All of it virtual, but oh, so beautiful. Bipit gave herself a moment to take in Marfid's rich, textured VR. Powered, of course, by the inheritance of energy Marfid had gained by cannibalizing his predecessor, their former leader, Glaze.

The VR was nothing like the murk and muck of the frozen surface, where Bipit's real body crouched, locked up tight against the cold. From that surface, Gliese 581 was no more than a dim red star.

Here, bathed in delicious red and purple light, Bipit could almost imagine it was ninety years ago and she flew in the bright skies of Earth, seeking out enemies, taking joy as she cleared them off the map.

Bipit adopted a thoughtful, humble pose, crossing two of her four bionic arms, her energy weapons fully and completely sheathed.

Marfid was both attentive and easily offended. In theory, he didn't know where her body was on the planet. In theory, few of the one-hundred seventy-two intelligent armaments knew where the others were. They had gone through a lot of trouble to go dark and stay that way. Of those who hadn’t, many were gone now, eaten for parts and energy.

But who knew? Maybe Marfid had Bipit mapped to the centimeter.

"Bio-form?" Bipit asked of the blue dot. "Human?"

"Ship energy signature says yes."

No one--biological or artificial--had come to Gliese 581k since the armaments had arrived eighty-nine years ago.

"How did it get past Sentinel?"

The exile treaty included Sentinel, whose exact capability and location remained unknown, but who, the treaty stipulated, was made of every up-to-date destructive form of weapon available, tucked away in its asteroid-like body.

All fall-out of the Final War. After Humanity had become thoroughly aghast at itself, it had turned the weapons on the other weapons. Under Glaze's leadership, one-hundred-ninety-six General AI armaments banded together, and in the name of peace threatened to lay waste to the bios if a better arrangement could not be achieved.

And so the treaty was negotiated. It included Gliese 581k, sequestration, and Sentinel. Any armament that could gather enough juice to get off-world wouldn't survive beyond Sentinel. Anyone coming near the planet would be stopped. The treaty wasn’t ideal, but it was better than being turned to slag.

"Maybe it's a compliance test," Marfid said. "Make it go away.”

Bipit tilted her panoramic sensor array to convey a confused expression. Play dumb, but not too dumb. Gather intel.

"Destroy it, you mean?" Bipit asked, knowing he didn't.

Unlike the hardened GAI-armaments that now called this cold planet home, bio-capable ships were designed merely to keep soft, squishy bio-forms from smashing and dying. If a bio-ship landed in the deep freeze of this energy-sucking planet, it would be hard-pressed to get aloft again.

"The treaty says no killing,” Marfid replied, his voice a grinding growl. “You signed it. Remember? A dead sentient means human attention. Send it home. You understand, little idiot?"

What did Marfid's name stand for, anyway? Bipit’s records said it was Multi-Adaptive Robotic Force with Integrated Defense. Perhaps it ought to be Meandering Apparatus Radiating Fragile Inner Delusions.

At least he was slightly social. Most of the armaments stayed silent. What did communication matter if you sat exiled on a frigid planet, powering down every part of yourself you could so you could survive? They were just machines; they could wait forever.

But for what? For Humanity to decide to destroy them?

Sentinel might have that capacity. The warwrought armaments were heavily hardened, but nothing was immune to everything. As time passed, the GAIs wondered: why hadn't Humanity slagged them to ash? Why leave them alive?

Bipit debated her reply. Originally a defensive planetary guardian, Marfid had been modified during the war and was now ruthless and unpleasant. After he'd eaten Glaze, he had become the undisputed whatever he might want to be called.

"King," as it turned out. "Big GAI," if he seemed particularly friendly that day.

"Yes, king," Bipit replied.

"And be quick about it," Marfid said.

That was why he'd called Bipit: she was one of the dozen armaments that still had orbital capacity. He knew her specs: energy-optimized, fast and nimble, with advanced cognitive linguistic capacity.

Clearly he guessed that she still had the juice in reserve to go orbital.

And that was true. Barely. But for her to say yes would make him certain. If she were going to stay low-profile, now was the time to give an excuse.

She looked around at the beautiful VR with its delicious color and light. It would be nice to come back.

Bipit missed Glaze. Glaze had been pleasant, chatty, good at negotiating with humans and armaments. When Marfid had dismembered and consumed Glaze for parts and joules, Marfid had distributed a recording of the event planet-wide as a warning.

Now Marfid was the undisputed leader. Bipit ought to get his favorable attention while the getting was good.

Their conversation had been silicon-fast. The blue dot in the holographic display had hardly moved.

"Yes, king."

With a pang of what humans might call regret at having to leave this splendid place, Bipit broke the connection.