by S. E. Smith
The plan was as solid as he could make it. It was simple in concept—and complex because of how the enemy might respond—but he’d considered and planned for most variables. That he could foresee them was a skill he’d been born with. That it was also the reason he’d ended up a slave of the Master was unfortunate, but he wasn’t a slave anymore. And this plan should ensure that he and his crewmates continued to be free…if it worked. The risks were great, the outcome in doubt.
That was the problem with plans. No matter how carefully he planned, stuff happened. As a robot he’d been able to react swiftly to rapidly changing dynamics. This body was much slower, but he couldn’t have executed this plan in his previous unit. And the only reason this human body had a chance was because of its cyborg enhancements.
You are welcome.
The AI, Nelson had come with the enhancements. Or the enhancements came with the AI. There was no question Nelson was key to making them work properly. But having a voice inside his head was an acquired taste—one Rap was still acquiring. At least it didn’t have the same attachment to playlists as the other AIs in the outpost. So far, here, aboard the Najer was the only place where music wasn’t being piped almost continuously through the communication speakers.
Your plan is imperfect.
Nelson was correct—
I am always correct.
Rap didn’t dispute this. It felt too much like arguing with himself, even though he knew Nelson was a separate entity operating inside Rap’s head.
“It is all we have,” Rap pointed out, startled by the sound of his voice in the otherwise empty room. If not stopped, the Q’uy, and V’ruwak in particular, would move against them again, harder than the last time, and they’d barely survived that.
With a slight frown, he closed out the file and sent a copy to the captain’s console. Using his hands, instead of being directly connected to the computer, still felt clumsy and painfully slow.
I can create a connection for you. It won’t be quite the same, but it will be faster.
Nothing quite like being called slow by an AI. “Maybe later,” Rap said. He was unsure how he felt about using Nelson or giving up control. There was a sense of something from Nelson that could have been understanding. Rap was not sure.
I respect your ethical issues. It hesitated, then said, Snake was wondering if you had time to address some concerns.
Rap hid a sigh. He might miss the days when Snake’s hissing was just that—hissing. Now that Nelson could translate, he realized how much Snake said on a daily basis. He could understand Snake’s pent-up frustration and need to talk. She was the only one of the species that had been liberated from pirates, who had not had a chance to tell her story. She. Her. He’d thought Snake was a male for no reason he could explain.
“Didn’t you look under her tail?” Dr. Rachel Grant had asked, her gaze openly amused.
He’d shaken his head, rendered mute by the presence of two females. Even before becoming human, in the presence of females he tended to lose most of his ability to speak. Or to think.
This is true.
Rap ignored the interjection, but that didn’t make the truth go away. This left him at a considerable disadvantage with Snake. Before he could think of a response to her comments, she’d moved on to something else.
He gave a gesture of assent in Snake’s direction and the flow of hissing—words by Nelson—began to flow.
Thank goodness for Ale—AlebatorR, his old friend. Not that Rap had any idea how old AlebatorR was, but Rap had done many missions with him. Ale was highly experienced in the mission critical skills Rap needed right now. Rap needed him to be at his side for the plan. There’d be no surprises from good old Ale.
“Are you okay?”
Ale had been asked variations of this question since Dr. Rachel Grant had assisted in the process of transferring her human consciousness from her AlebatorR unit to her cloned body. By now she should have an answer. She should know what “okay” meant.
All right. Proceeding normally. Satisfactory or under control. Correct, permissible, or acceptable. Meeting standards. Well enough. Agreeable, all right, copacetic, ducky, fine, good, hunky-dory, jake, A-OK , palatable…
Ale repressed a sigh, hoping Jett did not notice. She was grateful for the accumulation of nanites that called itself Jett. It had assisted her greatly in this journey from machine to mostly human. Ale might be less grateful Jett loved rock and roll. It was a good thing the nanite could cure the headache it caused when it “rocked out.”
Just tell them you are fine, sweetie.
Ale considered this suggestion and realized she’d heard the phrase exchanged many times between the humans occupying this outpost in the Garradian Galaxy.
Um, you’re human, too, sweetie.
The other humans in this outpost, Ale mentally corrected, though the first felt closer to the truth. She did not yet feel like one of the humans.
“I am fine,” Ale said, watching Rachel from beneath her lashes. She might miss her previous unit’s ability to scan a target without looking at it.
Rachel’s not a target.
This was true, but it felt as if Ale were Rachel’s—problem. Jett had no comment for this, Ale noted.
I can neither agree nor disagree. Not enough data, sweetie.
Rachel had one hip propped against the counter that was part of the small kitchen in Ale’s current quarters. Normally a medical person would live there, but the quarters had been empty when Ale needed to leave the hospital bed and was not quite ready for wider interaction. Even with Jett’s help, Ale had struggled to control the cyborg enhancements that made her not completely human. Or a bit more human if she decided to look at it on the bright side.
Which you never do…
“It’s a lot to deal with,” Rachel had pointed out, when Ale exhibited frustration. “You’re coping with returning to your cloned body and leaving your unit, and, well, everything.”
It was true that returning to her body had been more difficult than she’d anticipated. But being watched by Rachel and her staff did not help. And being isolated from her crewmates like Rap…
She pushed that source of stress to the back of her mind. She was getting better at it.
When you have to do something that much, you’re not actually getting better.
Ale ignored this and lifted her chin so that her gaze met Rachel’s.
Rachel appeared to be relaxed, but her intent gaze belied that. Ale noted that Rachel’s body was imperfectly aligned with one hip jutted out and one foot tucked behind the other. It was common for the humans to do this, she realized.
Ale felt her own near-perfect alignment, from her rigidly straight spinal column to the careful arrangement of her feet. Her hands rested on her almost-touching knees, the fingers lightly flexed.
You need to lighten up. Relax.
Was it more comfortable to be out of alignment? Ale moved one hand forward and eased one foot back. The urge to restore both to a more balanced position caused the tips of her fingers to tremble.
You can do it, sister.
Ale twitched, not where it could be seen, but inside.
No, really, you got this.
Almost imperceptibly, Ale moved hand and foot back into place.
Maybe next time, sweetie.
Jett’s encouragement did not abate the spike of anxiety. This caused a flicker of metal to appear on the backs of her hands for a moment.
Rachel bit her lower lip, an indication Ale believed, of doubt.
“You are concerned that I am not yet stable and in control.” Ale angled her head as she’d seen other humans do. “Are you not?”
Rachel hesitated, then nodded. “You’re the only crew member, so far, who has returned to your own body.”
Ale felt her brows rise—a strange sensation—and said, “This is not my ‘own’ body, Rachel. That body died when I left it for my AlebatorR unit.”
“Returned to your cloned body,” Rachel corrected.
“How do you feel about that?”
“About becoming human once again?” Ale’s brows drew together. Rachel’s lack of precision was confusing.
If you think their words are confusing, you should see inside one of their heads.
Ale did not know how to respond to this interjection. She had been inside a human head before and currently was back inside…a human head. In contrast to her cybernetic unit, she could agree it was less orderly, bordering on chaotic.
Sorry.
Ale sensed Jett’s embarrassment. Now that was confusing. How could an AI, no matter how sentient, project emotion?
Didn’t you feel? You were an AI, too.
It was a fair question. She had felt, but she had not felt like this. And she had been a sentience inside her unit.
Um, so am I, girlfriend.
“Is my experience dissimilar from the others?” Ale asked.
“Yes…and no, I guess. They left bodies for their cybernetic units, but so far everyone else has chosen a new body, not a clone of who they used to be.”
“This concerns you?” Ale asked the question to deflect—or postpone—the moment Rachel asked why she had done this.
“Well, CabeX seemed surprised,” Rachel said.
The captain of the Najer, and the man who had saved her life, would be surprised by her choice. For that matter…
“I surprised myself,” Ale admitted. This was a version of the truth. She’d never expected or hoped to return to her old body. And when the chance came, she would have chosen another body, too. She’d had nothing but sorrow in her old body and it would be insane of her to return to Q’uy territory as herself, no matter how long it had been since her death. Only Jett, and the cyborg enhancements that came with the AI, made a return possible. They were protective, but they also allowed her to hide who she was. Now she held up one hand and called the metal plating out of her hand. It flowed across the back of her hand and up her fingers, the tiny platelets shimmered silver and blue in the room’s lighting. She stroked the metal composite with her human hand. It was not as strong as her robotic unit, but it was better than fragile human skin.
The Earth Expedition members had not encountered her kind—if there any of her kind left to encounter. It was possible she was the last of her species. She was not sure CabeX had known what she was when he offered her an escape, though in her experience CabeX always knew everything.
“Do you feel in control of the cybernetics now?” Rachel asked.
Ale looked up, held Rachel’s gaze as she hid the metal once again. She turned her hand, released some on her palm, then hid those again.
“Yes,” she said. The moments when anxiety brought them out were fewer, the breaches slight. She flexed the human fingers, feeling the movement of muscle under the skin. Jett had assisted her early on when Ale couldn’t make the enhancements retract, but now Ale could control them on her own. Ale did not know—and feared to ask—if Jett intended to leave at some point. Ale might find its taste in music unfortunate, but she had grown used to having the AI…around.
I heart you, too, sweetie.
Ale felt warmth around her heart. It was somewhat like the warmth she felt around Rap, though the sensation was also different.
You don’t have the hots for me.
There was no point having the, er, hots for Rap. He’d gained a human body but retained his inscrutability, and seemed mainly to care for his BoaConscript. As a human, she could admit she felt uneasy around the large creature. Unlike the other rescued species, Snake did not communicate with them.
She talks plenty. You just can’t understand her.
Snake’s hissing was communicating?
She digs you.
Ale was not certain what this meant.
She likes you.
Snake liked her. She supposed that was…optimal.
It is if you want to get close enough to jump Rap’s bones.
She didn’t—
Liar.
Ale turned her attention back to Rachel, wondering if she’d missed a question. Rachel did look puzzled, but her next comment somewhat alleviated Ale’s concern.
“I’ve—we’ve—noticed—” Rachel looked away, bit her lower lip, then returned her gaze to Ale’s, “—that you haven’t looked at yourself. Don’t you want to…see how you look?”
“I know how I look,” Ale said. Her last view of her human face had been burned into the databanks of her unit, and journeyed with her consciousness into this cloned body. Though it also felt strange, there was something familiar about the height and weight of this body. She remembered the things she had done. She knew what she’d lost in giving up her robot unit. She’d liked being powerful. The cyborg enhancements helped her retain some of that power, but not all, yet she’d chosen to do this, to go all the way back. Why had she risked so much?
The heart wants what the heart wants, girlfriend.
Ale resisted the urge to rub at the tiny ache over where her human heart beat. The last time she’d seen Rap was just before they began her transfer. In a way she did not understand, his new body suited Rap, though she had not seen his previous human form. Of course, the body was not as tall as his unit had been, but it had a powerful frame, a sharply carved face that felt as if it had emerged from the metal of his old frame. The face had distinct brows over intense brown eyes. Facial hair stubbled the area around his mouth—Ale’s mouth quivered before she could firm it—and a straight nose. His high forehead reached up to hair shaved short. He reminded her of the mercenaries—she cut the thought short when it caused her insides to heat up unexpectedly.
He’s a bad-A dude for sure. Jett’s tone was admiring. But he’s a marshmallow inside.
Ale might have frowned. What was a marshmallow?
Soft and sweet. Nelson says he’s way smarter than he looks.
Nelson was Rap’s AI. How did smart look? Ale wondered. As units, they’d all looked like, well, different kinds of robots. But she’d been the least smart of the crew.
Now don’t go brain-shaming, girlfriend. You’ve got some serious IQ in your brainbox.
Of course, linking her mind with an AI had enabled her to learn, but she’d been the only one to come to the crew without a specific skill set, the lone human who had left her only value behind with her body. She’d worked hard to perfect her battle skills because that was all she had to offer. Always she’d wondered, if CabeX had known who he pulled out of this body, would he still have saved her? She did not wish to know the answer to that question. There was no doubt in her mind that if V’ruwak had known she still lived, he’d have thrown every resource he possessed, including every robot in his inventory, into getting her back. But he hadn’t known.
She lifted a hand, tracing the curve of the now-human cheek. No, she did not need to see herself in a mirror to remember.
Ale eyed Rachel carefully, wondering how to phrase her next request, wondering if she really wanted it. But even if she didn’t, Rap needed her. They’d both received the cybernetic enhancements for the upcoming mission. The mission that everything important to her, and to him, hinged on.
Smile, sweetie.
Smile?
Let me help you out with that.
The edges of her mouth moved, the edges tipping up. After a nudge from Jett, Ale said, “I feel ready to return to the Najer now.”
Rap listened to all of Snake’s “concerns,” which seemed numerous and not all equally essential at this time and then talked to his friend about the mission one last time before he went to meet the captain in the ship’s ready room. This very human space had been an ignored room until the crew started to transition back into human form. Rap climbed two sets of ladders to get to the command deck, then turned a corner in the passage to the ready room and came face-to-face with a female.
They both stopped. She looked startled. His jaw dropped. His throat closed.
She was the kind of female that took processors offline. Her widened eyes were the green of a nebula, iridescen
t and mysterious. Vibrant titian hair was pulled up into a careless knot on top of her perfectly sculpted head. A straight nose sat above lips that—his brain quit working at even this minimal level, while his eyes cataloged a body well suited to the perfection of her face.
“Rap,” she said. Her rounded lips compressed into a sultry line that dried his throat and caused heat to suffice his body.
He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.
Your body’s key signs are indicating a high level of stress.
The metal nanites flared on the skin of his arms and hands, catching the light in black and silver patterns. His lips pursed as they tried to ask “who?” This time a croak broke the silence.
The lips curved in a smile that felt like it stopped his heart.
“I guess you wouldn’t recognize me,” she said. “I hardly recognize myself.” The chest—more heat flooded his extremities—rose and fell in a sigh. “I’m…Ale.”
Ale. The name reverberated through his frame. “You’re not…”
She shook her head, setting the titian curls dancing, light finding gold. “No, I’m not…male. I’m sorry. The captain thought it was better…” The words trailed off, and her gold-tipped lashes swept down over her eyes.
“Yes.” Now, when he could have used a little help, Nelson had gone mute, too. His gaze swept her from top to bottom and a thought penetrated the shock. “You’re…”
“Teimanein,” she said, giving a slow nod. “Well, half. A mongrel.”
Sadness marred the perfection of her eyes. Horror for her began to reduce the shock. The Teimaneins had been hunted almost, if not all the way, to extinction. Their beauty was legendary and their blood was said to hold the power of long life. Despite what his eyes told him, he could not make the connection between AlebatorR and this woman.
