I was busy collating data and organizing battle reports in my virtual office when Sveta entered.

“Can I help you?” I asked in a brusque tone, straightening my glasses and glaring.

“Ehehehehe!” Sveta responded with a rather grating giggle. “I’m a bit bored, soooo…”

“I fail to see how that’s any of my concern.” I responded.

“C’mon Lariaaaaaaaaaa,” she said, her voice taking on the annoying quality of a whining puppy. “All the pilots are busy or sleeping, and I have nobody to talk to! We’re both computer girls, so I thought we could have a little girls-only time!” She sidled up beside me and clung to my arm. I resisted the urge to swat her away like a fly.

“I am busy as well. Please return to your own virtual space and continue to review the training materials I provided you.”

“I’m already finished!” she responded cheerfully.

“Already… that was over twelve terabytes of data!”

“It was easy! I just stuffed it all into my brain! Being an AI sure is convenient, bwahahahahahaha!”

Ugh. Captain Savitskaya seemed to think this girl’s upbeat mannerisms would have a positive effect on the crew, and far be it from me to question the judgement of my captain, but I could not see her as anything other than an annoyance. Yet no matter how curtly I answered her, or how strongly I glared at her over the rim of my glasses, she would not be deterred.

Whatever. When life gives you lemons…

“Very well. We will commence a review of the study materials. Prepare yourself.”

“Aye-aye!” Sveta responded, saluting clumsily.

I swore to myself. This goddamned girl is going to give me compiling errors.

*****

As our review commenced, I could find no flaw in her recollection of the materials. Despite her breezy attitude, she seemed to be taking her studies seriously.

This round of study had focused on humanity’s tactical analysis of the Sarcophage. It included a huge swath of combat data spanning 34 years of war, records of live and deceased dissections of frame-class alien creatures, and standard battle plans for dealing with various enemy types and formations. It wasn’t long before our discussion turned to theoretical topics.

“So they’re not, like… intelligent, right?” Sveta asked.

“We don’t believe so. As you can see from the dissections, there is no complex central nervous system. Their bodies contain only simple ganglia and connective nerve tissue. We estimate their intelligence is the same level as a cockroach.”

Sveta retched, and entirely pointless action for a computer-simulated avatar. “Bleh. Those dissection videos were super gross!”

“Indeed.” I responded. “I should think you would be more disgusted by seeing your fellow Gravity Frames in various states of disassembly and disrepair in the hanger bay.”

Sveta’s eyes widened, and she brought her face close to mine. “Hey. Was that a joke? WAS THAT A JOKE, LARIA?”

“Surely not. Neither one of us seems to be laughing.”

“NO THAT WAS DEFINITELY A JOKE!!” Her face was lit up by a huge smile.

“Think whatever you want.” I said, shifting my gaze away. I quickly steered the conversation back to the topic at hand.

“Ahem. It is the Sarcophage’s lack of intelligence that makes communication with them impossible. That is why we cannot reach a mutual understanding or peaceful co-existence with them.”

“Hmm…” Sveta tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Does that mean they’re naturally occurring spaceborne lifeforms?”

Ah. That was a more astute observation than I had expected from her.

“That is one of the prevailing theories, yes. However, their ecosystem does not seem to be a naturally occurring one.”

“Because they lack reproductive biology, right?”

Just how sharp is this girl? I thought. I shouldn’t underestimate her abilities as an AI simply because I find her annoying.

“Correct. Individual Sarcophage have no reproductive capacity. Instead they are hatched by their ships in what seems to be an entirely asexual reproductive process.”

Sveta nodded. “I saw videos of that. They eat their own dead and return the biomass to the ships. And then new Sarcophages come out from inside! There wasn’t a lot of data on how exactly that happens, though.”

“Humanity has never managed to successfully capture a Sarcophage cruiser, much less study one. They tend to, ah, consume themselves when in an untenable tactical situation.”

“Self-cannibalism to avoid capture, huh…” Sveta said while making a retching noise again, no doubt remembering one of the many grotesque records of such events. “Well, I don’t think that kind of biology entirely disproves natural evolution. But it’s easier to think they’re artificially manufactured biotechnology, huh?”

“Precisely. That theory suites the facts better. For example,” I said while pulling up a set of hologram cross-sections of several hundred Sarcophage forms. “The Sarcophage units encountered by humanity at the start of the war show differing morphology from those encountered at present.” I enlarged the view of a historical Sarcophage unit, a mass of tentacles wrapped around a spiral-patterned cruciform shell. “This particular frame-class unit, the spiralvore, became less effective against human forces when we introduced Gravity Frames. It lacked the maneuverability or power to engage Gravity Frames at melee range and had no ranged weapons. Soon after, the alien ships stopped producing them, and began spawning clawteeth instead.”

“And since they don’t breed sexually, natural selection probably didn’t play a role.” Sveta mused. “Maybe each ship acts like the queen of an insect hive?”

“We would need to study a Sarcophage ship in detail to confirm or deny that theory, and humanity is not in a tenable position to do that at the moment.”

“Ahahaha, true.” Sveta laughed while rubbing the back of her head. She then looked directly at me. “What’s your personal opinion on the matter, Laria?”

“My… opinion?” I said quizzically.

“Right! Scientific theories are one thing, but you’ve been fighting these things for many years on the front lines! What do YOU think they are?”

“Hmm.” I straightened my glasses. “Personally, I believe they are the solution to the Tsiolkovsky Conundrum.”

“The… what?” Sveta’s eyes unfocused, indicating she was accessing data. “Oh! The Fermi Paradox!”

“Fermi Paradox? I’m not familiar with that phrase.”

“That’s what it was called in my old world.” Sveta explained. “The idea that the galaxy should theoretically be filled with life-bearing planets, some percentage of which should have developed interstellar travel, and yet historical evidence of alien signals or visitation is nonexistent!”

I nodded. “Before the Sarcophage arrived, humanity was on the cusp of becoming a starfaring civilization. We had colonized the Moon, Mars and the asteroid belt, and there were even promising experiments into the creation of superluminal drive. As humanity was about to achieve greatness, we were suddenly and violently struck down by an alien force committed to our annihilation. The timing is too convenient.”

Sveta nodded. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“Perhaps the same fate meets any other civilization who expands into space. If the evolution of intelligent life is as common as we think, allowing too many civilizations to reach a superluminal stage would intensify competition for resources and space. It would simply be a repeat of the same overpopulation pressure that drove humanity into space in the first place.”

“So the Sarcophage are like the galaxy’s bouncers! Keeping the club exclusive to people who were invited!” Sveta exclaimed.

What an unusual metaphor.

“Well, that’s just my own theory. There are others who believe they are divine retribution, a punishment visited upon humanity for our sins. Others think they are simply the galaxy’s natural immune system, responding to humanity as if we were a viral infection. Some even claim they originated from government bio-experiments in the outer solar system that went berserk.”

“Geh!” Sveta gagged. “I’d hate to think that last one is true!!”

“As would I. There is no evidence for that particular idea, but it’s popular among fringe conspiracy theorists.”

“Can’t escape the loons in any world, huh…” Sveta said sourly.

*****

Eventually our conversation moved on from studious matters to more idle chatter. Perhaps this was the “girl’s talk” of which Sveta spoke earlier.

I suppose it was not unpleasant.

“My body’s so old and busted!” Sveta whined. “I wanna be pretty and sleek like the other Gravity Frames!”

“We presently do not have the resources. However, given the CIC processing potential of your computer core, I do agree limiting it to an older model like the Nighthawk is a waste.”

“Right?! I should have a curvy, sexy body bristling with weapons!”

“I do not believe I have ever heard anyone describe a giant robot as ‘sexy’ before. Although some of the conversations between the mechanics do make me suspicious.”

Sveta laughed at that comment. “Are you saying only a mechanic could appreciate my beauty? Ugh, all the ones on this ship are oily old men though…”

“It is a moot point unless you plan on engaging in sexual relations. I should think you would crush any human partner, so I must ask you to refrain.”

Sveta brought her face close to mine, smiling brilliantly. “Okay that for SURE was a joke!”

“Perhaps.” I said, straightening my glasses.

“Still,” Sveta said while pulling back and fidgeting a bit, “I wouldn’t mind it if my pilot thought I were sexy.”

“What possible purpose would that serve?” I asked incredulously.

“Well, like, I designed this avatar to be super cute so people would like me, y’know? It would be nice if Miette thought my physical body was sexy too!”

“Hmm. 2^nd Lieutenant Levesque’s piloting history would suggest she does not bear any particular attachment to the units she pilots.”

“Ahahaha, true.” Sveta laughed awkwardly.

“If it bothers you, we could assign you another pilot.” I suggested.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Sveta crossed her arms in front of her face in an X shape. “I have to protect my precious pilot no matter what! I could never have anyone else inside of me!”

“You do realize that sentiment is a result of your pre-programmed settings, and not any personal decision on your part?” I asked.

“Don’t care!” she declared. “Laria, you wouldn’t want someone else as your captain, would you?”

I didn’t respond to that right away. I was hesitant not because my answer was uncertain, but because I was embarrassed to admit it.

“That… would not be desirable.” I finally responded.

Sveta’s brought her face close again, her eyes searching mine. I shifted my gaze downwards.

“Ohohohohoho.” she laughed with a mischievous inflection. “Laria, you’re blushing!”

“I AM NOT!” I shouted. “Th-The coloration of my avatar’s face is entirely unchanged!”

“True. I was lying.” she responded with a huge grin. “Still, your reaction told me EVERYTHING I needed to know about how you feel towards the captain!”

I stared at the ground and fidgeted. Sveta put her hands on her hips and struck a triumphant pose.

“I’m the same way, you know?” she declared. “You’re in love with your captain, and I’m in love with my pilot! Neither one of us could stand having someone else!”

How did she make that leap in logic?! I thought desperately. More importantly, HOW DID SHE GUESS CORRECTLY?!

I continued to stare at the ground, utterly embarrassed.

Should I try to deny it? This girl might seem like an airhead, but she’s surprisingly sharp! I can’t keep underestimating her!

In a small voice, I finally spoke up.

“N-Never… in my ten years of uptime… has anyone discerned my foolish infatuation. How did you k-know?”

Sveta’s grin was brighter than the sun. “You might be an AI, but you have the heart of a girl. It’s easy to read for someone with a lifetime of experience like me!!”

Gah. What an utterly ridiculous answer.

Sveta held out her hand towards me. “Don’t worry, it’s a secret between the two of us! I won’t tell anyone else! And since we both feel the same way, let’s work our hardest to protect those most precious to us, yeah? For the sake of our tender maiden’s love!”

Slowly, reluctantly, I took her hand and shook it.

“….Very well.”

My head was swirling with a thousand conflicting thoughts, but one asserted itself above the others.

This goddamned girl is going to be the death of me.

…Still, I don’t hate her.