by C. Gockel
And Noa … he felt his skin grow cold, his circuits go dark. She might have sympathy, she might not throw him out an airlock or sell him for spare parts, but she didn't believe in cyborg-human relationships. She'd told him as much when he met Eliza.
He thought of the origami unicorn in the dreamscape. He wasn’t sure if she remembered it was from the twenty-first century movie they'd watched in the cattle car while traveling to Luddeccea Prime. It was a symbol of the hero's cyborg nature. Was Noa's subconscious warning her of what he was?
On the bed, Carl Sagan gave a cheep. James hit himself one more time with the stunner, and then reached up and stroked the creature between the ears. Carl Sagan's fur was softer than anything he or the professor could remember. “She'll know eventually, Carl Sagan.” But for now, he'd cling selfishly to every moment he could keep her in ignorance.
Noa stepped out of the bathing nook. Without looking at her, he said, “This stunner is low. I'll take it down to engineering and recharge it.”
“Strange that it's out of power so quickly,” Noa mused. “Didn't you recharge it a week ago? Maybe it has a faulty battery?”
Static flared along James's spine. He'd been using it a lot since they'd begun rationing food. “Eh ...” he said, sliding a shirt over his head, and slipping the exhausted stunner in his pocket, keeping his eyes averted. He didn't want to lie to her; better to try and sound busy.
“What about breakfast?” Noa asked.
“Meet you there,” said James, stepping out the door without a backward glance. It wasn't like he could give her a goodbye kiss.
Chapter Four
Noa stepped out of their quarters, the acrid taste of cryssallis treatment still on her tongue. She saw James's broad shoulders disappear down the access hatch. After some time with a person you were romantically involved with, you tended not to see them, and then all of a sudden, you did in a rush. For some reason, at that moment she had a flashback to the time when she'd first woken up in James's bedroom in his “cottage” on Luddeccea. His broad shoulders had stood out then—and they still stood out. He hadn't lost any weight since being aboard the Ark, despite having his rations reduced. Because of his augments?
She reached up to her shoulder where Carl Sagan was wrapped around her neck, and gave the werfle a scratch under the chin. She was still absently stroking his chin when she arrived in the galley. It had been a cafe while the Ark had been a Luddeccean museum exhibit—it was the only galley she'd ever been in that had recessed lighting and hardwood floors. The former furniture, plus sofas and chairs, was pushed to the walls to make room for the long tables they'd found in one of the cabins. The serving counter was a glass case, better suited for displaying Luddeccean delicacies. Now it was stacked with S-rations. 6T9 was behind the counter doling out the rigorously measured slices of the leathery bars and the liquids that were breakfast. As he dropped her portion on a tray, Noa looked around. “6T9, where is Eliza?”
“Eliza insists that absolutely nothing is wrong with her,” the 'bot replied.
Noa glanced at the ‘bot. His normally expressive, handsome face was blank. Her eyes slid down the line, where several of the Atlantian Guard were shifting restlessly on their feet and eyeing the rations. It was crowded but … “Do you think something is wrong with her, Sixty?” Noa asked. Eliza had insisted nothing was wrong with her when she'd ducked out of the poker match they'd played a few shifts ago. Noa had brushed it off as Eliza wanting to leave while she was still ahead, or maybe wanting to preserve the dignity of the younger people aboard the ship. Eliza had nearly cleaned the Atlantian men out.
6T9 set the water ration he was preparing down on the counter. “She says I'm not to worry.” He stared blankly straight ahead at a point just above Noa's shoulder. “But we haven't engaged in sexual intercourse since—”
Behind Noa came a few groans. “Too much information,” someone said.
Ghost snorted. “You should count yourself lucky.” Not looking at Noa or 6T9, he shuddered. “If any of us had to service that old bat we'd probably smother her under a pillow.”
The ambient conversation in the room dropped.
Noa’s skin heated. “That was out of line, Ghost,” she snapped.
Noa noticed that the Atlantian men had ceased shifting on their feet. One, Corporal Anderson, was looking really hard at Ghost. Anderson and most of the Atlantian crew had started affectionately calling Eliza 'granny,' a name she was happy to adopt, especially when she was taking them to the cleaners during card matches.
Rolling his eyes, Ghost amended, “Smother ourselves with a pillow.” And then sniffed at Noa.
Someone laughed weakly. 6T9 scowled. In the ether, the ‘bot pinged Noa. Ghost's eyes slid to hers as she answered, and then darted away.
“Commander,” 6T9 said across the channel. “I believe this man should be confined to the brig. He is dangerous to himself and others.”
“It was a joke, Sixty,” Noa replied aloud. She glared at Ghost. “A joke in poor taste.”
Narrowing his eyes, 6T9 admonished the man, “You look down on me because I love a human you see as undesirable. I look down on you because you're incapable of seeing what is desirable in a wonderful, amazing, intelligent human being who does not meet your ideals of beauty.”
Around the cafeteria, silverware dropped. Ghost snorted. “Were you programmed to say that, 6T9?”
6T9 put Ghost’s rations on a tray. “Of course I was programmed to say that.”
“I look down on you because you're a 'bot,” said Ghost, taking his tray and quickly walking away.
“There is no greater purpose than service to others,” 6T9 muttered, putting rations on Anderson's plate. The ‘bot met Noa’s gaze. “And nothing is greater than being loved and loving in return. So do I not provide the highest service? Do I not fulfill the greatest purpose?”
Noa stood, staring at the 'bot, at a loss for words.
“We are programmed to say that, in such circumstances, too,” 6T9 said.
“You do a great job of taking care of us,” said Anderson, lifting his tiny rectangle of S-ration.
6T9's face brightened. “Eliza isn't the jealous type. Quite the opposite, in fact. You are a handsome specimen of your species, and I could take care of more than just your nutritional—”
Anderson winced. “No, thank you,” and hustled away.
There were a few snickers. Noa's chronometer app chimed, and she left the 'bot to his job. Turning around, tray in hand, her eyes met those of Dr. Monica Jarella. The doctor was sitting alone, and she smiled tentatively at Noa. Noa rarely had a chance to talk to Monica; their shifts and sleeping schedules were rarely in sync. Now, she couldn’t help but think of the dream, but she walked over and joined the doctor at her table.
“James isn't with you,” Monica commented.
“He went to recharge my stunner,” Noa said, dipping her S-ration portion in water to soften it.
Monica stiffened. “Are we expecting combat?”
Noa waved a hand. “No, I think James is just being extra cautious.”
Monica relaxed slightly, but still didn't look comfortable or happy. Noa scolded herself. Monica didn't know if her husband was alive or dead; of course the woman wasn’t comfortable.
“He's a different person around you,” Monica said.
Noa blinked at her.
Not meeting her eyes, Monica said, “Less charming, but more attentive … caring.” Her brow furrowed. “My cousin always said he was brave, but …” She nodded as though confirming something to herself. “He's different.”
Before Noa had to say anything, James entered the galley. He saluted Noa from across the room, a new stunner in his free hand.
At the counter, 6T9 said, “Good morning, James.”
“It's rude that the 'bot calls him by his first name,” Monica whispered.
Noa set down her S-ration. ‘Bots were programmed to address humans by an honorific, but lots of people reset them so they used first names. Picking
up her ration, Noa replied, “I don't see any harm in it.”
“It's irresponsible,” Monica said, and Noa remembered that Monica worked for Fleet trying to create human-machine interfaces that discouraged humans from forming attachments with their machines. In combat those attachments could be deadly, but 6T9 wasn't a combat 'bot. He was hardly even a sex ‘bot, apparently. He was Eliza’s nurse.
Walking over to the counter, James said, “Each morning is like a world anew, isn't it, 6T9?”
6T9 frowned as he put rations on James's tray. “That makes no sense.”
In a stage whisper, James said, “It's an idiom.”
Eyes widening, 6T9 said, “And a very profound idiom it is! I will commit it to my app.”
“You do that, Sixty,” said James, putting the stunner down on the tray and walking to the tables. His eyes fell on Monica. For a moment his steps slowed, but then he sat down next to Noa.
“I'd never heard that idiom before,” Monica said.
“I just made it up,” James replied. Dipping his S-ration in some condensed milk, he said, “I like having 6T9 around. He's entertaining.”
“'Bots,” said Monica. There was something familiar about Monica’s tone that made the hairs on the back of Noa's neck itch.
James’s body got very still.
“6T9 is a valued member of our crew,” Noa said, keeping her voice level. No one could take care of her frail great-great-something aunt as lovingly. Ghost's attitudes toward Eliza showed that.
Under the table, James's hand slid onto her thigh and gave her a friendly pat. Noa remembered James’s disgust when he'd first met 6T9. Forget changing since his medical death, he'd changed since Noa had met him.
“Hmmm ...” said Monica. “If you will excuse me, I have to get to the medbay.”
“Of course,” said Noa. Her own chronometer was ticking down. She had only a few minutes before she had to be on the bridge. They'd almost made it to the Kanakah Cloud. The biggest hurdles of their journey were behind them. If they pulled this off—when they pulled this off—and the Fleet was summoned to Luddeccea's system, they'd save millions of lives. The moment felt heavy, fragile, and bittersweet all at once.
Clearing his throat, James slid the stunner to her. “Recharged and ready to go.”
She took the stunner and slid it into her pocket. “You know, the Kanakah Cloud is three times the size of Sol System. If it does have human settlements, it's sparsely populated. We're unlikely to bump into anyone and really unlikely to have any trouble.”
James raised an eyebrow. “Somehow trouble always finds you.”
Standing up, she grinned. “Look who's talking.”
James sat with such preternatural stillness that she wondered if it was an augment ability. Had she stepped on his delicate Earther sensibilities? His face was expressionless.
“Touché,” an avatar of James said, materializing in her mind with a grin, and Noa relaxed and found herself grinning in real life. He got her. She didn't really care that he was trouble, but she couldn't miss an opportunity for a joke.
He tossed a ball of light to her between their minds, their code for a kiss, and Noa felt her cheeks grow warm. What they had, right now, it was perfect, and she wouldn't worry about later. As she left the galley, she was still smiling.
A few minutes later she was sitting in the pilot’s chair, her eyes focused on read-outs, her hands clasped to the control wheel.
“Approaching re-entry point,” Noa said aloud and across the ether.
From where he sat at one of her two cannons, Lieutenant Aarav Sterling of the Atlantian Local Guard responded, “Cannons on standby, ready to initiate power cycle as soon as we leave lightspeed.”
“Gunny, report?” Noa asked across the ether. Gunny and the remainder of the Atlantian Guard were in the airlocks with phaser launchers. They’d unseal the locks if they encountered hostiles when they came out of lightspeed. Their shoulder mounted launchers wouldn’t be more than bug bites to a Luddeccean Guard vessel, but they could do some damage to the smaller, leaner ships favored by “independents.”
“Suited up and in position. We’ll be ready to fire before the main cannons come online.”
In the copilot chair, Wren said, “Lot of effort you’re putting into a place where you’ve told me settlements don’t exist.”
“Standard Fleet procedure, Wren,” Noa replied. She’d been unable to follow that procedure before Sterling’s men had come onboard. She hadn’t had a large enough crew. They’d been promptly set upon by a pirate vessel belonging to a Captain Xo. That wasn't going to happen again.
“Manuel,” she said, over the ether, “ready to power down those time bands?”
“We’re ready!” her engineer said.
In her mind, a light pinged. Noa began the countdown. “Ten,” Noa said over the ether, her eyes on the white blur of the universe at lightspeed. “Nine,” she said, and this time her thought was amplified by her original crew joining the countdown. “Eight,” she said and Sterling’s men joined, and then the rest of the ship in a joyous mental chorus. “Six, five, four, three, two, one!”
As the Ark left lightspeed, the white-gray blur of radiation faded away like mist, and the Kanakah Cloud hovered in the velvet before them.
Stationed at the second cannon, Ensign Chavez gasped, “It’s beautiful.”
Sterling whistled.
Noa released a breath. No one was quite sure how the Kanakah Cloud had formed. Instead of a sun, there were two large, vaguely spherical, pale blue glowing orbs near the center. Between them stretched arms of red, purple, and orange plasma and sparkling dust. Gas giants, encircled by the dusty clouds, also glimmered around the stillborn suns.
Checking the monitors, Noa asked, “Ghost, you working on the new heading?”
“Inputting new visual data now and will have the course to you shortly.”
“Thanks,” Noa said. The sector of the cloud they’d entered wasn’t mapped completely and Ghost was filling in the blanks as they went. James would be in the computing lab too, committing everything to his eidetic memory app.
“Checking standard frequencies,” Wren said, in the copilot chair.
“Cannons ready to fire,” said Sterling. “But looks like we’re in the clear.”
“Well, damn it,” Gunny said over the ether. “Professor, looks like you and me got all dressed up for the dance, for nothin’!”
Noa’s brow furrowed. Across the ether, she asked James privately, “All dressed up? Should I be jealous?”
“I’m in Airlock 1 with him,” James said. “With two men per lock, Gunny said we’d have better coverage.”
For a moment Noa couldn’t breathe. Tactically, he was correct. But James was supposed to be in the computing lab, tucked away behind shielding and multiple emergency airlocks. The airlock “turrets” would be the most exposed and dangerous location if they did run into trouble. It wasn’t a position for a civilian. “I'm the one who looks for trouble? What are you doing there?” she asked, managing to keep her thoughts light.
“I volunteered,” James responded. His thoughts came cool and flat, as inflectionless as his expression tended to be. “Obviously, I've picked up some of your bad habits.”
“And Gunny accepted your volunteering?” Noa snapped.
“Why wouldn’t he?” James asked.
“Because you’re not—”
“Not what?” said James. And this time she thought his words carried a hint of venom.
“Trained,” Noa finished.
She swore across the ether she could feel him blink. When his thoughts came again, there was a hint of amusement in them. “That’s never kept you from pushing me into the line of fire before.”
“I’ve never pushed you into the line of fire,” Noa said. “You jumped.” Literally, he’d jumped off a moving elevator to save Oliver, Manuel’s little boy, and then off a building to deliver a cybernetic heart to the toddler.
Her reply was met with silence.
> “Okay, I’ve led you into the line of fire,” Noa admitted. “But only when we didn’t have a choice.” She readjusted her hands on the control wheel. This was why she’d married a Fleet engineer. While she was weaving through asteroids, Tim had been safe back on the fighter carrier. It allowed her to focus on her crew mates. She felt a lump in her throat. But Tim had died anyway, not during the line of duty, not in a way that allowed her to at least blame herself. His death had proven how random, and completely unfair the universe could be.
“Noa?” James’s voice across the ether drew her from her thoughts.
“Gunny's right, you'll do good there,” said Noa, gritting her teeth. Fiery hot solar cores ...
Beside her the ancient comm box issued a brief blip of static, and then nothing more.
“I’ve got your course,” said Ghost, and a three-dimensional map of the cloud appeared in Noa’s visual cortex, along with a brilliant green dotted path—the Ark’s intended course. It took them around the large planetoid before them, close to two more, and around a shimmering finger of dust to a large cluster of asteroids and debris several hours away that hid the time gate. “We’re almost home,” Noa breathed. She set the coordinates, and launched the Ark toward the gate.
Over the ether, Kuin, one of the engineering students said, “The commander didn’t lead us into trouble. You owe me credits!”
“It was she wouldn’t get us into trouble before we reached the gate,” Kara said. “We’re not there yet.”
Noa’s eyes widened. Kara bet against her? Sweet, shy little Kara?
Eliza’s thoughts joined the general frequency. “Don’t worry, Kara. There is still plenty of time!”
“My own auntie bet against me,” Noa muttered aloud and into the ether.
