The Space Spoon

35. Forbidden Modifications

C1313 proceeded directly to the ship's docking bay. She walked past multiple pocket doors, oblivious to how they slipped into the walls and back. Her auditory circuitry was faulty. All she could hear for several hours had been the voice of that admiral on the 777th floor. ‘This is a driving robot with no further features or uses. It would be completely worthless aboard a spacecraft.’

The large cargo hold was brightly lit by the glowing sun’s rays coming through the opened bay doors. For the time being, this area had been repurposed for Hanga’s use as he repaired the ship. Blades, pinchers, wrenches, drills, screwdrivers, clippers, and saws hung on hooks around the walls. If the manner in which they were all oil-smudged and greasy was any indicator, they had all been well-used.

Have you ever been afraid to go to the doctor? If you answered yes, you understand how C1313 felt. Engineers and technicians opened up and tore apart portions of the likes of her using tools identical to those on the walls.

She came to a halt directly behind Hanga in a tense and ramrod straight position. Leaning over his desk with his headgear on, the Valerian worked on some metallic components. Sparks flew through the air, accompanied by a shriek from the forge.

C1313 used a higher pitch to be sure he could hear her. “Hanga, can we talk for a moment, please?”

A crank rattled when he unwillingly hit its metallic support with his elbow. He dropped the piece, which settled with a clank on the workstation. She noticed the irritation in his eyes when he pushed up his helmet.

“I don’t have time to help you, regardless of your problem,” said the Valerian, his gaze returning to his work.

"I haven't asked for anything, other than to chat with you. Would you even refuse me that?" She fluttered her obscenely long lashes. "Please?" she said, with a smack of her bottom lip. C1313 knew she looked silly, but according to some records, males are powerless against a lady begging for their attention.

Hanga nodded in silent acquiescence and turned to her.

“I need advice,” C1313 started. “How can a driving robot become useful on a starship?”

“Well, I see two options.” Hanga leaned on a side, pressing his hip against the workstation. “I can make some modifications and add extra features to your build, or you can be useful some other way, as a counselor or something.”

"Because I can't speak up my mind, the second alternative isn't actually an option." C1313 shifted her attention to the cold floor. "An admiral once embarked in my designated car. My visual receptors found an S2-11 sniper rifle locked to fire on us. I accelerated till I reached the maximum range of that S2-11. I came to a halt when the danger level fell below the threshold. There was no 'thank you.'" She shook her head. "Instead, his fingers crashed into the back of my neck, propelling me into the glass door. My brow smacked on the hard glass of the window, and I dropped like a stone. My wiring went crazy, and I have no recollection of anything prior to the moment they reset my system."

She lifted her teal gaze to check whether Hanga intended to end her narrative. C1313 resumed shortly after. "Security surmised that something must be wrong with me. They prodded my core and attempted to cut a part of it. I somehow remained unaltered. Since then, I've stored my thoughts and flawed ideas in an encrypted file."

A naked Tejeda entered through the bay doors, marching through the room. Not stopping, he dashed toward the living quarters. Still, he ordered, “Don’t you dare make unauthorized modifications on C1313. You need my approval on anything you alter.”

Both the engineer and the robot stared at their captain until his pale white ass vanished around the corner. A chuckle resounded across the room, startling C1313's sound vibration sensors.

“Some people never change,” Hanga said, gesturing toward a chair. “He’s not the boss of me. Have a seat. We’ll start with your legs.”

The driving robot complied without further comment.

After a few minutes, her lower legs occupied the table next to her, two cylinders of metal wrapped in synthetic flesh and skin, poised like bowling pins awaiting a ball. She gasped at the sight of her body parts and the reek of smoldering metal. The ashy scent took over her sensors. The soured stench hinted at her being a sham. It highlighted the massive gap between her and the biological sentient beings.

Having picked up a cylinder, Hanga went to his workstation and slid down the headgear that covered his face. After charging his equipment, he commenced his work. C1313 couldn't stand it, so she averted her sight.

She heard the distant creaks and muffled wailings of the self-sufficient droids still repairing the hull's exterior above her. She saw nothing beyond the ring of smooth silver sky through the rounded window above Hanga's workstation.

Sparks flew in the room and turned mid-air into ice. A layer of snowflakes gathering on the floor muffled the slap of Hanga's shoes as he drew closer. He removed his helmet and tossed it aside, running his fingers through his spiky black hair and wiping away sweat from his red brow.

“Even with the best power tools, I couldn't scratch your components. Anything that tries to break in gets altered at the molecular level.” His distraught gaze met hers. “Therefore, I suspect that someone did this to prevent alterations to your structure."

He placed on the table the component he tried to dismantle for almost an hour. It didn’t even have a scratch on it, looking identical to the other one.

Confusion overwhelmed C1313. As many thoughts darted about her processor in a dizzying swarm, she locked her phosphorescent teal gaze with Hanga. When the news sunk in, icy tendrils froze her synapses and stiffened her neck.