Chapter 33 - Constructive Distractions

  Darius once again found himself hiding away in his temporary room in the safehouse. It was becoming depressingly familiar at this point – he’d spent the vast majority of the last week in this tiny little box.

  Despite his fatigue, he was pacing the length of the room, feeling the pent-up urge to do… something. He didn’t even know what; he just needed some activity to get his mind off things. Telling the Freeholders about Echo may have been the right choice – or, considering how casually Harlan had mentioned the possibility of his death, the only choice – but that didn’t make it any less stressful.

  He felt both liberated and vulnerable at the same time. On the one hand, he’d never been the best at keeping secrets, and the knowledge that he’d been lying by omission to his squad had been a constant weight at the back of his mind. On the other hand, his big secret was now out there, and he had almost no control over how the situation would develop from here on out.

  Darius huffed in frustration, throwing himself on the bed and staring up at the ceiling accusingly. His first inclination was to use his sudden surge of nervous energy to sneak into the nearest junkyard or salvage yard and pick up some of the materials he would need for Echo’s frame.

  Unfortunately, he suspected the Freeholders wouldn’t react kindly to him leaving the safehouse right now. It would look like he was trying to make a break for it.

  Not that making a break for it hadn’t crossed his mind, of course, just that he’d decided against it for now.

  {You seem unsettled,} Echo’s voice crackled softly in his augs, cutting through the silence.

  Darius snorted, rubbing a hand over his face. “Gee, what gave it away?” He shifted on the bed, sitting up with a groan. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that my life might be a coin toss away from being killed, all depending on what Voss decides? And she hardly struck me as the kind of woman to lose sleep over some guy getting killed to preserve secrets.”

  {Harlan appears rational. The odds of him resorting to violence without reason seem low. Additionally, I believe the likelihood of him arguing in your favour is high.}

  Darius snorted. “Yeah? And what are you basing that off, your incredible understanding of human psychology?”

  {I am basing it on his observed actions and personality. If you recall, he twice offered you the opportunity to leave, stating that you ‘didn’t sign up for this’. Those are not the actions of a ruthless killer.}

  “Yeah, well, don’t forget that he said he’s been doing this for thirty years. You don’t last that long playing this kind of game without doing things you regret. I’m sure he’d be all cut up about having to kill me – seems like a nice enough guy, after all – but that wouldn’t change the fact that he absolutely would kill me if he had to.”

  Darius had always known, in the back of his mind, the sort of people the Freeholders were. Oh, sure, they talked a big game about ‘freeing people from the Empire’s oppressive rule’, but at the end of the day they only cared about their own goals – and if there was some collateral damage along the way to achieving those goals? That was just the cost of doing business.

  Just because he happened to agree with most of those goals didn’t mean he agreed with the methods they used.

  {Speculating on Harlan’s intentions – or Voss’s decision – accomplishes nothing,} Echo replied. {If he intends harm, worrying will not prevent it. If he does not, you’re wasting energy on irrelevant concerns.}

  Darius scoffed, pushing himself to his feet and resuming his pacing. “It’s called being human, Echo. Worrying about things I can’t control is basically in the job description.”

  {A suboptimal trait.}

  “Yeah, well, nobody asked you to weigh in on human flaws,” Darius said, throwing a half-hearted glare at nothing in particular. His steps slowed as his eyes drifted to the corner of the room where his newly purchased tools sat in a neat pile, untouched since they’d arrived at the safehouse. “What about you, huh? You ever worry about anything?”

  {I analyse probabilities and plan accordingly. Worrying serves no practical purpose.}

  “Figures,” Darius muttered, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. The tension in his shoulders refused to ease, the restless energy churning just below the surface.

  {If you require a distraction, perhaps now would be an opportune time to arrange your tools and begin preliminary preparations for the frame.} Echo’s tone was calm, almost coaxing. {It is a productive outlet for your current state.}

  Darius hesitated, glancing at the tools again. “Not much point, though, is there? I’ve got the tools now, but I don’t really have any of the parts.”

  {The 3D printer you purchased has an internal storage of materials. This reservoir is filled with a combination of filament and meta-materials; you will need to refill this storage after moderate use, but there should be enough to begin printing off some parts.}

  Darius blinked. “Is that why you were so insistent on me buying this particular printer?” he asked, walking over to the pile of tools and starting to sort through them.

  {Correct.}

  Darius sighed, crouching next to the 3D printer box and flipping it open. The packaging was utilitarian, the kind of design that screamed “budget model” even when it was brand-new. He pulled out the main components: the base, the printing arm, and a few neatly bagged cables and attachments.

  In fairness, the fact that the seller had bothered to put all the parts in little bags at all was surprising. Buying second-hand kits like this was often a bit of a coin flip – and even when essential parts or cables weren’t missing entirely, they often didn’t work very well.

  “Well, guess I know what I’m doing for the next hour,” he muttered, spreading the parts out on the small table. The assembly instructions were printed on a single, folded sheet of paper with crude diagrams and sparse explanations.

  Contrary to his pessimistic expectations, the process of assembling the printer actually seemed reasonably simple. Centuries of development still hadn’t quite managed to make anything truly ‘idiot proof’, but they were getting closer all the time.

  The printing arm – with the extruder and UV emitter already built-in – slid smoothly into place with nothing more than a faint click as the alignment pins were seated into their slots. Next came the screws, and he rummaged through the small packet provided, pulling out the tiny hex key required to tighten them. The screws weren’t self-aligning, so he had to hold the arm steady while awkwardly twisting the tool.

  “You know,” he grunted, leaning into the task, “you’d think they’d make these things a little easier to put together. Like, I don’t know, magnetic mounts or something.”

  {Cost considerations likely prevent such features in lower-tier models,} Echo replied.

  “Yeah, figures.” With the arm secure, Darius attached the storage reservoir to the side of the base. The reservoir was a transparent cylinder with a feed tube that snapped into the printer’s intake. Sure enough, the reservoir was mostly full of a thick, highly viscous dark grey liquid. From some cheap kits he’d played around with as a child, Darius knew that the plastic-like substance produced from the feedstock was of decent quality – fairly light, and strong enough for any use hobbyists could come up with.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Whether it would manage to stand up to the kind of wear and tear a robotic frame would produce, he had no idea, but that was more Echo’s problem than his.

  Everything clicked into place smoothly, and he made sure to check the seal before connecting the power supply. You only had to spray feedstock all over the room once for that lesson to sink in.

  The final component was the control panel, a small touchscreen interface that slid into a slot on the front of the base. Once it was installed, he powered on the printer. The screen flickered to life, displaying a simple menu with options for filament management and model loading.

  Darius wiped his hands on his pants and grabbed the dataslate he’d snagged from the table. “Alright, let’s see if this thing actually works.”

  He connected the dataslate to the printer via a short cable and opened the proprietary program that came with the printer. The interface was cluttered and unintuitive, with tabs and dropdown menus that seemed designed to confuse. Darius squinted at the screen, scrolling through the templates.

  “Okay,” he muttered. “Where do I even start with this? I have no idea how to build proper 3D models.” The furthest he’d ever gotten with hobbyist 3D printing involved illegally downloading some models of a toy he wanted. “It’s like they built the program to make you hate it.”

  {Allow me,} Echo said. The dataslate’s screen blinked as Echo overrode the controls. The chaotic interface dissolved into a blank workspace, and within seconds, a detailed wireframe model of a complicated-looking part appeared on the screen.

  Darius quirked an eyebrow. “Well, at least I don’t have to learn how to do it.” Experimentally, he swiped the screen, sending the model spinning in virtual space. “What’s this part for anyway?”

  {A modular mounting point designed to hold the processors and data drive in place,} Echo answered. {The part will take approximately twelve minutes to print and is the first of sixteen parts required to build the mount.}

  “Ah,” Darius said flatly. “I’m getting the impression I’m going to be spending a lot of time putting things together.”

  {…Yes, I’m afraid that building a robotic frame will require you to actually build some things. Apologies if I didn’t make that clear.}

  The snark was tangible.

  “Alright, no need to rub it in,” Darius muttered, leaning back and watching the printer’s arm begin to move. The motor hummed softly as the extruder heated up and started laying down the filament in precise layers. The smell of molten plastic and faintly metallic meta-materials filled the room as the model began to take shape.

  It was faintly hypnotic, watching the printing arm spin and twist around the part. “Gotta admit,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “this is kinda satisfying. Watching the printer do its thing, I mean.”

  {Progress often alleviates anxiety,} Echo observed. {It provides a sense of control over one’s circumstances.}

  Apparently, though, Darius wasn’t going to be given long to admire the process.

  {That said, I believe a better use of your time would be to unpack the rest of your purchased tools and ensure you are familiar with their use.}

  Darius shot an irritated glance at the wall. Unfortunately, it wasn’t terribly satisfying trying to make faces at something that didn’t have a physical form yet, so he gave up after a moment and turned his attention to the rest of the tools still in the corner.

  He crouched down, pulling the next box toward him and flipping it open. First up was the diagnostic scanner. It was a compact device, smaller than he’d expected, with a sleek design that made it look almost like it belonged in a medbay rather than a workshop. He powered it on, watching the tiny screen flicker to life with a sharp glow. A simple interface popped up, and he toggled through a few settings to familiarise himself with its functions.

  It wasn’t too dissimilar to the scanners he’d used at the shipyard, though naturally it was designed to work on smaller projects than an entire spaceship.

  The scanner emitted a soft hum as he ran a test sweep over the 3D printer. A small, wireframe schematic of the printer appeared on the scanner’s screen, along with readouts of internal temperatures, power levels, and material usage. Darius grinned faintly—this would definitely come in handy for troubleshooting down the line.

  “Okay, you pass,” he muttered, setting it aside and pulling out the soldering kit next. This was more of a mixed bag. The soldering iron itself was a no-frills model, but it was serviceable. The kit included a few basic accessories—a spool of solder wire, a de-soldering pump, and a small cleaning pad. Darius plugged in the iron and tested the heat setting. The tip glowed faintly, the heat rising quickly.

  The weakest aspect of the soldering iron was probably going to be his rusty skills, to be perfectly honest.

  “Not bad,” he muttered, giving the iron a nod of approval as he switched it off.

  Next was the real prize: the precision screwdrivers. These were the most expensive tools he’d bought, and they looked the part. Each screwdriver had variable-strength magnetic heads, customisable tips, and ergonomic grips designed for long-term use.

  The heads snapped into place with a soft click, and Darius adjusted the magnetic strength with a small dial at the base of the handle. The prehensile tips could bend slightly and spin freely, giving him access to screws at awkward angles.

  “Now this is more like it.” There was something incredibly satisfying about playing with cool new toys—tools. Definitely tools.

  Before he could get too carried away, the printer beeped at him. Darius set the screwdrivers aside and walked over to find that the part had finished. It came free from the heated base of the printer with a quick tug, and the dataslate flickered as Echo updated it with another wireframe model.

  The machine whirred back to life smoothly, already laying the foundation for the next part. Darius watched it, slightly bemused.

  “You know, I’m feeling a little redundant here,” he commented.

  {Do not worry, Darius,} Echo assured him. {I still need you for your opposable thumbs. At least for now.}

  Darius rolled his eyes, leaning forward to tap at the reservoir. The level was visibly lower than when he’d started – to be expected, of course, but something he actually hadn’t considered.

  “Hey, Echo, how much feedstock does this thing need? Am I going to have to hunt down some special blend for your fancy frame?”

  {The frame does not require specialised feedstock,} Echo replied. {The basic filament and meta-materials available at retail outlets will suffice. However, you should be aware that the cost of feedstock can accumulate quickly over the course of the project.}

  Darius groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Great. Because I’m just rolling in credits right now.”

  {If it were cheap and easy, everyone would do it,} Echo said dryly. {Regardless, the current feedstock levels should be sufficient to finish the mounts for the drives and processors. While you would be able to afford several refills even with your current financial difficulties, it may be easier to leverage your existing relationships to acquire additional resources.}

  Darius took a moment to mull that over. “You mean asking the Freeholders? I don’t think I’m exactly their favourite person right now. Not to mention, I’m fairly certain they’re going to have some concerns about me building you a body in the first place. Asking them to help might be a step too far.”

  {True. I was referring, however, to your friend, Finn. Did he not offer to help purchase supplies for you?}

  Darius sighed, leaning against the table and tapping the edge of the dataslate thoughtfully. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of asking for help, but Finn had already offered. And at least it wasn’t difficult or dangerous to buy feedstock for a printer.

  Better this than asking for something really tricky to get a hold of.

  “Yeah, that makes sense. I guess I’ll message him later,” Darius said, only a little grouchily. “Remind me to pay him back when I can.”

  {Certainly. While waiting for the next part to complete, it would be helpful if you got some more precise measurements of the drives and processors.}

  “Yeah, yeah, just call me your errand boy,” Darius grumbled, pulling out the requested parts and looking at them blankly for a second. “Uh… I don’t really have a way to measure these,” he admitted.

  {I hadn’t noticed,” Echo said with the faintest hint of sarcasm. {There is no need. I am able to use other objects in your field of vision as references to approximate the required dimensions.}

  “Isn’t that, like, super imprecise? Like, these new optics are better than my old ones, but I don’t think they’re sensitive enough to accurately measure things.”

  {It is not ideal, but I am resigned to working with substandard materials and tolerances. This frame will be barely adequate, but hoping for better with our limited resources and skills is pointless. Still, even with the limited functionality this frame will provide, it should be easier to design a second, much higher-quality frame.}

  “So… the first thing you’re going to do with this body is build a new, better body?”

  {Essentially, yes.}

  “I’ll try not to feel too offended,” he snarked

  {That was not meant to be disparaging – considering your background and current circumstances, you are adapting remarkably well. It is simply unrealistic to expect to build an advanced frame using these tools and resources.}

  “Makes sense, I suppose,” Darius shrugged off the matter, trying to suppress a yawn as the events of the day caught up to him. “I guess at this point even a sub-standard body is better than no body at all.”

  {Indeed.}

  Darius stared idly at the printer as it worked away, layers of feedstock solidified into more useful materials and shapes, building upon each other to create the next component of Echo’s body.

  He didn’t even notice when the rhythmic motions finally lulled him to sleep.