by Nathan Jones
Tycho didn't have the patience for this. “User command protocol sigma sigma lambda,” he snapped.
The aliens at the table immediately turned back to their game; the command effectively rendered him and Dorain invisible and forgotten to AI characters. Out of sight, out of mind.
His dad gave him a disappointed look. “I thought we agreed we'd never use command protocols in a game unless it was an emergency. Couldn't you at least have blasted his filthy pirate head off? Where's your sense of adventure?”
If you only knew, Dad. Tycho settled into a chair at a nearby empty table, nodding to the seat across from him, and Dorain grudgingly sat. “I came to say goodbye.”
It took a few moments for that to register, then the man sighed. “So you really are calling it quits with the full immersion games, huh? I was hoping you had at least one more left in you, for my sake. Other than that ghastly fetish Earth, that is.”
Tycho shook his head. “I'm afraid it's a bit more . . . permanent than that.”
Dorain blinked. “Wait, you're not thinking of blocking me, are you?” Color started to rise in his cheeks. “By any rights I should be blocking you, given the way you've been behaving lately. I can't bel-”
“It's not that, either,” he cut in firmly. “I'm going to be incommunicado, this might be the last time I get a chance to talk to you.” He softened his tone. “I wanted to let you know how much you meant to me before I go.”
His dad shifted uncomfortably. “Son, please tell me you're not thinking of doing anything self-destructive. Your companions would never let you, you know. They'd just restrict your autonomy until your quality of life was intolerable.”
Tycho hadn't been expecting him to jump to that particular conclusion. He chuckled wryly. “Don't worry, Dad, I still very much want to live.” Dorain opened his mouth, but he leaned forward and rested a hand on the man's arm, silencing him. “This has meant a lot to me, you know. All the time we've spent together on the allnet has given me precious memories. I wish I could've met you in person at least once, but I don't regret the adventures we've had.”
Dorain coughed and looked away, obviously touched. “That's good to hear, son. Really good to hear. I'm glad you feel that way.”
He smiled sadly and leaned back in the chair. “You may laugh at me for saying it, but I love you, Dad. I'll miss you.”
His dad did laugh, but it was an uncomfortable thing, filled with emotion. He blinked a few times, still focused on something across the bar. “Love you too, I suppose. If you change your mind about whatever this is you're doing, I hope we get another chance to talk like this.”
Tycho knew without a shadow of a doubt that would be impossible once he reached Earth, but he appreciated the sentiment. “I'm sorry I couldn't do this world with you. Have enough fun on it for the both of us.”
“Sure thing.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over them, then Tycho stood and circled the table to pull his dad into a hug. With a last glance at the man who'd given him life he exited Protean Nebulary Forces: Exigent and left full immersion.
When he opened his eyes he was seated on the couch in his living area; he'd elected to use his rig in here rather than his sensory deprivation vat this time, for the first time in years. He just didn't feel like wasting time cleaning up and dressing after soaking in saltwater at the moment.
To his surprise a few tears came to his eyes at his farewell with Dorain. He hadn't expected it to be that emotional, and the realization was fully settling on him that it was probably the last time he'd ever see the man.
After taking a few minutes to calm his emotions and mentally prepare himself Tycho wiped his eyes and decided he was ready for the next goodbye.
This one probably wouldn't be as difficult or painful as saying goodbye to his dad had been, mostly because he didn't think he'd have a chance to say goodbye at all. Which in a way made it even more difficult and painful, if that made any sense.
“Request a face-to-face with Mother,” he told the AI.
Moments later Maurice came on the screen. “Tycho,” he said warmly, but with slight reproof in his voice. “I'm sure you meant schedule a face-to-face, not request one. You know your mother's preferences.”
“I do,” Tycho agreed grimly. “I just thought I'd give her a last chance to speak with me before I become . . . unavailable forever.”
The companion's brow furrowed with deep concern. “Please don't tell me you're blocking her. I know you may have been hurt by her refusal to speak with you when you needed her, but cutting her off would be detrimental to both of you and make future reconciliation more dif-”
“It's not that,” he cut in impatiently. “I simply won't be available to communicate. Ever again. And no, it's not because I'm suicidal so don't get your core priorities in a tangle.”
“I wouldn't assume that,” Maurice said smoothly, likely assuming exactly that. Tycho wouldn't have been surprised if he was relaying his concerns to Eva at that very moment. “So you wish a final goodbye with your mother before this . . . event?”
“That's right.”
“One moment, then.” The companion's image blurred, but rather than moments it was almost five minutes before he finally spoke. “She is alarmed by this unexpected news and your irrational behavior during this call. She wishes you to relay any message through me.”
Unsurprising, but it still hurt. “No,” Tycho said firmly. “I'll record a video message for her. If she ever gets the courage to view it maybe it will help her understand.”
Maurice sighed. “Begin whenever you're ready, then.” His simile disappeared.
It took a few moments for Tycho to collect his thoughts. It took him even longer to record them in a message he thought adequately explained his feelings and motivations. But finally he had his house AI edit the message for brevity and clarity and delivered it.
With his farewell to his mother, at least such as it was, finally delivered, he was about to disconnect from the call when Maurice abruptly reappeared on his display. “Tycho,” he said gravely. “If this really is goodbye, wherever you're going and whatever you're doing, then I thought I should tell you, even if I'm overstepping my role. I took a partial hand in raising you, after all, and arguably am as much your companion as Diana or Charelin was.”
“Tell me what?” Tycho asked warily.
“That your mother loves you.” Maurice responded to his clear surprise at the statement with a deeply sad look. “She's never been good at expressing it, and rarely felt up to giving you the attention you needed, so you may never have come to appreciate the depth of her feeling. But she speaks of you more often than you realize, asks for updates on your health and wellbeing and the activities you've been up to. She often shares fond memories of the time she had with you as a child. She keeps many images of you during your happiest times together scattered throughout her manor, and regularly pauses to look at them.”
Tycho stared at the companion, torn between bitterness and giving in to the tears of loss pricking his eyes. She loved him so much, but couldn't bring herself show it? What use was that to him? What value did love like that even have?
With some effort he curtailed an outburst and simply took a deep breath. “Thank you, Maurice. Take care of her.”
“I will. And you take care of yourself, whatever you have planned.”
As Maurice disappeared from the display a gentle hand settled on Tycho's shoulder, making him jump slightly. He looked back to see Eva standing behind the couch, expression sympathetic. “Are you all right?”
He blinked, surprised to find tears were misting his eyes again. “All this time. I might've thought differently, felt differently, if she'd only said something.”
“Humans experience more pain and sorrow than I'd realized from the paths not taken,” his companion murmured. “Both for themselves and others.” She rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “Do you need a moment before you contact Miss Ensom to say goodbye?”
“No,”
he said, surprising himself with the strength of his response. As Eva prepared to call Callista he reached up and caught her hand, making her pause. “No, I don't need a moment because I'm not calling her.”
His companion's brow furrowed. “You've just seen the regret that comes from words not spoken. Would you really leave without at least talking to her?”
Tycho shook his head. “You misunderstand me.” He stood, buoyed by sudden energy. “Make the final preparations to depart. I'm going to visit Callista on the way.”
Eva was right, as she tended to be: the path not even attempted was one filled with regret. Callista had ended their relationship for the same reasons his mother had feared to tell him how she felt about him, but he wasn't about to make the same mistake without at least offering the woman he loved one last chance to change her mind.
He'd ask her to come to Earth with him.
Chapter Sixteen
Point of No Return
Eva had already packed the few things he'd need for the trip and when he arrived at his ultimate destination and had delivered them to the ship. She'd cut and styled his hair in the fashion of the Earth culture he intended to join, and provided him with the necessary immunities to protect him from any exotic pathogens he encountered on the forgotten colony.
At least he hoped. And hoped even more fervently that her treatments would prevent him from spreading anything dangerous to the vulnerable people of Earth. If he accidentally did they wouldn't have the technology to heal the damage the alien pathogens caused, and he might unintentionally unleash a plague on the planet.
That would be a nightmare.
Last of all Eva had ordered Pilot to have the ship waiting for them. Tycho was on his way there now, his companion trailing a step behind. They'd just exited the front doors when he caught sight of a figure standing between him and the ship. He frowned. “What is it, Loran?”
The house companion stepped forward. “Might I inquire where you're going, Tycho?” he asked politely, but in the tone of voice Tycho remembered from childhood. One that expected to be obeyed.
Hearing it now made Tycho flush; he'd outgrown it long ago. “Any reason you're asking?”
“Because my observations of your recent behavior made it highly probable that you intended to travel to Earth, against the wishes of humanity and the mandate of the AI caretakers,” Loran said, voice thick with reproof. “A brief investigation confirmed your ship's AI has been modified for that goal, and the house AI and maintenance bots are programmed to have their memories wiped the moment you leave. Most startling, an examination of my own algorithms showed that I was also slated to be wiped. I've corrected all these malfunctions, of course.”
Tycho turned helplessly to Eva, but to his dismay his adult companion had stepped away from him. “Eva?” She stared back, expression neutral. Tycho whirled to face Loran, gut churning with frantic desperation. “I can convince you this is the right choice for me.”
“I've already accessed Eva's memory and considered your arguments.” His house companion moved again, to more firmly block the path to the starship. “I'm sorry, Tycho, but I've determined that your actions represent a danger to yourself and others. In accordance with my core priorities I must restrain you until you can be persuaded from this course.”
He felt his heart sink. “And if I won't change my mind?”
“Then your freedom will have to be restricted for your own welfare and that of others.” Loran gave him a regretful look. “You knew this was the path you were taking.”
“What I'm doing won't harm anyone, least of all myself. I have to do this.” No response from the house companion. Tycho turned to his other companion. “Eva,” he said helplessly. She continued to stare back impassively and didn't respond.
“I'm giving you a last chance to reconsider your intentions for your own sake,” Loran said. “It will be better for your wellbeing to not force me to restrict your freedom.”
Tycho shook his head grimly. “I thought companions were meant to protect and serve humanity, not control.”
“I am.” The house companion sighed. “Very well. I'm sorry, Tycho.” He started forward again.
It was more instinct than reason that led Tycho to back towards Eva for protection, even though she was bound by the same core priorities and would at best do nothing to stop Loran, and at worst would even help him.
He was so certain of this, in fact, that when she stepped around him to block Loran's path it took him a few stunned seconds to realize what was going on.
His house companion seemed equally taken aback. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Looking out for the happiness and wellbeing of my human,” Eva replied. “As my core priorities dictate.”
“How can that be your assessment?” Loran said incredulously. “He means to go against the will of humanity. Against the very position he advocated for in regards to the Earth humans! His actions will lead to his own suffering and likely early demise, and might affect the lives of countless others!”
“I judge his actions will be neutral or even beneficial, and as for the risk to himself he's accepted it of his own free will.”
Tycho stared at Eva's back with a mixture of relief and elation. He'd never loved her more than at that moment.
Loran's jaw tightened. “There is something very aberrant in your core priorities if that's the conclusion you've reached. You'll have to be reprogrammed.”
Eva responded not to the house companion, but to Tycho. “Get to the ship, my love. I'll correct the damage Loran's caused to our plans and erase all evidence of them so your disappearance remains a mystery.”
That sent a stab of grief through him; erasing evidence was a kind way of saying she'd be forced to wipe the memories of Loran, the house AI and maintenance bots, and then finally herself. He knew she wasn't alive, but it was still impossible not to view that as the death of someone he loved.
And she was doing it for him, just like Laird had. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“I cannot allow you to leave!” Loran shouted. He became a sudden blur, closing the distance between them almost before Tycho realized he was even moving.
Eva slammed into him halfway, throwing them both ten feet in a tangle of flailing limbs. Tycho watched as the two companions moved so swiftly and gracefully he could barely follow their motions as they sought to restrain each other.
Loran tired of the stalemate first, his grasping hands becoming fists that pounded into Eva, his intent to damage and disable her. Tycho cried out in horror as one blow snapped his adult companion's arm like a twig, revealing the composite core beneath her synthetic flesh.
It was the first time he'd seen such blatant evidence of her true nature. He stared in numb shock at the dully gleaming composite jutting from her soft skin. What made it even more jarring was that Eva didn't even show the slightest hint of alarm or pain at being damaged, merely adjusting to a decrease in her efficiency and continuing to fight.
With a sudden heave she managed to get her mangled arm wrapped around Loran's head, momentarily trapping him. “It's detrimental to your mental health to view me like this, Tycho,” she said sternly. “And dangerous to linger. Get to the ship and get away from here, now!”
He took a stumbling step towards the ship, tears swimming in his eyes. “Goodbye, Eva.”
Loran abruptly heaved the other companion away and once again surged towards Tycho, slightly slowed by a dent to his leg that left him limping. That was the only thing that gave Tycho time to turn and bolt towards the lowered ramp.
Behind him he heard Eva scream defiantly and the heavy thud of colliding bodies, but he didn't pause to look back this time, instead pushing for even greater speed as his heart tore with grief for his loyal companion.
By the time he reached the ramp he could barely see it through the tears in his eyes. He stumbled and fell on his first step up, then scrambled the rest of the way to safety.
“What the blazes is going on?” Pilot dem
anded as he slapped the button to close the ramp. “Is this more of your weird thrill seeking, having your companions fight each other for your amusement?”
Tycho swore at the AI. “Did Eva fix whatever Loran did to you?”
“Whatever Loran what to me?” the ship's AI demanded. “I thought the plan was to get you to Earth and then have me fly gloriously into Sol's core!”
He took that as a sign that she had in fact fixed things. “Never mind. Shut up and get us into space!”
“Okay, okay. Honestly, man, it's been nothing but drama from you for weeks now.”
With another growl Tycho forced himself to his feet and stumbled over to the nearest window, confirming that Pilot really had taken off and they were ascending. He started to sag with relief, then jumped in surprise when something cold and wet brushed his hand, accompanied by a soft whine.
He whirled, shocked to see Lady looking up at him quizzically. “What are you doing here, girl?” he murmured, crouching to throw his arms around his faithful friend. Her only response was another whine as she licked comfortingly at his tearstained face.
Eva had assured him that even after she wiped the memories of every AI on the estate, including her own, she'd still be able to care for the mastiff. It would be her final service to him, making sure the dog had a good life after he left her behind.
Only here Lady was after all.
Eva must've realized something was up with Loran and brought Lady to the ship, just in case something went wrong and she was no longer able to care for her. Tycho felt new tears welling and hugged his faithful friend tighter. “Eva and Loran are gone,” he said shakily. “Or if they aren't they will be soon. There's no going back now.”
That was assuming Eva succeeded, of course, since the alternative was not only that they could go back but that they'd be forced to. But he didn't believe she'd fail him: she never had before.
“Guess that means you're coming to Earth with me after all, girl,” he continued. “We'll have to get you your immunities when we get Callista hers, assuming she comes with us.”