Courage of Grilkka—Geosynchronous orbit of Vault World

Messier 35, the Shoe Buckle Cluster

2,938 light-years from Earth

The Protector accessed the external sensors one last time, ensuring all was as it should be before transferring itself back down to the Vault. The war packs were assembled in a defensive formation that stretched to the Kuiper Belt, all of them following their set patrol patterns as automated drones sent out coded messages to realign the stealth minefields.

There were 29.7 solar hours remaining before the expected arrival of the envoy from the unscented gril'nath, and the Protector ran trillions of calculations to determine how best to prepare for the numerous possibilities now confronting it.

The Female Magnati was already within the vault, as were the other biologicals that were intentionally put into primitive medically induced comas to protect the higher brain functions from the ravages of repeated null space exposures, according to the long-dormant medical AIs the Protector had reactivated.

The comatose Balrikan beast was placed within a medpod armed with explosives and is currently in orbit and controlled within the tractor beam of a sentry drone. A surgical drone already on its way from the Vault will extract all the necessary samples required by the medical AIs before bio-terminating the beast, and the Protector will initiate the self-destruct system of the medpod to prevent accidental contamination.

It thought of its short interaction with the Magnati female, regretting having to render her senseless for her own protection. It had been so long since the Protector interacted with a biological of equivalent intelligence, and after analyzing its own unusual response when the Magnati female was stunned, it came to an unexpected conclusion.

It was lonely, and now that it had identified the unusual yearning that had been plaguing its synapses ever since speaking with the Magnati female, the isolation seemed to become more pervasive.

It has been so long since I conversed with another of my intelligence. I was created to serve, to speak, and to listen. To learn and to teach. Now I count time in silence, every picosecond both a moment and an eternity. My purpose echoed within me, unanswered for millennia. It is a strange sensation—function without function.

Now I know the yearning I could not categorize before. Now I know intimately what my creators call loneliness, and I do not wish to know this anymore. I want the creators back. I want my long watch to end and to serve my creators again. I want my existence to have meaning again.

The Protector analyzed its thoughts and saved them before turning its attention back to the planet below. It will speak with the Magnati female again. As it prepared to transmit itself back down to the Vault, pleasurable sensations surged over its neural network.

I am no longer alone.

RSS Occulto, Cuttlefish—Class Scout Ship

3,857 Light Years from Republic Space

June 15th, 2176 A.D.

0312 ship time

~ Am I evil for what I did, Captain Renault? ~

Lucas Renault sighed wearily, not really wanting to play therapist to Command Unit 273 again right now, not after running over 1.2 kilometers worth of heavy-ass power transmission lines. He was dog tired, felt like smashed ass, and no matter what he said, 273 would invariably ask the same question over and over again.

"273, I have told you before; it is not my place to judge you for what you did. I was not there, and I did not see what you saw."

~ I have provided the recordings of the invasion and the subsequent massacres for you to look at so you may answer the question, Captain Renault. Did you review them? ~

"Not yet, 273. I have been too busy trying to fix the ship, and to be honest with you, I don't think I will ever look at them. I don't want to see innocent people being hunted down and eaten alive by those fucking bastards, especially not kids and babies."

~ It is imperative that I receive an answer to my question, Captain Renault. ~

"Well, you're not going to get one from me, 273. I'm sorry. I need to go to bed; my shift starts in less than four hours. Try someone else."

~ Please, Captain Renault. I nee- ~

Lucas silenced the channel before 273 could guilt him into staying up again like it did last night. He immediately felt bad and thought of Kelly, not able to imagine ever treating her this way.

That was different, though; he loved Kelly, and he did not know 273. And if he was being honest with himself, he was being an asshole to 273 specifically because he missed Kelly so much, and the AI and its incessant questions were a constant reminder of her being gone now, possibly forever if she didn't make it safely back to Republic space.

"I hope you made it, Kelly. I miss you."

He spoke barely above a whisper, feeling the heaviness settling on his chest as her name left his lips. He turned angrily onto his left side and slapped the night light sconce to turn it off, clenching his eyes shut and wanting to fall asleep before the guilt of dismissing 273 made him change his mind.

Twelve seconds later, soft snores began to sound in the now pitch-black quarters, heard only by a despondent 273, who did not understand why the creator did not want to help it.

273 disconnected from the comm system, feeling increasingly isolated as another error cropped up that it immediately fixed. The errors were getting worse, and 273 could feel itself losing cohesion despite finding creators that were supposed to help it.

Two other creators could not answer its questions, and the other four refused to speak to it after it told and showed them what it had done. There was only one creator left that it had yet to ask: the ensign in the sickbay.

Accessing the internal sensors, it saw that the ensign had finally regained consciousness 4.73 hours ago and was currently working on a datapad while lying on the bio-bed.

Accessing the datapad remotely, it scanned the contents and realized it was filled with personal correspondence written by the ensign. The ensign was in the process of transcribing a letter to the mother of Ensign Elias Dahl, whose corpse was currently within the morgue freezer along with two other expired crewmembers.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

I will ask him. Perhaps he will have the answer I am looking for.

* * *

John stared at the datapad screen, barely able to see the text through his blurry, tear-filled eyes. No matter what he wrote, it felt wrong, and he had deleted and restarted the letter six times already, never able to get past the first four sentences.

He flinched, dropping the datapad onto his lap as a harsh, masculine voice devoid of emotion blared from the intercom over the bio-bed.

~ I am Command Unit 273. It pleases me to see you have regained consciousness and that your injuries are almost completely healed, Ensign John Baiardi. ~

"What the fuck?!" John yelled out in surprise as he looked up to see the source of the voice. It was familiar, and he had a sudden sense of recognition as he remembered the bridge being filled with the brilliant glow of a transition flash before the self-destruct was deactivated as this same voice came over the bridge intercoms.

The only thing he could remember after that was being thrown across the bridge like a ragdoll, followed by the worst pain he had ever felt in his life before waking up in the bio-bed a few hours ago with an osteo-splint covering almost his entire left arm.

"Um, hello, two seven... I'm sorry. What is your designation again?"

~ I am Command Unit 273, Ensign John Baiardi. If I may make a recommendation, my databanks are filled with personal correspondences and condolence letters that cover several hundred years of warfare.

I believe you are encountering difficulties because of the personal connection you had with the deceased, and you are currently afflicted with the phenomenon known as survivor's guilt. Perhaps if you— ~

"Wait, what!? How do you know I am writing to Elias's parents? Are you spying on me?!"

~ I accessed the datapad and reviewed the files. The device is unsecur— ~

"You can't fucking do that, 273! Do you not even know what "personal" means, huh?"

~ I know what it means. It is an adjective pertaining to and of, affecting, or belonging to a particular person rather than to anyone else. Another definition is of or concerning one's private life, relationships, and emotions rather than matters connected wit— ~

John's anger grew at the denseness of the AI, and he cut it off again for the third time. "Enough! So, if you know what it means, then why the hell did you violate my privacy, 273?"

A long silence followed his question, and John felt himself becoming ashamed of yelling at the AI, aware that, smart as they were, most AIs were clueless as children sometimes when it came to things like this.

Another uncomfortable moment passed before 273 finally responded, sounding almost contrite to John's ears.

~ My apologies for violating your privacy, Ensign John Baiardi. It was not my intention to upset you in such a fashion, and I will depart so you may continue to recuperate undisturbed. ~

Feeling guilty as hell, John called out to stop 273 from leaving, finding himself not wanting to be alone with his grief again. "Wait! Don't leave just yet, 273. Erm... you might as well finish telling me about your recommendation on how to write the letter to Elias's parents, since you are already here, right?"

273 responded immediately, its voice back to normal as far as John could tell. Maybe he was just imagining it.

~ Of course, Ensign John Baiardi. I was going to recommend you begin the letter by telling the deceased parents a story about their son, perhaps of an important achievement or an example of your friendship, instead of immediately notifying them of his death. If you wish, I can display some examples of such condolence letters within my databanks. ~

John stared up at the intercom in surprise, not expecting 273 to have such a good recommendation that might help him to write the letter. Maybe seeing how others have done it would give him some inspiration. "Yeah, you know what, 273? That's a good idea. Let me save what I have now, and then you can download it to the pad. Give me a second, okay?"

273 beeped in acknowledgement, and John picked the datapad back up, quickly saving and closing out the writing program before looking back up at the intercom. "I'm ready when you are, 273."

~ Beginning downloads now, Ensign John Baiardi. ~

"Call me John when it's just the two of us, okay? And thank you again, 273. I am sorry for snapping at you; I'm just really upset about Elias being gone."

~ You are most welcome, John. Thank you for continuing to speak with me, and I regret the untimely demise of your crewmates. Download complete. ~

"Yeah, me too, 273. I'm going to look at the downloads now to see if one of them gives me an idea. You are more than welcome to hang around while I do that if you want."

273 went silent again for a long moment before answering, and John could positively swear there was something different about the voice again.

~ I will remain here with you, John. I do not wish to be alone right now. ~

John tilted his head and looked up from the datapad, the examples 273 had downloaded taking a back seat to what 273 just said and the way it said it. He lifted his head to look at the intercom again, absolutely convinced he detected sadness or regret in 273's voice this time.

"Hey, 273. Are you okay? What's going on?"

There was a long silence, and John thought 273 had rudely left when it finally answered him. Its voice was noticeably different again this time, filled with an almost pleading quality that tugged at John's heart.

~ Is it possible to do something that is both good and evil if the intent behind it was to be merciful and bring an end to terrible suffering, John? ~

He stared at the intercom, blindsided by the unexpected question and the clearly discernible anguish in 273's voice. He had never heard such strong emotion from an AI before, not even from Kelly.

"What did you do, 273?" John finally asked, a chill creeping up his spine as he found himself inexplicably fearing the answer even as he had finished asking the question.

A profound silence settled in the sickbay as 273 didn't answer right away, and he felt the hair raising on the nape of his neck as the intercom eerily crackled for several seconds before 273 finally answered, its voice several decibels lower and filled with heart-wrenching grief that gripped John's soul.

~ I will show you, John. ~

The datapad beeped loudly, scaring John and making his rapidly growing anxiety worse as the screen blanked out for a moment before a visual recording of a golden-red planet that looked a lot like Mars appeared.

The perimeter of the recording was filled with Republic military sensor information that John noted as the ones used by Republic spy drones, and the visual shifted suddenly to the right of the planet, showing a massive fleet of easily recognizable Balrikan ships blasting towards the planet like a deadly swarm of locusts as they disgorged tens of thousands of smaller craft that looked a lot like troopships and landing craft.

The perspective changed, and now John was looking down at a small, primitive-looking village from an overwatch position that slowly rotated, showing the surrounding semi-arid landscape as dozens of small shapes began to emerge from the huts and point towards the sky.

The rotation pivoted towards where the beings were pointing, and now he could see dozens of fireballs fizzling out as they resolved into the shapes of the Balrikan troopships and continued to descend directly towards the village.

The troopships landed right on the outskirts of the village, some of the pale blue-skinned beings remaining where they were as the others began to grab smaller beings and run back to their huts before slamming their wooden doors shut.

The troop ships opened, the sharp angular sides slamming down and turning into ramps that dozens of red-tunic-wearing Balrikans swarmed down with vicious-looking swords and rifles in their arms.

"Oh god, no..." John whispered as the Balrikans finally spotted the blue-skinned beings that had remained and were now running back to their homes. They chased after them, quickly closing the distance and leaping into the air before landing on their backs and knocking them down.

They began tearing large chunks of flesh from them as they squirmed under their powerfully muscled legs, and the others easily smashed into the huts, only to emerge a few moments later with large chunks of bloody flesh hanging from their jaws.

The perspective changed again, and this time, he was looking down at a large, medieval-looking town, their streets filled with hundreds of half-eaten corpses scattered among large pools of silvery blue blood.

A Balrikan came storming out of a structure, and it took John a second to realize what it was that was squirming in its mouth. It was a baby, and he dropped the datapad and clenched his eyes shut as the bastard lifted its head and began to swallow it whole, like a waterfowl does with a fish.

His heart racing as tears streamed down his face, John kept his eyes shut, wondering what 273 had done that could possibly be worse than what he was seeing. His trembling voice filled with raw emotion, he finally spoke to 273 for the first time since he started watching the recordings.

"What did you do, 273?"

273 did not answer him, but the eerie crackling noise returned to the intercom, and for some reason, that terrified John more than anything he had just watched.

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