“They don’t like to be disturbed,” Ashok said. “Maybe they don’t want their weakness to be discovered. If the rebels threatened them when they were awake, how much more vulnerable are they now that they’re asleep – or whatever? Relying on automated security systems?”

Lantern said, “If they are trying to protect some secret, it could be the servers where their simulated reality resides. Or the dreaming machine that spawned their new universe. Or the life support system for their stasis while some other machines prepare this universe for their return. It would be something essential to their existence.”

“They spent a long time crafting a reputation as ferocious unstoppable gods who punish the slightest transgression with armageddon,” Callie said. “Why would they do that? In my experience people who bluster that hard, and who favor wildly disproportionate responses, are a lot more insecure than they let on.”

“This is an interesting line of speculation,” Lantern said. “I would like to present it to my elders and solicit their thoughts.”

“You can’t cower forever,” Ashok said. “Isn’t ten thousand years of subjugation long enough?”

“Even if you are right, I am not sure what we can do about it,” Lantern said. “If there is a secret weakness, I cannot imagine how we would ever discover it.”

“Of course you can’t,” Callie said. “You’re not a trained investigator.”

Chapter Eighteen

Elena knew she should be sleeping, and she dozed fitfully, but she never sank very deep. Her mind kept returning to the Axiom station, made even more sinister in the context of Lantern’s revelations, and every time she closed her eyes she saw horrors witnessed and imagined. She stared at the darkness over her bunk for a long time and finally said, “Shall?”

“Yes, Elena?”

“Did I hear you say you loved Captain Machedo, when we all thought we were going to die?”

“I don’t know what you might have heard.”

“Ha. Let me rephrase that. Why did you say you loved her? And why did she call you– what was it, Michael?”

“That’s not a question I can answer. I’ve been asked not to discuss the subject. Callie has promised to sell me to a discount liquor store as an inventory management system if I divulge any details.”

“Can I speculate wildly, based on my keen observations? And if I speculate accurately, will you let me know?”

“I can grunt meaningfully, I suppose.”

Elena smiled. “Fair enough. Your name is actually Michael?”

“I’m just a ship’s computer. What need have I for any foolish human name?”

“The crew calls you ‘Shall.’ Callie doesn’t call you anything at all. There’s that old phrase, isn’t there, about a villain so terrible his name could never be spoken aloud? ‘He Who Shall Not Be Named’?”