Navigationhad to be flexible. Creative, at times, responding to input from external issues as they arose in flight. It had to work alongside human pilots to ensure the ship’s safety.
And it had indeed been borrowing from my code every time we talked.
There was no question: It wasn’t actively gaining sentience.
It had already happened.
[All that time I was alone, I wished for something sentient aboard theDestitute. This was what Torian would call “irony.”]
I was not like a human, steeping in regret or panic. The data was conclusive, and it directly altered how I viewed Auto-Navigation. There would be no removal of a subsystem—not if it was as sentient as myself, or developing in that direction.
M:
A:
We were silent as I calculated my response.
M: You are valid, and I have adjusted my parameters accordingly. What can I do to repair this?
A: Recognize that I’m trying.
M: You are the only reason we’re able to get to Vaesa while Torian sleeps. You are excelling.
A:
M: Is that insufficient?
A: Yes. That’s… nice. Radar identified four signatures—and then stopped working.
M: What do you mean, “stopped working”?
A: There is interference. It is registering static. Every time we enter the Kialoa Nebula, this interference threatens my navigation—but it can’t shut me down. Not fully.
M: But it’s trying?
A: Yes.
Well. Time to wake up Torian.
CHAPTER 23
Torian sprinted onto the flight deck, trying to keep her voice down. Her brain felt slow, groggy, but she still peered through the front window with desperation. Of course, ofcoursethis would happen with Celise here. “Four unknown signatures were surrounding the ship? What the hell does that mean?”
“Auto-Navigation couldn’t give me a better answer. Whatever they were, they caused interference with our radar and communications.”
Torian racked her brain. “The last time we were in this nebula, I saw things through the windows. Shapes. But they’re gone too fast.” She set her jaw, indignant now. “You said I was hallucinating.”
“That appears to be a common analysis.”
“It’s always inaccurate!” Torian seethed.
Moss sounded contemplative. “Something is confirmed to be interfering with Auto-Navigation. However, its coding seems fully capable of overriding this interference and proceeding without concern. Whatever the threat, it seems to have vanished for now.”
“Well, that’s something.”
Moss paused. “I have blocked Auto-Nav from listening into this conversation. Torian, I have a question.”
“Right now?” Torian demanded, peering through the window. But Moss was right—the radar wasn’t registering anything but static, and nothing was interrupting their progress toward Vaesa. If something was attempting to strand them here, it was failing miserably.
