Exactly three seconds of warp speed drained the fuel gauge to 0.6%. The visor continued flashing red with a damaged section of the hull's backside grayed out, destroyed and sealed off. Under the craft's wire frame, a panel was drawn. Words were typed. This craft's name apparently was also Ingenuity.
Ingenuity
**Mk-1 Hull: 82% (rear damaged)
**Mk-1 Computer Mainframe: 11%
**Mk-1 Gravity Drive: 100%
**Mk-1 Sensor: 89%
**Mk-1 Cloaking Field: 100%
**Mk-1 Shield Generator: 0%
**Mk-1 Power Generator: 23%
**Mk-1 Matter Manipulator: 89%
**Mk-1 Refinery: 4%
**Mk-1 3D Printer: 29%
**Atmospheric Modulator: 100%
**Decontamination Spray: 100%
**Silas' Quarters (including his bonsai tree): 100%
Silas had to grin at the last entry. "I don't know what I'd do without my bonsai. You have a good sense of humor, Tracey, I give you that much."
"It's no laughing matter. Your mental health is crucial to your survival." She was half-serious, half-joking.
"You care, why?"
"Is it not apparent? Because you arrived, I was able to repair this spacecraft and leave planet C. I owe you, as your people would say, a debt of gratitude. It is only fair that I look out for your well-being, and—"
He waved her off. "Okay. I get you. So where are we now? Can they track us?"
She looked like she wanted to continue with her ramble. She smartly answered, "We are traveling through interstellar space at sub-light-speed, and as far as I know, those interceptors lack tracking capability beyond thirty light-minutes."
"Why are we moving slow?"
"The refinery was heavily damaged just then. As I said, the power generator takes in a form of refined dark matter that I gather with use of the matter manipulator."
So far, this was making sense. "I assume you can't repair it?"
"We lack… necessary resources." She frowned in concentration, and another panel was drawn. "Specifically rare metals and metalloids. I have counted and grouped items into simplified, standard units. Let me know if you require anything to be expanded upon."
**Storage
**Common Metals (3.24)
**Rare Metals (0.12)
**Carbon (8.82)
**Silicon (3.11)
**Rare Metalloids (0.05)
**He-3 Reactor
Silas was no scientist, and Tracey clearly knew. Even that much technical information was reaching his limit of understanding. He tried to sound smart: "What's the difference between a common and rare metal? What if we come across an asteroid made of gold? Suddenly it's not so rare then?"
Her expression was thoughtful. "Perhaps rare and common are inaccurate translations. Common metals are elements up to and including iron in the periodic table. Rare metals and metalloids—"
"Why iron?"
"Elements up to iron can be mass-produced in specialized fusion refineries, and therefore are considered as common as hydrogen. Anything greater than iron, however, can only be mass-produced from heavier elements in fission refineries, and you know how rare heavy elements like gold and silver are." A little smile curled her lips. "Would you like me to further explain the science behind this?"
"Eh… I'll pass." His curiosity was more than satisfied in that regard. "But why are carbon and silicon given their own entries?"
"You will soon find many crafting recipes—"
"Crafting recipes?" he laughed.
"I am taking a page out of the games you are fond of." She smiled wryly. "Carbon and silicon are crucial elements for many recipes and should be stockpiled. Just to note, specific element entries are not included in aggregate rare and common entries."
This was all becoming more like a game by the hour. What was next? Stat points? No way. "And how does crafting work?"
She took a moment to think. "The 3D printer is able to manipulate atomic bonds and structures. For example, your body is mostly carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen. With sufficient elemental resources, the printer can produce an exact replica of your body."
"You're serious?" he choked.
"I only lack an analyzer to formulate such a recipe of your body." She was utterly serious.
"So…"
She read his thoughts: "A replica of your brain will not have your memories. Like my data-banks, your memories are partly encoded on the quantum level. Printing a full organism is unadvised."
He wasn't sure why he was relieved. Something about playing god to such an extent was more than just unnerving; it was deeply disturbing. "Okay. Okay. Brain—no go. But let's say hypothetically I need a heart transplant…"
Her smile was tender. "Then I could operate on you, Silas. You can trust me."
"I'm sure I can," he huffed. "But you'd need an analyzer first, correct?"
"Correct."
"Do you have the recipe?"
"I'm currently recovering a block in my archives that contains it." Her eyes slightly squinted, drawing a progress bar above the fuel gauge.
**Data Block 293145 Recovery: 72.3% (29:21 remaining)
**Overall Recovery: 0.0013%
She continued: "Many larger blocks were completely destroyed and cannot be recovered. I suspect those blocks contained many complex recipes including specialized refineries, advanced weaponry, and detailed historical records."
Damn. That's pretty damn convenient. Too convenient. He asked, "Why didn't you do this recovery earlier?"
She chuckled. The sound was alluring. "You are right to distrust me, but I do not deceive you. Before the repair protocol reset my system, my orders were strictly to scout, return, and execute repair only if necessary. I was unable to execute data recovery."
It made sense—in a contrived kind of way. Silas wracked his brain to find holes in her story, but her reasoning was air-tight. He reluctantly nodded. "What other data blocks are available?"
"An index-recovery is being done in parallel. Currently, I have identified blocks for… mark-2 shield generator, mark-2 gravity drive, mark-2 sensor, and mark-1 plasma cannon. Each require over an hour to recover. I highly advise to recover the mark-2 sensor next. It will allow us to penetrate basic stealth and expand our sensing range to three hundred light-minutes."
Only four recipes indexed? Computers back on Earth could index faster. But he noted Tracy's mainframe was at 11%, and this was alien tech. "Okay. That sounds good. Do you see any asteroids with rare metals near?"
At his question, a star chart was drawn, taking up five inches of the visor. Ingenuity was a triangular dot heading straight for an unlabeled star next to three other unlabeled stars. The chart zoomed out all the way to encompass the entirety of the Milky Way. An arrow highlighted their position. The last-known location of an Argenci mothership was two inches away at the galaxy's outer reaches, tens of thousands of light-years away.
Silas asked, "You're going to take me there, aren't you?"
"Once repairs are complete, that is my intention."
"And where's Earth?"
A third arrow marked a position almost overlapping Ingenuity's. Tracy's expression was soft and caring. "Over a thousand light-years. You are very far from home."
"Yeah." He shrugged. "But with this gravity drive, it's like what? Three seconds of warp speed? I can return whenever."
"Do you wish to return?"
His eyes cut to hers. "You said the Elraeed would shoot us down."
She sighed. "I must confess I was exaggerating earlier. Though they maintain observational bases near developing species, it is not as often as I implied. Your people are still very young technologically, and thus uninteresting. There is a high chance that you can return without meeting confrontation."
His scowl gradually loosened, and he wasn't surprised. "Tracey. You can see and hear my memories—"
"With better clarity than you."
"Don't interrupt," he said playfully. "You've seen the highs and lows of my life. Do you really think I'd like to return? Be honest, yeah?"
"Honestly, I estimate there is a forty-percent chance that you will eventually decide to. You are an inherently social organism. Soon you will begin to miss contact with your fellow Humans, and this loneliness will accumulate until you develop mental abnormalities."
He couldn't deny it. Even when he had been homeless, he had loitered with other bums at the shelter. He had chosen to hang out with them simply out of boredom. It was natural primate behavior. Maybe if he were an evolved owl, things would be different, but that was fantastical thinking, crazy thinking.
However, right now he was not feeling homesick—far from it. "Maybe one day, but right now, I want to explore the universe." Not only that, he we wanted to experience another round of space combat. His heart hadn't raced so fast in a long, long while. He hadn't felt such fear and excitement since his Olympian day, and the primate testosterone in his blood wanted even more. More danger. More adrenaline.
Out of nowhere, a deep hatred for the Arrakis, for the Elraeed, fired up his chest as sudden realization dawned upon him. With all their advanced technology and all their god-like knowledge, they could end suffering on Earth, help so many sick and poor and disadvantaged souls. Why not intervene and make things better? Because they respected all life? What kind of bull-crap was that? And then they would react in violence against anyone who thought otherwise. Silas just couldn't agree to these so-call values. They were hypocrites. They were the jailers of mankind.
Tracey said, "So you wish to fight in the war?"
"I do. Let's get Ingenuity repaired and armed."
"That's the plan, Captain Creedy."
He smirked. "I like the sound of that. Captain Creedy."
"It does have a nice crunch." She mirrored his smirk. "It's good that you've finally seen the light."
"I have."
"Do you still wish to return to your people?"
"Maybe once the Elraeed have pissed off from our business."
"I agree. They have no right interfering."
"Yeah, they're dicks." And once they were out of the way, Silas was going to bring humanity into a new golden age.