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Things were awkward and tense on Ramosus, though it was no one’s fault. It
wasn’t even Romana’s, though she definitely felt like it was. They were in a
holding pattern. Ramses believed he had successfully cleared all the
corruption in her by flushing her system of all foreign bodies, but they
still weren’t going on missions, even though they received two pings from
the alert system. They were all saying it was because they were burnt out,
but they just wanted to stay and support Romana. Yet that was exactly what
she didn’t want. She didn’t want to be coddled or protected, because it just
made her feel worse. She clearly had other things on her mind anyway.
Romana was brushing off their concern. She seemed to be more worried about
Boyd at this point, which was fine. Mateo would be fine. Ramses had a lot of
data on who he really was, and what separated him from any data corruption.
Boyd, on the other hand, was a threat—to them, and to himself. She wasn’t
even allowed to talk to him.
Mateo was in her room now to check on her. “Hey. I’m not gonna ask you how
you’re doing.” He coolly sat down on her bed next to her. “Instead I’ll
say...what’s up?”
“We have already talked,” Romana said. “We do not need to go over it all
again.”
“That’s why I asked that question,” he pointed out. “You decide on the
topic.”
“I wanna talk about those outstanding pings,” Romana decided. “You should
go.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Mateo insisted. “Before you say anything, I know you
don’t need to be cared for like a little baby, but I think you need to be
distracted, and it’s easier to do that if the distraction is being created
and controlled by someone else. If you spend all day dwelling on what
happened—even unintentionally—it will eat away at you. You run the risk of
it becoming part of your personality. You don’t want that, do you?”
“Guilt and regret are facts of life,” she responded. “They serve a necessary
function. They prevent future potential mistakes. I don’t wanna dwell, but I
don’t wanna forget either. I’m going to spend the appropriate amount of time
reflecting on it.”
“I respect that,” Mateo admitted. “And if you really don’t want to do
something with me, like play a boardgame, I won’t force it. But I still need
to be here as an option, not off on some colony, helping aliens decide where
to plant their grapes, or whatever.”
“Someone should respond to the pings,” Romana reasoned. “It might not be the
problem of low-stakes garden design. It could be really serious.”
“No, that’s the actual problem,” Mateo explained. “It’s a grape conflict.
They don’t know which side of the river is the best, and don’t have time to
observe the seasons.”
“Why would the system flag that?” Romana questioned. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Because the computer calculated a high probability of it leading to what
will initially appear to be a compromise by planting on both sides. But this
grape species is high maintenance, so they will have to live in two separate
communities. Years from now, the computer thinks it will start a war. It has
apparently run a lot of simulations.”
Romana was annoyed. “So you should go. Why are we arguing about
this?”
“That could take decades,” Mateo dismissed. “They will still be there a few
days from now. I’m staying here. Again, we don’t have to do anything, but
I’m not leaving.”
She sighed. “Yes, you are.” She reached up and slapped the back of his neck.
It stung. He tried to pull it out, but whatever it was burrowed into his
skin.
“Boyd helped me build that. You won’t be able to return to Ramosus until
you’ve completed whatever task you went there to do. This is my decision as
navigator.”
He teleported into the on-base slingdrive, which powered up on its own, and
sent him away, along with Ramses and Angela. A second trip took the other
three.
