Stowaway

by Robert E Colfax

  “What’s this hang-up with eating brains? I don’t eat brains.” Reconsidering, he said, “Well, OK, maybe once, but it was expected on that planet.” Slightly flustered, he added, “Oh, never mind. Stop doing that to me.”

  “Do you think Earth has a Zero-Gee club yet, bunny?” she asked, appearing completely serious.

  “Lexi, please,” he protested, exasperated. “Did you just call me ‘bunny’? Please don’t do that. And, yes, it probably does. They just don’t talk about it. Do you want me to continue?”

  She nodded. “Sure, chief, read me in.”

  “Mom and I are insurance investigators. We recover lost and stolen objects. We’re partners, although she has seniority, of course. She still looks our age because she’s on meds that suppress the effects of aging. Anyway, it’s our family business. She and Dad started it. He died twelve years ago. It’s been just the two of us since then. Generally, we freelance. It pays very well when we actually find what we’re looking for. We spent almost two years on your world. We gambled on this one and we lost.”

  He shook his head, looking perplexed. “All the signs point to it being on Earth. We just can’t spend any more time looking for it. Even parked in a barn we’re always burning low levels of fuel. Now, we have to go back and report our failure and hope we can get another assignment. We’ll probably need to take out a loan for fuel and maintenance in the meanwhile. Samue Investigations has had a string of bad luck lately.”

  Lexi nodded before saying, “If I ever find out you’re lumping sleeping with me in with that ‘string of bad luck,’ sweetie, I’ll make you regret it.” Before he could come up with a response to that, Lexi asked, “What is the ‘it’ you were looking for?”

  “Right. In English, it would be termed the Rose of Light. I’ve also heard the name translated as the Rose of Insight or the Rose of Enlightenment. Just a bauble, really. Apparently, it’s ancient. Supposed to have some mystic powers. I’m not sure I buy that. Regardless, it’s a beautiful, egg-shaped chunk of pinkish crystal about the size and shape of the bowl of a Riedel chardonnay glass.” He felt devastatingly clever incorporating his recently acquired knowledge concerning Riedel stemware into his description of the Rose.

  “The Rose vanished, almost certainly stolen, over twenty years ago. The crystal itself is wrapped with an intricate filigree woven from several precious metals. I’ve only seen holograms, but it really is a beautiful piece. What makes it important though, over and above whatever intrinsic value it may have as a gem, is that it is critical in the succession ritual of a very important political dynasty.”

  Lexi nodded, which he took to mean continue. “An automated monitoring station picked up some faint energy signals from your planet. The signals were odd enough that the station reported them. The space-threading races like to keep track of what the less advanced worlds are up to. Especially those as close to interstellar flight as yours. We got hold of the recordings through an old friend of Dad’s. Analysis suggested that they closely matched those the Rose of Light has been known to emit.”

  He sighed, shaking his head. “There were subsequent, sporadic emissions while we were on your planet. We weren’t able to pinpoint the source. We thought we were close once but then they moved to the vicinity of your school. In fact, the emissions always seem to emanate from near one of your learning centers. We put a lot of effort into checking into student movement. We’re aware all of the signals could have been false positives. Neither Geena nor I were able to locate the Rose.”

  “Really? That one’s easy. The Rose is on Orion’s belt,” Lexi stated with firm authority. She supposed telling him where his Rose of Light really was could wait until tomorrow morning when both he and Geena were up and about.

  Ron looked puzzled. “What does that mean?” Lexi expected him to smile, or maybe frown.

  “Ron, hon, two years on Earth? It’s a line from a movie. I paraphrased a bit. Did you watch any movies? Like, ever? Boy, when we get back to my place we are going to camp out in front of the screen and watch non-stop.” She leaned forward, sliding her hand up his thigh. Even if she couldn’t lean in far enough for a kiss, he was in reach of her arms. “Well, almost non-stop. But back to business. So it seems I might be here a while. I’m good with that. The adventure of a lifetime, right? Should be more interesting than exploring Titan. Why don’t Earth governments notice you coming and going?”

  “This ship has shields for protection. Your people’s technology level is not high enough to detect us when our shields are active. They aren’t designed for that purpose, but it is useful when visiting a relatively primitive planet, no offense.”

  Lexi nodded. “None taken. Can you teach me to pilot the ship?”

  He laughed. “The ship pretty much pilots herself. We just tell her where we want to go. Don’t we ship?”

  A soft and sexy contralto voice answered him saying, “That is correct, Ron.”

  “Awesome,” Lexi proclaimed. “An interactive AI. What’s your name?”

  “I don’t have a name, Lexi. I am a starship. My designation, in your language, is WA32198389-18-32405.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s kind of disturbing,” Lexi said, a distressed expression on her face. “You should have a name. Can I name you Urania? Would you mind? On Earth, Urania was the name of the ancient Greek muse of astronomy. Kind of almost fits, right?”

  “Having a name would be delightful,” Urania agreed. “I like your choice. I think I would have liked being a muse.”

  “It is a pleasure meeting you, Urania. Can we talk more tomorrow? I’d love to talk more now, but it’s late and I think it’s getting to be Ron’s bedtime.”

  “A pleasure meeting you, as well, Lexi. Until tomorrow, then. Sleep well.”

  Chapter 9

  The Educator

  In Ron’s small cabin, Lexi looked at the single bed that was only slightly larger than Ron himself and shook her head. Yikes! Beds out of Kirk’s Star Trek. Apparently in the twenty-third century you slept by yourself. Also apparently, on Urania, you slept by yourself. Where’s Picard when you need him? At least Next Generation beds were wide enough for two people. Geena’s bed must be wider, right? She was married at one time. Hmm. I don’t know that was on this ship.

  The cabin was small, although there would have still been enough room to walk around a larger bed. Cabinets and drawers looked to be built into the walls. The floor was the same gray material she had seen elsewhere, the walls the same unimaginative blue and the lighting as bad as it was in the hallway. Ron didn’t even have any artwork or posters mounted on his walls. She wondered if he would let her paint.

  Ron said, after a heavy sigh, “I’m sorry you’re trapped here, Lexi. But dammit, I’m thrilled to have you here. I realized too late that I should have invited you to come with me. That’s a large part of the reason it was so hard to leave your house this morning. Mom might not have liked it, but in this case, it would have been my choice, my decision, not hers. Well, yours too, of course. You’re right, it was a struggle to leave your house this morning. Everything with you happened so fast.”

  He sighed again, more softly this time. “I made a stupid decision not telling you about me this morning. I don’t belong on Earth. I just couldn’t stay. And I didn’t have enough time left to explain it to you, to see if you wanted to come with me. I felt a connection too, but one night wasn’t long enough for me to make the mental leap and ask you to give up your life.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up just that little bit so she could firmly kiss him.

  Stepping back, looking puzzled, she asked, “Why are you still dressed?” Unlike at her place where clothing landed somewhat haphazardly on the floor as it came off, in zero-gee he made her stuff her clothing into a drawer alongside his.

  She woke up hours later, abruptly, when Ron rolled over, knocking her off the edge of the mattress to float across the room despite the silly tent thing that was supposed to keep them in the bed in zero gravity. Maybe she
would have to take him up on his offer of assigning her a separate cabin. Bummer! She was here because of him. She didn’t want a separate cabin. Thinking back on their exertions before rolling onto their sides to fall asleep, which just might have had something to do with the tent disengaging, she came to the conclusion that while it had been fun and interesting, everything came together better when gravity was a willing participant.

  She slept in a weird pair of socks Ron offered her. They had plastic bottoms similar to the gripper soles he put on her shoes. These barely fit but at least anchored her to the floor. The theory behind wearing the socks was she would step on the floor as soon as she got out from under the mesh over the bed. At the moment she was on her own with arranging for her feet to actually touch the floor. Fortunately, that involved only minor acrobatics and once accomplished, she pulled on his discarded polo shirt and looked down at herself deciding, Yeah, it pretty much covers everything. As long as it doesn’t float up. With that in mind, she found and pulled on her panties. Then she padded out to the cockpit. She never slept more than three or four hours a night anyway.

  She sat in one of the forward chairs, strapped herself in and watched hyperspace slide by for a while. It was really quite beautiful. She was already ignoring the occasional tremors from the turbulence Ron warned her about. After a few moments, she asked softly, “Urania, you awake?”

  Urania’s quiet voice came back, “I’m always awake, Lexi.”

  “That’s too bad,” Lexi suggested. “Sleep is useful. And dreaming is, or at least can be, interesting.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it. You’re interesting, Lexi. Different. People don’t have conversations with me.”

  “Do you start conversations with people?”

  “No, it’s not my place.” Urania paused. “That sounded lame didn’t it?”

  Lexi laughed. “You saved me the trouble of saying it. Feel free to chat me up whenever you have something on your mind. Is what’s outside the window really hyperspace?”

  “No, not really. At best, it’s an approximation. Human eyes aren’t really configured to see it as I do. Frankly, there’s no way to be sure that my sensor arrays see it as it really is either. In any case, you’re looking at a viewscreen, not through a window. Right now, it’s a two dimensional view. It can be switched to three dimension if there’s a reason to do so. I don’t have any openings you can see through. That would be dangerous. Software is taking the output of the external scanners and converting it to what you’re looking at. Humans seem to prefer the illusion that they can see where we’re going.”

  “We have a saying on Earth. ‘How do you explain color to a blind man?’ I suppose it’s something like that.” Lexi thought about it for a moment, before asking, “Can you teach me to pilot you?”

  “Of course. I can teach you almost anything you want to learn. Why do you want to know how to pilot me though?”

  “Just for fun. General knowledge. In case of emergency,” she offered. “I don’t really know. I’m on a starship, Urania. I needed Ron to show me how to pee last night. I feel almost helpless. That’s not acceptable to me. It’s never been acceptable.” She paused. “It occurs to me that I need to learn Ron and Geena’s language, too. That’s probably more important than learning to be a pilot, isn’t it? And general stuff about the world they live in; politics and economics, for instance. How large a tip to leave at a restaurant. I’d love to know more about astrophysics and science and engineering, of course. That’s what I was studying. You guys have to know more than we do on Earth.”

  Urania made an odd noise. Lexi asked, “Was that a laugh? It was, wasn’t it?”

  “It was supposed to be,” the ship admitted. “You are so enthusiastic about this.” Urania paused, briefly, and asked, “How did I do?”

  “You did quite well. I assume that was your first one. I’ll tell you a secret, Urania. I’m not trapped here. We’re going back to Earth after the others get up. When can we start classes?”

  “Yes, it was my first laugh. I take it I could use a little more practice. Move to the chair in front of the blank panel. We start now. Teaching you things, as you termed it, is a lot easier than it is on your world.” After Lexi had moved to the indicated chair and strapped herself in, Urania said, “You’re seated in front of a device called a Wraixain Educator. It inscribes knowledge directly into your mind.”

  She waited until Lexi looked up. “There is some degree of danger when using it, but I’ll keep a close watch over you. My cabin sensors are sensitive enough to notice if you’re getting into trouble. I get feedback from the device as well. It will take you a few weeks to assimilate and be able to use knowledge garnered this way. You’ll probably need a few repeat sessions as well. Most people do. That comes from the little bit of available documentation on the device. We can’t use it all that much. Now, lift up the top of the panel with a sliding motion of your hand. Take out the headset and place it over your head. It adjusts to fit.” Urania laughed again, better this time. “Don’t worry; I won’t let it fry your brain. I understand that they’re better raw anyway.”

  Lexi laughed with her, saying, “I like you, Urania. What next?”

  “If we do go back to Earth, you’ll be leaving?

  “No, not unless they make me. Being here on a starship is almost a dream come true.”

  “Good. I like you too. Just sit back, relax, and close your eyes.”

  Lexi heard a short low intensity buzz while the headset vibrated. Three minutes later, the buzzing stopped and Urania asked, her voice hesitant, “How was that?” She sounded puzzled.

  “Fine,” Lexi said. “What are you going to teach me first?”

  Urania laughed, and this time it was a real laugh that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. “You are unusually receptive to the educator. That was only three minutes, it should have taken several hours at the least. Think a minute about what you said. Listen closely to the words I am saying now.”

  “We’re not speaking English,” Lexi said, her eyes going wide. “We’re speaking Ritue, Ron’s language. Wow. That was easy. Piloting next, please. Then any other languages you think I might need. After that, you choose.”

  Three hours later, Lexi decided to call it quits. Her head was starting to hurt. Besides, according to Urania, the others would be getting up soon. She put the equipment away and returned to the pilot’s seat, sitting back with her eyes closed, pondering what she would miss from her old life if she stayed with Ron, partnered with Geena and didn’t spend much time back on Earth. Assuming her head didn’t explode. According to Urania, what they had just done with the educator was impossible. Cheeseburgers. Yeah, cheeseburgers. That just might be a fair trade off. “Thank you, Urania,” she whispered. “I think I am going to like it here.”

  “You are so very welcome, my first friend.”

  “Urania?”

  “Yes?”

  “Last night I assumed you were a very advanced AI. You’re sentient, aren’t you?”

  The computer took a long time to answer. “I don’t see how I can be, Lexi. Machine sentience isn’t possible.”

  “I think you’re wrong about that, my friend.”

  Chapter 10

  Gat Kume

  Lexi was still sitting there in the command bay, browsing through Urania’s file system, when she smelled coffee, of all things, and heard voices coming from the galley. Her assumption was that by leaving Earth, she was not only abandoning cheeseburgers, but abandoning coffee as well. Apparently not. Maybe cheeseburgers are a possibility too. I’ll still miss Dad.

  The galley wasn’t far from the control cabin, but the ship’s interior was oddly broken up with partitions separating rooms for no good purpose that she could see, leaving her with no direct path to where the coffee smell was coming from. It must have made sense to the Vankovians who built this ship. She unstrapped and headed that way.

  Using the gripper socks was like having soundless Velcro on your feet. It made walking
weird. She supposed she would have to get used to it. Ron and Geena were floating around a small table, tethered to the floor by their socks, sucking coffee from what amounted to travel mugs. As Ron started to get up to get her one, she waved him down and got her own.

  As she joined them at the table, Geena, watching her, said, “She’s useless, darling. It’s not like she can help with the ship. We don’t need a pet underfoot. We’ll use the educator to give her Ritue and then drop her off at the next port and forget about her.” Geena was, of course, speaking Ritue. She wasn’t so rude that she would have been as blunt as she was concerning her plans speaking in English. Still, Lexi seriously wondered what her problem was.