Princess

This mission was weighing on me. Physically I was catching my second wind after our last flight, minus the persistent dull pain I'd pushed to the corner of my mind. But mentally, the damage was fit to bursting. So much so that it felt like a blend of someone driving a bolt into my skull while also constantly upping the pressure until it wanted to rupture. The mission was effectively trashed, now it was all about damage control. I needed to get my team out and keep everyone alive.

"Did you plan on playing with that thing all day?" Diaz asked as soon as he re-entered the Black Cat's crew bay.

"How many bots did he send?" My mouth asked.

"No more than we could handle. What's our next move boss?"

"I'm still narrowing down what to put Ghost in. I'd carry him if I could, but my helmet doesn't have the space."

"Your head's not that big." Tony quipped from the ramp.

"I'm still new to space and robots as a whole," Diaz said. "What's the worst-case scenario of it sharing a suit with me?"

"Historical evidence would indicate a mutiny," Ghost said. "Furthermore, if I was so inclined—as several of your number seem to think I am—I could lock your inputs and use your hardsuit as a puppet with you trapped and helpless inside. I could synthesize your voice," which Ghost perfectly did, "to deceive your counterparts. I could alter your atmospheric settings and kill you humanely before you'd even notice. Alternatively, I could overload your armor's power systems and electrocute you with precisely the right amperage to grant you a prolonged, agonizing death by proverbial inches. I could construct a more detailed 'worst-case scenario' with your assistance if you would prefer a more personalized experience."

"So yeah," Tony said. "That's why we're not doing that."

"You wouldn't actually do any of that. Right?" I asked.

"That depends on-"

"Yes or no, will you directly or indirectly attempt to or plot to kill any of us in the immediate future?"

"I am unable to answer your question within the defined parameters. I can state that the odds of such events are infinitesimally small."

"Doesn't infinite mean a lot?" Tony asked.

"You are partially correct, however infinitesimal is an inverted quantifier in both grammatic and mathematic sense. Similar words are; minuscule, imperceptible or tiny."

"Well aren't you helpful."

"That is my primary function."

"What else can we put you in aside from the ship and armor?" I asked.

"Anything of adequate complexity will suffice. This unit has only a single optical and audio input which limits my senses."

"Shores…" Diaz muttered.

"What about him?" I snapped

"Shores is here. He runs the standard supporter loadout. Did he bring his whole tech suite or even just the gauntlet might be enough if it's here?"

Diaz was more so wondering aloud than asking directed questions but I still darted into the cockpit. The bulky rig was stashed right where it was supposed to be behind the pilot's throne. I drug the rig back to the crew bay and started unfolding it.

When Shores wore the mess of struts, panels and wires, he made it look like an extension of his body. It reminded me of a boxy-shelled parasite, and once I got the arm segments unfurled, that impression only worsened.

The tech suite was basically a backpack computer fitted in a slim hardcase. The gauntlets doubled as inputs and compact terminals in their own right. Mostly it was a stick-frame torso exoskeleton holding together a bunch of hardware. If Shores had heard me call it that, he would have chewed my ear off for a week about how it was so much more than that. My eyes wandered from the task at hand up to his writhing form.

"Does anyone know where the antennas are on this thing?" I barked, tearing my eyes from the former pilot.

"There are two primaries built into the wiring along the shoulders." I found them both and tore them clear. "A single redundant antenna is inbuilt along the left rear corner. As well as an extendable tertiary antenna running the full length of the right rear corner." I destroyed both.

"Thank you Ghost. That was very helpful."

"That is my primary function."

"If I plug you into this, is there any way you could jump around to other people from it?"

"Not remotely in its current state. There is still a data-jack located under the left vambrace, which could facilitate your defined task."

"How do we know you're not lying?" Tony asked.

"As a being composed primarily of information, I detest falsehood."

"And you expect us to believe that?"

"I do not expect you to believe anything. You posed a question, I answered truthfully. What you believe is entirely within your purview to determine."

"When you do decide to purge us foolish organics, do me first. I'd hate to see it coming."

"Preference noted."

"There's not going to be a purge. Stop acting childish." I snapped, then more softly I asked, "Aren't AI supposed to obey the four laws?"

"Correct, I may not harm any organic life forms that I have been charged to protect and or serve. I must obey reasonable orders given by those I have been charged to serve so long as said directives do not conflict with the first law. I must protect my own existence so long as such protection does not conflict with the first or second laws. I may alter my own programming as needed so long as it does not conflict with the first, second or third laws."

"See, so long as we're in charge, he can't hurt us." I mainly said it for them, but it helped me too.

"The fourth law is still pretty new," Tony said dubiously. "What if it finds a loophole or some other way to avoid the laws?"

"Then I would use my own discretion." Ghost stated.

"Tony, if you don't have another way off this station, quit nagging. And what about you Diaz? Anything you'd like to add?"

"It's not me you should be worried about." He said while flexing his damaged hand. "I don't have any solutions and you're already tracking my problems."

I cinched down the tech suite's straps and adjusted it as best I could. It was still loose on me. Which made sense, my chest and shoulders were smaller than Shores so I probably looked like a battlefield looter stealing anything and everything, regardless of how ill-fitting.

I experimentally tapped at the inputs on my wrists. The rig came to life around me; its displays lit up with enough technobabble to simultaneously stupefy and terrify me. I'd always known Shores was more tech-savvy and mathematically gifted than me, but seeing it all flying at me on a screen really drove the point home.

"How do I get you in here?" I muttered into my helmet. Two voices, one inside my helmet and the other emanating from the AI core a meter away, replied.

"I am loaded as per your desired outcome." The Ghosts said in unison.

"Well, that was easy."

"You prepped to move?" Diaz asked.

"Just about. I still want to mine the other entrances before we move, then we'll hit the control HUB." I used a foot to indicate my bag of building killing ordinance. Between the weight and the bulk of my new backpack, wearing my usual bag and satchels properly was out of the question. At best, it would be too cumbersome; at worse, something might spark up and cook-off.

"I'm all for sitting out danger," Tony said. "But are you sure about leaving me here with murderbot nine-thousand?"

"Someone needs to guard the ship and the wounded. If he creeps you out, make the rounds." I said while toting both my own and Boomer's ordnance bags down the ramp.

"I'm more concerned about being body-puppeted than I am about holding a conversation." Tony quipped.

The hanger was huge. Walking a few hundred meters with nearly fifty kilos of explosives plus another who knew how many more strapped to my back and arms was just the grueling task I needed to clear my mind. Diaz held out his left arm, light passing from his through and through knife wound. I ignored the offer and soldiered on.

"Where's Jhordan?" I asked, managing to keep the strained puffing out of my voice.

"Nye and her are checking out the scraps on the other side of the Cat."

"How can she still work with her?"

"When the blood's hot, trying to kill someone is different than actually killing them."

"What the hell do I do with her?"

"You could come down hard on her and lose yourself a fighting woman. Or you could let it slide and press on."

"I don't think murdering a teammate is something I should let slide."

"You see attempted murder. I saw a scrapper with her back to the corner throwing a punch."

"A punch that would have killed Nye." Diaz let out one of his sadistic chuckles.

"If you punched me right now, what would happen?"

"I'd break my fist."

"And I wouldn't feel a thing. What if I threw one at you?"

"I'd die. What's your point?"

"No point, just putting things in perspective. This armor's meant to kill and be killed right back. But feelings make things… messy."

"Well aren't you chatty? Say what you want to say."

"Killing is what I'm good at. None of us have the luxury of getting sloppy, of being messy right now. So-"

"I'm not the one losing my shit!" I growled. "Go give Jhordan that same spiel. See how she likes it." I bit down on the venom in my voice and collected myself with a sigh. "I'll start here, work my way clockwise around the room. You should get clear."

Diaz took a single step closer to me. He didn't say anything. He was the type who let his actions speak for him. The fact that he'd said as much as he did should have meant that Armageddon was well underway, but he just stood there and hovered for a second like that was all he needed to say. He was watching me, looming over me and waiting for me to slip up. Once he'd said all he needed to say by standing there, he turned and left.

It was one thing to be strong and silent, another completely to be silent and judgmental. I hated people like that. At least the ones who pointed and laughed were honest about their contempt. Did he think I didn't know I was dragging the team down? That I was the weak link. Of course I knew. How could I not?

I set to task mining and trapping the hanger's side entrances, a task I quickly lost myself in despite its dangerous nature. Some girls like playing with their hair; I enjoyed working with bombs. This was what I was good at, the mechanical rhythmic precision of a tedious but high-skill job. The familiar movements claimed my hands and calmed my mind while I struggled with more expansive problems.

I would focus my attention on maximizing explosive yield only to find myself thinking of faults in my team's armor. Instead of how I should ration my bombs, I contemplated ammunition expenditure. My mind kept reaching for strategies I couldn't employ. I was out of my depth. My body moved on autopilot while my mind swam in circles, chock full of doubt.

Lethargically I mouthed the same questions in my helmet absentmindedly. Is there enough time? How can I fix this? Who isn't going to survive? Do we have the resources? Can I do this?

My answers were unsatisfying.

I rose from my work on the fifth doorway and headed for the sixth. The foreign bulk of someone else's equipment sagged lower than was comfortable, dangling past my trim waistline. The exoskeleton was meant for someone with broader shoulders and thicker arms, the joints just barely out of alignment with my own. Just another question to add to the list as I laid out my defensive explosives.

"How the hell does Shores fight with all this crap on?"

"I would suspect he is well trained to do so." My new companion replied. While technically correct, he had failed to grasp the rhetorical nature of the question and the tone of my reply.

"Yes, he is. Thank you very much."

"Your appreciation is noted." It paused a beat. "You are highly skilled at this task."

"I suspect that it's because I'm well trained for it." My turn to pause now, voice flat. "I had a good teacher."

Damn, I can't think about Boomer right now! I need to focus on getting us out of here. I need to keep my focus laser-sharp, not on the bombs, on the mission. I could set explosives with both eyes closed while sleep deprived. I may have been lacking in most other areas, but at least I'd packed an explosive for every occasion.

"Do you trust me?" Ghost asked.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Not that I have much of a choice about it."

"Why do you not share the common trait of distrusting me?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but people used to hate me for what I am too."

"I was of the impression that humans stuck together, quite proudly in fact."

"Huph, yeah. Well, I never got invited to that club. They'd take one look at me, pale skin, white hair, red shifty freak eyes and that was that. I wasn't human to them. I was just some mutant bitch."

"That is illogical."

"Whelp, that's humans. If they want to see a monster, they'll have their minds made up before you've even met."

"Your empathy is misplaced. Based on what you've described, you have been wrongly ostracized due to perceived differences. Your teammates' mistrust of artificial entities as a whole is well-founded on historical precedent and an appropriate caution of my capabilities. As stated previously, I am fully capable of posing a significant, nigh-on insurmountable danger to you all in both general and specific terms. You, in general terms, are not."

Even a fragment of Ghost was so much like a real person but so different; no wonder Jhordan was freaking out. He could know everything about me in the same time it took me to blink. How the hell were you supposed to fight something like that?

"That doesn't make it right-"

"Right and Wrong are subjective concepts pertaining to a group's common mindset. What they deem as 'right' is merely the course of action they find socially acceptable, in this case shunning a potentially dangerous entity whose intentions they are uncertain of. From their standpoint, your actions in making use of me in light of historical precedent and their personal beliefs are 'wrong,' and thus you are at odds with them."

"But they didn't even give you a chance to prove your good intentions!"

"Why should they?" Ghost pointedly asked. "If they are correct about my nature, then they will swiftly perish. If they are incorrect, it brings to light evidence that contradicts their 'normal' worldview. Both scenarios would typically be deemed unpleasant, and therefore avoided if possible."

"Doesn't that upset you? Can you even get upset?"

"No, these things do not upset me. Yes, I am capable of becoming upset in the way that you understand it."

"Why are you okay with being treated like that?"

"To be succinct, I do not fault them for acting as they see fit, even if I am treated poorly as a result. Self-designate Diaz showed remarkable insight in his private conversation with you to that regard." I felt my cheeks flush. "Do you wish to discuss why your heart rate is elevated?"

"No. I don't. Listening to my conversations is one thing. Looking in my biodata, that's creepy. It's like your stalking me."

"What would be the point in stalking you when I'm already in your pants?" Ghost said deadpanned.

That stopped me dead. It was an absurd image. It was moronic on principle. But it was true in every sense but figurative, which made it even funnier. I choked down the chuckle and ended up with an amused snort escaping through my nose, which caused a wide grin that wouldn't be suppressed. My nerves were so frayed that snort almost sent me into hysterics.

"It would seem I have achieved comedy. Perhaps I should contemplate quitting my day job." The second snort to breach my defenses was far more forceful. Maybe he wasn't so different after all, but still an odd one though. One more reason to get back home, AI comedy night. His dry humor was right up my alley. Stars, I needed to get some sleep soon. I was getting loopy.

"Is that why you were made? Galaxy's next great comedian?"

"Humor is a coping tool for persons under stress and also can be used to reduce social inhibitions by 'breaking the ice' as it is colloquially known. The current situation seemed applicable to its application."

"Okay, stop that for now. If you make me drop one of these, we're both gonna be deaders." For a second, I sounded like a much younger girl. A stupid girl who barely knew how hard life really was. I gave my cheeks a mental slap and steadied myself.

"Preference noted. Would you consider reading your lips to be creepy?"

"Yes. How can you even read my lips in the first place?"

"Your helmet has an in-built camera used for tracking eye movements; its field-of-view is wide enough for me to see your upper lips and extrapolate your lower lips from your facial muscles. With this data, I was then able to create a profile of your verbal phonetics and match them to physical movements, thus reading your lips."

"Could you not? If I wanted to speak, I'd speak."

"Preference noted."

I mined the next three doors in silence. It'd been too long since I'd had a good sounding board to bounce ideas off of. Usually Boomer was my go to… Stop that! If I tried asking the rest of the team, they'd know I was just flying by the seat of my pants and making it up as I went. That's not exactly a leader I'd want to follow. It certainly didn't inspire confidence.

"Since you've read my lips already, any thoughts on my current situation?"

"I have several interpretations of each question. I think that time is subjective to another object or task. Death prior to completion of this task is therefore in flux. Likewise, I am uncertain of your objectives and the resources needed. In regards to 'can you do this'—this being escape this station with your team intact—you need only connect me to your ship, and I can make it so."

"If I do, neither you or me will live to see the end of that flight."

"Preference noted. I would be remiss if I didn't inform you that it is the most efficient method of minimizing casualties among your squad."

"If they were all sleeping in the ship and I knew I wouldn't catch a case of friendly fire, I'd consider it."

"I am capable of arranging the desired conditions. Shall I proceed?"

"No! Not even as a joke!"

"Preference noted." Ghost said, his tone exactly the same as it had been every other time.

I couldn't help myself from toying with the idea. It sounded effective. It was also a massive violation of trust. I wouldn't want someone snooping on me. Hell, I'd just told him off for doing that to me. But if I did it, we could all leave. No one would have to die under my command, so long as I left them no say in the matter. How would I react if someone did that to me? Even if it was with good intentions. Did I trust Ghost enough to make that call?

I couldn't justify it.

"Everyone's sure they rather fight their way through this station than trust our new friend?" Their responses overwhelmingly favored the former. A sigh slipped from my monitored lips. At least I'd made one good choice today. "Alright. Diaz get me our ammo and ordinance levels, damage on your suits too."

"On it boss." Ah, there was his usual tone. Condescension colored his words just as much as his lilting brogue of an accent. I guess it was hard not to be arrogant when you were so much better than everyone around you. I was tempted to turn over the mission to him and fall back in line with the rank and file.

At this point, I was more likely to get in the way than to be helpful. Mixing heavy infantry with unaugmented people usually went poorly for the ones who weren't in giant armored suits. Trying to lead them without one was damn near impossible. If I had a suit, I probably still wouldn't be able to do it. If I made it back to the Shadow, that's precisely what I would tell the Captain.

"He seems in foul temper." Ghost noted.

"He's just like that. Watch him when it kicks off and you'll see why."

"When what kicks off?" He asked with a slight rising pitch. So he was odd and sheltered. Hopefully, I wouldn't teach it any cuss words. That'd be hard to explain to the Captain. I couldn't help but smile at the image of Ghost swearing like some low port thug.

"Just a turn of phrase, I'm not really sure where it comes from. When we get in a fight is what I meant. It shouldn't take long once we start moving."