After powering up the scanner, Dante connected Sparky to the machine via his port, and then keyed in a command. “Let’s see what we have.”
Numbers and symbols streamed across the screen. Dante folded his arms and squinted at the readout. “Hmm…”
Was that a good hmm or a bad hmm? “What do you see?” The coding meant nothing to her.
“Nothing.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Thus far, everything looks operational. No broken code. No malware. His coding is more complex than I thought, though.”
She could have told him that without a scan.
He punched a button on the machine, and the scrolling numbers froze. He reversed it, then halted the stream. “See this coding here—” he pointed to a line of characters. “That’s his voice recognition app. He’s programmed to respond to your vocal frequency and obey your commands.” He fast forwarded and stopped it at another group of numbers. “This is the protection application. Rather sophisticated. If something triggers it, and if his microprocessor analyzes the incoming data—visuals, sounds, words—as a danger to you, he’s programmed to override your voice commands.” He glanced at her. “Basically, he can’t be ordered to not protect you.”
“That’s why he bit you. His programming deemed you as a threat when you grabbed me to keep me from falling. But, Althea didn’t do anything. They’d always gotten along fine. Can you alter his coding so that if he perceives someone as threatening and I order him to stop, he’ll stop?”
“Yes, but I’ll need to find an expanded keyboard. I don’t see one on the cart. There should be one in the lockers, though. Before I do that, let’s power him up and see how he reacts to me now. I’d like to see what programming gets executed. Hang onto his leash, okay? If he tries to bite, switch him off.”
“Okay.” Amanda wrapped the lead around her hand.
“Boot him up.”
She pressed the activation button. His snarl disappeared from the dog’s face.
“Hey, Sparky,” she said.
“Woof. Woof.” He gave a quiet, friendly little bark and wagged his tail. Sparky looked at Dante but showed no aggression.
“Hang onto him,” Dante said.
She tightened her grip on the leash.
“Nice doggie.” He reached out and petted Sparky from head to rump. His tail thumped the table.
“I guess he doesn’t perceive you as a threat this time,” Miranda said.
“Not so far.” He continued to pet him while peering at the screen.
A long, pink silicone tongue slurped out to lick Dante’s hand. It was such a contrast to the way the little robot had been functioning. He was acting normal again. “Maybe the problem fixed itself?” she asked hopefully. “Maybe being powered off did something.”
“Often a reboot does fix the problem. But without an idea of what caused the malfunction, we can’t risk him going berserk. SSO15 can do a more comprehensive diagnostic to find the corrupted code—if there is some—but for now you have two options. We can keep him off until you get him looked at—or I can try to remove the override so he’ll respond to your voice command no matter what.”
“Let’s do that. I’d like to be able to keep him activated.” She paused. “Altering the code won’t change his personality, will it?” People said robots didn’t have personalities – or they were programmed to mimic a temperament, but Sparky was different. No matter what science said, he had a personality.
“I’ll back up his programming. If removing the override changes him, I’ll restore the original settings, and you keep him deactivated until an AI coding expert can work on him.”
“All right. Let’s do it.” She missed Sparky tagging along beside her. She peered up at Dante, her heart fluttering. What a different man he’d turned out to be. He hadn’t made a good first impression, but he’d redeemed himself. He didn’t need to do this. It was unheard of for a captain to adopt this much interest in a passenger’s problem. A man in his position had more important duties than reprogramming a canine bot. Gratitude and an even deeper, more personal emotion swelled inside her.
She touched his arm. “Thank you for helping me,” she said huskily. “It means a lot to me.”
He went rigid, and his eyes seemed to smolder. “I’m happy to help,” he said gruffly and then turned toward the lockers. “Switch him off, and I’ll proceed. Let me get the other equipment I need.”
Could it be his helpfulness indicated a deeper personal interest? There had been moments when the chemistry seemed to sizzle between them. Or was she reading too much into his behavior because she was attracted to him and wished for her feelings to be reciprocated?
She knew one thing for certain: to find out how he really felt she was going to have to make the first move. An officer of his standing and character would not make advances to her. If anything was going to grow from this spark of attraction, she would have to take the lead.
Her heart thudded. Then what? Would a shipboard fling be worth the inevitable heartbreak? In another couple of weeks, she would disembark onto the space station. Dante would carry on as captain of the Crimson Hawk. The odds were good they would never see each other again.
But wasn’t it better to have him for a brief time than live with regrets of what could have been? She’d survived a Tyranian attack when most others had died. Only her wits and Sparky had saved her.
She rounded the table. “Dante, wait—”
By the lockers, he turned.
Butterflies tumbled in her stomach. Before she lost her nerve, she rose up on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. He went rigid—well, more rigid. He was already constructed of hard-packed muscle. His hands closed over her shoulders, and she braced for him to shove her away.
Instead, his arms came around her, and he crushed her against his chest as he plundered her mouth, kissing her with a need seeming to equal her own. The way his heart slammed against his ribs sent hers to pounding. She wrapped her arms around his neck, then felt her feet leave the ground as he lifted her up and continued to kiss her.
When her feet touched the floor again, he leaned his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled. Then he stepped back. He picked up her wrist, kissed her palm, and sighed.
She recognized regret when she heard it. “Don’t say anything…bad,” she begged.
“What would you consider bad?”
“Like we shouldn’t have done that.” Leave me with an untainted memory of one perfect kiss.
“We shouldn’t have. Kissing you was inappropriate, an abuse of my position.”
She winced. Well, she’d guessed what his reaction might be. “I don’t feel abused, and I kissed you first.”
His gaze darkened with conflict and longing. He seemed to be fighting a battle within himself. Then his mouth twisted. “I should resist you, but I can’t.” He pulled her to him again, and she clutched at his uniform shirt while her head spun with happiness. In his arms, she felt like she’d come home.