:Battery level sufficient for all purposes—
“Give a percentage,” Canyon snapped.
Predator did not respond.
“Maybe this little father-son spat could wait until we have our feet on the ground,” Timber said lightly. “Got any ideas?”
“AskWulf,” Canyon snarled, suddenly suspecting his brother. He couldn’t fathom how Timber could have made Predatordisofuckingbedient,but he was the only one who had the access and the know-how.
Predator spoke.
:Tunnel goes on for another 20 feet—
:62-foot drop to the ground—
:Ground surface is rocks and dirt—
:96.9% chance of survival for Timber for the drop—
:97.8% chance of survival for Canyon for the drop—
“62-foot drop!” Timber shouted. “You expect me to survive a 62-foot drop?”
:All KSRTwolvenare trained in the art of injury acceptance and speed shifting—
“Shit,” Timber grumbled. “Easy for the robot to say.”
Canyon blinked water out of his eyes, shaking his head slowly. This didn’t make any sense. The trike was equipped with a laser to measure distance, but Predator wasn’t programmed to provide chances of survival. What was it basing the percentages on?
“I’ve got rappel gear,” Canyon said quietly, still musing. “Nobody’s gotta break their legs.”
“Fuckin’ hero.”
“Not like Reynard.”
“Never like Reynard,” Timber agreed.
:Never like Reynard—Predator intoned at the same time as Timber.
Canyon gaped at Predator.
I fucking knew it!he shouted at his brother inruhi.
“Knew what?”
Knew you fucked with Predator. You better be able to undo whatever the fuck you did.
“What are you talking about?”
Canyon was pissed. “What are you talking about, what am I talking about?” he shouted out loud, which made him slide three or four inches. He dug in and kept shouting. “Demanding to be called Wulf! Won’t do anything I say! You fucked with my program!”
“Yo, little bro. Take a deep breath or something. I’m fucking flattered you think my coding skills are that good, but I’m telling you, I didn’t do it.”
Canyon didn’t say anything. He ran through code in his mind, trying to think of something that would make Predator act like it was acting but he couldn’t think of anything—and Timberwaslousy at coding.
Still fuming, Canyon maneuvered himself until he could get one hand into his pack. He fished for ropes, D-rings, carabiners, and pitons. He passed rope to his brother, and they fastened harnesses for themselves, speaking little, then they hammered their pitons and set their ropes. Within a few moments, they were ready.
“Me first,” Timber said.
