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Data Ghost, by Martha Wells

When the station stats popped up on the screen, the Interface said, Anomalous. Deni batted at their ear and muttered, "No, no, quit it."

In the second cockpit seat, Winnie threw them a look. "What?" At Deni's shrug, her brows stayed up, skeptical. "Use your words, Tulip."

"It's the Interface." Deni thumped their head against the seat back, thinking about the urge to dig the thing out of their brain with a spoon. Sometimes that shut it up. They waved a hand at their head and made their voice low and deep and ominous. "Anomalous.' It's still mad because we filled out that intake form wrong at Ring Transit."

The Interface hissed quietly, Anomalous.

"Uh, folks," Nehian said, his voice crackling over the comm from tertiary control. "It's not mad about the form. Look at the station."

Flicking through the incoming scans with a frown, Winnie said, "This is weird. Where is everybody?"

Deni looked. Okay, that was...not right. Though they refused to say it was anomalous. The station was silent: no outgoing signals detected, no beacons, no transmissions. "It's offline completely?" they asked. There were a lot of things that could do that, and none were good. Like a disease outbreak, or a massive malfunction, or an attack that had taken down the life support systems.

"That's what it looks like." Winnie pulled out a visual to hang next to the scan schematic. "If it's out of service it would have been nice to have some warning."

Deni thought the visual made it even weirder. The scans indicated a large station, but it was also a fancy one. Built out of a chunk of asteroid, most of the structure was hidden away in the folds of stone, except for the crystalline glitter on a pyramidal structure — no, two pyramidal structures, one inverted under the other, tucked against a rocky projection. "It's old. Second-wave, maybe third?"

Historical referents, Deni's interface said. I know how to look things up, they told it. Arguing with it made it worse; the more you interacted with it, the more it learned. But sometimes Deni couldn't help it.

"Found a beacon,” Nehian's comm reported. “It's a first- wave transmission band. Hold on, it's translating."

They waited. Winnie said, “Ne', Tulip, what is it saying?"

"Um, it's like a historical marker,” Nehian said, preoccupied. Deni's interface picked up echoes as he used the onboard archive to search for more information. "Uh, here."

The beacon's synthetic voice sounded over the comm: “...designated ghost station. Interdicted, approach at own risk, no local responders..."

Deni found themself sharing a look with Winnie, who mouthed, "Ghost station?"

"Approach at own risk?" Deni mouthed back. They had never heard of anything like that.

"Oh, you have to be kidding me," Winnie muttered.

Even with an interdicted station, Ship still had to take a break to let the engines cycle. It was just disappointing that there would be no chance to disembark at a new place, no chance to pick up any extra cargo for cash, no new entertainment or games to bargain for, no time out for a meal they didn't cook themselves. No responders in case anything came at them out of the dark. No, it was more than disappointing, Deni admitted to themself. It was creepy.

At the table in the little galley, they all ate beet noodles and soybean gravy, while Nehian searched for local traffic with half a headset jammed into his ear. This was Ship's first time on this route, and updated info was important, as it might contain recent news like this waystation is no longer designated safe do not approach or you can find a local route wayfarer ship at this location for a protected cycle dock. Deni asked, "So did the last archive download say anything about this station? I think I would have remembered if it said we were going to a historical disaster site."

"Definitely not. Picking up any comm traffic?" Winnie asked Nehian, cutting up his noodles with the curve of her own spork.

Nehian made a complicated grimace that meant he was working on it and not happy with his results so far. He was the sweetest person Deni had ever met, and he had round cheeks and thick eyebrows that right now made him look like a pensive little toy bear. He said, “Nothing from the station. I'm getting some derelict beacons."

Winnie frowned, pushing Nehian's bowl closer to remind him to eat. She and Nehian were genetically related, though you would never know it to look at them. She was taller, thinner, and sharper. "Derelict ships? Or illegal salvagers masquerading as derelicts?"

"No way to tell." Nehian fumbled for his utensil. "So everyone is as creeped out as I am?"

Deni was reassured they weren't the only one picking up on the vibe. "At least, possibly more."

The Interface whispered, Anomalies represent inherent hazards.

No shit, Deni told it.

When Deni had first signed on as permanent crew, they had told the others about the Interface. Implanted interfaces were pretty common, for anybody who had to work with bots and other feed-related transport systems; what wasn't common was to have one forcibly implanted because your family wanted you to be a walking repository for their company data. Deni had walked all right, walked away at the first opportunity, right onto an outward-bound ship.

After checking the Interface with the medical scan, Winnie had sat Deni down in the medical bay's little private recovery area and said, "When you first told me about this, I'll admit I was afraid of what I might find. Having it implanted against your will let's say I was expecting the worst. But this is a high-grade unit, and it's been installed properly."

Deni had rubbed the scar under their hair. Their brother had told them it was a hack job that would scramble their brain in days. But their brother had lied a lot. "Okay. That's ... good to know."

"And if you want to actually use it, there shouldn't be any problem. You just need to initialize it."

Initialization was exactly what Deni didn't want to do. It would give the thing more independence to access and control its data storage. More power over its own functions, which meant more power over Deni's brain. And Deni liked their brain the way it was, not that anybody in their family had agreed.

Deni's expression must have been eloquent, because Winnie held up her hands in surrender. "I'm not saying you shouldn't be angry that this was done to you. And if you really want it gone, there is software to uninstall these things. We can look into that the next time we get to a big central port, where we can get quality software. The physical unit will still be there, but it'll be inert."

Inert, the Interface said. Data null.

Deni grimaced. Having an entity, even a non-organic one, in your head talking to you as you were contemplating basically killing it was not great either. Almost as bad as having it stuck in there in the first place. "I'll have to think about it. I just ... it keeps arguing with me."

"Are you arguing with it? Because that's like arguing with your spleen. It's on your side, nobody else's." Winnie sighed. "I wish Ne' and I'd been able to get interfaces this advanced instead of base models." She took in their expression again and waved her hands. "But don't listen to me, it's completely up to you."

Deni thought it was nice to have something completely up to them. It was why they were here on Ship.

While Ship cycled its power systems, Deni took their turn at watch while Winnie took a sleep break. Nehian was supposed to take a sleep break too, but sometimes he was too anxious and his medical implant didn't help enough. He and Deni ended up in the comfortably shabby lounge, playing Floating Islands.

Nehian had just laughed at one of Deni's particularly bad game choices, then Deni was blinking up at the cabin ceiling.

Their head had fallen back on the couch, and the position was awkward. The game's bright landscape drifted in the air, their avatars held in standby. I fell asleep, Deni thought.

The Interface said, Emergency, and Deni realized it wasn't the first time. It had been repeating that for... fuck, they didn't know how long. They sat up and blurted, "Something's wrong."

Nehian slid sideways and half-fell into their lap, then struggled upright. "What?" The word came out on a yawn, then Nehian looked at the time on the game. He gasped, appalled. "Oh, we fell asleep!"

"No. Yes. Uh, I guess." A warning echoed through Deni's head, like the fading ring of a hull-breach alarm. The Interface was doing the thing where it felt like someone talking on the other side of a door, mumbled words Deni couldn't quite hear. It felt like it had been happening for a long time. Their body felt sluggish, their brain like stale porridge, moving slowly.

Nehian hit the comm and said, "Winnie? I'm really sorry, we fell asleep and missed end of watch."

The Interface whispered, No answer.

Shut up, Deni told it, rattled, then felt bad for snapping. We're awake now; it's fine.

Nehian switched to the all ship comm. "Winnie, answer please."

Cold sunk down into Deni's spine. The Interface had said, no answer. It was weirdly attuned to Ship, even without initialization. "Something's wrong." They struggled out of the couch and started for the berths, Nehian jumping up to follow.

Deni dropped down through the connecting passage. Winnie's cabin door was open. She wasn't inside, but her puffy quilt lay half on the bunk. Heart pounding, Deni turned to Nehian. "We need to search."

Nehian's face was drawn in dismay and confusion. "What, no, she's just in another cabin doing something private. We're still sealed up. If there are salvagers here, they couldn't get on board and just—" He stopped, like he didn't want to say “steal someone" any more than Deni wanted to hear it. He finished, "If they did, why wouldn't they take us too, and everything else?" He made a gesture, meaning the supplies, cargo. “Or just take Ship?"

"I don't know." Deni's throat was dry. Ghost station, they thought. What did that even mean. "Just―let's search Ship. I'll check the cockpit.”

Nehian bit his lip, obviously trying to quell his own fear. He squeezed Deni's arm. “Right, stay on the comm, okay?”

"Yeah," Deni agreed, already turning to take the passage up to the main deck.

Along the way, Deni checked the extra cabin and the auxiliary cargo, though some sense they didn't want to examine closely told them there would be nothing to see. They reached the cockpit and dropped into a chair, waking the boards and calling up screens. “Ne', you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm checking engineering.” His voice on the comm sounded out of breath and distracted.

Anomalous, the Interface muttered unhelpfully.

Shut up, Deni told it. Worried about Nehian, Deni said, "Just take it slow; we'll find her." They had to find her.

Screens expanded and loaded the data: the sensor view of the station, the proximity scan, and the access log for the mini-landers. Ship shifted the hull proximity scan to priority. Deni knew it was just the assistance function, picking up on movements and words and trying to help make the process faster. But now it made ice prickles skip across Deni's skin, as if Ship itself was suggesting that Winnie might have gone out the airlock. The Interface whispered, Probability low.

Deni was so grateful they didn't tell it to shut up. They pushed the proximity scan aside and pulled up the access log for Ship's shuttle dock and locks.

The log showed no one had tried to dock, the hard seal was still active, which was a relief. The vision of a ship with some kind of concealing proximity filters sliding up nearby, shapes in transfer suits floating towards the lock... Deni shook it off and checked the shuttle and the mini-landers, just to confirm Winnie was still aboard.

The shuttle sat in its dock, seals active. The mini-landers... Deni hissed under their breath, disbelief and dismay. One slot was empty.

"Why? Why, why..." Deni whispered. They fumbled for the comm. "Ne', a mini-lander's gone. Where do you think she went?" That was an incredibly stupid question. "It has to be the station. Why would she... Ne'? Are you there?"

Ship switched a screen to the interior mini-lander access. Nehian was climbing into one, its course set for the station.

Deni didn't make it down there in time to do anything but stare hopelessly out of the hatch port as the mini-lander vanished into the dark.

Anomalous, the Interface said.

Deni bent over, clawed at their head with their hands, pulling their hair. Shut up! I don't know what's doing this, and you're not helping! Deni fought the wave of panic, but what if they were next? Would they even know? What if they thought they were standing here but were already walking toward the last mini-lander—

Log, the Interface said. Check the log.

Deni sobbed a bitter laugh. That was how you knew it was really bad, that the Interface was trying to be helpful. I checked Ship's logs. You should know, you were there.

Our log, the Interface said.

"Huh?" Deni said aloud, then realized what it meant. That was the only voluntary interaction they did with the stupid thing, dumping the logs every month. "What did you log?"

Check the log, the Interface repeated.

It had never done this before, never told Deni to do anything. Maybe all that "anomalous" bit hadn't been the usual bid for attention, the Interface's outward expression of Deni's brain chewing itself up. Maybe the thing had been trying to warn them. “Fine, alright, fine."

Deni went to the nearest board and downloaded the log into the reader. As the screen popped up, they froze. It was all contact requested and contact blocked notices.

They stared, trying to make this into something else, something not this freaky and terrifying. But it made too much terrible sense. Winnie and Nehian both had standard interfaces; if they had received these contacts too... "Something was sending a message, not to the comm but to our implants, but you blocked it to mine." Deni scrolled down. There was a whole section of adjacent contact-blocked with matching timestamps for the last few hours, when Deni and Nehian had been together gaming. “You blocked it for Ne', too," Deni said slowly. "Because we were sitting together, and he was in your range. Then when we separated, it... got him?"

The Interface didn't respond. Maybe it was mad. Or maybe it was busy. Deni's stomach dipped. "You're still blocking it."

Yes, the Interface said.

"Do you know what it is?"

Signal unknown. No prior contact, the Interface said. Nonstandard, unidentifiable, detrimental effects.

Mind-controlling effects. Something worming into your interface to make you leave Ship, go to the station... for what?

Maybe it didn't matter for what. It wasn't like it was going to be something good for Winnie and Nehian.

Deni wanted to be mad, wanted to say, "Why didn't you say something," but that sounded too much like their brother, and they had more self-control than to do what was basically victim blaming. The Interface could barely communicate because Deni wanted it that way, and it had been trying to tell them something was wrong the whole time.

“Okay." Deni took a deep breath, pressing their hands together to stop trembling. This was still a horrible thing, but it wasn't a ghost, and it wasn't their friends having a psychotic break or a monster—well, it still might be a monster. But here, in the floating blue letters of the Interface's log, was evidence that this had been deliberately caused by something on the station. "Can you keep blocking it? Like, at closer range?"

Seconds crawled by. The Interface said, Probability high.

"Okay, then," Deni said, and steeled themself. "This is a tech problem."

Deni took the shuttle, because they would need it to bring back Winnie and Nehian, and there was no point considering any other possibility.

As the station loomed closer, all the comm bands were still silent except for the interdict warning. The fact that this close Deni could see interior lights, shining brightly from ports and glowing from the translucent pyramids, just made it worse somehow. Lights in the dark were supposed to be reassuring. Not a warning, like bright colors on venomous fauna. Then the shuttle's scan found an automated beacon for a dock designated for small to mid-sized tenders.

The docking procedure was weirdly normal, the shuttle settling onto a pad as the station's gravity took hold. The outer doors sealed, and the hatch sensor recorded an acceptable atmosphere level. But it was all done in automated silence, with no confirmation or chatter from a controller, human or otherwise. Even the Interface had stopped saying anomalous. Deni wished it would talk again because silence right now was terrifying, but they felt too guilty to ask.

Deni set the shuttle to seal out anyone without a crew signature, because coming back to find it gone was one of the many nightmare scenarios battering their composure right now. Then they checked their equipment, conquered a small paralyzing surge of terror, and opened the lock to dry recycled air. The bay's inner doors had already cycled open to the bright lights of a port. They waited for the shuttle's hatch to close, then walked forward into the station.

Past the bay doors was a big oval space. The floor was made to look like polished silver-gray stone tile and the high arched ceiling had a colorful mural. It showed figures in flowing bright clothing and elaborately decorated pressure suits walking in a circular pattern like they were all marching toward the center point of the ceiling. Deni had taken the precaution of putting on a landing vest, which had all the equipment you might need for walking on a hostile planetary surface, including an emergency breather tube. They used the attached camera to record everything, because crew certification class had said you never knew what might be important later.

This place was designed like a piece of art, curves and angles meant to be beautiful, colors and textures meant to please the eye. It was empty, and so silent, Deni couldn't even hear any air recyclers. They could yell to ask if anyone was here, if Winnie or Nehian could hear them. But the stillness felt threatening, like it might be broken violently at any instant. Maybe it was better to be as quiet as possible.

A whole line of bay doors stood open along the curve of the wall. Deni walked along them, staring horrified at landing vehicles and tenders of all shapes and sizes, obviously from a variety of different ships. Until they found the two empty mini-landers. It was proof Winnie and Nehian were here somewhere. Deni told themself it was progress.

Between this disembarking area and the station's hall was a line of pillars twisted like the sweet bread Nehian made when they could get the ingredients. There's got to be some kind of barrier for the docks, right, in case there's a lock blow-out, Deni thought.

Probability high, the Interface said. Deni pretended it wasn't a sharp stab of relief to hear it speak again, to hear something familiar that broke the crushing silence. They started forward.

The creeping sensation of wrongness built in Deni's chest and froze their feet just before the line of pillars, at the spot where a barrier might conceivably appear and trap them away from the shuttle. Bouncing between “I can't do this” to “I can't go back without them," Deni couldn't move. They took a deep breath and tried to push past the solid wall of fear. They told themself, this is a tech problem.

Interface whispered, Tech problem, tech solution.

Deni wanted to sob. The reminder that they weren't alone. The reminder that the Interface had figured out at least part of what was going on here and without it, Deni would have had no clue what to do. Thank you. I know I've been a shit to you, and I'm sorry.

It didn't respond, but apparently took the apology as permission to communicate more. Direction estimation of compulsion-signal-to-human-subject traffic, it said. Forward and right at the junction. Deni took that last step past the pillars. No barrier sprang up to shut them in here forever, and they kept walking.

They followed the curved wall past another mural, wondering if the first-wave people who had built this place had really worn flowing skirts and robes and scarves, and so much jewelry dripping from their necks and wrists and waists. It looked cool but terribly impractical. During the frantic rush to get the shuttle prepped, Deni had changed into work fatigues and put on real shoes, but under the exploration vest they still wore a sleep shirt with the cartoon mascot of Ship's homeport and a knitted cardigan. They were definitely under- dressed for this place's heyday. Though probably the murals were just as accurate a representation as Muggy the Talking Lizard.

Seeing the lights from outside had made Deni's veins shiver, but inside it was worse, like someone might come around a corner at any moment. Deni's back prickled with the feeling of being watched, and they admitted reluctantly, There's an intelligence doing this. Luring people here.

The Interface said, Sentient, deliberate. Communicates.

"Communicates?" Deni whispered aloud, and flinched at the way it broke the silence. The compulsion signal you're protecting me from... It was weird to say "protected" in association with the Interface, and Deni had too much going on right now to examine their emotions around that. Communicates with—A new spike of terror hit. With you?

Yes. It makes demands. It added, apparently trying to be reassuring, Irrelevant.

The last thing it had said was irrelevant was the insanely high fee structure at Ring Transit. That had definitely not been irrelevant either. Deni asked. What demands? Then answered their own question. It wants you to let it get me.

Turn left at the junction, it said.

Deni hesitated. Did they trust the Interface? Sort of, mostly. If it wanted something bad to happen to Deni, all it had to do was let the signal through.

At the next junction, the hall stretched out to a wide sweep of silver and translucent stairs with big crystal pillars on each side. There were landings on the way up, large platforms that in a normal place would be used for markets or restaurants or other gathering areas. The walls looked dark at first, then Deni realized they were transparent, looking out onto the asteroid and the darkness of space surrounding it. The stair led up into the lower inverted pyramid. No sign of a lift platform of any kind, not that Deni would have trusted one.

The Interface said, Up.

On the stairs, the transparent walls showed Deni a canyon deeply carved into stone, partially lit by the station's floodlights. After one glance, they didn't look again. The bright light just made the shadows more sharply defined, like something was out there in the dark looking in.

Deni reached the first landing and froze, stomach trying to climb up into their throat.

They tried to see a crumpled pile of clothing, trash left behind when this place was evacuated. But it was a body.

It was old, flesh collapsed under what might be a ship's uniform or work coverall. The hands were stretched out, nails broken and the floor stained underneath. They had clawed at the floor, trying to drag themselves onward.

Deni's heart pounded. Before this moment, they would have said that seeing a dead body would paralyze them with fear, double them over with nausea. Instead it felt like an ice- water bath. They were so alert it was like their eyes and ears had expanded to take in every part of their surroundings. Their normally rambling, racing thoughts were intensely focused. It must be some kind of extreme survival reaction, because they were dripping cold sweat and having all the physical symptoms of a person who should be screaming. Either Deni had been in shock and had snapped out of it or was in some even deeper version of shock that was weirdly helpful. They swallowed down bile and crossed the broad platform to the next set of stairs.

By the time Deni climbed toward the fourth landing, they had given up counting bodies. People must die here pretty quickly. The signal must not let its victims look for food or water, even if there were any supplies left here after all this time. They know, right? Deni asked the Interface. The compulsion doesn't stop them from knowing what's happening. They fight it, but they can't win.

The Interface didn't answer, and Deni trudged up the steps in grim silence. Then it said, Undetermined.

Which part? Deni asked.

It said, Quote: 'They fight it, but they can't win.' Undetermined. Tech problem, tech solution.

Deni stopped, took a long breath. They made themself dig a hydration tab out of the pouch in their vest and swallow it. Okay, they told the Interface. Okay. Don't give up, it was saying. Is it still communicating demands to you?

Yes. It added, It is persistent. There was a hesitation. It demands to download to our hardware.

Deni grimaced. An evil compulsion signal on a ghost station wanted to download to their data storage interface. It was a good thing they were already in shock. Do you know why?

Speculation? the Interface asked.

Speculate; go on.

So it can be transported from its current hardware.

"Oh." Deni said aloud. That's why it calls people. It's looking for brain implants, augments, that it can download itself to, to escape this station.

Probability high, the Interface said.

Thinking that over, Deni climbed the last few steps to the next platform. It was like all the others, strewn with decayed bodies. Then Deni's heart jumped. There was a figure at the base of the next set of stairs. Not crumpled, not slumped over—

Deni ran, boot soles squeaking on the floor. They tripped and slid the last couple meters on their knees.

It was Winnie. She was breathing; she was alive. She sat up straight, legs folded under her, staring upward. She still wore her sleep clothes, lounge pants, a T-shirt advertising air system repair on HighMountain Station, and little shipboard socks with grippy soles. Her expression was set in what looked like deep concentration, her gaze narrowed, and tears stained her cheeks. Deni breathed her name, then scooted close enough to press their forehead against hers.

She sobbed a startled breath and grabbed their arms. In a harsh croak that barely sounded like her, she said, "What— How are you—?"

"It's the Interface," Deni whispered, fishing out a water tab to give her. She didn't let go, so they pressed it into her mouth. "It can block the signal. You know it's a signal, right?"

They felt her jaw work, as she bit the tab and swallowed it. "Yes, that I figured out." Her voice was a little stronger, her grip on Deni's arms hard and desperate. "I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't—" She cut herself off, grimly determined. "It got weaker, when I got up here; I don't know why. I was able to stop and sit down here. But I couldn't make myself turn around and go back."

The Interface said, Positional signal drop.

Deni said, "So she's in a low signal zone. If she moves, it might get worse." They added hurriedly to Winnie, “The Interface. Did you see Ne?”

"He walked past me. I couldn't turn my head. I just saw him out of the corner of my eye. I thought it had you too. I thought—” She squeezed their forearms tighter. "You have sedatives?"

"Oh! Deni could awkwardly walk Winnie to the shuttle with their heads pressed together, but as soon as Deni left to go back for Nehian, the signal would take her again. But not if she was unconscious. “You're fucking brilliant.”

"If it works," she breathed.

Deni tugged into their vest pockets for the medical kit and gave Winnie the sleeping tab. Then they held her until she was all the way out, and they could lower her to the floor and turn her on her side in a recovery position. Then Deni shoved to their feet and started climbing again.

Deni neared the top of the next set of stairs, and they knew what was coming. The odor of decay was so strong now it overpowered the air cleaners. They kept their eyes down as they climbed, until the top step, when they forced their gaze up, braced for more horror.

This was the junction level between the two pyramids, the station's heart, the zero point for the signal. The stairs came up into the center of the huge space. All four outer walls were transparent, and the lights had been dimmed to highlight the view outside.

The silver-etched floor was covered with corpses. Stretched out, collapsed into little heaps.

Interface said, Focus. Goal-oriented.

Deni set their jaw, dragged their gaze away from the dead. Goal-oriented, right. They turned, and relief hit like a wave as they spotted a standing figure.

Nehian faced what looked like an art installation, meant to be a static representation of a storm, with different colors of tiny crystal conduits flowing like arteries, circling up like a whirlwind. Deni picked their way forward past the bodies.

As they drew closer, something in the bottom of the crystal funnel moved. Peering carefully, Deni saw holographic images hanging inside it. These were views of the station: the docks, the outside of the asteroid, the halls, other places Deni hadn't seen yet. This wasn't art; it was a very fancy control center.

Deni reached Nehian and put their head to his, but he just stood there, like a warm breathing statue. Calling his name, shaking him didn't help. The signal must be too strong here. Deni wanted to make sure Nehian was all right first, get consent to sedate him, but that wasn't going to happen.

Deni pushed a sedation tab into Nehian's mouth and waited until he started to fold over. They dragged his limp weight back through the bodies to the top of the stairs and started to haul him down.

After that it was just slow and painful. Deni wrestled Nehian down the flights of steps and across the landings until they reached Winnie. Then Deni took her down to the next landing, then went back for Nehian.

Midway down, Deni had to rest and have a few water and energy tabs before they could start again. It was rough, bumpy work; all three of them were going to be covered with bruises, and Deni was going to need a hospital.

By the time they got both Winnie and Nehian to the bottom of the stairs, Deni ached all over and was a little high from the energy tabs. They had to collapse on the floor and just breathe and not cry for a bit. Then they checked the others with the medical kit's pulse-ox monitor. Both were fine, though Winnie showed signs of waking. Deni checked the time on the sedation tabs and saw yeah, she needed another dose. Hopefully this would be the last one. It wasn't far to the docks. Then the shuttle, then Ship, and then the fuck out of here.

Deni pulled them along one by one on the smooth floor, taking it in easy stages. They got to the disembarking hall, across from the pillars that partitioned off the dock. Staggering with weariness, Deni grabbed Nehian and pulled his inert body forward.

In the silence, a click sounded as loud as a shot. Deni whipped around.

The twisted pillars unfurled, like rolls of fabric. Deni blinked, with no idea what they were looking at. Then the pillars unrolled into a solid metal wall, floor to ceiling. "No," Deni whispered. "Oh no."

Cold with dread, Deni lowered Nehian to the floor and ran to the barrier. It was solid, the metal cool under their hands. You should have known, they told themselves, you did know. Deni had been afraid of those pillars the whole time. They pounded on the barrier and held back a scream. The floral design etched on it was like a deliberate insult.

Finally, Deni went back and slumped down beside Nehian. They were shaking, but calm enough now to think rationally, mostly. They asked the Interface, Is there a way to find the controls and force it open?

Interface said, Control location unknown.

Right, of course. The next idea... it had occurred to Deni earlier, on the long nightmare journey down the stairs. The three of them might escape, but this thing would keep doing this to people. Keep murdering in its quest for freedom, or whatever the hell. It wants to download to you so it can escape. What would happen if it did?

It would control our functions, the Interface said, as if it was obvious. It was kind of obvious.

Our functions, Deni thought. Winnie had said arguing with an interface like this was like arguing with your spleen. As far as it was concerned, they were two parts of the same person.

What happens if we download it? It'll use you to take over my brain? Keep speculating. You know, just speculate whenever you want, forever.

The Interface said, That is what it thinks will happen. It has no information or prior experience with a being like us.

Okay. Deni's mouth was dry. A being like us. What would actually happen?

Tech solution, Interface said.

It happened in flashes.

Deni was on the hard floor, looking up at the bright lights. Their body felt heavy and floaty at the same time. Nehian leaned over them, saying in panic, "Deni? Deni? What happened? Where are we?"

Deni couldn't move, couldn't answer; their brain took in what they saw and heard, but could do nothing else. Past Nehian, Winnie staggered up. "Just grab them; we've got to get out of here," she gasped.

As Nehian grabbed Deni around the shoulders and dragged them upright, Deni got a glimpse of the dock, of Winnie stumbling toward it. The barrier was gone, the pillars twisted back into their original shapes. That was good for some reason, though Deni couldn't remember why.

The Interface had said, Full initialization must be permitted first for the scenario to work as intended.

Deni had told it, Because you need the access to be able to set the auto-delete. The access to Deni's brain. The code would have to be stored in Deni's neural tissue, or the entity, the Signal entity, would know what they were planning. You know I never wanted that. To initialize you.

The Interface didn't reply. There wasn't much it could say. Facts were facts and arguing didn't change that. Deni had said, I just have to trust you, then.

Trust your spleen, the Interface had said, and Deni had collapsed laughing, maybe a little hysterical.

Next flash, Deni recognized the ceiling of the medical evac bunk on the shuttle, the worn padding cushioning their body. Nehian buckled the safety strap across Deni's chest, fingers fumbling in haste, Winnie squeezed in next to him, trying to get the vitals monitor onto Deni's finger.

Interface? Deni managed, and it was shouting into a void, no answer.

Nehian sounded awful, his voice uncertain and hoarse. "If we're awake, why isn't Deni?"

"Because they took half the drugs in their medical kit, the stimulants and the sedatives, maybe something else—” Winnie was bleary but coherent. "Don't know why. Unless— they were trying to stop the signal from taking control of them, like it did us."

"But why did we wake up?” Nehian asked helplessly.

She shook her head. “Something must have happened after Deni found me."

Interface said, Procedure issue: Signal entity must be sequestered entirely from organic functions.

Yeah, Deni had thought of that too. It would be in their body; it could do or say anything, like go for the shuttle and leave Nehian and Winnie behind. Or kill them. That thought chilled their bones. They dug in the vest pocket, into the supply of drug tabs. "I've got a solution for that."

Tech solution, Interface said.

Deni gasped awake and tried to flail. The flail was unsuccessful; they were strapped into the passenger chair in the rear of the cockpit. Nehian and Winnie were in the pilots' chairs.

"Deni, what the hell?" Winnie demanded.

"Why did you take all the drugs?” Nehian added. "Was that part of a plan?"

The screens floating in the cockpit showed they were at the end of a warp corridor, but Deni's connection to Ship was more complete. They had access to all the menus, everything neatly laid out. Ship was just coming into range of Ring Transit. Interface? Deni asked.

Tech solution successful. No anomalies detected, Interface said. A new update is available for Floating Islands from GameCenter.

Deni groaned in relief. "Yeah, I had a―We had a plan."

"We?" Winnie twisted to face them, brows lifted.

"We," Deni confirmed.

#the murderbot diaries #tmbd #data ghost #martha wells

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