"The military spares no expense," CT says, about half-sarcastic. It's both true and not—the UNSC and ONI have spent countless credits on experimental programs and technology, but supporting the colonies and people it has martial rule over is another matter. "At least, they don't in the art of active warfare."

CT stretches, languid and loose, then pulls herself up to her feet. She adjusts her winter coat, flipping up the hood and casting her face back into darkness where the light was catching it moments before.

"Sounds like in my universe she'd be classed as a Dumb AI—pre-programmed, designed for a set purpose they don't deviate from come hell or high water. Smart AI can learn. Make choices of their own. Mostly they obey orders, but..." she shrugs, and there's an odd feeling behind the thin smile on her lips, cast in shadow. "When you can think for yourself, obeying orders is just as much a choice as disobeying them."

She doesn't elaborate. She steps towards the train doors, expecting Ripley won't be far behind.