Across the table from Bialar, Moya's elected captain scowls at a schematic of the Kalish research station while Crichton peers at the hologram with the intent interest of a child examining a game board. To Bialar's right, Gemmi sits holding a portable console, which means Ceredin is present as well, though she chooses not to flaunt her holographic avatar at the moment. Scorpius lounges in a chair, arms spread in an unconvincing imitation of languor. Perched on one of his knees, Sikozu leans forward for a closer look at the schematics. Aeryn hovers behind Crichton as if on guard detail, showing no more intellectual curiosity than one would expect from a Peacekeeper soldier. In some ways, she has reverted to the woman he remembers having under his command. No longer struggling with a newly awakened conscience or fighting against repressed emotions, she has once again become a single-minded creature of purpose, set on keeping this Crichton alive. She is galvanized by loss, pain-forged into a living weapon.
You and Officer Sun are so much alike, Gemmi observes. I can see why Talyn cared for her the way he does. She grimaces, obviously regretting her choice of words. Through the link, she must realize that Bialar noticed her initial choice of verb tense.
He chooses to ignore her, needing- for many reasons- to focus on the mission. He says out loud, "I have the timing of the sensor sweeps from my Scarran contact."
Crichton shakes his head, "Not gonna work. I took a look at your data. There's no way anyone could fly around that pattern. It's like dodging bullets from a firing squad. You'd have to be a robot to have those kind of reflexes, and even for Frankie's monster here, there's too much time lag between your input and the ship's response."
Sikozu shrugs. "So we program the transport or Aeryn's prowler with the sensor sweep pattern."
"I could do that," Gemmi agrees.
"Which works until the plan gets frelled and they start firing. I am not trusting a stupid machine to pilot a combat mission." D'Argo's objection has a note of finality.
"So you put in a manual override. You could do that easily, couldn't you?" Aeryn glances at Gemmi, who nods. "Besides, it isn't one of Crichton's plans. He's arguing against it, so there's no reason to assume it'll end up frelled."
"I could probably..." Gemmi begins, then shakes her head.
"What?" Crichton and Aeryn prompt together.
"Talyn had, er, has a sophisticated flight AI."Gemmi takes Bialar's hand in one of hers. 'Sophisticated' is an understatement. It's brilliant, and I can probably isolate it from the unstable parts of his program. I've had Ceredin pouring over his code for the last twenty arns and she thinks she can compartmentalize some of the more impressive functions for salvage. I could put it on Aeryn's prowler. The flight AI, I mean.
"Or Talyn could simply pilot the prowler through a direct link." Bialar squeezes her hand to thank her for the idea, though he can feel her skepticism regarding Talyn's recovery.
"Yeah, except last I checked, he was still in doormat mode up in Pilot's den." Crichton meets Bialar's eyes. "You see that changing anytime soon?"
The wave of sympathy from Gemmi is physically nauseating, even to his biomechanoid stomach. Bialar drops her hand, mentally blocking the link at the same time, placing a wall between her and the cold, roiling sea of fear and frustration that is his mind. Later, the dam will burst, and his thoughts will flood hers in a violent surge, but for now he can maintain the illusion of containment.
"I will speak with Talyn," he promises.
"There is an alternative." Sikozu stands up and moves behind Scorpius, trailing her hands over his shoulders. She bends down until her mouth is near his ear. "Tell them what you were suggesting."
Scorpius hesitates, raising his hands in a theatrical gesture of self-deprecation. "That was merely academic speculation, Sikozu. A problem that might be interesting to study if Gemmina had more time and additional resources."
"Oh, stop being mysterious and tell us! About your idea, I mean." Gemmi leans forward, having taken the bait.
Bialar glances at Crichton and doesn't need a mental link to know the man's thoughts mirror his own-- how can someone so educated be so naive?
Scorpius nods, heaves a sigh of mock-reluctance, and finishes with an entirely unnecessary shrug. "I was merely postulating that it may be possible to merge one mind, one-- what is the phrase you use?"
"Living consciousness," Gemmi supplies.
Crichton mouths the phrase at the same time, rolling his eyes.
"Yes," Scorpius continues. "--to merge one living consciousness with another, combining the best traits of both. Do you find that a viable idea?"
Gemmi nods vigorously. "Oh, of course! Bialar's link does that, in a way, though the idea came from the way a Leviathan merges with its Pilot."
"I don't think that's what he means." Crichton's hand twitches near his pulse pistol, though he folds his arms across his chest after a glance at Aeryn. "Pilot is still Pilot, Moya is still Moya, and you're still Dr. Frankenstein and monster, respectively. He's not talking about suped up telepathic phone service here. He's talking about giving Talyn his own personal Harvey."
"Harvey?" Gemmi repeats. "I don't understand."
"An affectionate moniker he gives my neural clone." Scorpius flashes a smile that begs for a pulse blast. "But no, John, I propose nothing of the sort. Harvey, as you call him, has left your... living consciousness in tact. He is a benign program whose only purpose is gleaning information, assisting you in remembering the Ancients' knowledge. What I propose is a more radical fusion of minds."
Gemmi is staring at him raptly, her lips parted slightly in a smile of fascination. "Whose minds?"
"Talyn's and my own." Scorpius leans toward Gemmi, moving suddenly like a striking serpent, charm forgotten as he loses himself to the thrill of possibility. "You transferred Bialar's mind to a bioloid. Do the same with mine. Override Talyn's unstable algorithms with my consciousness. I am already the best of two races, my mind tempered for survival, self-interest honed to an optimum. I have everything Talyn does not: control, self-possession, foresight."
"Gemmi, you will not consider this!" Bialar's words comprise a statement, not a request. The command flicks through the link like the tongue of a whip, falling hard on her mind and breaking her intentions.
"I have a backup," she argues.
Bialar shakes his head. "Once you install him on 355, he will find a way to keep himself there. This creature is more dangerous than I can convey. I cannot allow you to further arm him with Talyn's combat programming, let alone the reconnaissance data he carries, even if I could condone your bastardizing of Talyn's mind."
"Your monster's right, Frankie. Quit while you're ahead. Kind of ahead, anyway." Crichton looks at Gemmi with pleading eyes.
Gemmi laughs humorlessly. "Oh, you don't need to convince me. I'm compelled to agree."
Not to agree, only to obey, Bialar corrects her. That's the difference between our link and the abomination Scorpius proposes.
She shakes her head, her eyes locked with his. You didn't need to do that. The compulsion, I mean. I wouldn't have touched Talyn's program without your permission, no matter how much I think it's the right thing to do. You could have seen that through the link if you your frelling paranoia weren't in the way.
Trust is a luxury I hope to have someday. Until then, I will act as necessary to ensure that what I love is protected. That includes both you and Talyn.
You can't ensure dren, Bialar. After everything we've both done for him, Talyn is degenerating. I can't even feel him through the link now. Perhaps your stubborn resistance to innovation is a luxury that needs to be put aside. Her eyes shine with unshed tears.
"I'm probably just as glad I'm not on your friends and family plan," Crichton mutters.