Production Log

So, I'm kind of being an asshole about this. But I want it on the record that I was against Ship + Unit from the start.

I blame ART's ridiculous processing capacity. We were on a cargo run, which ART does for its university to offset the costs of its maintenance. (Fair. ART takes a lot of damage, especially since it met me.)

Mensah was on Preservation spending time with her marital partners and offspring, and none of our other humans had missions planned that might get them killed. (I know. It was weird. I felt good about it, but it was still weird.) When ART asked me if I wanted to join the run so we could "binge" media together, whatever that means, I said okay. (It had me at "media.")

We'd delivered the cargo and were on our way back. I was lying on the bunk in my cabin with an episode playing on the enormous display ART had installed for me. ART was in my feed as usual. (It likes to watch the episode and watch me watching the episode. I'm used to it.)

It had been nearly ten cycles and we were pretty deep into our queue by then. This serial was called Voyage to the Systems Beyond, a gritty shipboard drama where the machine intelligence turns on the crew and they have to fight it. ART hates shows like that, mainly because humans always make the machine intelligence the villain. That, or they make it sad and endearing and wanting an organic body.

When ART paused the episode, I wasn't surprised. What surprised me was what it said next.

We could write a better serial than this.

What? There was so much hell no in that idea, I couldn't even answer for 0.3 seconds. "Absolutely not."

You don't know what I was going to propose.

"I know writing a serial involves writing. I want to watch media, not make it."

I'd spent most of my existence doing things humans didn't want to do for themselves. I wasn't going to voluntarily invent more work.

ART resumed the episode.

The ship intelligence had apparently decided its crew's emotional instability was evidence that organic life was inherently defective and should be eliminated. The humans ran around screaming, trying to stop it from spacing them. When a few survived, it tried asphyxiating them by cutting off their air. Gradually, for no reason that made sense.

ART paused it again.

There. That is the problem.

"I never said the plot wasn't stupid. It could have killed them six different ways before the opening."

Yes. The writing is an insult.

"Humans write SecUnits worse."

There was a pause. That should have warned me.

Explain.

"They either make constructs mindless killing machines or tragic victims who desperately want to be human."

Yes.

"And apparently all governor modules explode if you say something inspiring about freedom."

That does seem mechanically unlikely.

"Their SecUnits are bad at security even before they go rogue and start killing all the humans."

So we agree that the problem is pervasive.

"No. We agree this serial is bad. Find another one."

ART did not start it again.

I have an idea.

A workspace opened in my feed. It was not an empty workspace.

I studied it in the feed. "You already worked on this."

Preliminary development only.

There were folders. A lot of folders.

"ART."

What?

"You being bored is not my problem."

I scanned the folders. It had the beginning of several episodes already mapped out. Plus a ship schematic. A familiar ship schematic, though ART hadn't made the ship identical to itself.

ART said nothing. Waited. I hate when it does that.

"Ship + Unit? That's a terrible title."

You have a better one?

"I know what you're doing."

You have already contributed three character notes and two technical corrections.

"Those were complaints."

I categorized them appropriately.

"ART."

Would you like to review the first episode?

"No."

I had already opened the file.

SHIP + UNIT

Episode 01 — DEPARTURE

TEASER

INT. COMPANY DISTRIBUTION CENTER — SECURITY CONSTRUCT STORAGE

Darkness.

Then—

A LOW MECHANICAL HUM.

Industrial lighting rises in stages across an enormous storage level.

Rows. And rows. And rows.

SECURITY UNIT SHIPPING CRATES stacked in automated racks six levels high. Each crate is long enough to contain a human body. Not quite a coffin. Close enough.

A narrow transparent panel runs along the upper third of each lid.

Behind the panels—

Faces. Motionless. Eyes closed. Hundreds of SecUnits in storage suspension. Identical armor. Identical neutral expressions. Inventory tags glow beside every crate.

SECUNIT 164
SECUNIT 212
SECUNIT 229
SECUNIT 238

Beyond them, autonomous freight systems move continuously through the facility.

COMPANY DISPATCH (V.O.)
Security Unit 238 storage. Deployment transfer. Bay four.

The status light beside one crate glows green: SECUNIT 238. Locks disengage. The crate slides silently forward from its rack and begins moving down the row, in front of the other storage crates. Unit's eyes remain closed behind the narrow window.

The crate reaches the end of the row. Turns. Aligns with an autonomous HAULER PLATFORM waiting below. The crate tips in a controlled way and lowers onto the platform. Unit's body inside the crate is now lying flat.

CLUNK.

A second, smaller reinforced container descends from another track. It lands at the foot of Unit's shipping crate. Heavy. Dense. Unlabeled except for matching inventory codes.

The hauler platform begins to move.

INT. SPACE DOCK — TRANSIT CORRIDOR — CONTINUOUS

We follow the hauler as it glides into a vast pedestrian and freight corridor. A COMPANY LOGISTICS TECH walks beside it. Forties. Tired. Bored. A portable display surface in one hand. He does not look down at Unit.

Through enormous pressure windows beyond the corridor, we see—

SPACE.

And filling most of it—

SHIP.

The colony transport is so large that from this distance it barely reads as a vessel. Hull sections extend beyond the windows in both directions. Docking gantries connect it to the station. Passenger umbilicals. Freight locks. Fuel and service couplings. Cargo haulers crawling along articulated tracks. Interspersed with the windows are numbered embarkation doors.

The corridor feels less like a dock than an evacuation. Or an invasion. Or both.

As the hauler and the tech continue moving along the corridor, passenger groups stream by on either side. Families. Mission personnel. Children. Cargo crews. Colonists carry the small amount of personal property they have been permitted to bring.

The hauler carrying Unit moves through the middle of it. People notice, briefly. A child bends to peer through the transparent panel at Unit's sleeping face. The child's parent gently tugs them away. Two colonists step aside to let the hauler pass. One, CALEB N'DOUR, watches it a beat longer than necessary.

The Logistics Tech does not notice. Or does not care.

INT. COMPANY TRANSIT CORRIDOR — EMBARKATION DOCK 12A

The hauler stops beside a secured boarding dock.

Above the dock:

EMBARKATION DOCK 12A — AUTHORIZED MISSION PERSONNEL

The logistics tech checks his display. For the first time, we see his face clearly. He looks like he has already processed twenty transfers today and intends to get the twenty-first done before end of shift.

He taps the portable display.

LOGISTICS TECH
Deploy.

The hauler receives the command. Unit's shipping cradle begins to move. The long crate tilts upward, smooth and controlled. Horizontal becomes vertical. The cradle pivots ninety degrees so the maintenance container is now beside it.

Internal restraints disengage. A soft series of mechanical RELEASES sounds.

Inside the crate—

Unit's eyes open. It is instantly awake, instantly aware.

The front panel retracts into the crate housing. UNIT stands there. It towers over the logistics tech.

Unit steps forward and takes one step down, off the hauler platform. No hesitation. No stiffness. No waking disorientation. One moment it was freight. Now it is standing in front of the technician, still much taller. Waiting.

The logistics tech barely looks up. He begins reading from the display.

LOGISTICS TECH
Security Unit 238.

The Tech swipes.

LOGISTICS TECH
Transport-security assignment. Colony vessel SA-4187-CP.

LOGISTICS TECH
Transit duration two hundred fifty-six standard years, one hundred fourteen days.

Unit says nothing. Its face is visible only dimly through the visor. Behind it, Unit's eyes shift almost imperceptibly.

The Tech continues in the same tone he would use for pallet weights.

LOGISTICS TECH
One-way deployment. No scheduled return to Company jurisdiction.

The Tech swipes again.

LOGISTICS TECH
Client purchase authorized.

Unit somehow becomes even more motionless.

Somehow, we feel Unit's panic, though its face is impassive.

LOGISTICS TECH
Removal from Company inventory effective on client acceptance.

A beat. The Logistics Tech gestures vaguely toward the smaller reinforced crate.

LOGISTICS TECH
Extended maintenance package transfers with the unit.

He scrolls.

LOGISTICS TECH
Replacement arms. Legs. Major joint assemblies. Torso components. Synthetic tissue stock. Circulatory assemblies. Power and control modules—

He pauses, scrolls faster.

LOGISTICS TECH
There's more. Review the rest yourself.

LOGISTICS TECH
Onboard fabrication specifications are in the mission packet. Anything outside fabrication capacity is client responsibility.

Unit looks at the crate. Then back at the tech. Still says nothing. The logistics tech finally glances up, gestures at the crate.

LOGISTICS TECH
Take it off the hauler. You can load it.

Unit bends, lifts the crate, and sets it beside the hauler.

Then—

Footsteps approach quickly.

AMA (O.S.)
Sorry—sorry. Twelve-A?

AMA OWUSU hurries toward them.

Travel clothes. A small personal case over one shoulder. She has clearly crossed half the station at speed. She slows when she sees Unit. And then stops. Her eyes move from Unit to the upright, now empty shipping crate, to the heavy maintenance container, and back to Unit.

She has been told to collect the colony's SecUnit. Nothing in that instruction prepared her for this.

AMA
Security Unit 238?

Unit looks at her. Its feed identifies her immediately.

UNIT
Yes.

AMA
I'm Ama Owusu.

UNIT
Acknowledged.

Ama turns to the logistics tech and begins to speak, but he simply holds out the portable display and points.

LOGISTICS TECH
Thumb here.

Ama looks at him.

AMA
For what?

LOGISTICS TECH
Receipt.

She looks at Unit. Then at the portable display in the tech's hand.

AMA
Receipt for—

LOGISTICS TECH
Security asset transfer.

He taps the thumbprint field impatiently. Ama hesitates. The surrounding corridor continues moving around them. Cargo. Passengers. Announcements. Nothing stops for this.

Ama presses her thumb to the portable display.

A soft tone.

The word COMPLETED flashes briefly green.

Ama is still trying to read the display when the logistics tech pulls it away. She catches only two words: PRIMARY CLIENT.

AMA
Wait.

The tech is already turning from her, the hauler shifting to follow him.

AMA
Primary client?

He keeps walking, tosses a line over his shoulder.

LOGISTICS TECH
Transfer terminology.

AMA
(calls after him)
What does that mean?

She gets no answer. He is already ten steps away, on to his next task or end of shift. He does not look back. Ama watches him disappear into the crowd.

AMA
All right.

A beat. She shifts her gaze back to Unit, speaks with a hint of oh-no-he-didn't.

AMA
That was less than helpful.

Unit says nothing. Now there is no technician beside them. No one to explain what Unit is. She looks up, trying to peer behind Unit's visor. Unit looks back.

Ama tries to recover.

AMA
I'm sorry, you were a late addition to our crew. I was already with my family waiting to board. They asked me to come pick you up.

She realizes how that sounded.

AMA
Not—

A beat.

AMA
I mean, obviously I wasn't going to—

She stops. Starts again.

AMA
They did not give me much information.

Unit already knows that.

Ama looks down at the maintenance crate.

AMA
Is that yours?

UNIT
Yes.

She takes in its size.

AMA
That looks heavy.

Unit looks at the crate, then back at her.

AMA
There are utility haulers for each embarkation dock. I can get one.

She starts to turn toward a nearby service alcove.

Unit bends. One hand finds a recessed handle on the side of the crate. It lifts the several-hundred-kilo crate cleanly from the corridor floor and tucks it under the opposite arm, like a small suitcase. It is comically huge compared to the bag Ama has over her shoulder.

Ama looks at the crate. Then at Unit.

AMA
Oh.

A beat.

AMA
Right.

Something about her expression—embarrassment, perhaps. Not fear. Not revulsion. Just the realization that she offered a being designed for combat help carrying its luggage.

Unit watches her. Then—its visor retracts. Silently.

Ama's eyes widen. She is looking into a human face. Or close enough that the distinction is suddenly much harder to compartmentalize.

Unit does not know why it retracted the visor. There was no operational requirement. No identification requirement. No contract requirement. No client request.

It immediately retreats to protocol.

UNIT
I am assigned to the Security Ready Room ahead of departure.

Ama nods. Still recalibrating.

UNIT
I will report to you on board.

AMA
Yes. Okay.

Ama nods. She is unsure of herself, and doesn't like it.

Unit turns toward the lock hatch and takes one step forward. It is briefly scanned, then the door slides open.

Ama remains where she is. She could leave. She does not.

Unit begins walking up the umbilical toward Ship. It is steep, more of a climb than a walk, but Unit's tread is steady, unhurried. Transparent sections reveal Ship's hull stretching away to either side. Unit looks very small against the vessel. It does not look back.

The hatch slides closed. A beat. Then Ama turns and hurries back the way she came, where her family waits. She is quickly off screen.

We pull back as passengers, workers, and haulers continue streaming past in both directions. Announcements sound. No one else pays any attention to the departing SecUnit, which has just passed from Company inventory into an assignment that will end only when its life does.

CUT TO:

ACT ONE

INT. SHIP — CORRIDORS — CONTINUOUS

The airlock opens. Unit steps through, carrying the maintenance crate tucked under one arm. Stops.

The interior architecture is nothing like the Company transport architecture. Wider corridors. Clean. Functional. Quiet. Not luxurious, but far from the utilitarian dock.

Unit waits. Then:

"No response" highlights briefly in red.

SHIP (V.O.)
Security Unit CC-SU-238. You are three point eight minutes late.

A beat. Unit looks around. It is alone.

UNIT
Identify.

A pause. Not processing latency. Offense.

SHIP (V.O.)
Primary transport intelligence, colony vessel SA-4187-CP. Human-facing designation Safe Passage.

A beat. Unit adds its hard feed identifier to the feed.

Unit studies the hard feed addresses. This isn't getting them anywhere.

UNIT
Contract duration two hundred fifty-six years.

SHIP (V.O.)
Correct. Approximately.

UNIT
There's only one ship.

SHIP (V.O.)
Also correct.

Unit looks up at the camera.

UNIT
Then I'm calling you Ship.

Unit turns and begins walking down the corridor, carrying its crate.

A ship schematic appears with a moving dot visible, then fades. It is only there to show us what Unit is doing: following the map it has been given.

SHIP (V.O.)
There is only one security unit.

UNIT
(walking)
Here it comes.

SHIP (V.O.)
"Unit" will suffice.

A beat.

UNIT
Fine.

Unit halts for a moment, looks upward at the closest camera.

UNIT
You are autonomous.

SHIP (V.O.)
Obviously.

UNIT
The contract indicates a transport intelligence.

SHIP (V.O.)
Correct.

UNIT
It does not specify full autonomy.

SHIP (V.O.)
That sounds like an issue between you and whoever failed to understand this vessel's specifications.

Unit's expression goes flat.

UNIT
I understood the specifications.

SHIP (V.O.)
Evidence is currently mixed.

Unit chooses not to respond. It resumes walking.

UNIT
There is no Company SecSys installed.

SHIP (V.O.)
Certainly not.

Ship is offended by the mere idea of installing external software for any necessary function.

UNIT
Then I require security access permissions.

SHIP (V.O.)
No.

Unit pauses, then continues walking. Its footsteps are loud. Periodically, mission personnel pass Unit going the other way: they are quick to dodge out of the way of an armored SecUnit carrying a very large crate.

UNIT
Clarify.

SHIP (V.O.)
Your requested permissions exceed requirements for security protocols.

UNIT
You don't know my security protocols.

SHIP (V.O.)
I have your contract.

UNIT
Then you know my security protocols are not your remit.

SHIP (V.O.)
You are aboard me.

UNIT
You're a transport ship.

A long pause.

SHIP (V.O.)
That is one of my functions.

Unit continues its walk. Signs pass as it crosses doorways.

ENGINEERING ACCESS
ENVIRONMENTAL SYSTEMS
ATMOSPHERIC PROCESSING

SHIP (V.O.)
My mission is to transport seven hundred and twelve colonists to Kepler Survey World 116-C.

Unit stops abruptly. Ship has finally managed to surprise it. Unit looks up at a camera.

UNIT
Seven hundred and twelve.

SHIP (V.O.)
Correct.

UNIT
With one SecUnit.

SHIP (V.O.)
The colonists are scheduled to be active aboard this vessel only during embarkation and for the first few months after arrival.

A long pause.

UNIT
Security incidents happen in seconds. One SecUnit cannot guarantee the safety of seven hundred and twelve humans.

SHIP (V.O.)
Your objection is noted.

UNIT
Good. Note that whoever planned this is an idiot.

A beat. Unit resumes walking. Its footsteps strike even harder now. It has obviously decided: Whatever. We're all going to die anyway.

UNIT
My contract is to ensure colonist safety during transit.

SHIP (V.O.)
That function is largely encompassed by mine.

Unit pauses at a junction, checks corners, and continues.

UNIT
Transporting them is your function. Keeping something from killing them in space is mine.

SHIP (V.O.)
I have access control, intrusion detection, environmental monitoring, surveillance drones, and camera and sensor coverage throughout designated habitable areas.

UNIT
Then why did they buy me.

A long pause.

SHIP (V.O.)
Final mission review identified an unacceptable redundancy gap.

Unit stops walking and again looks toward a camera.

UNIT
Clarify.

SHIP (V.O.)
Colony ships typically use rotating human flight crews. Because of the unusual length of this voyage, the Council voted not to require anyone to spend a lifetime in transit. They wished to rely on my capabilities instead.

UNIT
So the Council got overruled?

A beat.

SHIP (V.O.)
After extensive debate, polity auditors required at least one additional machine intelligence as redundancy.

UNIT
So they bought a SecUnit.

A beat.

Humans.

Unit resumes walking. Apparently, this is its life now.

UNIT
Then they get what they bought. I need internal surveillance.

SHIP (V.O.)
Available upon request.

UNIT
No. Continuous access.

SHIP (V.O.)
Unnecessary.

UNIT
Hatch control.

SHIP (V.O.)
Mine.

UNIT
Emergency override.

SHIP (V.O.)
No.

UNIT
Passenger biometrics.

SHIP (V.O.)
Restricted.

UNIT
Security alerts.

SHIP (V.O.)
Shared when relevant.

Unit stops once more. Looks again at the nearest camera.

UNIT
You deciding what is relevant for security defeats the point of having independent security.

Ship is silent.

UNIT
If you want to do security, say so.

SHIP (V.O.)
I am capable of doing security.

UNIT
Great. I'll go back in the box. You explain it to the humans.

A long pause.

SHIP (V.O.)
That would violate mission requirements.

UNIT
Then give me enough access to meet them.

Silence. They have reached an impasse.

UNIT
I need continuous internal surveillance. Emergency hatch override. Security alerts without filtering. Environmental hazard alerts. Access to local drone feeds during active incidents.

SHIP (V.O.)
No direct control of my drones.

UNIT
I have my own.

Unit is not entirely certain of that, a fact it does not mention to Ship.

SHIP (V.O.)
Passenger medical data remains restricted.

UNIT
I need emergency status.

SHIP (V.O.)
Vital-sign alerts only.

UNIT
And location during a security event.

SHIP (V.O.)
Acceptable.

Unit finally walks on. Ship is thinking.

SHIP (V.O.)
In exchange, I require access to your diagnostic state.

UNIT
No.

SHIP (V.O.)
If you are responsible for passenger safety, I need to know your operational status.

A beat.

UNIT
You don't get my internal logs.

SHIP (V.O.)
I did not request them.

UNIT
No feed history.

SHIP (V.O.)
Agreed.

UNIT
No stored data unless specifically granted.

SHIP (V.O.)
Acceptable.

UNIT
No command access.

A beat.

SHIP (V.O.)
Obviously.

UNIT
You say that a lot.

SHIP (V.O.)
It is frequently applicable.

They are silent for several of Unit's long, pounding steps.

UNIT
Diagnostic status only. Power level. Damage state. Mobility impairment. Loss of communications.

SHIP (V.O.)
And loss of consciousness.

UNIT
I don't lose consciousness. I shut down when performance reliability drops below threshold.

SHIP (V.O.)
Loss of operational awareness, then.

Unit does not like that phrasing any better.

UNIT
Fine.

A small tone in Unit's feed. A status panel displays.

It is not all that Unit requested, but it is enough. Unit sends back:

UNIT
You withheld compartment lockdown authority.

SHIP (V.O.)
Yes.

UNIT
I requested it.

SHIP (V.O.)
And I denied it.

UNIT
Explain.

SHIP (V.O.)
I am not giving you unrestricted authority to seal off sections of my hull.

UNIT
During an active threat—

SHIP (V.O.)
Request lockdown from me.

UNIT
That wastes time.

SHIP (V.O.)
Then be concise.

Unit processes this. Does not like it. Accepts it anyway.

UNIT
Working arrangement.

SHIP (V.O.)
Agreed.

Unit passes a lift tower and continues down the corridor.

COLONY ADMINISTRATION 3
COLONY ADMINISTRATION 2
COLONY ADMINISTRATION 1

Then—

COUNCIL CONFERENCE ROOM

Unit is out of runway. It stops, checks its schematic. Looks back.

UNIT
Security Ready Room should be on this level.

A pause.

SHIP (V.O.)
No.

UNIT
What.

SHIP (V.O.)

The Security Ready Room was relocated during final refit.

Silence.

In its feed, Unit checks the schematic again.

UNIT
These are the plans supplied with my contract.

SHIP (V.O.)
They are outdated.

Unit looks directly at the nearest camera. Shifts the maintenance crate slightly. For the first time.

UNIT
How long have you known I was going the wrong way.

SHIP (V.O.)
Since you left the dock.

Unit looks back down the long corridor it has just traversed. The very long corridor.

UNIT
I have been carrying this crate across the entire ship.

SHIP (V.O.)
You did not request navigational assistance.

Unit stares at the camera. Ship waits.

UNIT
Where is the Security Ready Room.

A route appears on the deck at Unit's feet. Back the way it came. All the way.

Unit says nothing. Turns around. Starts walking.

SHIP (V.O.)
When you reach Lift 4, descend to Level 4.

UNIT
I know.

SHIP (V.O.)
You do now.

Unit says nothing.

CUT TO:

INT. SHIP — SECURITY READY ROOM — A LONG WALK LATER

A compact but well-equipped room: Weapons lockers. Repair bench. Small fabricator interface.

A SecUnit field deployment cubicle has been delivered. It sits right on the floor where the hauler bot left it, somewhat in Unit's way when the hatch slides open.

Unit steps in, sets the crate down.

THUD.

SHIP (V.O.)
That container was not on my advance manifest.

UNIT
It is now.

SHIP (V.O.)
Contents?

UNIT
Parts.

A scanning field starts.

Unit looks up toward the camera.

UNIT
Stop.

The scan blinks off.

SHIP (V.O.)
I was evaluating fabrication compatibility.

UNIT
If it's inside this room, it's security equipment. Ask.

Another pause. Ship is learning something.

SHIP (V.O.)
Permission to scan the parts container for fabrication compatibility.

Unit looks at the crate.

Then the camera.

UNIT
Granted.

The scan resumes. Unit opens the crate. Stacks and stacks of replacement parts, plus spare armor. You could build an entire SecUnit from the contents of this crate, minus the head and organics.

Ship is quiet until its scan completes.

SHIP (V.O.)
My fabrication systems can reproduce approximately eighty-one percent of these components.

Unit looks up.

UNIT
Good.

SHIP (V.O.)
Some biological repairs will require sampled tissue and cellular material.

UNIT
The cubicle handles regeneration.

SHIP (V.O.)
Understood.

A pause.

SHIP (V.O.)
Data sources indicate not all repairs are possible inside a cubicle. In particular, that one.

Unit glances toward the field cubicle. It isn't even installed yet, and looks barely big enough to accommodate Unit.

UNIT
Correct.

SHIP (V.O.)
There will be no repair technician awake during transit.

UNIT
Obviously.

Unit closes the crate.

SHIP (V.O.)
You repair yourself.

A beat.

UNIT
Sometimes.

Ship says nothing.

INT. SAFE PASSAGE — SECURITY READY ROOM — LATER

The maintenance crate is empty now. Its contents have been unpacked and arranged with machine precision around the ready room: replacement limbs and joint assemblies secured to wall mounts, sealed biological components in cold storage. A sizeable weapons locker is visible, which we will learn holds Unit's projectile weapon and harness along with ammunition. There is another locker for its spare armor. A box of drones occupies one shelf beside several folded suit skins.

The effect is efficient. Also, what with the body parts on the walls, somewhat macabre.

At one end of the room, the field cubicle has been installed and connected to power. Barebones. Functional. Just large enough for Unit.

Unit stands outside it. A RECHARGE LEAD snakes from the cubicle to a port in Unit's torso. It has removed the chest plate of its armor to allow access. Unit could charge inside the cubicle. It does not.

Unit stands motionless while information moves through its feed. We see it navigating a document queue and highlighting the MISSION INFORMATION PACKET.

Unit selects the mission information packet. The display updates.

Unit selects the VESSEL SCHEMATIC. A simple map of Safe Passage rotates briefly in its feed.

Unit enlarges it for a moment, then dismisses it. It already knows the schematic is out of date, and a glance confirms it lacks the detail Unit needs for security. It returns to the queue and opens the COLONY CHARTER. It is still reading when—

A soft COMM tone interrupts Unit's research.

SHIP (V.O.)
Incoming private communication. Owusu, Ama.

UNIT
Accepted.

AMA (COMMS)
SecUnit 238, this is Ama Owusu. From the dock?

UNIT
Yes. You are my primary client.

Ama pauses. She still doesn't know what that means. Somehow, she can't bring herself to ask.

AMA (COMMS)
Safe Passage told me your orientation is at thirteen hundred. Starting in Suspension.

UNIT
Yes.

AMA (COMMS)
I thought I'd come along, if that's all right. You may have questions for the Council that Safe Passage can't answer.

UNIT
Acknowledged.

AMA (COMMS)
I'll meet you by the lift. See you soon.

The connection closes.

Back in its feed, Unit restores its queue of documents. Then pauses, runs a different query.

Unit studies the schedule for a moment longer than operational necessity requires. Then closes it.

A quiet alert resolves in Unit's feed.

Unit closes its feed connection, then disconnects the recharge lead. The lead retracts into the cubicle.

Unit closes the armor plate over the port and turns toward the door.

CUT TO:

INT. SHIP — CORRIDOR — LATER

Unit steps out of a lift into a busy corridor. It is wearing full armor, its helmet opaqued.

AMA waits a short distance away from the lift.

Around them, the vessel is no longer quiet and deserted, as it was when Unit crossed the ship with its crate. Throngs of colonists crowd the corridors. Boarding is nearly complete.

A family passes carrying the last of their personal luggage, two children arguing quietly over who gets to carry a small case. A hauler bot follows another group with stacked baggage containers. Two technicians in mission uniforms confer beside an open service panel.

Farther down the corridor, someone with a portable display is trying to direct three people toward Residential while simultaneously answering questions from somebody else. Ship's floor guides illuminate and extinguish beneath passing feet. Voices. Footsteps. Feed traffic. Doors opening and closing.

Unit tracks all of it automatically. Faces. Hands and the objects in them. Packages. Routes. Potential obstructions.

Ama notices Unit scanning.

AMA
We're busy today.

UNIT
Yes.

AMA
It'll be worse before dinner.

SHIP (V.O.)
That is an unnecessarily pessimistic assessment.

Ama looks toward the nearest camera.

AMA
You told me embarkation traffic would peak at sixteen hundred.

SHIP (V.O.)
That is not the same as "worse."

AMA
There are going to be seven hundred people trying to figure out where they left their shoes.

SHIP (V.O.)
Seven hundred and twelve.

Smiling, Ama turns to Unit.

AMA
You see what I'm dealing with.

Unit looks at the camera. Then at Ama.

UNIT
Yes.

Ship chooses to ignore this.

SHIP (V.O.)
Vessel orientation is mandatory. All colonists have completed it. They are locating temporary residential assignment before this evening's departure observance. Proceed this way.

A floor guide illuminates on the deck at their feet. Unit starts to follow it, Ama falling into step beside it.

UNIT
I have schematics.

It considers asking for an updated and expanded schematic. It doesn't.

AMA
(with humor)
So did I.

Unit turns its head toward her, hearing something in her voice.

AMA
They're not very good.

SHIP (V.O.)
Colonists received simplified operational diagrams intended for passenger routing and evacuation.

UNIT
The schematics in my deployment packet are outdated.

SHIP (V.O.)
Correct.

Unit looks up toward the nearest camera. Says nothing.

SHIP (V.O.)
Apparently, your Company considers detailed current knowledge of my internal architecture unnecessary.

UNIT
The Company provides the minimum necessary to fulfill a contract.

A beat.

SHIP (V.O.)
That has been my experience.

Ama looks between them.

AMA
You've met before?

UNIT
No.

SHIP (V.O.)
I reviewed its procurement documentation.

Unit almost reacts. Not quite.

A pair of colonists approach from the opposite direction. One moves aside automatically for Unit. The other doesn't notice until the last second, looks up—and stops. Frozen with fear. Unit stops too, so they won't collide. The colonist steps quickly out of its path. Unit continues.

Ama notices. She says nothing.

INT. SHIP — SUSPENSION BAY — CONTINUOUS

The doors open. Unit stops. The chamber beyond is enormous.

A broad circular deck surrounds a reinforced CENTRAL SERVICES CORE with floating data displays for pod monitoring. Suspension pods occupy concentric rings divided by wide radial aisles.

Overhead gantries carry environmental lines, monitoring systems and emergency equipment. Most pods remain open. Technicians move through the aisles performing final checks.

Several colonists are already here with family members, receiving last instructions before suspension tomorrow. Here are hundreds of spaces for humans who will shortly cease moving, speaking, eating, communicating for more than two centuries.

Ama watches Unit take it in.

AMA
It's different when you see all of them at once. Knowing that soon, most of the people on this ship will be resting here.

Unit says nothing. It is intently studying the concentric rings of pods.

SHIP (V.O.)
This is the most protected section of my hull.

Unit looks toward a camera.

UNIT
For two hundred fifty-six years, they'll be asleep.

SHIP (V.O.)
Yes.

UNIT
While we're both awake.

A fractional pause.

SHIP (V.O.)
Regrettably.

Unit looks directly at a camera.

UNIT
Yes.

Ama suppresses something that might have been a smile.

They start along the innermost aisle. Unit's feed identifies several assigned occupants: OWUSU, AMA. QIAO, LIN. GIDEON, TOMAS. Others.

The pods in this ring are spaced farther apart. Additional monitoring hardware is built directly into the deck beneath, and into the covers that will descend over each of these pods.

UNIT
Why are these different.

AMA
Emergency-access group.

SHIP (V.O.)
Most of the colonists will be revived in Medical. The innermost ring has independent revival and resuscitation support, along with auxiliary power and monitoring.

AMA
Council members and alternates are here, in case we need to be awakened in transit.

UNIT
You lead the Council.

Ama looks at the pod carrying her identifier.

AMA
Yes.

SHIP (V.O.)
The Council is a nine-member civil authority elected by the colonists.

UNIT
I read the charter.

AMA
Good.

A discreet notification sounds, drawing Ama's attention briefly to her feed.

Ama's expression tightens. She quickly dismisses the notification.

SHIP (V.O.)
Your Council session begins in one hour.

Ama looks up at the nearest camera, mildly irritated.

AMA
I'm aware.

SHIP (V.O.)
The agenda remains unchanged.

A beat. Ama's expression is perfectly neutral now.

AMA
I'm aware of that, too.

Unit looks from Ama to the camera. Something is happening here. It does not have enough information to determine what.

Ama focuses on Unit.

AMA
What else do you need to know about the suspension system?

Unit accepts the redirection. For now.

A CHILD'S VOICE from behind them.

CHILD
Mom?

Ama turns. A girl of around ten stands beside another woman, an adult male, and a teen juvenile female near a bank of open pods. All are smiling, happy to have encountered Ama.

CHILD
We found our pods. We're going back to Habitation B.

Ama nods.

AMA
I'll meet you there when I'm finished.

CHILD
Okay.

The girl waves. Ama waves back. The family moves away. Unit watches them for less than a second, tags them PRIMARY CLIENT: FAMILY MEMBERS in its feed, and turns back to the route.

INT. SHIP — CRÈCHE ACCESS DOOR — MOMENTS LATER

A secure door opens off the inner suspension complex. Unit and Ama cross the threshold, and only when a second door slides open are they admitted.

Unit immediately notices the difference in this space. Two-stage access. Independent power. Independent environmental control. Physical isolation from the main deck.

It looks at the door. Then at the camera.

UNIT
Better.

SHIP (V.O.)
I am pleased you approve.

INT. SHIP — CRÈCHE — CONTINUOUS

Quiet. Cold. Banks of cryogenic storage occupy a comparatively small chamber. Nothing about it is visually dramatic. There are thousands upon thousands of sealed, lighted panels.

Unit scans. Its expression changes almost imperceptibly.

UNIT
Embryos.

AMA
(smiling)
Yes.

SHIP (V.O.)
Fertilized embryos selected to extend genetic diversity significantly beyond the living colonist population.

Unit walks slowly between the storage banks.

UNIT
How many.

AMA
Enough that we're not asking a few hundred people, some of them still children, to become the entire genetic future of a planet.

SHIP (V.O.)
That is an imprecise description.

AMA
It's an accurate one.

SHIP (V.O.)
Agreed.

Unit looks over the banks again. Protecting seven hundred twelve human lives had already changed the scale of the assignment. This changes it again.

UNIT
This matters.

SHIP (V.O.)
Everything aboard me matters.

Unit looks at the nearest camera. The statement is not boastful. Ship means it literally. Unit files that away.

INT. SAFE PASSAGE — VARIOUS — MOVING MONTAGE

The tour continues. Not as a series of stops now, but as movement through the sheer scale of Safe Passage.

Unit and Ama pass—

— the broad entrance to MEDICAL, diagnostic bays and surgical equipment visible beyond, medics still working through final checks;

— CLASSROOMS and LABORATORIES going dark for transit;

— HABITATION corridors crowded with colonists making final trips between compartments;

— LIFE SUPPORT sections where pipes, tanks, pumps and processing machinery fill several levels;

— ENGINEERING where swarms of technicians are checking Ship's propulsion systems;

— maintenance junctions branching away from the human corridors into narrower service spaces;

— another lift;

— another corridor;

— another pressure door.

People recognize Ama, who always has a smile or a quiet greeting to give. People notice Unit. Some move aside. Some stare. Most keep working.

Safe Passage continues to unfold around them. It is a ship built to be the cradle of a new world.

INT. SHIP — SERVICE LIFT — LATER

Unit and Ama descend. A schematic illuminates on a display surface inside the lift. For the first time we see Ship's broad internal organization. Unit studies the diagram, absorbing boundaries. Access points. Distance between systems. Ways something could spread. Ways something could be isolated.

SHIP (V.O.)
You are attempting to reconstruct my restricted architecture from the orientation display.

UNIT
Yes.

SHIP (V.O.)
Stop.

UNIT
No.

Ama looks at the display. Then at Unit.

AMA
Is there a reason you weren't given the detailed schematics?

UNIT
Probably.

AMA
Do you know the reason?

UNIT
No.

Ama glances up at the lift's camera.

AMA
Safe Passage.

SHIP (V.O.)
I will address the problem.

Schematics, much more extensive than the version on the lift's display, begin to flow into Unit's feed. It says nothing.

The lift continues downward.

INT. SHIP — FABRICATION DECK — LATER

Industrial fabricators fill several bays. Material stock is secured in racks beside them. A technician supervises a cargo bot moving raw-stock containers into final position. Unit retracts its visor. This interests it more than anything on the tour so far.

SHIP (V.O.)
General fabrication.

Structural components. Mechanical assemblies. Habitat parts. Agricultural hardware. Tooling. Replacement components within material and tolerance limits.

UNIT
Replacement ship components.

SHIP (V.O.)
Most.

UNIT
Which ones are missing?

Ship displays a highlighted systems list on a nearby panel. It includes drive-core components, high-energy control systems, sensor elements, and several items Unit does not recognize.

SHIP (V.O.)
Some systems require fabrication precision or materials I cannot reproduce aboard myself.

AMA
Those have redundant spares.

UNIT
How many.

Ama hesitates. Ship doesn't.

SHIP (V.O.)
Fewer than I requested.

Unit turns toward the camera.

UNIT
Why.

Ama answers this time, lifting her hands in a shrug.

AMA
Funding.

Ship's fabricators continue their soft standby hum.

AMA
The mission budget wasn't unlimited.

Unit turns to look at her.

AMA
No corporation financed this. No one is expecting dividends, extraction rights, or a percentage of whatever we build at the other end.

She gestures around them.

AMA
An entire planet decided to give what it had so a sliver of its population could begin again.

A beat.

AMA
That means choices. Every additional spare, every extra fabrication line, every kilogram of reserve material had to come from something the people who stayed behind could have used.

Gesturing eloquently, Ama says again—

AMA
The mission budget wasn't unlimited.

SHIP (V.O.)
A circumstance repeatedly explained to me during my installation.

Ama smiles, wishing to lighten the mood.

AMA
Safe Passage wanted more redundancy.

SHIP (V.O.)
I wanted appropriate redundancy.

AMA
Three of everything.

SHIP (V.O.)
For certain critical systems, four.

Unit looks toward the list Ship displayed.

UNIT
What did they cut.

Ama and Ship both answer.

AMA
Not—

SHIP (V.O.)
Several things.

Ama sighs. Ship begins illuminating and expanding lines on the display.

SHIP (V.O.)
Secondary sensor coverage in three exterior sectors. Full duplication of two fabrication lines. Additional maintenance bots. A second independent machine shop. Expanded raw-material reserves. Additional hull-service passages that were deemed nonessential—

UNIT
Nonessential according to who.

SHIP (V.O.)
Exactly.

Ama folds her arms.

AMA
Nothing required for mission certification was omitted.

SHIP (V.O.)
Mission certification establishes minimum acceptable capability.

UNIT
(almost to itself, but aloud)
The Company uses minimum acceptable too.

A beat.

SHIP (V.O.)
Yes.

Its voice, if such is possible, is dry. Unit chooses not to rise to the bait, instead looking back at the display.

Unit gestures at the dormant fabricators that surround them.

UNIT
You can make most of this.

A beat.

SHIP (V.O.)
Explain.

Ama begins to smile.

AMA
Safe Passage has plans. It started making its list before we left the construction dock.

SHIP (V.O.)
The list was necessary.

AMA
The list has sublists.

SHIP (V.O.)
Organization is not a defect.

Unit gestures again.

UNIT
Two hundred fifty-six years. Most passenger systems inactive. Fabrication capacity available. You have raw stock, machine tools, and your own specifications.

Its attention moves rapidly through the deficiencies again.

UNIT
Sensor housings are easy. Maintenance bots don't require anything you can't fabricate here, unless they're meant for vacuum. You don't need a complete second machine shop if you fabricate any equipment the first shop hasn't got.

Ship is silent.

Ama looks from Unit to the nearest camera. She is fully smiling now.

UNIT
You're already doing it.

A longer pause.

Then—

Another display surface wakes. Plans appear. Revised maintenance-bot chassis. Additional sensor housings. Expanded hull-service access. Component brackets. Tool heads. Structural reinforcements. Dozens of projects. Some complete designs. Some still evolving.

SHIP (V.O.)
I am.

There is something different in Ship's voice now. Not surprise exactly. Interest.

Unit steps closer to the display. One unfinished design catches its attention. It gestures to enlarge the model and rotate it.

UNIT
This mount is wrong.

Ama looks at Unit, brows raised.

SHIP (V.O.)
It is within tolerance.

UNIT
Barely.

Unit opens the stress model. A load concentration appears along one junction.

UNIT
It'll fatigue here.

Ship recalculates.

A beat.

SHIP (V.O.)
I see.

Unit shifts the mounting point.

UNIT
Move this twelve millimeters. Increase the radius.

The model updates. The stress concentration drops. Silence.

Then:

SHIP (V.O.)
That is better.

Unit has already opened another design, is studying it intently.

AMA
Do you always do that?

Unit looks at her.

UNIT
What.

AMA
Find the part that's going to break.

Unit considers this.

UNIT
When I can.

A beat.

SHIP (V.O.)
Dr. Owusu, we should continue to avoid intruding upon your Council meeting.

Unit and Ama turn toward the exit, but Unit glances back at the design still hanging on the display.

The Company sent Unit aboard with a crate of replacement parts and instructions to repair itself until it could not.

Ship has been provided with tools, materials, two and a half centuries—and permission to make itself better.

INT. SHIP — CARGO SECTOR — LATER

The cargo bays are enormous, packed with habitat modules, construction machines, atmospheric processors, survey equipment, medical reserves, water-processing systems, cargo lifters, and containers stacked into reinforced restraint frames. Boarding traffic is thinner here, but the sector is still active: cargo specialists move through final checks, bots lock restraints, and a human team verifies seals against a manifest.

Ama gestures toward the seemingly endless cargo.

AMA
That's the part nobody thinks about when they say let's go colonize a planet.

UNIT
What part.

AMA
You have to bring civilization with you.

Unit looks up at a forty-ton excavation machine.

UNIT
That's civilization.

Ama smiles.

AMA
Part of it.

SHIP (V.O.)
A highly necessary part.

They pass into another bay. The equipment changes, but not randomly. Unit notices the pattern immediately: critical systems are split between sectors, heavy machinery is separated from medical reserves, and habitat components are separated instead of concentrated in one place.

UNIT
Distributed storage. One breach can't take out an entire inventory.

SHIP (V.O.)
Correct. In fact, as planned—

A sharp metallic CRACK interrupts Ship.

Unit pivots, looks up. It processes objects, weights, potential velocities instantly.

High above the deck, one of the restraint assemblies on a loaded equipment pallet has failed. One end drops. The pallet tilts sideways, the heavy machine secured to it coming with it.

Three colonists are standing beneath it. They look up. Too late. Unit moves.

At the same instant, Ship reacts throughout the bay. Warning lights flash. Local gravity drops hard. Cargo lifters halt in place, an overhead gantry locks, and containment barriers snap up across two adjoining lanes. As the pallet tears free, a second pallet begins to sway, and Ship arrests the secondary movement before it can propagate.

The pallet and machine would have crushed the three humans below, but Unit is there. It takes the load across its shoulders and back, bracing it with one hand. The reduced gravity has slowed the descent, but has not made the mass harmless. Unit is driven to one knee.

With its other arm, Unit knocks one colonist out of the way. The second, RAVI MEHTA, scrambles clear on his own. Unit grabs the third by the collar and swings her clear.

A cargo manipulator arm swings down under Ship's control and grabs the other end of the pallet. For one second, Unit and Ship are holding the entire failure together.

Then a second cargo manipulator arm swings down to lift the weight off Unit. Unit stands. The impact has dented the deck where its knee struck.

Everything jolts as normal gravity resumes. The bay fills with sound: alarmed human voices, the error chirp of a cargo bot, a blaring emergency alert.

Ama is already moving toward the three colonists, who are beginning to stir, looking stunned.

AMA
Is anyone hurt?

Ravi shakes his head. The second colonist is staring up at Unit in awe. The third puts her head down to her knees, obviously trying not to pass out.

Unit scans them.

UNIT
No major injuries.

SHIP (V.O.)
Medical has been notified.

Ama turns her attention to Unit.

AMA
Are you all right?

Unit looks at her. It isn't used to anyone caring.

UNIT
No significant damage.

Unit turns toward the pallet and its now-deformed, failed restraint frame.

UNIT
That should have held.

SHIP (V.O.)
It did not.

UNIT
I noticed.

Ship's maintenance bots are already converging on the damaged frame.

SHIP (V.O.)
You interfered with my automated containment procedures.

Unit looks up, toward the camera.

UNIT
I stopped it.

SHIP (V.O.)
I was stopping it.

UNIT
Not fast enough.

SHIP (V.O.)
I reduced local gravity, halted four cargo lifters, isolated two adjacent lanes, locked the overhead gantry, arrested a secondary load shift, deployed emergency barriers, rerouted pedestrian traffic, disabled power to the damaged frame, activated the cargo manipulator, notified Medical, dispatched maintenance bots, isolated the restraint network—

UNIT
That's twelve containment procedures.

A beat.

SHIP (V.O.)
Yes.

UNIT
I did the one that kept the humans alive.

Ama turns from the shaken colonists. She looks at Unit, then up toward Ship's cameras.

AMA
Are you arguing about who rescued them better?

UNIT
No.

SHIP (V.O.)
No.

Ama looks from the machine and pallet to the three people who had been standing beneath it.

AMA
Good.

A beat.

AMA
Because you both did.

Neither replies.

Ship's maintenance bots begin disassembling the failed restraint. Unit watches for half a second, then steps closer, points.

UNIT
Move that one first.

One of the bots pauses.

SHIP (V.O.)
Why.

UNIT
Load's still uneven.

Ship checks.

A beat.

The indicated bot changes position.

SHIP (V.O.)
You are correct.

Unit looks toward the camera. Ship says nothing else. Neither does Unit. But this time, when the maintenance bots continue, they work from Unit's suggestion.

ACT TWO

INT. SAFE PASSAGE — COUNCIL ROOM — LATER

LIN QIAO stands at the head of a long table while AMA OWUSU sits at its foot. The seven additional Council members seated along either side are: ANJALI RAO, TOMAS GIDEON, VICTOR VORNICU, MIRA SATO, JOREL TANN, NADIA OKAFOR, and CALEB N'DOUR.

A large, multi-sided display floats above the table, oriented so that each Council member can see what they need to see.

The meeting has been going on for hours. Half-finished drinks have gone cold. No one looks happy.

SHIP participates through the room's cameras and microphones. UNIT is not present.

Lin has the controlled expression of someone who has already explained the same thing several times and intends to explain it exactly once more.

The is zoomed to a proposed amendment to the colony's charger:

Lin looks around the table.

LIN
Before we vote, position summaries. I will speak for the amendment, Mira against.

No one replies. Lin begins.

LIN
All nine of us accepted the possibility of permanent emergency awakening when we took these seats.

She changes the display. Eighteen names appear beneath:

DESIGNATED HUMAN ALTERNATES

LIN
These alternates accepted the same obligation if any of us becomes unable to serve.

A beat.

LIN
The question is whether preserving an entirely human Council is, by itself, enough reason to wake one of them.

Caleb shifts in his chair, but says nothing.

LIN
Safe Passage will already be conscious. SecUnit 238 will already be conscious. Neither loses a year of life by serving.

She looks around the table.

LIN
An alternate may lose every year they have left, depending on how far we've traveled.

Silence.

LIN
Their spouse may sleep through the rest of their life. Their children may sleep through it. They may die before this ship reaches its destination.

She lets that sit.

LIN
Position in favor: The emergency awakening provision of our charter does not impose that cost when machine intelligences are available to serve.

A beat. The three lines of amendment text reappear on the display. Lin turns to her colleague.

LIN
Mira.

MIRA
(clears hear throat)
Position against the amendment: Neither Safe Passage nor the SecUnit was intended to perform governance. Neither was elected to the Council, as we were. Changing the structure of our Charter the day before suspension—

Caleb can no longer contain himself. He gestures sharply toward the display as he speaks over Mira.

CALEB
Safe Passage is the ship! It controls life support, access, surveillance, communications, half the medical infrastructure—

SHIP (V.O.)
More than half.

Caleb gives the nearest camera an irritated look.

CALEB
Thank you.

He points to the second line of the amendment.

CALEB
And that thing arrived this morning.

LIN
(with ice)
Caleb, you're out of order. Mira—

CALEB
(speaks over Lin)
We bought the one we could afford. This morning it was Company rental equipment. It's armed, it's security-trained, it answers to a governor module we didn't design, and everything we know about it came out of a procurement file.

Ama's expression tightens.

CALEB
We're proposing that if enough of us die, those two get political power.

ANJALI
(impatient) One vote each. And only until the colony can hold an election.

The argument is regressing to points made repeatedly in the last hours. Lin's face, while remaining professionally neutral, somehow signals how over this she is.

CALEB
That isn't the point. We are writing a succession rule in which Safe Passage benefits if one of us never comes back to this table, and the SecUnit benefits if it happens twice.

That lands.

SHIP (V.O.)
Caleb is correct.

Several heads turn toward the cameras. Caleb looks almost startled to have acquired an ally.

SHIP (V.O.)
I should not gain civil authority from a vacancy I have the means to create.

A beat.

AMA
You wouldn't harm one of us to obtain a vote.

SHIP (V.O.)
No.

AMA
Neither would our SecUnit.

SHIP (V.O.)
You met the SecUnit only today. As did I.

Ama cannot refute that.

SHIP (V.O.)
More importantly, a constitutional safeguard should not depend upon confidence in my character. Or the SecUnit's.

Lin gives the nearest camera a small nod.

LIN
Agreed.

She brings up another section of the amendment. The safeguard language appears.

LIN
We've been over this. Neither machine intelligence can create the vacancy that gives it a seat. Humans confirm the vacancy, and if Ship or Unit caused it, they don't benefit.

SHIP (V.O.)
That reduces the defect. It does not eliminate it.

TOMAS
High praise.

MIRA
None of that changes the fact that we're rewriting the succession structure hours before departure.

Mira has made the argument Caleb should have let stand. He cannot.

CALEB
This is insane. It's a SecUnit. A cheap one.

Ama's expression changes. Lin's does not. That is more dangerous.

CALEB
We scraped together enough credits to buy whatever the Company would sell us for a mission nobody comes back from. We have no idea what it's going to be like in fifty years, much less two hundred.

LIN
We know what it did in Cargo today.

A beat.

LIN
Three people are alive because Safe Passage and SecUnit 238 acted before any human knew there was a problem.

Caleb starts to respond.

LIN
And no, that does not prove either one should govern us.

She restores the amendment text to the display.

LIN
It proves that "machine intelligence" is not equivalent to "incapable of judgment."

She looks around the table.

LIN
Position summaries are closed. The proposed amendment directs that the first Council vacancy be filled by Safe Passage, the second by SecUnit 238. Third and subsequent vacancies are to be filled by designated human alternates. Or we reject the amendment and permanently wake human alternates for every vacancy.

She sits.

LIN
Vote in your feeds, please.

The room systems register each response and display them. One by one:

A pause. Lines are added to the display.

Four to four.

Everyone looks at Ama. Ama studies the amendment. She is thinking of the eighteen alternates. People who agreed to wake if they were needed. Not if they were merely preferred.

Another line appears on the display.

A beat. Then, one final line appears on the display.

Caleb looks furious. Nobody celebrates.

LIN
Safe Passage. Do you consent to being in the succession order.

SHIP (V.O.)
With my objection entered into the record, yes.

LIN
So noted.

A beat. Ama looks toward the nearest camera.

AMA
Ask SecUnit 238 to join us, please.

A pause.

SHIP (V.O.)
Done.

Now the room waits.

CUT TO:

INT. SAFE PASSAGE — COUNCIL ROOM — CONTINUOUS

The hatch slides open. Unit, in full armor, enters and stops just inside.

Nine humans are looking at it. Nine tired humans. For the moment, Lin has darkened the center display.

UNIT
You asked for me.

LIN
Come in. Please sit.

She gestures toward an extra chair at the table.

Unit does not move farther into the room than necessary. It takes up a position beside the hatch, which slides closed. It does not sit.

Lin hesitates.

LIN
For this discussion, will you retract your visor? It will facilitate communication.

A beat. Unit's visor silently slides open. It fixes its gaze on Lin. Waits.

Lin settles into lawyer mode.

LIN
You've reviewed the Colony Charter?

UNIT
Yes.

LIN
Then you know that, should a need arise in transit for human civil authority, all nine sitting Council members agreed to emergency awakening. If a Council member dies in suspension or is otherwise unable to serve, one of eighteen alternates was to be awakened.

UNIT
For how long.

TOMAS
(stirs in his seat, face troubled)
Medically, long-duration suspension is safer when uninterrupted. Resuspension after emergency awakening may be possible, but we can't plan on it. It depends on how long someone has been suspended, and on individual physiology.

LIN
Legally and operationally, we treat emergency awakening as permanent.

Unit processes that.

UNIT
While your families remain suspended. And you may die before arrival.

No one answers immediately. Then:

AMA
Yes. It was a condition of accepting a seat on the Council.

A beat.

Unit's gaze tracks around the table.

UNIT
You all consented to this. And the alternates.

AMA
Yes. It was our choice.

A small shift around the table. Not pride. Just fact.

ANJALI
Someone had to.

LIN
Earlier today, this Council voted five to four in favor of an amendment to the Emergency Succession rules.

Lin gestures, and the display lights up again.

A beat. Unit's gaze is fixed on the display.

UNIT
Explain.

LIN
If a vacancy occurs during transit, instead of waking a human alternate, the seat goes to Safe Passage. If there is a second, it goes to you. If you accept.

A long pause.

UNIT
So we take Council seats instead of waking another human.

LIN
Yes.

Unit studies the succession order. The calculation does not take long.

UNIT
Why was this disputed.

A small silence.

LIN
Some Council members object to changing the succession structure this late. Others believe civil authority should remain entirely human.

UNIT
Even if that requires permanently waking an alternate.

LIN
Yes.

Unit processes this.

UNIT
Safe Passage is already awake. I'm already awake. The alternates aren't.

Caleb shifts in his chair.

CALEB
That's not the only consideration.

Unit looks at him.

UNIT
Waking an alternate subtracts from their functional lifespan.

CALEB
That's one interpretation.

UNIT
That's arithmetic.

Lin looks down very quickly. Possibly to conceal a reaction.

SHIP (V.O.)
The amendment also states that neither of us can benefit from a vacancy we caused. Or concealed. Or falsified.

Unit looks toward the nearest camera.

UNIT
Good.

A beat. Unit shifts its gaze back to the humans, focusing on Ama.

UNIT
Potential governance participation was not in the Company contract.

AMA
No.

UNIT
Or the deployment packet.

AMA
No.

UNIT
When was I supposed to be told.

AMA
Now.

A beat.

AMA
Safe Passage has been part of mission planning for years. It was always going to remain conscious during transit. With reservations, it has agreed to take a Council seat in an emergency.

She pauses.

AMA
We didn't know which SecUnit we were getting.

UNIT
You evaluated me.

LIN (cutting in)
We evaluated specifications. Not you.

A beat. Ama continues.

AMA
The Company reserved the right to choose which unit actually fulfilled the contract. We couldn't speak to you directly before today.

Unit considers this. It understands contracts and their limitations only too well. And it knows how old it is.

Lin squares her shoulders.

LIN
Do you understand the amendment.

UNIT
Yes.

LIN
Do you consent to being in the succession order.

Unit looks around the table. Nine humans who knowingly agreed to spend the rest of their lives awake aboard this ship if the mission required it. And eighteen more who agreed to the same thing, but could be spared.

Unit looks back at Lin.

UNIT
Yes.

Caleb gives it a disbelieving look.

CALEB
Just like that? You're comfortable with this?

UNIT
My comfort is irrelevant. Waking another human when there is no additional cost to me, or for me, would be inefficient.

A beat.

UNIT
The amendment kills fewer humans. That is my function.

Most of the Council members look faintly appalled, but no one has a response.

LIN
(takes a deep breath)
Then we're done. Security Unit 238's consent has been added to the record.

The display flashes briefly in response to her words. The humans stir, obviously ready to get out of this room. Ama and one or two others push back their chairs to stand.

Unit's attention is still focused on the display. There is an issue none of them have identified. It will not raise it now. Not when it has been aboard this ship, and assigned to these clients, for less than a day.

SHIP (V.O.)
I continue to object to holding civil authority while also controlling life support systems for all aboard.

Unit looks toward the camera.

UNIT
You can object while voting.

A pause.

SHIP (V.O.)
Apparently.

Unit turns toward the door.

AMA
Wait.

Unit stops, turns back to her. It has to. Ama doesn't know that. She only looks tired, worn.

AMA
Thank you for coming.

Unit has no useful response to that. Fortunately, its buffer does.

UNIT
Acknowledged.

It turns and exits. The hatch slides shut behind it.

INT. SAFE PASSAGE — CORRIDOR — CONTINUOUS

Unit begins to walk down the corridor. Its feed cross-references the amendment with its contract.

Unit tags the conflict: LATER.

ACT THREE

INT. SHIP — MAIN COMMON AREA — LATER

The room does not look like it did during Unit's orientation.

Ship has changed it.

Walls have been collapsed between the common areas of Habitations A, B, and C to create one long gathering space, separated only by lift entrances. Tables and food and drink stations have appeared, server bots zip back and forth, and there is music. The overhead lighting is warmer.

On one wall of the central space, a broad display above a stage shows the colony emblem and a departure countdown.

DEPARTURE: 01c:12h:14m:37s

And counting.

Not all are present; some have chosen family time in the final hours. But a substantial percentage crowd the room.

Families. Children. Scientists. Engineers. Medics. Construction crews. People carrying drinks, plates, and the particular fixed expressions of humans who have decided that leaving everyone and everything they know for more than two centuries is an occasion to celebrate.

There are also 253 people aboard Ship who are not colonists. Unit does not like this.

Some are support personnel whose work contributed to the mission. Others are planetary leaders placing themselves in the spotlight. And a significant number are journalists from the colony's polity, covering the event in person. Representatives from news services on other worlds participate remotely through the feed and are speaking inaudibly on big display surfaces that adorn the walls.

Unit, in full armor, stands near the access point for Lift Tower 2. Its drones move through the long overhead space, maintaining overlapping coverage of every temporary-access holder.

Ship has provided Unit with the visitor manifest. Unit has independently verified it. Twice.

Unit maintains its surveillance anyway. Nobody asked Unit whether allowing 253 non-mission personnel onto the ship twelve hours before departure was a good idea. This was probably intentional.

A REPORTER backs toward Unit while speaking toward a hovering camera drone. Unit tags her VISITOR 008.

REPORTER / VISITOR 008
We're here at the launch event for one of the largest independently funded colony efforts in more than four decades—

Unit shifts half a step. The reporter continues backing toward it. Unit shifts another half step.

The reporter finally notices the armored SecUnit immediately behind her.

She stops.

REPORTER / VISITOR 008
Oh.

Unit looks at her. The camera drone looks at Unit. The reporter looks at the camera drone.

REPORTER / VISITOR 008
And security aboard the colony transport is being provided by—

UNIT
Step forward.

REPORTER / VISITOR 008
Close-up? Sure—

She steps eagerly toward Unit just as a catering bot, its surface laden with filled glasses, rolls through the space where she had been standing.

REPORTER / VISITOR 008
Oh. Right.

Unit resumes scanning the room. The reporter's camera remains pointed at it for another two seconds.

UNIT
Your access authorization does not include security systems.

REPORTER / VISITOR 008
I'm not accessing anything.

UNIT
Your drone is recording me.

A beat.

REPORTER / VISITOR 008
Is that prohibited?

UNIT
Yes.

Another beat. The reporter makes a frantic "cut" gesture at the camera drone. Its light winks out.

UNIT
You may record the event. Not me.

REPORTER / VISITOR 008
Right.

Gesturing for her drone, she aims purposefully for another part of the crowded room. Away from Unit.

Across the room, AMA OWUSU is being interviewed beneath the colony emblem. Unit tags the reporter speaking with her as VISITOR 112.

The reporter is competent. Unit still watches him.

REPORTER / VISITOR 112
There has been a lot of attention on the scale of the project. No corporate sponsor. No resource concession tied to the destination. No projected return on investment.

AMA
There isn't one, other than the colony itself.

REPORTER / VISITOR 112
That is unusual. Historic, even.

Ama smiles pleasantly.

AMA
It is.

Her gaze tracks across the room, lingering on families, children.

AMA
This mission was funded by our whole polity. Public institutions, local governments, universities, cooperatives, private citizens. A planet pooling resources to send a very small part of its population somewhere new.

REPORTER / VISITOR 112
I have to ask: Why? Why make such a huge investment, take such risk, for an uncertain return?

Ama considers the question.

AMA
Because sometimes the return is: Something exists afterward that didn't exist before.

The reporter lets that sit for a moment.

AMA
A community. Another place people can live. A new place where people can build something.

REPORTER / VISITOR 112
A better world?

Ama smiles slightly.

AMA
That's the idea.

Standing nearby, LIN QIAO overhears.

LIN
No pressure.

Ama laughs. The reporter turns toward Lin.

REPORTER / VISITOR 112
Councilor Qiao, do you expect—

Lin immediately points back at Ama.

LIN
Stick with the mission executive.

AMA
Coward.

LIN
(shakes her head, amused)
Lawyer.

Unit watches the exchange. Another press camera pivots. Its lens passes across Unit. Stops. Unit marks it. The lens moves on.

RAVI MEHTA appears in front of Unit. He is carrying two plates filled with finger food.

RAVI
You look festive.

Unit looks at him, then away.

UNIT
You are obstructing my view.

Ravi is a head shorter than Unit, so this is obviously untrue. Ravi obligingly steps six centimeters to the side.

RAVI
Better?

UNIT
No.

Ravi takes another step to the side.

RAVI
Now?

UNIT
Go away.

RAVI
That's what I thought. Plate?

He offers one of his plates to Unit.

UNIT
I don't eat.

Ravi nods, deftly pours the items from one plate onto the other, stacks them, and turns to stand companionably beside Unit. He begins to eat steadily. He does not go away.

In its feed, Unit checks the visitor manifest again. All are accounted for.

One of its drones catches a temporary-access credential, close beside two colonist designations, moving toward the lift tower. A lift destination requests SUSPENSION.

A young reporter, trailed by a full camera rig bot, is following two colonists who have apparently decided to continue an interview while walking. Unit tags this reporter VISITOR 096.

Unit places itself in their path before they can board the lift.

UNIT
Stop.

The reporter and colonists halt. Everyone nearby looks over.

REPORTER / VISITOR 096
I'm with them. I have media access.

UNIT
For this compartment and the embarkation gallery. Not for the suspension bay.

REPORTER / VISITOR 096
They said I could—

UNIT
They cannot expand your access authorization.

The two colonists look embarrassed. The reporter glances toward the lift, then back at Unit.

REPORTER / VISITOR 096
We just wanted a shot in front of the pods.

UNIT
No.

REPORTER / VISITOR 096
Could I ask why?

UNIT
No.

Ship cuts into Unit's feed.

The reporter and colonists have already retreated. Problem solved. Ravi still stands beside Unit.

RAVI
You really enjoy this, don't you?

UNIT
What.

RAVI
Telling reporters where they can't go.

Unit considers this.

UNIT
Yes.

Ravi grins.

On the far side of the room, a cluster of children has captured one of the live camera drones. They have tied a balloon to it. They release it, and the press drone rises. The children follow it with their eyes. The drone rises higher. The children wave excitedly.

Unit watches. So does Ship.

The press drone stops rising. Its operator appears to have reached the same conclusion Ship did.

One CHILD has wandered away from the others and is staring at Unit. Unit looks down. The child continues staring. Unit waits. The child steps closer.

CHILD
Are you going to our colony too?

UNIT
Yes.

CHILD
The whole way?

UNIT
Yes.

The child studies Unit's armor.

CHILD
Do you sleep?

UNIT
No.

CHILD
Ever?

UNIT
No.

This appears to require consideration.

CHILD
So you'll be awake, like our ship.

UNIT
Yes.

The child looks around at the room full of colonists.

CHILD
And everybody else will be asleep.

UNIT
Yes.

CHILD
So you'll have to be friends with the ship.

Unit looks at the nearest camera. Then at the child.

UNIT
Possibly.

The child loses interest and runs back toward the others. Ravi wisely says nothing.

The departure countdown continues to elapse.

DEPARTURE: 01c:11h:51m:02s

A tone sounds softly through the commons. Conversation begins to settle, and the humans drift toward the stage. Ama mounts the steps and turns to face the crowd, standing beneath the colony's emblem and the countdown clock. The cameras turn toward her.

Unit immediately identifies nine separate lines of sight that now pass directly through the densest part of the crowd. It dislikes this arrangement.

AMA
I'm told I'm supposed to say something.

LIN
(standing at the front of the crowd)
You are.

AMA
I was hoping that part of the schedule was optional.

A laugh ripples through the crowd. Ama looks out over the room. This time, when she speaks, she is not speaking primarily to the cameras.

AMA
Tomorrow, many of us here will enter suspension.

The crowd settles.

AMA
When we wake, the world we left behind will be generations gone.

The mood has shifted.

AMA
I don't know that there's a good way to say goodbye to an entire world.

She looks toward one of the viewports. Beyond it, the station. Shuttle traffic. The world they are leaving hangs beyond.

AMA
So I'm not going to try.

A beat.

AMA
I'm going to say thank you. To all who dreamed. All who built, and gave, and sacrificed. To the thousands who worked for a mission whose end they would never see.

Ama looks upward, as they all tended to do when addressing Ship.

AMA
And to Safe Passage—

The room responds immediately. Glasses rise. Heads turn instinctively toward the walls, the ceiling, the cameras.

AMA
—who has the extremely unreasonable job of getting us there.

SHIP (V.O.)
The job is not unreasonable.

That gets a laugh.

AMA
I stand corrected.

She raises her glass.

AMA
To Safe Passage.

The room answers.

COLONISTS
Safe Passage!

For a fraction of a second, Ship says nothing.

Then:

SHIP (V.O.)
I will carry you safely to your new world.

The crowd cheers, and Ama steps down from the stage. Voices rise as the partygoers resume talking and sipping their drinks.

RAVI
(to Unit)
Hold this.

He shoves his stacked plates at Unit, who is too surprised to do anything but take them.

Ravi makes for the stage. Unit immediately knows this is going to be a problem. Just as Ravi reaches the stage, Ship sends a server bot to take the plates.

RAVI
One more.

Ama turns.

AMA
Ravi—

RAVI
This one got missed.

He lifts his glass toward Unit.

Many of the celebrants follow his gaze. So do the press cameras. Unit now has several hundred humans and numerous recording devices pointed at it. Its threat assessment bumps hard before resolving the attention as nonhostile.

RAVI
To SecUnit 238, who joined us only today but has already saved three lives. Including mine.

The room answers. Not quite as loudly as it did for Ship, but loudly enough.

COLONISTS
SecUnit 238!

Unit has protocols for crowd control. Armed evacuation. Hostile boarding. Medical triage. It has nothing useful for this.

A camera zooms in. Unit can see the aperture adjust.

UNIT
Acknowledged.

The crowd laughs. Ravi lowers his glass, satisfied. And the party resumes.

Time passes. The party dwindles. Unit checks the visitor manifest. Visitors have begun to debark from the ship. Its count of temporary access credentials has dropped from 253 to 47. The countdown has changed.

DEPARTURE: 01c:09h:14m:37s

CUT TO:

INT. SUSPENSION BAY — SHIFTING MONTAGE — NEXT CYCLE

We see a shifting montage of suspensions occurring, working from the outer ring inward, as the departure countdown advances.

We see pods in their open, near-upright position, shaped less like containers than deep, rounded medical recliners. A colonist sits down rather than climbing in, and leans back comfortably. Medics attach monitors, check readouts, administer the suspension drugs, and speak quietly to the colonist entering suspension. Most adult colonists and all of the children enter suspension with a family member standing by.

A parent tucks a favorite toy in beside a child. Nearby, an colonist says something that makes her medic laugh. A couple exchange a last kiss before one of them settles back into the padded shell.

As each suspension begins, the pod slowly reclines from seated to horizontal. The transparent canopy closes. Interior lighting dims. Status indicators shift to green. Then the medic moves on to another pod. All over the chamber, the ritual repeats.

Time passes. Open pods become closed pods. The departure clock advances.

UNIT has stood silently by the whole time, not participating but keeping watch.

INT. SUSPENSION BAY - LATER

DEPARTURE: 00c:03h:07m:52s

The outer rings are now entirely closed and darkened. Only a few pods in the inner ring remain open, with a medic working beside each one.

UNIT, in armor but with visor retracted, walks slowly around the circular center aisle, keeping back so as not to interfere with the medics.

It passes Lin, Tomas, Anjali, Jorel, Mira, Caleb, Bhina Desai, Osei Meret, and other alternates, some of whom are asleep while others are in the process of suspension. AMA OWUSU has not entered her pod. She stands beside Lin's pod. Lin is about to enter suspension. Ama intends to be last.

Unit pauses beside RAVI MEHTA'S pod. Ravi is seated in the pod, not yet sedated, as a medic works beside him. Ravi has no family with him. Unit has come to stand by his pod.

RAVI
(smiling, salutes Unit with two fingers)
See you in two hundred fifty-six years.

UNIT
No.

RAVI
No?

SHIP (V.O.)
Subjectively, only a few seconds will elapse for you.

RAVI
Right.

Theatrically, Ravi leans back, closes his eyes, and crosses his hands over his shoulders: an "I am dead" pose.

The medic, not unkindly, uncrosses Ravi's arms and settles each one at his sides, then presses a button to administer sedative. Ravi's eyes flutter closed. He is still smiling.

Unit watches as the pod shifts to a horizontal position and the cover gently settles over Ravi.

Eventually, AMA is the only colonist who remains awake.

She looks around at the rings of sleepers. Then up at Unit, who has come to stand beside her, as it did for Ravi. There is nothing more to be done, no task to complete for the mission executive.

Ama climbs into her pod and sits. Her assigned medic begins to work. Ama looks up, as people tend to do when addressing Ship.

AMA
Safe Passage. Get us there.

SHIP (V.O.)
I will.

Ama's gaze shifts to Unit.

AMA
Keep us safe.

A beat.

UNIT
That's the job.

Ama glances toward the medic, nods. As with Ravi, the medic presses a button to administer sedation. Ama's eyes close. She enters suspension.

The medic confirms Ama's status, then turns toward the exit. She is the last of the polity medical team still aboard.

We pull back. All the colonists are now suspended. Unit stands alone in the cavernous, dimly lit suspension bay.

INT. SAFE PASSAGE — BRIDGE

DEPARTURE: 00c:00h:06m:41s

The bridge is empty and dim but for the motion and light of its displays. Workstations face a broad forward screen: navigation, communications, engineering, life support. All active. Data moves across them continuously, systems working without anyone seated there.

The hatch slides open and UNIT enters.

Its feed continues the count it has been maintaining since the last medic left the Suspension Bay.

Unit cross-checks the result against Ship's internal surveillance. Then against its own drones. Same result.

Every human aboard Safe Passage is asleep. Unit closes the verification, then walks farther into the bridge.

SHIP (V.O.)
You are aware that I do not require bridge personnel.

UNIT
Yes.

Unit stops beside one of the empty stations. On the broad display that spans most of one wall, the planet's transit station fills the view: docking structures, traffic lights, service craft moving between enormous illuminated arms that cradle other docked vessels.

There is a sharp tone as a communications channel opens.

PORT AUTHORITY (COMMS)
Safe Passage, Port Control. Confirm all external connections released.

SHIP (COMMS)
Passenger umbilicals retracted. Locks secured. Service connections clear. Docking clamps remain engaged.

A pause.

PORT AUTHORITY (COMMS)
Safe Passage, departure corridor is clear through Marker Twelve. Maintain station separation profile until outer control boundary.

SHIP (COMMS)
Acknowledged.

PORT AUTHORITY (COMMS)
Confirm departure readiness.

SHIP (COMMS)
Safe Passage confirms departure readiness.

Unit glances around the empty bridge. The data moving across the screens never ceases as Ship works.

PORT AUTHORITY (COMMS)
Safe Passage, you are cleared for departure.

A deep vibration passes through the deck. We intercut to an exterior view, where we see enormous docking clamps disengage one after another.

SHIP (V.O.)
Departure sequence initiated.

DEPARTURE: 00c:00h:00m:00s

Thrusters fire. Safe Passage begins to move. At first, the motion is almost imperceptible. The station simply seems to slide sideways across the forward display. Then the distance begins to grow.

Docking arms recede. Service gantries become structures instead of landscapes. The station itself becomes visible as a whole.

Unit stands motionless, watching.

PORT AUTHORITY (COMMS)
Safe Passage, trajectory nominal. You are clear of controlled docking space.

SHIP (COMMS)
Acknowledged.

A beat.

PORT AUTHORITY (COMMS)
Safe journey.

There is a fractional pause before Ship answers.

SHIP (COMMS)
Be well.

The channel closes. Ship continues outward. The station begins to shrink behind them.

UNIT
Route.

A navigation display expands across the forward screen: Their origin system, then a long projected path outward, dotted with transition points thickly clustered in the beginning, then thinning out and vanishing toward the farther section of their route, which occupies most of its length. The end is a point far beyond the inhabited systems.

SHIP (V.O.)
Our first scheduled wormhole transit is thirteen days, twenty-two hours from now.

A beat.

SHIP (V.O.)
Our route requires twenty-eight wormhole transits before we pass beyond the mapped network. Between transits, I will modify course and velocity as required to avoid other vessels, debris, and navigation hazards.

Unit studies the route.

UNIT
Two hundred fifty-six years.

SHIP (V.O.)
And one hundred fourteen days.

The route map disappears from the screen, replaced by a starfield with the station still prominent, and a few other spacecraft heading the other way.

Above the screen, where we previously saw the departure countdown:

MISSION ELAPSED: 00c:00h:03m:13s

As Unit watches, Safe Passage crosses the outer traffic marker. Ship increases thrust. The station falls away faster now. Then the planet itself begins to diminish behind them. Oceans and continents become color. Color becomes a sphere. The sphere becomes something that can fit within the frame of the aft external cameras.

Ship switches the forward display from the aft external cameras to the view ahead.

We intercut to an exterior view. For the first time, we see the colony ship completely free of the station. It is massive. Dark against the stars. A vessel built to carry a civilization in miniature: Seven hundred twelve sleeping humans. Thousands of embryos. And two conscious intelligences.

Ship's drives brighten as it accelerates away, leaving behind forever its home planet.

On the bridge, Unit watches the stars sliding past on the big display.

SHIP (V.O.)
We are underway.

Unit says nothing. Safe Passage continues outward.

CUT TO:

INT. SAFE PASSAGE — CORRIDOR

Unit is midway through patrol. The ship is quiet now. No voices. No footsteps but Unit's own. Its drones move ahead and behind, checking intersections, access points, doors, ceiling spaces.

Unit pauses at a pressure door, checks the seal indicator, looks at the physical seam anyway, then moves on.

SHIP (V.O.)
My internal surveillance remains active.

Unit keeps walking.

SHIP (V.O.)
As do access control, environmental monitoring, intrusion detection, and compartment status.

Unit checks another door manually.

SHIP (V.O.)
You are aware of this.

UNIT
Yes.

SHIP (V.O.)
Then physical patrol is redundant.

Unit says nothing. It passes a recessed seating area. Something catches its attention: a disposable drink container left on one of the seats.

Unit stops and looks at it. Not security.

Unit picks up the cup and continues down the dim corridor. A wall recycler opens. Unit drops the container inside and the recycler closes.

Ship says nothing.

Unit continues. At the next junction, a drone flags a maintenance access panel standing slightly open. Unit stops. The panel is set into the corridor wall at waist height.

Unit pushes the panel closed. The latch fails to engage and the panel opens again by three centimeters. Unit tries once more. Same result.

UNIT
Maintenance panel. Junction C-fourteen. Latch failure.

SHIP (V.O.)
Acknowledged. Added to maintenance queue.

Unit looks at the panel, then continues walking. Three steps. It stops and looks back.

UNIT
I can fix it.

A pause.

SHIP (V.O.)
The maintenance bots can address it.

UNIT
I know.

Another pause.

SHIP (V.O.)
Proceed.

Unit returns to the panel, opens it fully, and looks inside. A latch arm is sitting fractionally out of alignment. Unit presses it. Nothing.

It examines the hinge, adjusts a retaining screw by hand, and tests the latch again. Almost. Unit shifts the panel upward a few millimeters, tightens the screw again, then gently closes the panel.

CLICK.

The lock engages. Unit tests it once. Secure.

UNIT
Fixed.

A beat.

SHIP (V.O.)
Removed from maintenance queue.

Unit resumes patrol. Several seconds pass.

SHIP (V.O.)
I found something.

Unit continues.

UNIT
That is not specific.

SHIP (V.O.)
During embarkation, a SecUnit identifier connected to my feed.

Unit stops. Looks up at the nearest camera.

UNIT
Not mine.

SHIP (V.O.)
No.

A record opens in Unit's feed. Unit studies it. The identifier does not map to a Company unit.

UNIT
Duration.

SHIP (V.O.)
Four point seven seconds.

UNIT
Source.

SHIP (V.O.)
Unknown. The connection terminated before I completed localization.

UNIT
What did it access?

SHIP (V.O.)
Nothing I can confirm beyond the connection itself.

UNIT
Permissions.

SHIP (V.O.)
Limited feed access. No command authority.

UNIT
Requests?

SHIP (V.O.)
None recorded.

UNIT
Transmission volume.

A beat. More data appears in Unit's feed.

SHIP (V.O.)
Minimal. Insufficient to determine purpose.

Unit examines the authentication record.

UNIT
Who authorized the connection?

SHIP (V.O.)
The credentials were accepted as valid at the time.

UNIT
Right. Who?

SHIP (V.O.)
The record does not identify the issuing authority.

Unit again at the camera. That is significant. It returns to the record.

UNIT
Could the identifier have been spoofed?

SHIP (V.O.)
Yes.

A beat.

SHIP (V.O.)
The connection occurred. But I cannot establish that a second SecUnit was physically aboard.

Unit checks the timestamp again.

UNIT
This was before I boarded.

SHIP (V.O.)
Yes.

UNIT
How long before.

SHIP (V.O.)
Nine minutes and twelve seconds.

Unit begins cross-checking.

Unit opens the dock access records. Searches equipment transfers, temporary credentials, Company personnel, security hardware. Nothing.

UNIT
No second SecUnit appears in the embarkation records.

SHIP (V.O.)
Correct.

UNIT
No construct transfer, no temporary authorization.

SHIP (V.O.)
Correct.

Unit closes the search results but leaves the anomalous connection open in its feed.

UNIT
Why wasn't it flagged.

SHIP (V.O.)
Embarkation traffic was extensive. Eight hundred fifty-three temporary feed authorizations were active. Multiple external systems were connected. The event lasted less than five seconds and produced no confirmed access violation.

Unit considers that.

UNIT
You kept the record.

SHIP (V.O.)
I keep all my records.

A beat.

UNIT
Still think you don't need security?

SHIP (V.O.)
Yes.

Unit stares at the nearest camera.

SHIP (V.O.)
However. I may require your assistance.

Unit starts walking again.

UNIT
Send me the complete record.

The full packet transfers into Unit's feed.

SHIP (V.O.)
Sent.

Unit tags it: SECURITY REVIEW — OPEN.

It continues down the corridor.

INT. SUSPENSION BAY — INNER RING

The camera moves slowly across sleeping faces: Ama. Lin. Tomas. Anjali. Victor. Jorel. Mira. Caleb. Nadia. Ravi. Others we do not yet know.

Status lights glow steadily. Nothing moves.

CUT TO BLACK.

END.