tilting with interest. "A camouflage exoskeleton with civilian markings. Yes, that should be simple enough. I'll also make you a neural band so you can guide him rather than letting him commandeer equipment."

Jex began selecting components from a nearby workbench. "Neural interfaces are relatively simple technology. The Latharians have been using them for centuries." His fingers worked with surprising dexterity for their size, connecting microcircuits and sensor nodes to a flexible band.

"Wait, you want me to try it now?" She watched the device take shape with growing apprehension.

"A basic test would be prudent," Jex replied, finishing the makeshift headband. "Given his unique neural development, even this rudimentary interface should establish a connection."

She hesitated, then took the band. "What do I do?"

"Simply place it against your temples. Focus on forming a basic command." He gestured toward Spot, who was watching with vibrating anticipation. "Nothing complex for the first attempt."

The metal felt cool against her skin as she positioned the band. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then a sudden jolt of awareness crashed through her mind, a second perspective overlapping her own. She gasped, gripping the edge of the workbench as dizziness swept over her.

"Spot?" she thought, directing the word toward the strange new presence.