by Ann Aguirre
That was remarkably in character for any Pherzul and for Aevi in particular. It was a point of pride for the little one; she’d taken a liking to Helix, and she saw it as a personal affront that anyone would attempt to take away what she had claimed.
Pherzuls were utterly territorial and completely callous about everything that didn’t belong to them. An entire world could burn if a Pherzul hadn’t claimed it.
“It might not be that easy,” Carow said, sounding uneasy about the prospect of fighting a legendary bounty hunter.
But Praxys flared his dorsal spikes, as if reacting to the violence of Aevi’s suggestion. Qalu couldn’t recall what the neck frill and back spikes signified, but Praxys smelled a bit different, some hormonal spike hinting at a strong emotional reaction.
“We would need to lay a trap with care,” he said. “Choose our ground wisely. But I think Aevi might be right. Running has proven to be fruitless on seventy-eight different occasions. I’m unsure if any of the targets tried to fight, but I do know I would rather go down hard.”
“I don’t want to die,” Bojak said. “Haven’t managed to get word to my mother yet, assuming she’s alive, but if push comes to shove, I’m good with making this Krag work for it.”
Qalu stared, fascinated by the fact that Bojak had said “mother,” singular, as if he had only one. Imagine that. It wasn’t the time to inquire into human anthropological arrangements, however. Praxys seemed to be taking stock among the rest of the crew. And one by one, they spoke their assent.
“We shouldn’t rush to confront Krag, but I agree,” Maglan said.
“Me as well,” Carow added.
“Excellent. I’ll save my venom,” Aevi announced, lashing her tail in an impressive display of would-be dominance.
Qalu didn’t tell the little one she was every bit as much adorable as she was fearsome. Such opinions were best kept to herself, lest Aevi lose her temper and nip her flesh, resulting in a painful and swollen wound. So far she’d never injected enough poison to do Qalu serious harm. Best not to bait a Pherzul, however.
Praxys made a gesture that seemed to be dismissive. “That’s all. Please take your rest. I need to do a little more research before I decide our next move. Our fuel won’t last forever, but I don’t want to risk stopping until I’m sure we’re clear.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Maglan muttered, and Carow shushed them.
Toth Krag. Ruthless. Relentless.
And we have to kill him. Somehow.
That seemed like an impossible goal. None of the resistance crew appeared to be warriors, unless one counted Aevi. She had a violent bent toward those she disliked, but a bounty hunter must have considerable skill and advanced ordinance.
Don’t be afraid.
Easy to say, not so easy to banish the fearful tones from her mind. Logic also insisted that even if they killed Toth Krag, whoever had posted the bounty would simply repeat the process. No question, Helix had a powerful enemy, but who…and why?
I wish he could remember.
Dealing with Krag was only the first step. At some point, they would have to neutralize the one posting the bounty. Perhaps that would mean more killing. Despair nearly overwhelmed her, warring with exhaustion.
I worked in a lab my whole life. How can I do this? I’ll be no help at all.
Helix stepped into her field of vision, popping the anxiety bubble. “Shall we retire? I would like to bathe and rest.”
She tried to hide her growing sense of inadequacy. “Certainly. We’re both exhausted. Things will doubtless seem brighter once we’ve eaten and slept.”
“There’s nothing I fear with you beside me,” he said. “Not cessation. Not captivity. The greatest harm I could face is being parted from you.”
Her head tendrils fluttered as her insides went liquid. Oh my.
[ 12 ]
Though Helix was no expert in organic relationships, he thought it was strange when Qalu rushed away without responding to his statement. That avoidance filled him with disquiet, but he tried to dismiss the feeling. He’d likely chosen the wrong moment to express his feelings—an understandable error, given that all of this was new to him. There must be some protocol he was unaware of, outlining how such moments ought to unfold.
He made a mental note to do some research and then got distracted by fast, silent data exchanges with Nita, who seemed to enjoy the novelty of his unique interface capabilities. When he noticed how much time had elapsed, Qalu was asleep and he still needed to use the hygiene facilities. Sometimes having a physical form that required so much upkeep was inconvenient. Unlike a mechanical avatar that only needed period cleaning and maintenance, mobile meat platforms seemed to require some manner of service constantly—rest, nutrients, evacuation, stench removal and prevention—and there were probably other essentials he hadn’t discovered yet. The cycle could be tiring. But there were advantages too, experiences that were impossible in a more esoteric state.
Though he wondered if it would be uncomfortable to share the cabin, after Helix washed up, he slept better with Qalu nearby. Aevi spent the night elsewhere and came bounding in to report on her doings. Qalu was already gone, and the unpleasant sensation returned, the same as he’d had when he tried to tell her how important she was. Absently he scratched Aevi’s back and listened to her chatter.
Why does everything feel so wrong? So off-center.
“You’ve eaten?” he asked the little one, though it seemed unlikely she would deny herself sustenance, even amid a flurry of fascinated exploration.
“I did! Bojak let me work the dispenser and showed me how to make whatever I want. Carow asked if that was such a good idea, and Maglan said it was because otherwise, I would never stop asking. And that’s right—I won’t stop asking until the answers make sense or I learn what I want.”
“I admire your persistence,” Helix said.
He had that hollow feeling again, and it was probably hunger. They’d run out of rations as they traveled, and he hadn’t thought about provisions since they left Tiralan. I should feel better after I eat.
“That’s a compliment, yes? Qalu says I should be polite. Thank you! I am persistent.”
“Would you mind showing me where the dispenser is located?” Helix knew, but he’d learned early on that Aevi enjoyed performing tasks that made her feel necessary and helpful.
“Definitely not! It’s this way, let’s go.” Aevi scampered ahead, moving with such eagerness that she circled back twice before they reached their destination.
This space appeared to be a lounge, similar to the one in Zylar’s habitat where the dispenser had been located. Everything was more compressed, of course, with the furnishings all bolted to the floor or wall. The resistance ship was designed for sudden accelerations and sharp maneuvers. He wondered if that meant the crew had significant experience being chased by bounty hunters.
Still getting used to free access of information, Helix pulled for data to retrieve the name of the dish Qalu first offered him on Tiralan—roasted nornroot—and it was available in microseconds. I missed this so much. Instantaneously, he had a full history of the cuisine to peruse as he programmed the dispenser remotely. When the device began preparing his food, Aevi scrambled up to stare between him and the dispenser.
“You didn’t touch it. I had to touch it. That’s not right. That’s not how it works.”
Helix wouldn’t have chosen to share his breakthrough with Aevi first, but the Pherzul wouldn’t stop asking until she had a satisfactory account of why this was possible. First, he had to outline how the connectivity feature was supposed to work in his neural network; Aevi seemed to be with him so far.
“On Tiralan, I was never able to uplink to any of the available databases, but here on the ship, I can.” He hesitated, wondering if he ought to go into the flashes of memory that were coming more frequently. “I’m not entirely sure why, but it could be because of Nita.”
“Who’s Nita?” Aevi asked.
&nb
sp; So the AI hasn’t spoken with the little one.
“Nita is an AI who works with Praxys.” Nita had called herself a companion, much the way he had classified his tenure with Zylar. Sometimes he was unsure whether he was qualified to use the word “friend,” especially as the longer he occupied an organic form, the more he realized there were different considerations.
Some biological beings might say that friendship was impossible if one could not offer a comforting touch. Yet as he understood it, relationships could be conducted over long distance, where touch was also impossible due to geography, so sometimes it seemed to him their definitions were fluid, meant to restrict and exclude. An AI cannot befriend an organic because their goals are fundamentally disparate. Machine intelligence is cold, remote, and meant to serve. The words rang in his head, and he had no idea where they’d come from, but tinnitus followed, leaving him shaken and disoriented.
Aevi tapped on the side of his face. “You’re sick? Does it hurt when you connect to the ship database? Maybe you should stop, at least until you eat.”
A sharp intake of breath pulled his attention to Qalu, who hesitated before entering the lounge fully. The uneasy feeling returned, nothing he could identify or name, but it was as if she were moving farther away from him all the time, leaving without actually going. And he was fully aware of how fallacious that was, but it still felt true.
“If I understood correctly, it sounds like you’ve made friends with another AI and your implant is finally functioning properly. That’s wonderful!” The words sounded suitable, but her body language whispered of sorrow. She must have been listening for a while, enough to put the pieces together, and clearly her conclusions had caused injury.
Helix didn’t know what to ask. Or how.
Clearly, there was something wrong, but if she wanted to discuss her emotional state, would she not express that inclination? Perhaps this was a cue that one who had been born Tiralan would instinctively know how to read. When Aevi dashed over to Qalu to greet her and rub all over her, the moment was lost. Qalu bent and picked up the Pherzul, whispering and nuzzling and then she simply left the lounge, forcing Helix to eat alone.
They were sharing much less space on the ship, yet somehow, he was isolated as he hadn’t been on Tiralan. Some part of him sensed and understood that the pleasing course they had been on had changed trajectory, but this new direction evaded logic. He could not pinpoint the moment things had changed or reduce the number of variables. It could be so many things—leaving her mothers and her home, her work, she might be frightened or regretting her choices. She might be weary from the long hike and dreading the hardships yet to come.
“Is the dispenser malfunctioning?” Nita asked.
“It appears to be working correctly.” Then he realized he was only staring at his meal; therefore, it was a reasonable conjecture that there might be something wrong with it. Helix ate without the enjoyment he’d felt the first time he tasted this. It occurred to him that sensory inputs could be influenced by the company one kept. Intrigued, he put the inquiry to Nita.
“Yes, I believe that’s accurate. Here, I have accounts of biological lifeforms waxing nostalgic about some nutrient packet that evoked some precious memory. The subsequent emotional response enriches the experience.” The AI elaborated at length, quoting essays and journal entries, apparently willing and able to pursue the matter well past what seemed necessary since the question had been answered.
Pedantic. That’s the word. Is that how I was before? Obsessed with data and details. He recalled Zylar stopping him when he was providing information and his own vexation at being interrupted. For hadn’t Zylar wanted a full picture? But it seemed there was some difference in attention span and desire for precision. Looking at it from both sides, he couldn’t say that either was wrong, per se. An interesting disparity, one he might wish to investigate.
First, though, he must speak with Qalu. There was no gain in wondering without being brave enough to inquire. She would surely understand his lack of finesse in these matters. Before, she’d said she would teach him to be Tiralan. But before he could search for her, the ship shuddered and rolled, a sudden deceleration that knocked him into the far wall, his half-finished food spattering everywhere.
Praxys spoke with an urgency that filled Helix with an emotion he easily recognized as fear. I’ve felt this before, on Gravas Station. When I helped the child flee. This emotion was awful, choking and tenacious, threatening to cut off his air.
“Got a tail! Looks like Krag is as good as they say. Strap in or hold on, because this will get worse before it gets better.”
Qalu had no opportunity to examine her wounded feelings.
After the announcement, she hunkered down and held onto Aevi for dear life. She had seen holos of people who enjoyed provoking their adrenal responses, and the rapid spiral whirled her center of gravity until she nearly tumbled headlong. She and the little one were too far from the center of the ship to change locations, so the best she could do was keep them from getting injured. Her forelimbs burned from holding on while Aevi dug her claws into the wall, leaving deep runnels in the metal.
Part of her wished she could see their pursuers, but that was idle curiosity. What could she do if she saw the ship anyway? Everyone else had a role to play, valuable work to do. Me? I’m useless here.
That was a painful realization. She hadn’t wanted to abandon Helix when things got difficult, but now that she’d left her life behind, she intuited how ill-suited she was for such a venture, how she lacked valuable skills outside the lab. Countless moments passed with evasive maneuvers while Qalu tried not to get permanently damaged. At last, the ship put on a burst of speed, popping to hyperspeed if the drag she felt was any indication. Shaken, she stumbled to the hub, still holding Aevi.
As she arrived, Carow was asking, “Who was that? How could Krag have found our trail so fast? It doesn’t even make sense.”
“I believe it’s my fault,” an unfamiliar voice said, an unmistakably synthetic tone.
This must be Nita, the AI that Helix mentioned. The one who helped him fix the issue with his connectivity. And that fast, the hurt pushed to the front of Qalu’s mind. Before they left, she was the most important person to him. He told me everything, scarcely filtering a thought. Back then, he would have told her first. I was also the only friend he had. With effort, she reminded herself that everything was unfolding as she’d hoped. Walking away from his declaration had been for the best. She shouldn’t encourage him to limit his options. He was expanding his social network, just as she had predicted. And she shouldn’t want to change that either. Inatol’s voice murmured in the back of her mind:
Love is not selfish. Love gives us room to grow. When our greedy aspect presents, we must shut it down. Only then can we love others with our whole being.
“Can you clarify?” Praxys asked.
“The identification number on the vessel matches one that has been hunting us for some time, ever since my liberation. It is a coincidence that our paths intersected near Tiralan. Though I have screened considerable correspondence, I have seen no sign that anyone has connected our departure to Toth Krag’s current bounty. We have some time before that occurs.”
Qalu swore silently. It seemed as if she’d panicked and possibly made the situation worse. They’d gotten off planet, but were now traveling with a group being hunted by others. When all the pursuits converged, it would probably be dreadful.
“Did we lose them?” Carow inquired.
“All signs indicate that is the case. I’m obfuscating our ion trail to ensure we don’t bring trouble to Altarion.”
“What’s that?” Qalu asked.
She tried not to flinch when so many strangers stared at her. At heart, she wasn’t an adventurous soul, and she didn’t enjoy meeting new people. That was why she’d spent most of her life in the lab, focused on research. Aevi sensed her nerves and nuzzled against her, making rumbles that were meant to be reassuring.
>
Praxys faced her with a ready candor she appreciated. “Altarion is a settlement allied with us. Some of the droids and AIs that we’ve rescued abide there, although I think it’s too obvious a destination for Helix. We’re known to frequent Altarion, so it will be the first place Krag comes once he makes the connection.”
“We have to refuel somewhere,” Carow said. “And plan for the trap.”
“Lure the hunter to a remote location,” Aevi said. “We should avoid making a mess for others to clean up. When Krag is dead, he becomes food. Not for me,” she added hastily, after receiving a few startled glances. “Pherzuls never touch carrion.”
“Good advice,” Bojak said.
“If a trifle specific and disturbing,” Maglan added.
“Would it be possible to lure multiple pursuers?” Nita asked. “We have wasted much time and expanded many resources simply eluding the ones who hunt me. It seems more efficient if we could eliminate multiple opponents simultaneously, but I am unsure whether that is feasible. The more enemies we face, the more our statistical probability of success diminishes.”
Maglan seemed to be the mediator, and before anyone else could reply, they said, “Let’s get to Altarion. We’ve been living on alert and could use some downtime. Once we’re a bit more rested, we should be able to make better decisions.”
That sounded sensible to Qalu, who didn’t feel comfortable speaking up. Fortunately, the rest of the group did, communicating consensus, and Praxys said, “Nita, set coordinates for Altarion, maximum speed. Our fuel cells will be tapped when we get there, and we can’t afford more complications en route.”
“Understood. Engaging shadow protocol.”
What does that mean?
Qalu’s demeanor must have reflected some curiosity because Bojak said, “It’s not exactly like a cloaking device, but it lets us hide somewhat from ship sensors.”
