by C H Gideon
“That’s the spirit,” Reynolds said, patting her on the shoulder. “Those other knuckleheads are passed out in their hovercabs. They’re not exactly the be-all-you-can-be types. When they wake up, they won’t remember coming aboard. My bots dumped them on the tarmac with their hovercabs. There are no Larians left aboard besides you. We still have your cab. I feel like we’re going to need that.”
Jiya muffled a chuckle with the back of her hand. She was glad Reynolds had seen the lack of potential in her boneheaded co-workers. It wasn’t just her. The very last thing she wanted to do was spend more time with Magni and Rictor.
“All right, let’s go find you a crew,” Jiya told the AI.
Chapter Five
Reynolds led Jiya through the massive ship—through him, actually, which really wasn’t how she wanted to think about it—to what was apparently a crew lounge. He waved her inside.
A large table sat near the back corner, comfortable chairs all around. A large viewscreen rose out of the center of the table. Reynolds gestured in that direction.
“Have a seat,” he told her.
She shrugged and made to flop into the nearest chair.
Reynolds shouted, catching her in half-squat. “Not there! That seat’s taken.”
Jiya eased up, casting a glance over her shoulder at what appeared to be an empty chair. “Uh, okay…” She moved to the one next to it.
Reynolds' voice sounded from the seat. “Not this one either, cabbie. Find your own. I’m not sharing.”
“Neither am I,” Reynolds’ voice called from another chair.
Jiya glared at the speaking chairs in turn, then she shared that glare with the bot. “Are any of these chairs not taken by the other yous?”
The bot pointed at one right in front of the viewscreen. “That one is open.”
After throwing a casual stink-eye in his direction, she dropped into the proffered seat. “Can we at least do introductions, so I know which you is you?”
“We’re all me,” the chair next to her answered.
“Not helping,” Jiya replied. “You’re going to give me whiplash trying to keep up.”
“I suppose you’re right,” the bot conceded. “The chair to your right is Executive Officer Reynolds, my second-in-command. To his right is Tactical…”
Jiya sighed. “And who’s to my left?”
“That’d be Comm.”
“Navigation is on the other side,” the bot said.
The far chair called out a howdy.
“Helm is absent,” Reynolds said. “Probably asleep at the wheel.”
“And you’re the captain?” she asked the bot.
“We’re all captain,” Tactical answered. “He’s Lance Reynolds, but as the captain and the ship, he’s just called Reynolds.”
Jiya slumped in her seat. “Can we get on with this?” she told them, hoping the sooner she got a real crew in place, the sooner the split-personality AI could pull itself together. Literally.
Emphasis on hope.
“Someone’s in a hurry, I see,” Tactical said, adding a little reverb for sass.
The viewscreen came to life, and Jiya leaned back in her chair in surprise as an orbital view of a looming planet appeared. Enthralled by the brilliant blues and greens on the screen, she realized after only a moment that the screen showed her homeworld of Lariest.
It hung in space, the image too clear and precise to be a holovid or picture.
Then it struck her.
“Wait a second! When did we end up in space?” She spun around to face the bot. “You took off before I said yes?”
“Call me an optimist.” Reynolds shrugged awkwardly.
“Oh, hell, you have got to be kidding me,” she shouted, jumping to her feet and marching over to the bot. She jabbed it in the chest with her index finger. “I can’t believe you did this!” Then she dipped her head to the side. “Did you just kidnap me for the second time in one day? Of course, you did.”
Jiya growled, storming back to her seat. She refused to sit, though.
“Here’s the deal, Reynolds,” Jiya started. “If you want me to work with you, to help you find a good crew, we need to come to an understanding.”
“Oh, here we go,” Tactical mumbled.
“Stow it,” Navigation told him. “She has a right to speak her piece.”
The bot raised its hand in surrender. “I vote we listen.”
“Are you all done?”
“The pulpit’s yours,” XO replied. “Preach on, sister!”
“Good,” she spat. “Look, you can’t just jerk me around like I’m some sort of meaty marionette—”
“Interesting visual,” Tactical muttered, “but I wonder if meat puppet might be a bit more apropos to—”
“Shut it,” the Reynolds bot told him, pointing a stubby finger at the empty seat.
Jiya continued as if they hadn’t interrupted, “There need to be ground rules. I need a say in what happens to me, like whether I leave a planet. I expect you to treat me like part of the crew—with respect.”
“Those last two are a bit contradictory if you ask me,” Tactical stated.
“Anyway,” Jiya said, clearing her throat and wondering how the hell she ended up on a spaceship with an asshole like Rictor, only in AI form. “My point is, I’m not a tool to be whipped out and used and then cast aside when you’re done. I’m a Larian, flesh and blood, a living being, and I need to be treated as such. I need to be involved in the decisions that affect me. Is that clear? Are we on the same page, Reynolds?”
“You’re right,” the bot said, “and we apologize. We’re on the same page, I assure you, so, please sit down and relax. We promise to behave.”
Jiya glared at the bot for a moment longer before conceding and flopping into her seat. She leaned back and steepled her fingers, shifting her gaze around the table at the invisible AIs—feeling stupid for doing it.
“So, I’m guessing by the empty chairs around the big table that you need a complete crew: pilot, XO, Tactical, Comm, Navigation, Helm, and Security, but not Captain, right?”
“Give or take a few positions, correct. Some of those I can handle on my own.”
She nodded. “I’m also guessing you want them all right away?”
“We are on a mission—an important one—so yes, the quicker, the better,” the bot replied.
“Okay, then I have some candidates for you, like I told you earlier. These people will be perfect.”
“As long as you understand we get final approval on your selections,” the bot told her, “and…I will be going with you to recruit them.”
Jiya raised an eyebrow. “I understand oversight and whatnot, and I’m okay with that since it is your ship…but do you have any clue what you look like?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the way I look.” The bot glanced down at itself, running its hands over its sleek metallic frame. “It’s all about the chrome, baby.”
“Exactly,” Jiya said. “Your gleaming metal ass won’t get past port security, let alone be allowed to wander the streets. And these people I have in mind, they’re kind of in the same boat as me with regards to my father, as in, they’re in the doghouse—the castaways. You won’t get anywhere near them in that hunk of bolts you’re wearing, and they sure as hell won’t be allowed off-planet with you.”
“Well, the crew and I discussed jacking one of the automated hovercabs and plugging me into the body of the android driver.”
“That’s not the worst idea I’ve heard,” Jiya told him. “Still, we’d have to get hold of one first, then defeat the security protocols because the cab company keeps constant tabs on their drivers. They’d notice one missing pretty quick if we simply grabbed one and ran off with it.”
The Reynolds bot nodded. “We could pull it off, right, XO?”
“Yeah,” XO replied. “Probably. No, let me go with a definite maybe.”
“Don’t worry, I know how to make it work. I’ll need some equipment, though.”
>
The bot nodded. “Fine, we’ll give you whatever you need, but first, I want to discuss these candidates you have in mind, Jiya.”
“Not to be an instigator…” Navigation said, interrupting their discussion.
“What’s on your mind, Navigation?” XO asked.
“We’re conceding a lot to this meatbag. No offense, of course,” Navigation said.
“A little taken,” Jiya responded, sneering. “But, please, continue and let’s see if you can be more offensive.”
“We’re conceding an awful lot here, surrendering a bunch of control to her and the crew she picks out, but what do we know about her? What are her qualifications?”
“Good question,” XO agreed. “What do we know about her?”
The Reynolds bot gestured to Jiya. “They’re not wrong to wonder. Care to tell us why we should allow you aboard and let you help choose our crew?”
Jiya chuckled. “You mean besides you getting me onboard through subterfuge and then kidnapping me?”
“Uh…let’s stick to the specifics of the job, please,” the bot hedged. “Mistakes may have been made in our initial engagement with the alien—I mean, with the Larian called Jiya. We admit this. We brought you aboard because you had spark and—”
“Because you reminded him of someone,” Tactical clarified.
“I told you not to mention that,” the bot hissed at Tactical’s chair, although the sound was more like a steam valve letting loose.
“Dare I ask?” Jiya questioned.
“Probably best not to,” Comm answered. Jiya sank deeper into her chair, shaking her head.
“Anyway, we saw potential in you,” the bot went on. “However, it would be good to know more about you.”
Jiya sighed and paused for a moment, waiting for a snide remark. When none came, she straightened and met the bot’s eyes, seeing as how she really felt stupid talking to empty chairs. She felt only marginally less so talking to the chrome humanoid-shaped bot.
“So, cards on the table here, I’m more than a cab driver and pilot.”
“I knew it!” Navigation shouted. “She’s a Kurtherian spy out to sabotage us and steal all our protein bars.”
“Wait,” Jiya replied, throwing her hands in the air. “What the hell is wrong with you? I told you earlier that I don’t even know who or what the Kurtherians are.”
“Likely story, spy,” Navigation told her. “You’d be a pretty crappy spy if you admitted it.”
“She’s not a spy,” XO told Navigation.
“Let her talk,” the bot said. “We’re not going to learn anything if some twitchy, paranoid AI keeps jumping in every thirty seconds.”
“Just shut the hell up, all of you,” Jiya shouted, slamming her fist on the table. “Seriously, if you want me here, you have to stop the madness.” She wagged a finger around the circle, pointing first to the bot and then to the “occupied” seats. “Keep this craziness up and I’ll jump off this ship, even if we’re still in space.”
Jiya rubbed her eyes and counted back from ten. By the time she reached one she wasn’t any less annoyed, but she could at least talk again. She cleared her throat. “Okay, so first off, not a spy.” She jabbed a finger in Navigation’s direction. “I’m actually the daughter of the president of Lariest, President Lemaire,” she explained, turning her finger to the viewscreen showing her beautiful homeworld.
“So you’re a pampered little rich girl?” Tactical asked.
“I wish,” Jiya moaned. “You see, Daddy and I don’t get along so well.”
“What did he do, cut off your allowance?” Tactical teased.
“No, he cut off my entire life after investing a fortune to get me ready for it,” she replied. “In fact, if he knew I was up here, off-world, he’d send a destroyer to reclaim me just out of spite.”
The bot chuckled. “We’d send it back in pieces.”
“Little ones,” Comm confirmed. “Sparkly bits of space dust raining down atop his presidential palace.”
To her surprise, Jiya grinned. She could picture it, and the thought amused her.
“So, famous daughter with daddy issues. What else you got going on?” Navigation asked. “So far, I’m thinking she’s perfect for latrine duty.”
She sneered in his direction. “I’ve had as much arms training as was possible for a civilian, along with hand-to-hand combat starting at age four. While other kids learned musical instruments, I was beating the crap out of leather bags.
“Anyway, I’ve had private tutors my whole life—advanced studies in just about every subject—and I’ve spent the last few years training to join the military.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Until my father tanked my application behind the scenes. See, he thought I’d grown too hostile. Entitled, even. I think he got it into his head that if I served in the military, I might rise to high enough rank to challenge his leadership. So, they told me I was too volatile and hostile, and that I hadn’t passed their entry exams. I know he told them to reject me.”
“Hostile?” Navigation asked. “You don’t say!”
She spun in her seat and glared at his chair. Then, without so much as a tell, she whipped a small metal tube out of her pocket and snapped it in the chair’s direction. It clacked, expanding rapidly into a long bō staff. The tip hovered just inches from the back of the seat.
The chair leapt backward with a screech, falling onto its back, the resulting thump echoing through the lounge.
“Ha!” Navigation shouted. “You missed me.”
“I wouldn’t have if you had a face,” Jiya replied, spinning the staff around and retracting it with a snap. She stuffed it back into her pocket.
“I thought you searched her,” the bot asked.
“Me?” XO replied. “How the hell was I supposed to do it? You’re the one with hands.”
“That’s beside the point.”
“That’s exactly the point,” XO told him.
“Moving on,” the bot said, motioning to Jiya. “So, it seems you’re qualified after all, which is good.” The bot leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I’d have looked like a real idiot if you hadn’t been. Whew.” He patted her on the shoulder and took a step back.
“Yeah, that would have done it,” she answered, shaking her head. “So, yeah, if I’ve satisfied your curiosity, can we get on with finding you the rest of your crew?”
“Sure,” the bot replied. “You said you had some people in mind?”
She nodded and tapped the viewscreen, bringing up a menu. “I have a few. Take a look.”
Chapter Six
“Is this really the plan?” the Reynolds bot asked.
“Got a better one?” Jiya pressed, staring out past the tarmac at the rows of Jonny taxis bustling back and forth, carrying their fares to and from the port.
The bot shrugged. “Not one that doesn’t involve turning the destructive firepower of my superdreadnought self on their asses and picking an android body out of the wreckage.”
“Case in point, Reynolds—the idea is to blend in, not stand out,” Jiya told him. “We need to be subtle.”
“And your plan is subtle?” he asked.
“Subtle-ish,” she answered. “I mean, we’re not exactly being given the opportunity to be surgical here. It’s really the best of our options.”
“I’m going to have to take your word for that,” he replied. “It’s your world, after all. You know best.”
“If only.” Jiya chuckled. “Anyway, you ready to do this?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“That’s the spirit,” she replied, popping open the passenger door to her cab and ushering the bot inside. “You’ll have to duck out of sight.”
“So you’ve told me twenty or thirty times already. I’ve got it.”
“Can’t have the authorities see you,” she reminded him. “That happens and they come down on us and realize who I am and what’s going on, we’re going to have some serious explaining to d
o.”
“Daddy doesn’t like his girl showing initiative?”
“He doesn’t like me doing anything that doesn’t help him stay in office, which generally means me staying quiet and out of sight. After my lesson in humility, of course, so homeless and jobless seems to be his preference. This definitely doesn’t fit into either of those categories,” she said. “If the news picks up on the story of me collaborating with an unknown alien species to subvert the economic stability of Lariest in defiance of my father—”
“We’re kidnapping an android,” Reynolds jumped in. “That’s hardly subverting the economy. What’s one cab going AWOL?”
“That’s not how the vultjournalists will see it,” Jiya answered.
“I see what you did there, combining the words ‘vulture’ and ‘journalist.’ Witty.”
“It loses its impact if you shine a light on it,” she told him, shaking her head.
“I guess it does. Let’s go.” He clambered into the hovercab and hunkered down behind the seat as she shut the door and circled around the other side. He barely fit.
She hopped in and started the cab. “You’d think your skin would be thicker because—”
“Because I’m a bot, and I’m metal?”
“You’re stepping all over my jokes today, buddy.”
“I do what I can,” Reynolds retorted.
The hovercab shot across the tarmac, dodging port workers who either ignored her or gave her a single-finger salute, which she returned with a laugh. On the street, she merged with the autocab traffic, slowing to evaluate her prey once she was out on the open road.
The android drivers stared straight ahead, only noting her presence in the most perfunctory way. If she wasn’t waving them down for a ride, they didn’t care.
And while that might have been the easiest way to get them to pull over for her, she knew their operating procedures. The second a fare flagged one of the Jonny taxis down, the android reported it across the system. Worse still, it triggered the vehicle’s security protocols.
