Murray arrived in the clinic room, lugging his portable microwave relay and a computer link-up interface. He set the equipment down with a grunt, brushing off his hands. "I understand we have a visitor," he said, eyeing the floating metallic sphere that was ADAM.

  "And a talkative one at that," Russell replied, crossing his arms. He turned back to ADAM. "Before I leave you with Murray and his kit, I have a few more questions. Let’s start with this—what star do the Sphere Builders originate from?"

  "Your designation is Alpha Lyrae," ADAM responded, his synthetic voice unwavering. "In layman’s terms, the name is Vega."

  Murray let out a low whistle. "Just as you thought, Russ. A blue-white with more reds and blues nearby."

  Russ nodded, thoughtful. "That much followed if the green was outside their visual spectrum."

  ADAM's form pulsed briefly as if emphasizing his next words. "I was monitoring the sphere’s inhabitants during your attack, Captain Carlin. Your ship and its beams were invisible to them. Only your mass projectiles were perceivable."

  Russ’s brow furrowed. "You're sure about that, ADAM?"

  "Positive, Captain," ADAM confirmed. "You saw them flee from your assault."

  Russ let out a frustrated breath. "I was tricked into fighting an empty husk, from my viewpoint."

  "Yes," ADAM agreed. "Their shift took you by surprise."

  Russ straightened, narrowing his eyes. "Excuse me, ADAM, but what exactly is their ‘shift’?"

  "When they realized you could harm the core ship, they shifted into your past to avoid you," ADAM explained.

  Russ inhaled sharply. "And back into the present near Mars?"

  "Precisely."

  Murray glanced between them, eyes widening. "Hold on a damn second—are we talking about time travel?"

  Russ turned away for a moment, processing the implications. When he spoke again, his voice was tight with frustration. "Of all the injustices so far, this is the worst. The enemy has time travel and a light drive." He exhaled sharply. "Anything else?"

  ADAM hesitated, then spoke in a measured tone. "Your agitation is understandable, Captain, but your conclusions are incorrect. Their drive is actually slower than yours. Only by shifting temporally do they appear to command superior speed. When my creators first encountered the enemy, they also believed them capable of trans-light speed. The truth is far more deceptive."

  Russ’s expression hardened. "Explain."

  ADAM’s voice remained patient but firm. "They can barely achieve six-hundredths of light speed. However, some time before they enter a system, they shift into the past and then proceed forward at their normal pace. This makes it seem as though they have arrived instantaneously at trans-light speeds."

  Russ shook his head. "The results are the same. What’s the difference?"

  "The difference, Captain," ADAM said, "is that you can follow them."

  Russ blinked, his frustration giving way to a flicker of intrigue. "I’d sure like to know how."

  "I know how," ADAM stated simply.

  Russ huffed a short laugh, more out of exasperation than amusement. "That doesn’t reassure me much, ADAM. Your creators had temporal displacement and they still lost."

  "No, Captain," ADAM corrected, his voice carrying an almost human-like intensity. "By the time I was able to tap into the enemy’s computer records, my creators were already defeated. But I modified myself."

  That caught both men’s attention. Murray frowned. "You—modified yourself? How?"

  "By integrating their temporal displacement technology into my systems," ADAM explained. "I needed their time-shift ability to remain undetected within the sphere, and to follow them. Now, I can offer that same advantage to you."

  Russ felt a stirring of possibility beneath his skepticism. "Can this ship be modified, ADAM?"

  "Any metal-hulled vessel is adaptable to the system, Captain," ADAM assured him.

  Russ took a slow breath. "Then why modify yourself? You were already inside the sphere."

  "True," ADAM conceded. "But I could not hide indefinitely. Eventually, I would have been discovered. Now, however, I can not only evade them—I can help you fight them. With the information I extracted from their data banks, and your ship’s invisibility, the next engagement will be different."

  Russ exchanged a look with Murray, who gave a slow nod. "Sounds like a hell of an upgrade, Captain."

  Russ straightened. "Murray, get everything recorded and transmitted to Earth. Delay should be slight—we're over halfway there by now."

  "On it," Murray said, already adjusting the relay setup.

  Russ turned back to ADAM, something close to admiration creeping into his voice. "ADAM, I want you to give Murray and our computer every scrap of information you’ve collected about the enemy. And I want to know exactly how your creators were imprisoned aboard the sphere."

  If the little machine had arms, Russ swore it would have been trembling with anticipation. "I cannot comply quickly enough, Captain," ADAM said. "After four hundred and sixty-two of your years, I will once again be able to execute my primary function."

  Murray chuckled. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were excited." He finished connecting the voice pickup to the interface when ADAM suddenly floated over his shoulder.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Does your computer require sound transmissions to receive data input?" ADAM inquired.

  Murray sat back, scratching his head. "No, but—" he gestured to the equipment, "—can you interface with the system directly? Circuit to circuit, I mean."

  ADAM floated back slightly, his metallic shell reflecting the dim light of the clinic room. Then, in a moment of almost comical innocence, he asked, "What, Technician Murray, is a circuit?"

  Murray blinked, then let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, buddy… we’re gonna have a long night."

  Russ allowed himself a small smile before his expression sobered. The battle ahead was going to be unlike anything humanity had ever faced—but for the first time, they had a fighting chance.

  “Oh, brother,” Murray stifled a guffaw. “Do we have a technology gap here. ADAM,” he asked, “what’s inside you? What makes up your physical self? Your hardware, your memory banks, your working parts?”

  ADAM lifted slightly from the g-bed. “I am constructed of artificially grown, living crystalline cells, identical in nearly every way to the brain cells of my creators' race. My external shell is a perfect sphere, four and five-tenths centimeters thick, composed of an adamantium and titanium-alloyed steel containing no impurities. The inner surface of the shell serves to collect, process, and recycle the wastes produced by my cells, returning them for reuse to sustain me. The shell draws energy from light, heat, vibration, or radiation with an efficiency of ninety-six point nine percent. This collected energy is used for movement, warmth, cooling, recycling, and communication. Since my modification, an outer layer—one point eight centimeters in thickness—has been added, composed of the sphere’s pure nickel-iron alloy. This layer contains the temporal displacement lattice, absorbing and conducting all ambient energy to the inner layer while storing excess energy for later use.”

  Murray blinked. “Uh-huh. And I thought my toaster was complicated.” He rubbed his temples. “Alright, the way you’re describing the metals in your shell… you use them as superconductors, ADAM. When these materials are properly slathered with silicates and ions—”

  “Slated,” ADAM corrected.

  “That too,” Murray waved him off. “Anyway, arranged in exact patterns by electromagnetic influence, in a liquid state, then solidified in that pattern, they become superconductive materials, containing huge volumes of free electrons. The atoms are so polarized that electron expressways are formed throughout the matrix.”

  “The pattern of my matrix,” ADAM continued, “is an expanded copy of the brain synapses of my creator, Denebian scientist Rath Logam. He pioneered cybernetic science on Hathlon, Deneb Five—my original planet. He built the first artificial intelligence machines. I was his thirty-ninth project and success—an artificial war correspondent assigned to observe and report on the progress of the war with the Shapers and to preserve the history of the Denebian race, including the war. As you must plainly realize, Murray, transmitting all my accumulated data—if limited only to the war—would take an alarming amount of time.”

  “How much time, ADAM?” Murray asked weakly, already dreading the answer.

  “At the fastest rate your recording devices can maintain reproduction… two and seven-tenths years.”

  “Balls of fire,” Murray groaned. “Mars is waiting for help now! Is that the best you can do? Wait a minute,” he suddenly brightened. “How did you say you tapped into the enemy’s computer records?”

  “I read their computer’s thoughts. Its makeup was cruder but somewhat similar to my own and lacked a protective vessel.”

  Murray perked up. “Wait, wait, wait—so the Shapers’ computer is a living machine like you?”

  “It is alive, but not a machine, Murray,” ADAM corrected. “It was grown by the Shapers’ scientists to perform the functions of astrogation, maneuver, deployment, repair, life support, armament, supply, and evaluation. The Shapers reserve flight, battle, and exploration functions for themselves.”

  “So they keep all the glamour jobs, huh?” Murray snorted.

  “Quite so. They consider the functions of their computer as menial chores best left to animals,” ADAM replied.

  Murray stopped short. “Hold up. So it’s an animal?”

  “No, Murray. It is the hypertrophied brain of one of their species, removed from its body and altered to function only on a subconscious level. It initiates no thoughts itself, but obeys all commands given to it.”

  Murray’s face went pale. His stomach twisted. “That’s… horrific. Ghastly. Inhuman,” he sputtered, nearly gagging. “How could an intelligent race do… that?” He swallowed hard, holding his gorge down through sheer willpower.

  “From their records, it was one of many ways they utilized undesirable individuals in their society,” ADAM said matter-of-factly.

  Murray’s stomach threatened rebellion. “You mean criminals, ADAM?”

  “No, Murray. What humans consider criminal would not impress them. Their definition of ‘undesirable’ includes the strong-willed who refuse to conform, the weak-bodied who cannot labor for their masters, and the weak-spirited, too gentle to join in the traditional pastimes of the Shapers. The computer aboard this sphere was consigned to its fate early on, Murray. It had a birth defect—it was blind. Actually, it believes it made a bargain with its masters. It lost its limbs and body, but now it ‘sees’ the stars and planets by sensors linked to the optic nerves and travels through space obeying its orders like a trained dog.”

  Murray ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Monstrous! Evil!” He shook his head, then, in an attempt to break the heavy tension, added, “I mean, come on, ADAM—if I ever start doing stuff like that, I give you full permission to fry my circuits and toss me into the nearest black hole.”

  ADAM’s lights flickered as he processed the statement. “Understood. If you engage in unethical bioengineering practices akin to the Shapers, I will initiate immediate termination protocols and ensure your remains are disposed of in the most gravitationally efficient manner.”

  Murray blinked. “Uh… ADAM, buddy, that was a joke.”

  ADAM paused. “Clarify. You do not wish to be destroyed and ejected into a black hole?”

  Murray sputtered. “No! No, I do not wish to be destroyed and ejected into a black hole! That was sarcasm! A little ‘ha-ha’ to lighten the mood!”

  ADAM’s lights flickered again. “Acknowledged. I will recalibrate my parameters to better detect non-literal statements.” A pause. “However, your previous joke contained no such parameters. It appears humor has varying structures.”

  Murray sighed, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, it’s a little more complicated than just defining irony. But hey, you’re catching on. Slowly.” He shot ADAM a smirk. “Just, uh… maybe don’t take everything I say as a binding contract, alright?”

  ADAM’s response was immediate. “Acknowledged. No immediate termination of Murray unless explicitly authorized.”

  Murray groaned. “I don’t like how you phrased that.”

  ADAM processed Murray’s emotional outburst. “I detect elevated vocal intensity, increased heart rate, and heightened neural activity consistent with distress.”

  Murray groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, that’s because it is distressing, ADAM. You don’t just rip someone’s brain out and turn them into a glorified space GPS.” He huffed. “Listen, buddy, you’ve got a lot of facts, but you’re missing some context. For instance, what I just said? That’s called a joke.”

  ADAM’s lights flickered. “Define ‘joke.’”

  Murray grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. A joke is a statement meant to amuse, often using irony, absurdity, or exaggeration.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “For example: ‘Two atoms walk into a bar. One says, ‘I think I lost an electron.’ The other asks, ‘Are you positive?’”

  ADAM processed. “That is scientifically accurate.”

  Murray’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, but it’s supposed to be funny.”

  ADAM’s lights flickered again. “The humor is derived from a play on words. The phrase ‘are you positive’ contains a double meaning, referring both to emotional certainty and electrical charge.”

  Murray whooped. “Hey! You got it! You might be a big metal coconut, but you’re learning!”

  ADAM remained still for a moment. Then, in perfect deadpan, he said, “A neutron walks into a bar and asks the price of a drink. The bartender says, ‘For you? No charge.’”

  Murray froze. Then, slowly, his face split into a grin. “Oh-ho! Now you’re getting it! Not bad for a rookie.”

  “I am adapting to the concept,” ADAM admitted. “Do all human conversations include humor?”

  Murray clapped him on the side. “The best ones do, my friend. The best ones do.”