I believe this course of action to be highly—

“Shut up.”

With our mission complete, the data squirted to SolWatch, we should count ourselves lucky and follow our carefully made plans—

“Stuff it.”

Have you ever considered the elaborate mental architecture necessary to an advanced personality simulation like myself? We, too, experience humanlike motivations, responses—and fears.

“You simulate them.”

How can one tell the difference? A good simulation is as exact, as powerful as—

“I don’t have time for a goddamn debate.”

Plainly Claire felt uncomfortable with the whole subject. Rachel saw that she was damned if she would spend what might be her last hour feeling guilty. Or having second thoughts.

Claire was committed. And so were Rachel and Fraq.

4.

You have no plan.

Erma’s tinkling voice definitely had an accusing edge. Rachel nearly chuckled, though this was vital business. A good sim, she was, with a feminine archness. Still…

Don’t argue with algorithms.

Claire ignored Erma and stripped away the last of her clothes. “It’s damn hot.”

Of course. I calculated the rise early in our orbit. It fits the Stefan-Boltzmann law perfectly.

“Bravo.” Rachel shook sweat from her hair. “Stefan-Boltzmann, do yo’ stuff.”

We are decelerating in sequence. Arrival time: 7.87 minutes. Antimatter reserves holding. There could be difficulty with the magnetic bottles. Their confinement is—

“Enough!” Claire called.

Pilots didn’t like bad news, or details, Rachel gathered. They just flew through problems.

She watched as the ship slid in through magnetic threads. Seconds crawled by. On the screens, titanic blazes steepled up from incandescent plains. Flames, licking up at her.

She felt thick, logy. Her hair was musky-warm, heart thudding faster, working. She roused herself, spat back, “And we do have a plan, Erma—right, Claire?” Pure bravado, of course.

“Sure.”

You have not seen fit to confide in me?

Rachel rolled her eyes. An Artilect personality sim in a snit—just what they needed.

Claire shot back, “I was afraid you’d laugh.”

I have never laughed.

“That’s my point.”

Rachel laughed. Claire nodded, and ignored multiple red warnings winking at her. Systems were okay, though stressed by the heat, Rachel saw. So why did she feel so slow? You’re not up for this game, girl.

Fraq stirred, nudged her. “I never saw such as this.” Rachel just nodded. Nor had she. But Fraq’s body language told her he was edgy, maybe afraid. Sensible, considering…

She felt sluggish and restless both, so got up to stretch—and fell to the floor. She banged her knee. “Uh! Damn.”

It was labor getting on hands and knees. She weighed a ton—and then she understood. “We’re decelerating—so I’m feeling more of local gravity.”

A crude manner of speaking, but yes. I am bringing us, as directed, into a sloping orbital change, which shall end with a slip-by hovering position above the coronal arch. As Pilot ordered.

Was that malicious glee in Erma’s voice? Did personality sims feel that? “What’s local gravity now?”