Vows were intended to free up faculties for practice and service, but Iris’s had failed to do either. He didn’t dare look Yan in the eyes, not yet, maybe not ever again. “I’m sorry,” Iris said. “I’m sorry you lost your family. I’m sorry that your pain wasn’t witnessed and ever tended to. You deserve so much more.” He put his hands around Yan’s shoulders and slowly pulled him close. Yan went willingly. “I’m sorry I failed to be a person to you. I’ve beenthisfor so long, this thing with only a single responsibility, I—I …”
Without noticing it, Iris raked his fingers on the engineer’s shirt along his back. He had stopped breathing some time ago, probably when Yan’s forehead had found its resting place against his bad clavicle. Unknowingly, Iris pulled Yan closer, until their temples were pressed against one another. A warm wave spread throughout his body, and for the briefest moment,it silenced the ever-present want. For only a second, Iris yearned for nothing at all.
“So, you’re a real person after all, Vessel,” Yan whispered, and Iris found he could breathe again. Relaxing his fingers, Iris softly pushed himself away, but Yan tightened his arms around him. “Please, not yet.” The engineer’s body was hot and solid against his, like the clay floors below his feet at temple, awash with the rays of the setting suns. Iris marvelled at how easy Yan was to hold, how the weight of him was effortless to bear, how they fit against one another like two pieces of the same shattered pot. In that moment, Iris made a different vow, a silent promise to Yan that he would keep him safe, keep anything that Yan held dear safe, at any cost. It was a dangerous promise to make, but for the first time since he had become a Vessel, Iris began to understand what it meant to serve.
When Yan did let go, he sat back and absentmindedly wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry, Vessel. I know this was awkward for you. Don’t worry. I appreciate it more than you understand.”
Iris understood. His heart still ached from the closeness. “I wish I could do more for you, Yan.”
Yan gave him a sad smile. “That’s the first time you haven’t addedengineerbefore my name.”
Iris mirrored the smile. He would gladly be struck over and over, only to hear Yan say his name again. He took Yan’s hand into his again and bowed deeply, until his forehead brushed Yan’s fingertips. Iris would never willingly unearth the thoughts he kept most protected, even from VIFAI. Those would always stay buried, for everyone’s safety. For now, this would be enough. To feel the beating of Yan’s heart against his own would be enough. To feel the brush of Yan’s fingertips against his browwould be enough. It was more than Iris would ever ask for. It was far more than he deserved.
Yan insisted Iris rest a little longer before they started their trek back. He didn’t want to have to carry him, he explained with thinly veiled concern, and in Iris’s current state, he looked like he was going tocroak in a kilometre, tops. The engineer did his best to sound annoyed but kept glancing over to where Iris lay every minute, and so eventually both Vessel and blanket were moved closer to the fire, and Yan didn’t have to crane his neck.
Resting, as he had been instructed to do, Iris lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. This section of the corridors was especially dark, and the vine-draped walls eventually bled into black. Everything eventually gave in to the darkness, save for the small aura of orange glow from the fire. “I don’t hate you, you know,” Iris said towards the ceiling, half hoping that Yan wouldn’t hear him.
“How do you mean?”
“You volunteered to bandage me up because you didn’t care if I would be furious with you, because you believed I hated you. I don’t hate you. I don’t hateanyone.” Iris forced himself to continue. “I thought you hatedme, but I admit I was wrong there.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet,” Yan muttered, and immediately broke into a soft laugh. Iris joined him. It was easier to breathe now, like when he had ventured into the mountains for the first time where even the midday heat never reached. Like when he had returned from his first assignment as a Vessel and curled into a ball on his mat, the floor hard and familiar, digging into his shoulder just the way he liked, and fell into a deep sleep. Even the aches and pains along his body were muted now, and he could momentarily cast them aside.
But this feeling of lightness, the timid excitement, were both dangerous. VIFAI was still there, silent, but ever watching, sensing Iris’s thoughts and passions. This wasn’t the time for such discussions, nor the time to entertain any longings, especially with the construct chiming in at any opportunity. Turning his head over, Iris noticed his duffel bag, sitting within reach.
“You brought my things.”
“Figured you’d want to clean up.” Yan nodded over. “I can help, if you’d like. You look awful. No offense.”
Still looking over at his duffel bag, Iris allowed himself a wistful smile. “Thank you.” A gentle silence found its way between the words, and like a salve, it filled every crevice, every wound, and every moment between the crackling of the fire. Unable to fight the iron in his eyelids, Iris rolled onto his left side and closed his eyes. Through the blanket, the pulse of the ship, steady and rhythmic, like a monstrous heartbeat, lulled him to sleep. TheNicaearelaxed around him as well. “I think the ship is alive,” he said through a yawn.
Yan didn’t reply. Looking out into the fire, he mechanically reached into the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a cigarette. With an outstretched hand, he lit it with the flames.
“I think the ship is alive,” Iris said louder, forcing his eyes open. There was no more avoiding his conclusions. It was now or never. “I don’t think we’re being hunted bypeople.”
Yan took a deep drag of his cigarette and passed it over without looking. He had apparently not noticed that Iris had pulled himself from the brink of oblivion to have this very uncomfortable conversation. “We’ve been over this already. There is no way this ship had an AI system on it when it left First Earth.”
But that’s not what Iris meant, not exactly. Taking the cigarette from Yan’s fingers, Iris studied the tip of it for a moment, the red glow reflecting in his eyes, before he broughtit to his lips and took a long drag. It was impossible not to dwell on the fact that his lips were touching the spot where Yan’s lips had been only a moment earlier. With a drawn-out exhale, Iris ashed the cigarette in the fold of his robes, careful to not spill anything onto the moss. The nicotine did the bare minimum to wake him up, but he was nonetheless grateful. “I agree. It never had an AI system when it left, but it’s been in flight for over a thousand years.” He yawned and squeezed his eyes shut as the world began its familiar nicotine-induced spin. “Things happen.”
“Still not enough. We need tocreateAI systems, and even when we do, the amount of data it needs to run through in the initial stages to learn is—” Yan whistled his meaning. “It’s a mountain and a half. It takes a few weeks even with the power we have now.”
“Over a thousand years in flight,” Iris pointed out. A ribbon of smoke floated from the red, glowing tip of his cigarette. “Nothing but boundless micrometeorite data and human biometrics to learn from.”
Evolution and learning in a closed space. It bothered Iris, a hangnail in his mind. Plants, like he had never seen before, and strange pulses, always appearing together. Both acting in ways too intelligent for plants. Something was guiding them in their attacks, something powerful enough and tenacious enough to try and hack VIFAI, to shut off airlocks and doorways—to hunt.
“You’re quick, but I think you’re out of your depth here, Vessel.”
“Over athousandyears, Yan.”
There was now a space before Yan’s name that Iris’s mind was feverishly trying to fill with another word, aspecificword, but surely that task could wait until they were off theNicaea.Ifthey made it off theNicaea.
He passed the cigarette back but held it just out of Yan’s reach, a lure. “In theory,in theory, would this be possible? If by some chance someone fed this ship all the data it wanted, even if it were biometric data, could it possibly develop an AI system all on its own?” Yan shrugged, and Iris pulled the cigarette out of his reach completely. “Could it, in your professional opinion?” he pressed.
“If I say yes, they’ll take my tenure away,” Yan whined.
“But if you say yes, and you turn out to be right, it will be such a discovery that you will be forever immortalised in academic scholarship.” Iris giggled. “Forgive me, I’m not certain how all of this works professionally for you, but I am certain it will be a big deal, and you will benefit greatly from it being true.”
“The chances are astronomically miniscule.” Yan gave up on retrieving his cigarette and pulled another one out. Lighting it against the fire, he chewed at his lip as he watched the smoke rise into the void. “They’re not zero. Intheory, yes, it could develop all on its own. I can’t believe I’m saying this. If anyone in my department heard me say this, I would be the laughingstock of the institute.” He sighed. “Yes,yes, fine, you win, Vessel. It is possible. The ship would have needed a smart system to start, and massive storage, andmassiveprocessing power, and so many other things, but yes, it is possible. I think. You, however, have no proof that it happened here.”
