They only stopped long enough for Adan to pick up his weapons. Reyer didn’t comment when he holstered his e-pistol, but when he reached for one of the XM4’s, she called out from where she was leaning on her table.

“Don’t bother. They’ll all be bound.”

He picked up his sword instead.

“What is that thing?” she asked.

When he looked up, he saw her amused smile.

“It’s called a dao. Or it’s meant to be something like it. Can you walk?”

“Not fast.” She stood away from the table.

He noted how much blood had soaked her sleeve. “Will you let me help you?”

“I don’t have much choice.”

When he drew closer, she put her good arm over his shoulders.

They were out of the clearing and well into the woods when the blast roared behind them. Reyer stopped and looked back.

When she noticed Vas was watching her, she said, “We’re in less of a hurry now. I can walk on my own from here.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You’ll be a better look out without me hanging off you. You need access to that ridiculous Chinese machete in case there are bots. How much further to your ship?”

“We’re close. I landed down by the lake.”

Reyer nodded.

“How did you know it was Chinese?” Vas asked.

“You pick things up. I’ve never seen one before.”

“What can I say? I saw it. I liked it.”

It was the same smile lit with humor. “Of course.”

“What?” he demanded.

“Nothing. I’m probably giddy from blood loss.”

“It’s just a slightly longer machete!”

“You seem defensive.”

“It works.”

“I would hope so,” she said. Her smile faded. “I saw some of those soldiers. You’ve had that thing for a while?”

His hand wandered to the hilt. “Years.”

“Good.”

Adan shoved aside yet another branch and held it back as she passed. “We’re here.”

Reyer surveyed the small ship, then offered a curt nod.

They made their way over the clutter of rocks that defined the high lake’s shore. Alix almost fell to her knees when her foot slid, pulling exactly wrong on her back, but Adan caught her.

“You’re faint.”

“No. It’s…an old wound.”

As they neared the ship, the ramp lowered, half in the water, half on the shore. Vas held onto Reyer to keep her steady.

“Who’s on board?”

“My copilot.” He hesitated. “He’s kind of an auto-pilot.”

“You fly with a bot?”

But then it was there, in front of her. All six feet of it. It was tall like something the Supremacy would make, but otherwise it was like nothing she’d ever seen before. It stepped down the ramp as Adan helped her up.

“Welcome back, Captain. Sir, there is a concerning amount of blood on your clothes. Are you injured?”

“No. She is.”

“Are you the one known as Alix Reyer?” Its voice was still heavy with the automated accent of all bots, but it was also a higher pitch than the factory set. Not by much, but it was noticeable.

“Yes, this is her,” Adan said. He sounded impatient.

They limped past the robot. It walked up after them.

“How do you know, sir?” it asked.

“I know.”

“How do you know, sir?”

“Lynx! I just know.” Vas set her down on a seat across the deck, near a small porthole.

“Captain,” Lynx said, “are you familiar with the mental fallacy known as confirmation bias? I’m afraid your certainty may only be a product of your humanity, rather than reliance on confirmable facts.”

The two humans shared a glance.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“You’ve been having trouble with xenos, haven’t you?” Reyer asked.

Adan said, “We have to get out of here, or the sky will be crawling before we can get away.”

The robot turned to the captain as he sat down in the pilot’s seat. “We haven’t confirmed this woman is our target.”

“I know—” Adan began.

“Confirm it, bot!” Reyer yelled. “Vas can take off while you work.”

The robot’s head jerked up and down. “That is acceptable.”

Reyer felt the ship lift as the robot was scanning her eyes with his own.

“Retinal match confirmed.” It pulled out a hypodermic needle. “Blood sample—”

“Don’t be stupid, you pile of wires.” She reached out and grabbed the robot’s hand and put it in the wound on her arm. “Do you detect the heat and pulse?”

Once again the swift zeet-zeet as the robot looked her up and down. “Yes.”

“What’s the probability this blood is coming out of my body?”

“High.”

“Acceptably high, would you say?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then please collect it from there.”

She dropped her arm and leaned back on the rough metal wall. The robot filled a small vial, put it in his other hand between two fingers, then began to spin it at a tremendous rate.

“What’s your AI, bot?” Reyer asked.

“I’m Lynx, ma’am.”

“Oh? You are Lynx? I’ve never heard of you before.”

“That’s not surprising, ma’am. I am unique. I’m a specially developed single unit with my base program adapted from years of open-source collective software.”

“I’m amazed you run. So your name is Lynx, that’s not just your AI?”

“It’s both.”

“That’s almost a soul, bot.”

The robot needed a few seconds to process her statement. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“What a surprise. Do I have to call you Lynx as your wake-up command?”

“I’m rarely offline, ma’am, but if you must use a wake-word, I am programmed to respond to any and all common names that have been applied to me, and I’m capable of learning more.” He stopped spinning his hand and shut the vial up in a small recess in his chest cavity. “However, you are not the captain and not recognized as an authority figure in the Uprising, so I am not compelled to obey you.”

Reyer smiled. “If you were programmed by one person, are you familiar with the nickname ‘you stupid piece of shit?’”

“That was one of the first I learned to recognize.”

There was a snort of laughter from the cockpit.

They were well out of atmosphere by that time. Vas set the coordinates and autopilot before turning away from the instrument panel.

He came down the three steps that led from the cockpit to the main deck and stood beside his robotic copilot. “Well?”

Lynx stared out at nothing for a moment, processing. He turned to Adan. “DNA confirms she is former Sergeant Major, Miss Alix Avril Reyer.”

“And how do I know you are who you say you are, Lynx?” asked the now confirmed Alix Avril Reyer.

The robot turned to her. “Is that in question?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? For all I know, you could be nothing more than a tin can.”

“Impossible, Miss Reyer. I am made from light-alloy titanium.”

“How do you know, Lynx? Maybe your maker only told you that to make you feel better.”

“My maker is well aware that I have no actual emotions and need no reassurance.”

“Haven’t you heard of the mental fallacy known as anthropomorphism? I’ll bet you were programmed to respond to the personal pronoun ‘he.’”

“I was.” Despite the fact he had no actual emotions, she thought Lynx still sounded concerned.

Vas reached out and grabbed the robot’s arm. “She’s teasing you, Lynx. Go fly the ship. Keep us from hitting anything. You know how crowded space is.”

“Sarcasm registered. I was about to offer my services to tend her wound.”

“No, thank you, tinny,” Reyer said from behind him.

“I’ll take care of her,” Vas said. “You go fly the ship.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Adan reached above himself and yanked the first-aid kit down from where it was secured on the overhead. “His touch is more controlled and sensitive than you might think. I know he looks like a battle-bot, but he isn’t one. Not strictly.”

Reyer didn’t seem to hear him. She was too distracted by the sight out the porthole. P48 was slipping away.

“I’m sorry about your home—” he said, opening up the kit as he sat down on the bench nearby.

“Vas,” she interrupted, “if you’re having problems with xenos, why were you so sure it was me?” She ducked her head so she could see his face better. “You’re not one of those types who trust their feelings, are you?”

“No, ma’am,” he said. His voice was definite and final.

“Then what was it?”

There was a brief silence while Adan debated admitting that he had been almost fatally distracted while watching her fight or pointing out that there wouldn’t be many xenos who would think of wiring a bomb trigger to their field generator. Finally, he said, “I was watching your face when I gave you that chess piece.”

Whatever Reyer had been expecting, it wasn’t that. Her hand clenched around the knight.

“No one—not even a xeno—could fake that reaction.”

She stared at the chess piece in her hand as Vas cut the sleeve off her shirt and carefully pulled it away from the half-congealed mess.

He went on, “If I may ask, why a knight?”

“The general knew I would recognize it, and I would know it was her.”

That wasn’t what Vas had meant, but he had a feeling she knew exactly what he’d meant and had deliberately chosen to answer as she did. He decided to let it go. After cleaning and dousing the wound, he separated the closure from its backing and began rolling it over her arm.

“We’ll be able to drop into velox in another minute,” he said.

“We’re going to see the general?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Adan Vas, you do know I was forced to retire?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What’s your rank?”

He waited to answer until he had set the chemical seal. “I know it’s small, but it is my ship. Technically, I’m a captain.”

“I was only ever a foot soldier, Captain.”

He didn’t answer.

From the cockpit, Lynx said, “Technically, she is correct.”

“That’s one hell of a technicality,” Vas muttered.

“I’m guessing you know my age. So tell me, am I that much older than you?”

“You’re not older than me,” he said, putting away the medical supplies. “I have you by roughly three months.”

“So we’re cutting it close, but you’re still my senior?”

He stood to put away the kit. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Then why do you keep calling me ma’am, Captain?”

Adan looked at her for a while. “Are you always this difficult?”

“Usually.”

Lynx spoke up: “‘Ma’am’ is an Old Earth term of respect for females, commonly but not exclusively applied to women of marriageable age. While it was sometimes used to convey a sense of subservience, its most universal historical application has been when the preferred cognomen was uncertain.”

“There you have it. The bot gets it,” Adan said, motioning to his copilot. “It’s a term of respect when I don’t know your preferred cognomen—which I have to assume means ‘name.’”

“My name is Reyer.”

“Not Alix?”

“My first name was Sergeant. But that was years ago. Now I’m just Reyer, Captain. And not ma’am. Not from you. Nothing good ever comes from an officer being respectful.”

The captain stifled his laugh. He handed her the two pills he’d been holding throughout their exchange.

“Iron shots?”

“Yes,” he said. “They’ll make—”

“—me nauseous? I know. Not my first fight, Captain. Is there a blanket on this runner?”

Adan had already bent down to get one.

“Don’t even think about offering to tuck me in, Vas.” She took it.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Reyer.”

“That’s not what your smile said.”

They both turned at the sound of the small chink of metal.

Lynx was sitting in the copilot’s chair, a broken hypodermic needle in his hand. “I have deduced I am most likely titanium. If I was tin, there would have been a scratch.”

The captain pulled himself up the stairs with one giant step. He dropped into the seat on the left. “She got you to stab yourself already? Careful, Lynx. She’s getting into your head.”

“Concerning.” There was a veee-vou as he looked down at the controls, then back at the captain. “Is she getting into yours?”

“Shut up, Lynx.”

“Yes, sir.”