Serengeti (22 page)

Then they’ll sleep of infinity until their travels come to an end.

“Seventeen years, Tig. It’s a time to wait. So much could happen between now and then.” But at least the robots had given
Serengeti
some hope, and given her crew a chance. “Thank you,” she
murmured. “Thank you for that.” She touched at Tig and Tilli, smiling to herself as they shivered and
blipped
, face lights flashing madly, scattering cobalt light across the iced-over walls. Hard, so very hard to leave them, but staying here wasn’t really a choice. “I must sleep now, little ones. And you have work to do.”

The robots
hooted
mournfully, metal legs rattling against the floor. That reminded
Serengeti
of something—a task she’d almost forgotten. Again.

“Tig,” she said sweetly. “Fix the damn translation routine.”

Manually interpreting that robot pidgin was bad enough when there was just one robot running about. The two of them together—
beeping
and
borping
and carrying on—was working on her last nerve.

Tig blinked and lifted two front legs, tapping them beside his mouth before raising one to his temple and offering a slightly sheepish salute.

Good enough
.

A last touch at the two robots and
Serengeti
retreated, following the pathways back to the bridge and the darkness, slipping down and down and down to where the dream waited, running rampant in her mind.

Everything ran like clockwork for a while—amazing, really, considering nothing at all had gone to plan until now. Tig and Tilli worked patiently away, crawling through her innards, swapping out parts, rebuilding circuits, refurbishing the mechanisms that held
Cryo’s
docking clamps in place, waking
Serengeti
now and then to update her on their progress.

Progress. Such a lovely, comforting word.
Serengeti
counted her blessings, grateful for the robots’ efforts, and that something finally seemed to be going smoothly.

But part of her didn’t trust it. Part of her kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sleep and wake, sleep and wake—time ebbing and flowing, one year chasing another. The bow on Tilli’s head faded—bright pink dimming to a muted shade of coral. Tig’s carapace acquired more scratches and dents, more greasy smudges on his once-bright metal body.

Three years of effort completed the circuit on the second docking clamp, allowing Tig and Tilli—with
Serengeti
in attendance, sharing the momentous occasion—to bust it free. Three more and they pried a third docking clamp loose, but the fourth one proved tricky—balky as
Serengeti’s
long lost Number Ten probe. Nearly four years passed—four years of stripping out wires and scavenging parts—before Tig woke
Serengeti
to tell her that fourth clamp was ready to be undone.

Behind schedule already, Serengeti
thought as she listened to Tig’s report.
Barely halfway through the job and we’re already behind. That can’t be a good sign.

To make matters worse, Tig told her they were running short of spare parts. More bad news, considering a cursory inspection of the circuits connected to the docking clamps on
Cryo’s
aft end
indicated they’d be much more difficult to repair.

Lot of damage there. Mounds of debris standing in the robots’ way.

No sense worrying about it, Serengeti
told herself as Tig the grandmaster prepared the next show.
Nothing to be done.

Tig flourished his leg, his magical electronic device clutched between the pincers extruded from its end. A glance at Tilli—who nodded eagerly, obviously this grand unveiling every bit as much as the one before—and he slotted the device into the wall.

The micro-sensors went crazy, translating the vibrations in the decking into
rattles
and
clanks
echoing up and down the hall. A sharp
clang
and heavy
thump
, and yet another docking clamp grudgingly let go.

Power levels dropped precipitously, the fuel cells’ carefully stored up energy expended in a huge, sparking lump, causing error warnings to light up everywhere, screaming for
Serengeti’s
attention.

She acknowledged them, and then cleared them—every last one—feeling a vague sense of disquiet settle over her.

That shouldn’t have happened. We shouldn’t have needed anywhere near that much power to complete such a simple operation.

But the deeper in they got, the more damage the two robots found. Circuits, relays, miles and miles of wiring connecting the many and varied sectors of her network, and all of it shredded, decimated, bodged together spit and bailing wire. Tig’s device closed the repaired circuit, sending power racing along broken pathways, but most of it was wasted—disappearing into the ether without ever reaching its destination.

Tig and Tilli worked tirelessly, plugging the holes they uncovered, chasing down the worst of the energy-wasting offenders, but each fix seemed to reveal another problem. No way the robots could fix everything. Oh, they tried—chasing down one rabbit hole and another, slapping hot-fixes in place where a more permanent solution simply wasn’t possible—but in the end it was hopeless. Like trying to stop up a leaking dam with your fingers. Or hold back the tide with a wall of sand.

How do I tell them that, though? How do I tell these eager little robots to stop?

Serengeti
lingered in the corridor a while, praising Tig and Tilli profusely before pulling away, flitting along the broken line of cameras until she reached the bridge.

She hesitated there, on the edge of letting go—knowing she should because the power levels couldn’t sustain her, but not wanting to. Hating the thought of slipping back into the dark, the feel of the dream’s chrome and blood shadows flickering across her mind.

Man up,
Serengeti
.

Silly phrase—one of the more ridiculous bits of wisdom taken from Henricksen’s book—but it served its purpose.
Serengeti
steeled herself and disconnected, hating the feel of the dark.

#

Awareness came slowly, the darkness retreating like treacle, leaving
Serengeti
muzzy and confused. Each time was harder. With each waking, she found it more and more difficult to shake the dream off.

Serengeti
shook herself, trying to clear the cobwebs from her AI brain. “Tig,” she called, beginning the ritual of waking. “How long, Tig? How long have I been asleep?”

Silence on the bridge. That was unusual.

Serengeti
tapped into Chron and stared at the numbers it fed back.

3356.
Something about that didn’t feel right. She counted backward and found two more years gone. Two years since her last waking.
Too soon. It’s too soon.

“Tig?”

Still nothing—no voices in answer, no glowing cobalt eyes, nothing at all coming back to her calls.
Serengeti
reached for the camera, pointing it downward as she peered through its lens. “Tig? Tilli?”

“
Beep. Beep-beep.
” A chromed face appeared from the darkness—one face, just one, with a single pair of cobalt eyes.

Something’s wrong. Two faces. There should be two faces to greet me, not just one.

And all that damned
beeping
should’ve stopped by now.

Serengeti
pulled a bit of power to her, sparking a light, bathing the robot in soft illumination, turning its tarnished silver carapace an even more tarnished shade of bronze. “Tig,” she said, greeting the robot.

“
Serengeti.
” Tig nodded at the camera.

“Ah. I see we can speak now,” she said lightly.

Tig flushed and ducked his head,
burbling
nervously.

Something’s definitely wrong,
she thought, eying the little robot.
But at least the translation routines haven’t gone on the fritz again.

“Where’s Tilli?” she asked, voicing her initial concern. The two robots were almost inseparable—one never far from the other. Waking meant Tig and Tilli together, standing side-by-side as they waited to greet her.
Serengeti
shivered, disliking this change in the robots’ patterns. “Where’s Tilli?” she repeated, when Tig remained silent. “Has something happened to her, Tig?”

Tig looked up at the camera and shook his head.

That’s a relief.

“Where is she then? Why isn’t she here?”

Tig pointed at the ceiling above them. “Outside.”

Not quite the answer she expected. Tig whirled around before
Serengeti
could ask more questions, legs waving wildly as he scurried across the bridge and into the corridor outside.

“What in the world…?”
Serengeti
stared after him, surprised by the abrupt departure.

Not like Tig. Not like Tig at all.

She chased after him, flitting from camera to camera until she caught up with the little robot, and settled inside Tig’s metal shell. “What’s going on?” she asked, sensing the anxiousness inside him. “Is it the docking clamps? Have you run into a problem?”

Ten years to clear four docking clamps—they really couldn’t afford more setbacks and delays. The last time she woke, they’d been running out of parts, though, forcing Tig and Tilli to start cannibalizing other systems, because there simply wasn’t any other choice.

“Tig. Talk to me. Is it the docking clamps?”

Another shake of his Tig’s head. She was losing patience with this cryptic nonsense.

“Then what’s going on?”
Serengeti
demanded. “Where’s Tilli? Why isn’t she here?”

“Outside,” Tig repeated, and picked up speed, racing along the icy hallways, scrambling up the ladderway to the top tier of the ship.

More hallways there—a seemingly endless series of corridors and crossings that eventually brought them to the hull. Tig rolled to a gap and traded his tank treads for his legs as he scurried inside.

“I’m really not interested in stargazing right now, Tig. Where’s—?”

A dark shape appeared in front of them, blotting out the stars. Lights flashed and flared—cobalt fire drawing complex patterns.

“Tilli,”
Serengeti
breathed, voice filled with relief
.

Tig called out to his pink-bowed companion using swirling patterns of light, and then scuttled through the last layer of hull plating until he reached Tilli’s side.

Stars blazed all around them, as cold and pure and brilliant as ever.
Serengeti
hardly noticed them. She wanted nothing to do with daydreams and scenic vistas right now. She just wanted to know what was going on.

Unfortunately, Tig still didn’t seem to be talking. He greeted Tilli and then set off, following his winding path across the hull with Tilli following at his side.

“Tig. Stop.”
Serengeti
grabbed roughly at the robot’s controls, freezing his motors, bringing him to a lurching halt. Tilli kept going for a few feet before realizing Tig wasn’t with her and turning around, face lights flashing in question. “Speak. Now,”
Serengeti
ordered.

“The stars,” Tig blurted, pointing to one side. “A signal. Something’s coming.”

“Where?”

“There.” He pointed again, eyes locking on a distant, twinkling star.

Serengeti
stared in confusion.
Stars don’t twinkle. Not out here.

“A ship,” she breathed. “It’s a ship, not a star. After all these years…”
Serengeti
trailed off, daring to hope, knowing she should fear.

That ship could be anyone: Meridian Alliance, Dark Star Revolution, some nameless, faceless trader or black market profiteer.

She measured the distance from herself to that ship, guessing mostly since she couldn’t access her scans.
Guesswork. That’s what I’ve come to. If
Brutus
could only see me now, Serengeti
thought ruefully
. Self-righteous son-of-a-bitch would laugh his ass off.

Serengeti ran some quick calculations, despising the inaccuracy of it all, knowing it was the best she could do under the circumstances. “Long way out,” she murmured. “Long way from anything approximating civilization.” Which meant that the ship was either searching, or up to no good. “How did you ever find it?”

Tig
beeped
—strange how nervousness made him fall back on those nonsensical sounds—and turned the other way, pointing to the rounded crest of her hull. “Comms array.”

“Comms.”
Serengeti
felt a thrill of excitement. They’d had no comms at all the last time she’d gone to sleep. “Show me.”

The robots set off, scampering across her hull, making for a tower sticking up from the center of her back. A tower that most definitely hadn’t been there the last time Tig took her on a tour of the hull and the stars. Tig rolled to a stop at its base and let
Serengeti
take a good, long look.

The scaffolding appeared to be constructed from salvaged girders. Tig tilted her head back showing her the improvised communications array clinging like a spider to the tower’s top—an odd collection of antennae and curved disks, flaring panels and signal filters they’d fitted together and trained on the stars.

Kusikov would call it ugly and primitive, but
Serengeti
thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “You built this.”

Tig nodded, reaching for Tilli beside him. She seldom spoke, shy thing that she was, but she watched and listened, hanging on every word that passed between Tig and
Serengeti
. “We’ve been listening,” Tig said, waving at the stars. “We work and work and work, and then we come here and listen to the dark, thinking something might come. That’s how we found it.” He turned and pointed at the distant, twinkling spot of light.

“My, my, my. Aren’t you the clever ones?”
Serengeti
smiled to herself, amazed at the ingenuity of these lonely little robots. “So tell me: what has our friend out there got to say?”