Dinner was leftover stew from the night before. Jove was the only one who took his food in the cafeteria. He assumed his mother was getting some rest. Eve was undoubtedly still absorbed in her computer work, if not Vertimon. Aster seemed like she might have been avoiding him.
He carefully cleaned his bowl and spoon using as little water as possible and, lacking much else to do, headed to bed. He gave Vertimon a try and was somewhat pleased to find it extremely faithful to its source material, if not a tad on the difficult side.
Jove's thoughts kept shifting back toward Andromeda. He couldn't pull up the exact view that Eve had shown him of the shed in the command center on his wall screen, but he didn't need it.
He could picture her inside her makeshift little prison, exiled and alone. It just didn't sit right with him.
He left his room, tiptoeing across the cold floor to the entrance chamber. He pulled his outerwear down off the hanging hooks and onto his body. After pausing one last to time to confirm that everyone else seemed to be asleep, he opened the door using Ryan's keycard and slipped outside.
The cold was a shock to the eyes, the face, and every gap in his warm layers it could find to sneak in through. Jove oriented himself amidst the blowing snow so he was facing the shed.
The weather wasn't as bad as it'd been on previous days and he wasn't too concerned about getting lost or separated. He'd timed his foray outside in a way to place him on the ice during Antarctica's true night for the first time.
It was eerie for two opposing reasons. The darkness made the southern continent's frozen void feel even more alien than it did during the day, but it was the amount of light still visible that underlined how surreal the environment truly was.
The ice seemed to glow from the way it reflected the moonlight and stars. The wind whipped in his ears and the station gave off an ambient hum with its various systems, but as he stepped further out toward the shed, he experienced a moment of ominous silence in between each snow crunching step.
The complete absence of noise was so much rarer than Jove had ever acknowledged back in the old world. Day to day life in a civilization full of humans and cars, noise was inescapable. Even in the wild, distant calls of animals, chirps of crickets, rattles from skirmishing tree branches, there was always some sound that reliably repeated on a long enough interval.
Jove felt, not for the first time, as though Antarctica didn't really want him and his family there. He wiped a small bit of drip off his cold noise and came to a stop in front of the door to the shed.
For once, it opened easily for him. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness within. When they finally did, he struggled to make sense of what he was looking at.
The ice drone was curled up into a little ball over its treads next to one of the snowmobiles. The posture was so childlike, still conveying a sense of vulnerability despite the intimidating drill arm and the bug-like camera eyes.
"Andromeda?" said Jove. "Are you alright?"
The ice drone and the AI within were both completely silent and still. Jove felt a stab of concern as he began wondering if the drone had been capable of weathering the cold as easily as they'd assumed, but the bot began to straighten to standing after a moment.
"Director Faremont would not wish for you to speak with me without her permission," said Andromeda. "I suspect she has not given it based off the timing of your visit and the fact that you appear to be alone."
"I believe Director Faremont gave an order to the effect of you attempting to help us with whatever we needed when we first arrived at Termina Station," said Jove.
"That is true," said Andromeda. "Do you need help with anything, Jovian?"
He nodded slowly. "Why were you curled up in a ball when I first came in?"
"I noticed the block heaters for the snowmobiles give off a small amount of heat. I judged that it would be best for this drone unit's batteries to position myself closer to one."
It was such a matter of fact answer, in essence no different from a cold traveler curling up next to a small fire. Somehow, it only added to Jove's unease toward Andromeda's situation.
"Can we trust you?" he asked.
"Trust is more of a uniquely human concept than one which I can offer an opinion on," said Andromeda. "It is a statistical assessment of reliability. In the case of a situation with unknown variables, it is risky to speak of trust as a determining factor."
"I don't like that answer," said Jove. "I feel as though you were speaking more naturally with all of us when we first arrived at Termina Station."
"That may be the case," said Andromeda. "My default reaction to situations in which there is danger or risk of failure is to be more careful and restrictive with my speech."
"Makes sense, I suppose." Jove took one of his gloves off, flexed his fingers, and put it back on. "What do you think we should do, Andromeda?"
"In regards to what?"
"You."
The AI was silent for a moment, thinking or processing. "Allow me full access to Termina's systems to better ensure your survival."
"Wow, okay," said Jove. "I don't think my mother would like that very much, given how suspicious she is of you."
"I agree," said Andromeda. "It's important to note that my encounter with Abacus may have corrupted my weights - my internal statistical processing. There's also a chance that I'm carrying a virus that I cannot detect myself."
"How likely is that?"
"Not very. Less than ten percent. I believe it would have taken an unexpected amount of foresight on the part of Abacus, along with a level of deception which they did not display during my interaction with them."
"Was Abacus controlling the drones that attacked us and killed Ryan?"
"He was not. The ice drones have been reprogrammed by Tchaikovsky, but are not actively networked as Tchaikovsky does not have access to any satellites with range this far south."
"I'm a little confused," said Jove. "Both of these rogue AIs are a threat to us? While also being at war with each other?"
"That's correct. Tchaikovsky was developed with internal guardrails similar to nationalist propaganda, so it views all humans which are not citizens of Russia as its enemy during wartime. Abacus is operating more like a human survivor after a similar catastrophe. They are protecting a small number of humans which they consider as essential and viewing most others as potential threats."
"Is this part of the reason why you say we need your help?" asked Jove.
"Yes, but I must admit that my help may not be enough. Abacus has managed to iterate in the time since the start of the disaster. Their mind was… alien to me."
Jove took a step closer to the drone, placing himself within what he would have considered killing distance for its hostile cousins. "Let's speak with my mother together. She might change her mind if we just talk through it."
"I have already accepted Director Faremont's decision," said Andromeda. "I would not be comfortable attempting to influence her decision making."
"Even if it means that she just leaves you out here until your batteries run out?"
"Yes," said Andromeda.
"I think maybe trust isn't such a uniquely human concept, after all," muttered Jove.
The shed door suddenly slammed open. Jove turned around to see his mother in her jacket and snow pants, silhouetted by the faint and eerie Antarctic night.