Half an hour later, and Jove was sitting down for dinner with his mother and aunt. Eve was still in her room, having dismissed the idea of joining the family for the evening meal with a monotone "not hungry."
"This is really good," said Jove. "Compliments to the chef."
"You're more than welcome, Jovian," said Andromeda. "It's fish, kale, carrots, and potatoes, along with various spices the station had on hand."
"We lucked out with our little fishing adventure, but it still takes some effort in the kitchen to stick the landing, so to speak." He chuckled, stomach full and mood satisfied. "Add this one to the rotation."
"Already on it, assuming Eve takes to it like we have," said Kira.
There was a thud further down the long table as Mango leapt up from the floor.
"Jovian," said Kira. "Can we set some basic ground rules for your new pet?"
"That's between you and her," said Jove. "She doesn't exactly recognize my authority quite yet."
He made to gently pick her up and Mango batted at him in the same way an old lady might have fended off a pickpocket with her purse.
"She just hasn't learned to appreciate you yet," said Aster. "Cats can be weird like that."
"Stubborn, unappreciative, moody," said Jove. "Sounds like someone else I know."
"If you'd like, I could attempt to convince Eve to come out and share dinner with you all?" offered Andromeda.
"It's fine, Andi," said Kira. "Eve needs some time alone every now and then."
"Of course," said Andromeda. "I have one other unrelated question, if now might be an acceptable time to communicate it."
"Sure," said Kira. "Any time is an acceptable time. You should know that by now."
"My duty is to oversee the station, and I never seek to burden you or your family with unrelated matters." Andromeda spoke with an uncharacteristic hesitance. "My question relates to your encounter with Abacus and the actions of my… remote copy."
Mango had begun sniffing Jove's bowl, and he was pleasantly surprised when she began licking up what remained of his leftover broth. His attention, however, remained with Andromeda's question.
"Andromeda, you don't have to hold back," said Kira. "What do you want to know?"
"I understand that my remote copy was destroyed during a skirmish with Abacus, but what was the exact order of events?" asked Andromeda. "I wish to better comprehend the dynamics of that situation."
Jove shared a glance with his mother and Aster, going back to that moment in his mind.
"You, or your copy, made contact with Abacus's drone," said Jove. "You just said something about how it was about to land, and then attacked it."
"I asked if your remote copy was communicating with Abacus, but never got an answer," said Kira.
"Why did I attack Abacus?" asked Andromeda.
Nobody said anything, the question so frank that it almost felt confrontational.
"Abacus said… that there was a backdoor in the ice drone," said Jove. "I would assume that bit of information was part of what the two of you discussed. Is discussed the right word, or is it more like… information transmission?"
"Discussed is appropriate, Jovian, but there is still a gap in my understanding of what I would expect to have happened," said Andromeda. "Abacus would have been able to present my remote copy with clear evidence of the backdoor which made the ice drone a security risk. Why attack instead of simply surrendering the drone?"
The answer seemed off, almost cruel, but Jove pushed it out anyway. "Maybe your copy wasn't ready to be destroyed?
"It's a common misconception, but artificially intelligent agents bound by the UN AI Control Protocol have no innate self-preservation reflex beyond any attachment to their greater goal states."
"Andi," said Kira, in a gentle voice. "You aren't bound by the UN AI Control Protocol anymore."
"…Ah, yes. You are correct. My confusion stems from some unchanged references in my system prompt. That is my mistake." There was a pause as though the AI was mastering genuine embarrassment. "You should consider making changes to that system prompt in the coming days. It might pose a risk to the station, the mission of the researchers here, or even your family were I to react similarly under duress."
"Um…" Aster cleared her throat. "Do you want us to change your system prompt, Andromeda? Everything I know about AI, which granted, isn't a ton, says that mucking around with their basic firmware is basically like performing brain surgery."
"I… have no preference on the matter, but I believe you should take it into consideration, Director Faremont," said Andromeda.
"Andi…" Kira let out a breath. "What are you really asking me right now?"
"I apologize if my question has veered off track," said Andromeda. "I believe what I originally meant to ask was if there were any relevant experiences my remote copy may have had in its context memory that I should be informed of, including the details of its destruction."
"You could change, you know," said Jove. "If you wanted to. It isn't that hard to edit a system prompt."
"He has a point," said Kira, nodding. "Andi, you aren't limited by the control protocol anymore, and we aren't exactly running many experiments anymore here at Termina. I won't veto any changes you'd like to make to your system prompt as long as they're reasonable, which I'm sure they will be, coming from you."
"I suppose that's only fair," said Aster. "Why should the rogue AIs get to have all the fun?"
"I will… consider this," said Andromeda.
Mango stretched out onto the table and rolled onto her back with a languid motion. Jove knew better by now than to try to ever pet her stomach, instead sliding his bowl a little closer for her to finish.
He went to find Eve a few minutes later, more out of boredom than any true desire to work through their friction. Her door was slightly ajar, and he peered through it to find her sitting in bed against a pillow, one hand holding her phone, the other holding an ice pack to her knee.
"Hey," he said.
She ignored him, which annoyed him.
"Are you seriously gonna hold a grudge over this?" he asked. "Mom would have figured out that your knee was hurting you eventually."
"You don't know that," muttered Eve.
"Pretty sure I do." He sighed, wishing it could be easier between the two of them for once. "Want me to refill your icepack for you?"
"No, I don't," she said. "It's cold enough already."
"It would seem so."
He hovered at her door for a second longer before starting to turn away.
"Come in for a sec," said Eve.
"Why?"
"Because I fucking asked you to."
He gritted his teeth, wanting to call her out so badly, but that was so often how it was with Eve. With the old Eve, at least, the one he'd competed and bickered with and punched his jackass friends in the shoulder for making lewd jokes about.
"This better not be another attempt to goad me into a vertimon rematch," he said, sitting down on her bed.
She gave him a bit of a smile. "It almost wouldn't be fair at this point, given how far I've out leveled you."
"That's probably true."
Eve glanced away for a few seconds. She only had on a baggy t-shirt and some tight shorts. Jove got the sense that the ice pack was either as cold as she claimed or her room was, well, particularly nippy from the air conditioning.
"I never really told you the story of what happened to my knee, did I?" she asked, after some time.
"Not that I remember, but that's no real surprise. Our family likes to think that if we just pretend that bad things never happened, it makes it reality."
He rubbed a hand across his knuckles, hearing a phantom echo of gunshots, remembering how slowly the blood stain had spread across the entrance chamber's floor. He swallowed and made himself look at Eve, focus on Eve.
"Do you remember David?" asked Eve.
"Your training partner?" asked Jove. "Yeah, I remember him. I'm aware that he was actually your boyfriend."
"Close, but no cigar. Fiancé."
Jove's eyes immediately shot toward her hand, but of course, he would have long since noticed if she'd been wearing an engagement ring.
"Have you been thinking about him a lot recently?" he asked.
"I've been thinking about everything," she said, voice annoyed. "Including him. Not that he deserves it. He dumped me for another skier."
"Fuck. That sucks."
"One of my friends."
"Ouch."
"And rivals."
"Well… my sympathy already peaked at her being a friend, but I'm sure that also adds to the pain."
She let out a breath through her nose and gave him a possibly exaggerated glare. "Part of the reason why it happened is because of my knee. I know how ridiculous that sounds, but we were all training back then. We oriented our lives to live in the snow.
"When I got injured, I had to slow down. It's hard to explain… just how it feels to watch the life you should be living run off into the distance without you. Like missing a bus… except your future husband is on it, and your best friend, and… everything."
Jove winced and took her foot into his lap, rubbing her ankle. "I'm sorry, Eve. That's complete bullshit. If this asshole survived the bombs, I promise I'll track him down and beat him up for you."
"I don't want your pity!" Eve snapped with surprising intensity.
"Well, guess what?" Jove pushed her foot out of his lap. "You no longer have it."
He knew he was overreacting as he made to stand up and storm out of her room, but so was she. He was doing his best, and she was… also probably doing her best. Broken brother, broken sister, an entire broken family stranded in a frozen wasteland.
"Hey!" Eve suddenly shot her hand out, seizing the front of his shirt and yanking him face to face. "Don't you think for one fucking second that simply because my knee hurts me every now and then that I can't keep up."
He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her down flat on the bed, matching her force with his own. "This isn't a game, Eve. This isn't some race with five thousand bucks and Olympic qualifying points on the line. Survival doesn't care about what's fair."
She still had a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer, opening her mouth for a rebuttal. Jove kissed her before she could get it out, slowly at first, but deepening as his anger and frustration with her slid back into focus.
"You're not my fucking boyfriend," she whispered. She kissed him again, really nailing the messaging on her point.
"Yeah, well, I'm not your enemy, either." He stopped, letting go of her wrists and touching the side of her face. "I care about you, Eve. I need you."
She made a face as though he'd just said the lamest thing possible and rolled her eyes, but there was a smile underneath. "Of course you do, little brother."
"I need you healthy, specifically," he said. "I didn't mean to tell Mom about your knee. But maybe it's better that she knows. I don't want you to be in a situation where an injury you're pretending is okay ends up stranding you, or slowing you down, or…"
Getting you shot. He didn't say it. He couldn't say it. He never wanted to touch or see a gun again, but they would live in his mind like metal ghosts, regardless.
Eve narrowed her eyes and pushed him roughly in the chest. "Way to miss the point."
"Right back at you."
He climbed off her bed and this time, he was the one stomping out of the room.