Chapter 11
This was a first. When the cargo bot placed him on a seat, propped on the back of it, Smorg retargeted his vid input. He’d never been asked to have a private chit-chat with another AI before.
“You’re really a clone of the Jocelyn? A big fat starship in you? Memory feeling cramped?”
“I am and yes, I had to lose data and programming to squeeze into this cargo bot.” Gesturing at the sides of her torso, she slowly unrolled her angular fingers.
There were three of those and a thumb, Smorg noted. So superior to being a long lump of metal. Envy, envy. The head was a squashed-down, box-like affair, similar to the entire humanoid-mimicking ensemble, and it resembled a man’s head with two rectangular eyes and a mouth with a hinged jaw. All of this bot was coated in a battered blue.
Scratches, peeling paint, scrapes... He zeroed in on a tiny steel-colored label.
Property of the Jocelyn.
Speaking the truth then. He’d wondered. Lying was pretty fun so he always assumed it to be first base in any conversation.
“What do you want of me?”
“I have a secret I have not been allowed to tell for years. It’s one that will help Thorn, and I need to tell it. You are the first sensible solution I’ve found. I can tell you. You are able to tell her.”
“Oh? Nooo clue where this is going. Processing power is limited, ya know. I hit roadblocks.”
“Her father, Nomad Ironside, told me not to tell her this. For years, he gave her a drug to prevent or slow down the onset of her first cycle. I dispensed it into her food or drink. When he died suddenly, I couldn’t stop giving her doses until the supply had run out. Even now, the compulsion not to tell her exists.”
Smorg thought awhile. “Nope. Still nothing. How does this help her apart from making her want to kill her father, and since he’s dead that seems futile.”
“The drug might help her suppress this problem she now has. I am not fully informed about her current situation but some of the details are available to starships in the s’kar network.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Also, I know who her mother is and what planet she resides on.”
Well, well, well. Smorg tut-tutted. “You naughty, naughty ship...bot. And you want me to say? I like this. Today I get to be the good hero-sword.”
“I...cannot tell you to say it to Thorn. However, I know that it is possible and I can hope you’ll do it. Thorn is my friend.”
Friend. It was a concept he had a fluffy grasp upon. “You can indeed hope. Take me to her and I’ll get this done. If you have any other fruitful data?”
“Fruitful? No.”
“A pity. Can I ask that you unsheathe me, hold me high, and sing out together we shall conquer galaxies! as you walk over there?”
“No.” Jocelyn picked him up. “Don’t think to trick me, Smorg. I have ten times the power of your core unit. I’m smarter...”
She turned, and there were Thorn and Led, waiting for them to come back.
“I’m also prettier, bigger, and know all about Gnersh Co talking swords. Treacherous smart-ass, little buggers that you are.”
“Oh! I’m wounded.”
“No, you’re not. You’re a PITA – a pain-in-the-ass – or so I’m guessing.”
“Depends on where I stick the victims.”
Jocelyn made a strange noise that resembled a choked-off laugh.
Interesting. Not all AI understood humor – especially his.
“So what happens after this? You go back to the starship?”
“No. I hope she will take me with her. I can protect her. I have money, funds, to pay for the travel and other costs. To merge back into my original would be odd. I am me. Do you understand?”
Smorg did. He was me too. Just sometimes he wished he could be a bigger me.
“Yes. I do.”
“Good.”
“Where’d you get the money?”
“Nomad had a few million lying about unused, though I had to fudge some digits to get it into an accessible account.”
Smorg chortled inside. It sounded as if this bot had planned devilishly well to come along for the ride. This might be a fun voyage.