“I am configuring the manufacturing facilities for the production of munitions and mines, I shall add capacity for the shadow craft. If you will excuse me.”
“Sure, catch you later for dinner?”
“Certainly.”
The manifestation bowed and exited the room in the proper fashion, but perhaps with an extra spring in it step. Eamon smiled at the sight, Guardian was beginning to think independently, a crucial step up that could be the edge in them surviving the approaching conflict.
But it proved difficult for Eamon to maintain that early creative pace for more than a few days and he found himself just a spectator as Guardian modified itself and brought the new weapons on line. He enjoyed the first test firings of the railguns, it was like having a glorified games console, but here the joystick and firing button unleashed a truly lethal projectile. Placing the crosshairs on the target asteroid and pressing the button resulted in a spectacular explosion, Guardian providing all the necessary vectors and directional compensations. That flesh and blood finger could do one thing that it could not guarantee to, fire upon the Hunter ship. The same console provided a master firing circuit for all of Guardians extensive array of existing weapons, lasers and particle beams, even though they were expected to be largely dedicated to debris clearance in their chosen battle ground of the asteroid field. They tested it just in case.
Beyond that Eamon felt like an appendage and the inactivity gently gnawed at him so that he became grumpy and withdrawn. Guardian became concerned that the hybrid psyche was beginning to fall apart under the stress.
Guardian observed Eamon as he stood just staring at the projected starfield and faintly murky asteroid field as they harvested more raw materials.
“Guardian.” Eamon said softly.
It still surprised Guardian that the poorly equipped human body could still somehow detect when it was under scrutiny. By it’s own standards Eamon was nearly blind, deaf and nerve dead, but the core processor, the brain, clearly had hidden qualities that its own rigidly defined processor stacks did not.
“Eamon.” Guardian responded without perceptible delay.
“News?”
“No news.” Guardian admitted, reflecting that despite the almost monosyllabic nature of their exchange there was still a great deal of information about Eamon’s state of mind in them.
Intonation, weighting, emphasis, emotion, all these and more Guardian had learned to appreciate rather than just store as more data. This exchange showed little of those nuances, it was almost as though a Traveller spoke.
“Traveller?” Guardian ventured.
A dry chuckle answered the tentative query.
“You never give up on me eh Guardian?”
“I…”
“If I were still a functional Traveller we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“True, but it was not my reason for asking.”
“Perhaps it would be better for you if I just blew my addled brains out, you could be re-programmed, contamination erased, poof.” Eamon continued as though Guardian hadn’t spoken.
“One shot Guardian, all our worries over.”
“That is one shot I cannot permit.” Guardian stated with emotion.
Eamon half turned, caught a glimpse of the manifestation and whirled about.
“I will protect you as completely as I can, and you are wrong if you think that I desire such a decontamination.”
Eamon ran his eyes over the fearsome vision of the heavily armoured samurai warrior in black and gold lacquer that confronted him. A slight smile creased his face.
“I believe you Guardian, no po faced guardian ship could ever manifest as you have.”
“And no Traveller has ever been as unique as you are Eamon. You cannot consider self termination.”
“Its called depression, a condition the human mind is susceptible to. Its usually only temporary.” Eamon responded with a shrug. “After the high of getting us on track to have a fighting chance the waiting has been a low. Patience is something built into you Guardian, it’s always been your job to wait for my next crisis, but me,” he shrugged, “I’m action oriented and for now I’m just a hungry mouth ‘til my finger gets the call to arms.”
“I believe that I comprehend your diagnosis Eamon, but is there no amelioration that may be effected?”
Eamon smiled at the samurai figure.
“You know Guardian, I do believe that you are getting a handle on my condition.”
“I…” Guardian began but stopped when Eamon raised a finger to his lips.
“You see, you know my gestures. You have taken on board so much of what it is to be human when you manifest that you can appreciate my condition better than any other Guardian ship ever understood its incorporated Traveller. Thank you Guardian.” He concluded with a formal bow to his samurai protector.
Guardian’s manifestation returned the bow more deeply.
“I have done what I perceive as necessary, I do not seek reward. But it ‘pleases’ me to have been of such help to you.”
“Thanks for being there Guardian.” Eamon said by way of explanation.
A smile crinkled Guardian’s face as its manifestation removed the severe face-mask.
“Ahh, a friend in need.” It quoted from a now much mined language archive.
Then as Eamon nodded it struck a thoughtful pose tapping one finger on its lips before waving it at him.
“Your inactivity is not healthy for mind or body. You must be in peak condition, mind, hand and eye all balanced and ready for the conflict. I think it would be profitable for you to practise some of the martial arts to achieve this balance.”
“Martial arts? You mean like Kung-fu and the like?”
“Not that particular discipline, I would find it hard to interact physically with you in Kung-fu.”
“Interact.” Eamon murmured with a spark of interest.
“I consider that Tai Chi for the discipline and Kendo for the action are most suitable.”
“I’ve heard of Tai Chi, exercises that improve your balance and coordination, but Kendo?”
“Kendo is the traditional samurai sword fighting practiced with bamboo swords, boko.”
“Would you like to try the Kendo now?”
“Sure.” Eamon agreed as the blackness of his mood lifted as he was presented with a new challenge.
“This way please.”
Guardian led him out of his suite and into the broad corridor that linked the major areas of the ship, colours pulsing and racing along it as Guardian maintained its multitude of activities. Eamon had not set foot outside his own suite for many days and now realised that this had led to some of his depression, he had become isolated. Gently he stroked a hand along the corridor wall, as the colours rushed beneath his fingertips like a surreal alien river, it was a soothing interlude. He scarcely noticed where they were going until a portal dilated to admit them into a large chamber, wood panelled and redolent with the smell of old timbers. He breathed the air deeply as he entered, revelling in the ambience.
“You did all this just for me?” He said quietly.
“For us Eamon. Here we will exercise together and spar together.”
Eamon turned his head to regard his partner, so that was what Guardian meant by interact, he grinned widely.
“You may not grin so much when we spar.” Guardian informed him with a wry smile. “I shall be a stern master. The pile of garments to the left are for you, mine are to the right. You will need my assistance in robing.”
Eamon didn’t argue the point; he hadn’t a clue what most of the items were. Disconcertingly Guardian ‘stepped’ out of his samurai armour to leave it standing alone whilst he strode across the wooden floor almost buck naked except for a traditional loin cloth.
“Come, disrobe.” Guardian bade him. “Completely.”
Eamon found out that he had to wear an identical loin cloth, even though he would have far rather kept his boxers on, but Guardian was insistent upon the protocol to be followed. His apparel looked cumbersome and it was heavy but allowed him to move freely and he picked up the boko to perform some exploratory cuts.
“That is not how the boko is wielded.” Guardian castigated him. “Observe how I grip it, and how I then move to attack.”
With that Guardian held out his own boko before him with both hands and then advanced rapidly forward three steps to slash it downwards with a fierce yell.
“Then withdraw.”
Guardian stated as he danced back without turning.
“In Kendo you do not present your back to the opponent. Now grip your boko and we shall advance and attack together.”
Like a strange dance they stepped swiftly forwards and struck at the imagined opponent then retreated. In his first few forays Eamon’s strokes were lopsided and not energetic enough, but his shout was lusty and suitably aggressive as he attacked his own depressive state of mind. Guardian demonstrated more attacks and then allowed Eamon to have a few goes at a training dummy, something he relished, striking it with real zeal and determination.
“That is sufficient.” Guardian intervened as Eamon became very involved in the mock attacks.
“Huh? I was having fun there, releasing a bit of stress too.” Eamon complained.
“I do not doubt it but you will find that any more will lead to soreness of your muscles and chafing of your skin. It is best to gradually build up the exercises.”
“Okay.” Eamon agreed, noticing that his shoulders were feeling a bit sore already under the heavy cloth and padding.
He began to divest himself of the many layers and dump them untidily upon the floor until a stern finger from Guardian stopped his carelessness.
“Tidiness is a part of the discipline, observe how I fold each item and repeat with your own.”
Chastened, he carefully followed his teacher’s example and then reached for his own clothes.
“Cleanliness is also a part of the discipline.” Guardian stated.
“I can shower back in my rooms.” Eamon protested.
“I believe you will appreciate a hot bath better, come.”
Guardian led the way through a small doorway into a room warm with steam rising from a deep tub and scented with pine resin. Now Eamon waited to see what his ‘teacher’ would do, he was new to this style of life.
Guardian nodded in satisfaction at his pupil’s reticence.
“First we clean ourselves thoroughly.” Guardian explained pointing to a long bench and buckets of hot water and soap.
Removing their loin clothes they took up the ladles and spooned the warm water over themselves, Eamon marvelling at how the manifestation seemed to be pouring water over the holographic body.
“That’s pretty realistic Guardian.” He commented.
“Because it is real.” Guardian returned with a small grin and proceeded to pour a ladle full of water over Eamon’s head much to his astonishment.
“If you would be so kind, please wash my back.” Guardian requested as the manifestation turned about.
Eamon nervously lathered his hands with the soap and then tentatively applied it to the slender figures back, it felt just like skin, it moved, gave, slid under his fingers just as if it were honest flesh.
“Amazing.” He murmured, then louder. “There, you’re done.”
“Thank you, would you like me to cleanse your back?”
“Sure.”
It was hard to believe that the firm fingers that were applied to his back were in fact complex force fields, they mimicked every aspect of human skin, muscle and bone; it felt damn good too.
“I believe that will suffice, you may rinse yourself.” Guardian said in a satisfied tone.
The surprises continued as Guardian gestured at the steaming wooden tub and both clambered down into the hot water and sank down up to their necks, the water level responding to Guardian’s bogus body just as it did to Eamon’s own.
“Ahhh.” Eamon sighed as the heat eased the minor soreness of his tired muscles.
“It is a most pleasant sensation.” Guardian commented from beside him.
“You can feel the water?”
“Indeed. I can calculate the sense of pressure from the feedback of the force field generators; it is a most agreeable manner of data interpretation.”
“So you can feel the heat too?”
“Alas not at this moment. However I am working on an algorithm to further interpret the feedback so that the energy of the molecular impacts is measured and converted into a temperature sensation.” Guardian explained.
It raised a hand, dripping, from the water.
“It is a fascinating exercise to mimic your biological sensory inputs and biological muscular activity. It does reveal why you enjoy such things as food and drink in a way that was previously inaccessible to me.”
“Walk the walk Guardian, it’s the best way.” Eamon chuckled.
“Indeed.”
As their talk drifted into other areas a semi-autonomous routine reported a small but highly significant advance in its objective. Guardian considered the data it had transmitted, it had successfully merged into the homeworld datanet and had penetrated the control software. Now it was sending out clones to datamine for the information that it sought, the route into the Hunter ship command hierarchy. The clones not only searched for this ultimate objective, they also reported back any information that concerned Guardian. The first such morsel accompanied the initial report; it was a news item detailing the identity of the Hunter ship that had been assigned to sterilise Guardian and Eamon. Guardian did not think that this was the appropriate moment to bring such an insignificant fact to Eamons attention. It could wait.