Bastion Saturn by C. Chase Harwood Page B

placed in cryogenic stasis and brought to this lab for analysis. Upon investigating the toy, Scientist Romano’s right glove was breeched by pretasked nanobots that had been placed inside the toy. As I stated before, upon release, the nanos entered the neocortexes of the research scientists, starting a process of self-destruction that spread through this room, and eventually throughout the station, which additionally claimed the police who made the delivery. I remain the sole witness.
    “You said solvents,” said Jennifer.
    Bert cocked his head and pointed at the dangling disintegrating glove. “Was I not clear?”
    Caleb sneered and muttered to himself, “Typical assistant bot wise ass.”
    Jennifer turned to Caleb. “We’re dead. We can’t take our suits off, but they’ll be breached soon enough. We’ll commit suicide just like everyone else.”
    “My assessment as well,” said Bert.
    Caleb stepped closer to the toy in the box. “Bastards back on Earth.”
    Bert took a single step forward. “I have calculated that if it were 100 degrees Kelvin in here, the nanos would cease to operate.”
    “That’s great,” said Caleb. “All we need is to be freezing at minus one-seventy C.”
    “Minus one hundred-seventy-three Celsius,” said Bert.
    “So if we went back out on the surface,” said Jennifer, “the temperature would stop the bots?”
    Bert said, “Actually, yes. However, they will reactivate at only a slightly higher temperature than the typical high on the surface. In other words, it won’t destroy them.”
    “Can they be scrubbed off?” asked Caleb.
    “They have already penetrated the seals on your suits. No.”
    “So going outside is not a solution.”
    “It is not.”
    Caleb started pacing. “Clever weapon.”
    “Expect nothing less from AI,” said Bert with a just a hint of synthetic-intelligence pride in his voice.
    Jennifer’s voice rose with hope. “We find the keys to one of those ships out there, ditch our suits in the airlock.” She spread her arms, palms in the air. “And Walla.”
    Bert took a beat to calculate every possible outcome after such an event and said, “The temperature inside the airlock of any ship will be higher than one hundred Kelvin when the ship is active. The nanos will reactivate and attack the ship’s seals.”
    Resigned, Jennifer sat on a stool.
    Caleb quietly cursed. “We could drop . . .” His voice trailed off. “Nah.”
    Jennifer stared at the floor. “Drop what?”
    Caleb shrugged and pantomimed pulling his helmet off. “We could drop our suits outside a ship. Go in basically naked.”
    “Are you serious?”
    “No matter what, we’ll be walking outside without protection. Might as well do it with the purpose to live.”
    Jennifer clucked her tongue. Bert took a step forward as if in response, placing himself under the beam of a ceiling light. He said, “That is possible, in theory. You will be unconscious in approximately fifteen seconds, dead within three minutes. I calculate that accessing either ship’s airlock and going through the repressurization steps will require more physical activity and time than those fifteen seconds will allow.”
    Caleb hated pessimist do-nothings. Robots, it seemed to him, were naturally pessimistic, with their constant evaluations. Their simple lack of free creative thinking, their unwillingness to embrace chance, made him glad they would never replace men. Then he remembered home and the full integration of humanity into what was basically one big robotic mind. “Are you being assaulted by the nanos, bot . . . Bert?”
    “To my knowledge, no. Logic dictates that their programming causes them to seek out human tissue.”
    “Do you have access to that Hanson Shuttle out there?”
    “I do.”
    “Good, then you are going outside and helping us.”

Part Two: The Wild Frontier

Chapter Eight: Outlaws
    Bert walked with awkward steps as it dragged Monty’s and Bob’s hibernating bodies behind it. The