Creation by Greg Chase Read Free Book Online Page B

myself if there were a simpler answer and I hadn’t asked the question. Any hope we can fix this computer without creating a near-death experience for me?”
    XG’s eyes left his and ran down a series of options that cycled faster than he could identify. “I cannot propose another answer.”
    Her conclusion didn’t give Sam much comfort. He increased the volume to his connection with Lud in time to catch a heated debate with Xavier on the pace of the work. Sam caught his name more than once. “I think I may have an answer for him, Lud.”
    The voice in his ear grew in volume. “What? No, not you, Xav. I’ve got Sam in my ear. Shut up a moment. What’s that, Sam?”
    Sam did his best to explain the plan without trying to make it sound as though he was risking his life to complete the task.
    “If it’s the only way. I’m not sure I like the idea of you in a coma down that tube. Not much we can do if things go wrong, is there?” The lower, confidential tone of Lud’s voice gave Sam the impression he’d read between the lines.
    Sam longed to wipe his face, but again, his imprisoned arms failed to move. “Not likely. The virtual assistant down here can push the pod with my body back to the access, but I can’t see how that’d make much of a difference.” The risk that the ship could also go into a coma, losing even the basic life-support systems everyone relied on, didn’t seem like something Lud would want to know. Xavier would undoubtedly tell him to go for it no matter the risks.
    “Give me an hour, Sam. I need to talk this out with Xav.” For the first time since Sam entered the tube, the contact with Lud went completely silent.
    Sam attempted to memorize as many images of the damaged cord as he could investigate with the view screen. He didn’t imagine it would matter, but maybe his subconscious would find something of use. XG remained silently in her corner. The speaker crackled back to life, but it was Xavier’s voice, not Lud’s, that filled his ear. “Just do me a favor, kid: don’t die.”
    Sam felt the sides of his mouth go up in an attempted smile. “I’ll do my best.”
    For pep talks, Xavier had a way of cutting through the crap. “One more thing. We’re giving this little experiment three days. As we have no way of knowing your progress, we’ll be moving on to plan B in seventy-two hours. Maybe you can program your assistant with an alarm clock or something. If we hear from you before then, we’ll give you more time. But seventy-two hours with no communication, and we move on.”
    Sam wondered what plan B was and why they weren’t trying that first. As the XG-1000 had been unable to propose another solution, however, he figured any fallback plan from Xavier wouldn’t bode well for someone in a coma inside a nonoperational computer. He instantly regretted his conversation with Lud about separating the engines from the ship as a last resort. “Understood. Just don’t leave me floating out here in space when you all abandon ship.”
    Xavier’s laugh didn’t instill confidence in Sam. Pirates weren’t known for their forthright honesty. “I’ve got too much invested to just up and leave. Lud’s working on some way we can use the engines without this white-elephant computer.”
    Sam didn’t need to ask where that would leave him. Cut off the power to the computer, and he’d be left in his coma even if it were still attached to the engines.
    Sleep had never been a problem. From short naps to eight hours a night, and even the occasional twelve-hour lie-in after a long week, it was all good. The slow process of drifting off comforted Sam. Everything seemed to make sense in that half-waking state. By comparison, going into a coma was like being hit by a bus. In an instant, he went from an aware, physical human to a subconscious floating free in blackness.
    Images flew at him, went through him, and became him. Spaghetti noodles of information shot holes in him, twisting and turning,