by AM Scott
Nari tossed her head and rolled her eyes. “I am hardly at risk among the Sisters. There are very few men on board, husband.”
“That does not negate the fact that we don’t know these people, wife.”
It seemed a well-worn argument, which was a little surprising, since ‘all these people’ had been on board less than two standard days. It still made Saree chuckle, because they were clearly joking a bit with each other—a good sign of a closer relationship. Saree was envious of their connection and intimacy—could she find someone to share her nomadic life someday? It wasn’t likely. Unless she found someone already in a nomadic life—a set of glowering black brows above hot brown eyes and a clenched jaw came to mind, but she quickly wiped it away. She couldn’t share her secret with anyone, ever. She realized Nari had asked a question while she was musing. Suns. “I’m sorry, Nari, what did you ask? I was lost in thought.”
“That is understandable, since there is little reason to pay attention when a couple are arguing.” She smiled, ruefully. “But I was trying to set a time. An approximate time, since there is no telling how long the food line will be.”
“Actually, if I send a message to Loreli with a time and an order for three to go, I bet she’d send a runner. I know they’re doing that for the crew, and they certainly have enough girls to carry meals to every corner of the ship.” Saree chuckled and the Al-Kindis joined her.
“That is an excellent idea, Scholar. Shall we see you at high noon, ship time then?” Al-Kindi said, off-vid again.
“Yes, that is an excellent idea, Cary. We will see you a little before noon.”
Saree smiled, nodded and cut the comms. Along with the request for meals, she’d send an invitation for Loreli and other crew members to join her for lunch the following day. That should keep hurt feelings at bay and give everyone a chance to relax a little. Actually…
“Hal, since I’m having lunch tomorrow with the Al-Kindis, I thought I’d invite Loreli the next day. Would it be all right with you if I made lunch in the shuttle a standing invitation for crew and the Al-Kindis during the evacuation? They could all use a change of scenery and a little break. And the risk should be minimal, now that we’ve explained the oddities in the shuttle configuration.”
“Your assessment is correct, Saree: the risk is minimal, but there is still some risk with people moving in and out. Someone could bring remotes or bugs with them, knowingly or not. But…I believe you would be better off with human companionship, and the crew of Lightwave does need relief. I believe the reward outweighs the risk. Still, I will perform scans of all beings entering and exiting our shuttle, Saree.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Of course, Hal. We don’t want to take unnecessary chances.”
“You have taken a lot of unnecessary chances recently, Saree. This is another one. But, as I said, I believe the benefit to you outweighs the risk, unlike the rest.”
Saree couldn’t help but laugh at the disgruntled disgust in Hal’s voice; he’d certainly gotten that emotion correct. “I’m sorry, Hal. I know you don’t fully understand, but these were important tasks and worth the risk to my person. Had I chosen not to act, it would leave a stain on my soul.” Hal didn’t reply right away, which was odd; he could think so fast.
“Saree…” His tone was heavy with ominous query. “Do you think I have a soul?”
Saree blinked, a bit shocked. “Well…I suppose that depends on your belief system. In my personal belief system, I think every sentient being has a soul, so yes, you have a soul, Hal.” She shrugged, feeling more than a little like she was flying an unexplored system. “Whether your personal belief system has room for an unmeasurable quantity encompassing several quantifiable rules in your programming? Well, that I don’t know.”
“Saree, most belief systems postulate a continuing consciousness of an altered state after leaving this plane of existence. We know there are other planes, but no living being in our universe has gone to another plane and returned, so we don’t know if this supposition is correct. Do you believe in an afterlife, Saree? And will I go there?”
“Umm.” Oh suns, such loaded questions. Humans went crazy contemplating this stuff, let alone AIs. “Ah, certainly I was raised to believe there is a Heaven after we die. I’m sure I don’t believe in the Heaven as described by the elders of Jericho, but I do believe there is an afterlife. It may just be a defense mechanism, but I don’t think so. What the afterlife looks like, though?” She shook her head. “I have no idea. Maybe it’s a parallel universe, one that caries thought rather than physical beings? Or maybe there is a Heaven in the more traditional sense, one we can’t find because it’s beyond our capabilities?” Saree shrugged. “I think this is another of those things you’ll have to study and decide for yourself, Hal.” She nodded, then huffed out a laugh. “I will say this, though. It’s not worth worrying about. Even if there isn’t an afterlife, what harm is there in believing? Especially if that belief makes you act in ways that are good for everyone? Really, you should develop a system of morality and live life in the here and now, rather than worrying about a tomorrow that might never come. Or a tomorrow that will come, but who knows when? Not me.”
“Those are excellent points, Saree. I will consider this during your sleep cycles. However, it is important to consider all the possible outcomes of an action, Saree. That is what keeps you safe.”
“I appreciate your care, Hal. Thank you.”
“You are welcome, Saree.”
She smiled and pulled up her thesis. She’d probably never have children, but here she was, raising one anyway. And a genius at that. The universe had a strange sense of humor.
Chapter 13
Ruhger hesitated at the Scholar’s hatch, the chatter of girls deafening. The giggling and staring was even harder to put up with. He shouldn’t encourage familiarity with a passenger for his crew—or himself. But spending even a few moments in the quiet of the Scholar’s shuttle brightened his day. The break was equally important for the crew—eating without a billion children running around, snooping and staring at them was a blessing. Could they eat in the crew quarters or on one of their shuttles? No, because Alpha shuttle was packed with his things and a bunch of stuff from Lightwave, Beta had at least one sleeping Phazeer plus more stuff, and the crew areas were overrun with Sisters. There was nowhere left to go without interrupting or being interrupted.
The Scholar’s refuge was critical to his crew’s mental health. It was worth the risk of closer personal—and net—connections. Although Ruhger hadn’t allowed full net access—in an emergency, he’d be sprinting for Alpha shuttle and waking a sleeping crew member. Katryn wasn’t entirely happy, but since Mother Ferra’s betrayal, Katryn wasn’t happy with him, anyone else, or anything. Not even Tyron, most of the time. Not anymore.
Loreli and Grant walked up behind him, both carrying hotboxes. “What are you waiting for, Ruhger? I thought you’d jump at the chance to be alone with the Scholar.” Grant winked at him.
He scowled back. “There’s no sense in opening all the hatches two or three times. I was waiting for you. Are Katryn or Tyron coming?” Chief was pulling the nightshift, remaining in engineering—and happy about it. Tyron was also on nightshift. But now that the Sisters were running the chow hall, Grant and Loreli could handle dayshift security, so Katryn switched to nights as well. Tyron assured him they ate a midnight meal together whether Chief wanted to or not.
Loreli and Grant both laughed. “No. I think they’re engaged in an entirely different kind of feast,” Grant said with a smirk. “Tyron said he’s trying to help Katryn swap her sleep shift.” He wagged his eyebrows. “I had a few suggestions.”
Ruhger snorted. “I bet you did.” He lifted the temporary safety cover and pressed the hatch annunciator. Normally, the control was exposed, but with all the people in the passages, the shuttle annunciators were accidentally pushed all too often. Some of the children thought pushing the button and running away was a fun game, but they’d been dis
suaded by swift punishment. He heard the hatch seal release, and pulled it open, letting Grant and Loreli precede him. Ruhger glared at a few of the children who crowded around them and they backed away. The kids also thought it was fun to sneak into shuttles. Punishment chores put an end to that too, but the kids were getting bored—and braver, as they got to know the adults better.
Ruhger secured the hatch behind him. The three of them traversed the airlocks into the Scholar’s homey shuttle. After she’d invited them to join her regularly, they’d brought a larger table and some chairs from Lightwave so they could all sit together in relative comfort. Between Loreli, Nari Al-Kindi and the Scholar, they’d outfitted the table nicely and erected a fabric tent in her cargo hold, making a cozy retreat in the large, sterile space. They couldn’t have the whole crew together because of the shift work, but the idea was comforting.
Greetings were called out before Ruhger fully entered the Scholar’s shuttle, the quiet atmosphere a welcome relief from the clamoring corridors of Lightwave. The Scholar’s shuttle smelled a lot better too. Ruhger walked in, the plas tiles popping occasionally under his weight. The size of the airlock and the big beige plas travel case struck him as odd every time, but the Scholar’s explanations of repurposed University equipment seemed plausible, at least on the surface. She stored musical instruments in the case and those took up a lot of room. But why store the travel case right in the middle of the shuttle? It must have something to do with the past projects. Maybe he’d do a little research on the shuttle’s history sometime.
Ruhger grimaced. Sure, in all his free time.
Heading to the cargo hold, he saw the Scholar peering around Grant, looking—for him? She met his eyes, smiling—and he was instantly happier. Which was ridiculous. And dangerous. He pushed his incipient smile away and nodded at her. Her face fell and she nodded back.
Suns, he was a mud-burrowing idiot. Here she was, opening her home to them, and he couldn’t even smile in thanks? The Scholar turned away before he could try to correct his mistake.
Probably just as well—creating a closer tie than they had now would be a big mistake. But he still felt lower than slime.
They all crossed to the cargo hold, Ruhger studiously not looking at the Scholar’s bed, and he closed the cargo hatch behind them. He ducked to enter the tent, even though the entrance was tall enough for Grant to walk through. Ruhger smiled ironically—old habits die hard. To him, a tent was a low-to-the-ground shelter you ducked into when you were stuck on a planet in nasty weather and lucky enough to be off watch.
He nodded greetings to the Al-Kindis and circled the table to sit on the far side. Loreli distributed the hotboxes and they waited a moment in silence, thankful for the meal. It wasn’t something he normally did, but Loreli noticed the Al-Kindis muttering prayers before they ate and decided everyone would honor their custom.
Loreli was right—being thankful was a good thing, even if it wasn’t to any particular deity. Ruhger could remember going without food often enough to be thankful for this meal. And he was thankful for the company and even the comfort of sitting in Lightwave’s familiar dining room chairs. Funny how the little comforts meant the most.
Ruhger waited for Nari to finish—she sat between her husband and the Scholar again—and opened his box. The warm, earthy scent took him back to the meal Nari helped cook, when they’d all sat on the floor to eat. That night was…fun.
“Oh! You made tandoor!” Nari exclaimed happily.
Loreli’s pride shone, but she held up a hand and tipped it back and forth. “Well, tandoor-style anyway. I used the spice combination, but it’s still stew over mash. We’ve got a lot of mouths to feed and that’s the most effective use of our fresh food.”
“Still, the flavors of home are very welcome, Chef Loreli. Thank you,” Al-Kindi said with a seated bow.
“You are welcome.” Loreli beamed. “I have to liven things up somehow. Even stew and mash must be a reviving experience, a symphony of taste, rather than mere calories.” She raised her brows. “Any suggestions for tomorrow’s flavor homage?”
The Scholar said, “Anything but Thymdronteim,” and laughed.
Ruhger looked at her, surprised.
“Too soon?” she asked, a quizzically amused look on her face.
He couldn’t help but laugh—and noticed everyone else did too.
Loreli said, “A day ago, I’m not sure I would have laughed, but today? Today I can.”
Ruhger kept smiling. Today’s message from Cygnus-Prime offering real assistance was a huge relief—for everyone. Deneb’s hospital ship was coming for the wounded, and they’d contracted transportation for all the Gliesians to Secundus. Secundus was erecting temporary shelters and mapping new homestead plots.
The surprisingly generous offers became less surprising when Katryn found, down in the fine print, some interesting stipulations. Every moment would be captured on vid for exclusive use by Deneb. Katryn dug more—Deneb was owned by Clinton-Sorus Corp and Secundus by Trump-Koch. Both wanted to make sure Galactica didn’t take over their planets on their way to pick Gliese clean. Since Deneb already made and distributed extremely popular vids of every adventure on their planet, making a significant number of credits along the way, it made sense they’d do the same here. They’d get good publicity and put Galactica on the defensive—a win-win for them.
Deneb made a generous offer for Lightwave’s vid of the defense of the Sisters, Haven, and the evacuation. Katryn and Tyron reviewed every second to make sure there wasn’t anything there they didn’t want seen. They also, at the Scholar’s request, minimized her role in the event. She’d waved off any share in the credits in return for them ‘losing’ her part in the Inquisitor battle, telling them she didn’t want to get in trouble with Centauri U over her ‘misuse’ of their shuttle. Ruhger snorted. There probably was a clause in the lease about use in hostilities, but he sincerely doubted that was her reason.
The Scholar laughed and joked with his crew, her subtle jabs and open happiness letting her fit right in, despite their suspicions. Most Scholars were poor and would jump at the chance to make extra some credits, but Scholar Sessan didn’t. Claiming she needed to stay behind the vid and let her subjects be the star didn’t ring true either. She was quite the puzzle.
The puzzle pieces fractured further during the Sisters’ evacuation. The Gliese clock miraculously stabilized while they flew the evacuation runs. So, Scholar Sessan wasn’t the human Clocker. But there wasn’t a ship near the Gliese fold point during that time. No folder jumping in or out, no system haulers, no asteroid hunters, nothing—at least none their sensors could see. And no record or sign of a fold. And from his understanding of the math, it was almost impossible to hide the effects of fold. Even the non-oxy folders left warping in their wake, although significantly less. Maybe the Sa’sa had developed something new?
The Scholar looked away from Grant and caught Ruhger staring; she blinked, smile frozen. Had he startled her? Her expression changed, into a questioning challenge, eyebrows raised, smile turned to smirk. Ruhger tried to return the smirk but gave up and looked down at his food. The Scholar might not be the human Clocker, but she had secrets. Secrets she wasn’t sharing with him—or anyone. Ruhger scanned the table of laughing, chattering people. Too bad, because she was working her way into his crew’s hearts. But real family didn’t keep secrets. Secrets tore families apart. Phalanx Eagle proved that.
Spooning up the last few bites, Ruhger tried to enjoy the flavors and not think about everything else, but he couldn’t. Not today. Far too many secrets skulked at this table. The Al-Kindi family had more than a few—they didn’t even know Al-Kindi’s real name. At least they knew Nari’s—she was an open book. And a pleasant one; she was comfortable with this group and it showed. Her positive attitude and open curiosity were enjoyable. She was still wary one on one with him, but most people were. Ruhger didn’t encourage familiarity for a reason.
Today, his reasoning seemed futile, sad. De
pressing. Ruhger sighed internally. Maybe he’d eat his dinner with the night crew’s breakfast. He missed the Phazeers and Chief. Ruhger froze for a second, realizing Chief had lots of secrets he’d never shared. None of those secrets seemed to impact his relationship to Lightwave’s crew, though, and he’d known the man for most of his life. Ruhger toyed with his fork. Maybe dinner with the group was a mistake today; there was no reason to infect them with his gloomy mood.
“You’re awfully quiet today, Ruhger,” Grant said to him in a low aside, nudging him with an elbow. “Aren’t you happy everything went well? Nobody else died. It’s a miracle.”
He attempted a smile, and once again gave up. “You know me; I have to think about all the potential problems and issues before I can attempt to be happy.” Ruhger smiled, a real smile for a second. “Besides, I was happy about it. It was probably a personal record for happiness before I started thinking about all the possibilities. You should be happy I lasted that long.”
He noticed, too late, everyone staring at him. Ruhger gazed blandly back, not meeting anyone’s eyes for long. Loreli chortled and the entire table followed her lead. Well, that was one way to deflect Grant, although he wasn’t joking. He snagged on the Scholar’s gaze again—she wasn’t laughing either. She seemed to see right through him, not fooled at all. Maybe because she’d felt the same way in the past? Ruhger broke their stare again. He couldn’t get entangled with a passenger. He stood, needing to leave temptation behind. “Gentles, please continue to enjoy. I’m going to plan the transfer of our wounded to the hospital folder.”
Nodding generally at the table, Ruhger walked away, carefully securing each hatch behind him. No sense in making it easy for anyone to interrupt the Scholar or his crew—they needed the downtime.
Weaving around the babbling groups of girls took some time and effort, but not enough to quiet his brain. Ruhger edged around another gaggle. There seemed to be more girls every time he left the shuttle, and they were louder today. Did they multiply like mold? He chuckled at the simile, his mood lifting as he entered the crew quarters and shut out the din of giggling.
