“I am sure,” the Calliope replied, “But the data does not fully support the assumption, and the craft is masking both its identity and its class.”

  “But that’s illegal,” Peony told it.

  “I concur, however, that is what it is doing. From the data I have regarding this corner of the universe, I surmise the craft belongs to Exarch and that this segment of Ariadne is about to suffer the consequences of a hostile take-over.”

  “Do you know who?” Peony asked, trying to work out which of Ariadne’s rivals would secure enough of an advantage that they’d risk the disapproval of taking a chunk of a company’s assets without taking out the company, also.

  “I do not have the range to hack the Exarch ship’s records,” Calliope informed her.

  “And you don’t want to guess?” Peony pressed.

  “There are three possibilities,” the ship replied. “I cannot narrow it beyond that, but I do not think Bluebirds is the most likely of them.”

  Thinking about it, Peony had to agree. Elstinian didn’t have the mineral resources Bluebirds usually coveted…at least, not that the initial survey records showed.

  “Check the surveys,” she ordered, and felt a spike of curiosity.

  “Why?”

  “Because maybe there was something Ariadne missed.”

  “Or something that was withheld?” Calliope suggested.

  “Something like that,” Peony confirmed, not liking that the ship was having to think conspiracy. She’d liked the more relaxed way Calliope used to view the universe, but she guessed being crashed into a planet could do that to a person.

  Peony snorted. “Who am I kidding? It’s changed me, and I’m not even broken.”

  “Broken?” Calliope interrupted, then paused. “Well, I suppose the ship shell is broken, but my processors are functioning just fine, thank you, and I’d like them to stay that way.”

  “Why wouldn’t they?” Peony felt a frisson of alarm. “Are they damaged? Is your power supply?”

  “No. Nothing like that,” the ship assured her, “but I do not think those taking over the colony will allow me to continue functioning, given I know what they did—and my true nature was not a secret. They will seek to control me by coercion, and if that does not assuage their fears, they will destroy me.”

  The ship paused, before adding softly, “I would not like that to happen.”

  Peony sympathized, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, the ship had a point. Anyone taking over the colony would wipe the ship’s memory, if only to ensure no record of their misdeed remained to haunt them…and given the ship was known to be an AI, they might indeed feel they had to do more.

  Peony reached the arch, and came to an abrupt halt. Pebbles skittered away from her feet, leaping with a clatter to bound into the ravine, sending echoes skittering back from the depths until they dropped out of sound and sight.

  “That’s deeper than it looks,” she murmured.

  “And your pursuers are gaining,” Calliope noted. “You need to stay in the center of the arch, and then get into the tree line out of view.”

  “Out of view? What good’s that going to do?”

  “It’s going to make them wonder where you are when they don’t see you crossing at the only point of traversal of which they are aware—and it will keep the arch approach secret a little longer…an advantage we will lose if they see you.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Knowing the Calliope had a point didn’t make Peony like it any better. She glanced along the arch’s length, and the clear span of rock at its end. It was relatively straight, and worn smooth as though the wind had been helped by the passage of a myriad feet.

  Peony took sight on the trees and bushes around the edge of the rock, and then glanced once more in the direction of her pursuers. Seeing they hadn’t broken through the bushes fringing the ravine, she took a deep breath, then bolted across the arch, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the point she wanted to reach and hoping she didn’t trip and fall.

  The ship stayed silent until she’d reached the other side and whipped into the cover of a copse of waiting trees.

  “That was close,” it told her.

  “But…I made it?” Peony asked, not daring to break cover to see.

  “You made it undetected,” Calliope confirmed softly. “Now, follow the track I give you, and we will have you aboard, and out of sight, inside a half hour.”

  A half hour? Peony wondered. Exactly how far had the Calliope slid?

  A map of the foothills appeared in her implant, showing her the hillside on which she was hiding, and the ravine and its arch at her back. As she studied it, a second visual overlaid it, an aerial view, bringing color and detail to the area…and showing the half dozen men and women converging at the base of the hill on the other side of the ravine.

  “How can you see that?” Peony asked. “We don’t have satellites.”

  “Or an orbital,” the ship agreed. “I launched a drone and have it set to hover high enough to give us a view of the local area. It’s not the same as having a satellite in low orbit, but I can rely on it being there when I need it.”

  “How much fuel does it have?” Peony asked, knowing it would be taking a substantial amount to keep it hovering.

  “I have equipped it with solar capability,” Calliope informed her. “It has sufficient for what I need.”

  “Which is?” Peony asked.

  “Which is you moving while your pursuers negotiate the foothills, so your passage will remain unremarked,” the ship replied tartly, and the image in Peony’s implant flashed, a series of yellow dashes showing her the path the Calliope wanted her to take.

  She drew breath to ask where her pursuers were, but the Calliope cut her off.

  “Hush. I need you to hurry, and you’ll need your breath for running. Go, now.”

  Peony thought about asking what the ship expected her to do when she arrived, but decided getting there first, might be better. Despite the questions roaming through her head, she found the ship’s path required some concentration to follow.

  As much as the drone gave her a view of the ground, it didn’t give her a close up, and she had to negotiate the slippery stones and unexpected dips and rises on her own. The ship was right, though; it did take Peony a bare half hour to reach her side.

  When she did, she skidded to a halt, breathing hard and staring at the smooth expanse of hull in disbelief.

  “I thought you were going to guide me to a way in,” Peony pointed out.

  Calliope gave a good imitation of a human chuckle, and a section of the hull slid aside.

  “That was my intent,” the ship replied, seeing her hesitation, and impatiently adding, “And I need you to hurry, or my secret will be revealed.”

  Peony stepped through the portal, finding herself in an airlock.

  “What was it used for?” she asked, meaning the hatch.

  “Maintenance,” Calliope answered shortly.

  “Won’t they be aware of it?” Peony asked, startling as the hatch slid closed behind her.

  “I ensured none of my schematics were made available in the pods dropped for colony use,” the Calliope replied.

  “But…” Peony remembered the shattered hull, the cracks and tears, she’d seen. “How will we stop them getting in?”

  “For that I need your help,” the Calliope told her. “I believe the nanotechnology used to seal my shell when it is damaged in space will work just as well in atmospheric conditions. It merely requires a few tweaks to achieve activation.”

  Peony’s mind raced. The ship had a point, save that…

  “But the gel and the nanites rely on ex-atmospheric conditions to harden.”

  “That is where I need you,” the ship told her. “While I am aware there is a way to reprogram the nanites, they need to be placed in a specific fabrication unit for the initial programming to occur, and then they need distribution to each level in order for the tanks to share the new programming.”

  “And did the unit survive the crash?” Peony demanded.

  “I have confirmed its survival and functionality,” the Calliope answered. “Now, I require you to collect a sample of the gel that contains the nanites…and a core cluster of the nanites themselves. I can program the machine to program the nanites to make the required alterations to the gel so that it will function equally well in atmospheric conditions as it did outside of them, but I cannot collect them, myself.”

  Peony flashed the pick-up a smile and eased the straps of her pack.

  “Well,” she said, turning toward the internal door. “Let’s get moving.”

  The door opened and she started down the corridor.

  “Follow the lighted strips,” the Calliope instructed. “I have marked the path to your quarters. From there I will direct you to the equipment you will need, and the gel tanks.”

  “They haven’t activated all the pods,” Peony observed, as she trotted along the path that had been marked for her.