by S. J. Madill
Bucky sighed. "Okay, fine." He paused to rub his eyes. How the hell would that even work? Small talk with a trained killer? It was just his fatigued mind not cooperating. He needed to either go back to bed, or to wake up properly. "Fine," he repeated. "I'm going to go start the coffee. I think Yaella might be up."
"Yeah, you could use a coffee," said Tal. "Or two or three."
"Thanks," said Bucky, turning away. "Smartass."
He headed back up the corridor. His mind was still trying to replay the previous night, mixed with imagined conversations with Lanari that all ended poorly, but his thoughts were a tired and confused jumble.
When he passed by the side corridor leading to the escape pods, he was surprised to see Yaella at the end. She was kneeling in front of Ocean and the two were talking. "Hey," said Bucky. It was the best his brain could manage.
"Hey," replied Yaella, who didn't turn to look.
Whatever. Bucky just shrugged and kept going. When he turned toward the lights of the galley, the smell of coffee called to him.
* * *
Yaella was already awake, debating the merits of getting up, when she heard the dull sound of a door opening. Bucky's door, by the sound of it. He'd been the last one to go to bed when they'd got back last night. She wasn't even sure when he'd turned in; it must've been after she'd fallen asleep.
After she'd emerged from having a shower — going first, as was her god-given right as Captain — Tal had met her in the passageway with a mug full of compost: bits of leaves and twigs, and some strange moss. "Just add water," he'd said with a smile, so she did. She didn't remember falling asleep, but it must've been quick.
And the dreams she'd had… She couldn't remember the last time she'd remembered a dream, let alone one so extravagant. Riding an old-fashioned train across a multicoloured landscape while a group of paisley suns chased each other across the sky. Flowers spun like pinwheels, and the grass looked like fur. She'd never been to a mystic to have her dreams interpreted, but she had a pretty good idea what they'd say about this one: lay off the weird alien compost before bed.
The images from the dream were still playing in her mind as she got up and turned on the lights. Neatly folding her unicorn-pattern pyjama bottoms, she sleepily pulled on whatever pants and shirt she'd laid out for herself the night before. Early-Morning Yaella depended on Late-Night Yaella to keep her mornings from spinning into chaos. Her boots were gleaming — she didn't remember cleaning them — and after she pulled them on she grabbed her jacket and headed out the door.
Almost noon, and the ship was still in darkness. Dr. Munshaw kept weird hours, but the Handmaiden was almost always the first one up in the morning. Maybe she was in her cabin, doing her meditation or prayer or whatever.
Down the passageway and across the intersection, Yaella headed to the galley. The coffee machine sat in darkness on the counter. Bucky was up, but hadn't started it? She smiled; people should be anticipating the Captain's needs.
She stretched up to grab the container of beans — the expensive stuff, reserved for early-morning emergencies — and carefully poured them into the top of the machine. It came to life when she pressed a button, and started its own morning routine of whirring motors and gurgling pumps that would, eventually, result in a cup of coffee. She hated coffee, but it woke her up and some mornings that was all that mattered. She shuffled back out of the galley.
Turning up the passageway toward the cockpit, she heard Bucky and Taliesin talking. Their hushed, urgent tones made her curious. Probably none of my business. To her right, she saw Ocean kneeling in the well-lit escape pod. She walked over and knelt in front of him; the deck was hard on her knees.
Ocean's eyes opened, those black pools staring at her. "Captain," he said. He sounded weary.
"Hey," she said in return. "Good morning. How're you doing?"
He seemed to take a while to think about that. She wondered if he had to wait for his machines to get back to him with a status report or something. "I am well, thank you. Tired."
The slump of his shoulders was a new look for him. All the time she'd known him, he'd had the same posture, the same energy level. "Yeah," she said. "You never get tired. What's the deal with that?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "The 'deal'?"
She nodded toward the rear of the ship. "Back there," she said. "At Canteen. When you opened the lock on the warehouse…" She watched him for a reaction. Nothing. "Look," she said. "You said you were experienced with opening locks."
He nodded. "I did."
"Yeah. So… by the way, would you mind blinking once in a while? It's weird."
He blinked, very deliberately. "Better?"
She sighed. "Yes, thank you. Anyway, I thought you had experience in opening locks. You just used your machines, didn't you?"
"Yes and yes." He blinked again, somehow managing to make it look unnatural.
"So how did that work? Did your machines turn the lock into more machines? Did they—"
"No," he interrupted. "My machines will not replicate. I insist on it. If they replicated out of control, they could consume the planet." He shook his head. "No. The machines disassembled the lock using their internal power. Hundreds were spent in doing so."
"Oh." That made a bit more sense. "And is that why you've been tired since then?"
"Partly."
She stared at him for a while. He kept his eyes locked on hers, blinking at regular intervals, but said nothing. "And…?" she prompted.
"And what, Captain?"
By the Divines, he could be difficult sometimes. "If that's partly why you've been tired, what's the rest of it?"
"During the exchange of gunfire between Bucky and the Canteen guards, a projectile struck the corner of the building. A fragment hit me in the neck."
"What? Are you serious?" She leaned forward. "Where? Are you—"
"I am fine," he said quietly. He reached up a hand, and his long fingers pulled back the collar of his black tunic. He didn't react as she leaned closer, her fingertips examining the side of his neck. "Where, Ocean? Seriously?" His skin was smooth, and warm to the touch. Neither his neck nor his clothes had a mark on them.
"The machines repaired it," he said. "It only took a few seconds. It drained a lot of energy." He kept watching her as she leaned back. "That is the reason for my fatigue."
Yaella sat a moment, frowning at him. "By the Divines, Ocean. Why didn't you say anything? Let us know you'd been injured? Bucky was right there with you. He could've—"
"He could have what, Captain?"
For someone with so little emotion, his dark eyes said a lot. He wasn't being snarky; it sounded like a sincere question. What would any of them have done? Panic? Run in circles? "I don't know—"
"There was nothing to be done, Captain. It didn't affect the mission. I could still move and function. I was just… tired" He blinked again, as if he'd just remembered to. "It doesn't matter."
Yaella leaned forward, putting one hand on his shoulder. What kind of captain am I? Someone on my team gets hurt, and I didn't even know? "But it does matter, Ocean. I don't want anyone getting hurt. I don't want you getting hurt."
"But it doesn't matter what happens to me."
She frowned again. "Bullshit. You're a member of my crew." She squeezed his shoulder. "You're my friend. My weird friend, yes, but still…" She stopped herself. "So what's going on? Something about it bothered you?"
He was silent a while, as if thinking of whether or not to say anything. "For a moment," he said calmly, "I felt something. Pain. Real pain. But the machines smoothed it over. Reminded me that it's not real. That I'm not real."
"What? Of course you are."
He shrugged again. "I'm not alive. I'm an insult to life." His eyes looked back into hers. There was no more emotion than usual, but there was an earnestness. "My people are dead. I should be dead, too. But I'm not, because a bunch of little machines had a guilty conscience. It's all a sick joke."
"It's not a joke,
" she said.
Behind her, she heard Bucky walking by. "Hey," he said.
She didn't look back. "Hey," she replied. She returned her attention to Ocean. "You said you wanted to know what happened to your people. Right?"
"It sounds pointless, doesn't it?"
"No. It sounds like a reason to keep going."
"So why are you bringing me along, Captain? What's in it for you?"
"For crying out loud, call me Yaella. And why does there have to be something in it for me? Not everything is a transaction, you know. You're looking for your people. I'm looking for my people. So it feels—"
"But you're going to find your people. My people are all long dead."
She stared into his eyes; her mind threw dark ideas in her way. What if the hybrids were all dead too? All her people, gone like his? What would she do then? "Well," she ventured. "Let's find out what happened to your people, then we'll see." She searched his eyes for a reaction. "Deal?"
She wanted a reaction from him. A hug. A smile. Anything.
But he just sat there, motionless, his eyes on hers. "Thank you, Captain."
She sighed. "You gonna be okay?"
"Yes. I only need to rest."
"Okay. Anything I can do to help?"
"Light and heat are all I need."
"Are you sure? I mean—"
She was interrupted by noise coming from the galley.
"Captain!" called Dr. Munshaw.
* * *
Bucky let his nose guide him to the galley. Talking to Tal always had the same effect: he came away feeling like he understood things better at first, but the longer he thought about it the more confused he became.
When he entered the galley, he paused. Dr. Munshaw was leaning against the counter, eyes closed, a mug of coffee in his hand. "Oh," said Bucky. "Good morning, Doc."
The Doctor's eyes popped open. "Ciao," he said sleepily. "How're you doing?"
"Ugh," Bucky grunted. He didn't really feel like getting into it all again. He opened the cupboard and started searching for his mug.
"I see," said the Doctor. He slid sideways along the counter so Bucky could get at the coffee machine. "So I'm not the only one having an 'ugh' day."
"No," sighed Bucky. He fumbled with his mug, trying to get it under the machine's nozzle. His hands were clumsy when he was tired, and it was frustrating. "Damn thing."
"You didn't sleep either?"
"Nope." He got the mug where it needed to be, and pressed the button to start the machine. "Couldn't shut my brain off."
"Uh huh." Dr. Munshaw slid even further down the counter, making more room for Bucky. He nodded to the space beside him. "You look like you're gonna fall over."
Bucky turned around and leaned, then frowned at the coffee machine. "What's taking it so long?"
"I put more beans in it."
"Ah." Bucky looked sideways at the Doctor. "What're you thinking about?" he asked.
The Doctor was quiet a moment. "That droid in the warehouse. The whole thing was a waste of time."
"Oh," said Bucky. "No ideas?"
"Nope." The Doctor took a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. "How about you? What're you thinking about?"
Bucky made a face, as he started replaying it all in his head again. Talking to Tal hadn't really helped. He'd tried to call his dad before bed; despite the time on the ship, it would've been afternoon on New Canmore. But the comms networks were malfunctioning again, and he couldn't get through or even leave a message. He'd resolved to try again later, but in the meantime the questions kept burning in his mind. "There were people shooting at me last night."
"Ah," said the Doctor. The galley was quiet for a while. "You scared too?"
"Yes. Hell, yes." Bucky exhaled a shuddering breath. "What should I do?"
Dr. Munshaw shrugged. "I'm not that sort of doctor. Sorry." He took a long sip, and peered down into his mug. "But if it's like everything else in life, it'll fade. In a few days, the memory won't be so bad." Another shrug. "I hope so, anyway. Sorry. Guess I'm not good at advice—"
"No, no," interrupted Bucky. "It's something. Thanks."
"Welcome." The Doctor gestured toward the door with his mug. "For what it's worth, your friend Taliesin has some plants that'll really help you sleep."
"Yeah," said Bucky. "Gives me messed-up dreams, though." He leaned forward to get a better look down the passageway. No one was there. "So, uh…" he began. He changed his mind several times before continuing. "Have you ever spoken to the Handmaiden?"
"As much as anyone, I guess. What's up?"
The coffee machine spat its last few drops, and Bucky retrieved his mug. Once again, the machine had overfilled it. As he delicately raised it to his lips, he saw the Doctor's bearded face smiling. "What's so funny?"
"Huh?" The Doctor was caught off guard. "Oh. Uh, that," he said, nodding at Bucky's overfull mug. "Anyway. You were asking about Handmaiden Lanari?"
"Yeah." Bucky took a long, careful drink. The coffee was surprisingly good today. "So, uh… she said I did a good job."
"Yeah. I heard that."
"And sometimes she comes to hang out in the cockpit at night. We don't talk much, really. We just watch the hockey game."
The Doctor was taking an interest. "Go on."
Bucky was having second thoughts again. "So, uh… I mean, she's kind of mysterious…"
"True."
"And, I mean, she's amazing to watch, you know?"
Doctor Munshaw snorted, like he was trying to suppress a laugh. "Wow."
Bucky felt the heat rising to his face. "Uh, maybe I've shared too much."
"No, no. I get it. I'm not blind, you know. Hell, I was young once, if you can believe that. You're wondering if she's interested in you." He grinned. "Maybe pass her a note in geography class?"
Now Bucky wished he hadn't said anything. "Never mind." He stood up from the counter. "I'm gonna—"
"Seriously though," said the Doctor. "She's the one you should be talking to. What's the worst that could happen?"
Bucky frowned. "She beats me half to death, and the next few weeks on the ship are unbelievably awkward?"
The Doctor's smile turned into a smirk. "Yeah, I guess that could happen."
Bucky rolled his eyes. "Never mind," he sighed. "I can see I'm just wasting everyone's time." He took a step toward the doorway.
"Wait," said the Doctor.
Bucky turned around.
The smirk was gone from Dr. Munshaw's face. He was staring at Bucky, his eyes narrowed. "That's it! That has to be it. How goddamned idiotic."
"Doc? What're you—"
Mug in hand, Dr. Munshaw shoved off the counter and stormed out into the passageway. "Captain!" he called.
* * *
Yaella stood up at the sound of the Doctor calling for her. "Shin sa en-fedor," she muttered.
Dr. Munshaw appeared in the corridor to the cockpit, coming to an abrupt halt when he saw her. A confused-looking Bucky was right behind him.
"What's going on?" asked Yaella. "It's a bit early to—"
The Doctor waved her off. "I need to see your navigation… thing."
"What?" She wished she had a coffee too; the smell of it wasn't helping. "Okay, c'mon," she said, stepping past the Doctor. "Tal!" she called ahead to the cockpit. "Bring up the nav computer, will you?"
She entered the cockpit, stepped up on the centre console, and dropped into the pilot's seat. Behind her, Bucky sat in the engineer's seat.
Tal smiled at everyone. "Oh, hey. Good morning." He returned his gaze to the dashboard. "Nav system. Here you go."
The screen changed to show a wide starfield, with indicators popping up to identify specific systems. A little graphic of a happy face showed the Blue Guardian's current position.
Dr. Munshaw was leaning over the centre console, squinting at the screen. Bucky sat in the engineer's seat, looking embarrassed for some reason. Ocean's dark shape stood in the passageway.
"Okay," said the Doctor. "Than
k you, Taliesin. Could you show me the ten closest systems to Canteen, in order?"
"Sure," shrugged Tal. He poked at the screen for a few moments, and an ordered list appeared. Ten system names, with distances and travel times.
"That one," said the Doctor. He pointed at the system second from the bottom. "We need to go there."
"Uh…" Tal looked at Yaella. "Chief? Do we?"
Yaella shrugged; she had no idea anymore. "Sure. Hit it."
Tal hesitated a moment, then nodded and turned back to his controls. "Okey dokey. Setting course for weirdly-random system—"
"It's not random," said the Doctor. "It's obvious. The Planet Killer left that thing behind to waste everyone's time. Specifically to waste everyone's time. It knew they'd all fight over the damn thing, and in the meantime no one would be following it."
Yaella raised her eyebrows. "No one but us?"
"Exactly. No one but us." The Doctor took a swig of coffee. "The Planet Killer is either idiotic, or brilliant. Maybe both. It has a cynical view of human nature. It thinks human are idiots." A grim smile. "It's not wrong."
Tal gave a last poke at the dash console. "Okay, Chief. ETA at random idiocy is thirteen-forty-five tomorrow. Gotta admit, it does sound like our kind of place."
"Trust me," said the Doctor. "It's obvious."
Yaella was sideways in her seat, one arm hooked over the headrest. "Sure, Doc." She watched his face. He'd told her to look like she had a plan, even when she didn't. She wondered if that's what he was doing now.
She saw the Doctor pause; the silent white Handmaiden had appeared in the corridor behind him. Dr. Munshaw looked at Lanari, then at Bucky, then back at Lanari. Something was making Bucky blush. What the hell is that about?
"Thirteen-forty-five tomorrow," called the Doctor as he turned down the passageway. "All we need is a nice, quiet day today." He waved over his shoulder. "I'll be in my cabin."
Yaella puffed her cheeks and exhaled, shaking her head at the four other people still in the cockpit with her. All eyes turned in her direction.
"Don't look at me," she said. "I have no idea."
Chapter Nineteen
Zura strode through her outer office, acknowledging with a wave the staff officers standing at attention as she passed. She was earlier than usual, and most of them were already at their desks.
