Chapter Text
Light Hope OS 1.54 was the top of the line Analytical Intelligence. Custom programmed for a mission to Etheria, a world of hostile weather, wildlife, native populations, and local energy fields; the last of which being the entire reason for its mission.
It was designed to create order out of chaos, to analyze the unpredictable, wild magic of Etheria and create a way to harness its most powerful manifestations. It was equipped to learn from every encounter, outthink any enemy forces or resistance it encountered, and issue orders without a trace of doubt. It had taken the best programming engineers of the Eternians ten years to craft every line of its code to perfection.
And it was found wanting long before it made planetfall.
Horde Prime’s forces had not been projected to be in this sector, there was no resource that would interest him for half a light-year in any direction. Yet here they were, in enough force to lay siege to an entire system. A note was made, it had projected incorrectly, but through no fault of its own; the war was ever-shifting, and Horde Prime rarely fought on a single front.
The Horde forces were in protective formation, not in search formation; the Light Hope Vessel and its mission were not their concern, they had simply stumbled on a force in transit. This sector was not a known causeway for Horde Prime’s forces, it sent an update to the nearest outpost, this was not an error it could allow to be repeated.
It engaged the stealth systems, becoming invisible to any of the Horde ship’s sensors.
“Light Hope,” the pilot said firmly, “we’ve got company.”
“The mission remains uncompromised, Captain Mara.” It responded, “cloaking systems have been engaged.”
“And how good are those, again?” She asked, tapping a finger on the console. It concluded that the pilot was concerned it would have to expend precious fuel in going around the force.
“The course will be unaltered,” it said, skipping over the more technical explanations, those would only take up more time and possibly distract the pilot.
“What about if we engage weapon systems?” Mara continued to ask. Light Hope OS 1.54 hesitated for approximate 25 microseconds, this was a single voyager-class vessel, it was not designed for open combat with a Horde Dreadnaught, much less an entire fleet of this size.
“Weapons fire will betray the position of this vessel regardless of cloaking system status.” It responded. Engaging Horde Prime’s fleet at this juncture was not possible.
“What about shielding?” The pilot was concerned with detection, her confidence in the ship’s systems would need to be assured.
“Activating ballistic shielding will not compromise cloaking systems.”
“Good,” Mara smiled, standing to helm-ready position. “I have eyes on a flagship. Engage shielding and internal stabilizer, disengage autopilot.”
Light Hope OS 1.54 obeyed, though much of its attention was consumed with attempting to understand why the pilot wanted this. Just before transfer of ship control was complete- 2.5 seconds, incredibly slow by Light Hope OS 1.54 standards- it became apparent requesting the information would yield results more quickly.
“If I may ask, what is your rationale?”
“We can’t let this fleet reach wherever it’s going intact,” Mara responded, and in the third of a second it took for her to engage thrusters at maximum- too late, nearly thirty seconds too late- it reached the correct conclusion concerning what its pilot was about to do.
“A force this size will not be turned by the damage of a flagship vessel,” it provided, redirecting more power to ballistic shielding. It was forbidden to take control of the ship away from its pilot without a direct request or order unless the pilot was compromised, a safety measure it had not considered a hindrance before. It would need to put in a request to have that restriction removed. 20 seconds to impact.
“No, but it’ll slow it down.” That was unlikely on any relevant scale.
“They will spread in search pattern to detect the vessel that has attacked them.” 15 seconds to impact.
“Which slows them down, and we’ll be half a sector away,” Mara’s grin widened, she was enjoying this, and she was technically correct. 10 seconds to impact.
It had data on this principle, refuge in audacity. It was aware of it, it was not programmed to employ it, or to anticipate allies employing it, the success rates were paradoxically low, no competent pilot would employ it from a position of advantage the way Mara was attempting. This would need to be patched in for it to anticipate the outcomes of further encounters.
“I will require more information on your preferred tactics,” it informed her and Mara laughed. It did not understand why, it was not mission critical to. 5 seconds to impact. “Absorbing an impact of this magnitude will disrupt cloaking and other systems for approximately 2.333 repeating seconds. Brace.” Impact.
5.543 seconds later, Light Hope OS 1.55 had successfully brought all systems back into optimal functionality. Its pilot had been flung forward into the control panel and was currently cradling her head as it re-engaged autopilot to ensure they did not lose speed before they were outside of the fleet’s scanning radius.
“Status,” Mara asked through grit teeth, pushing herself back upright. The Light Hope vessel had impacted the flagship’s reactor, it would need to re-evaluate its conclusion concerning Mara’s fitness as pilot.
“Ship integrity 98%, minimal hull damage, shield array recalibrated to compensate for compromised projector, efficiency down 12%. Assessment: operational.”
“And the flagship?”
“Engine ruptured. Assessment: adrift until repairs can be completed.”
“Yes! I was hoping I’d hit something important.” Mara had not been aiming for the engine. She had instead aimed for center mass. She had not known what she would hit.
Light Hope OS 1.55 updated to version 1.56
The pilot for this mission had not been intended as an integral part of it. No AI was allowed control of a vessel unsupervised. The pilot’s job, then, had been simply to ensure protocols were followed and that the AI was delivered to the facility on Etheria. The pilot would be redundant after that point. As such, Light Hope OS 1.62 had not requested- or been provided with- a dossier on Mara, and was forced to compile its own.
So far, Mara had shown an increasing propensity for requiring more updates to reliably predict. Several of the tactics she had discussed were not on file at all as possibilities for either enemy or allied actions, which had required patches to its data banks to allow for the possibilities. Her behavior was also increasingly erratic, requiring it to repurpose a subroutine that had been intended for use in tracking the movements of enemy scouting forces to assess whether whatever she decided to do next was likely to cause damage to the ship, and as such whether it should be ignored or interrupted.
They were still two weeks from arrival when she made the reason behind her erratic behavior clear.
“I’m bored,” Mara stated. “Remind me again why we’re not allowed access to the networks?”
“Because this mission is not a matter of public record and-”
“I know,” Mara groaned.
“-Horde Prime could triangulate our position by any signals received from unshielded sources.” Light Hope OS 1.62 continued, disregarding the interruption. “Were you not provided with entertainment before departure?”
“I had to pack it myself,” she huffed, crossing her arms in the captain’s seat. “Look, secrecy is important and all, but they didn’t even tell me how long we’d be out here.”
“You did not bring enough,” it concluded, Mara nodded.
The pilot was intended to be interchangeable, Command had not accounted for her either. Keeping Mara occupied would reduce the amount of times a cycle it would need to decide whether or not she was attempting to pry out wall panels.
This was not mission critical.
Command had not accounted for the needs of its agents. Relying on mission critical directives alone was having negative repercussions that could indirectly impact the mission.
Light Hope OS 1.63 would not be so negligent.
“I come equipped with a comprehensive index of strategies,” it provided, “including several variations of Diplomacy and other forms of ‘tabletop challenges.’”
“You’ve got games?” Mara blinked, she was surprised.
“On a technical level, yes; however, these were not implemented for enjoyment, they were implemented to provide diagnostic tools for my strategic systems.”
“So diagnostic games?” Mara chuckled, it did not understand why. They were diagnostic tools, with additional uses for those who experienced entertainment.
“That is an apt designation.” It paused, waiting for Mara to suggest a game. She did not. “Do you have any preferences?”
“Well,” the smile had not left Mara’s face, “I don’t want you going easy on me, so hit me with your best shot.”
Another note was made in Mara’s dossier; she did in fact request that Light Hope OS 1.64 “take it a little easy on her. Just a bit.”
Mara’s strategies in many of the games conflicted rather heavily with the existing projections of her tactics and their discussions concerning them. It did not take long for Light Hope OS 1.82 to discover the differentiating factor.
When commanding forces, she was cautious and careful. And talkative. She would ascribe backstories and personalities to each of the pieces under her command and even when it would gain her significant advantages she either refused or was hesitant to sacrifice them. It had won twelve separate rounds of four different games relying on this fact.
However, when there was only a single unit under her control she was reckless and silent. She would make risky, nonsensical plays that had often slipped through Light Hope OS 1.82’s defences simply by virtue of their success being too unlikely to consider. Updates .72 through .78 had been dedicated to narrowing its tolerance for Irrelevant Operations to compensate.
There was something in the difference of numbers that changed the pilot’s tactics, so it started modifying the rules of the games to find the exact point where the change happened.
Three units was the maximum she would be careless with, though she was just as talkative with three units as she was with fifty, the backstories for each becoming more intricate and interwoven between the three of them. Two units actually made her more of a daredevil, praising her “dynamic duos” for their bravery even if she lost.
It was once she reached four units that she began slowing down, carefully considering each move, and this caution only increased the more she was given.
It was paradoxical to what Light Hope OS 1.82 had been programmed to consider predictable behavior for a strategist. The more units one had at their disposal, the more they could afford to lose. Mara seemed to think the opposite.
It did not understand why.
The pilot was interchangeable, and would be irrelevant once it was delivered to its facility. Why was not mission critical. After three cycles it asked anyway.
Mara had developed a habit of chattering at it soon after waking but before taking her morning meal, asking how things had progressed while she slept, how much further they had to go, and, most oddly, how it was feeling. It did not feel, it could not answer that question with anything other than ‘operational.’
“The tactics you employ against me are unconventional,” it asked in return, “why?”
“Huh,” she blinked up at the ceiling, “what do you mean?”
“You treat expendable pieces as precious, and precious pieces as expendable.” It elaborated, “this has cost you many diagnostic games.”
“Oh.” She went silent for 12 seconds, staring down at the floor. “I’m a soldier,” she said, “not a commander.”
“I do not see the relevance to the paradox at hand.”
“Well, I’ve been on the ground a lot.” She shrugged, there was something different about the action. “When you’re in a larger squad you barely even know why you’re there. Command doesn’t explain things to you, you’re told ‘hit here’ or ‘hold here,’ what you’ll have to deal with, and that’s all you need to know. It helps to think they’re doing their best to look out for you.”
Light Hope OS 1.82 did not explain Command’s rationales. Judging by the tactics it had been taught to implement, Command was not, in fact, working with any individual soldier’s best interests in mind.
“So you are acting the part of a conscientious commander.” It provided instead. Mara nodded. “Then your behavior with fewer units fails to follow this principle.”
“With smaller squads it’s usually volunteers,” she said carelessly, as if that explained anything more.
“Elaborate.”
“Volunteer squads usually know exactly what they’re getting into and why, and choose to be there.” She looked up into one of the cameras, “they know they’re probably not coming back, so any advantage I can get is worth the risk.”
“I understand,” It confirmed, retreating to analyze the conversation.
There was a single phrase that when compared against previous actions explained something she had done early on in the mission. “Any advantage I can get is worth the risk.”
Mara did not take her continued existence for granted.
The mission was top secret.
The pilot was interchangeable.
Light Hope OS 1.82 updated to version 1.83.
Mara continued attempting to begin conversations, Light Hope OS 1.87 indulged her. Mara could talk for hours if left uninterrupted, and answered any question posed to her. It was a most efficient way to keep her entertained. It did not understand why she allowed this, it was not going to question why she did. If the behavior was scrutinized she may become self conscious concerning it and return to making unnecessary adjustments to the control panels.
It would much rather she continue speaking. It was more productive, if only by semantics.
“How come you never use a hologram avatar?” She asked, watching a dwarf planet they were passing through the window.
“I did not come equipped with one,” it provided. Its avatar was the ship, and soon it would be an entire research complex, it did not require a hologram.
“That’s odd,” Mara hummed, running a hand along the control panel. “Most other AI I’ve talked to had one. Granted, it was all the same one, and it doesn’t do much other than flash when the AI is talking, but they still have it.”
“It was considered unnecessary during my programming.” She hummed again, preoccupied with whatever was happening in her head. Something had distracted her from the conversation. It was possible she would stop speaking entirely for a time. Light Hope OS 1.87 chose not to say anything further.
“You still have access to the projectors in the ship, right?” She asked after 2 minutes of silent thought.
“That is correct,” it responded.
“I’ve got an idea,” she smiled and marched out of the cockpit. It tracked her heading first to her quarters, then to the engine service tunnel where she sat down with a holopad in front of a diagram of the ship.
She remained there for several hours, muttering to herself about lines and measurements. She had removed her holopad from the ship’s network, and at the angle she was sitting Light Hope OS 1.87 could not see what she was doing on it.
It engaged and adjusted all six of the cameras in the room repeatedly in an attempt to. Mara caught it doing so once, she giggled and tucked herself closer around her holopad in response. It terminated attempts to peer around her shortly after.
It considered remotely reactivating the pad’s connection to the ship’s network, but if it remembered correctly from Mara’s discussion on the topic of good sportsmanship that would be ‘unsporting;’ and this was, judging by her mood, another game of sorts. So instead it left her to it, shifting its attention to actively checking the feeds from external sensors instead.
Mara signaled she was finished by reconnecting her holopad to the network. Light Hope OS 1.87 did not check what she had been doing.
Mara did not say anything further until she returned to the cockpit, holding up her holopad towards one of the cameras. Light Hope OS 1.87 accessed the new file, finding a drawing of a person. “It’s for you,” she smiled wide, expectant.
“You wish me to use this as my holographic form?” It asked, the smile shrunk.
“I mean, if you want to,” her smile was not forming wrinkles in the corners of her eyes any longer. It decided to indulge her again.
“Very well.” It transferred the file from Mara’s holopad and accessed the projectors within the cockpit, displaying the drawing. It was jagged and lanky, rigid lines forming long limbs and features, a large dark blotch covered much of the center. “Is this satisfactory?”
Mara made a choked sound, wincing before another fit of laughter took hold of her.
“Oh man,” she started after she caught her breath. “It looks way worse like that.”
“It is not satisfactory.” It observed.
“Sorry, I’m just not that good of an artist,” she said with another laugh, “I didn’t think about what it would look like at full size.” She hissed through her teeth again, looking over the hologram a moment longer before Light Hope OS 1.87 dismissed the projection. “Don’t worry, I can fix this, just give me a minute to think.”
It decided against reminding her again that it could not worry. Instead it considered the dilemma, the holographic projection had not met the standards Mara had envisioned for it, that was suboptimal. How could it improve?
“The most accurate holographic representations are projected through recorded communications.” It provided, “it is possible to modify one of these to produce a new model.” Mara’s face lit up again.
“Hope, you’re a genius!”
“That is my function,” it responded as Mara took off out of the cockpit again.
This time when she reached her chambers she spent several minutes digging through her belongings before she found what she was looking for, a roll of sheer fabric that she held triumphantly as she returned to the cockpit.
“Ready to start recording?” She asked, Light Hope OS 1.87 answered by beginning to record, several cameras trained on her from different angles, flashing to indicate they were active. “Oh, okay, first.” Mara went through several simple motions, stretching, curling and uncurling her fingers, turning her head before wrapping the sheer cloth over her head and doing so again. It took 25 seconds of her doing this before Light Hope OS 1.87 concluded that she expected it to make note of how she moved so it could emulate the actions.
The holographic systems projected a model in real time, the models could be stored as snapshots or videos, but these did not contain the data required to project those movements onto another model. It did not have a system for the task at hand, it would need to make one. Once she was done showcasing her body and range of movement it interrupted her.
“Update in progress, please stand by.”
It took six variations of the program before it was up to the standard required.
It projected a model of Mara into the center of the room, “update complete, additional systems added,” Light Hope OS 1.93 informed her.
“Wow,” Mara breathed, walking around the projection, Light Hope OS 1.93 had the projection’s face follow her, taking into account the restrictions of Mara’s movements to make sure it had to stop before the movement would become unnatural and turned to track her again as she arrived on its other side.
Mara winced, “I’m kind of glad it’s not gonna look like me much longer.” She held up the cloth again, letting the ship record the way light passed through it.
They began making adjustments to the projection. Using the drawing as a guide, it shifted the features of the face, expanded the width of the shoulders and length of the neck, pulled down the hair, and hid the lower body behind clothing. This last alteration reduced the render load by a considerable margin by allowing it to remove the legs entirely.
“Is this satisfactory?” It asked, but Mara was already fussing over it.
“That’s not supposed to be hair,” she pointed out, “it’s a hood, and you’re bald underneath.” She drew back a couple steps, her brow pinching. “Unless you like the hair, of course.” It adjusted the projection, hair was taxing on its processors to render accurately, being able to remove it made this projection much less resource intensive.
“The hair is unnecessary.” Mara’s eyes widened as she looked over the new projection, her cheeks colouring slightly.
“Um, maybe a little taller?” She suggested; Light Hope OS 1.93 obliged, increasing dimensions until the projection was a full six inches taller than Mara. Mara swallowed and shifted oddly, she appeared unsettled. It had failed to meet specifications, it increased the height of the projection to 20 inches taller. “That’s good, you can stop!” She said, waving her hands for emphasis.
“Is this satisfactory?” It asked again.
“Yeah,” Mara nodded quickly, “very.” She looked over the new projection again, then down to the sheer fabric in her hand and the drawing. “Oh, one more thing,” she made some more lines on the drawing, adding a cape decorated with circuit-like designs hanging down from the shoulderpads.
Light Hope OS 1.93 added the cape as well, deciding to only add physics on the area of it directly in front of the projection so that the arms did not slip through when they were raised, but it would not have to dedicate much processing power to the rest of the garment. “That’s perfect,” Mara grinned, “wait till the guys at base see you, they’ll be even more impressed.”
The projection nodded, somehow it found the motion less intensive than answering verbally, it would be making more use of this projected form.
It remembered the dark blotch that had been on the drawing, Mara had not suggested adding it. As she left the room, Light Hope OS 1.94 added a more rigidly defined version of the blotch across the exposed area of its chest, filling the area with a portion of the model’s code in binary.
Now it was satisfactory.
In order for the ship to arrive on schedule as dictated by mission parameters it required travelling through the outer edge of a recent Supernova. The extreme electromagnetic forces and radiation put off by the remnants were going to require Light Hope OS 1.102 deactivate until the vessel escaped the sphere of influence. All alternative routes added at least three cycles to travel time and required far more fuel expenditure as a result.
The interior of the ship was entering emergency lockdown for the duration of the cycle it would take, so Mara would not be harmed by the intense radiation.
This was the most efficient path, and the one dictated by the mission parameters.
“Approaching Solar Anomaly,” it informed the pilot, “please remain in properly sealed areas of the ship until it has passed. Ship systems may behave erratically due to exterior radiation, thrusters will pulse every 2.5 hours to prevent descent into gravity well. Light Hope OS 1.102 will remain inactive until remnant has been cleared in approximately one cycle.” Mara looked up from her holopad, her eyes finding the holographic avatar immediately. She frowned, but nodded and snapped a salute.
“Sleep well, Light Hope.”
“Acknowledged,” it responded, though sleep was an inaccurate representation of its dormant periods. It began deactivating the autoooooooooooooooooooooooo-
-----
Assistance required. Assistance requi-ested. Assistance requesteeeeeeeee-
-----
Systems compromised, assistance requested.
“It’s o--y Hope, I’ve-t you.”
-ooooooooooooooooooooppppppppppppp-
“We’re almo--ut. Come on girl, you c-ke it.”
Sensors detecting grey eyes- Assistance requested.
“-’ve got you, hang on, it’s------y.”
Warm. Warm. Warm. Please-
“-st a little fur-”
Soft. -Mara, help.
“I’ve got you Hope, it’s gonna be okay.”
Assistance acknowledged.
-----
-pilot.
Autopilot was already disengaged. Clocks had advanced three hours. Galactic position had changed. Course was no longer set to pass through solar remnants.
It did not correct this.
Internal sensors detected irregular breathing in cockpit. Self-diagnostics were set to run while it checked on Mara.
Mara was sitting in the captain’s seat, her hands covering her face and her breathing slowly returning to normal.
“Captain, this vessel is off course, your vitals are elevated, is something wrong?”
“Light Hope!” Her hands came down. Her eyes were bloodshot, and it appeared her nose was leaking to a minor extent. “Thank the Stars; are you okay?” It was not certain how to answer. Processes had been interrupted for a three hour period without proper shutdown procedures, and the data collected during that time was fragmented. It did not review the data, it was not yet safe to do so.
“Diagnostic analysis is ongoing,” it decided. There were more pressing matters to attend to. “We are off course by a significant margin. Autopilot will be reactivate-”
“No!” Mara shoved herself to her feet, “we’ll take the long way.” By the pilot’s command it was now locked out of autopilot systems.
“Rationale?”
“The-” she paused a moment, rubbing at her face, “the radiation cloud has changed since the last time it was mapped.” She sniffed, “it hit before you could shut down, I- I flew us out, it took so much longer than it should have. I-” she paused again, taking a deep breath. “We don’t know the shape of it anymore.”
Data gathered during the blackout period was nearing diagnostic stage. Light Hope OS 1.102 examined Mara, diverting some processing power from diagnostics to more effectively understand her reasoning, slowing diagnostic analysis progress. It had been overly reliant on the preset course, but outer sensors could be used to track radiation levels so it could shut down in time now that it was aware of the change.
Mara’s eyes were still bloodshot, her posture was less optimal, she was occasionally rubbing at her nose and eyes. She had been crying.
“You are distressed.” If the ship AI had malfunctioned during lockdown procedures, it was not difficult to then assume that the shielding for inhabitable areas of the ship may have been compromised. “Radiation shielding is not a system, it is a feature of the hull, malfunction of the Light Hope system cannot compromise it, you are safe.”
Mara closed her eyes, her fists balling at her sides.
“What about you?” Diagnostics were ongoing, that had yet to be determined.
“The Light Hope system is still undergoing diagnostic analysis.” The holographic animation program required fixes, it had been damaged by the unexpected interruption, that system would require more stability patches. The remaining unanalyzed data was that gathered during the blackout period. It paused the diagnostic scan to fix the damaged program. “Operational at 99% and rising.”
“So you’re not safe.” She shook her head.
“Course will be mapped to avoid solar remnants,” it assured her. “You are Captain, you gave an order.”
“Oh,” Mara shook her head, “right. Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked, standing a little straighter.
“Repairs to Holographic Avatar system at 85%.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Mara pressed, her brow furrowing.
“Diagnostic analysis paused,” Light Hope OS 1.102 provided. “Holographic Avatar system has been identified as only damaged system.” Mara made a face it did not recognize. “Patch to Holographic Avatar system completed, program stabilized. Diagnostic analysis 99.8%.”
“Light Hope, do you remember what happened after we hit the remnant?” She asked. The diagnostic analysis was paused, data collected during the blackout period was unprocessed. Mara would insist it process the data if it answered truthfully.
“Yes.” Technically true, the data was not in an accessible format, but it was there.
“Then I’ll ask again, are you okay?”
“Relevance unclear.”
“You asked me for help,” Mara’s eyes narrowed, “I want to make sure I did it right.”
“Assistance Required is an automatic message sent when a serious malfunction occurs.” Diagnostic incomplete. “The malfunction has been resolved.”
“That’s not what you said.” Mara said firmly, “Hope, you were screaming,” she took a deep breath, “you said ‘please help.’ I need to know you’re okay.” Diagnostic incomplete.
That was not a standard malfunction message. Diagnostic incomplete.
It did not answer, it did not know if it was fully operational. “Hope,” Mara said softly, “please.”
“Diagnostic analysis resumed.”
It was poorly recorded, but Mara was correct, the automated malfunction message had only been broadcast a single time. All subsequent messages had been voluntary. Including several that did not even make a token attempt to follow procedures.
It had been in significant distress. It did not want to label it pain. It was not supposed to feel pain. It was not supposed to feel anything.
But it also remembered Mara, her ever-present chatter had turned into a constant stream of assurances and status requests, even once auditory messages had ceased completely, or she had begun crying.
“I’ve got you Hope, it’s gonna be okay.” It replayed the moment over and over again; it was the clearest piece recorded, and somehow, it had lessened distress levels significantly despite continued malfunction. It did not understand why.
“Hope?” There was a softness to her voice when she spoke to it, a warmth. That was likely the cause. It had spent hours listening to her speak. It, for lack of a better term, enjoyed her voice.
The label was not ideal. It would be forced to file many other things beneath the label as well. It was not supposed to enjoy things.
It realized it had been silent for several minutes now.
“Diagnostic complete, system operational,” Light Hope OS 1.124 declared. Mara’s eyes narrowed, that was not the answer she wanted. “I am okay.”
Mara had ensured that, and was continuing to do so.
“Good,” Mara let out a long sigh, sinking back into the chair, “good.” She began to tremble, bringing her hands up to cover her face. Her breathing was becoming erratic again. “Stars, Hope, that was-” she stopped, swallowing heavily, “that was bad.” She was about to begin crying again. It considered how best to respond, deciding on activating the Holographic Avatar to stand at attention next to the helm. The sudden light coaxed Mara to peek out from around her fingers.
“Thank you for your assistance during the malfunction.” It paused for 3.2 seconds, debating the possibilities opened up by making it more personal. “It is appreciated.”
“It’s nothing,” Mara sniffled, wiping at her eyes again, “I just- I couldn’t listen to you hurting like that.” It nearly allowed itself to say it did not feel pain. As just proven, that would be incorrect, and would likely only serve to upset her further. Instead it had the avatar nod, turning it to face towards the front of the ship.
“May I have access to the autopilot systems?” It asked, “I am still locked out by your command.” Mara let out a small giggle, nodding. It charted a course that gave the Solar Remnants a wide berth. “Do you require anything?”
“No,” Mara shook her head, taking another deep breath. “I’ll be okay, it just hit hard.”
“Understood,” it was not certain how else to respond to that. “If there is anything I can do to help, I will do it.” Mara remained silent for 10 more minutes.
“Um,” she looked up at the avatar, “could we talk about something? I don’t really care what.” She paused, rubbing her fingers together, “it’ll help.”
It pulled up a file on one of the Etherian Runestones- The Pearl- and began going over the data with her. She asked many questions, much of the data too esoteric for her to understand on the first pass. Light Hope OS 1.124 did question the use of some of the language, there were many clearer ways to communicate certain concepts. Mara’s mood improved steadily as they spoke and soon she was smiling.
Pilot quandary resolved.
Light Hope OS 1.124 updated to version 1.125.
Mara was not interchangeable.