by C. Gockel
Watching her, James felt unhelpful and called out. “I think I’ll go stand guard with Chavez.” The ensign was down at the bottom of the plastitube lift, waiting for supplies.
Turning in the lift, her eyes widened behind the mask. Across the ether, she spoke over the general channel, “That is a good idea.”
He tried to give her a smile, but his jaw just shifted. Her avatar appeared in his mind and winked. For a moment Noa’s avatar with plump cheeks, thick glossy black hair, and lithe athletic form in perfectly-tailored Fleet grays was suspended in his visual cortex, right next to the real Noa: face mask on, hair thinner, too-large clothing hanging off her body. The lift closed and he found himself staring at the door.
Beside him, Eliza gasped, “6T9, I think I need you to sweep me off my feet.”
“Of course, my love,” 6T9 replied, gently scooping Eliza into his arms. “I’ll take you back to your quarters.”
James felt like he had been swept off his feet, by Noa, or by circumstance. And then he remembered a conversation with Monica’s cousin back on Earth, after the man had just gotten engaged. James had quipped, “Love is just a lie men tell themselves. The only true emotions are greed and fear. Love is greed, the desire for sex and fear of being alone and death—you make babies and convince yourself that’s immortality. It’s an illusion.”
He remembered the man’s response. “Fuck you, James.”
James tilted his head at the memory. To himself, or his old self, he said, “Fuck you, other James.”
At that moment, Noa pinged him over the ether. He opened his mind to hers and drawled out a “Yessssss ...” like a villain in a popular holo video, because it was random, and it might make her laugh.
“Ha, ha, very funny,” she said, and James’s neurons and nanos danced. “Make sure you let Monica know we might have a position for her, alright? See if she has any experience with heart surgery. I’m just thinking … Oliver might need her.” Besides a metal arm, the child had an artificial heart. One that was soon going to be too small for his growing body.
“Of course, I’ll do it right now.” The lie slipped out before he’d thought about it. His head ticked.
“Great,” Noa said. Across the channel between her and him she tossed the glowing ball of light they’d passed back and forth to each other in the morning, a secret kiss. And then she disconnected.
The thought of contacting Monica made James's skin crawl. Still, Noa was right. He reached toward Monica's channel, took a breath, and couldn’t make himself do it. His hand trembled. What was wrong with him? Oliver's life might depend on having a surgeon aboard. Contacting Monica was the right thing to do ...
But it felt wrong.
He ran his trembling hand through his bangs. Maybe there was something in his old life that had happened that he couldn't remember, a reason he couldn't trust Monica? Maybe it was buried in his subconscious, maybe his fear was a warning? He should tell Noa about it ... his head ticked. But he wouldn't. Not right now. He couldn't make himself. Was it because of something inside himself ...
... or because he was controlled by someone else?
Shaking his head in frustration, he headed toward the lift, and something he could control.
* * *
There was no upside down in zero G, but Noa’s head was oriented toward the stern of the Ark and her feet were oriented toward the bow. The air inside the air locker was pressurized, and read-outs in her CO2 filtration mask said that, if she took off the mask, she wouldn’t pass out. But she absolutely wasn’t about to take the thing off.
The air locker was just slightly wider than the Ark’s not very impressive wingspan. Strips of lighting barely illuminated the exhaust-stained corners and walls, and the team had had to set up lights of their own. They cast long shadows around the ship, reminding Noa of being in a holo set’s spotlights.
Manuel’s voice cracked over a 300 year-old radio in her helmet, not the ether. “The time band is threaded on this side.” His voice sounded faint over the hum of her mask as it took her exhaled CO2, stripped away the carbon, and pumped oxygen toward her nose and mouth. She looked a little nervously toward the doors of the air locker above her feet. She’d half expected Adam to open the doors and let her team be sucked out into space. That was why she’d insisted they wear the masks and envirosuits with umbilicals connected to the ship. Envirosuits were lighter than spacesuits, easier to maneuver in, but not meant for the extremes of vacuum. Still, the suits and air masks would keep them alive long enough to be pulled into the Ark if the doors opened.
From his side of the vessel, Gunny said, “Threaded here.”
“Ready, Manuel?” Noa asked her engineer.
“Run the test, Commander,” Manuel said.
Noa held up a small time-flux capacitor. It was shaped a bit like a cut-off stunner pistol. She touched its short barrel to the silvery surface of the band and pulled the trigger. There was a flash of light, and Noa held her breath.
“Reading’s good over here,” said Gunny.
“And here,” said Manuel. “Give it one more shot, Commander.”
Noa applied the capacitor one more time. Gunny gave a happy whoop. Manuel said, “I think we’re just about ready to blow off this rock.”
Instead of feeling elation, Noa had a sudden feeling of dread. She reached out through the ether. “Chavez, do we have the charge dispersers?”
“James and I are heading out onto the dock to get them now.”
Across the general ether, Kuin said, “Any word on the toilet goop?”
“It’s still being inspected at the inspection station, just off the dock,” said Kara.
“Kuin, Bo, why don’t you meet us at the flexi-tube so we’ve got someone there to haul up the goop when it clears inspection?” Noa said, leading her team to the airlock.
“Be right there,” shouted Bo with too much enthusiasm.
A few moments later, the two engineering students were bouncing into the lift with Gunny, Manuel, and Noa. Just before the doors slipped closed, Carl Sagan darted in with a squeak. The lift started to descend and Manuel put his hands above the controls and eyed the werfle. “Should we go back up, Commander? Drop off our stowaway?”
Noa swooped down and picked up the creature. He promptly slipped out of her grasp and dashed around her neck. He hissed at Manuel.
Noa shifted on her feet. She didn’t want to spare a moment. “No, he’s fine.”
Kuin laughed and said through the ether, “You look like a pirate with that werfle around your neck!” He projected a poorly rendered image of Noa in a straining corseted top, eyepatch, faded green lizzar skin trousers, and ridiculous high heeled boots, werfle on her shoulder.
Over the ether, Eliza snickered. “Noa doesn’t have such sophisticated fashion sense.”
Noa smiled tightly; from Eliza the tease was fine. From Kuin … the mental picture of the busty pirate in high heels showed a definite lack of respect. Manuel glared at Kuin, and looked like he was about to slap him upside the head. Kuin seemed oblivious; he was grinning like a silly kid.
Over the ether, James said, “I thought pirates kept parrots?”
For a moment, Noa thought she heard every Luddeccean member of her crew blink. It was Eliza who answered over the ether. “On Luddeccea, the most famous pirate Captain … Captainess … wore a werfle on her shoulders. He was poisonous, and more reliable in a fight.
“Lovely lady,” Eliza continued. “Though I didn’t think that when I saw her at her husband’s trial. At the time I thought that her husband’s execution by the hardliners was for the greater good …”
The lift jerked to a stop, the door whooshed open, and Noa missed the rest of Eliza’s account. An unfamiliar man in tick armor, a stun rifle in his grip, was standing right in front of her team. He was tall, broad shouldered, muscular, but beneath the armor only his chin showed, and so his only distinguishing characteristic was a long, fresh scab down his cheek. As he looked down the muzzle of her upraised weapon he
smiled, disconcertingly unconcerned. He didn’t point his rifle at her, and so she didn’t fire; but it was a near thing.
The man smiled. “Hello, Commander.” The voice was 6T9’s.
Gunny swore. “You’re about to get yourself stunned!”
As if not hearing, 6T9’s head and his visored eyes dropped and began to count, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten …” He nodded sharply. “Do not worry, Commander, the creature on your shoulder is a werfle.”
Noa holstered her stunner, and she heard Manuel and Gunny holster theirs. “Why are you in armor?” she asked.
“Oh,” said 6T9, “it was Professor Sinclair’s idea that I stand guard here while he and Chavez retrieve the charge dispersers.”
Gunny snorted. “Don’t it go against your programming to be dangerous?”
6T9 cocked his head in a way that was vaguely serpentine. “Oh, yes … but I can look dangerous. Dangerously sexy.”
Kuin choked. Bo gagged. Noa rolled her eyes. “6T9, you're dismissed. Give your weapons to Gunny, he's relieving you. Go help Eliza with Oliver.” She signaled to Manuel to follow her across the dock.
“Do you actually have a cut on your cheek?” she heard Gunny ask. “Is that makeup?”
She heard 6T9 reply, “Oh, no, not makeup. The name 'sex ‘bot' is somewhat of a misnomer for me, as I am technically a cyborg. I have very realistic artificial blood, in case Eliza was interested in blood play.”
“That was an image I didn’t need,” Gunny thought to the team at large. There were a few sputtering noises from Bo and Kuin, but Noa was focused on other things. “Ensign? James?” she called through the ether.
For a moment there was silence. Noa's breath caught, and then James and Chavez responded in unison. “We’re fine.”
“What’s the holdup, then?” said Noa, coming around the forklift. Chavez was wearing her pants rolled up to her thighs with her metal legs exposed, a distinctly unprofessional look. Holding a stunner rifle at the ready, she was standing guard over an enormous cardboard box large enough for a home refrigeration unit, but she caught Noa's glance. “Legs are acting up, Commander. I need access to the control panels.”
“Of course, Ensign,” Noa said, letting out a breath. Chavez's metal legs were just temporary augments and bound to be buggy. She turned her attention to the carton. The container was literally falling apart at the seams. There were gaping holes in two corners, and it was listing dangerously to one side. James was hastily picking up charge dispersers that had fallen out.
He looked up at Noa. “It disintegrated when they dropped it, and they took off.”
“Like xinbats out of hell,” said Chavez.
Or out of the line of fire, Noa thought.
“Well,” said Manuel, “at least we know they really delivered charge dispersers.” He picked one up and squinted at it. “This one is fine …” He picked up another and scowled. “This one is not. I’ll have to inspect the lot of them.”
“Lieutenant,” Noa said to her engineer, who was busily going to work. “Let’s do that inside.”
Remembering himself, Manuel looked up, eyed the dock workers whose eyes were on them, and said, “Right, Commander.”
Noa looked out at the crowd. Her whole body tensed. “What do they know that we don't?”
Across the ether came James's response. “Nothing that we don't know already.”
Noa's eyes went to him. He answered her silently. “You thought aloud.”
She swallowed, and felt her face heat at her lack of control, but she lifted a brow at him. “You've been listening in on them?”
James was silent for a moment. His chin dipped; he looked like he was holding his breath.
“With your augmented hearing?” Noa said, not sure why she was making it a question.
“Yes,” he said quickly, and bent to pick up the charge dispersers.
Noa looked out at the dock hands and shivered.
* * *
James stepped out of engineering into the relative cool of the hallway and rolled down his sleeves. There was a faulty cooling pipe in engineering. Manuel said it wasn't dangerous … and James had found it wonderful to lean against. He missed it already.
Beside him, Noa was tapping her fingers against a thigh. She'd been doing it the whole time they'd been with Manuel. Carl Sagan was on her shoulders, rubbing his head against her ear, but she wasn't paying attention to him. Noa reached through the ether. “What's the status on the goop, Ensign?”
“Waiting for it to clear inspections,” said Chavez.
Aloud Noa muttered, “Maybe they want a tip.” There was a scowl between her brows and a hard set to her jaw. James knew that look.
“If you’re going to the inspection station,” James said, somewhat resignedly, “I’m coming too.”
Her scowl melted, and her lips quirked. “Sure you’re not too hungry?”
And there was the Noa he knew. Playing her game, he shrugged, and looked toward the ceiling. “You know, I’m actually not.” He said it in a tone that said he was surprised himself—it wasn't completely fake.
A real smile graced her face. “Let’s head to the store rooms and pick up some S-rations; they seem to be motivational on this rock.” Noa inclined her head toward the lift. As if on cue, the door opened.
Oliver came charging out, his head bowed, something white and billowy in his arms. He raced between them at breakneck speed, leaving a trail of toilet paper on the floor. James stood shocked and motionless. Noa didn't move either. Carl Sagan squeaked.
“So much for my combat-honed reflexes,” Noa muttered.
James's lips wanted to quirk. So much for the lightning fast reflexes of his augments.
Noa strode after the child. “What are you doing down here, Oliver?” she asked.
Oliver responded by shaking his hands and making more of a mess.
From the access hatch by the elevator, James heard, “Nine hundred ninety-seven, nine hundred ninety-eight …”
James was drawn to the sound as though by a string. He threw open the hatch. Behind him he heard Noa say, “Oh, no you don't.”
Oliver giggled.
6T9's voice echoed from above him in the access tunnel, where the 'bot was hanging on the ladder. “One-thousand one, one-thousand two, one-thousand three—”
James felt a nervous cold rush of static along his arms. “Noa, please tell me there is nothing on a starship that has one-thousand legs.”
“Not that I know of,” said Noa, coming over and sticking her head into the hatch. 6T9 was a few stories above. “Sixty, what are you doing?”
“Playing hide and seek with Oliver,” 6T9 called down. “He pointed me toward the hatch and instructed me to count to ga'billion.” 6T9 raised an eyebrow. Smirking down at Noa and James, he said proudly, “But my dialect recognizing app is very sophisticated and I was able to infer he meant a million.”
Oliver giggled. “Shixty.”
James glanced at the toddler. His eyes were downcast, but every few seconds he would look up at James. There was something … calculating in that look. Oliver giggled again.
Over the ether, Noa confirmed James's suspicion. “This little guy is too smart for his own good.”
“I'm having trouble deciding if this is funny or sad,” James said.
“I'm sure I'll laugh later,” Noa muttered. “There is a reason children don't belong on starships.” In her arms Oliver squirmed, and her brows drew together again. “Sixty, get down here and watch this child!”
The 'bot slid down the ladder. As he came out of the hatch, Noa said, “Don't take your eyes off of him from now on.”
6T9 smiled pleasantly and fixed his eyes on Oliver.
“Why is that stare disconcerting?” Noa asked, stroking Carl Sagan's head.
“You can blink, 6T9,” said James.
6T9 blinked. Noa's lips pursed. “Yep, that was it,” she said, and her face softened a bit. Together they stepped into the elevator. Just before the doo
r closed, 6T9 said, “Why is there toilet paper on the floor?”
“Just pick it up,” Noa said, and James eyes widened in alarm.
The 'bot began to speak. “But then how will I—?”
James cut him off. “No, just watch Oliver.” Noa's eyes went to James, and he shook his head in the negative. She took the hint, and actually smiled as the lift started to ascend. And then Gunny’s thoughts came over the ether. “Commander, Bo and Kuin slipped away while some dock hands got ‘bit belligerent wantin’ to buy some augment parts, and Chavez and me was talkin’ to them.”
Noa cursed aloud, “Baka.” The scowl returned to her brow.
“We contacted them. They’re at the inspection station. Should I go get them?” Gunny said.
“We can go get them,” Noa said. “We can be there in a few minutes.”
As soon as she said it, the lights in the elevator flickered off. Noa reached across the ether. “Manuel, what’s happening?”
“Commander?” the engineer responded. He sounded oblivious. Before James could work out whether that was good or bad, Noa asked. “Did the lights go out?”
“Nooooo …” Manuel said, his thoughts cautious.
“Commander?” said Gunny.
“Go get those idiots, Gunny!” Noa commanded.
“Right away!” Gunny replied.
“The power’s out here,” James said to Manuel, explaining why she was distracted. “Not there?”
“Everything is fine here,” Manuel answered. “Let me check the diagnostics.”
The lights in the elevator flickered on again. From darkness, James's vision went to blinding white. He heard Noa gasp—
“Never mind,” James started to say across the shared channel. “We’re—”
“Not moving,” said Noa.
His vision was still not completely returned. James shifted on his feet. She was right.
“Manuel, can you see anything wrong with the lift?” Noa asked.
James blinked as the world slowly came back into view.
“Still setting up that diagnostic,” Manuel's reply buzzed across the shared channel. “This old lady’s electronics are a bit dusty.”
