face appeared outside the hole. “Gilly!” He reached back through the hole, as if leaving Gilly behind hadn’t just been an act of monumental assholishness.
Gilly bent and tried to climb through, but then stopped. He took a step back and shook his head. It was too small. If he tried, he would be cut in half. He would be welded to the door.
“Come on, Gilly!” The edges of the hole glowed hotly. He could see the tips of little pincers working, eating away the gap. Anders roared. “We’re losing Gilly!”
The crabs froze. Gilly hadn’t realized how loud they’d been until they fell silent. The burning glow from their pincers began to fade. There was a small hole in the doorway. Enough to squeeze through if he was determined, he thought. He breathed.
“Kill switch is activated,” said Jackson.
He sank to his haunches. His legs were trembling. What Jackson had said was terrible. But he couldn’t find it within himself to object. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” said Jackson. “Stay put. We’re coming.”
* * *
—
He heard Jackson and Beanfield coming down the corridor, kicking crabs. By this time, he’d been able to run a board and develop a sense of what was working. The kill switch had taken out the AI but left essential systems running, including comms and basically all of Life. Jackson’s face appeared in the hole. Her eyes roved over him. “You okay?”
He nodded.
“You want some help getting out of there?”
“Yes, please.” Anders had disappeared; Gilly didn’t know where to. He was trying not to think about Anders. When he did, anger rushed through him like water slopping over a dam. He had things to do before he gave in to that.
He stowed the board and slid his arms and head through the hole. It was tight and he became stuck and had to ask for help. Jackson and Beanfield seized his wrists and pulled on him like a breech birth and then he flopped to the floor, scattering crabs.
Jackson moved to inspect the door, where crabs dangled, inert but still clinging to the metal. “How long did this take them?”
“Only a few minutes.” He found his feet. “We should reactivate the AI.” They had been dark for twelve minutes. Technically, the exterior scans were working, but they returned too much raw data to parse. Anything could be out there.
Jackson nodded. “Eng-5?” He nodded. They began to wade down the corridor. “Good to know the kill switch works.”
“Before we bring back the ship,” Beanfield said, “can we talk about how it might react?”
Gilly blinked. Jackson said, “Pardon me?”
“The first time we drilled it, it walled up a room. We might want to expect another reaction.”
“I tell you what,” Jackson said. “First we’ll get operational, then we can psychoanalyze the ship.” She resumed walking. When they reached Eng-5, Gilly glanced around the doorway, as if there might be crabs lurking in the crevices. But the room was clean. He moved to a core housing and activated its board.
“I just think—” said Beanfield.
“Life, your stock is not high right now,” said Jackson.
Beanfield closed her mouth. Gilly said, “I’m ready to deactivate the kill switch.”
“Do it.”
He thumbed the board. For a moment, there was nothing, just time to contemplate the empty horror of a ship with a comatose AI, drifting forever. Then he detected stirrings in the core processes. “We have signal.”
“AI is back?”
“Uh . . .” He was seeing something in the readings that he didn’t want to.
“Gilly?”
“It’s online. But it’s performing a cold restart.”