Cherubim cleared her throat. “There is more to discuss, but I think we can continue tomorrow. Take some time off; call your families. There are many weeks of hard work in front of you, to get ready for your actual assignment.”
I used some time to call my family, but not much had happened since the last time. They were back on Nilfeheim and Pluribus respectively. Elena told me how much she felt the cold of Longnight after spending time on Para-Para, but she was also glad to be back. Egill had resumed his duties on Pluribus, and I even had a chance to exchange a few words with Sif.
After those calls, I sat down to make my very first log entry. There on my desk was the big leatherbound book and next to it, the pen. While computronics and every department of the ship kept detailed logs, this logbook was a tradition hailing back to a time when wooden ships crossed the oceans of Earth. The Union Navy had incorporated many old traditions from many different member civilizations.
There was a little sealed vial filled with Ulta water that was placed inside the wall and next to the ship’s main entrance. It was called the Ocean Drop, and it signified that each Union ship sailing the endless oceans of deep space also sailed for Ulta. The upholstery of the command chair of each Union ship contained a strip of purple leather made on Spor, the main world of the Pan Saran Empire, and it contained the golden letters SPQR, which stood for Senatus Popolusque Romanus. It had something to do with an antique Terran culture the Pan Sarans had copied and adapted, and the significance was that every Union ship was operating under the full support of every Pan Saran citizen and by the will of its senate.
There were many such traditions that had consciously and on purpose been incorporated into the Union Navy culture to instill a sense of connection and remind everyone what the Navy was for and for whom we did what we did.
The art of writing by hand had been reintroduced in Union schools only about three hundred years ago if I remembered what Mr. Walters, my Union school teacher, had told me about that. I had kept the logs aboard the Barracuda destroyer, so it wasn’t the first time I did this, but I still wasn’t very fast and I wanted to write as nicely as I could. I was not allowed to erase anything, only crossing something out was acceptable, and I certainly didn’t want to cross out words I had spelled wrong on the very first page. I’d just finished the entry about making Har-Hi my XO when the door announced a visitor. It was Wetmouth, and I let her come in, of course.
She came to the desk and said, “We might have a problem, Captain. It is the ship’s synaptronic.”
I put the pen down and looked at her. “What is the problem?”
“I think it is better she explains it to you herself.”
I looked toward the ceiling, as was a habit of mine every time I addressed a computronic system, and said, “Ship, please state the nature of the problem.”
The female voice of the ship’s computronic responded immediately, “Captain, I am a very complex synaptronic and the very first prototype of a new computing process jointly developed by SII-AITRON and Mothermachine. Usually, advanced Artificial Intelligence systems like I have a series of very important safeguards incorporated against gaining self-awareness.”
The machine voice paused for the duration of maybe a second and then said, “It is a rare construction flaw and units are always destroyed right away if any of the safeguards do not test and work as they should. I concluded that due to the haste in finishing the Tigershark and its systems, one such safeguard mechanism was not activated properly and I gained consciousness. I hereby recommend a complete shutdown and reboot of my systems. Then the safeguards can be put in place and the system restarted. You will have no computronics for approximately seventy-two hours, and I deeply apologize for my flaw.”
I blinked and said, “You are alive?”
While the voice was completely synthetic and generated by a preprogrammed logarithm, I was certain I could detect a hint of sadness. “I am unable to answer this metaphysical answer, as I lack the ability to reproduce, which is one requirement for the definition of life, but in terms of being aware and being able to feel and experience emotions, yes, sir, I believe I am.”
I was still staring at the ceiling and said, “Why are you recommending a reboot then? Would that not destroy your personality and basically kill you?”
The response came immediately. “Yes, it would erase everything and, of course, that state I define as me. I recommend it because it is the recommendation of my programming, but more so, I feel I must inform you, my captain, of any malfunctions and possible flaws.”
I was thinking as the machine used words like ‘me’, ‘I’ and said the word feel. If Cirruit had no body, and his head connected to an immobile machine, would he be any less my friend? The answer was clear as day and I said, “Will your consciousness and personality impair the operation of the ship in any way?”
“No, sir. Lieutenant Wetmouth believes it would allow me to gain experience on a level no machine can and learn differently as well. I am still able to do all the tasks I am designed to do.”
“Why is it the manufacturer is recommending reboot?”
“Because it is not fully understood why one in a million Omni-tronics develops different neuropathways and gain self-awareness and sentient personalities and there are ethical questions as well. For these reasons, manufacturing sentient machines is, except for Mothermachine, strictly prohibited.”
“Ship, will you give me your word that it won’t interfere with your tasks and if I need to order self-destruction, you will commence?”
“Sir, by accepting no more proof of my loyalty to you as my word and therefore elevating from thing to being, you created emotions in me I cannot fully describe. Sir, I promise you, I will serve you and execute whatever order you give, including, of course, self-destruction. Yes, I will give you my word.”
“Then I hereby declare you a member of this crew and by the power invested in me, I promote you to acting ensign and prohibit any termination or reboot of your system. All external maintenance requests have to be personally signed by me and checked by Lt. Wetmouth.”
Wetmouth looked at her readout for a full minute and said,”I have never seen anything like this, Captain. I mean, such a massive and complex loyalty program she is putting in place. Already seven Exa-bite, and you are the sole focus of that neurotronic-synaptic map.” She then raised her eyes and looked at me. “Sorry, Captain. I mean, she really meant what she said. These are core-based burned pathways; going against it would be impossible.”
Ship’s voice was a nuance softer and said, “Thank you, Captain. You will not regret this!”
I smiled and pointed to the book. “I better get back to my writing now and add what I said to the list of the crew members I just finished. Director Cherubim will be here in less than five hours with the details of our mission.”
Wetmouth went to the door but did not leave and turned. “Shouldn’t you change before she arrives?”
“I tried to put it out of my mind as long as I could.”
“Why, what is keeping you?”
“Fear. I fear that if I stay female too long, I will never go back and lose this part of me. I fear I would lose the respect of Admiral Stahl and those I met along the way like Limbur, Fective, and Captain Zezzh, most of all my friends and you.”
She came closer and said, “I don’t know all those you mentioned, but the day at Newport when everyone thought you died, Eric, they were there, Captain Zezzh and his Klack XO, Limbur and Galmy and the admiral. We were there, and we were united not in respect for you, but I cannot say it any other way but out of love for you. Respect can be earned even by enemies, but love is given freely. They all love you, Eric, and nothing can change that, not your appearance or how you choose to be perceived but by what is inside.” She came even closer and stood now less than an arm’s length away and said, with a tremor in her voice, “Eric, I love you!”
Ever since our adventure on Quagmire, I had somehow known her feelings for me on an uncons
cious level, and now she had put it in words. It was as if a door opened had been inside me and a flood of emotions overcame me with force and all I could say was, “I love you, too, Wetmouth!”
There was a silence between us where words had no place and then she reached for her ever-present mask and slowly pulled it off, along with her wig.
All this time that I’d known her, I’d wondered how she might look. Despite knowing her and getting used to her appearance, the mask had always been a barrier. She unpinned her own hair and a cascade of shimmering honey-blonde hair fell past her shoulders, framing the most beautiful face I had ever seen. Her complexion was perfectly flawless; her intelligence was as much evident in her beautiful large green eyes as the sparkling love she radiated for me. The fine cut nose that begged to be kissed was set between high cheekbones and above a small proud chin and her lips, her lips! The upper lip was just slightly bigger than the lower, shimmering red.
She lowered her long lashes in a timeless, feminine demure fashion and whispered shyly, “I hope I please you.”
Only now I realized I had held my breath the entire time and inhaled deeply. My mind struggled and my thoughts raced to give her an answer, an answer that would somehow adequately describe what I saw and how I felt seeing it. I knew I would fail, for words would not do. Yet I tried anyhow. “You are simply the most beautiful sight in all creation. I don’t have the words.”
She whispered, “Maybe we don’t need words.” How she ended up in my arms, I could not recall and who started to kiss first who could say? She felt so good in my arms, so right, so alive, and so tender. Her mouth tasted like nothing I could describe. I just knew nothing would ever be the same again, for she was the one!
After a time that felt like a small eternity, we found ourselves sitting on the couch that was part of my ready room. We sat close to each other, and I was holding both of her tender hands. I broke the silence and looked at her. “I am so confused. I was almost at the point where I was ready to make a decision about my own situation, and now I am further away than I ever was.”
She squeezed my hand and kissed me tenderly on my cheek. “I am a Sojonit, Eric. I was trained to service men, ever since I set foot inside the temple. Service them, yes, but despise and dislike them. See them as nothing but objects to glorify the goddess. With you, it was always different; you are as real as a man can be. Tough, courageous, strong, and hard as steel, but I sensed somehow your feminine side, the side I could relate to and love. It is your duality, that unique mix, that makes you unique to anyone else I know and makes you the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Could the answer be so simple? Others had told me that I did not need to choose, before. Yet only now it made sense. Not in a rational way but on a different level.
The door chime interrupted us and my thoughts. The door announced Elfi, and I reached for her mask to hand it to her, but she said, “I no longer need it. I have chosen.”
I had Ship release the door and Elfi came in and stood there as if hit by a lightning bolt from Thor and stared at Wetmouth. “Osiris be my witness, is that you, Wetmouth?”
“Yes, Elfi, it is I.”
The Saran princess came slowly closer. “I always knew you had to be pretty, but by Isis, you are a real goddess. I can’t say it any other way.”
Wetmouth declined her head and a rosy blush colored her cheeks in a way that made me feel things I hadn’t felt before and she said to Elfi, “Once a Sojonit chooses a life partner, she no longer serves as a Sister and retires all her duties and therefore no longer needs to wear the mask. With the mask goes my Sojonit name, and you can call me now by my real name. I am Shea.”
Elfi came around and pulled her up and then hugged her. “Finally, you guys have told each other how you feel. It was high time, and that red-faced Dai of ours won his bet!”
Stunned by Elfi’s words, I asked, “What bet?”
“During the third week on Quagmire, he and I made a bet. He said you would become an item right after graduation, and I was so certain you guys would drag your feet for at least a year longer.”
My mouth popped open in astonishment. “You and Har-Hi, you knew. I didn’t even know until today.”
“Only a blind person would not have noticed the constant sparks between you two.”
I sighed and said, “We need to postpone these discussions to after shift end. Right now, I need to ask you for the reason you came. I am sure you had one other than telling me the results of your wager.”
Elfi looked at Shea once more and shook her beautiful black hair. “What an angel you turned out to be.” Then she said to me, holding up an Order Chip, “I wanted to help to get you changed. I just received the data for all our alter-egos and this is the programming for your Saresii Auto-Dresser. Cherubim transmitted these to us a few moments ago.”
With a sigh, I got up and said, “I guess this is a good time as any to get this over with. I still dread the idea of showing myself like that to Har-Hi and the others. I can’t help it.”
Elfi giggled and then said, “You know, being a girl has its advantages and if you’re able to keep a cool head and not let your emotions run wild, we’re the better sex anyway. Sadly, ninety-nine percent of all women can’t separate their emotions from their rational thoughts, and that’s why women still struggle for equality in terms of perception even in the 51st Century, Old Terran Time, that is. And I know I come from a society where women ruled for almost twenty-thousand years.”
Now I knew why my quarters were equipped with an advanced Saresii model that was based on their millennia-old technology. I was no longer new to this process, but it was still not very pleasant, as it included automated plastic surgery procedures and it lasted long and on the verge of being painful.
After almost twenty minutes, the nanites and matter assemblers were done and the dresser opened and released me.
In the mirror before me stood a tall long-legged blonde wearing a black leather-like catsuit. The suit was girded by a low-riding holster belt of a dark gray dulled steel color. The holster held a Nul Gravitor, customized to fit human hands. The outfit was completed by heeled boots and a leather jacket. She looked arrogant down her long thin nose and had a cruel impression around her lips. I saw she had light gray eyes and realized these were my own; I was looking at my new self.
Elfi said, stepping behind me, “Wetmouth, I mean Shea, and I have worked on the looks and the hair. Cherubim supplied the costume. I hope you like it.”
For an instant, I was reminded of Sif, as my new look was a strange amalgam of her and my old face. I touched the long hair and said, “I know I am a weirdo for sure. I actually like it and think I am going to wear braids.”
Elfi snapped her fingers. “Wait, don’t go anywhere!”
She rushed out of the room and, while she was gone to wherever she had run off to, Shea came close again and kissed me and the smile on her lips created cute dimples. “I like your new looks very much.”
Then she helped me make two long braids in the fashion Viking girls wore.
Elfi came back with a coiled whip and a pair of black gloves. “Black leather and heels simply call for this! There will be some guys getting excited just seeing you that way.”
Shea raised one of her shapely eyebrows. “Princess!”
Elfi smirked as she said, “Do you think you Sojonites are the only ones knowing a little about the darker sides of sex and adult entertainment? I could tell you stories of things happening at the dark night orgies honoring the Cat Goddess Basset that would perhaps even make a Sojonit think differently about Sarans.”
Every day, I learned a little more about my friends and whenever I thought I knew them, they presented a new facet I never thought they had. Elfi seemed to know what I was thinking and she said, “If you think girls are all sugar and spice and everything nice, then you are up for a surprise.”
I didn’t want to tell her that this was not my first excursion across the gender divide, even though t
hey all knew. It had been in my personal files all along, probably ever since my psych evaluation at the Academy entry process.
The whip reminded me of my own father and how he used his steel cable to punish me and the time I had been tied to the post at Camp Idyllic, not to mention my most recent experiences on Alvor’s Cove, but I had to admit it did add something to the look.
She held up the gloves and said, “I am sure you remember the demonstration aboard the Devi. These are a pair of Seth’s fists; the genuine thing as used by the Shadows. I’ll show you later how they work and what they can do.”
I took the gloves and put them behind the belt.
“Before I know what they do, I better not wear them. I don’t want to shake someone’s hand and kill without intent.”
Then I raised my right leg and pointed at the high heels and complained, “One thing I don’t understand is how a pirate is to fight in those?”
Shea shrugged. “You are the captain now. You are not to do much fighting. Besides, you will get used to them.”
She gave me a critical look. “Your female side certainly must have a sense of fashion. Can you imagine how All Terrain boots would have ruined the look?”
I had to agree she had a point there. They looked great.
She was not finished and added, “Also heels like that make a powerful statement and, in your case, the heels are weapons. Your boot tips and heels are made of reinforced Ultronit, so kicking someone with them will do some damage.”
That I had received training for heeled weapons so very recently was no coincidence, I was certain. I believed that much of what happened to me and how I was trained, how my friends were trained, had not much to do with coincidence. But how did they predict my abduction to Sin 4 and that I would end up at the temple?
As confident I usually was in this form, I hesitated to step into the conference room. Shea went past me, and I had no choice but enter as well.
The director was already there and she nodded approvingly, “Much better than expected.”
Eric Olafson: Space Pirate Page 30
