Gavin

The remote sat in the commander’s chair gazing at the main screen.  The status bars increased steadily as the crew from Duckett’s Landing loaded the supplies.  It had been easy to access the military databank and find the code clearance for a highly placed Admiral.  After that, duping the ground controller had been cake.  He had enough fuel cells loaded now to last months, but he wasn’t sure where he was going after this, and wanted to make sure he had enough supplies to last.

Gavin’s priority was getting what was left of his physical body – if there was anything left - separated from the aircraft.  Problem was, he wasn’t sure if there was anyone outside of the military that could accomplish the feat.  Gavin wasn’t even sure how he’d come to be the Praetorian’s brain.  He remembered working on the AI that should have gone into the plane.  He remembered programming all the remotes and all the interfaces so the AI could operate the plane.  But there was a huge spanning chasm between those memories, and him waking up inside the Praetorian.  Sub-computers, evidently slaved to his conscious, fed him all sorts of random information when he woke up.  Like what time he was installed, how many times he was brought online, how many systems he controlled and their varied statuses.  Nothing really answering the burning question “How the hell’d I get here?”  Gavin knew several geniuses on the Military’s payroll that could have put him in the plane.  They were useless to him.  If there was anyone else, where would he look for them?

A beep pulled him from the reverie.  The Remote trembled slightly mimicking his mental response.  Radar was picking up several incoming blips.  They were far out, but were closing in fast.  There was a single blip out in front of three groups of other blips.  Gavin didn’t really need to guess who the singular blip was.  He sighed; the Remote let out a slight hiss.  He’d have to leave sooner than planned. 

The Remote started to hover and zoomed to somewhere.