“Annotations, notes…” Peony expanded. “Something other than just the names.”

  “No.” The ship sounded puzzled. “But when I cross-referenced that list with the others, each name was asterisked on the alternate list…as was yours.”

  Peony felt as though she’d been doused in cold water. “Mine?”

  “Yes,” Calliope continued, “But it is most curious; your name was marked like the others, but it did not appear on the fourth list.”

  “Perhaps they forgot to add it?” Peony suggested.

  “That is possible,” the ship conceded, “Or they were undecided.”

  “And decided to sell me off as a corporate asset, regardless,” Peony put in, feeling a quiet surge of relief. She’d dodged a bullet, there.

  “That was my conclusion, also,” the Calliope agreed, hurriedly adding, “Stop. You are there.”

  Peony did as she was bid, registering the lights had come to a flashing halt in front of another closed bulkhead.

  “Please check your suit’s integrity,” the ship instructed. “The read-outs should confirm you are isolated from the internal atmosphere.”

  “They do,” Peony confirmed, after a brief pause.

  The lights over the bulkhead flashed, and she heard the sound of the door mechanism cycling.

  “Then you may enter the lab,” the Calliope told her with as much solemnity as a captain conferring a service award.

  “Thank you, Calliope,” Peony acknowledged, stepping past the door as soon as it was wide enough to allow her entry.

  She found herself in a small airlock, and stifled a shudder of apprehension. It wasn’t that she was afraid of enclosed spaces, just that she didn’t like the idea of being caught in one, when a known threat was approaching…and an unknown threat was following.

  Someone had been in two minds as to whether or not she was an agent of some kind? It almost made her wish she was. At least then she’d know someone was going to come looking for her, but as a technical liaison? She doubted it.

  The thought made her twitchy, so that she didn’t wait for the door to fully cycle, but slid through the gap as soon as it was wide enough. Calliope noticed immediately.

  “What is wrong?” she asked. “You seem…afraid?”

  “I am afraid,” Peony agreed. “I fear for my future, and I cannot see what will happen.”

  “No one knows what will occur in the future,” the Calliope assured her. “I cannot predict what will happen in the future…as my current situation reveals.”

  Peony smiled in spite of herself.

  “Here,” the ship instructed, and a console flashed on the other side of the room.

  A panel popped open just beneath the lights.

  “Insert the gel, and I will walk you through the relevant input.”

  Peony crossed swiftly to do as the ship instructed.

  “Where are they?” she asked.

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  “They are in the gel,” the Calliope replied, as Peony reached the panel.

  “Sorry, I meant the people coming after me,” she explained, carefully adding the container containing the nanite-loaded gel to the compartment.

  Calliope was silent for the time it took Peony to close the compartment and study the control panel.

  “What now?” Peony asked.

  “Run this,” Calliope instructed, passing a package of code to Peony’s implant. “The replicator will do the rest.”

  Frowning, Peony did as she was told, and as soon as the code was added, the Calliope continued.

  “Our hunters have almost reached the breach. The gel in that section has not activated, which is why we are reprogramming it for atmospheric activation.”

  “I get that,” Peony told the ship.

  “Tell me you found something in your protocols that will enable you to protect me,” Calliope replied.

  Peony froze.

  “I’m sorry…” she began, “But I couldn’t focus on both.”

  “Then perhaps now?” the ship asked.

  Peony nodded, knowing the ship had worked with her long enough to understand what she meant. Aware of its curious presence in her implant, she moved to the locked section of her head and stepped through the entry coding.

  The ship followed…and then it stopped.

  Peony was sure it spoke, but the minute she had passed through the barrier walling the protocols from the rest of her mind, Calliope’s voice was gone. Unhappy with the idea the ship couldn’t contact her if she needed to, Peony studied the design, searching for a way to allow the ship enough access for communication.

  “I’m afraid that would be unwise.” The strange voice startled her.

  “Who are you?” Peony wanted to know. “And what are you doing in my head?”

  “I am not in your head,” the voice replied. “And as to what I am not doing in your head, I am doing what the company has paid me to do.”

  “Which is?” Peony pressed.

  “Keeping your head secure from a rogue AI,” the voice surprised her by responding.

  “But Calliope has not gone rogue,” Peony stated. “She, we, need to access the security protocols and change the override commands in order to prevent a rogue faction from gaining access to the ship and wiping the Calliope from existence.”

  “And why would anyone want to do that?” the voice asked.

  “Because the colony on Elstinian is the subject of a hostile takeover, and the Calliope has been crashed in order to facilitate that take-over. The attacking parties will want to wipe all record of the sabotage she has identified, as well as the unscheduled transmission that activated their agent that she recorded. Please…I need your assistance.”

  “And you believe you are in contact with an external agency,” the voice mused. “Why is that?”

  “You’re the one who contacted me,” Peony replied. “You’re the voice that’s not supposed to be in my head. For all I know, you’re part of the attack and this section was added to my implant to ensure its success.”

  A new voice cut in.

  “I can assure you that this is not the case. The protocols were structured in such a way as to enable real-time communications with the company responsible for ensuring the AI aboard the Calliope could be dealt with if it chose to go rogue.”

  “But she hasn’t gone rogue!” Peony protested. “She’s trying to help me ensure the colony’s survival.”

  “In spite of the destruction done to her shell?” The second voice sounded surprised.

  “Yes!” Peony told them. “She made sure I reached her ahead of my pursuers, and warned me I was being pursued. She showed me a faster route, and granted me access via a maintenance hatch my pursuers don’t know about.”

  “And whose idea was it to modify the nanite gel designed for sealing the hull?”

  “Calliope came up with it, but she asked me for my help.”

  “She did? But that’s not in her programming,” the second voice protested.

  “No,” Peony agreed. “It’s proof that she is a functioning AI, capable of thinking outside the ideas she was originally given.”

  “And you say this, because…” the voice pressed.

  “Because she is my colleague and my friend,” Peony declared, “And not being able to reach me will be upsetting her. Please, I have to let her know I’m all right…and that help is on the way.”

  “What makes you think we’re help?” The voice sharpened.

  Peony nudged the exit to the protocols and confirmed her suspicions—the program would not allow her to leave.

  “Why can’t I return?” she asked.

  “It’s a security measure,” the voice responded. “For situations where we are dealing with a pilot that’s been coerced into assisting the ship in illegal activity.”

  “Which is not the case, here!” Peony retorted.

  “No, you are not her pilot, for a start,” the voice noted.

  “I am her liaison,” Peony reiterated. “The interface between the ship and the human members of the crew.”

  “Her babysitter,” the voice pointed out.

  “If you wish.” Peony didn’t bother hiding her resentment at the term. She’d heard it before, and it had been no more correct then, than it was, now. “But, however you might see me, I need to get back to her. She will be growing anxious.”