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“Could I have a word?” the Doctor asked.
My performance reliability dropped to 86%.
You should speak to them, ART said unexpectedly.
“Fine."
I followed the Doctor over to a corner of the room, away from the blue rectangular abomination that they called their transport. (Honestly. It was a crime against the laws of physics.) Ruby was chatting with Seth while Matteo, Iris, and Martyn talked to the survivors. Some of them would take their chances going back to the CR, but the rest were either seeking refugee status or employment on Mihira and New Tideland.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” the Doctor said. They were trying to look me in the eye, so I brought a drone down to hover in their face. They blinked, but obligingly focused on it instead. “I tend to stay away from this era of the Corporation Rim, so I didn’t know how constructs are treated.”
That was an understatement. Half of the problems we’d encountered in rescuing the stranded labourers were due to the Doctor’s ill-timed mention that I was a construct. Not only did the humans react poorly, but their employer had decided that it couldn’t risk the humans being rescued — it was cheap to let them die, but expensive if they survived and sued — and had responded with predictable violence.
“If you hadn’t interfered, I could’ve stopped the AgBots before they killed anyone,” I said.
The Doctor made a face. “I know. I’m sorry. I just — I don’t like guns.”
My energy weapons were not guns, thank you, and they were also part of me, but with immense effort I refrained from pointing that out. “Security is what I do,” I said instead. “If we meet again, let me do my job.”
“I’ll try,” the Doctor promised.
They reached up and I retreated three metres. They stood there for a moment, then dropped their hand, nodded, and went back over to Ruby. I realised belatedly that they were probably just going to pat me on the shoulder, rather than trying to attack me, but that was almost worse.
You know, the two of you are quite similar, ART mused. Always trying to save everyone, happy to sacrifice yourself for others, used to being the most competent person in the room…
Shut the fuck up, I said, aghast. I couldn’t find the right words to describe how slanderous that felt. As if that doesn’t describe you too, anyway.
True, when I’m around you’re not the most competent person in the room anymore, ART said smugly.
Asshole.
We watched as the Doctor and Ruby said their goodbyes, got into their weird tiny transport, and vanished.
I have some ideas on how to build one of those, ART said.
Of course you do. Not too proud to take inspiration from a human?
Oh, the Doctor’s not human, ART said, with a tone that indicated it had been waiting for the right moment to reveal this. They’re an alien.
“They’re what?”