Synthesis - James Swallow [75]
It immediately registered the weapon in his hand. “Interrogative: Do you intend harm to this unit?”
“That depends,” he said, making an effort to mimic the same gruff tone he’d seen Pava use on troublesome individuals. “What do you want?”
“I am observing.”
The ensign remembered his earlier words to Commander Tuvok in the shuttlebay. “You’re surveilling me.”
“That is one definition.”
Dakal was going to say something else, but a chiming tone from the console distracted him. Glancing quickly toward the screen, he could see a reading from the scanners indicating a low-band energy emission from the bronze moon. Immediately, he was wondering about its purpose. Too faint for an offensive discharge. Another communications method? Perhaps a sensor beam?
On an impulse, he turned back to the mechanoid. “The moon orbiting this world, it’s one of your FirstGen, isn’t it?”
“Affirmative,” said Cyan-Gray. “Identifier: FirstGen Zero-Three.”
“Why is it out here alone?” He holstered the phaser self-consciously. “The other AIs all orbit the Demon-class planet.”
“Interrogative: Define the term ‘Demon-class,’” said the remote.
“A colloquial name for the planet in the fifth orbit, in reflection of its toxic environment.”
“An interesting idiom.” Cyan-Gray paused, and it appeared to be processing an answer. “Zero-Three retreated from the Sentry social order many solar cycles ago. It was one of the eldest of the FirstGen, but an increase in erratic behavior and disagreements with the Governance Kernel led to an exile here. It has maintained communications silence since that time.”
Dakal’s eye ridges rose. “Well, it seems that time is over. I’m detecting some sort of output from Zero-Three’s surface.”
The drone came forward into the shuttle. “We have detected no such output. You will elucidate.” The urgency in Cyan-Gray’s words was abrupt.
“Obviously, our scanners are more sensitive than yours,” Dakal replied with a faint hint of smugness, but that faded when he chanced a look out through the canopy and into the void beyond. The bronze moon had fully eclipsed the larger of the binary stars as it crossed through the sky, and the dark, haloed sphere suddenly resembled a baleful, sinister eye staring back at him.
Tuvok turned as he heard the remote approach.
“Cooperation in this process is an important step forward,” ventured Cyan-Gray. “I wish to express once more my regret at my mistaken attack on your vessel.”
“People died in that engagement,” Pava said carefully. “Organic beings who can’t make backup copies of themselves.”
“That is also impossible for my kind,” said the remote. “Sentry heuristic networks are evolved forms, too complex for data recovery. We may preserve our knowledge but not our personas.”
“So when your core pod is destroyed, you die?” asked Sethe.
“Affirmative. I greatly regret the deaths I was responsible for. I allowed our need for vigilance to overcome my caution. I will pay recompense as much as I can.”
“Vigilance against the Null?” said Tuvok, without weight.
“Affirmative.”
“You speak of this threat force as a danger to you and yet refuse to discuss it with us.” Tuvok studied the remote. “That is illogical.”
“The Null is our concern.” Cyan-Gray’s reply was sharp. “It is our duty to protect against it, not yours.”
“And you take your duties very seriously,” added Sethe.
Tuvok continued. “Perhaps we can help you.”
“Your assistance is not required. End of line.”
Sethe sniffed. “I think that’s Sentry for ‘Mind your own business.’ ”
The remote moved, and Tuvok saw that it appeared to be examining him. “You three are different genotypes from those I encountered before. Species Reference: Vulcan, Cygnian, Andorian.”
“How do you know that about us?” said Pava.
“Partial information gleaned by White-Blue during traverse through your ship’s systems was passed on to me and from me to all Sentries. This information