Hard Crash - Christie Golden [24]
Friend had been lost in his own pain, but now 110 felt the Starsearcher's attention focus fully on the dying Jaldark's words. 110 wanted to linger in his own bittersweet misery, but was pulled along with Friend. He, too, really began to listen.
I can't kill Friend, I just can't. That would be the most selfish act I think I could possibly perform. I know I'm supposed to, but I won't do it. I won't. I've deactivated the autodestruct mechanism. Friend won't be able to reengage it on his own. He's going to live, even if...even if I don't. That's what friends do, isn't it? They help each other. If anybody finds this, please take care of Friend. Send him home. The coordinates are in the computer. Help him find a new pilot. He's going to be so lost without...me to take care...Tell him I'm sorry. Tell him I love him. Tell him it will be all right. He's just got to be brave.
Friend's shock now felt as strong as his suffering. That is against all the rules. Jaldark was the reason I was unable to self-destruct? She did it deliberately? Why, why? We were supposed to die together!
110's narrow chest hitched. So were Bynars. Linked unto death, it was not at all uncommon, nor frowned upon, for a remaining Bynar to die upon losing a partner. Sometimes, more often than not, such a death was chosen, self-inflicted. It was the only way in 110's culture to avoid being forced to take another mate. It was the only way to remain Bynar.
But 110 did not want to take another mate. For a while, he thought, as Friend had, that he wanted to die. For what was life without 111, without the friend and mate and ultimate companion, who lived in his affections and mind and soul? But there had been no chance for suicide, and to 110's own astonishment, his body refused to simply quit on its own. There had been the computer to help, and the Pevvni to fight, and then Friend's plight to attend to.
While 110 was sorting through this, Jaldark quietly died on the screen. He expected the ship to lose control utterly, and braced himself for the throes that would surely come.
Instead, Friend remained strangely still. 110 realized that the ship was focusing on him and his thoughts.
You did not die.
No, 110 "replied." I kept living. I kept working.
For what reason? Your loss was as great as mine. Why did you live?
For a long moment, 110 could not form an answer for that because he truly did not know. Finally, the answer came, and with it a sudden easing of the pain that had been his constant companion since that terrible moment.
Because 111 wished me to continue.
As Jaldark wished me to continue, thought Friend. 110 felt the ship's own pain subsiding ever so slightly. But why? Starsearchers cannot function on their own. We need a pilot. We could be dangerous. I was dangerous. I destroyed buildings and fired upon your ship. I could have killed you. I was not constructed to attack, only to defend.
Physical pain began to penetrate 110's consciousness, distracting him from the thoughts he was only now beginning to process. The implants. Dr. Lense had warned him about this. Because he was a Bynar, a member of a race which already had a great deal of integration with computers, he could tolerate the implants to a certain degree. A normal human could not. But he was not Omearan, and the implants had not been part of his body since infancy, and it was starting to reject them. Once the pain began to increase, Lense had said, he only had a matter of moments before he would go into shock.
Faced with dying like the unfortunate Jaldark, in the same position, 110 realized that he very much wanted to live.
I can help you sent Friend with a sudden sense of urgency. I can enable you to make the transition. You could help me by becoming my new pilot. You understand. And...I could help you, too, because I understand.
The pain in his head