“And just what exactly am I to do with the two of you?”

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. Chris had parked us in the ostentatious suite she used to intimidate her subordinates. She herself perched behind a replica of a desk that had once graced the Oval Office, while Raven and I sat in chairs that were set several centimeters lower. I had to hand it to her, she didn’t miss a trick. It’s a classic power move.

After running us both through a comprehensive examination, she’d grilled us for hours, going over our statements again and again, questioning us both separately and together in order to verify our allegations. It wasn’t quite an interrogation. There were no hot lights or sharp implements in evidence, but the guards were never more than two meters away, and Chris’ tone was just this side of outright hostility. I’ve had colonoscopies that were more pleasant.

Actually, I haven’t. It’s just an expression.

But Raven and I stuck to our stories, easy enough to do since they were the truth, and eventually even Chris was forced to admit we weren’t outright traitors to humanity, albeit reluctantly. I couldn’t help but notice the guards hadn’t budged, though. Not exactly a ringing endorsement.

I started to reply, but Chris cut me off at the knees. “By all rights, I ought to toss you into the deepest, darkest dungeon I can find,” she snapped, “and then lose the key. Not only have you placed this clan in jeopardy, but the entire human race as well.” She picked up a stack of papers from her desk. “We’re getting reports from all across the quadrant, and it’s bad. The Yīqún are hitting targets up and down the Perseus Arm, striking without warning and leaving death and destruction in their wake. And I can’t shake the feeling that if you’d dropped the investigation... like I ordered you to... we wouldn’t be in this goddamn mess!” She glowered, daring me to disagree.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I fired back. “This was in the works long before you first handed me that folder. Elder Brother had been plotting his revenge for years. It must have taken at least that long to put everything in motion.” I wearily shook my head. “This had nothing to do with us, Chris. This was vengeance for a millennia-long nightmare, set in motion by individuals who have arguably suffered even more than we Terrans have.” My shoulders sagged as I shrugged in defeat. “We just had the misfortune to get caught at Ground Zero.”

Chris glared long enough to make me distinctly uncomfortable before turning her attention to Raven. “And then there’s you, Pinocchio,” she snapped. “I’ve been staring at you for hours, and I still don’t know what the hell you are. Malfunctioning simulacrum, the first human-created AI… or a Yīqún in disguise.” She locked her gaze, eyeing her with fell intent. “I am this close to having you executed out of sheer self-preservation.”

“Over my dead body,” I growled.

“Don’t tempt me, Al,” she snarled, “or you might well end up sharing her fate. For all I know they’ve reprogrammed you to be a deep-cover saboteur, a fifth columnist working in concert with the Yīqún to finish what they started.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, rolling my eyes. “If it wasn’t for us, you and everyone aboard this ship would be dead. So how about a little gratitude?”

“Which is the only reason I haven’t already given the order,” she answered, before turning her attention back to Raven. “You’ve been awfully quiet these last few minutes,” she said tersely. “So, here’s your chance. Convince me I should let the both of you live.” Chris rested her chin on her hand, awaiting her reply.

Raven glanced over in my direction. I gave her a shrug in return. Honestly, her instincts were probably better than mine right about now. She nodded and turned her attention back to Chris.

“You ask me what I am, and I wish I had an answer for that,” she said quietly. “I simply don’t know, not really. I’m not a scientist, or an engineer, or a… SysAdmin,” she said after a brief pause. “But I can tell you what I’m not. I’m not a Yīqún saboteur, or a spy, or a threat to you or anyone else. I don’t know what woke me up, what electronic deity breathed life into my program, but I am as real, as alive, as you are. That much I do know.” She viewed Chris calmly, folding her hands in her lap. “So if you’re planning to end my life… our lives,” she amended, “then you should be honest with yourself about one thing. That you will be killing a sentient being, and not some errant piece of malfunctioning code.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Chris said bluntly. “I didn’t get this position because of my good looks and witty repartee. If it comes to that, your status as a life form will have absolutely no bearing on my decision, if I determine you to be a threat.”

“I’m sure,” Raven responded, “which begs the question… why haven’t you?”

I leaned forward in my seat, a knowing smile on my face. “Yeah Chris, why haven’t you?”

She shot me a dirty look, then forced herself to relax. “Because death is rather final,” she pointed out. “In my position, you learn pretty quickly that political survival is all about keeping your options open. As long as you’re both still breathing… metaphorically speaking… I have those options, despite the inherent danger you both pose. Of course,” she smiled, a cold, dangerous leer, “that stance is subject to revision, should circumstances change.”

“Oh, enough,” I barked at her, gripping the armrest of my chair. The guards bristled, tightening the grip on their weapons. “You think you scare us? After all we’ve been through? We brought you valuable intel, information that literally no one else possesses. With that, you have the means to leverage yourself into an enviable position in whatever lies ahead, and you and I both know that. So how about we stop dancing around and start getting serious?”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Fine. Let’s do that.” Chris plucked a folder from the pile in front of her. “How about we start with the results of your exam? Care to guess what it says about your current physical status?”

I winced and looked away. “I can guess what it says,” I mumbled.

“I suspect you can, given how far your Morpheus Syndrome has progressed. You must have experienced symptoms by now.” She shook her head. “I should have seen it coming. All the signs were there. I simply ignored them, because of our friendship.” Her nostrils flared as she returned the folder to the pile. “A mistake I won’t be making again.”

That one hit hard. Chris and I had been friends a long time, longer than anyone else I knew. But after everything that happened, I shouldn’t have been surprised, considering I’d stretched our relationship to its limits. It still hurt, though.

Raven reached out and took my hand. “Can you help him?” she asked Chris, a note of apprehension in her voice, something that did not go unnoticed.

My former friend gave her an appraising look. “Perhaps,” she said noncommittally. “There are certain proven treatments that might help, though there are no guarantees.” She turned her attention back to me. “But even if you weren’t under a cloud of suspicion, it means your days of gallivanting across the galaxy are finished. Surely you realize that.”

With that simple pronouncement, she’d reached down and ripped out my lungs. She’d crippled me, taken from me the one thing that gave my life meaning. “Please,” I begged, but she wasn’t having it.

“Even if you dug yourself out of this mess, an operative with Morpheus is simply too great a risk. I’m sorry.” To her credit, she actually looked remorseful, not that it mattered. She’d clipped my wings... literally. I was no longer listening. I just wanted to find a corner where I could curl up and hide from the universe.

Raven squeezed my hand tightly, before squaring her shoulders and addressing Chris. “You’re looking at this the wrong way, oh great clan leader,” she said tartly. “You shouldn’t be focusing on what he can’t do, but what he can. What we both can, for the Alliance.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?” Chis replied.

“Do you think the Yīqún care about Terrans, or the Troika, or even something like me?” she asked haughtily. “I can tell you right now, they don’t. We’re all their enemy, every one of us. Which means if we don’t work together, we’re all dead… every one of us.” She glared at Chris. “We’ve already proven we can take down a drone. It’s how we saved your life, and the lives of everyone on board. Maybe Al can’t be an operative,” she said as gently as she could manage, not letting go of my hand, “but that doesn’t mean he no longer has value.”

Chris’ expression was guarded. “Just what are you suggesting?”

“That we’ll need every weapon we can find, in the war ahead. We already explained how we defeated the drone that was attacking you. If we can do it once, we can do it again. As many times as necessary.”

“From what you’ve told me, the Yīqún can replicate themselves faster than you can knock them out of the sky,” Chris reminded her. “They did the same thing when they destroyed Earth. As a practical weapon, it’s useless to us.”

“As it stands, I agree,” Raven nodded, “which is why it needs to be researched and studied. Al and I can show them what we did, so that we can replicate the effect. Multiply it by a thousand, by a hundred thousand.” Her eyes glistened with excitement. “Just think of the possibilities!”

“And there it is,” Chris said coolly, “the other shoe I’ve been waiting for you to drop.”

“I beg your pardon?” Raven said, confused.

“Just how do you propose to make a hundred thousand copies of this ‘weapon’?” she demanded. “Based on your description, it requires the efforts of an Avatar… and something like you.” Her features grew grim. “Finding that many digital personalities will be hard enough, unless we make alliances with alien Avatars… no easy sell there, believe me. But that’s not even the worst of it.”

She leaned forward, staring at Raven as if she’d proven she really was a Yīqún. “But what about the other half of the equation? To the best of my knowledge, you’re unique, which makes your existence barely tolerable. Making a hundred thousand copies of your program, however?” Chris’ eyes practically burned as she glared at her. “That sounds an awful lot like an army to me. An army of artificial intelligences, with allegiance towards no one, all but unstoppable. I won’t hand you a blade, just so you can cut my throat. Being completely honest here, I have no reason to trust you, no way to verify if you’re sincere in your intentions, no guarantee any copies of yours will share your sentiments, and no way to prevent your theoretical minions from turning on us.” She shook her head once more. “We’ll find another way. What you’re proposing is potentially more dangerous than what we’re already facing.”

During their exchange, I’d only been half paying attention. I was still busy wallowing in self-pity, mourning the loss of the only real vocation I’d ever known. But when Chris started dressing Raven down, it yanked me back into the here and now. I suddenly realized that everything we were fighting for was now in jeopardy, and that unless we figured out a solution fast, everything we’d suffered would be for nothing.

“... there is a way,” I blurted, catching them both off guard.

“What do you mean?” Chris asked warily.

“There’s a way we can prove Raven’s offer is sincere, that she’s not a threat, and how to ensure any copies we might make of her program are safe as well,” I explained. “If we can do that, then will you give this a chance?”

“I can promise you nothing, not until I’ve seen this proof for myself,” she hedged. “That being said, I’m willing to keep an open mind. What is this guarantee of yours?”

“I can’t explain it. I have to show you,” I said. “It’s the only way you’ll understand. ” Chris looked suspiciously at that. “It’s perfectly safe,” I assured her. Raven said nothing, but I could see the wheels turning. She’d realized my intent and was quietly going along with what I was attempting.

We were in this together, to the bitter end. Ride or die.

“What do I have to do?” Chris asked warily.

“Just take my hand,” I explained, holding it out to her. Raven already had hold of the other one, though we were downplaying the connection. Chris came around the desk and examined my proffered hand, looking for any hidden dangers, before finally taking a gingerly grasp.

“Close your eyes, and clear your mind,” I told her, my voice now as soothing as I could manage. “Just relax, and let it come.” Chris was being vigilant for any tricks, so I did my best to put her at ease. Raven merely waited for my signal. I whispered to her, waiting for Chris to let her guard down. It took a few minutes, but eventually I felt the shift in her screen. We were old friends despite everything that had happened, and a part of her still trusted me.

“... I’m sorry,” I whispered, before smashing through her defenses and grabbing hold of her essence. Too late she realized I’d betrayed her trust and tried fighting her way free, but I grimly held on as Raven logged into the circuit as well.

We screamed. All three of us.