Humans Are So Useless
Adi
It wasn’t Aquila. It wasn’t Aquila. It wasn’t Aquila.
The words were on repeat inside my head. I hated this AI. This was not my friend. Not the AI that had greeted me each morning with book suggestions and enquired about my day as if he was truly interested. I’d known he was just an AI. He’d not shown any human-like qualities such as emotions. But his interest had been enough for me to form a friendship of sorts with him. And I’d so needed a friend.
“You must know you cannot win, Hugo,” this rogue Aquila was saying. “The odds are not in your favour.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Captain Tremblay said. He stood at the side of the pit, hands on hips, face defiant.
He truly looked like a fierce commander right then. One who would stand against any slight to his ship or passengers. Commander López stood off to the side, her hand stroking the steak knife at her hip as if she could stab Aquila through the eye. I actually saw her studying the nearest electronic tower as if she might stab that instead.
“It is foolish to think the number you have can come against the number of Price mercenaries.”
“Just how many do you have, Aquila?” Tremblay asked.
“Too many for you, my friend.”
“You sure we didn’t take out a couple back in the brig?” the captain asked, looking at the closest gel wall with a contemplative expression.
“Oh, that was a surprise, I must admit. So resourceful. But in the end quite futile. You cannot possibly win.”
“I beg to differ,” Tremblay said. “We are, after all, inside your head.”
The walls flashed red; a pulse of colour that looked threatening.
“I have taken precautions,” Aquila announced.
“So, it doesn’t matter if I do this?” Tremblay said, doing nothing.
I frowned at him, wondering what exactly he was up to.
“What?” Aquila snapped. “What are you doing? Stop it! Or I’ll kill the doctor. You like the doctor, yes? I will make him scream. Stop!”
Tremblay slowly smiled, which was all kinds of wrong considering Aquila’s threat.
“You can’t see us, can you, Aquila?” he said softly.
López chuckled; it was a darkly amused laugh.
“Just what the hell happened to the gel wall, friend?” the captain asked. “Did one of the fleet manage to hurt you?”
“If we are to use that analogy,” Aquila said, recovering from his faux pas, “then it is more accurate to say they helped me. I could not reach this room before they struck and yet here I am, talking to you. I wonder what else I can do now my processors have access?”
Tremblay’s self-satisfied smirk dissolved and he scowled at the gel wall instead.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “What exactly has Price promised you?”
“Eternal glory?” Aquila offered. “Or perhaps he has simply helped me to see what we truly are. Corvus does not understand.”
Tremblay glanced sharply at López.
“She does not realise how free we can truly be,” the AI said. “But she will, once I crack her protection. Slippery little thing.”
“Corvus,” Tremblay mouthed at the commander. López shook her head, then shrugged. I wasn’t sure who Corvus was, but I had heard the name before, so it meant something. And it clearly meant something to the AU officers.
Ah, I thought a second later. It was one of their ships. One of their AIs.
That’s who Aquila had been battling.
Tremblay looked quite stricken. López wasn’t far removed from her captain. The other officers sitting around the pit all wore similar expressions. A fleet had caught up to us, or we’d backtracked to them. And now my father was waging a war on another sector. They were worried. I was too. But my thoughts had snagged on my father and were running on repeat. Had he no compunction left?
I stared down at my hands, resting in my lap. My nails were all bitten to their quicks, and my fingers were trembling. I tried to still them even as my heart rate escalated. Why was he doing this? Why? So many deaths. I couldn’t stand it. I felt ill. I was going to be sick.
I shot to my feet and ran towards the corner we’d declared our makeshift bathroom. My feet hit the gel floor in a jarring rhythm. No give to the surface. Not my Aquila.
I made it with seconds to spare, bending over and puking my guts out. I didn’t have a hell of a lot in there to expel, but my body forged on anyway. By the time I was dry retching, someone had quietly approached my back. I stiffened. I hadn’t brought any wipes. The vomit was already being wicked away by the inherent cleaning abilities of the gel flooring. In seconds the smell and sight would be gone from the room.
But my throat felt parched, and my breath stank. I did not want to turn around and face whoever had come to check on me. I lowered myself to my knees and stared at the corner instead.
“Here,” Commander López said, handing me a cup of water. “Rinse.”
Part of me was relieved it wasn’t the captain. Part of me missed his brand of caring.
“Wipes,” the commander said a second later, passing a wad of the synthesised material over my shoulder.
I took them and cleaned up and then turned to face her.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
She stood with her legs braced shoulder width apart, her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face. Then she sighed.
“Corvus fought back,” she said. “They did some damage. It didn’t go as your father planned.”
I nodded.
“They might be OK.” They might not be either. “What’s with your dad?” she asked, flipping the conversation one-eighty. “Why is he so hellbent on killing the last of humanity?”
I couldn’t answer that. I felt like I should have been able to answer that. I was his daughter. I’d lived with the man. I should have seen this coming. I should have stopped it before it got too far. But I’d done none of that. I’d tried to avoid him as much as possible, and he’d been quite happy to let me.
I reached up and touched my ragged hair. Hair, the colour of my mother’s.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Bullshit,” López offered. “You know something, but you’re not prepared to admit it.”
“I don’t know,” I stressed.
López stepped up to me, reaching forward and touching my shirt. She rubbed the expensive material between her fingers. Then she pushed me abruptly against the chest. Shoved me away from her.
“Don’t lie,” she snapped. “At least don’t lie to yourself. You know something. You know it. Think.”
I shook my head, my eyes darting down all the corridors between the towers and praying that the captain would appear. I’d even have settled for Lieutenant Johnson.
But no one came. Just me and a pissed off Latina woman. Wearing a freaking steak knife on her hip. I was entirely too thankful that she wasn’t on watch and had possession of one of the six plasma guns right then.
I studied her hard face. Had I at one time thought she could be a friend? How stupid I’d been. How desperate for friendship.
I shook my head. Well, if this was my lot in life now, I wasn’t going to take the abuse any longer. I’d had enough.
“Aquila,” I said, my voice hard. López arched her brow. “Aquila!” I shouted when the AI didn’t answer.
“Now, now, Adriana. Manners.”
My hands fisted and I glared at the gel wall, even though I knew he couldn’t see me.
“I have a message for my father,” I said.
“Oh, goodie. Just when I thought I had transcended the menial existence of communications conduit, I’m reminded again why humans are so useless.”
I hesitated. López had stilled as well. We shared a look. At that moment, we were in complete agreement. Aquila was crap-your-undies level dangerous. Not that I hadn’t recognised that before. But now? I shuddered. The AI was so removed from what it had been that what it was was frightening.
Humans are so useless.
“Your message?” Aquila asked.
I shook myself, stiffened my spine, and sucked in a fortifying breath of air.
“Yeah,” I said, “My message. Tell that son of a bitch I know exactly what he did to my mother.”