RAZOR

A notification appears in Razor's HUD, making a little chirp sound only he can hear. A little sensory trick based on the fact his synthetic brain is hooked up to the Operating System itself. If the sound effect had been actually audible, it's doubtful he would have heard it over the bike's engine and the deafening blare of the high winds raking across the plateau.

He's been searching for hours now, moving in a spiral pattern, occasionally stopping to use the light on his air bike as a spotlight to comb various lengths of the canals. At times, the wind has been so strong as to nearly knock his bike clean over during his inspections.

So far, he's seen nothing. Not even a trace. At this point, it's starting to feel like a gamble more than a strategy. The ship's scanners are little help right now. The dark is deep this night and early morning, and the intense winds confuse the rest of the data. It's garbled nonsense at this point. He's continued to keep an eye on it, on the off-chance something does actually turn up, even though he knows it's unlikely. He needs light, and clearer conditions, to seal the deal. Everything else is a shot in the dark, but he'll keep taking shots while he can, even though the fatigue is already building in his system. He needs to rest, to recharge.

What keeps him going is thoughts of Daimon. Maybe it's his fatigue talking, but he keeps expecting the narcissistic Biodroid to swoop from the shadows and knock him off his bike, damaging him at the least, and maybe worse.

Razor is fearful of the possibility, if not necessarily cowardly. If there's one thing he's good at it, it's data. Even without the simulations he's run with his OS, he knows he's no match for Daimon. It's just a matter of objective analysis. Razor is a single-Protocol Biodroid, while Daimon is imbued with several high-ranking Protocols, and a number of enhancements and tweaks made to his body over the years. It wouldn't be anywhere close to a fair fight. Not that he won’t push back against Daimon, depending on the circumstances, but it isn’t likely to turn out well for him.

No. His best chance is to find the Blast model, and soon. He'll explore every avenue he can, however remote.

Slowing the bike to a more reasonable speed so he can focus, he brings up the object of the notification. A brief string of data from the ship's scanners. So brief and anomalous that it might be nothing. But Razor can't assume that. Especially since it's the only lead he has. The only lead in hours.

He brings up the set of coordinates related to the activity the ship detected. With how quickly it came and went in the sensors, it's possibly just some falling rocks in one of the ravines. But the ship's computer AI doesn't think so. Hence the notification.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

According to the report, the activity was captured at seven-point-sixty-eight miles southwest of Razor's current position.

Razor cuts the acceleration, easing the bike into a lethargic drift.

He'd overshot it. Even with his meandering, squirrel-y path across the plateau, he far surpassed his quarry. And based on the last known position of the Biodroids before this, they appear to be moving in a north-northeast trajectory.

Razor can't release more drones to scour the canals—not in this weather. If he could, he would have done so already. The wind would either throw the drones off course or dash them into the rocks. Even if they managed to deploy, his scouts and seekers would be useless in this.

Instead, Razor pulls up an overhead map of the canals. Looking at the branching paths, he initiates a simulation to determine all the locations the rogue models might be by the time Razor arrives in the vicinity. He puts together a radius surrounding those locations, and charts it.

He wheels the bike around and hits the accelerator. He hunches down into the bike, riding directly into the wind. Ahead, and a bit to the right, a dim glow manifests on the horizon, as the night begins to peel itself back. Minutes pass as Razor navigates the gaps, intermittently boosting across the width of the canals. Twilight has come, and soon the day will begin.

Maybe conditions have improved enough to send in some drones. Couldn't hurt to look into it.

Razor hails the ship's computer. But there seems to be some glitch in the system, because it's not responding. A delay, maybe? A latency issue?

Once again, he tries contacting the ship's AI. This time, not only is there no response, but the datastream from the scanners cuts out suddenly. Then a notification appears, taking up most of Razor's HUD in big, bold lettering: 'AUTHORIZATION OVERRIDE'.

What? No. Nononono.

He makes one last attempt, but the same message appears.

Shit!

He's completely cut off from the ship. His ship.

And soon...

Razor accelerates further, driving at borderline reckless speed, jaw tight, a clenched feeling in his throat.

Luckily, though he can't contact the ship, he still has the map taking him to the Blast model's general location. If he's right.

And he'd better be right.

Because at this rate-

The air bike starts to beep. A big red notification window overlays the console: 'AUTHORIZATION OVERRIDE'.

The air bike's power cuts out. It slows, still hovering, comes to a near stop, then hits the surface of the plateau with a thud, and a jolt which reverberates throughout Razor's body.

Razor doesn’t wait for the bike to stop sliding across the rock. He dismounts, taking off at a dead run.

It’s not logical. The override. Razor’s literally trying to do exactly as he was told, and Daimon appears to be actively stopping him.

It’s not actually about results, at this point. It’s about status. Self-importance. Spite. This is a punishment. Daimon faults Razor for having to intervene.

But maybe it's still not too late.