Trak then detonated the spike mines he had thrown to the floor.
Microscopic fragments of weaponized obsidian shot outward from each device. The spikes could burrow through armored battalions, but in this hallway they merely bounced off the walls, unable to penetrate any surface.
It's nice to feel harmless, Trak thought.
He knew his creator wouldn’t like him using his weapons on nonliving targets.
Of course, I don’t like it, said the dark part of himself.
But Trak’s creator was long dead.
Maybe. Maybe not, said the voice of his creator said.
Be quiet, Trak ordered the voice. Let me have my fun.
It’s not fun if there’s no bodycount.
BE QUIET, Trak commanded.
With his 360 degree field of vision, he watched the fire, the acid, and the spikes mingle together like long-lost friends.
Friends, Trak thought.
“Tour Guide, show me my friend’s vitals again.”
“They are fine,” the voice said.
“Prove it,” he said.
“Your suspicions are misplaced, especially since you volunteered to work here. At some point you are going to have to trust Containment Facility One Staff.”
“I did not volunteer. I have no reason to trust you. Show me them now.”
The Tour Guide relayed the current biosigs of Daniel and Rachel-7 again. Trak's internal biolock verified the information. They were both healthy … though it would take some time for Trak to get used to the idea of Rachel-7 as a human.
Trak didn’t laugh often, but he’d laughed when the Tour Guide had showed him Rachel-7's new body.