“I think that’ll mellow a bit now that they’re out, Ivan. You might even get some awkward apology calls.”

Ivan snorted. “I’d be okay with that.”

Kemp found himself momentarily distracted by the snort. The sound required lungs. And breath. And, for that matter, nasal passages. Kemp wondered again how much of the human Ivan was still being preserved. Did he still breathe? Did he still need to?

“Ivan, I’ve not been part of the investigation since we arrived. I have to ask—do you know where you get your energy from? I know you aren’t eating anymore.”

“Uh, yeah, no, not eating anymore. Or breathing, except when I need to speak. My nanites are powered by something—understand, I’m not getting complete explanations from the computer, just individual words and images, and even those are fuzzy. But it looks like some kind of piggy-backing off of virtual particles. Not the Casimir Effect, but something that ends up doing the same thing. That’s what the president was talking about, although I think they’ll find it a little more difficult to reverse-engineer than they’re expecting.”

“So, infinite, inexhaustible energy? Maybe you should worry about the military.”

“Naw. I can spare a few nanites.”

Kemp could tell that Ivan had something else on his mind. He waited, silently inviting Ivan to continue.

“The thing is, Doc, I’m getting other things. There are Makers out there. The beings who created me, at least this version of me. The computer thinks they’re still out there. And…”

“And?”

“And something else is out there as well. Something bad.”

52.Release

52.Release

Seth sat in the first row of the military ferry, along with Aspasia. He would have the window seat, if there were windows. An odor of sweat and old socks mixed with some kind of machine smell pervaded the cabin, testament to the legions of Navy crew who had sat here before him. As it was, he could just make out several generations of graffiti scratched onto the bulkhead, dutifully painted over in military puke color. The paint didn’t quite fill in the scratches, though. He entertained himself trying to make out the no-doubt scurrilous messages, until a sharp punch on his shoulder make him jerk around.

Aspasia glared at him. “What, I have bad breath? A bulkhead is more interesting?”

Seth opened his mouth to try to explain, then just laughed. There was no version that wouldn’t make things worse.

“Sorry, Spazzie. I’m happy to be going home—mostly. Just not sure how I feel about leaving Ivan behind.”

“Yeah, I’ll go one better. I know how I feel about leaving him behind. But we’re not doing him any good back there. Especially when we’re all in one section and he’s by himself in another. That couldn’t have felt good, either.”