She yelped with fright when Jenna’s bed also closed. The cockroach bots were back and they began to swarm over her sister’s body. Carmen hurried to the bed and watched as they started to fill the projectile wound with the white gauze threads.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she babbled. Her eyes burned with tears.
She Who Waits’ voice came from the light on top of the little robot. “What is your designation, Carmen Vincent?” Her voice sounded softer than before, distant, and dreamy.
“I don’t understand.”
“Your designation. While on Earth.”
“What do you mean? You know my name.”
“I understand what designate Sylvia Vincent calls you, and what designate Jenna Vincent and designate Agent Raymond Barrett call you. But what is your purpose?”
What did she want to hear? A job description? That she was a wastewater tech in her last attempt at gainful employment? A musician? A caretaker?
“I’m happy you’re alive. But I don’t know what to tell you. I’m a daughter and sister and maybe you and I are friends if that’s possible.”
“I’m trying to sort my responsibilities in light of your actions. You hold the power of the harvester and could have utilized it to destroy a threat to yourself and your family. You showed mercy with unassigned acts of consideration while also demonstrating you’re not a pacifist, unlike the Cordice. While they are splintered, their morality and oaths prevent them from acting overtly against any sentient or each other.”
“I did what I had to do. That doesn’t answer you. I’ll have to think about it. Will you…survive?”
“Yes. I communicated with the Cordice. They were able to activate their medical facilities. Designate Jenna Vincent will recover. But they remain split on what action to take.”
Carmen brushed a film of mold dust from the translator’s bed. “Their home ship is still theirs.”
“At limited capacity unless their caretaker is repaired.”
“So this place is really broken. What does that mean for them?”
“It means they will have to listen. And with the harvester in your possession, you have the voice.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“It’s your ship. I returned it to give to you. It’s up to you to decide what to do with it.”
Carmen surveyed the assembly of Cordice. It felt like facing down a topiary garden. Hundreds of green and brown shapes had gathered into the virtual round amphitheater and sat or stood on all sides of her. The air was warm and held the aroma of forest soil. Orange sunlight filtered through the vine-covered latticework above.
At the front of the council sat the only two Cordice who had spoken since her arrival in the simulation.
One was the engineer, and the other the historian.
The engineer was a mossy centipede coiled about itself with his head held high and slightly cocked as he listened. The historian was a deep green with patches of brown mustard laid out on a bipedal form. He had his arms crossed and Carmen could only wonder if body language carried between their races.
When the historian spoke, there was only a small gap between his clicking words and Carmen hearing them in English. Whether She Who Waits had a role in this was unclear, as she hadn’t manifested within the simulation and there was no red light.
“It is as you say, Carmen,” the historian said. “The ship belongs to us. Relinquishing it is the right thing to do.”
The engineer snapped his mouth. “Relinquish it so it can be immediately handed over to the Melded, dear colleague? Our disparity continues. We have no agreement. You allowed Sylvia Vincent to steal the harvester in the first place. It’s the very heart of our disagreement and an issue we haven’t solved.”
Were the patches of moss on both Cordice standing higher or was Carmen imagining it? They had been at it for what felt like an hour and she was tired of repeating herself.
The historian snapped back, a rat-a-tat-tat of clicks. “Sylvia Vincent made it clear she would bring us and the Melded together if we allowed her to rescue her children from the doomed third world of this system. She’s fulfilled her role. She accomplished what we could not. The Melded are here. We can make amends, assist with their repairs, and detail a plan which will allow those on the Framework who wish to red shift from here to join us. And those of us who would support the fight can remain.”
“You’d split our colony,” the engineer said. “The hardware requirements alone in duplicating our simulation would take as much time as helping the other marooned on the Framework to restore their vessels. And our home ship’s automation is broken. We need our own repairs if we are to survive.”
“As always, you exaggerate, my spore brother. With the harvester, all things are possible. And we made an agreement. We grant the Melded the harvester and allow them to repair their ship first. And we fully restore Sylvia Vincent. These are her daughter’s wishes.”
Carmen stiffened. “Hold up. One, you don’t get to say what I wish. I made it clear what I want before I hand the harvester over. And what are you talking about, restoring Sylvia Vincent? The Melded have her now. She’s out of your simulated world.”
The engineer answered. “She was removed without proper supervision. The process is lengthy. When she was allowed to steal the harvester by my colleague, her consciousness remained seated here. My colleague and his supporters didn’t think to inform any of the stewards who know their craft that she would have her body taken and disconnected. It was…abrupt.”
“So where is
