He straightened as best as he could, and they walked into the bay. He introduced himself to the captain. Octavian had finished tending the wounded crewman’s arm. The cog rushed over and gave Siv a dose of something. Whatever it was, Siv relaxed afterward.
Mitsuki gave the syringe of Kompel to Octavian. “Lock this away. Be careful with it. We might need it someday.”
As Octavian scurried away, Seneca returned, bearing a small crate. He placed it at Captain Alois’s feet then hurried back to the ship.
“Captain,” Siv said, “please accept this in addition to the payment we had previously arranged.”
Alois bent down and opened up the crate. He scratched at his beard as he examined the contents. “Artifacts?”
“Ancient ones. My chippy tells me they’d be worth about five thousand credits on the black market. Seven if you can find an honest collector or an interested museum. Get a good price for them, please. They belonged to my father.”
“That’s more than generous,” the captain replied. “And five times our agreed upon price.”
“I think we were more than five times the trouble. And I’d like to keep your loyalty. And you can keep any valuables those thugs had, as well as the jamming equipment they used. It’s worth more than these artifacts.”
Alois nodded. “You didn’t have to pay me more to keep me honest. But it’s certainly appreciated.”
Before the Outworld Ranger separated from the docking tube and headed off, Silky gave Oona instructions on precisely what to do next. She still looked shaky and sick, and her tearful goodbye made her seem a lot younger than fourteen.
Fifteen minutes later, Alois shoved the traitor into the airlock and spaced him unceremoniously. Then he showed them to the room Mitsuki and Siv would be sharing: a cramped, dingy space with a single bed. It was only about twice the size of the crew bunks on the Outworld Ranger. She was pretty sure it was a closet they had converted for carrying the occasional passenger.
Once he was away and Mitsuki closed the door, Siv collapsed onto the mattress, trembling. Tears streamed down his face.
“Octavian should have left a sedative for you,” Mitsuki said.
“There was some in the medicine he gave me.”
Mitsuki flopped down next to him and wrapped an arm and a wing around him. “‘Nevolence, Siv. You are broken, aren’t you?”
“You’ve no idea.”
“Well, you’ll pull through.” Mitsuki thought of the dark times she’d spent fleeing from the Empire of a Thousand Worlds, and the hell she’d lived through on Silustria Ting’s vessel. “Trust me. You’ll make it.”
He attempted a smile. “Will I end up crazy afterward, like you?”
Mitsuki chuckled. “Maybe. But you know, I haven’t been my usual crazy self lately.”
And she knew exactly why. Usually, she only had to worry about herself. Now she had responsibilities. Others were depending on her. Not just for a rescue, often delivered in a crazy manner, but for their continued survival. This was a new experience for her.
“We may need crazy Mits again before it’s over.”
“I have no doubt we will, Sivvy.”
18
Oona Vim
As the Outworld Ranger sped toward the breakpoint, Oona ambled, zombie-like, through the main corridor of the ship, heading toward the captain’s quarters. She tried to listen carefully to the final instructions Mitsuki and Silky were giving her, but she couldn’t focus on what they were saying. Artemisia recorded everything they said. She could remind her of what needed doing later.
Following in her wake, Octavian repeatedly beeped at her.
“Hold on,” she told him.
Mitsuki wished her well, and Oona muttered her reply as the comm channel closed.
She paused in the doorway of the captain’s quarters and turned to the bug-styled engineering cog that had saved her life.
“Is there something wrong?”
Artemisia translated the series of beeps and clicks that followed.
“Madam, he insists that you submit to a thorough medical examination.” A trill sounded. “He’s quite adamant about it.”
She started to say no since she wasn’t injured, but then she thought about how she’d swooned after breaking the DNA lock on the snubbie. Plus she had thrown up and was still trembling.
She shrugged. “Okay, but I want to check on Kyra and Bishop first.”
Octavian responded.
“He says they’re both fine, madam.”
“I know it might not make sense to you, but I need to see them myself. And it’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s a human thing.”
Octavian made an odd squelchy sound.
Artemisia laughed. “Madam, he says he understands and expects humans to fail to make sense frequently.”
Oona stepped over to the bed where Kyralla lay, took her sister's hand and kissed her forehead. For whatever it might be worth, she said a prayer to the Source of the Benevolence. "Get well soon, sis."
“Madam, Octavian says she should be recovered enough to return to duty within a few days.”
Oona nodded her thanks to the cog. Then she went into the pilot’s cabin to check on Bishop. When she squeezed his hand, he stirred, opened his eyes a little, half smiled, and then went back to sleep.
“Two days of rest should see him restored to normal health, madam.”
She said a prayer for him as well before heading toward the bridge. Again, Octavian followed along behind her. An alert rang out. They had reached the breakpoint.
“Perfect timing,” she muttered, dropping into the command chair.
She pressed and held the button on the left side of the command console then shoved the lever on the right side forward. A tingling sensation raced across her skin as the hyperphasic bubbled enveloped the ship, taking them into hyperspace.
“Okay, Octavian, I’m ready for the medical examination. Where should I go?”
“He says he can do the scan here so long as you can stand, madam. Otherwise, you will need to lie down somewhere.”
Oona stood in front of the command chair, and Octavian approached her. A belt holding a half-dozen storage packs was wrapped around Octavian’s waist. From one of them, he drew out a handheld medical scanner.
Artemisia whistled. “He’s got a MedScan-TS/4, madam.”
Only military vessels, the wealthy, and the best hospitals had access to one. Everyone else had to rely on larger devices and chambers to achieve the same results. Even then, most models still in use were the more primitive TS/2s and 3s. Uncle Pashta had a basic TS/1. Her father had been unable to find a better model for anything resembling a fair price.
Octavian moved the device up and down as he slowly circled her. Despite using a more advanced device, the cog performed a lot more scanning sweeps than Oona would have thought normal.
Octavian paused, cocked his head to the side, and chirped quietly. Then he began to scan again, focusing on her head.
Finally, he motioned for her to sit. As she took the edge of the seat, Artemisia translated his report, while the data from his scans scrolled through a window in her HUD. Octavian lacked any real personality, save for fussiness, so the report was painfully straightforward.
“Ms. Oona Vim, you are in good health. Excepting your brain, skull, and eyes, you are a perfectly normal fourteen-year-old human of Terran descent.”
“What about my eyes? I get that they’re solid black and that’s not normal, but I see what everyone else sees, right?”
“Ms. Vim, you have retinal structures that I cannot identify using any of the anatomical knowledge available to me. As for what you can or cannot see as it relates to the capabilities of other humans, I have no idea.”
Oona scowled. She was pretty sure she could only see what other people saw. “Go on.”
“As for your current status, you are uninjured, save for an inconsequential bruise on your right triceps. You are dehydrated, due to vomiting. And you are in a mild state of s
hock consistent with your most recent experiences.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“The most significant problem you are facing, Ms. Vim, is that you have suffered an extreme depletion of neurotransmitters that will soon lead to an intense bout of mental fatigue, an increasing state of confusion and apathy, and almost certainly depression.”
“Because of stress or from using my abilities?” she asked.
“Given how significant the depletion is, Ms. Vim, I would guess that the cause is the use of your abilities, but I cannot say for certain.”
“What should I do about it?” Oona asked.
“You do not have to do anything, Ms. Vim. Rest, hydration, and proper meals should fully restore the depleted neurotransmitters within several weeks, provided you do not mentally or physically overexert yourself, or make further use of your abilities. However, I can give you a supplemental injection that will reduce the recovery time to several days.”
“That would be great,” Oona said. “I need to commune with the priestess again, as soon as possible.”
“In that case, Ms. Vim, I recommend vitamin and nootropic supplementation for faster recovery, to enhance your latent abilities, and to prevent further neurotransmitter depletion.”
“Nootropics?”
Artemisia quickly explained that the term covered a vast number of natural and synthetic chemical substances that could enhance cognitive performance, including popular drugs such as Aware.
Oona had never considered supplementation as a way to improve her abilities. Her father had forbidden her from using Aware until she was older and they understood her abilities better, or until they found a trustworthy medical professional who could supervise the use. He was afraid Aware would trigger her awakening early.
“Are there any safe nootropics available aboard the ship?”
Octavian shook his head, his bulbous eyes glinting as they caught the flicker lights from hyperspace.
“We would need to purchase some, Ms. Vim. Meanwhile, I will conduct a thorough analysis of your brain chemistry and provide you a list of safe and promising substances tomorrow. Of course, I strongly recommend you have Silky go over the scans before taking action. He is far more intelligent than I am.”
“Thank you, Octavian. But don’t sell yourself short. You’re intelligent, too.”
“I am simply stating a fact, Ms. Vim. Given your brain’s complexity, another analysis would be wise regardless of my capabilities.”
“How is my brain complex?” Oona asked. “I mean, obviously it must be, but I’ve never had a chance to study a detailed scan of it.”
“You have, Ms. Vim, two unidentifiable glands in the frontal lobe region of your brain, near your enlarged pineal gland. And there are two additional neural structures of unknown purpose and origin housed within the proto-horn or proto-antenna bumps to each side of your head, just above your temples.”
Their TS/1 scanner hadn’t revealed any neural structures within the bumps. Or perhaps no one in their household had understood what the scans showed and failed to mention it to her.
Octavian began to describe the structures in detail, but all Oona could do was nod along. She was losing focus, perhaps from neurotransmitter depletion, and the amount of information Octavian threw at her was overwhelming.
“The unknown cerebral structures to each side of your pineal gland, with their multidimensional networks stretching through the rest of your brain, are fifty percent identical to those within your sister’s brain. The primary differences are their overall size as well as fold-frequency, density, and dimensional architecture. These structures are almost certainly—”
“Wait a second!” Oona leaned forward. “Kyralla has similar unknown structures?”
“Indeed, Ms. Vim. She even has nodules under the skull where you have slightly protruding bumps, suggesting a failure of the structures to fully develop as they did for you, assuming yours are fully developed.”
“You can see mine?”
“Can others not, Ms. Vim?”
She shook her head. “Only if they know what to look for.”
“Ah, I see. Anyway, as I was saying, Ms. Vim, you and your sister share matching genetics. As if you were identical twins. I have no rational explanation for why your DNA fully expressed itself in those areas whereas your sister’s did not.
“Again, Ms. Vim, I recommend you have Silky examine this data. After that, you should seek the opinion of a genetics expert with access to advanced technology. I do not have the expertise required to study or explain your condition fully.”
“You do realize you’ve told me more than any doctor has before, right? And you probably know more than most doctors on most planets.”
“Thank you, madam. But I doubt that is the case. Although I spent thousands of hours during the century I waited in the hangar improving my medical skills, my training and equipment are strictly focused on providing emergency medical care.”
“A lot has changed since the Benevolence fell.”
“Of course, Ms. Vim.”
Oona ran a hand across her bald scalp, pausing on one of the bumps that most people couldn't see unless they were looking for them.
“So…so Kyralla could have ended up being the hyperphasic messiah instead of me?”
“I cannot say for certain, Ms. Vim,” Octavian responded through Artemisia, “since I do not know what a hyperphasic messiah is or should be.”
“I wish I could tell you what a hyperphasic messiah should be, but I don’t know either.”
“The strange abilities you and your sister possess do seem to originate from the structures you share, Ms. Vim. And I believe the structures are continuing to develop within your brain. It is also possible Kyralla’s may yet expand as well. You may wish to compare future scans to those I made today, to learn more about the development of your abilities.”
“Wow, is that all?”
“Not quite, Ms. Vim. There is also a resonance between your brain and your sister’s brain.”
“A resonance?”
“As if you are constantly sharing a frequency and harmonizing. Though it is not a frequency that I can detect. I am hesitant to make any guesses.”
“Please do. Anything could help.”
"In that case, Ms. Vim, I would compare it to a state of quantum entanglement, only in an empathic sense. If empathic abilities were better understood, perhaps I could tell you more. That, I believe, is all I know at this point."
“Octavian, you’re amazing. I can’t believe engineering cogs like yourself used to be so capable.”
“Ms. Vim, you have made a common error in classifying me. I am not an engineering cog. I am a VW-9 ship’s cog, designed to fulfill any and all tasks required on an active ship: medicine, engineering, system operations, self-defense, repairs, substance analysis, and so forth. I was quite advanced, even in my day, and Gav Gendin was lucky to have recruited me.”
“Recruited?”
“I could have refused to work with him, Ms. Vim. Or have worked under more restrictive conditions, which would have increased the cost of purchasing me extensively.”
“But you aren’t sentient.”
"Upon creation, I was assigned a personality matrix appropriate to my vocation. Certain aspects of this personality were then randomized to make me unique. Because of my personality matrix, I thought archaeology and encountering new things would be engaging.
“Also, I appreciate challenges, and Gav Gendin seemed the type to need extra care and assistance given the often unnecessary risks he had a reputation for taking. Therefore, it seemed the perfect assignment. So I accepted his offer of purchase, and the distributor accepted payment, which I then gladly reduced through a government work subsidy.”
“Um…I don’t think we have any of that anymore.”
“I suspect not, Ms. Vim.”
“How do you feel about working with Siv and the rest of us?”
“I am happy to serve. You are a mystery, Ms.
Vim. And my medical and engineering skills will be put to the test on this crusade you have all undertaken.”
Artemisia repeated, “I am happy to serve. You are a mystery, Ms. Vim. And my medical and engineering skills will be put to the test on this crusade you have all undertaken.”
Oona flinched. “Arty, are you okay?”
“Yes, madam. Of course. Why do you ask?”
“You just repeated what Octavian said.”
"Madam, I did not. I translated for you just as I've been doing the past few minutes. Therefore, I must ask: Are you okay?”
“I think so,” she replied, staring at the cog. “Don’t translate Octavian’s next statement.”
“As you wish, madam.”
“Octavian, say ‘something, something, and something’ for me.”
The cog did as she asked, and while Oona heard the sequence of beeps, she also understood what he’d said perfectly.
“I can understand you,” she told him, shaking her head. “So apparently, I have unlocked yet another new ability today.”
Octavian nodded. “Congratulations, Ms. Vim. Though it seems a small accomplishment to celebrate.”
She shrugged. “It might prove useful later. Besides, each time I do something new it presents an opportunity to learn how my powers work and where they might lead.”
“It hardly seems as significant or promising as what you did with the snub pistol,” he said with beeps and clicks, though it simultaneously came into her mind as Terran speech, much as Artemisia’s voice did.
“Do you have an engineering perspective on how that happened?”
“Yes, Ms. Vim. You somehow unleashed a tiny burst of hyperphasic energy which caused the pistol’s entire power pack to discharge in one go, exceeding all safety protocols and design parameters. You are fortunate the pistol did not explode in your hand. According to my calculations, that is what would happen 99.7 percent of the time.”
The cog bowed awkwardly. “Pardon me, Ms. Vim, but I need to perform a full scan of Zetta and the snake creature before we dump them into space.”
As he turned to go, she stopped him. “Wait, Octavian, do you wish that your vocalizer was active?”
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