Synthesis - James Swallow [68]
He frowned, slightly irritated that the machine was correct for what had to be the fourth or fifth time. “Very well,” he snapped. “Proceed.”
White-Blue’s sensor head dipped slightly as it communicated with its fellows, and then it jerked back up to look at him. “This would take less time if I were allowed to prioritize and authorize each repair task myself, rather than asking for your permission in every instance.”
“It would,” agreed Xin. “Quite frankly, with several of my key staff being assigned to some make-weight supervisory mission, I would welcome a less cluttered schedule.” Before the AI could respond, he gave it a hard look. “But that’s not going to happen anytime soon.”
White-Blue paused, and Xin wondered if the machine was considering the presence of Chief Dennisar and two more security guards standing a few meters away, their phaser rifles at the ready on their shoulder slings. When it spoke again, he thought he could sense some artificial rendition of regret. “I have made errors in my dealings with you,” it admitted. “I applied my own cultural standards to an alien society, and that was incorrect.”
The admission caught the engineer by surprise. “If we understood more about each other, perhaps we could bridge the knowledge gap.” He moved around the systems display. “You’ve told us nothing about your origins and your purpose here. You can’t have evolved in this system. There isn’t the infrastructure or resource to build mechanisms like your FirstGen. Who created you? What happened to them?”
White-Blue turned a cluster of eye lenses on him. “Those questions are of importance to you, Xin-RaHavreii.”
Something in the AI’s answer gave him a moment’s pause. Standing there, looking into the cold, expressionless optics of the droneframe, he felt a sudden stab of animal fear, an abrupt sense of exactly how alien this machine was to him. Xin had met many different species in his life, beings vastly different in nature and shape from his humanoid form, but in all of those encounters, those beings had been the product of nature, of raw evolution, of the stuff of the universe itself. The Sentry was something else. It was entirely created, engineered, and constructed from metals and tripolymers, given life not by fate but by design. In that way, it was unlike him in every single aspect of its being.
“You are one of the creators-programmers of this vessel,” White-Blue continued. “Those data were among those I scanned,” it explained. “You helped to build the central intellect of the Titan.”
His throat was dry. “Among other things, yes.”
“Interrogative: Why did you retard its mental growth? What value was there in this? Did you consider it a threat as you consider me a threat?” The queries were delivered in a careful, metered monotone that made them all the more troubling.
“There is no simple answer to any of those questions,” Xin replied, a little too quickly. “It wasn’t an act of cruelty, if that is what you’re implying.”
“You have never been a parent,” said White-Blue. “I registered that fact in your personnel file. Interrogative: Do you have an understanding of what that process state entails?”
“I fail to see what that has to do with this.”
Dennisar and the security guards noted the shift in the timbre of Xin’s voice, and they came closer, alert for any eventuality.
“You are engaged in an emotional and physical relationship with a female crewmate, Identifier: Melora Pazlar, Species: Elaysian.” The statement was matter-of-fact, and hearing it laid out in such bald terms set Xin’s teeth on edge. He knew it was irrational, but it annoyed him. White-Blue continued. “Interrogative: Do you plan on this pairing to include the creation of a child?”
“My personal relationships are a private matter,” Xin retorted, although he knew that was far from the truth. He glowered at the AI. “And my work in building the