Chapter 16 - The Lesser Evil

  Darius stretched out on his borrowed bed in his borrowed room and watched Finn pace back and forth. He probably shouldn’t have found it as amusing as he did, but it was a novel experience, being the calm one.

  “You do realise how insane that sounds, right?” Finn asked rhetorically. “First, some kind of experimental AI nano-whatever tricks you into entering a restricted area on an Imperial warship, then it jumps into your head, and now you’re telling me it wants you to build it a body? And if you don’t, you’re going to die?”

  Darius sighed, frustrated. “You think I don’t know how sketchy the whole situation is?” he asked. “I get it. But if this was some grand conspiracy, why the hell would it choose me of all people? Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, Echo has actually been pretty straight with me so far.”

  “As far as you know!” Finn exclaimed.

  “Sure,” Darius acknowledged. “It could be hiding all sorts of things from me. But at the end of the day, I can only make decisions based on the knowledge that I have available. And from that knowledge… it just doesn’t make sense for Echo to lie.” He shrugged. “Besides, worst case scenario – I build him a body and he goes off to complete whatever nefarious deeds he wants to do far away from me. At least I wouldn’t be involved any more.”

  Finn looked at him like he was crazy. “Uh, no, worst case scenario is that you build the thing a body and it uses that body to take over the station and kill everyone!”

  {I am unsure how to assuage your doubts,} Echo’s voice chirped from somewhere in Darius’s jacket, its synthetic voice managing to sound both polite and mildly offended. {Though for the record, I can assure you that I have no intention of taking over the station or killing anyone.”}

  Darius blinked and looked down, confused. After a moment of rummaging around, he pulled out the bypass kit, turning it over in his hands until he located the tiny speaker embedded in its side. He didn’t think it was designed to be used as a communicator, but clearly, Echo didn’t care.

  Finn watched, wide-eyed from where he had frozen on hearing the voice. “Oh, hell no. It can talk now?”

  Darius tilted his head. “And how exactly did you think it communicated?”

  “I don’t know, I thought it, like, sent you messages or something!” Finn complained, eyeing the bypass kit like it would jump up and bite him. “It sounds like a VI! Except way more advanced.” He shivered. “It’s kinda creepy.”

  Darius laughed. “That’s right, I forgot you were always scared about all that ‘uncanny valley’ stuff. Relax – just think of it as a… more interactive VI, if that helps.”

  “Interactive?” Finn shot him a look that could melt steel. “You mean it’s freeloading in your head and now playing the role of an uninvited guest in real life – while asking you to build it a body so it can do who knows what! That’s not interactive, Darius. That’s a problem.”

  {I prefer the term ‘collaborative partner,’} Echo chimed in smoothly, the faint hum of the speaker adding an eerie presence to its words.

  Finn jabbed a finger in the speaker’s direction. “You don’t get a vote.”

  Darius sighed, his expression a mix of exasperation and resignation. “Alright, Finn, since you seem to have all the answers, do you have a hidden plan tucked away in that over-caffeinated brain of yours that doesn’t involve building Echo a body? Because I’m all ears.”

  Finn froze mid-glare, opening his mouth as if to retort, only to close it again. He shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, his brow furrowing deeply as he struggled to come up with an alternative. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan, throwing his hands up in defeat.

  “Dammit, no,” he admitted, rubbing at his temple. “I don’t. I’ve got nothing, okay? And I hate that you’re putting me in a position where I have to say this, but fine—building it a body might actually be the least terrible option we’ve got.”

  “Least terrible,” Darius repeated with a faint smirk. “High praise coming from you.”

  “Don’t push it,” Finn shot back, glaring at him. “This whole thing is a bad idea, but I don’t see a better one. Yet.”

  His friend resumed pacing, though less frantically than before. “If we’re going to do this, we’ll have to be smart about it. Absolutely no trusting that thing more than we have to.”

  {A pragmatic approach,} Echo said approvingly. {I find this acceptable.}

  “Shut up,” Finn snapped, his voice a little higher-pitched than he probably intended.

  {I believe your friend may be a little high-strung,} Echo said privately, voice crackling through his augs.

  Darius bit back a chuckle at the comment, spirits buoyed more than he cared to admit that Finn was willing to help.

  “Do you even know how to build a robot body? Cause I sure as hell don’t,” Finn snarked, clearly picking up on Darius’s amusement.

  “Echo apparently has some blueprints or lists or whatever,” Darius said, waving a hand dismissively.

  {Would you like me to transfer you a copy of the required components?} Echo asked politely through the makeshift speaker.

  “Hell no!” Finn reared back, hands raised protectively like they would do anything to stop a data transfer. “You stay the hell away from my augs!”

  Darius couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up through his chest. Did enjoying the sight of Finn panicking make him a bad friend? He paused. Did the fact that he wasn’t reacting in the same way mean that Echo had done something?

  After a moment’s thought, he sighed and tried to put the matter out of his head. True self-reflection was impossible; he was far too biased. On the one hand, his relatively easy acceptance of Echo’s presence could be indicative of the AI changing his brain chemistry or whatever. On the other hand, he had always been fairly adaptable, and beyond the disruption of his life, Echo hadn’t done anything that hadn’t been helpful.

  It probably helped that this was the most alive Darius had felt in years. He hadn’t pegged himself as an adrenaline junkie, but how else could he explain the rush he felt getting into a gunfight or planning a mission to break into an Imperial building?

  Finn, still pacing, threw his hands up. “Okay, fine. I’ll bite. Message me a list of the easier stuff – things you can buy off the shelf without setting off alarm bells. Capacitors, actuators, wiring, whatever.”

  Darius raised an eyebrow. “You volunteering to run errands for me?”

  “Well, it’s hardly like you can walk into Kara’s office and ask her,” Finn shot back.

  “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s hardly my first option, but would it be that bad? She doesn’t strike me as the type to string us up over a few spare parts.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “No, she wouldn’t,” Finn admitted. “But if she got curious, she’d dig. And if she found out what we’re really doing, she’d make sure it was for the good of the Freeholders first and us second—if at all.”

  “Fair enough,” Darius muttered, mentally shelving the idea of involving Voss. “You know it’s a little weird you call her Kara,” he pointed out.

  “Why? It’s her name.”

  “Yeah, but she’s way too intense to be a Kara. I can’t think of her as anything but ‘Voss’.”

  “Whatever,” Finn snorted. “Don’t even pretend you aren’t into it. I know you have a type.” He waved off Darius’s protests before they could even begin. “Back to the important stuff – I have no idea what sort of stuff you need to build a body, but I don’t imagine it’ll be easy to pick up the stuff. Besides, I can’t get off work too often or people will start asking questions.”

  “Right, thanks,” Darius said, hoping his embarrassment wasn’t too noticeable. Judging by the smirk tugging at the edge of Finn’s mouth, he wasn’t very successful. “I just hope this isn’t going to get too expensive,” he moped, trying to change the subject. “Might have to see if I can convince Harlan to hit a bank next or something.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Finn waved him off. “I’ll pay for them. It’s not like you’re swimming in credits, and even if you weren’t, half your accounts are frozen thanks to the Empire breathing down your neck.”

  That gave Darius pause. “You sure? I mean, I know I’m broke, but I wasn’t exactly going to ask you to dig into your emergency beer fund.”

  Finn glared at him. “You want me to take back the offer?”

  “Not a chance.” Darius grinned. “Thanks, man. I’ll keep it simple.”

  Finn resumed his pacing, though the sharp edge in his movements softened as he mulled something over. “You know,” he said slowly, “if you’re serious about pulling this off, you might want to reach out to some of the other Freeholders. Not Voss,” he added quickly, raising a hand to cut Darius off. “But Corin or Lena could help.”

  Darius tilted his head, curious. “Corin and Lena? That’s not exactly a natural pairing.”

  Finn huffed. “They’re not a pair. But Corin’s smart and resourceful. If you can convince him this is worth his time, he’ll probably come through for you. Just don’t expect it to be easy. He doesn’t stick his neck out unless he sees a solid return on investment.”

  “Okay,” Darius said, nodding. “What about Lena?”

  “She’s the opposite,” Finn said, his expression softening. “Lena’s got a big heart. She’d probably jump at the chance to help you, no questions asked. But keeping her mouth shut? That’s a different story. And she doesn’t have the resources Corin does, so don’t expect much in the way of heavy support.”

  “So Corin, if I need reliability, Lena, if I need enthusiasm,” Darius summed up.

  “Basically,” Finn said. “Just be careful how you approach them. This isn’t something you want spreading around.”

  Darius chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, for someone who’s been giving me grief about Echo, you sure sound a lot like him right now.”

  Finn stopped pacing, giving him a flat look. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, Echo suggested reaching out to Freeholders, too,” Darius said, smirking. “I guess you have more in common than you thought.”

  Finn groaned, rubbing his temples. “If you ever compare me to that thing again, I swear I’m going to—”

  “Relax,” Darius interrupted, holding up a hand to placate him. “I’m just saying, great minds think alike.”

  “Yeah, well, one of those minds is freeloading in your head,” Finn shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let’s not lump me in with it, okay?”

  “Alright, alright,” Darius laughed, “You’ve made your point.”

  Finn let out a long breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Just… keep me updated, okay? If you need backup - or a reality check - you know where to find me.”

  “Don’t worry,” Darius said, sitting on the edge of his bed and regarding his friend semi-seriously. “You’ll be the first to know when I inevitably screw this up.”

  Finn rolled his eyes. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  Darius grinned. “Not really.”

  Finn’s augs flickered with light for a second, and he winced. “I gotta go. Meeting up with Jack and the others tonight, and they’ll ask questions if I’m late.”

  “I don’t know how you put up with those guys,” Darius said, shaking his head. “Actually, wait, how do you put up with them? Aren’t they super pro-Empire? I thought it was weird you hung out with that crowd, and that was before I learned you were involved with the Freeholders.”

  Finn grinned ruefully. “Yeah, they kinda suck. Good cover though, huh?”

  Darius cocked an eyebrow dubiously. “Yeah, and it’d probably be easier to hide from the Empire in the sewers. Doesn’t mean you’ll catch me doing it.”

  “Never say never,” Finn laughed, shrugging on his jacket and making for the door. Before he opened it, he hesitated for a long moment before turning back to his friend.

  “Look, feel free to tell me to piss off or whatever, but… where do you see this going? Let’s say we manage to get your AI buddy a body, and let’s even go so far as to say that he doesn’t betray us and turn us into meat puppets or whatever… what then?”

  Darius shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I guess I get my life back.”

  “What life?”

  “Okay, screw you.”

  “No, I’m serious,” Finn insisted. “Do you really see yourself going back to the grind, just like that? Head to work, get drinks at Tony’s, stagger to bed and come in the next morning hungover? Day in, day out?”

  “What’s wrong with Tony’s?” Darius was being deliberately obtuse now, and they both knew it.

  “Nothing. I like it. I just don’t really think that you do.”

  Finn’s gaze was steady now, his earlier sarcasm giving way to a rare note of sincerity. “I don’t know, man. You just… you seem more alive now, hiding from the Empire and doing all this insane crap than you ever did back when you were grinding away at that shipyard job.”

  Darius didn’t respond immediately. He wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t like Finn was wrong—not entirely, anyway. Still, there was something uncomfortable about hearing it said out loud. He stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling as if it might hold some kind of answer. It didn’t.

  “I mean it,” Finn pressed. “You’ve been running on fumes for as long as I’ve known you. Just… existing. But now? You’ve got this fire under you. And yeah, I know most of that fire is probably ‘holy crap, I don’t want to die,’ but still. It’s something.”

  Darius cleared his throat awkwardly, aware that his body language was probably defensive. He’d never been the best at serious conversations. “I gotta make it through to the end before I can start thinking about what comes next,” he pointed out.

  “You gotta make it to the end before you can start doing whatever comes next.” Finn was clearly unwilling to let him ignore this. “Doesn’t mean you can’t start thinking.”

  “You and I both know thinking isn’t my strong suit.”

  “Heh. True. Maybe give it a shot though, yeah?”

  With that parting comment, Finn slipped out through the door and let it swing shut behind him. Silence settled over the room, broken only by the faint hum of the station’s life support systems. Darius leaned back against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck.

  Was Finn right? Was he really more alive now, ducking patrols and talking to rogue AIs, than he’d been back when his life had been stable and predictable? He wasn’t sure. What he did know was that his old life - the one Finn had described, full of long shifts at the shipyard and even longer nights at Tony’s - hadn’t exactly been satisfying. It had been safe, sure. Comfortable, in its own way. But fulfilling? No, not even close.

  {You are unusually quiet,} Echo observed, its synthetic voice cutting through the silence like a whisper. {Is something troubling you?}

  Darius snorted softly. “Just… thinking. Don’t get too excited—it’s a rare occurrence.”

  {A commendable one, nonetheless,} Echo replied, its tone as measured as ever. {You are considering Finn’s question, I assume.}

  “Maybe,” Darius admitted, leaning back on his elbows. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  {On the contrary, your future directly impacts mine. It would be unwise of me not to consider it.}

  “By the time this stuff becomes relevant, you’ll either be gone, or I’ll be a drooling vegetable,” Darius pointed out.

  {An unnecessarily bleak perspective,} Echo replied. {Though I suspect hyperbole is a coping mechanism for you.}

  Darius waved a dismissive hand. “What are you, my therapist? I think that’s enough psychoanalysis for one day. I’ve got enough people telling me what to do without you throwing in your two credits.”

  {Very well,} Echo said, its tone still maddeningly polite. {I will respect your boundaries.}

  Darius snorted softly, not bothering to reply. He rolled onto his side, letting his head rest against the cool wall. The room was small, just big enough to fit the bed, a narrow desk, and a chair that looked like it might collapse under its own weight. Borrowed, like everything else in his life lately. Temporary. The faint hum of the station filled the silence, familiar and oddly soothing.

  He exhaled sharply and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, brushing the thoughts aside like cobwebs. It didn’t matter. Not right now. What mattered was keeping his head down around the Empire, and making himself useful enough to the Freeholders that they didn’t want to toss him aside.

  He reached for his jacket, pulling it on more for the comfort of routine than any practical need. The familiar weight settled over his shoulders, grounding him. The faint scent of engine grease still clung to the fabric, a reminder of simpler days—not necessarily better, but simpler. Days where the biggest worry was whether his pay would be docked when he staggered in, late and hungover.

  Something pulled at the edge of his mind, slight and fleeting, like a half-remembered dream. He ignored it, brushing a hand through his hair as he stood and paced the narrow room. He wasn’t about to start mooning over things he couldn’t change. That wasn’t his style. He worked with what he had, kept his head down, and pushed forward. Anything else was a distraction.