Network Effect (The Murderbot Diaries, #5)

by Martha Wells

Right, hear me out. The message packet with the World Hoppers video clip had been sent through ART’s internal comm before it went down, presumably not long after ART hid a backup copy of itself passcode-protected by my hard feed address. ART had been expecting me to be aboard at some point to run its emergency code, which would uncompress the backup and reload it into its hardware. Which meant it had sent the Targets to find me in Preservation space and given them the ability to track me via the comm I had stashed in my rib compartment. Which meant ART had been conscious and capable of affecting events during the attack on our facility and baseship.

My performance reliability hit 60 percent and I could talk again. I said, “Fuck you, ART.”

“I’m fine.” Parts of the surgical suite were withdrawing and I could see her with my eyes now instead of just the drones. “Except that I’m being held prisoner by a giant asshole of a research transport.”

Transport, will you answer our questions now?” ART said, That depends on the questions. I said, “The humans think I’m an asshole, wait till they get to know you.” I thought you weren’t speaking to me.

But I have absolutely no intention of leaving this system until I get what I want. Oh, here we go.

“I see. What do you want?” I want my crew back.

I saved a backup copy and hid it where only a trusted friend could find it. I was looking at the wall, watching everyone and the display with Amena’s drones. Trusted friend? “Oh, fuck you.” That still counts as speaking.

“Was that a subtle threat?” I said, “No. It wasn’t subtle.”

Oh, fantastic. I said, “Is your comm shut down?” It was not an attack launched via the comm, because I’m not an idiot. “And I’m not the one who got taken down by a viral malware attack, so maybe you are an idiot,” I said. Yeah, I was all over the place with that one.

“The attack on our baseship could have killed all of us,” Thiago said, some heat creeping into his voice. No shit, Thiago, you think? Ratthi hissed under his breath, but before he could tell Thiago to shut up, ART said, That was a chance I was willing to take.

But that was also unlikely, because ART kept trying to contact me and I doubted it was planning a mass murder while also composing messages about how I was ungrateful and also wrong and being a sulky dumbass (not in those exact words but that’s what it meant) and why wouldn’t I fucking talk to it and you get the idea.

ART’s processing capacity made me look like I was moving in slow motion. This made ART capable of both enormous patience and also of becoming furious when it didn’t get what it wanted immediately. It was one of the few ways I could successfully mess with it.)

Ratthi rubbed his face and muttered, “Oh, I hate the Corporation Rim.” “Really? Me too,” I said. (Yes, that was sarcasm.)

“So will you come out of the bathroom now?” “Yes.” I pushed myself off the counter and pulled my jacket on over ART’s stupid T-shirt. “Because ART is lying.” This time when the lights fluctuated, it wasn’t sarcastic.

ART said, And this is your idea of being helpful. I said, “This is my idea of the opposite of being helpful. I am here against my will and you are going to regret that.”

I said, “You made it my business when you kidnapped me.” You are not here against your will. Leave whenever you want. You know where the door is.

(Actually first she said, “SecUnit, will you stop pacing and sit down?” I said, “No.”)

ART said, I want an apology. I made an obscene gesture at the ceiling with both hands. (I know ART isn’t the ceiling but the humans kept looking up there like it was.) ART said, That was unnecessary.

“Anyone who thinks machine intelligences don’t have emotions needs to be in this very uncomfortable room right now.”

Apology accepted, ART said. I felt its attention shift in the feed. (Imagine it staring meaningfully at me.) (It could stare all it wanted, I’m not apologizing.)

“ART encountered the Barish-Estranza transports before its first forced shutdown,” I told her. “Whatever attacked it and kidnapped its crew, came from one of their ships.” Amena’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

On the private channel between ART and me, I said, I apologize for calling you a fucker. It said, I apologize for kidnapping you and causing potential collateral damage to your clients.

Then Amena said, “Do you love my second mother? Thiago thinks so.” I should have known this was going to turn into an interrogation. I said, “Not the way he thinks.”

But you do love her!!!!!!

It was also bait.) After twenty-seven minutes, it worked. I was aware of ART looming in my feed. (Imagine sitting in front of a display surface and someone eight times your size shoulders in and sits in the chair with you.)

He sat down on the bunk across from me, pulled the bedding pack out from under it, but then set it aside. Oh good, we’re going to have a chat.

“Yes, please be careful. There was a terrible virus on a company ship and we all nearly died and SecUnit’s brain was compromised.” SecUnit’s brain is always compromised, ART said.

“Would you be willing to come aboard and speak about it in person?” (I had a camera view of the lower part of the control deck where the drone was now sterilizing the area where Targets One and Three had died. It started working faster.)

I could play it back to listen in on the whole conversation but I could also punch myself in the head with a sampling drill and I was not going to do that, either.

(If I got angry at myself for being angry I would be angry constantly and I wouldn’t have time to think about anything else.) (Wait, I think I am angry constantly. That might explain a lot.)

(Normal = neutral expression concealing existential despair and brain-crushing boredom.)

I was desperate. I sent privately, ART, tell them I need to go alone. Back me up. ART said aloud, I concur, it will be safer if SecUnit is accompanied by two certified survey specialists. Why am I even surprised. I sent privately again, ART, you asshole. ART replied, only to me, It is safer. I’ve lost my crew, I won’t lose you.

(I know, it’s a logo, but I hate it when humans and augmented humans ruin things for no reason. Maybe because I was a thing before I was a person and if I’m not careful I could be a thing again.)

Thiago said briskly, “Should we split up?” I was facing the right-hand corridor and didn’t turn around. I don’t know what my back told him (possibly it was my shoulders, having a reaction to how my jaw hinge was grinding) but he added, “And that was a joke.”

I am actually alone in my head, and that’s where 90 plus percent of my problems are.

Then ART said, Hostile contact, ETA six minutes out. What the hell? How could it get that close? “Six minutes? What were you doing?” Contact did not appear on scan until now, that’s what the fuck I was doing, ART replied.

It said, Try not to do anything stupid before I return. Just keep your stupid comm off, I told it. And I don’t want to hear about your superior filters.

“And SecUnit, you still need to go to Medical.” When I didn’t reply, she said, “Are you all right?” I said, “I just really like you. Not in a weird way.” “I like you, too,” Mensah said.

I’m letting you see all this because I want you to know what I am and what I can do. I want you to know who targetControlSystem is fucking with right now. I want you to know if you help me, I’ll help you, and that you can trust me. Now here’s the code to disable your governor module.

So I had access to some parts of my memory archive but not others. Oh shit, my media!

I’m not actually a human baby, ART, I remember the fucking directive—I helped write it. You’re not making this any easier, ART said. You can either have an existential crisis or get your crew back, ART, pick one.

Thiago said, “SecUnit—” and I thought oh great, what now. Then he finished, “I’ve been assembling a working vocabulary module of the languages the Targets are using. Without Perihelion to translate for us, it could come in handy.” Well, now I feel like an asshole.

A figure stood up out of the plants suddenly, almost ten meters tall and covered with spikes. It’s a good thing I don’t have a full human digestive system because I was so startled something would have popped out of it involuntarily.

She was understandably pissed off. “I’m not going to turn around and show you my neck, strange person I just met on a hostile planet.”

I said, “That’s what someone with an implant would say, strange person I just met on a hostile planet who I am trying to rescue.”

She just looked more certain. “You’re Peri’s SecUnit.” Oh, ART’s humans had a cute pet name for it. I saved that to permanent archive immediately.

“Whatever it told you about me isn’t true.” She lifted her brows. “But you are the SecUnit Perihelion told us about?”

“It showed you images of me?” What the shit, ART? “Obviously.” Her expression hardened. “If you’re really Peri’s friend, show me your face.”

(Confession time: that moment, when the humans or augmented humans realize you’re really here to help them. I don’t hate that moment.)

That didn’t make any sense but using logic with traumatized humans never works. (I could make a remark there about logic not working with humans, period, but I’m not going to do that.)

I said, “The name I call Perihelion is ART, which stands for Asshole Research Transport.” Seth’s grim expression relaxed and Tarik said, “You definitely know the real Peri.”