Subject: Drone N436Z984A026 [AKA Naza]

Species: Unknown

Species Description: Humanoid

Ship: Grand Vessel of the Universal Omni-Union

Location: Grand Shipyard of the Universal Omni-Union

The implants in my arms, legs, and neck buzzed to awaken me from my charging cycle. As usual, I didn't feel rested at all. Haven't felt rested since my childhood. I've almost forgotten what it feels like.

My charging bay's screen moved in front of my face to inform me of what this cycle's tasks would be. I barely glanced at it as I began to unplug myself. What I caught in that brief glance made me pause, though.

The screen didn't have a maintenance assignment for me this time. The various tasks that I had become accustomed to the past few dozen cycles had been replaced with just one singular task. Antigravity generator repair.

Not maintenance or replacement, repair. Meaning that the generator is damaged. My abdominal wall clenched in trepidation. Antigrav work is the most dangerous task aboard the Grand Vessel.

One mistake, made by anyone working on the generator, could launch you into the void at mind-boggling speeds. And that's the best-case scenario. There are many other creative and painful ways that an antigrav generator can kill a drone.

The tightness in my gut got worse when I came to the realization that something had happened to this generator. The manufacturing process is fully automated and goes through several quality checks before installation, which means this had to have been an accident. I couldn't help but wonder how many drones had died.

If the Minds would just let us rest a little bit more, these accidents could be avoided. More drones and fewer shifts would allow us to approach our tasks with unclouded minds. Why can't they see that?

A slightly pleasant sensation spread through my brain-stem. The triggering of the inhibitor that I repurposed was starting to become a morning routine of mine. I gathered my nerve and finished disconnecting from my bay.

My neighbor waved at me, and I absentmindedly returned it. Her brief pause demonstrated an understanding to my situation. It's funny, we've hardly ever said more than a few words to each other. She seemed sad to see me go, though.

I cursed under my breath as I left the dormitory. This cycle's work isn't going to be mindless. Everyone assigned to this is going to have to be completely alert and active the entirety of the assignment. We might even have to use mobile charging to get it done.

Lost in thought, I made my way to the shuttle and pressed myself into its overcrowded confines. The familiar prodding of flesh and metal wasn't a comfort to me, so I shifted to get a view through the oxygen retention field. The twinkling stars greeted me, and I found myself longing to visit them. If only they weren't so far, far away.

I briefly wondered which of us would perish first. If nothing goes wrong and we get the antigrav generator back online, I might survive another few more thousand years. Will the Omni-Union capture those stars in that time? Will the glimmering lights be ripped apart to supply the materials necessary for the completion of the Grand Vessel before I perish? I hope not.

The jolt of the shuttle docking brought me back to reality. The retention field deactivated with a harsh hiss and I wriggled my way out of the throng of bodies. An unfamiliar dock greeted me, which didn't help my nervousness.

What am I afraid of? Dying? The only motivation I have to live is my fantasies of freedom, and fantasies are all they are. If I rebelled, the security forces would get me before I made any sort of difference. Even if I decided to try to flee instead, the shuttles can't get far enough away for me to escape.

On the off-chance that I found a fully-fledged ship with a FTLD to steal, I wouldn’t know where to take it. Most planets are uninhabitable. Plus, I would have to refuel before I even reached the nearest galaxy. The only refueling stations in the Expansive Void belong to the Omni-Union.

Even if by some miracle I managed all of that, defying the odds to the point of impossibility, I would have to keep running for all eternity. The Minds intend to use every molecule that they can to build the Grand Vessel. Nowhere is safe.

"Hey Hfkilno {philosopher, derogatory}, get moving," a familiar voice laughed from behind me.

"I'm not just lost in thought, Nizi," I laughed back. "I don't know where to go. Forgot to download the navigation data."

Nizi's lower jaw cracked open in a grin, but there was a measure of concern in all three of his eyes.

"You're on the antigrav generator too?"

I nodded in reply.

"Well, I'm in a good mood so I'll lead you there," he said, gesturing for me to follow him.

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"A good mood?" I asked with faux astonishment as I followed him. "Even with today's task? How could this be?"

"Well, I could live without today's job... But I got my music back!"

"How?"

"My mates have been saving their pay for a while, to get me a present. I-" he paused, choking up a bit. "They're good girls. I don't deserve them."

"Yeah," I agreed with a chuckle, trying not to remember my own mates. "So, they got you an authorized music player?"

"Super authorized. Don't tell them, but I don't like it as much as the other one," Nizi dug into his pocket and pulled out the device. "It automatically connects to a network so that it can interrupt the music with announcements and stuff. They also censor what can be played on it, so I can't listen to some of my favorite songs anymore."

"That's annoying."

"You're tellin' me. Plus, you have to actually pay for the songs. Wouldn't mind so much if the musicians were getting paid too, but a lot of the ones I listen to are either long dead, or drones like us."

"Right, so anything they make belongs to the Minds."

"Yeah. Seems like only the minds are making money these days."

Before I could add that this isn't anything new, we arrived at the room containing the antigrav generator. We paused for a brief moment, collecting ourselves for what was bound to be a stressful cycle. Or many cycles, if our fortunes fell ill.

"Well, let's get to work," Nizi sighed.

We walked through the automated door and found several other drones waiting for us. This wasn't unexpected, as having Nizi and I work on the generator ourselves would be extremely stupid, even by the Mind's standards. Nods and waves were exchanged as the foreman gestured at thin air, interacting with his readout.

"Alright, here's the basics of what happened," the foreman said. "The reactor next door had a meltdown and managed to blast its way into this room, damaging the antigrav generator."

The foreman gestured to a gaping hole in the wall for emphasis.

"Last cycle's shift was able to finish scrubbing the radiation, so you're clear to start putting things back together."

"Last cycle's shift? Why aren't they working on this instead of us?" Nizi asked.

"Because they cleaned up the radiation..." the foreman trailed off and gave Nizi a pointed look. "They won't be cleared for duty again for quite some time."

"Oh, right... Yeah..."

An involuntary shudder ran up my spine. Radiation sickness can be very, very fatal. Even if it isn't, pretty much all of your mechanical parts have to be replaced and you'll also need a lot of medical care. Granted, you don't have to work while being treated, but that's not what I would call a vacation.

"We'll be restoring the structural integrity of this room as well as repairing the antigrav generator. I think going half and half should do it. Check your readouts for your individual assignments, and if you get done earlier than expected, help your neighbor."

I swallowed heavily, hoping that my assignment would be to fix the wall, floor, or ceiling. Unfortunately, a holographic screen that only I could see appeared in my vision and informed me that I would have to endure the immense pressure of working on the antigrav generator. Silently cursing my readout, I looked at Nizi for comfort. But he was also looking ill.

"You get the generator too?" I asked.

"Y-yeah. Wait, you're on it?" he asked excitedly. "Awesome! I was worried that I'd fuck up."

"We still might."

"Nah, you're way more competent than I am."

"Alright, get to work everyone!" the foreman shouted.

The small crowd that had formed dispersed at the foreman's order. Nizi and I, along with a couple of other drones, approached the antigrav generator trepidatiously. It had been shut off so that it could be repaired, which meant that the supports would be under strain. Well, maybe not. They've probably brought a few portables online to ease the strain.

Following the guidance of my readout, I began to open panels and scan the internal workings. The readout began detecting faults in the machine's intricate circuitry, and once the count passed a hundred I sighed deeply. This'll definitely take more than one cycle.

"How's it looking?" Nizi asked.

"Terrible," I muttered. "And I'm not even done scanning, yet."

Nizi's jaw opened in disbelief, but he quickly snapped it closed and walked to the other side of the generator. I kept scanning until I got a good idea of what happened. The blast from the reactor damaged certain parts which caused further parts to get damaged as the generator continued to run. Simple, really...

Fixing it was far more complex. I began pulling boards that needed repairs and sorting them according to the readout's instructions. One of the other assigned drones began to pick up the boards and work on them. The other drone followed Nizi.

Once I had removed every board except the safety controller, I had a look at the cables. What I saw made my artificial hearts skip a beat. A massive chunk of the cables had merged together.

Not melted together, merged. The atoms of the objects hadn't gone through nuclear fusion, but had been so excited that the structural integrity of the cables had been compromised enough to allow them to slip inside each other. Our repair tools cause a similar phenomenon, but there's only one explanation for it happening 'naturally'.

The generator had begun to go overcritical.

"By the void," a voice came from behind me.

I turned to look at my helper. Drone Z831H369X045, according to my readout. Young, very young. Less than a century old, judging by her tech.

"The shut-off happened just in time," I replied. "How much do you know about anti-gravity generators?"

"Plenty. Been doing maintenance on them for about four hundred cycles," she answered. "Long enough to know that if that had gone overcritical, everything around us would have been ejected into the void at about half the speed of light."

"Or worse."

"Worse?"

"Yes, it could have pulled everything in its field to a central location at half the speed of light," I explained. "Which would cause all sorts of trouble. If we were lucky, it would just cause some nuclear fusion explosions that would have destroyed a significant portion of this level. If we were unlucky, it could have caused a singularity."

Her third eye puckered and her jaw clacked together in concern.

"I... I didn't know that was a possibility," she said.

"Yeah, they removed that from the training materials about fourteen thousand cycles ago," I explained. "Guess the thought of sending a singularity flying around the Grand Vessel was too appealing to some of the more rebellious types. So, you got a name?"

"Everyone calls me Forty-Five. Or Forty for short. You?"

"I'm Naza. Good to be working with you."

"Same."

With a nod, I turned my attention back to the generator. The cables were a bust and would need to be replaced, but the casing was fine for the most part. A few dents and cracks needed mending, but that's an easy fix. I pulled away a mass of cables and another board, then a glimmer caught my eye.

It had been a long time since I'd seen an antigrav generator's core. When it's inert, it looks like a ball of gray metal. But when it's active, it looks like a mesmerizing marble made entirely of light. I stared at the slash of light dancing in the ball of metal for a moment, transfixed by how beautiful it looked. Then I keyed my emergency comms.

"Evacuate!" I shouted.