Synthesis - James Swallow [50]
“They recycle their dead,” Dennisar said in a low voice.
“It is required,” answered One-Five. “A preservation of resources.”
Riker nodded, thinking it through. If the AIs didn’t have matter transporters, then it stood to reason that they might not possess related technologies, such as replicators or holodecks. A resource-poor society would explain why the outer worlds of the star system showed such evidence of heavy mining. He filed these thoughts away for later discussion, postmission.
“It is well that I have returned,” White-Blue buzzed. “I possess vital data that must be uploaded to the communal information pool.”
Black-Silver made a derisive clicking sound. “We have reviewed your alarmist theories in the past. They were rejected.”
“I have updated my research.”
“A matter for later consideration,” One-Five insisted firmly. “In the meantime, Cyan-Gray has elected to provide source elements to White-Blue for the construction of a droneframe. I have agreed to fabricate it.”
“Interrogative: In return for what?” Red-Gold asked.
“I request no recompense,” said Cyan-Gray. “I… am responsible.”
“Stand to, organics,” said One-Five. Riker threw his people a nod, and they backed away from White-Blue. One of the thicker wall supports rotated on its axis and opened; two smaller drones, multilegged things like crabs, skittered forward and gathered up the nexus core. They carried the AI’s pod away, off toward one of the towers.
With their “guest” gone, the captain sensed the tension in his team tighten a notch or three. From the corner of his eye, he saw Keru’s hand drop to be closer to the hilt of his phaser.
If the AIs noticed, they gave no indication of it. “The questions, then,” repeated Zero-Nine.
“I will begin,” said the ovoid. “I am FirstGen Three-Four, active remote. Interrogative: What are you? What is your origin? Answer.”
Riker let his wife take the first steps; she was a lot better at this kind of stuff than he was. He always felt as if he was overthinking, but Deanna made it seem effortless.
“We are explorers, from an alliance of worlds many hundreds of light-years distant from this region. We come with peaceful intent, to learn more about our universe and make contact with other beings.”
“Interrogative: If your intent is peaceful, then why does your ship possess such formidable weapons?” Two-Seven turned an eye lens at them. “I observed Cyan-Gray’s engagement report. Your craft is a warship, not an explorer.”
“We carry weapons, that’s true,” Riker said with a nod. “But only for defense. Only as a last resort.”
Three-Four spoke again. “Interrogative: Why did you enter our space?”
“Because of me,” said Melora. “I detected the energy signature of your star system from our vessel. I saw the possibility of sentient life… I was curious.”
“We all were,” added Riker.
Red-Gold moved forward, and the motion seemed almost aggressive. “Interrogative: Was it your curiosity that compelled you to interfere with the life function of a Sentry? Or was it a more destructive intention?”
“We did not understand what White-Blue was at first,” Deanna admitted. “In our society, self-aware machines like you are a rarity.”
“You interfered with something you did not fully comprehend.” Black-Silver’s words were a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” said Riker, drawing himself up. “But only because we believed we were doing the right thing. Your fellow Sentry could have been lost forever out there. Our ship scanned the damage to his vessel. We boarded it because we hoped we could find out what happened and search for any survivors in need of help. I guess we found one.”
“You had no right to recover the core pod,” Red-Gold insisted. “The subsequent damage inflicted upon the Titan is a direct result of your interference in Sentry affairs. The responsibility for that is yours.”
“Wait—” began Cyan-Gray, but Red-Gold continued to speak.
“You are intruders. You should leave our space and not return.”
Riker folded his arms. “Maybe we should. But before