The Drifting Pioneer Ship Icarus (3)

Before separating the main body from the head, please input auxiliary power first. This will prevent data loss.

Following Nia’s guidance, I checked behind her ear and found a familiar auxiliary input port. Even in the space age, physical ports still felt remarkably like USB. The moment I plugged in the cable from the battery pack, a vivid glow returned to Nia’s half-dimmed eyes.

“Power synchronization complete. You may now separate the head from the body.”

“How? Unscrew something? Disconnect the wiring?”

I asked, readjusting my grip on the dagger. The answer that came back, however, completely missed my expectations.

“Grasp the locking mechanism at the neck and rotate it thirty degrees counterclockwise.”

“...What?”

I clamped my hands firmly under Nia’s chin and around the nape of her neck, then twisted with force. Rrrrrk. Surprisingly, even in this ultra-advanced world, the direction to open was still counterclockwise. It felt exactly like twisting the cap off a plastic bottle.

“Separation successful. This unit is now operating on auxiliary power.”

The head now resting in my hands delivered the report in a detached tone.

“Do you possess a terminal capable of short-range communication? It is required for data exchange.”

“A terminal?”

Was she talking about something like a smartphone? After the apocalypse began, I had long since stopped carrying one. Inside the ship, every device I found was broken anyway.

“I don’t have anything like that.”

“A crew member not even issued a personal terminal, coupled with information-recognition abilities detached from the current generation. According to this unit’s calculations, you appear to be a hibernation crew member who has been in cryosleep for an extremely long period aboard this vessel. Is my conjecture correct?”

A hibernation crew member. Considering I had dimensionally wandered into a ship that seemed thousands of years ahead of Earth’s technology, the description wasn’t entirely wrong. There was no need to complicate things; this explanation would make conversation far easier.

“Close enough. I came from a very long time ago.”

“Hypothesis confirmed. Memory loss from hibernation side effects appears severe. I cannot access the ship’s current network to verify your exact affiliated sector, so I will classify you as an unidentified surviving crew member and provide guidance accordingly.”

The blue light spinning from Nia’s eyes projected a hologram onto the container wall.

“Oh.”

What she displayed was a holographic map. She seemed to want to show me which internal sections to traverse. The moment I looked at the map Nia created, I felt my own mental map updating automatically. What the hell? It could do this too? Convenient.

“I have calculated the safest route to the cybernetic maintenance bay. The total number of hostile drones detected ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠along the current path is twenty-one units.”

Nia continued her explanation, making specific points on the holographic map blink.

“However, by utilizing this unit’s capabilities, we can disrupt their recognition range and minimize combat encounters. The anticipated number of engagements is between two and three. With Master’s current armaments, breakthrough should be possible.”

“On that route, is there any place where I can safely pick up something useful?”

At my question, the lenses inside Nia’s eyes spun rapidly as she ran calculations. Soon three sections of the map glowed bright green.

“This unit recommends three supply points.”

Nia made the first point blink.

“First, the planetary exploration support room. Expected supplies include planetary surface survival kits. You will be able to secure exploration equipment designed for harsh external environments.”

The next area on the map enlarged and emitted a blue light.

“Second, the crew residential quarters. You can obtain bio-maintenance supplies intended for long-term habitation.”

Finally, our ultimate destination blinked in orange.

“Third, the cybernetic maintenance bay. This is both the location where this unit will be restored and the terminus of the current expedition. Here you can secure processing equipment responsible for energy synthesis and material reconfiguration.”

Listening to Nia’s explanation, I quickly summarized it in my head. Camping gear, food supplies, and a generator—in that order. The route scraped together exactly what I needed right now. If I had been alone, I would have been chased by drones and died without ever knowing this jackpot existed.

“This unit has calculated the optimal supply route that can maximize survival probability even after Master escapes the ship’s exterior. Deviation from this route is not recommended.”

“Is there anywhere I can upgrade my weapons to high-performance models?”

The lens in Nia’s eye rotated briefly before a firm mechanical voice answered.

“Negative. The high-performance armory is under permanent occupation by Argos’s elite combat units. Given Master’s current equipment specifications, survival probability in engagement is extremely low.”

“...Yeah, I figured.”

“However, the security room in the crew residential area contains auxiliary combat armaments used by administrative personnel. While not intended for regular combat, this unit judges they will possess higher effective lethality than your current weapons.”

I had no objection to the opinion of this extremely useful android head. When a professional AI said something was impossible, it was impossible.

“Good. We’ll go with that.”

“Additional suggestion. To maximize detection efficiency, please mount this unit on the front mount of your chest harness. The position coincides with the currently equipped flashlight.”

Nia’s eyes sparkled as they emitted light, as though eager to prove her usefulness.

“This unit can also emit light sources from its optical sensors. I can completely offset and replace the existing flashlight’s functions.”

“...Yeah. You look better than a flashlight.”

I yanked the crude flashlight off my chest and shoved it into a corner of my backpack, then fixed Nia’s head in its place. Carrying a severed head mounted on my chest felt slightly disturbing.

Perhaps because some time had passed, the yellow dots on the map had begun scattering again. I gathered my gear ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and stood up.

Thud. Because it was the first time I had carried something attached to my chest, I accidentally bumped Nia against the wall.

“If non-logical impacts accumulate on this unit, there is a risk of data loss and operational shutdown. Please exercise caution.”

She sure talked a lot. And “non-logical impact”? Was she calling me out? She had to know I hadn’t done it on purpose. I couldn’t just let it slide.

“I’ll be careful. In return, could you stay a little quieter from now on? It’s dangerous.”

Her eyes spun again as she processed the request.

“Is this a silence request to facilitate Master’s covert maneuvers?”

“Yeah. Unless it’s necessary tactical information, keep your mouth shut.”

“Request acknowledged. From now on, this unit will maintain tactical silence mode.”

“If you’re shutting your mouth, just shut it. What’s with the tactical silence mode?”

“...”

Instead of answering, Nia simply dimmed the light output of both eyes. It was so absurd I let out a hollow laugh, but the feeling wasn’t unpleasant. Even though she was a robot, it felt like talking to something alive.

I adjusted my grip on the Nailer and headed down the dark corridor illuminated by Nia’s gaze.

“Let’s go.”

...

“The right passage connects to the main engine propulsion sector.”

The route Nia suggested was not the right corridor I had originally planned to take. She said that passage only led to the engine room and contained no survival supplies. If I had gone that way, it would have been disastrous. I silently thanked my luck in meeting her.

Nia also advised against the central route.

“The central passage is where Argos’s surveillance network is most densely concentrated. With current armaments, breakthrough probability is low.”

That left the left passage, but an S-1 grade automatic defense turret waited at its entrance.

“An S-1 class automatic defense turret is deployed at the start of the left passage. There is no route ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to bypass its recognition range, therefore physical destruction is required.”

Combat was unavoidable. I lay prone on the container Nia had recommended and aimed at the turret through the Nailer’s sights. The lens on my chest whirred as Nia focused, sending a faint vibration through my sternum.

“Use the left handle to maximize compression output. Target the rotating ring at the base of the head. Driving a bolt into the gap will suffice. The instant a physical foreign object is inserted, the turret’s drive motor will overload and cease functioning.”

Following Nia’s hushed instructions, I pulled the crude lever on the Nailer’s side all the way back. A hiss of high-pressure gas escaped, and a heavy vibration pressed into my palm.

“It must be neutralized in a single shot. If the first bolt fails to overload the motor, the turret will switch to retaliatory fire mode within 0.5 seconds. In addition, the probability that nearby drones will converge on this location is ninety-two percent.”

I had to finish it with the first trigger pull. I wasn’t lacking confidence. In its current state, the Nailer’s firing mechanism and ballistic trajectory were nearly identical to a conventional rifle. The target area wasn’t especially small, the distance was manageable, and I had enough time to aim properly.

“Please shoulder the weapon to completely dissipate recoil. Immediately before firing, this unit recommends holding your breath to prevent aiming deviation caused by lung movement.”

Nia’s voice resonated quietly from my chest. I braced my elbow firmly against the container’s edge and pressed the stock tight against my shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I can handle this much.”

I exhaled half the air in my lungs and held it. Beyond the flickering darkness, the turret’s red lens locked precisely onto the center of my chest.

“In ten seconds the turret’s rotation cycle will enter the blind spot. Three, two, one… now.”

I pulled the trigger in perfect sync with Nia’s countdown.

Psheew—thunk! Compressed air exploded outward, hurling the bolt along a razor-sharp trajectory. It slammed directly into the turret’s rotating ring.

Whiiiir— The motor’s overload whine rose, followed by a long, screaming mechanical wail—beeeeeep!—before the turret’s red eye flickered and died.

I immediately pressed myself flat behind the container and held my breath. Tension made dry saliva slide down my throat. I carefully summoned the map in my mind to check the surroundings.

Available resources:

1. Hardened steel bolts

2. Battery pack

3. Turret fire-control chipset

The battery packs were common enough, and the bolts could serve as ammunition for the Nailer, but using my authority on them felt wasteful. I chose number three.

A brilliant light flared from the turret’s body. The other wreckage blurred and vanished as though it had never existed, leaving only the single chipset that dropped to the floor with a soft clink.

Nia’s artificial eyes, mounted on my chest, began spinning wildly.

“...System error. Failed to interpret the observed phenomenon. Master, what did you just do?”

“Just picked up something useful.”

“That cannot be defined by the verb ‘picked up.’ The target’s total mass was not preserved, and only specific components were extracted without any disassembly process. This is… a phenomenon that cannot be explained by current ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠technological frameworks.”

A faint frictional noise had crept into Nia’s mechanical voice, betraying confusion.

“Master, were you not a hibernation crew member? That energy just now… according to my database, it resembles…”

Nia paused, lenses blinking.

“…an authority capable of interfering with divinity or causality. What exactly are you?”

I shrugged. Truthfully, even I didn’t fully understand it, so I had no clear explanation to give.

“What do you mean, what am I? You said it yourself earlier. A hibernation crew member with somewhat fuzzy memories. Just roll with it.”

“No record exists in history of a hibernation crew member producing such phenomena, however…”

“Then I guess I’m the first case. Let’s get moving.”

I turned my steps once more toward the cold depths of the ship.