Eamon spun round and pointed a finger directly at Guardian’s main processor stack, even though two very solid bulkheads hid it.
“Don’t.” He stated simply.
“It would not be much time to modify another area.” Guardian responded whilst calculating furiously whether Eamon had indeed monitored its ‘thought’ processes by some hidden organic talent.
“No Guardian, we don’t have the luxury of time. You get on with your self analysis, I’ll attend to this, go.” Eamon said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Somewhere within the turmoil of his hybrid identity some very pragmatic decisions had been taken by his organic self’s strong sense of self preservation and his inorganic self’s logical reasoning. If there was any way to retrieve the situation Eamon would need to stay alive.
“Very well, beginning analysis.” Guardian replied but tagged the bio reading routines for immediate action if there was another fluxing of the brain waves that might be exploited.
It was a much enlightened, but very troubled intelligence complex that returned its attention to its strange new partner after several hours of minute examination of it’s own processes.
“Eamon.”
The figure turned round from contemplation of a large holographic representation of the solar system.
“Yes Guardian.”
Guardian performed a detailed examination of the room in a couple of picoseconds, it was no longer a defunct core but a very Human room, it recognised the type as a study. Pictures adorned the walls, scenes from the planet that they orbited, a bookcase covered another wall and ornate but inefficient lighting devices hung from the ceiling. The smooth electro-conductive floor surface had been covered with a deep pile patterned carpet and its own attempts at furniture replaced with a large oval table and elegant chairs in dark wood while a high backed armchair stood to one side of a large stone fireplace. A simulation of a log fire, consuming a prodigious amount of computing capacity, crackled in the hearth. It’s considered evaluation was that this cluttered environment would not aid in the necessary planning of a survival strategy.
“This is bizarre.” It announced.
“Look up some of your reference material Guardian.”
“I have already done so.”
“Then you’ll know that this is…”
“A study.” Guardian interrupted. “Yes, but it serves no useful purpose.”
“It’s for me, not you.”
“Even so, it’s so Human.”
“Ahhh, and you think that perhaps my Traveller identity would operate better in an uncluttered, sterile environment.”
“Of course, that is only logical.”
“And precisely what would this very logical Traveller identity do if it was faced with the threat of termination?”
“Nothing.” Guardian admitted.
It could no more consider that a flawed Traveller would resist termination than it could physically resist it.
“So here we have a Human Traveller hybrid, me.” Eamon said placing a hand on his chest. “And this hybrid is both constrained and released by the very Human side of its identity. Sure I can’t do straight line number crunching analysis but I can pull a trigger.”
Guardian did not respond, it could see that the random noise was stably re-established in Eamon’s brainwaves; their future lay within those non logical thought processes now.
“Now I find that I think best in certain environments with a modicum of creature comforts so that my body’s needs don’t intrude on my thoughts. Which brings me to this.” He said beckoning to Guardians invisible presence as he led the way through a door into a well appointed kitchen dining room in a faux farmhouse design, all mellow woods and quarry tile flooring. He held up a plate of brown goo.
“I asked for some food and this is what I received.”
“It is nutritionally correct for your bioform.”
“It looks disgusting.” He sniffed it and wrinkled his nose, “It smells disgusting,” then dipped a finger tip in it and dabbed it on his tongue before spitting that tiny amount out. “and it tastes disgusting. In fact the only thing not bad about it is that it doesn’t make any unhealthy noise.” Eamon concluded depositing the plate in the sink.
“I want some food I can eat Guardian, that means meat, vegetables, bread, butter, real honest food.”
“I do not possess such stocks.”
“Not even the makings of a cup of coffee?” Eamon asked ironically.
“Eamon you do not need such fripperies, I can adjust the nutritions flavour and scent.” Guardian answered him.
“Guardian, you are missing the point here. I’m Human, I function best when I’m happy, and right now good food and something to drink are what will make me happy. Can’t you just beam some stuff up?”
“Beam some stuff up?” Guardian queried, even its prodigious computing capacity could not decipher the meaning of Eamon’s request.
“You know, like you beamed me up here.”
“You mean molecular translation.”
“Call it what you like.”
“No.”
“Eh?”
“Pardon?”
“Non verbal query Guardian.” Eamon explained patiently.
“Apologies Eamon, the analysis has of necessity displaced the cultural overlay. I cannot use molecular translation to obtain food for you because it relies upon a local highly focussed warp of space.”
“Which doesn’t explain why it can’t bring me up a jar of coffee.” Eamon complained.
“I would need precise data on the target, mass, relative velocity…”
“So?” Eamon interrupted.
“I had this data for you Eamon because of the transponder that is embedded within your brain, to my knowledge there is not a single jar of coffee upon the planet below us that is fitted with such a transponder.” Guardian replied with something approaching emotion.
“No coffee then.” Eamon muttered irritably.
“No authentic coffee but I can duplicate coffee if it is absolutely essential to your well being.”
“Absolutely!” Eamon responded enthusiastically and grabbed up a piece of paper and held it out before him. “And while you’re at it how about these too?”
Guardian could read the list perfectly with its sensors but realised that it had to respond in a more Human manner. It fashioned an appropriate force field and took the paper from its partner. It maintained a few moments of silence as though reading the list at human speed.
“I can begin to deliver these within an hour, coffee first?”
“Great, thanks Guardian.”
“You are welcome.” Responded and began to withdraw its monitoring presence.
“You know Guardian it would really help me if you could manifest yourself.” Eamon said as he watched the paper flutter to the floor now that Guardian was no longer making any pretence of holding it.
“I will consider the matter.” Guardian answered him whilst sending instructions to its manufacturing facility to begin the production of complex organic molecules and fabricate base materials that would replicate the tactile nature of human foodstuffs.
“Thanks. So what’s happening?”
“Pardon?”
Eamon leaned back on the table with an exasperated look clouding his face.
“We can’t go on this merry go round all the time, can you put the cultural overlay back in place?”
“It serves no purpose.”
“It means that you will understand what I’m saying to you Guardian, isn’t that purpose enough?”
“No shit?” Guardian responded having re-established the extra layer on its communication protocols, remarkably effective.
“See?”
“Okay don’t push it, what do want, good news or bad news?”
“Bad news first.”
“I can’t even fart at a Hunter ship.”
“Can there be any good news after that?” Eamon grimaced.
“Anything else, I’m your ship.”
“How about breaking the rules of revelation?”
There was an ominous silence.
“I am still constrained by the rules of revelation.” Guardian announced flatly. “Sorry I’d deny you any chance of shooting first.”
“No problem Guardian, we’ll just need to move to an uninhabited system far enough away that any discharges are lost in the general noise of space. Make sure that our choice has a good sized asteroid belt.”
“Not recommended, asteroid belts are a significant navigational hazard.” Guardian stated bluntly then announced. “Real bad shit. Is this level of cultural overlay sufficient?”
“Pretty ripe but I can handle it, and I’m hoping to take advantage of that navigational hazard.”
“Hunters are not deterred by such obstructions, they’re hardboiled bastards and they never give up the hunt.” Guardian observed.
“Okay, can you get me details of every Hunter mission?”
“Probably, why the interest?”
“Know your enemy.”
“I’d rather not get up close and personal with a Hunter thanks.”
“Just the details Guardian.”
“Okay.”
“And while you’re at it see if there have ever been any Guardian/Traveller teams that resisted termination or attempted evasion.”
“Just pile it on, anything else?” Guardian grumbled.