Joey sat thinking as the sun continued to rise.
***
Porter walked around the side of a rock face and found Rex and Celia sparring. Porter stopped and watched as Rex dodged Celia’s roundhouse kick, flew up for a punch to her face, which she narrowly avoided. Their arms tangled as they grappled and trapped, with Rex finally stopping a finishing blow in front of Celia’s face.
“Finally got the best of her?” Porter asked, his large dark arms folded in front of his chest.
“Nope,” Rex said, returning his arm to his side. “Predetermined form. Couldn’t do that in real life.”
Celia poked at him playfully in the arm with her fist. “That’s why it’s called practice.” Something about the mountain light made her more beautiful, and Porter couldn’t help but be a little jealous. Not that he particularly had any interest in being twisted up like a pretzel, but if it was by her ...
“Care to join?” Celia asked, as if she’d heard what he was thinking.
It threw him off, but he quickly recovered his composure. “No thanks,” he said. “There are doctors for adjustments like that.”
“But they’re not as fun,” Celia said with a wink. Porter raised his eyebrow at the gesture, but quickly shook it off.
“I need to know what my crew is getting into,” Porter said, avoiding eye contact with Celia. He hated to admit her beauty had an affect on him.
“Don’t know for sure,” Rex said, rubbing his wrist. “Old man’s got his reasons, I’m sure.”
“I’m not sure that’s good enough,” Porter said. “I like to keep things simple on my ship. I don’t know what his deal is, but we don’t need to be involved in any power struggles or conflicts. We just want to keep working, with our independence intact.
“And keep our heads down.”
“He paid passage. Isn’t that enough?” Celia asked. Porter looked past her, avoiding her warmth.
“He paid more than his passage,” Porter said. “What price will that come with later?”
“He didn’t tell us what he’s up to,” Rex said. He glanced at Celia. “He usually doesn’t.”
“But I’m sure it won’t involve you,” Celia continued. “Other than a ride.”
“What about Isellia?” Porter asked. “Does he have plans for her?”
The Rex and Celia stared at each other in silence.
“I’m sure Isellia will be fine,” Celia said. “Entering an XR race is what she wanted, right?”
“She better be fine,” Porter said, turning to walk away. “Any harm to her comes over my dead body.”
The two watched him walk away for a moment before resuming their practice.
Chapter 19
They hurtled through space, silently spiraling through translucent walls of purple and red plasma, spinning seemingly out of control, headed toward the distant city of Farven Point.
***
“Steady,” Kenpur said, standing over Joey’s shoulder. “Keep the ship steady.”
“OK,” Joey said. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and little tingles prickled at the back of his skull. He wished anyone else was in his place. They all were watching — they, a crew that seemed to be continually multiplying. Too many people watching. How many more would join this rag-tag bunch?
Joey still wasn’t sure how they’d left the server world. Kenpur had asked whether everyone was ready to leave, and then they all found themselves on board the ship. Joey would have found this jarring a week ago, but that sort of thing had started to become commonplace since they’d entered the server world.
And now everyone was watching.
“You’re making him nervous,” Porter said, his arms crossed over his chest as he stood at the foot of the bridge.
“He’ll be fine,” Kenpur answered.
Porter was right, Joey thought to himself. Kenpur behind him did make him somewhat nervous, but Joey found his presence at the same time reassuring. He couldn’t quite explain the paradox.
He steered the ship through blue and pink walls of light, careful to keep its course parallel to the hallway of light the borders created. The hallway changed constantly, and Joey constantly had to re-adjust the ship’s direction — not something easy to do in space. The lights glowed like sunlight as it fluctuates under water, the waves bending the light rhythmically — but whenever he adjusted to the waves, they changed, breaking the pattern as Joey struggled to adjust.
All of the course corrections cost a lot of fuel, and Joey guessed correctly that Porter would be worried about the fuel cell lasting long enough to get to Farven Point. Certainly what the old man paid them would be enough to purchase all the fuel cells they would need for plenty of space travel, but they needed to get somewhere they could buy them first — and there was nothing between the ship and Farven Point but a lot of empty space.
“Gauge is reading 2.5,” Porter said, tapping the screen’s surface with his index finger. “I think we got enough. I hope.”
Joey had begun to notice a pattern in the fluctuations. He squinted at the screen, deep in concentration. If he could only anticipate the changes...
“I ... think I got it.”
“Look out!” Isellia shouted. The directions suddenly flew out of control, shifting in patterns that had no pattern, shapes for which form had no meaning. The purple and pink walls spiraled around the ship, the cascading colors lighting up the interior in a flurry of swirls. Joey’s head spun as he struggled to keep up, realizing that he wouldn’t for long.
“I’m losing it, guys,” Joey said. Stephen yelled from the engine room over the intercom that the ship’s engine temperature was rising. Porter eyed the engine monitor on the bridge with increasing concern. Everyone held their breath, besides Kenpur, Rex and Celia, who were trained not to. They stood calmly but attentive, and steadied themselves on the railing that surrounded the back of the bridge.
“Steady,” Kenpur breathed out slowly.
“Everyone grab on to something!” Porter yelled.
He seemed to predict the moment Joey would lose control of the ship, as the vessel’s nose dug into one of the walls of the space hallway, engulfing the view screen and the bridge in a bright pink and purple light as the sudden change in momentum jerked the ship and its contents in an unexpected direction.
In a moment they were hurling through space, out of control but still headed in the general direction of the far-off city.
***
“I think the boy can handle it,” Kenpur said. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“I don’t care what you think. It’s my ship and I make that call.” Porter was growing angry, something that rarely happened. He felt himself get flush with agitation. Porter typically possessed the ability to laugh off human folly, but something about the old man irritated him.
“Why not let him do it?” Celia leaned against the ship’s bulkhead on the bridge. Porter’s left eyebrow raised. Another person telling him what to do?
“It’s Porter’s ship,” Rex said. “Not our business who steers. As long as we get there.”
“Well, I think he should have a try. He’s got just as much a chance at steering us through as anyone.” Celia frowned at Rex; she had expected him to back her up.
They all stared at him, waiting for the call. This wasn’t like his previous crew. This new crew came from different places, and none understood discipline as his old crew had. This was fast becoming a democracy, and there was a reason why a ship never is. Decisive leadership is necessary, especially in situations where any decision can mark the difference between life and death.
Any decision.
But none were alive from that old crew, either, save for Isellia — a late addition. Only she remembered. Only she had survived. Sometimes even decisive leadership makes no difference. Sometimes there is no choice, a lesson Porter had learned the hard way.
He looked at each of them a moment, then threw his hands up.
“Fine, the boy steers.” Porter stormed off the bridge, and as he left, Jo
ey couldn’t help but wish Porter had won that argument, for more than one reason.
***
“What’s this region up ahead?” Porter asked. He leaned on the navigation console, a table positioned in front of the viewscreen which displayed a map the ship’s position in space. The display allowed the crew to chart its next course. Rex leaned next to him.
“The Heisenberg conduit.” Rex frowned slightly — more than usual.
“What’s that?” Porter asked. “Can we get through it?”
“We’re going to have to,” Rex said, to no one in particular. “Don’t have the fuel to go around.”
“That doesn’t tell me much,” Porter said.
“Not much to tell.” He ran his finger along lines that no one but him could see. “Gotta keep the ship through the hallway. Bad things happen if you don’t.”
“What kind of bad things?”
Rex shrugged. “Probably better not to find out.”
Porter gave him a sidelong glance. “Well, what if we do?”
“Never met anyone who made it through.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.”
“Doesn’t mean anyone never did. Just haven’t met ‘em.”
“So I’m supposed to put this ship at risk based on that?”
“I’m not sure there’s much choice, Captain,” Celia said. She smiled at him, which Porter found disarming despite trying to maintain his authority.
“Do what you want,” Rex said with finality, pushing himself up from the console and walking away, as if the matter was settled.
There wasn’t much to say, Porter realized. They would have to go through the conduit, whatever it was.
***
Just like that, in a flash of light from the flames of the fire, they were on the bridge of the ship. Home in an instant, like they had never left.
Porter looked around, disorientation fading quickly as he looked for a time reference. He checked the navigation station, which kept track of UGT (universal galactic time) — it was only moments after they had entered Babel IX.
“Time warp,” Porter muttered.
“No warp,” Kenpur said, smiling serenely. “Time simply doesn’t exist in the server. Very peaceful that way.”
“Thanks for getting us back, robot,” Joey said, patting its metal plate like he would a friend on the back.
The robot turned its cranial unit to regard Joey a moment. It spun its head around twice, fast enough that Joey lost track of it, then stopped right on Joey again. Its lights blinked twice.
“I think he said, ‘You’re welcome,’” Celia said with a warm smile.
“Maybe its logic board is shot,” Isellia said, rolling her eyes.
“Isellia’s logic board is permanently damaged,” the robot said.
Isellia’s mouth was agape. “Did he ... it ... did the robot just make fun of me?”
Joey laughed in a fit. “The robot made a joke!”
“Stop laughing, you little...” Isellia threw a glove at him. “I’ll pound you!”
Joey kept laughing, and the robot’s LED flickered in a manner that could be interpreted as laughing.
Isellia grabbed Joey, shaking him while he continued to chuckle. His laughter was as much about relief as it was humor, a relief that maybe the robot would be OK.
“Stop laughing, you little twerp,” Isellia shouted back, grabbing his shirt.
“Guys,” Porter said, but even he couldn’t help but smile. Isellia let go, and Joey’s laughter began to subside, tears still at the corners of his eyes. There was more than a little relieved tension in all their voices.
“I’ll get to the engine room,” Stephen said, walking away without waiting for approval.
“Now,” Kenpur said. “Let’s see where we are and where we need to go.”
“Yes, let’s,” Porter said, eyeing him with disdain. Last I remembered, this was my ship, old man, he thought. But he knew the old man was right, so he didn’t say anything.
***
“When are we leaving?” Isellia whined. She lay with her back to the wall, staring into the fire for what seemed to her like the 300th hour. She twirled one of her bangs absently and tapped her foot.
“Why, you have somewhere you need to be?” Kenpur said in mock inquiry.
“Yeah, I got a race to run!” Isellia said, sticking her tongue out at him. Kenpur shook his fist at her playfully, then scanned the room. Everyone else had gathered in the cavern. They all had a look on their faces as if no one was quite sure what was supposed to happen next. No one seemed like they wanted to be the one to ask, either, so Isellia’s inquiry came as a bit of a relief.
“Hmm, I suppose it’s about time.” Kenpur stroked his long, white beard. He stood looking into the fire.
“Well, so what do we do, geezer?” Isellia asked.
Kenpur didn’t respond to the insult. He kept staring at the fire. The fire began to roar louder, and glow brighter. Everyone stopped watching Kenpur; they were transfixed by the ever-growing flames.
“Let’s go,” Kenpur said in a calm voice. The flames suddenly flashed a bright light, and then...
Chapter 20
“So you s-s-s-s-see, Mr. Malvers-s-s-s-s, you have little choice in the matter,” said the tall, dark man sitting across from the Farven Point city administrator. Malvers tugged at his custom-fitted, carbon-goretex suit, still trying to pretend that the man’s appearance didn’t unnerve him to the core.
The man who sat across from him was literally black — as in the absence of light. When Malvers stared at him, it was like staring into the abyss; like staring into a black hole from which no light could emerge. Every so often, Malvers would shake his head, his eyes desperately trying to find something on which to focus.
Malvers tugged at the folds of his suit, which happened to be a top-of-the-line item and available at his clothing store. In addition to being the administrator of Farven Point, he was also the owner of one of its most prestigious clothing shops, and thus he usually strutted about as one of its best-dressed citizens. He wore expensive, rectangular dark-rimed glasses, and his hair was cut neatly into a squarish shape, perfectly symmetrical and tidy. He had it trimmed weekly.
Malvers prided himself on being an intimidating man. He ruled his city behind the scenes with a Machiavellian ruthlessness. His subordinates feared crossing him. He wasn’t used to being intimidated himself, which made the experience of dealing with this shapeless man in a suit and fedora that much harder to stomach.
Malvers said nothing for a moment, sitting at his chair in the administrator’s office behind his desk, tugging at the corner of his metallic lapel between his forefinger and his thumb. The fabric was a Sasugan design, a Sasugan invention in fact, and only the richest in Farven Point could afford it. Two more just like it hung in Malvers’ closet.
He felt the man’s stare, somehow, despite the lack of any features on his face. Malvers dared not look into the dark void that was his face — the moment he’d looked at that deep well of empty, he’d felt his features being pulled into a center that didn’t exist. Malvers wasn’t used to someone he couldn’t stare down. Not even that punk from the Star Runner, the local gossip rag, as he often called it.
Malvers adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses on his nose, pushing them up slightly. The silence began to grow more uncomfortable. He had taken to staring at the spec sheet — the ridiculous spec sheet detailing the ridiculous motion this ridiculous man wanted him to push through council. “Ridiculous” was the word he kept coming up with. There was no other word for this entire situation.
And yet, this ridiculousness could bring down the whole thing, he thought. Everything he’d built for himself and his family could be destroyed. This is a crucial moment.
The man had been in his office when he came in, sitting in the chair, and simply stared at him. He hadn’t responded to questions of who he was, why he was here. He just stared. Malvers’ demands and interrogations quickly became pleas and calls for understanding while
the man without a face said nothing.
Only when Malvers slumped exhaustedly in his chair did the man speak, saying only that he represented a party interested in conducting business in Farven Point.
Cold tingles worked their way down Malvers’ spine at the sight of the Company C letterhead.
“Well?” the void said. It was as if his voice came out of nowhere and returned the way it came after he spoke. Malvers found it difficult to distinguish between having heard his voice and imagining it.
Malvers recovered himself. “Well, as you are likely aware, we have always been more than accommodating to our Company C partners in all their various trade partnerships in Farven Point. We’ve happily negotiated economic-positive initiatives for the sole purpose of economic development for the betterment of both the city and our Company C partners. It’s my hope that the positive impact from these opportunities will continue into the —”
Robot Awareness: Special Edition Page 23
