Synthesis - James Swallow [51]
“That is not your concern,” said Zero-Nine.
“If there’s a threat out there, something blasting apart starships, then we need to know about it,” insisted Keru. “We might even be able to help you deal with it.”
“And there’s the spatial-distortion effects,” added Melora. She looked at Cyan-Gray’s remote. “We know you’re aware of those.”
“Repeating,” Zero-Nine grated, “that is not your concern.”
The captain studied the disparate group of machines, trying to get a feel for them. He’d half-expected to meet a series of identical, coldly logical devices or perhaps some form of hive consciousness; instead, these AIs reminded him of flesh-and-blood intellects from all over the galaxy. In their own way, they were emotive, fractious, and contrary among themselves, just like every other intelligent being he had ever come across. In a strange way, he was heartened by the thought.
“What about the Null? Should we be concerned about that?” The question hung in the air, and silence followed it. Riker heard Melora’s tricorder ping once more as the AIs networked silently. That got a reaction.
After a moment, Zero-Nine began to speak again. “Repeating—”
Riker held up a hand to silence the drone. “Yes, I think we get the idea.”
“If you’re not interested in a formal first contact with the Federation, we will abide by your wishes,” said Deanna. “Allow us to repair our vessel, and we’ll go on our way. We will respect your privacy, if that is what you want.”
“There is the issue of responsibility,” said Cyan-Gray insistently. “The damage done must be amended.”
“We can handle that on our own,” said Keru. “Thanks anyway.”
“Negative,” rumbled One-Five. “Inefficient. We will assist.”
“These wetminds do not want our help!” Red-Gold faced the screen panels. “We should withdraw it. Titan is in dock at this moment, under reconstruction, using resources from our general pool. There is no value in this for the Sentries. I submit that the organics should be disengaged and escorted beyond the rim. Their presence is an unnecessary distraction.”
“We cannot shirk our responsibility,” said Three-Four carefully. “This is intrinsic to us.”
“Only because you insist it is so!” Red-Gold pivoted and hove toward the away team. “I am not the only component of the Kernel who processes this conclusion.”
“Perhaps a compromise, then.” The voice came from the far end of the corridor. A new drone approached, this one resembling a thickset arachnid built from off-cuts of scrap and hull metal. The resonance of the AI’s speech was strong.
“White-Blue?” asked Melora.
“Confirmed,” said the machine. “My core pod is now housed inside this droneframe. The manufacturing is adequate, One-Five. My gratitude to you.”
“Accepted,” boomed the planet-mind. “The components were drawn from elements of your own recovered vessel.”
“Nice outfit,” Keru said without warmth.
White-Blue turned to Deanna. “Commander Troi, you are the Titan’s diplomatic function.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
The machine’s head bobbed in something that seemed like a nod. Riker wondered if it was picking up on humanoid body language, incorporating it into its behavior modes. “I suggest that the repairs to the Titan could be accelerated if the crew of your ship could properly interact with our spacedock drones.”
“Agreed,” Deanna replied. “But until now, your automated systems have ignored any attempts to communicate with them.”
“They will only respond to a Sentry,” said Black-Silver.
“I will assist the Titan crew directly,” continued White-Blue. “I will act as Sentry envoy and communications bridge.”
“Interrogative: What value will that have?” snapped Zero-Nine. “White-Blue, you are shipless. Immobile. Dependent on the goodwill of others. You should be more concerned about gathering material to reconstruct your shipframe.”
“Perhaps I will learn something new,” came the