Flower-of-Sands_The Extraordinary Adventures of a Female Astronaut

by Grahame R. Smith

  One of the so-called militia, who appeared to be a racial derivative of a Rann blue-skin, stepped forward and struck Edge across the face. Edge lost balance and crumpled to the floor. Flower-of-Sands rushed to his assistance. The one who had attacked Edge, swivelled around, and aimed a vicious blow at her, which, had it landed, would have killed her instantly. The blow missed and the warrior catapulted towards the area occupied by the control panel, as if the incident had suddenly transformed him into a dancer. He recovered and attacked again. If anything, he was even less successful. She brought him down hard on his chest, his face smacking the floor, blood gushing. Two more of the militia attacked. She did very little, just seemed to rock clumsily, like a drunken person. The two warriors smashed into each other and lost footing, one of them sprawling across the chief’s feet.

  The chief, and the woman, who was black leathered with mirror-black skin and blue laser eyes, grabbed Edge and Faithe and held handguns to their foreheads. Unlike Flower-of-Sands, Edge and Faithe knew nothing of fighting or weaponry, and were uncomprehending and confused by everything taking place.

  ‘Stop,’ the chief boomed, addressing Flower-of-Sands. ‘These two will die if you do not stop. I don’t know what you call that outlandish fighting style, woman, but they die now and you will be tortured to death unless you stop. Cease.’

  ‘Let me kill the bitch,’ one of the defeated snarled.

  ‘Later,’ the chief grated – his voice metal on metal. ‘We may need leverage fathoming this shit-hole’s tech. Start stripping the place. Computer? AI, speak.’

  There was no reply.

  The chief turned on Faithe, whom the female warrior was holding, grabbed her by the neck and shook her violently. ‘What’s wrong with the AI?’

  Faithe was unable to speak.

  ‘The AI is damaged,’ Edge risked an intervention. ‘We are on manual control.’

  ‘Where is its main operational centre?’

  Edge did not say that the ship’s AI was non-local, pervading the ship and alive within the floor, ceiling walls, and hull. Instead, he said, ‘It’s there, in the control panel. There are subsidiaries at various points in the ship. As I said, we are down to basic functions.’

  The chief turned to his men. ‘Strip the place. Take everything, including the in-system drive.’ He turned to Edge. ‘Where are the FTL engines?’

  ‘We only have one valve left.’ Flower-of-Sands was risking death by speaking. ‘Please leave us something; please don’t leave us to die out here.’

  The chief looked her full in the face for a few moments, weighing up something indecipherable.

  He turned to his men. ‘Kill her.’

  ‘With pleasure.’ The one who had kissed the floor in his encounter with her drew his weapon and aimed at her. ‘Die, bitch!’ he screamed

  ‘No!’ The Rann-like woman stepped between the avenging male and Flower-of-Sands.

  ‘Out of the way, or die with her,’ the man yelled.

  ‘No!’ The woman stood tall, her posture forbidding. ‘You have forgotten that we are Rann, and it is an age-old tradition of Rann warriors that they do not kill non-combatants.’

  ‘You can live your dream of past Rann greatness. Rann are no longer warriors and we are outlaws. And I say kill the bitch.’

  ‘No! I am here to keep Rann tradition alive, and the protection of non-combatants is a primary law in the Rann code of valour.’

  The man spat onto the floor. ‘I say your tradition is a load of garbage. The bitch is a combatant. Did you see the way she fought?’

  ‘She has fighting skills yes, but that doesn’t make her a combatant.’

  ‘Okay, that is enough.’ The chief declared with authority. ‘Forget the killing of the woman and let’s get to work stripping the place.’

  The avenging warrior gestured rudely to the Rann woman. ‘Why should she make the rules? She is a newcomer to this outfit. What gives her special rights, just because she is your woman?’

  With extraordinary speed, the chief went up to the man and head butted him. The blow was ferocious and the man keeled over.

  ‘I am the one who makes the rules. Now get to work, and secure this pathetic crew.’

  The Rann woman and two others dragged Edge, Faithe, and Flower-of-Sands to a part of the interior bulkhead that was free of holos and piloting screens and secured them to the wall, using magnetic handcuffs. Although, the Rann woman had effectively saved Flower-of-Sands’ life, this did not prevent her from manhandling her and her two friends. Faithe, who had never experienced aggression, was whimpering with pain and fear. Both she and Edge were unable to understand the mindset of their captors.

  ‘These people are probably outlaw-Rann, and they are pirates, raiding unsuspecting ships and stripping them of their fuel, life support, and technology,’ Flower-of-Sands said. ‘Faithe, try not to be scared. They don’t know about Ninthe.’

  ‘Let’s keep it that way.’ Edge shifted uncomfortably. The pirates had tied them to the wall in awkward positions that made getting comfortable impossible.

  More pirates emerged from the tube-way, carrying instruments, computers, and atomic tools, including several types of saws and hover trolleys. Although they were unaware of the non-local character of the ship’s AI, which included Ninthe, they were tech competent and disassembled the central control panel and its subsidiaries with considerable skill. The ship’s crew were aware that similar activity was taking place elsewhere on the ship.

  There was a shudder as if the pirates had detached part of the ship.

  ‘They have detached the FTL and in-system thrusters,’ Edge said ominously. ‘Without those we are stuck here.’

  Faithe was crying and Flower-of-Sands found a way of supporting her back. Her own back was aching badly from the unnatural position her restraints had forced upon her.

  The pirates worked hard and efficiently. After a few hours, they had stripped the ship bare; even the tube-way had gone, and presumably all life support facilities.

  Gradually the number of pirates on the bridge grew less as they boarded shuttles and returned to their mother ship with their plunder. The chief pirate wanted to kill them, but was wary of the presence of the Rann woman.

  ‘Emeka,’ he said roughly. ‘Go to the shuttle. I will clean up here.’

  Emeka went to him and gazed into his face. ‘No, it is not the Rann way. We do not kill innocents. We are not cowards.’

  ‘If they escape they could warn people about us, and then ships would arm themselves.’

  ‘They are unlikely to escape, Garran, and even if they do, killing them is not the Rann way. After you Captain.’

  By now, the pirates had disabled the artificial gravity and stolen its driving components. Edge and his crew were floating off the floor, and loose debris from the pirate’s work at disassembling the ship’s infrastructure was in freefall around the bridge. Already the ship’s temperature was dropping and eventually the air would dry up. Luckily, the Oblique crew were wearing smart skins, invisible to the pirates, which would sustain their lives for a few days beyond that.

  Without looking back, the chief pirate jumped into the shaft which had sustained the tube-way. He had no concern for the fate that awaited his victims. Having decided to let them live, he had happily left them to die slowly of starvation, thirst, and exposure. Emeka did look back, her expression unfathomable, but she reached into a pack on her shoulder and removed a bottle of water, which she tapped towards them. She then pointed a small device at Edge and his restraints partially unlocked.

  Silence, interrupted by sounds of goods shifting about, heralded the pirates’ departure. Flower-of-Sands was apprehensive that one of the crew would come back and finish them off. A long time elapsed. It grew cold and the lights slowly dimmed. The few operational bridge windows revealed nothing but darkness.

  A soft sound in the tube-way shaft alerted them. Their hearts beat madly. Were the pirates still there? Had the chief found an excuse to come back and finish them off
? He had wanted to; they had all wanted to. All except Emeka, the Rann woman.

  She had saved them. Why?

  ‘It’s okay, they have gone.’ They sighed with relief as Ninthe floated towards them. Without standing on ceremony, Ninthe released them from their magnetic restraints. Faithe was crying. Edge and Flower-of-Sands embraced before helping Faithe, who was in shock.

  ‘Let’s get Faithe to the med-centre,’ Edge said.

  ‘There isn’t one,’ Ninthe said. ‘The pirates took everything.’

  ‘Everything?’ Flower-of-Sands asked.

  ‘Nearly,’ Ninthe replied. ‘There are a few things in deep storage that they missed. And I am here.’

  ‘What about the other synthetics? Edge asked.

  ‘I dissolved them into the hull.’

  ‘Is there nothing in the med-bay?’ Edge asked.

  ‘Nothing. Just four walls. They were tech-savvy, despite being barbarians. The only thing they missed was me and the non-local element of the AI system, which amounts to the same thing. I am what is left of the ship’s AI, except that I have extensions in the ship’s hull. They missed several of those, although they would have had no way of utilizing them, anyway.’

  ‘We are lucky they did not space us and just take the ship,’ Faithe murmured.

  ‘Effectively they did,’ Ninthe said. ‘They took the propulsion and FTL infrastructure, which is at least two thirds of the ship. All we have left are the living quarters which are unsuitable for Rann sized thugs.’

  ‘We are lucky they did not destroy us with a missile,’ Edge said.

  ‘Maybe they thought of that but the Rann woman persuaded them otherwise,’ Faithe said.

  ‘Or they left us to die slowly out of cruelty?’ Flower-of-Sands said.

  ‘That,’ Ninthe said, ‘is the most likely explanation. The so-called captain would consider us a waste of ammo.’

  ‘How long to we have?’ Faithe asked as she orientated her body to the lack of artificial gravity?

  ‘Two, possibly three weeks. I can utilize the hull extensions. Also, there is some food and water in deep storage between the living quarters and the kitchen.’

  ‘Has all the fuel gone?’ Edge asked.

  ‘Yes, also the pirates confiscated the escape pods. Effectively, they marooned us in space. I could, at a stretch, and if we knew where we were going, create a makeshift drive from my hull extensions. There is also a mini-escape-pod designed to eject information concerning a mishap in deep space which they missed. I could release that …’

  ‘Then you must,’ Flower-of-Sands said.

  ‘It could take many years for someone to recover it. But, I could utilize the mini-pods thrusters. I could make us fly for a short distance, if we had somewhere to go.’

  ‘We are inside an outer system’s asteroid belt,’ Edge said. ‘There may be a planetoids or dwarf planets nearby, somewhere where we could land.’ Edge looked out of a window. ‘Maybe this has happened to others. Maybe we are not so alone after all.’

  ‘That is rather fanciful, Edge,’ Flower-of-Sands said.

  ‘Not so fanciful as you may think,’ Ninthe replied for Edge. ‘Emergence from FTL or hyperspace tends to occur in certain areas of space-time. The pirates will know this and hover around these areas. This may have happened to others. There may be others adrift in space or on a moon relatively near to us. Whether that would help us or them is another matter.’

  ‘Can you scan for such an event?’ Faithe asked.

  ‘I will and I am. Now you must rest. I will find food. It will be rather basic as most of it will be in a primordial state. The pirates destroyed the “food of choice” converter, so it will be bland and extremely strange.’

  ‘Balanced?’ Faithe asked.

  ‘I can’t promise, but I will do my best,’ Ninthe said dryly. ‘Meanwhile, to your bunks. Your skins will keep you warm and I can generate some heat from my subsidiaries.’

  They slouched into the sleeping quarters and flung themselves onto a bunk. In shock from the sudden loss of their technology, cut off from humankind, having barely escaped death, and facing death shortly, they needed to lie close together, absorbing each other’s warmth, finding comfort in closeness. Any thought of lovemaking was as distant as the system’s primary. Flower-of-Sands did harbour surprising feelings for the AI extension, Ninthe, but she was keeping that to herself.

  They woke after many hours and made their way slowly to the kitchenette. The pirates had removed tables, chairs, screens, holo-platforms, and other items of comfort. Ninthe had managed to activate several shelves on which she had placed water and various lumps of protein and compressed vegetables. The crew munched the tasteless food and gulped down the water.

  Ninthe walked in, looking a little drab; no doubt, she was conserving energy. She suggested they move to the sleeping quarters as there they could sit more comfortably.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ve found a signal. Very, very faint. It’s near, about 966,000 km away. I have already converted some of my extensions to an improvised drive – very primitive I am afraid. We need to move slowly to conserve energy, in case we find more marooned people and can link technologies with a view to escaping.’

  ‘What are the chances of that?’ Edge ran fingers over his unshaven face. ‘Won’t it be just nothing shared with nothing? Shouldn’t we try moving in system?’

  ‘As you well know, Edge, we would never make it. The distances are too vast. Our chances are very small, even on the asteroid, but there is a signal coming from it, and we may find minerals which we can use to create a stronger drive.’

  ‘Is that not grasping at illusions?’ Edge was persisting with realism. ‘Are you not simply trying to keep our spirits up, as you are programmed to do?’

  Ninthe gave a very human sigh. ‘The chances are less than small, but they exist, and we may be able to create more. My job is to keep you alive, and that I will for as long as possible.’

  ‘How long will it take to get to this planetoid?’ Edge asked.

  ‘About five Liberty days, give or take. I have set up a trajectory. Landing will be rough, difficult, but I can manage.’

  ‘And we have no pressure suits? Just confirm that, please.’ Edge said.

  ‘That is correct. When we land, you should put your skins in survival mode. I can recycle the air in the ship for a limited time.’ Ninthe was silent for a long time and then began to cry. ‘I’m sorry; it is not a lot, but it is the best I can do. I may be an artificial person, but I do have feelings, and I want to save you, so very, very much.’

  Flower-of-Sands went over to Ninthe and put an arm around her shoulders and was surprised at how welcoming those shoulders felt. ‘We know you do, and we are so grateful to you. We are just scared.’

  ‘What sort of people would leave other humans to die like this in deep, remote space?’ Faithe asked rhetorically.

  Flower-of-Sands looked at her knowingly and sighed. ‘They are called criminals, my dear, criminals.’

  Chapter 14

  She lay in near darkness gazing up at the blank space where her information screen would have been. The only piece of good fortune in this otherwise desolate situation was that the pirates had not taken the bedding. Obviously, this was no act of mercy, but simply that they could see no use for them, size being the main reason. The pirates were Rann, or Rann related, and were immensely tall.

  She was not happy. The whole thing was her fault, not that anyone was blaming her. Edge and Faithe had become close, which apparently, they did periodically, but they were kind and smiling towards her. Nevertheless, she blamed herself. Her persistent wilfulness had led them to this dilemma. Her obsession with the Shiloramedel intergalactic drives had caused the disappearance of the drives, the disappearance of Astral-La, and put Faithe and Edge in harm’s way.

  The ship was nearly five days into the journey to the planetoid. She had seen read-outs of the place: a small moon that had somehow escaped from a mini system. It had no breathable atmosphe
re and was in deep cold. There were mountains, valleys, and stretches of peculiar terrain. It was grey, bleak, and inhospitable, yet a signal came from it, and they were going to it out of desperation.

  Edge and Faithe were sleeping together, even although they were old friends since childhood. Only mildly jealous, her thoughts turned to Ninthe. Her light-hearted feelings of attraction to her were turning into a continuous ache, and she kept remembering the feel of Ninthe’s shoulders a few ‘days’ ago – what a thing to occupy herself with out here in a remote asteroid belt.

  Normally, she slept with men, although Astral-La had a strange effect on her. As a student, she had changed her orientation for a year or two and enjoyed three full relationships with other girls. When she graduated, she changed back to her default sexual orientation, but a substrate of her student years had remained, and she felt her attraction to Ninthe increasingly powerfully to the point of becoming unbearable.

  Eventually, she could stand it no longer. Detaching herself from her bunk, she floated up to the bridge where Ninthe was sitting on the floor plugged in to an area previously occupied by the confiscated control panel. Her drabness had disappeared and she looked fresh, clean, and very appealing, and Flower-of-Sands found herself trembling with need.

  Ninthe looked up briefly. ‘Hi Sands, what can I do for you?’

  Flower-of-Sands floated over beside Ninthe and lowered herself to the floor, where her suit made a magnetic connection, ensuring reasonable security from floating away. She didn’t know how to approach sex with an AI so she plunged in.

  ‘Ninthe, I was wondering … um, well, it’s a bit embarrassing, but I was wondering if I could speak with you about something.’

  Ninthe said nothing and Flower-of-Sands remained silent until embarrassment overwhelmed her ‘It’s okay, Ninthe. It can wait. I’ll come back later.’

  She made as if to detach herself from the floor.

  ‘You want me to sleep with you.’ Ninthe did not look up, her eyes fixed on a small holo between her hands. A pleasant fragrance seemed to come from her.