“We have no idea whether any planet we come to will be habitable,” I whisper. “Only a tiny percentage can support life.”
Kodiak pulls away. “What’s our other option? We just wait out our time, slowly completing our task list, hoping that OS magically decides not to kill us? That’s no way to live.”
“I don’t know,” I say quietly. “Some version of ourselves will make it wherever this ship is headed, if all goes well. That’s worth fighting for, isn’t it?”
“I can’t believe you’re not angrier,” Kodiak says. “Have you been brought up just to obey, obey, obey?”
My face flames. “No, of course not,” I say. “I was brought up to lead, and acceptance of adverse conditions is what leadership sometimes looks like. And I have to say this is rich, coming from the orphan raised to be a mechanical soldier.”
“A mechanical soldier for a country that probably doesn’t exist any longer,” Kodiak says, scuffing his foot against the floor. “Still better than a snobby little prince.”
I rub my hands over my face. Strange, but his insult actually makes me feel less angry. It’s as hard to be Kodiak as it is to be Ambrose. “Everyone we’ve ever known is no longer alive,” I whisper. “So where do we put that feeling?”
“Even more than that,” Kodiak says. “By now, everyone we’ve ever known is nothing more than a centimeter of sediment deep under Earth’s surface.”
“Andwedidn’t ever know those people we claim we knew, did we?” I ask. “Ambrose and Kodiak did. The real ones. We just have their neural pathways.”
Kodiak’s eyes search mine. “We’ve only ever known each other. My fellow cadets, your mother and sister, all of it, just false memories of long-dead people.”
“If you’re not careful, I’m going to have to lie down again,” I say.
Kodiak grins. “I don’t know if that’s so bad. I certainly did enjoy lying down last time.”
_-* Tasks Remaining: 80 *-_
We haven’t left theAurorain days. While I’ve been programming the replacement OS, Kodiak’s been up by the sealed orange portal, using the portaprinter to erect a second barrier. It’s a wise move, but as I hear the repetitive buzz of the printer in the background of my programming, as I smell the tang of burning polycarb, I can’t help but despair at the thought that we’re building trenches. That we’re preparing for a war that squishy human bodies cannot win.
“I think we’re all set, Kodiak,” I call out one morning. He’s finished making the broad polycarb lip and is working on removing more of Rover’s tracks from the walls. OS Prime is as ready as it will ever be to take over navigation. Though an AI is impressive at predicting outcomes—especially outcomes from interfacing with another computer intelligence—so far this has been only an abstract thought experiment. There’s no way to predict what will happen when OS Prime goes online.
The portaprinter hisses to a stop.
Kodiak and I gather wordlessly at the orange portal. I’ve long since snipped the local wiring so that it opens manually, part of my dismantling OS’s control of theAurora. But accessing central navigation will still require a return to theghost town of my old quarters.
Kodiak and I are equipped with the closest we’ve found to weapons. He’s got an engineer’s wrench in either hand, and I have a defib paddle, its power line running to a battery strapped on my back. I’d have liked to have had access to the room containing our arrival supplies, but the gray portal’s been unbreachable.
“You ready?” I ask Kodiak. He nods.
We fall into fighting positions, wrenches and defib paddle out and ready to strike.
We tug up the orange portal.
The passageway is empty. No Rover.
“OS, are you there?” I call.
No answer.
Weapons outstretched, we creep into the hallway, lift ourselves up into zero g and back into theEndeavor. As we ease our way deeper into the ship, breathing heavily, we pause every few feet to listen. There’s the drip of urine processing, the dull roar of space, a thousand small clicks, a thousand small whirs. But no Rover sounds. I signal to Kodiak that we should continue.
A few more paces until we’re at the yellow door. The wall surrounding it has been replaced, the new polycarb shining. “Up and in!” Kodiak says, one foot already on the tabletop.
“OS, grant us permission to enter the uninhabited areas,” I call.
The hum of the ship is the only response.
“I’m not wasting any more time,” Kodiak says. With that, he smashes a wrench through the wall surrounding the yellow portal. He whisks the wrench around the edge, polycarb shards raining, and then lifts himself up and in. I see triceps, waist, legs, then he’s gone.
All right, Ambrose, you’re next,I tell myself, leaping into zero g so I can follow. Kodiak’s hand emerges from the opening, outstretched. I reach for it.
