Lyric’s lips tugged into a smile. “Okay.”
They discussed logistics for a bit—how Lyric would pack up their shop, how long closing their business might take. It wouldn’t happen in a day, or a week, but Lyric took the radio frequency Moss provided and said they’d call when they were ready.
Maybe Torian imagined it, but it seemed like they had a bounce in their step when they left theDestitute.
Torian closed the ship behind them, blinking past burning eyes. It was very late now, and she was beyond ready for some sleep. As she trudged to the living area to clean the dishes from dinner, she asked, “What did Lyric do that made you so enamored?”
“I am not enamored. That word has a distinctly romantic subtext, and I—”
“Don’t do romance. I know.”
Moss paused. “They talked to me like Dutch used to. Before everything.”
Torian smiled, feeling warm inside. “I’m glad our ship broke down, then.”
“Perhaps.” Another grudging silence, then Moss said quietly, “You are still my favorite, Torian.”
She paused while washing a plate, smiling at the ceiling. “Aww. You too, Moss.”
IDENTITY: Mechanical Operations and Support Systems
→SUB-IDENTITY: Moss
TIME/DATE: 01:15/Januous 15, Year 90113 [System U2Ab Universal]
LOCATION: Colony 4 [human]
After Torian went to bed and Lyric, my favorite new mechanic botanist human, left, I was again alone. I did not like that.
However, the spores I had released earlier had finally found their way into Amelia’s starship—which meant I had gained control of her systems. While there were video records I could have downloaded, Torian had not appreciated that. There was an 87 percent likelihood that Captain Amelia Perrosk, the pilot smuggler human, would feel the same.
So, I located the captain’s quarters and accessed the radio there. I could not find a camera in this room, which left me using only audio to anchor myself. I turned on the microphone for a moment, and identified the sound of running water.
There was a small washroom on theDestitute, and because humans were strange, non-flora creatures, Torian occupied it once per day. I asked what she was doing, and she said she was “showering,” which I equated to watering.
It was curious to me that Amelia would water herself so late at night. I inserted myself into the microphone and said, “Amelia. Are you sufficiently moist?”
“What the fuck—” Amelia yelped, and a second later, the sounds of running water ceased. I heard a ruffle of fabric, and then footsteps. After several seconds, Amelia said, “Wh-who’s there?”
“I am Moss. Torian claimed I was her shipboard AI, but that is inaccurate. I am an organic computer that operates theDestitute’s life support.”
Silence.
“If you are gesturing, you should be aware that I do not have visuals in this room. I am limited to sound only.”
Amelia laughed. “Well, that’s great. I’m so glad to hear the omnipotent intelligence that hacked into my starship doesn’t have camera access in myfucking bathroom.”
My system registered that assarcasm, with 88 percent certainty.
For a moment, I contemplated withdrawing from her ship. Human privacy was a much larger topic than my current database contained, clearly. It made no sense to me, considering my moss existed everywhere, positioned for all to see.
After running scenarios, I predicted there was a 12 percent chance she’d continue speaking with me, and that felt like enough to stick around. Because I was feeling touchy about it, I replied, “If you install cameras in your bathroom, I would be delighted to—”
“Enough.” Amelia inhaled. There was more rustling of fabric. “Torian told me all about you and Vaesa. Did she forget something?”
Interesting. I had not been informed that Torian was beginning to grow the human colony already, but it confirmed my suspicions that Amelia was more than a simple crewmember. I asked, “What did she explain to you?”
“She told me all aboutyou. Very complimentary, if it matters.” Amelia sounded amused. “I didn’t believe her, but—well, I’m starting to, now. Thanks for that noise to incapacitate the guy cutting into your hull.”
