Dav sat down and placed his hands on his knees, back straight.
They went over this with all pilots extensively in basic, advanced, and on specialized courses – sure, the chances of surviving the destruction of your fighter were small in a chaotic orbital fight in relative speeds, much less in hypersonic speeds in atmosphere, but it did happen.
They were taught about survival, evasion behind enemy lines, living of the land, and of course – interrogation.
Dav had no doubt he was prisoner; he was escorted with armed guards, denied access to his ship, and initially got into this damn mess because he got yanked out of space because of this arrogant sphere that was currently bobbing next to the admiral hologram’s head.
For all he knew, he could be in some freaky VR torture cellar where he’d be squeezed dry from any and all information he could provide.
Dav’s paranoid delusions were soon interrupted, however.
“So,” started the Custodian, “Allow me to officially welcome you aboard this vessel. Its name cannot be pronounced by your physiology, but you may use the closest translation in your primitive language – you are on board the Resurrection, the last and greatest work of a people you have never known. This vessel has drifted throughout space for eons. Its task is not for you to know.”
Dav took a few moments to process this information.
Aliens.
An honest to the gods first contact scenario.
Dav swallowed, and asked the big question on his mind.
“So, am I a prisoner? Are you going to keep experimenting on my body? I know you did something to my implants – I can’t use any of their systems ever since I woke up, and I very much dislike it when someone goes around poking in my body without permission!”
Which of course, came out as a whiny complaint which he dumped on the alien sphere-thingy on the other side of the table.
‘So much for first contact’ Dav thought.
The holographic admiral remained stone-faced under Dav’s reaction, and responded.
“You are not a prisoner, Human. In accord with the intergalactic spacefaring intelligent species treaty to which this vessel is beholden, you are an invited guest. As for your self-induced deformities, I had them removed. The one in your brain organ was placing accumulating pressure aggravated by high-g turns that would end your life within five years by rupturing a major blood vessel. The ones attached to your various organs were actively fighting, and losing, against rapid runaway self-replicating cellular tumor tissues induced by the very same ‘implants’, as you described those crude articles.
“In according with the treaty, experimentation and mutilation of any intelligent higher life-form is forbidden, and any such cases are to be reported and rectified on the spot. Your modifications were replaced with standard nanite swarm-slave arrays. I have also taken to rectify some of the errors in your genetic code – Your species relies on redundancy overly much, and a good amount of your genetic data was damaged by what I could only assume to be inadequate radiation shielding.”
Hearing this, Dav shot up – “You did WHAT?! Listen, I don’t know what the hell is this nano-swarm-something-or-other, but what do you think gives YOU the right to mess around with my goddamn DNA like some, some sort of – LAB RAT! I’m not your gods-damned TOY!”
The Custodian did not seem impressed by Dav’s protest, judging from the lack of reaction – or perhaps it simply lacked the understanding in regards to human behavior to process what was happening.
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Regardless, it waited for the human to finish his outburst, and responded.
“Your reaction is understandable, expected, and familiar – many inferior species react the same way prior to uplifting. Understand this – We are about to discuss something much more important than your simple life, or even my own existence.”
“And what do you mean by that?” huffed Dav – the cocky beach-ball was wearing thin on his nerves; he’d spike the damn thing into the floor if it weren’t for the two bodyguards near the door.
“The Heart of this Vessel is dying.”
Dav raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean by that? It’s just a ship – it isn’t alive or anything to begin with, just a machine.”
And so was the beach ball, but Dav wasn’t feeling very politically correct anymore.
The hologram of the Admiral let loose a frustrated sigh, the gesture apparently common between humanity and whatever species built this vessel and it’s Custodian.
“This Vessel is very much alive, same as you – and while I am indeed a machine, I am a self-aware, thinking Artificial Intelligence. You may keep your organic biases to yourself. As for the Vessel, It was damaged during an engagement which ruptured its power source. The gravitational waves resulted in the warping of the keel on the quantum level, disabling of major system, and loss of most backup systems. The Vessel currently operates on an improvised backup generator which will die in a few hundred years – that is, until you came along.”
“Hold on, are you saying it’s my fault that you’re about to run out of power? What the hell did I do?!”
“You did not DO anything – however, the intergalactic spacefaring intelligent species treaty binds this Vessel still, and demands providing succor to any and all distressed vessel. The tortured leaking raft you drifted on registered as such, activating recovery protocols hard-coded into the system and draining most of the remaining power for your rescue and medical treatment. This Vessel now has less than one of your standard ‘years’ to operate before Dying.”
“Well, thanks for the help, and I am sorry to hear that, but I don’t really understand what you want from me exactly – The most I know about ship repair and quantum mechanics boils down to patching up human tech in emergencies and how to use a Quantum Entanglement Communication Array – and I sure as hell don’t know how the damn thing works.”
Hearing this, the sphere let out an honest-to-goodness laugh, coming out as a mechanical barking.
“Well? What’s so funny?”
“You thought this Vessel requires your assistance in repairs? I would not have you come near the systems in a million years with your primitive tools – I had not had such a laugh in a very long time.
“No, what this Vessel requires is the primitive micro-singularity device in the hold of your raft.”
Dav felt his stomach turn and his temple began throbbing.
He’d turned on his unit to get his hands on the damn thing, heisting it in what was a mix of blind luck, bumbling coincidences and sheer stupid determination. He flung himself into unknown space with the damn thing, and for all he knew, was about to die for it – alone, in cold space, with nothing but the stars, the goddamn type-13 rations, and the sound of leaking atmosphere as company.
And the damn alien wanted it.
Sure, it was useless to him, but at this point, Dav was just feeling fed up with the situation.
The goddamn beach-ball berates him, toys around with his body like the Navy never dared, then wants the only thing He still had outside his own self?
“I realize that considering how you have the firepower advantage with these two near the door, I might not have much of a choice, but I am NOT giving you the damn reactor. After all I went through to get the damn thing, and considering I’ll probably never see my home again, I think I’d rather die cuddling it. At least your cocky spherical ass won’t get it.”
The sphere remained silent for a few minutes then suddenly, a three-dimensional map display came up above the two parties’ head.
The holographic map displayed several star clusters in one side, and to the other, the naval map from Dav’s bomber-turned-lifeboat.
“This Vessel, with the aid of your ‘reactor’, could finish essential repairs, and reach its destination. One It achieves this, it would be possible to locate and reach your home. This will not be quick, and the Task takes priority above all else, this Vessel will sign a contract and commit to repatriating you to your home – if you were to provide It with your ‘reactor’.
“As for simply disposing of you – this was considered. However, due to your guest status and the statutes of the Treaty, an invited guest shall not be harmed on board the host Vessel, and that goes double for recovered stranded personnel. This Vessel shall not separate you from your property – It is not a ‘pirate’, as you would describe it.”
“And yet, you offer me a slow death in a dying ship, or a ticket home that would cost all I have. It doesn’t seem like I have much choice, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps not”, agreed the Custodian “But you never the less must choose. This Vessel will Die before you will. As much as I regret this, I must ask for you to decide, and request that you consider agreeing to the above conditions.”