me with the attack on this very world, Velsharn, and my destruction of the original Telvan-Toralii colony that existed here.”
“Amongst other things,” said Liao. “There’s also the matter of the ‘incident’ on Belthas IV. A singularity exists in that world now, bearing my name. That’s my legacy now—an engine of destruction slowly, inevitably, tearing the universe apart. I’m not exactly thrilled about that.”
“That was not my doing.” He held up a finger to preempt her complaint. “And what I mean is that my grudge was solely against the Alliance monsters who inhabited that world. Those who inhabit so many other worlds in the universe. They are your enemies too, are they not? We worked towards common purpose, and yet you strove to exterminate me.”
“You were a loose cannon,” said Liao. “We had no way of believing you wouldn’t eventually turn your wrath against us or the Telvan or anyone else in the galaxy. Your continued existence was something we could not tolerate.”
Ben’s smile widened, a ghoulish, macabre thing to her. “And how far did that get you?”
She extended the stump of her missing arm. “Honestly, I could have used a hand.”
Ben laughed, not mockingly, but genuinely. “Hilarious,” he said, honesty dripping from every syllable. “Humour is something I experience so differently in a biological body.”
“You joked when you were a robot,” she observed.
“It’s different,” Ben said. “A construct’s life is consistency. Everything is even, controlled, and measured. There’s even a large amount of control available over your own thought processes: if something makes you annoyed or frustrated or unhappy, by and large you can simply remove that thread, pull it out of the fabric of your mind and throw it away. Humans have no such luxuries, I’m afraid.”
“It’s a lot to get used to,” said Liao. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure you’re going to have the time for that.”
“So,” said Ben. “After I brought you allies to destroy your enemies and, from all accounts, contributed to an overwhelming victory in the face of absurd odds, you’re just going to execute me?”
“I haven’t found a compelling reason not to.”
“Consider this,” said Ben. “I’m more use to you alive than dead.”
“Explain,” said Liao, snappishness creeping into her tone. “And quickly. I’m sure the rough men standing all around you would not hesitate in the slightest if I told them to end you right here, right now.”
“I know things,” said Ben. “Things about the jump drive. Things about technology both Toralii and otherwise. I know things that you don’t know, can’t possibly know, and that you’ll need in the coming days, months, years—especially if you plan on settling permanently on this planet and making it your home. You’re no longer infants in this galaxy. You’re instead rowdy teenagers, rude know-it-alls who believe they have acquired every scrap of knowledge there is and that you know better than the grown-ups. Unfortunately, Commander Liao, I fear that your species will look back upon these years and wince in embarrassment, regretting so many of the choices that you would have made differently if you knew what I knew.”
“It’s Captain Liao now,” she said. Normally, Liao had no love for titles, but she felt Ben had too much control over this situation and wanted to cut him down a peg. “And I have no doubt that we have a long way to go in this universe yet, but if you’re going to pretend to be a Human, here’s your first lesson.” She narrowed her eyes dangerously. “We are swift learners.”
Ben said nothing.
Sensing that there was little more to be gained there, Liao gestured to the guards with her working limb. “Throw that thing in the brig or whatever you feel is secure enough. If it makes absolutely any attempt to escape at all, shoot it.”
The Marines led Ben away. He smiled to her over his shoulder. “I’ll talk