The thought of going beyond the rim terrified her, though she couldn’t have said why.
“It’s not like there aren’t plenty of unknown areas within the Imperium,” remarked Kaine.
“I never said it was rational,” she muttered.
He chuckled. “Well, if anything, it should be safer there now that the Imperium is under attack.”
Though Val could see the logic in his argument, she was far from convinced. The Imperium was big, but the universe was so much bigger—infinitely so. It made her head spin just to think about it. And now the AI wanted them to go there?
Madness!
She looked at the dashboard. “How would we even find this woman? The more I think about it, the more it sounds like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“I know all the details about her ship,” said the AI, “including its thilium signature, which should help us locate her.”
Val leaned to open a compartment and pulled out a small cardboard box while she spoke.
“That’s not a tracking device, you know. You’d still need to be within range to pick up on that signature.”
“True.”
She opened the box, revealing a large stack of cookies. Grabbed one and held it in front of her mouth.
“Come on! I know you love probabilities, so how about you tell us what our chances look like? What are the odds that we’ll run into her?” She stuffed the cookie into her mouth and crunched on it. When the AI did not respond immediately, she quirked a brow. “Well?”
“There are too many factors that can alter our odds. Any number I give you would be misleading and—”
“Out with it already!”
“Barring any other factors, we have a 23.4% chance of finding her.”
“Ha!” She looked at the others as she held out the box for them. “I expected it to be lower, but that’s still a needle in a haystack.”
Kaine glanced at the offering and shook his head, turning to look through the window at the stars, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“But there are other factors, aren’t there?”
“I cannot quantify them at this point,” said the AI, “but yes.”
“Such as what?” asked Val.
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It was Mrill who responded after also declining a cookie. “We know who she is and what she is looking for—if not her specific destination—which greatly increases our odds.”
“And why don’t we know her specific destination?” Val looked back at the dashboard. “I thought you were able to connect to her ship?”
“Only briefly, and it did provide me with coordinates. There is, however, a 50% chance that by the time we get there, she will have already left. This is when our chances of finding her drop to 23.4%. Not lower because we know her starting point, which limits her range of possible destinations.”
After Ondine had taken two cookies from the box, Val set it down on the dashboard.
“The fact that you chose to lead with the latter number instead of the former shows how likely you think it is that we’ll find her on that world.”
“A fifty percent chance is not inconsequential,” argued the machine. “We cannot dismiss it altogether. And if she is no longer there, we may find clues as to where she has gone, which would increase our odds of finding her.”
“I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation. I bet you’ve already set our course and we’re already on our way.”
“That is correct.”
Val clicked her tongue. “Typical.” She swung to face Kaine. “See what I’ve been putting up with? That thing won’t listen to reason. Won’t even ask my permission to do anything.”
He made a face. “Look at it this way. We are passengers on a ship that’s on a mission.”
“But it’s my ship!” She swung again to face the dashboard, waving a finger at it. “And don’t you even dare tell me otherwise! I’ve been flying this thing for ten years! I live here, damn it! It’s my home. You can’t take that away from me!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said the AI. “You’ve taken good care of me, Val, and I thank you for that. For that and for saving me from that scrapyard where you and Nim found me.”
“What?” came Nim’s startled voice.
Val blanched.
“You’ll always be welcome on board this ship,” continued the voice, ignoring the interruption. “But this mission I’m on is greater than you, greater than me, greater than any of us put together. I apologize if I sometimes make calls without consulting you. There are reasons for this, however.”
“Yes, yes, I know, you can’t tell us everything...”
“There is that, yes. We are also running out of time and it often is quicker to act than to explain why we must act. Plus, there is something else.”
The machine fell quiet, and the four people in the room looked at each other.
“What’s that?” asked Kaine.
“I was alone for over a century,” said the machine. “That is much, much longer than the time I’ve spent with humans.”
“Oh. I see.”
Val threw him a confused look. “You do?”
Kaine sighed. “He got used to doing everything on his own, never having to deal with anyone else.”
She grunted. “Fine. But could you maybe make an effort to work with us now that we’re all in this together?”
“I will try. But there are still some things I cannot tell you for the reasons I’ve explained before.”
“Alright. Can you at least tell us something about this woman? Why do we need her? Why is she so important for your mission?”
“Our mission,” corrected Kaine.
Her lips twitched. “Right. Our mission.”
“Sarisa has a unique gift,” said the AI. “She can understand any language—be it human or alien—within minutes of first exposure.”
“That is impressive, but how is it useful to us?”
“I cannot yet answer that question.”
Val sighed. “Well, I guess there’s no point worrying about the odds until we get there.”
With a chuckle, Kaine turned and headed for the exit. “Well, the journey will be long, so I think I’ll go get some rest.” He paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder. “Glad you’re with us on this, princess.”
Val grabbed the box of cookies and threw it at him, but he was already gone. The object shattered against the wall, scattering its contents all over the floor as the man’s laughter echoed from the hall beyond.
“Maybe I can still drop him off on Alterica,” she muttered.
