by Eric Warren
“Very good, Former Commander,” she replied, turning to her right with the practiced motion of someone who had run military drills. “You didn’t speak out of turn a second time. It seems you can learn after all. You may answer the question.”
“I have to have permission…to answer a question you’ve asked me? Isn’t an answer implied within the question itself?” he asked.
“Not if you’re dealing with the Rummstäd.” She walked to the front of the room and around the large desk, stepping up on something behind it so she was visible over the edge. She placed the stick in the middle of the empty desk.
“Am I dealing with the Rummstäd?” Cas asked, attempting to duplicate the inflection the woman had used.
She sighed, drawing her brows together. “No, I am Val. I’m surprised you didn’t know. They told me you were well versed in other cultures, but I see I have my work cut out for me.”
Cas approached slowly. “You’ll have to forgive me, it’s been a long time since I’ve met one of your people. And they weren’t the…friendliest of people.”
“That’s a diplomatic way of saying we’re hermits,” she announced. For all intents and purposes she appeared human, just more diminutive in stature. Sturdier, like a piece of unbreakable stone. “You’ve never paid a visit to Valus, have you?”
He shook his head.
“I might have figured. Do yourself a favor, take the time to visit sometime. You might be surprised if you’re willing to open your eyes to another culture.”
“I’ve visited plenty of worlds,” Cas said, still rubbing his hand. “I think I’m well versed in cultures ranging from both inside and out of the Coalition.”
She picked up the stick again and smacked it hard against the table, producing the audible sound of a whip as it hits bare skin. “That is what we are here to find out!” she announced. “Now. I am Negotiator Xerxes Laska. I have negotiated over four hundred treaties in the past seventy years and am single-handedly credited with saving billions of lives. However, they have told me only you can negotiate with the Sil, so I am to impart my knowledge on to you. I hope you are a quick study because we will need you to absorb seventy years’ worth of experience in only thirty days.”
Seventy years? The woman didn’t look a day over forty. Maybe time worked differently on Valus. “Pleasure to meet you,” Cas said, doing his best to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and failing miserably.
“I know,” she said, looking down on him across the bridge of her nose. “I do not need to hear your qualifications or your experience. I have already extensively studied your records and have concluded you are a poor choice to make this contact. However, since I am only a negotiator and not an admiral we will be abiding by their orders. Are you prepared?”
“Prepared for what?” he asked.
SMACK!
Cas withdrew his hand again, seething while sucking in air through his teeth. “To learn!” she snapped.
***
Box stared at the door to their quarters. Six days. Six days of the exact same thing: waiting. Waiting for what? For the ship to explode? For Cas to finally give him permission to leave their quarters? Neither was very likely at the moment.
True to his word Cas had found them better accommodations; this room was much more the size he assumed humans were accustomed to. Box had spent the first day moping after Cas told him he shouldn’t leave their quarters until things had calmed down. Evie had filled out a quick evaluation on him without even asking him any questions and sent it off to the admiral before they departed, ensuring Box could remain onboard, but she apparently agreed with Cas it was better if Box laid low for a while. Tensions about Cas being on the ship were high, and for some reason Box had to suffer right along with him. Death by association, he supposed. Over the next three days Box appeared not to have moved an inch in protest, not speaking or responding to anyone when he was addressed. At first it had annoyed the hell out of Cas as intended, but he’d seemed to have become used to it, even commenting the silence was a nice change of pace for once.
Except Cas didn’t know what Box did when he was gone. He was off with some negotiator for at least three hours out of the day and now he also had a bridge shift he had to show up to which gave Box a lot of spare time. And despite having years’ worth of net dramas to watch, they’d lost their luster. Without the comfort of the Excuse he needed more. So far Box had managed to explore twelve percent of the ship on his own without tripping any alarms or arousing any suspicion. He treated it as a challenge, much like he had when he’d been piloting the Excuse. If something looked challenging it made him want to do it more, like sliding the ship into a spot that had less than a centimeter clearance on either side. He chuckled; Cas had hated that.
Two open doorways down the shower stopped and Cas appeared in the opening a moment later, drawing Box from his thoughts. “That woman is a menace!” he yelled. “Look at this! Look at my hands!” He shoved the backs of his hands toward Box. Red marks covered all of his skin, inflamed from the hot shower. “I have got to figure out how to get that stick away from her, this can’t be legal!”
“Why don’t you haggle it away from her? Aren’t you supposed to be becoming a master negotiator?” Box’s voice was devoid of emotion. He’d tried the silent treatment which hadn’t worked. Now he’d moved on to the emotionless machine treatment. Perhaps that would annoy Cas enough to formally lift his temporary “imprisonment”.
“Maybe she needs to lighten up.” He headed back to the bathroom. “I’ve never met anyone who is so…strict regarding the rules. And let me tell you there are a lot of rules. Rules like you wouldn’t believe.” He returned to Box. “Did you know, when you’re in the presence of the Husmus-riza you are supposed to pass gas as a sign of respect?”
Box was intrigued and couldn’t help a bit of curiosity prompting his response. “Are you finding that helpful in preparation for negotiations with the Sil?” he asked.
“No!” Cas roared, oblivious to the fact Box had shown the first emotion in days. “Nothing has helped so far. It’s because no one knows anything about the Sil except how destructive their weapons are. The net result of all these ‘classes’,” (he used the air quotes) “serves no purpose other than to keep me busy and out of everyone’s way on this ship. How much trouble can I get into when I can barely use my hands? It’s a conspiracy,” he said.
“Like our quarters situation?” Box asked.
“Yes! Evie told me she is sure Page was the one who assigned us the closet, but she doesn’t have any direct evidence. Which I should have guessed, had I known he was good enough to break into the requisitions database and change our assignments.”
“Or find someone else who hates you as much as he does. It’s much simpler,” Box replied.
“I don’t know,” Cas said, dropping his arms. He returned to the bathroom, taking off his towel as he did and giving Box a perfect view of his ass. Box was about to make a remark but refrained. He had to remember: emotionless machine. That’s how the people on this ship wanted to treat him so that’s how he would act.
“I’m off to the ursanomium mines again,” Cas announced after a few moments, having slipped on a clean set of clothes and boots. A Coalition uniform had been delivered to their quarters two days prior when Box had just returned from a jaunt—a lucky coincidence he’d been inside when the delivery arrived otherwise they would have no doubt asked Cas why he’d scheduled a delivery when no one was inside. But that uniform had remained untouched ever since, hanging in the back of the closet. Box wasn’t about to open that can of wasps, but instead admired Cas for not conforming to what was expected of him.
Box made no motion to indicate he’d heard Cas other than raising his right hand ten centimeters before lowering it again.
“Have fun…uh…doing whatever it is you’re doing today,” Cas added. “I’ll talk to Evie again after I’m done with my bridge shift to see if she thinks it’s okay for you to move around the ship again.”
> Box couldn’t help but feel some guilt at his deception. But he wasn’t about to tell Cas now, not when he still had eighty-eight percent of the ship to explore. Some areas would be much more challenging than others, but he welcomed the risk. “Thank you,” was all he said in that same, emotionless tone.
Cas stood in the doorway, staring at him a moment longer than made Box comfortable then he turned, and the doors slipped closed. Box stood, walking over to the closet holding the uniform. He stared at it long enough until he was sure Cas would be far enough away not to spot him leaving the room. Box turned and walked right out the door.
13
The halls were quiet this morning; it seemed most people were on duty. Box hadn’t experienced a full week on the ship yet so some of the schedules were still foreign to him, but he had plenty of time to learn. According to the most recent estimates they were a good twenty-five days from Sil space. And twenty-five days was an eternity for exploration. Though he was still figuring out how he’d get into the weapons lab. He’d be noticed there, or any sensitive area of the ship really, but he was determined to see all of it. Box’d known the Reasonable Excuse inside and out and hoped to form a similar bond with Tempest.
Perhaps today would be a good day to visit Engineering. During their last mission, Cas had spoken of the Claxian stationed onboard who worked down there, which was what helped Tempest generate its tremendous speed. Yes, that was something Box would like to see for himself, despite the risk. The weapons lab could wait, perhaps on the return trip.
Box took the hypervator down seven more levels to fourteen, stepping out into another empty hallway. His luck held. A few times he’d had to make up some excuse about running an errand for someone or having programmed in the wrong coordinates for his destination. Usually no one paid him any mind, though a few regarded him with skepticism. He’d filed their names for later.
As he moved to turn the corner he caught the movement of someone down the hall to his left, speaking in a loud and jovial manner. He pulled back, shuffling across the intersection into the far side while listening to the voice grow closer.
“—sn’t a big deal. I told Greene I’d be happy to pilot but he didn’t want to lose one of his best.” Box recognized that voice. It was Ronde, no doubt bragging about his piloting skills. Maybe if he’d challenged Box to a flying competition instead of trying to best him with a logic test he might have learned something. As it was, Box didn’t want Ronde to catch him down here. The Lieutenant would know something was wrong immediately and report him.
“He didn’t say that? Did he? You’re embellishing,” the other voice—female—said. Box didn’t recognize her from his copy of the crew manifest.
“He might have hinted at it. I’m just telling you what I heard.” Ronde chuckled. Box took off down the hall, his metal feet loud against the floor panels. He couldn’t stay out here, Ronde would find him for sure. Box turned to the right and entered the first door that opened for him.
Inside was a large room full of beds, equipment, and people moving all about. He’d accidentally entered sickbay. One of the nurses glanced up, did a double-take, then returned to her duties, apparently sure robots couldn’t need any services they would provide. Box couldn’t stay here; someone would report him for sure. As he turned to leave someone came up beside him.
“May I help you?” a new voice asked.
Box turned to find himself face to face with the ship’s doctor, Xax. “I believe I am lost,” Box replied in his monotone, doing his best to conceal his panic.
“You’re Mr. Robeaux’s artificial life form, correct?” Xax asked.
Box had to do everything he could to tamp down his fury. “Yes,” he said in the same monotone.
“I was told you are more than most other machines. You have—what the humans call—a soul? Would you say that’s accurate?”
Conflicted, he remained silent. How was he supposed to respond? Yes, I’m an autonomous being. Cut me open and study me, please? Or No, I am like everyone else. Nothing special at all. The tension of it was killing him.
“I am…just a machine,” he eventually said.
Xax stared at him through six black eyes positioned in two columns running down Xax’s face, each with an aquamarine center that could rival even the most beautiful of galaxies. “I don’t believe that is true,” she whispered, “but if it’s what you want to believe who am I to tell you any different?”
Box regarded the doctor, unsure of what to make of the Yax-Inax. He’d met a few before in the Sargan Commonwealth, though they were usually trading information or working off a debt. Poor souls who—like Cas—had been ejected or otherwise found themselves outside the protection of the Coalition. The one thing all Yax-Inax had in common though, was that they had complex mating structures; a prospect that had only increased Box’s fascination with biological reproduction. This might be his one chance to learn more from an actual source instead of second-hand knowledge from the ship’s library or even worse…hearsay.
“Would you like a tour of our facility?” Xax offered. “Perhaps it will add to your knowledge base in a significant or meaningful way.”
“Uhh…” Box stammered, unsure why the doctor was being so accommodating. “Yes, please.”
Xax’s small mouth stretched into a smile.
“I understand Yax-Inax do not have genders,” Box said. “At least not binary ones.”
“This is true. My species has developed, over many thousands of years, the ability to reproduce with one or many partners. Any of the involved parties can carry the child or children and in some cases each member of the bonded unit will carry a fetus to term. However, I realize being on a Coalition ship filled with species that are binary, this is out of the norm. If you need to refer to me, it is easiest to use she pronouns.”
“Thank you,” Box said, losing even more of the monotone. He was already fascinated by Xax and only wanted to know more. It was as if he had stumbled on a gold mine, not to mention with a tour he could check off all of sickbay on his exploration chart.
“Follow me this way,” Xax said, her long, slender body moving through the space effortlessly. “Here we have the examination beds and tables for minor injuries.” Along the wall were twelve different tables that could fold into a chair or flat into a bed if necessary. “All of our scanning equipment is the best in the Coalition. I made sure of that when I came aboard as chief medical officer.”
Xax led Box to another section while the nurses moved around them, paying neither of them any attention. “And here we have the surgical bay. My team and I can perform up to seven surgical procedures at once if necessary. And on a starship you never know what you will need to repair. I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of scrapes and bruises, if you’ll pardon the term.”
“I have been injured in the past,” Box replied, thinking of the time he and Cas had to chase down a Sargan defector who happened to be an excellent bomb maker. Box had lost half his appendages that day, though Cas had him back up and working in perfect order not more than sixty hours later.
“Despite the fact it doesn’t technically fall under the prevue of medical science, I have also studied a fair bit of mechanics to tend to your or any of the drones’ needs, should the occasion arrive.” She leaned in close. “Personally, I don’t always trust the engineers to get it right.” Three of her eyes winked at once.
Box blinked rapidly, staring at the doctor in disbelief. “You…studied for me?”
Xax smiled and lifted two of her four arms up as if to say “it was no trouble”. “Yax-Inax are curious and we can retain great volumes of information,” she said. “I figured I had some extra space in my head so why not? You are a member of the crew after all.”
“That’s debatable,” Box said, losing any last remnants of camouflage. Perhaps Xax was someone he could trust after all.
“Not to me.” She turned to continue the tour. “Back here we have our morgue.” Xax pointed to the far wall in the adjacent room. �
��Which has remained mostly empty so far. Thankfully. It means my team and I are doing our jobs.”
Box had a flash of memory of the ensign on the bridge who’d been impaled by a large piece of the bulkhead that had buckled in their battle with the Sargans. He didn’t want to bring it up to Xax, but an image of the ensign’s slack face kept replaying in his mind. Her dead, empty eyes staring into space.
“And here is our science division where we research, cultivate and study new and interesting ways to help people.” Xax held one of her arms out to the people in the next room. It was stark white, and each member of the staff wore dust-repellent garments. A low-level force barrier separated the clean room from the rest of sickbay. “And finally, we have our disease storage unit. In here we keep over five hundred-thousand diseases from three hundred different planets.”
Box, despite not being able to catch a biological virus, stepped back. “Why would you keep those?”
“Because most often the best cure for a disease is the mutation of a similar disease. Most Coalition ships don’t have a collection this large but that’s because many of these are from my personal stores. It never hurts to be prepared.”
“And what happens if one of those containers breaks?” Box asked, staring at the wall of vials.
“The system locks down and incinerates the vial at over five thousand kelvins. In the unlikely event the entire set is in danger it will all be destroyed. Which would be such a shame.”
Box, intrigued, leaned in closer. “I never knew Coalition ships had these on board.”
“It isn’t a secret,” Xax said. “But it’s also not common knowledge. Most people don’t want to know about it. But as long as the captain knows, we’re fine. We’re not violating any Coalition laws here. And I have to admit I really hope this encounter with the Sil goes well. I’m hoping to add some Sil diseases to my collection.” She turned back to Box. “Your friend, Caspian. He’s the one who is supposed to make contact?”
