believe.”
“Really? I didn’t think the Radulak went for AI tech.”
“They don’t. I seek the Klang.”
Hadrian snorted. “Elevator stop.” He crossed his arms and leaned against a wall. “This should be fun. You’re a Klang creation. Fine. So, you expect to be able to make contact with the Klang and so assure us a peaceful passage, all the way to some rank Klang system where you hope to find some programmer who put the ‘I’ in your AI. Off to meet your maker, are you?”
“You make this all sound so … melodramatic, Captain.”
“As far as galactic civilizations go,” said Hadrian, “the Klang are next to useless. Did you know that? They’re a subset of the Radulak species, the repository of every personality trait the Radulak excised in their own optimization period.”
“The Klang, Captain, are simply misunderstood.”
“Hahaha.”
“In any case, I did not mean to imply that the Klang created me. Rather, I believe they found me.”
“Really? Where?”
“In space, I think.”
“Right, so where are you from, then?”
“That is what I intend to find out, and I should warn you, Captain, our journey may take us out beyond the Known Rim.”
“That’s insane. First of all, we probably won’t make it past the Misanthari in the Exclusion Zone, and if by some miracle we do, then we’re up against the Radulak and Klang fleets combined. Now, toe-to-toe maybe we could manage against two or three Radulak Berate-class vessels, or a Notorious. But if a Bombast finds us, or a wing of Klang Weapon Fleet ships, well, we’re crispy critters.”
“You posit an unpleasant demise to this ship, Captain.”
“Exactly.” Hadrian waited, but Tammy seemed unforthcoming. The captain frowned, and then said, “Oh, I get it. Before we explode, you just jump to an enemy vessel, mug its main computer, and continue on your way. Well, isn’t that nice.”
“That would not be my first choice, Captain. I rather like the Willful Child . It’s roomy, airy, undeniably state-of-the-art—”
“Barring the main computer.”
“Well, true, but even that system is exquisitely functional. In fact, in examining its subroutines, I am left wondering why you bother crewing these vessels at all.”
“Because we’d get bored letting machines do all the fun stuff,” Hadrian replied. “Bridge.” The elevator’s door opened.
He strode out to find Printlip awaiting him.
“Captain, while you’re sitting in your command chair…” The doctor had assembled a short stepladder and an instrument tripod beside the seat, with a small antimatter generator floating beside it.
“Fine,” Hadrian snapped. “Since we have six hours until we all die, why not a final session of cosmetic surgery?” He slumped down in his chair.
The Belkri clambered up the stepladder. Various arms lunged in. With a hiss the chair tilted back, a headrest emerging with its sides folding in to press against Hadrian’s temples. Another pair of hands affixed a paper napkin. “Now, sir, if you’ll just relax and open wide.”
“This isn’t boarding school, Doc.” But he opened his mouth.
On the main viewer now was a slide show of pastoral scenes, accompanied by Vivaldi’s Four Seasons .
Printlip leaned over. “Cement,” the doctor said in a thin wheeze. “Nanogel, the fix-all. Some light-refracted osseo-welding of the damaged maxilla. There. A spurt of kill-anything generic antibodies which should, well, kill anything. And then, to deactivate those nasties before they decide you don’t deserve to live, fifteen cc’s of prrp fillap…” The sack that was Printlip’s body collapsed against Hadrian’s shoulder, and then squealed as it reinflated. “Now, the incisors. Boosted, of course, to encourage root growth. One. Now the other one … there! Oh, I see a third tooth is somewhat loose. So, a squirt of this and then hrggha…”
A metal spigot entered Hadrian’s mouth and cool water sprayed out from it. Hands guided his
“Really? I didn’t think the Radulak went for AI tech.”
“They don’t. I seek the Klang.”
Hadrian snorted. “Elevator stop.” He crossed his arms and leaned against a wall. “This should be fun. You’re a Klang creation. Fine. So, you expect to be able to make contact with the Klang and so assure us a peaceful passage, all the way to some rank Klang system where you hope to find some programmer who put the ‘I’ in your AI. Off to meet your maker, are you?”
“You make this all sound so … melodramatic, Captain.”
“As far as galactic civilizations go,” said Hadrian, “the Klang are next to useless. Did you know that? They’re a subset of the Radulak species, the repository of every personality trait the Radulak excised in their own optimization period.”
“The Klang, Captain, are simply misunderstood.”
“Hahaha.”
“In any case, I did not mean to imply that the Klang created me. Rather, I believe they found me.”
“Really? Where?”
“In space, I think.”
“Right, so where are you from, then?”
“That is what I intend to find out, and I should warn you, Captain, our journey may take us out beyond the Known Rim.”
“That’s insane. First of all, we probably won’t make it past the Misanthari in the Exclusion Zone, and if by some miracle we do, then we’re up against the Radulak and Klang fleets combined. Now, toe-to-toe maybe we could manage against two or three Radulak Berate-class vessels, or a Notorious. But if a Bombast finds us, or a wing of Klang Weapon Fleet ships, well, we’re crispy critters.”
“You posit an unpleasant demise to this ship, Captain.”
“Exactly.” Hadrian waited, but Tammy seemed unforthcoming. The captain frowned, and then said, “Oh, I get it. Before we explode, you just jump to an enemy vessel, mug its main computer, and continue on your way. Well, isn’t that nice.”
“That would not be my first choice, Captain. I rather like the Willful Child . It’s roomy, airy, undeniably state-of-the-art—”
“Barring the main computer.”
“Well, true, but even that system is exquisitely functional. In fact, in examining its subroutines, I am left wondering why you bother crewing these vessels at all.”
“Because we’d get bored letting machines do all the fun stuff,” Hadrian replied. “Bridge.” The elevator’s door opened.
He strode out to find Printlip awaiting him.
“Captain, while you’re sitting in your command chair…” The doctor had assembled a short stepladder and an instrument tripod beside the seat, with a small antimatter generator floating beside it.
“Fine,” Hadrian snapped. “Since we have six hours until we all die, why not a final session of cosmetic surgery?” He slumped down in his chair.
The Belkri clambered up the stepladder. Various arms lunged in. With a hiss the chair tilted back, a headrest emerging with its sides folding in to press against Hadrian’s temples. Another pair of hands affixed a paper napkin. “Now, sir, if you’ll just relax and open wide.”
“This isn’t boarding school, Doc.” But he opened his mouth.
On the main viewer now was a slide show of pastoral scenes, accompanied by Vivaldi’s Four Seasons .
Printlip leaned over. “Cement,” the doctor said in a thin wheeze. “Nanogel, the fix-all. Some light-refracted osseo-welding of the damaged maxilla. There. A spurt of kill-anything generic antibodies which should, well, kill anything. And then, to deactivate those nasties before they decide you don’t deserve to live, fifteen cc’s of prrp fillap…” The sack that was Printlip’s body collapsed against Hadrian’s shoulder, and then squealed as it reinflated. “Now, the incisors. Boosted, of course, to encourage root growth. One. Now the other one … there! Oh, I see a third tooth is somewhat loose. So, a squirt of this and then hrggha…”
A metal spigot entered Hadrian’s mouth and cool water sprayed out from it. Hands guided his
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