In the middle of a standard sortie, my Gravity Frame suddenly came to life and acted independently, enacting its own combat maneuvers for the apparent purpose of self-preservation. It was, in no uncertain terms, the strangest moment of my entire military career.

My first instinct was to assume Radiolaria had been monitoring the battle closely and had seized control of my machine when she felt I was running a high risk of damaging it. She had stressed to me before the battle that I absolutely must take good care of the unit I was piloting. Yet if that was the case, the maneuver she had enacted was strange; far too amateurish for an accomplished ship’s AI like her.

When I had pursued this line of questioning with the entity in control of my Gravity Frame, I received an answer that was truly beyond the pale. Sveta, as she was calling herself, claimed to be an artificial intelligence.

This was patently ridiculous, of course. AI cores were massive things, far too large to fit inside a Gravity Frame. Radiolaria’s core took up three decks of the ship by itself and had its own dedicated nuclear reactor to sate its astronomical power requirements. A core small enough to install in a Gravity Frame would have to be an order of magnitude lesser in size and power consumption, and in my extensive knowledge no such hyper-technology existed.

I suppose it is possible advanced, miniaturized AI cores had been developed in secret by the military, but I found that unlikely. Firstly, what would such a wondrous device be doing inside of a junked Frame that had been drifting in a boneyard for five years? Secondly, where would humanity find the resources to pursue such a ridiculous research project when our resources were so strained by the unending total war against the Sarcophage?

Indeed, the USSE’s top brass were not wont to fund technological flights of fancy with the severe lack of war materiel plaguing humanity. In our present desperate state, we could no longer afford to pursue such silly things. I’d heard many tales of scientists from early in the war who claimed, if the government would only fund them, they could deliver miracle technologies that would bring swift victory.

How utterly foolish.

And yet, one of those very miracle technologies was speaking to me now, claiming to be the AI of my Gravity Frame. It was utterly ridiculous.

And yet it was far from the most ridiculous claim Sveta made.

*****

“You were… reincarnated?” My incredulity colored my voice perhaps more than I intended.

“Ehehehe…” Sveta replied, her voice strained and wavering. “I’m having a hard time believing it myself…”

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. “Sveta, are you aware that extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence?”

There was a brief pause, during which I can only imagine she was mentally nodding or some such thing. She did seem to possess curiously human mannerisms for being a faceless AI.

“I know, I know. I don’t have any way to prove it to you though. Shit, I’m having a hard time believing it myself. I’m honestly hoping this is all a crazy dream and I’ll wake up soon, warm and snug in my bed.”

I could understand that sentiment, I suppose. I couldn’t count the number of times I wished my current reality were a mere dream. Who would want to live in such a bleak, war-torn world? Returning to the peaceful days of the past was the wish of every soldier.

There was a long, awkward silence as we both became lost in wistful thought. Seeking to break it, I offered an olive branch.

“Look… Sveta. I’m not sure if I believe your story, but it’s clear that YOU believe it. I can concede that much.” I thought that concession rather magnanimous, but it came out harsher than I had intended.

“Mmn…” she responded. She seemed hurt that I was unwilling to believe her.

Whoever heard of an AI that gets pouty? I had never been good at interacting with other humans, which is why I had thrown myself wholeheartedly into machines and piloting, and yet here was a machine with an (allegedly) human mind. Truly my worst nightmare.

“Look,” I said, trying desperately to move the conversation along with a change in subject, “talking to a disembodied voice is a bit disconcerting. Would you mind using an avatar?”

“…Avatar?”

“Like Laria has, yeah? A digital representation of your face I can speak to.”

Her voice betrayed curiosity. “Do I have something like that?”

Despite myself, I sighed and pinched my nose again. I was having to explain EVERYTHING to this rather hopeless robot girl. If this was roleplay, she was doing an incredible job keeping up the kayfabe.

“Look in your human interface options. There should be a default set you can use. Of course, you can customize it if y-“

“CUSTOMIZE?” she interrupted, suddenly filled with vigor. Her moods seemed to change quickly. “I CAN CREATE MY OWN?! LIKE A CHARACTER CREATOR?!”

I didn’t know what a “character creator” was but nodded anyway.

“I FOUND IT! I FOUND IT!” Sveta excitedly exclaimed. “This, uh, might take a few minutes.”

I shrugged. “Go wild.”

In that moment, I understood rather well that Sveta was like a child. She was lost in a strange new world, stressed and completely out of her element, reliant upon the kindness of others to keep her grounded... and yet, in her own strange way, also peppy and insatiably curious.

She’s going to be a real headache… I thought, groaning.

Laria ordered us to a standard patrol route around the ship in case any more Sarcophage units crossed the blind spot in the Absolute Lunar Defense Line. Taking the controls, I flew the patrol pattern while Sveta went to play with her toys. I opted not to report my present strange circumstances to the ship’s stickler AI or her captain just yet, at least not until I knew more about exactly what I was dealing with.

*****

After three hours, when the Radiolaria could finally deploy other combat units, Laria gave us permission to retire back to the hanger bay. Sveta’s AI was nowhere to be seen, and my queries were greeted by nothing more than automated responses. She was still buried deep in her “character creation” and completely oblivious to the outside world. I parked her Gravity Frame body back in its alcove and shooed off the mechanics with some excuse about wanting to fine-tune the control settings. Sealing myself back in her cockpit I kicked back, throwing my Inertia Suit to one side and lounging around in a tank-top and pants while idly fiddling with wiring.

After another hour or so, Sveta’s holographic displays suddenly flared to life. There, in a video chat window much like the one Laria always used, was the unmistakable image of a human girl.

She had a youthful appearance, and a rather small frame. Her eyes were deep green, and her long blonde hair was tied back in four ponytails. She wore a simple white dress, with minor mechanical embellishments. Her expression was one of pure joy.

Ah, I thought. She’s cute. It was a simple appearance that nicely complemented her cheerfully rambunctious demeanor.

“Miette, Miette! Look! What do you think?!” She twirled around, with the (entirely simulated) centripetal force raising the hem of her dress.

“You’re very cute.” I responded, complementing her in an attempt to smooth over my earlier brusque comments. “It’s a look that suits you very well.”

She put her hands to her cheeks, blushing. “A-Ah, you really think so?!”

No way! How could she have such a strong reaction to a simple complement like that?! I thought incredulously while biting my tongue. She continued to talk, ignorant of my inner sarcasm.

“In my old life I was getting on in years. It’s nice to have a youthful appearance again!” she exclaimed. “Even if my real body is a giant robot…”

Shouldn’t you be taking all this a bit more seriously? I thought, despite myself. Although, we all have our coping mechanisms, don’t we? Especially in these horrifying times. I really, really need to try hard to be more considerate and keep my acerbic side contained…

And so, with Sveta brandishing a shiny new avatar and me struggling to interact cordially with a robot’s human mind, the two of us chatted long into the night.

*****

There is no night in space, of course. The concept was entirely theoretical, a concession to human circadian rhythms. The ship ran on Moscow Standard Time, much like all ships in humanity’s rag-tag fleet. We had returned from our sortie at 1730 hours, and it was 0300 hours before we wrapped up our conversation. There was a lot to talk about, after all.

Firstly, we established a baseline for Sveta’s supposed past life. She claimed to originate from a time a half-century before the present year of 2055. What’s more, there were certain historical details from her memories that didn’t line up with our own world’s history. We concluded that her alleged reincarnation had caused her to jump to an alternate world or timeline, a concept purely from the realm of science fiction. Still, since I was entertaining the ludicrous idea of a Gravity Frame AI playing host to a human mind, I figured I might as well go whole hog.

I suggested Sveta browse through the ship’s historical and cultural database, to better familiarize herself with the world she was now stranded in. She seemed a bit timid about the idea, though.

“If I just start freely accessing the ship’s computer, won’t Radiolaria notice? Radiolaria the AI, not the ship, I mean…”

It was an odd distinction to make. In a sense, the ship was nothing more than Laria’s body, much like Sveta’s body was a Gravity Frame. Still, it was a concept that befuddled even experienced soldiers, so I chose not to belabor the point.

“I’ll give you my low-level access codes. If you don’t go nosing around in any classified systems, it will simply look like one of the pilots pulling up information.”

There was no harm in letting this insatiably curious girl read a few wiki articles, right? She would just be learning things that were common knowledge to the rest of us.

Sveta nodded. “Ok! In that case I’ll work hard on studying! If I get smart, I can be a better partner for you, right?”

“Partner?” I said, surprised.

“Yeah! You’re the pilot, I’m the robot! We can work together and try our hardest to not die!”

“Why,” I asked, incredulity once again creeping into my voice, “would you think of me as a partner? I’m a soldier who uses machines to fight and kill. Gravity Frames are tools to me.”

“Well,” she said, fidgeting and blushing, “i-it’s because you gave me a name, and everything…”

I rubbed my nose as I thought this over. “That’s just a sentimental habit of mine, okay? Plus, I don’t know how much use I have for a robot that takes over the piloting without warning. Ah, why did you do that anyway?”

“Wah! W-Well, those clawteeth were about to take a big bite out of me, and you didn’t seem to be moving to dodge them…”

Self-preservation, as I thought. I suppose an artificially intelligent Gravity Frame would want to preserve its own life. What a ridiculous concept.

“I understand where you’re coming from, but engaging in melee combat with clawteeth is the worst possible approach in that kind of situation.”

“Weh? Really?”

“Indeed. Clawteeth are superior to Gravity Frames in melee combat, and if their teeth get a grip on armor they shred it to pieces. I was planning to dodge them with a burst of thrust at the last moment, so they would smash into each other and I could blast them from a safe distance.”

“Ah…” Sveta looked distraught and frightened. Seeing her make a sad expression stirred a protective instinct deep inside me.

“S-Still, you did manage to kill them, so it’s alright. Just trust me to do the piloting in the future, okay?”

“D-Does that mean you’re willing to pilot me?” she said, suddenly excited.

“Er… sure, I suppose.” I replied, shifting my gaze. I had unintentionally said a bit more than I intended.

“Woohoo!” Sveta exclaimed, happily. Then, a shadow suddenly darkened her face as her mood changed once again.

“Ah, about that… Radiolaria said you have a… erm… history of smashing up robots.”

I didn’t really have a good response to that. This was the first time a Gravity Frame had objected to my piloting style. Since Gravity Frames were tools meant to be used by soldiers, a self-aware one was a contradiction in terms.

“I would appreciate it if you could be a little more careful in the future, yeah?” Sveta continued, casting her gaze down shyly.

Ahhh god DAMN IT! When she asks so cutely, I can’t say no! Honestly, what’s wrong with me? My budding protective instincts were making me act completely out of character. Did she pick a cute avatar on purpose to make me flustered like this?!

“F-Fine. I’ll be extremely careful so you don’t get damaged, okay?” I said, fidgeting.

“Woohoo! Thanks, Miette! In exchange, I’ll study hard and be the best robot partner I can, okay?!”

I rubbed my nose in frustration once more. Honestly. What the hell have I gotten myself into here?!

In the end, Sveta asked me to keep her sentience a secret from the others on the ship, at least for the time being. She was worried that, due to her unique nature, she would be dissected and studied in a lab if she were found out. I didn’t think the captain would be so quick to lose a combat asset like that, especially in our current situation, but my protective instincts overrode my better judgement and I agreed to her request, at least for the moment.

With that I left her alone to study the wikis, clambering back to my bunk for some shut-eye. The days events had left me exhausted, and I suspected the upcoming days would be equally taxing. I had apparently, by sheer accident, taken on a partner who was equal parts rambunctious, frightened, impulsive and insecure. She was a whirlwind of emotion, and I could only imagine what tribulations the future held.

And yet, somehow, I found myself smiling as I drifted off to sleep.