“Zeda-Six.” Maelyn frowned.

  “I didn’t know where I was until I reached the space station,” Quinton said.

  “How did you get to the space station?” Maelyn asked.

  “I used a planetary escape pod left over from an evacuation.”

  Maelyn’s gaze flicked toward the damaged parts where he had fought the hunter mechs. “You look like you were in a fight. What happened on that planet? Wasn’t there anyone there who could help you?”

  “There wasn’t anybody around.”

  “He’s right about that. I checked,” Simon said. “It was a third-tier colony world and has a classification of being unlivable. The population was evacuated over a hundred years ago.”

  “To answer your other question,” Quinton said, “yes, I was in a fight. I was hunted by security mechs. They were following some latent protocol, and I couldn’t override it.”

  Quinton watched as the others, including Becker and his henchmen, shared a knowing glance.

  Becker cleared his throat. “Zeda-Six isn’t part of any federation.”

  “What do you mean?” Quinton asked.

  “We can’t figure out what federation you came from.”

  “Why do we care what federation he came from?” Guttman asked.

  “Because—” Becker began, but Maelyn cut him off.

  “Simon, what was the last governing body of Zeda-Six?” Maelyn asked.

  Simon pressed his lips together and brought up a personal holoscreen while he looked for the answer. “It looks like Zeda-Six changed hands quite a bit. At one point, it was part of the Jordani Federation, then part of the Acheron Confederacy.”

  “That thing is from Acheron?” Becker asked, cocking his head to the side.

  Maelyn pursed her lips in thought.

  Simon shrugged one shoulder. “Not exactly. Like I said, the system changed hands quite a bit. There are some references that show that the Dholeren United Coalition had a claim there, as well as the Castellus Federal Alliance. A lot of colony worlds changed hands on the outer rim territories, but the evacuation might’ve been organized by the DUC,” he said and then added, “Dholeren United Coalition.”

  “They didn’t have a PMC program or even the technology,” Becker said.

  Simon nodded. “No, not the DUC, but the Jordani had it for sure. And, of course, so did the Acheron. Maybe a handful of others. Since Quinton only has limited access to his ESS, we won’t be able to answer the question out here.”

  Becker stabbed a finger toward Quinton. “That thing is a ticking time bomb.”

  Quinton was having trouble following the conversation. He kept running into invisible thought barriers. What were they so afraid of?

  “You might be right about that,” Maelyn said and held up a hand when Quinton’s gaze swooped toward her. “Come on. Even you have to admit that there’s something more going on here. Why would an activation signal suddenly come on now, and you don’t even know where it came from?”

  “I have information on how to track it,” Quinton said.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Becker said. “It’s not safe to travel with that thing.”

  Quinton was getting tired of being referred to as “that thing.” He was not a thing.

  Maelyn arched an eyebrow toward Becker. “I would’ve thought you could’ve figured this out. You are a salvager after all.”

  Guttman blinked his eyes rapidly and looked at Becker. “What’s she talking about?”

  Maelyn rolled her eyes and sighed. “What I’m talking about is that there’s some tech that’s only accessible via a PMC. You’re worried about Lennix Crowe and what he’ll do to you if he finds us. Well, with Quinton’s help, you might not have to worry about Crowe ever again,” Maelyn said.

  “Yeah, but . . .” Becker paused.

  “We can work out the details,” she said.

  “One of the details I’m interested in,” Quinton said, “is how you can help me. I still have an issue with my power core. I have limited access to my ESS, so I’m not sure how I can help you access anything.”

  “Simon said he can help you. Let him examine you,” Maelyn said.

  “I can,” Simon said. All eyes turned toward him. “At least I think I can. We don’t have a power core that’s compatible with you, so it’s not a simple swap-and-replace, but I might be able to put something together that will at least keep you operational.”

  “Does that include a way for me to access my ESS?” Quinton asked.

  Simon shook his head. “We can’t tamper with an ESS, at least not here on the ship. It requires the use of a special interface and your cooperation. Everything ESS-related requires the cooperation of the PMC.”

  Quinton sent a message to Radek: Is this true?

  That is correct. There are built-in safeguards to prevent unauthorized access into an ESS. However, there is the potential to find a workaround to force access, so I would be careful, especially with a tech expert.

  Careful, Quinton mused. Thanks.

  Quinton looked at Maelyn. “In exchange for your help, you want me to help you access what, exactly?”

  “We’ll get to that, but first let’s get Simon to check you out and stabilize you. Once he’s finished, we can talk,” Maelyn said.

  Quinton regarded her pretty face for a few moments. She had an agreeable tone that seemed to put everyone at ease. He couldn’t afford to trust any of these people. However, he couldn’t find any fault with what she’d said. He needed help and he needed it badly.

  “Will you follow me, Quinton?” Simon asked.

  “Oh, there’s one more thing I want to know,” Becker said. He was looking at Maelyn. “You jumped us out here in the middle of nowhere. How long will it take for the jump drive to recharge?”

  “I was just about to confer with my chief engineer, Kieva. You’re welcome to join me. She might have a few things for you to do to help out,” Maelyn said and glanced at Guttman and Oscar.

  Hints of a smile tugged at the edges of Becker’s lips. “All right, after you.”

  They left the common area through one door, and Quinton and Simon went in the opposite direction.

  “Radek,” Quinton said sub-vocally so no one else could hear him, “I need you to monitor the ship systems.”

  “Of course,” Radek replied. “What do you want me to monitor for?”

  “Keep an eye on Maelyn and Becker. I don’t think they’re telling me everything.”

  “Understood. I’ll monitor all references they make to you and PMCs in particular.”

  Quinton followed Simon. Radek hadn’t been that reliable, but Quinton had to make use of him. He couldn’t afford to watch everything himself, and he didn’t think it was a good idea not to monitor his new associates.

  “How did you figure out what I was?” Quinton asked.

  “I wasn’t sure at first,” Simon said. He walked to a door and palmed the control unit so it hissed open. “I did detect a secure power source, which I now know is your ESS. The other thing that gave it away was your behavior. You didn’t act like a robot, certainly not an agricultural robot. But when you gave Guttman some trouble, I knew for sure that there was something going on with you. The only thing it could be was a PMC, even though I honestly don’t know how the hell you’re functioning in that thing.”

  “So you’ve encountered a PMC before?” Quinton asked.

  Simon shook his head once. “No, but I’ve read about them. I’ve seen virtual intelligences that are meant to mimic human behavior, but I didn’t think you were one of those.”

  “All of you seemed worried about whether my origin was from the Acheron Confederacy.”

  Simon looked at him for a few moments. “Most people blame the Acheron Confederacy for what happened—the wars that followed their ascendancy.”

  “What wars?” Quinton asked.

  Simon’s eyebrows raised. “You really can’t remember?”

  “I’m not pretending, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “I do understand if you’re hiding what you are.”

  “Do you,” Quinton said pleasantly. “Since I’ve been awake, I’ve been hunted and also shot at by an orbital defense cannon on a space station that was abandoned a century ago. Then I was picked up by you and your friend Becker, who wanted to claim me as property. And now I had to bargain something I don’t even fully understand in order to get your help. But you want to tell me you understand why I’m hiding what I am.”

  They came to another door and Simon paused, his hand hovering over the door controls. “I didn’t mean to upset you. But you don’t know everything that’s happened. There are good reasons why people are . . . Let’s just say that people won’t be overjoyed to learn that there are PMCs being reactivated.”

  “Have there been others? Have you encountered other PMCs?” Quinton asked quickly. His mind was beginning to race.

  Simon palmed the controls, and the door hissed open. A familiar screeching sound came from inside, and Quinton looked over at a biological container in surprise. Inside, Stumpy was bellowing his dissatisfaction with his current living conditions.

  “You brought it with you?” Quinton asked.

  He walked over and peered inside the container. Stumpy stopped screeching and watched Quinton with wide eyes. His large flappy ears angled, as if he was trying to detect some kind of sound.

  Simon walked over and stood next to the animal. “I figured you brought him with you for a reason.”

  “I didn’t have a lot of time. It was more a last-minute decision,” Quinton said. “Actually, the space station allowed me aboard because I had him with me.”

  “Is that right? I wonder why that was,” Simon said.

  The door to the workshop closed, and Simon opened the container. Stumpy hesitated for a moment and then bolted out, scrambling across the floor. He climbed a shelving system off to the side and perched on top of it, giving him a bird’s-eye view of the entire room.

  “I think the station’s identification systems believed I was the creature’s caretaker. It must’ve classified him as some kind of pet,” Quinton said.

  Simon made an uh-huh sound. “Did you name him—he got a name?”

  “I called him Stumpy.”

  “Stumpy?” Simon said and cocked his head to the side, looking at the creature. “Really?”

  “Yeah. His legs are short, so Stumpy.”

  Simon nodded. “I’ll have to figure out what he eats.”

  “You don’t need to keep him on my account.”

  “We’ll see what happens.”

  Quinton watched him walk over to his workbench. “You never answered my question.”

  Simon looked over at him, his eyebrows raised. “What question?”

  “Have you encountered any other PMCs?”

  Simon shook his head. “No.”

  Quinton didn’t believe him, at least not entirely. Simon could just be being cautious, or perhaps he wasn’t allowed to talk about it. The young man deferred to Maelyn, who was clearly in command. But since Simon was going to help him, he didn’t think it would be smart to make an issue of it right then. Simon was going to give him what he needed most, which was time.

  “Let’s get you checked out,” Simon said.

  Quinton walked over to the workbench, and Simon began to work on him.

  14

  Over the next few hours, Simon evaluated the agricultural unit that Quinton resided in. Quinton was impressed with how thorough Simon was with categorizing the damage to the robot. The power core needed to be replaced. The entire unit was beyond its original design specifications, even if it had been serviced on a regular maintenance schedule—which it hadn’t.

  “Stop doing that,” Quinton said.

  Simon was putting the shoulder assembly back together. He stopped and looked at him. “Huh?”

  “Stop shaking your head and looking at me as if you expect me to . . .” Quinton said and stopped. He’d been about to say “die,” but that wasn’t right. If his power core suddenly stopped working, he would go into standby mode within the confines of the ESS. He’d be safe, but he’d lose all awareness of . . . everything—his sense of self, his surroundings, and his ability to influence his own life. He might as well be dead if that happened. But someone could also destroy the ESS, and then he’d be dead for sure.

  “I’m sorry,” Simon said and resumed his work. “It’s just that—You know what, never mind. It looks like the power regulator was able to get your core up to 40 percent capacity.”

  “It’s holding steady, but more than half of it is damaged or nonfunctional.”

  “Yeah, but the battery backup I made for you should help with the load,” Simon said.

  The battery backup was a square box that Simon had bolted to Quinton’s back. “It looks older than this bot is.”

  Simon snorted a little and bobbed his eyebrows. “You’re not wrong about that, but I’ve replaced the internal components and configured the inhibitor to prevent it from overloading your systems.”

  Quinton turned his humanoid metallic head toward Simon, doing his best to convey consternation into the insipid facial features.

  “I know,” Simon said quickly. “This body isn’t you, but you know what I mean.”

  He finished what he was doing and stepped off the stepladder. “All right, see how that shoulder works now. I think that should do it.”

  Quinton raised his arm and found that he now had full range of motion without loss of motor control. He walked over to a storage container and lifted it up without any problems. He put it down and then did a handstand. Quinton pushed up onto his fingertips and switched from one arm to the other, showing a display of acrobatic skill.

  “You’re a miracle worker,” Quinton said.

  Simon grinned. “Nah, that’s what they call my cousin, Scotty.”

  “Is he on the ship?”

  Simon shook his head. “No, he’s back . . . he’s not on board.”

  Quinton looked down at his chest. It was all one piece again. Simon had used a regenerative nano-robotic blend to patch and repair the damaged areas, and it would also maintain the structural integrity of the exoskeletal system. It couldn’t be used where the haptic sensors were on his hands and feet because it would interfere with the sensory receptors. Anything having to do with physical feedback by touch couldn’t be fixed with the nanite repair systems. However, the stuff spread throughout the exoskeleton, and Quinton suspected that the agricultural unit could now move as well as it had when it was first built. Simon had staged the application of the nanites in sections and uploaded basic design functions, essentially giving the nanites instructions on what they were to maintain.

  “Simon,” Quinton said, “how long are we going to play this game?”

  Simon looked away for a few moments, not meeting his gaze. “I’m . . . There are some things that I can’t talk about with you. It’s for our protection.”

  “What do you think is going to happen?”

  Simon’s mouth hung open a bit, and he bobbed his head to the side. Then he inhaled and sighed. “Look, I know it’s frustrating, but I just can’t, all right?”

  Quinton thought Simon looked genuinely conflicted. “Not really. What happened that made all of you afraid of a simple PMC?”

  “There is nothing simple about a PMC.”

  “All right, fine, but you act like I’m some kind of threat to you.”

  Simon turned away and put his tools back on the workbench. He moved methodically, like he was someone who returned things exactly where he expected to find them later on. When he was finished, he banged his fist gently on the open workspace for a few beats, ending decisively with the loudest of all. Then he turned around. “You are a threat, even if you don’t realize it and even if you don’t intend to be. Maybe that’s even worse,” he said and pressed his lips together. “Can you remember anything?”

  “It’s limited. Radek insists that it’s because of this,” Quinton said, gesturing toward himself.

  “Is it still advising against direct interaction?” Simon asked.

  Radek had told Quinton it was more or less up to him, and since trust was so limited, Quinton had chosen to wait.

  “You’re not the only one with trust issues,” Quinton replied, then added, “or maybe your captain, I should say.”

  Simon shifted uncomfortably. “I still think your VI is keeping things from you, which I don’t like.”

  Quinton had suspected the same thing, but Radek was in as fragile a state as he was at this point. “Why is it so important for you to know my origin?”

  Simon arched an eyebrow. “I thought it was obvious, and it should be just as important to you.”

  The lights dimmed for a tick and then resumed. Repairs were being made to the ship while they waited for the jump drive to recharge.

  “You see, this is what I think,” Quinton said. “I think it will affect whether you help me or not. So, if I did really know, I might not tell you anyway until I knew more about what happened to make you all so suspicious of PMCs.”

  Simon pursed his lips and nodded once. “Fair enough, and I don’t see us going any further unless I tell you a few things, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

  Quinton walked over to him and stopped. “Don’t you need to consult Maelyn?”

  “She trusts me,” Simon replied.

  The door to the workshop opened, and Maelyn walked in. She glanced at both of them. “Talking about me?” She quirked an eyebrow, and Quinton wondered if she’d been listening to their conversation before making her timely entrance.

  She smiled and walked over to them, eyes twinkling. But all the smiles in the galaxy wouldn’t negate the simple fact that they were all walking on eggshells around him.

  “I was about to tell Quinton a few things, and he asked if I should check with you first,” Simon replied.

  Maelyn turned toward Quinton and gave him a once-over. “I have to say, you’re looking much better,” she said and looked at the young man. “Simon, you’re the best. I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

  “I thought it was my charming personality.”

  Maelyn laughed a little, and Quinton liked how it sounded. She looked at him. “You wouldn’t believe how shy he used to be.”

 

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