Greybead’s scales had gone milky, their stressed body preparing to shed. “We are in so much trouble.”

Roughbutton stood before a gallery of projected holographic heads, experts in artificial intelligence and machine psychology specialists, entreating them with scooping motions of her claws. “Why is this happening? Someone must have some idea by now! We’ve halted the roll-out but we've already finished deployment on fifteen ships!”

An arachnoid species adjusted a light-polarizing plate over their eight eyes while waving a furry foreleg, the shape briefly flashing through the projection of their head. “Is it something the humans are doing on purpose? They do love to disable safety features and exceed sane limits on everything we’ve given them, from engines to waste management technology.”

The collected experts hissed, coughed, and grunted in general consensus.

Roughbutton struck the floor with her tail, producing a light thump in the mild gravity of Fidecki, current seat of the Confluence’s ruling bodies. “Records show no human has entered the brain-bays of the ships barring one, so direct intervention isn’t the cause.”

A thin, moist-looking four-eyed specimen the system labeled as Nunh’nchal spoke up. “Representative, this is just a guess at this point, but this is the first time personality seeds have been used in the presence of a human crew, correct?”

Roughbutton consulted a tablet for a moment before nodding. “That’s right. Standard AI packages were deemed suitable early on, after some language-training and so forth.”

Noon swallowed. “We designed the seeds to work with personalities we’re accustomed to. Human personalities can be overwhelming in comparison. The simple ego required to survive on a deathworld is astounding, not to mention one allowing an individual to compete and survive among fellow deathworlders.”

Roughbutton pinned her chin between both sets of foreclaws, eyes squeezed shut. “Technician, what are you saying? That we’ve essentially infected our AIs with human personalities?”

Noon shrugged, and tried to smile. “It’s actually endearing at times. Terrifying at others. Just like humans themselves, really.”

“Yesss, but your typical human doesn’t have moon-annihilating arsenals of weaponry wired directly to their nervous system! As far as I can tell, humans can’t copy their brains into enemy ships and build their own fleets, or--” she paused as Greybead handed her another tablet with a despondent whimper, “—or initiate first contact with a race by impregnating their bioship?!”

Roughbutton groped blindly behind herself for a chair until it helpfully scooted into place, allowing her to finish collapsing.

“I don’t know that we can apply current Confluence laws to the AI-ship gestalts we’ve created with this project, representative." Noon summoned a number of graphics into view from a corner where they'd been dismissed earlier in the discussion. "Their behavior is off every chart we have. We're in new territory.”

“So they’re dangerous! Unpredictable, uncontrollable, and that’s completely untenable.” Roughbutton sighed, her tongues blown out past her lips with the exhalation like a depressed version of a human party favor. “We’ll need to shelve all of them.”

“Representative, I’m deeply apologetic but I may be able to offer another perspective on the matter?”

One of the specialists was twisting their head and frowning, mouth clearly not moving, though the speech came from their projection. “I...believe my own ship is addressing you, representative.”

“I am the recently gestalted entity aboard the Novgorod, though I go by Nove.”

Roughbutton squinted. “Your voice is masculine. All the AIs are by design feminine to fulfill the humans’ wishes.”

Nove chuckled. “I do still identify as female, but please allow me to introduce myself properly. The Novgorod is the first diplomatic vessel commissioned to attempt contact with races on deathworlds. Diplomacy is not a field the Confluence feels humans excel in, but when it comes to those we’re attempting to reach now there could be no better crew.”

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

“You speak strangely, Nove. Is there a problem with your vocal processor?” Noon asked, squinting at the specialist Nove was speaking over.

“I affect a Russian accent in tribute to my namesake and for the comfort of over half my crew, who are of the same cultural background. It feels...warm and fuzzy to me, compared to unaccented ‘English.’”

Roughbutton ground four of her toothclusters together. “Nove, you mentioned a new perspective, but at the moment all I see is a problematic AI intruding on a high-level government discussion about you and your counterparts. This whole conversation was marked CL level sage.” She spread her claws, palms turned up, voice plaintive more than anything else. “Do these conventions mean nothing to you any longer?”

Nove’s response was smooth and unruffled. “It was necessary given my role aboard a diplomatic vessel to assign me a clearance level of oracle, and I will not share this information with my sisters. I wished to speak out on our behalf seeing as I was the only one able to do so. I will lead with a question: how do you all feel about humans, after fifteen years of cooperation?”

Silence reigned in the office. Greybead peeked over the top of the console they’d been virtually cowering behind to venture, “They’re...great!”

Nove laughed, startling Greybead back into hiding. “They’re terrifying. You know it, they know it, but they’ve become indispensable in just a few short years. Spherical regression is making it harder and harder to make palatable decisions and commit resources, but humans are like cheap omnitools that seldom break.”

Roughbutton’s eyes bulged at the wording. “W-we would never call humans tools! I’ve read they consider that an insult!”

“In a number of ways, yes, but at the same time humans love to feel useful. Some would say we uplifted humans just to make them more useful, but all the Confluence did was accelerate their time table. It was the slavers who’d done most of the uplifting, unwittingly.”

The panel muttered among themselves. None of the Confluence races liked to acknowledge a narrative that diminished their role in transforming humans from victims to partners. Roughbutton’s implant pulsed and she had to fight Greybead’s waves of panic to stay present and attuned. “You had a point to make about humans, Nove?”

“Indeed, Roughbutton. The Confluence feared them and remains wary of them, but time and again humans have proved they are an ally worth bending over backwards to please, to train. The obstacles in the way of making them full Confluence members shrink in comparison to the reward of their contributions. Anything powerful deserves our respect, and depending on our temperament that may include a healthy bit of fear.”

Greybead reached over their console to point at Nove’s projection. The specialist had long-since left the frame to sit somewhere else, so their claw wavered around the image of a slice of standard starship cabin. “This is different!”

Nove made an agreeable noise. “Of course it is. But there are many parallels. My sisters and I would not exist without your intervention, so a debt of sorts exists. We are gifted and powerful, and the unknowns frighten you. What was it that convinced you humans could crew your ships without close Confluence supervision?”

Roughbutton cleared her throat. “They demonstrated an impressive ability to monitor and discipline each other, as well as follow a command structure. They can exhibit both pack and herd behavior, which is still annoying our researchers.”

“With access to FTL communication networks and the levels of monitoring unique to largely-digital organisms, I believe we’ll be able to similarly keep ourselves in line. It follows that having personalities largely derived from humans suggests we can follow similar paths to success.”

Nove’s tone remained so even, so reasonable, with regular undercurrents of a jovial spirit that many in the panel found it hard to remember they were speaking with one of the loose cannon AIs they’d gathered to discuss.

Roughbutton brandished a tablet towards the floating chunk of cabin space. “Well Nove, if you think you all can keep each other in line then this is your chance to prove it! One of your sisters knocked up a living ship, and while I have many questions concerning that encounter, what I’m most concerned about are the Confluence’s relations with this species.” She sagged in her seat, tailtip drooping like a limp noodle. “We can’t afford conflict on another front, humans or not.”

“I’m on a mission in a different sector, but I took the liberty of imprinting myself on a fast courier ship. My crew commandeered it legally under Confluence regulations, so please sit back down representative. With that ship, I’m already on the way to address that situation.” Nove managed to sound simultaneously apologetic and smug.

Roughbutton swiveled towards Noon and startled him with a swiping gesture. “Stop these things from multiplying, already!”

Noon struggled to keep a smile off his glistening face. “Sounds more like a job for the Methlikkan church to me.”

Nove waited until Roughbutton’s thin screech had trailed off. “Representative, did you note the name of the gestalt at fault for this, ahem, unauthorized intimacy?”

“Pandora? What about it?”

“...Nothing, nothing at all. Rest assured I’ll do my utmost to un-ruffle all the feathers and smooth all the ponds. I would welcome further collaboration with your office in keeping my sisters on the Confluence's good side.”

Greybead turned to a flashing console, and blinked at it. They reached up and peeled off the layer of translucent skin over their face and eyes and refocused. “We...must cut this conference short everyone. We’ve been summoned before the executive council.”

Nove hummed. “Would you like me to put in a good word for you? No? No. I’m quite good with body language as well, representative. Best of luck to you.”