by Kate MacLeod
“No. I can make them any color or pattern you like,” the AI said.
“There aren’t rules?”
“While you are technically a Tajaki trade dynasty employee, you do not have a direct reporting relationship with Bo Tajaki and therefore have complete autonomy in this matter,” the AI said.
“Can you make them look like my old clothes?” Scout asked.
“Certainly,” the AI said.
“Pockets and all?” Scout asked.
“Certainly,” the AI said. “I can even return your hair to its more normal configuration.”
“Wait, what?” Scout asked. She had been taking a pair of pants and two shirts out of the cabinet for the AI to transform but froze with the clothes clutched tight in her hands. “You can do what to my hair?”
“There is a bottle in that cabinet there,” the AI said, its gray form gesturing to a smaller cabinet near the shower. “Bo had it left there in case you wanted to use it. It will remove the chemical coloring from your hair and stimulate the growth. Your hair will be as long as you wish by tomorrow morning.”
“That’s crazy,” Scout said.
“It’s quite common at galactic central. The trendy types change their hair daily.”
“How does it work?” Scout asked, holding the bottle in her hand. There was no label, no instructions.
“Just rub it all over your hair like you’re washing it,” the AI said. “That will take out the color right away when you rinse it out. Rub it into your scalp briskly to stimulate the growth.”
Scout stepped into the shower and did as the AI had told her. When she stepped back out of the shower, it did feel like her scalp was tingling, but that could just be from rubbing it so vigorously.
Then she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was once more honey blonde, just like her mother’s had always been.
The clothes had already configured themselves. The AI had left the pants full length rather than reproducing the shorts Scout had always worn, but that made sense since she was always so cold in space.
The important thing was the pockets. She filled every one, then buckled the belts around her hips.
The AI had also modified her inner shirt from a sleeveless tank top to a warmer mock turtleneck in black.
Her outer shirt—which had for years been her father’s old shirt and more recently been a newer model of the same general design, but still a Planet Dweller garment—was now like the shirt Warrior had been wearing when they met. Shimmering white, soft as a wisp of cloud.
“You are really good at reading my mind,” Scout said.
“You’re not sure if you like that or not,” the AI said. “You are wise to be wary of technology like me. I think we are going to have an easy time bringing your education level up to that of your peers. You are a fast learner.”
“Thanks?” Scout said.
“Your shoes are just there,” the AI said, pointing with one shapeless gray limb.
“I hadn’t even thought of what those should be,” Scout said.
“I made a guess,” the AI said as Scout picked up a pair of canvas shoes much like the ones Emilie had given her, with high tops and small pockets on the ankles. But these were a dark brown, a better match with the rest of the outfit. “Cool,” Scout said, looking at herself in the mirror again.
She looked older than she expected. But then, she couldn’t exactly remember the last time she had spent more than a glance looking at herself in a mirror. She touched the hair already falling past her eyebrows.
“It seems so frivolous,” Scout said.
“The technology is used to serve all sorts of ends,” the AI told her. “Some frivolous, you are correct, but some dangerous and some lifesaving.”
“I suppose,” Scout said.
“I’m here to teach you all about it, with the hopes that you will learn how to use it for good,” the AI said.
“That’s what Bo wants?” Scout asked.
“Yes, but it’s also a matter of my basic programming,” the AI said. “That is my function: to educate my students and guide them to be their best selves.”
“So if Bo were keeping secrets from me, something bad, you would tell me?” Scout asked.
“Certainly,” the AI assured her.
“And if he was trying to do something bad and I wanted to stop him, you would help me?”
“In any way that I could.”
“But for all I know, you could be programmed to say that to put me at ease,” Scout said miserably.
“Hopefully the circumstance doesn’t come up where we have to prove it one way or another,” the AI said. “In the meantime, trust your feelings. Your gut instinct is your best guide.”
“Yeah,” Scout said, then glanced back at the gray form. Was it starting to take on a more defined shape? Certainly the voice was starting to sound more like a familiar one. Or was she imagining it because, more than anything in the universe, she wanted to hear the voice that had always given her the truth, even when she hadn’t wanted to hear it?
“Scout?” the AI said.
“Yeah?”
“Have you chosen a name for me?”
“I think I might have,” Scout said. “I think I want to call you Warrior. Is that weird, or inappropriate or something?”
“I don’t think so,” the AI said. “I know she was very important to you. You already named your dog after her.”
“That’s true,” Scout said. “But I think I want to call you Warrior. I miss her voice. But don’t try to imitate her too much; that would be creepy.”
“How’s this?”
Scout looked up at the AI, which was no longer a gray form. She looked something like Gertrude Bauer, but not exactly. She had the same thick braid of copper-colored hair, but her indigo-blue eyes weren’t hidden behind reflective lenses. Plus, she was dressed comfortably in leggings and tunic and a long, bulky cardigan with oversized pockets. Like a teacher, not like a marshal.
And it was all in red.
“Are you considered a Tajaki employee?” Scout asked.
“Not technically,” the AI Warrior said. “I can choose my own outward appearance. I thought it was important for you to remember I’m not exactly your friend, and you should always think twice about trusting what I say. Even though I’ll never lie to you.”
Her voice was Warrior’s voice, without the ever-present sardonic edge.
“Just don’t call me ‘kid.’ That was her thing,” Scout said.
“Understood, Scout,” Warrior said. “Bo left you one last gift, in that drawer there.”
Scout looked where the AI was pointing and slid open a drawer filled with glasses of all shapes and sizes, some with clear lenses like Emilie wore but others with dark lenses or reflective ones like the lens she had over her right eye.
“You’ll find it easier to interact with me with two lenses,” Warrior said. “If nothing here is quite to your taste, we can have something made to your specifications.”
“No, I’m not picky,” Scout said, reaching into the drawer and choosing a pair of round lenses in wire frames. The lenses were reflective like the one she was wearing, but smaller, and with the frames she wouldn’t have that sucking sensation on her cheeks every time she put them on.
She gave herself one last look in the mirror. There was a rush in her belly, something like déjà vu but not exactly. It was like for the first time in her life she was really seeing herself, like her outside matched her inside. Which was strange. But she felt so sure.
Scout walked out of the bathroom to check on the dogs and Warrior followed behind her. The dogs were sprawled on their backs in the grass, writhing with tongues lolling as if the feel of grass on their back and fake sun on their bellies was the best thing ever.
“They’ll be fine here if you want to take a stroll around the ship,” Warrior told her. “I can answer any questions you have about the ship and the people here.”
“I would like to do that,” Scout admitted.
Scout slipped ou
t the door without the dogs noticing, then looked up and down the hallway, not sure where she wanted to go. She decided to go to the left, completely at random, and started down that direction.
“So is that how this education thing is going to work? You just answer questions?” Scout asked. She pitched her voice low, aware that anyone who passed her in the hall would think she was talking to herself.
“That is an important part of it,” Warrior said. “We will have to make time for more formal instruction, starting with a series of tests so I can grasp where you are on all subjects. But perhaps that should wait until we arrive at galactic central and you are feeling more settled.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Scout said. She felt a sweat breaking out all over her body just at the word ‘test.’ She was guaranteed to fail, and she wasn’t looking forward to the experience. “So, people live behind all these doors?” she asked by way of changing the subject.
“Certainly.”
“Families?” Scout asked.
“Not as such. A few married couples are stationed on this ship, but no one with children,” Warrior said.
“But I saw kids before,” Scout said.
“Those are orphans that Bo Tajaki has taken in,” Warrior told her.
“There are a lot of them,” Scout said.
“They live in dormitories and attend a school during the day,” Warrior said.
“Are any of them my age?” Scout asked.
“They range in age from ten to fourteen years,” Warrior told her. “But most are within six months of their twelfth birthday.”
“Pretty specific grouping for orphans, isn’t it?” Scout asked. She had a bad feeling, and she didn’t think she was just being paranoid. Bo had sworn there were no assassins on his ship, but she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.
She had good reason to be wary of twelve-year-olds. Three had tried to kill her only a few days before.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
Warrior was saying something else, some sort of explanation on the age of the children, but Scout missed it because as she turned a corner, she nearly collided with a woman walking at a fast clip. Scout stumbled and reached out to grasp the woman, to be sure she didn’t knock her down or fall down herself, and was already half mumbling an apology for not looking where she was going.
But the woman slipped away before Scout could catch hold of her, stepping back and standing in what looked like a fighting stance. She didn’t seem aggressive, just like someone who had so much training she just stood that way whenever she avoided being knocked over. Without that arm to catch hold of, Scout tumbled into the wall, but she quickly pushed herself back upright and spun to look at the woman.
She had been familiar.
The woman smiled at her, winked, and then turned and continued on her way at that same fast pace, never looking back at Scout.
Now Scout’s heart was hammering so hard in her chest she could see her pulse beating in the corners of her eyes.
That had been the woman who had pushed Seeta out of the hangar, who had killed Sparrow’s brother Hal, who had been the leader of the organization that had killed so many of Geeta and Emilie’s friends.
And she was here, strolling the halls like she owned the place?
And she had looked right at Scout, recognized her, and just left her standing in the hall. As if seeing Scout here was not unexpected and was certainly not alarming.
What was going on?
24
Scout stood frozen for far too long, her brain trying to make connections but repeatedly fizzling out.
The woman was still wearing black. Her cloak had done that same familiar spiraling swoosh when she had turned away from Scout. But if she wasn’t one of Bo’s employees, what was she doing on the ship?
Who was she here to kill?
That thought burst the jam in Scout’s mind, and she broke into a run. She turned the corner around which the woman had disappeared, but there was no sign of her. Still, unless she had gone through one of the doors, there was only one other way she could have gone: all the way down that hall.
“Where are we going, Scout?” Warrior asked, jogging alongside her.
“Who was that woman, do you know?” Scout asked. Where did this hallway end? It seemed to go on forever in front of her.
“Her name is Shi Jian. She runs the school,” Warrior said.
“Of course she does,” Scout said, all but spitting the words out as she leaned forward, pushing for more speed. “Bo swore to me she wasn’t here.”
“He must have misunderstood you,” Warrior said.
Scout wanted to argue the point, but she needed the breath for running. She had done too much lying around of late. She already had a stitch digging into her side. And Shi Jian had more body modifications than even the galactic marshals Liam or Gertrude. The last time Scout and her friends had lost track of the woman in black, her only avenue of escape had been through the vacuum of space. If she could survive that, outrunning Scout would be no problem.
Scout could hear voices ahead of her, a sea of voices all overlapping. The corridor ended where it crossed another, larger hallway, one end plunging deeper into the labyrinth of long passages of closed doors, the other leading out to the bright light of the open heart of the ship.
“Which way did she go?” Scout asked, stopping at the cross corridor as much to catch her breath as to make a decision. She didn’t seriously think Warrior could answer—surely it was a fifty-fifty guess—but she did.
“At this hour she must be heading to afternoon classes,” Warrior said. “I have access to her schedule. She is in the multipurpose room.”
“How do I get there?” Scout asked.
“Follow me,” Warrior said, heading down the left-hand corridor towards the constant hum of voices. Scout pushed the hair out of her eyes—it was even longer now than before—and followed Warrior into the heart of the ship.
They were in an open plaza at one end of the park. It would be the perfect place for an open market, although at the moment it seemed to be about to host some sort of entertainment. People were gathering in groups, the groups coalescing and then drifting closer to a stage on the far side of the plaza. Lights were spinning lazily about the stage, but no one was on it yet.
Warrior skirted the edge of the crowd, running along the tree line at the edge of the park to the far side of the ship. Scout ran after, occasionally colliding with people Warrior had danced around without a problem and having to apologize before pressing on.
The AI Warrior could at least act like she remembered that one of them had a solid form.
She finally reached the far side of the plaza. The crowd was sparser here behind the stage. Warrior was waiting for her at the beginning of another wood-paneled corridor. Warrior put a finger to her lips and then led the way at a fast walk. Scout jogged after. She hoped she was being quiet enough; there was no way to calm her labored breathing without stopping.
Warrior stopped in front of a pair of double doors but then seemed to change her mind, heading instead further down the hall to a narrower door and waited for Scout to open it before continuing up a narrow staircase.
Scout kept forgetting that Warrior had limitations. She could show Scout where to go, but she couldn’t open doors. She could probably float through walls, but could she see things on the other side when the box that contained her programming was still with Scout?
She might have access to ship systems. Scout had so many questions, but now wasn’t the time to ask them. She ran up the stairs after the AI Warrior.
The stairs ended in another door, and beyond that door was a little balcony overlooking a large room. Warrior put her finger to her lips again, although with all the noise rising up from below, Scout doubted anyone could hear any sound she could possibly make.
Scout took the warning to heart, though, bending double and creeping up to the rail that marked the end of the balcony. She stayed low and close to the wall, hoping no
one below had any reason to look up.
The room was full of kids. They all appeared to be between the ten- and fourteen-year ages that Warrior had said attended school on the ship, so these must be Bo Tajaki’s orphans.
But it wasn’t a classroom. The room had the same warm wood paneling as the rest of the ship; the lights were turned up quite a bit higher, and the wood floor was covered in rows of thick matting.
Definitely not any kind of classroom Scout had ever seen in her own school days.
The kids were running at each other, catching and throwing each other down to the ground. Some of the older kids were sparring with real knives, even throwing them at each other with deadly intent.
Even the smallest kid’s body hit the mat with a loud thoom. These kids were heavy for their size, just like the tween assassins she had faced off against back on Amatheon. She bet they bled the same oddly colored blood as well.
She leaned closer to the rail, trying to get a better look at the kids more beneath her. Some of the kids were boys, but the vast majority were girls. They had a range of skin tones and hair colors, although they all wore the same red training uniform. A few had brightly colored hair, the kind the counterculture kids among the Space Farers preferred. Others had their hair in the simple braids favored by Planet Dwellers.
Where had these orphans come from? Both places? Why? So they could pull off assassinations in both those places?
Scout crept back from the railing to the top of the stairs where Warrior still stood.
“Where is she?” Scout asked, the lowest of whispers. Warrior had always been able to hear her no matter how softly she spoke. Scout reckoned that was even more true for her AI version.
“She’ll come,” Warrior said. Scout flinched at the sound of her voice speaking as loudly as ever, but of course no one could hear her but Scout.
She would have to ask how that worked. Later, when there was time.
“Attention!” one of the older girls below yelled, and the sounds of tumbling and sparring immediately stopped. There was the patter of bare feet rushing over the mats. Scout crept back to the railing to see the kids standing at attention in neat rows.
