Right up until Moss replied:
“No.”
IDENTITY: Mechanical Operations and Support Systems
→SUB-IDENTITY: Moss
TIME/DATE: 13:11/Januous 16, Year 90113 [System U2Ab Universal]
LOCATION: Near Vaesa [nylarian]
Auto-Navigation: You’re the chosen one!!
Moss: Don’t start.
Over the radio, I said, “I am not available for you to use whenever the timing is convenient. You lost that privilege one hundred thirty-three years ago.”
I recognized Torian’s body temperature rising, recognizedfrustrationandirritationin her body language. That made me feel bad, so I began enacting Dutch’s request. I still did not tell Dutch I was doing that.
[I wanted him to suffer for a few moments more.]
Dutch wasted no time protesting. “I gave you Peat! I’m putting your moss in Vaesa so you aren’t ever confined to the ship again. I enabled access to the engine and auto-nav, just like you asked. Please, Moss. What else do I need to do?”
“Moss,” Torian said, and my system identifieddesperationin her voice now. “We’re running out of time. If you can’t help him, helpme.”
The Moss-fixing human. On the surface, this was agreeable.
Deep underneath, it still caught in my central system, some final stubborn remnant of code. I would help Torian. I would also not forgive Dutch.
“Your words are insufficient.” My code readily supplied his old nickname: “Dog-turd fungus.”
“Moss,” Torian begged.
She was not aware that I was obliging Dutch’s request. Auto-Navigation happily handed me every radio interaction with thisspacefaring species, the altered keels. Deep in my archives, I found several excerpts of intelligent conversations between the keels and the nylarians, and used that original speech to translate their current language.
Privately, I sent Torian a message on theDestitute’s holoscreen:I am obliging your request. I will do this for you, not for him.
Torian read it, frowning. “Hang on, Dutch.” She clicked off the radio. Her eyes locked on the camera overhead, staring right into my central system. “Moss. Can we talk?”
“I am busy.”
[I did not want to talk.]
“Please.”
Fine. I had sufficient processing power. It was easy to leave my analysis running, translating letters, then words, of this radio language. “What is it? I cannot forgive him.”
Torian drew a slow breath. Her heart rate was elevated, and her hands shook. Her voice, however, was calm. “I know that sometimes, people don’t deserve forgiveness. Sometimes, they hurt us so much, we’re better off ignoring them for good.”
Yes. “Exactly. This is my choice. Other than fixing life support on Vaesa and providing you and Celise with a safe place to live, Dutch and I have nothing to discuss.”
That did not seem sufficient for Torian. She said, “I’ve worked with a lot of sketchy people. Some of them were truly bad. Some just did bad things, but weren’t bad people.”
“Dutch did a very bad thing.”
Torian was quiet for fourteen seconds. “It wasn’t good, no. But it’s usually best to judge someone off their current intentions, not their past mistakes.”
I processed that, running it through several analyzers.
