They put me down five miles outside the range of Lordun’s sensors.
“I feel ill,” Sweeper said. “Something is messing with my neurocircuits.”
Stuck in the middle of the desert with a bomb in my chest and a robot with mental problems.
“I’m just setting up logic pathways to improve your processing abilities,” Jiana’s voice humphed in disgust. “Why do you keep undoing the changes?”
I’d heard of it happening, of course, never thought it would be a curse I’d suffer. Sometimes the assimilated person’s mind attempts a neuro-takeover of the host AI. This split personality would make Sweeper dangerous and unreliable until the conflict was resolved.
Something that neither of us had time for. Maius had set the timer within the bombs to three days. If we hadn’t returned to her with the device by then both Sweeper and I would be nothing more than atomized dust.
“What’s this thing we’re looking for?” I asked Jiana.
“It’s special,” she said. “I’ll tell you when you find it.”