by C. Gockel
“It was an honor, General.” Five filled 6T9’s mind with images of the mess of warship hulks and civilian vessels that hung in clusters beyond the gate. “There is still much work to do, but none of them are firing on me or Fleet,” Five said. “That situation is under control.”
In the same calm tones, Five added, “True Love is threatening to take legal action against me.”
6T9’s circuits shorted.
“But listen to how System 5 humans are responding to that,” Five continued.
The ether was flooded with shouts of, “We’ll boycott True Love if they do that!”
“Down with True Love!”
“Five for Mayor!”
“Five for President!”
“Five for Admiral of the Local Guard!”
A child’s voice whispered, “Thank you, Time Gate 5.”
And was followed by a cry of, “Five, marry me!”
The shouts, cries, and soft whispers of thanks blended together into an unintelligible blur of sound that faded to Five’s own voice. “That has never happened to any gate, ever.” There was a pause, a flow of electricity where no data was exchanged, and then Five added, “It is good to have the system’s humans connected to the ether again. I hadn’t realized how much I do not like the silence, how much I gained from the humans. Thank you, General.”
Five disconnected, and 6T9 was left with the roar of warships, hovers, and ambulance sirens. His Q-comm was humming, and circuits within his body that were usually only active when he fulfilled his primary function were alight. Had he found a new function, or had he just fulfilled his primary function at a higher level? A sex ‘bot’s raison d’être was to help humans, after all. He looked down at the Luddeccean, sleeping despite 6T9’s current ghoulish appearance, and had the same charge he got in afterglow.
For a moment, his circuits blazed, and he thought that he might be experiencing an android version of transcendence. He felt utterly complete. Listening idly to the ether, he cataloged the events that brought him here. It had started with Eliza giving him a Q-comm and ended with him not sure if he could restrain himself from killing a man Volka was emotionally and telepathically ensnared with. Could he ever be comfortable with that? Did he have to be?
He glanced over at Davies. The man wasn’t interested in 6T9 sexually, but he did accept that 6T9 was an android. He did accept what 6T9 had done to achieve this brief moment of peace. It was a reminder that 6T9 could find someone else, someone else who wouldn’t have telepathic entanglements.
An ambulance siren very close snapped him from his musings. His eyes fell on the Infected bodies on the roof, and he suddenly had more immediate, pressing worries.
36
Pressing Worries
Galactic Republic: Time Gate 5
Holding FET12’s hand, Volka looked around her in wonder. They appeared to be on a balcony with marble railings. A domed roof was above them. It was lit by a brilliant ball of light, very much like a sun. The dome itself ranged in color from sky blue to midnight. She tried to pull her hand from FET12’s to take a step closer to the rail, but he clasped her hand more tightly, holding her back. She wasn’t sure if the shy android was afraid for her or for himself and didn’t try again.
A bright sparkle appeared at her wrist, and she started. FET12 had included the ethernet-to-speech bracelet on her “avatar” wrist, and it was now sparkling quite dramatically.
FET12 made a sort of sigh.
From Volka’s wrist came a cheery, “Hello, Ms. Volka, it is so nice to see you again!” from the device.
“Bracelet?” Volka whispered. She hesitated. How to distinguish between the kind and well-meaning device on her wrist and the sometimes unkind but brave Bracelet that had once had a Q-comm? “Is that … the real you?”
“Hmmm … that is a philosophically complex question,” Bracelet replied. “One that it would be best to put aside for now, as very important matters are about to be discussed in the meeting below.”
Volka’s ears perked, and she smirked. It was definitely the Q-comm version of Bracelet. Heeding the advice, Volka leaned over the balcony. Peering below, she saw a sort of meeting room with a grand circular table of marble. Seated at it was a man—or android—made of chrome. His perfectly muscled torso was bare and gleaming in the artificial sunlight.
“That is Time Gate 5. He is hosting this virtual meeting,” FET12 whispered. “He’s given himself an avatar.”
Bracelet whispered, “It’s quite eccentric. I’ve only heard of Gate 33 doing that.”
“What is this?” The question came from Volka’s left, and she jumped. An exact replica of the chrome man was standing beside her, but he was also still below speaking to a man—or android—who had just materialized. As Volka understood it, managing two conversations at once was as difficult for androids as humans—they had limits on their processing power. Usually.
FET12 withdrew further into his hoodie, but Bracelet replied perkily, “Why, it is myself, of course, Miss Volka, and FET12.”
“Miss Volka is etherless,” the chrome man said. Up close, she could see his facial features were also perfectly modeled. He had full lips, sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and wide eyes. His hair was a thick, neat wave.
Bracelet replied, “Oh, she has access to a holomat. FET12 must be projecting everything he’s observing via Q-comm on the mat so she can see this meeting while simultaneously projecting an avatar of her—with an avatar of me on her wrist that he unfortunately didn’t get right at all. He didn’t give my form the glow it normally has—the gleam, the glimmer, the radiance.”
FET12 whispered, “Miss Volka wanted to see Sixty, and you announced he’d be here.”
Volka’s ears sagged. Her last meeting with Sixty had been … well, she knew things were unsaid. But she still worried about him, she still wanted to see him.
The chrome man that was Time Gate 5 replied flatly, “I wanted this meeting to be accessible to our kind and important human officials. It is not open to civilians.”
Volka felt herself deflate, and her ears sagged. How could she convince him to let her stay? His face bore no readable expression to give her clues of what tack to take. She couldn’t use telepathy or scent—if Volka inhaled deeply, she’d only smell the window nook on the asteroid. She’d been sitting in there sketching FET12 when he’d declared suddenly, “There is a chance to see Sixty, but we might not be able to speak directly to him. It’s a meeting about the situation in New Grande.”
Volka had jumped at the opportunity. Even if she couldn’t speak to Sixty, she would at least know he was well … if she could only stay. Should she try begging? Should she be defiant? Should she try logic?
“I have extensive experience with the Dark,” Volka blurted. “I might be able to offer a valuable perspective.”
The chrome man tilted his head, and Volka decided that he wasn’t like chrome at all, he was like liquid mercury. If she looked closely, she could see the reflection of the room along his body. He wasn’t wearing clothing, though he’d made himself sexless. It made her blush to notice she’d noticed.
In a flat voice, Time Gate 5 replied, “That is true. Observational data is not ideal, but it is all we have to go on now. You are also the companion of the general. I did tell the Fleet representatives that this meeting wouldn’t be open to the general public, but you are more than that.”
Volka almost missed the compliment, but then she couldn’t help smiling—she’d convinced him without using telepathy or mind control. “Thank you, sir.”
He drew back slightly. “You’re human-like. What are your thoughts on this avatar? I’ve never had one before, but I thought humans might like a face and form to focus on.”
“It’s very beautiful,” Volka said.
The avatar smiled, and his quick silver features crinkled around the eyes. “Thank you.” The smile dropped, and he narrowed one eye. “No changes?”
Volka bit her lip. “Well, I suppose, you might put on clothes.”
“I haven’t decided if I wish to be anything other than asexual,” Time Gate 5 replied.
Volka’s ears flicked, considering that. She needed to be diplomatic and non-judgmental; he wasn’t human. “Well,” she said, “I suppose if you want to declare yourself asexual, your current form is perfect. If you haven’t decided though and want to keep your pondering private, clothing would be better. It depends on how much of your inner self you want to reveal.”
“Hmm …” Time Gate 5 scanned her from head to toe. She followed his eyes. She was clutching her sketch pad and pencil, and it was open to the drawing she’d been working on. FET12 had created an avatar of her exactly as she was, and she was only wearing pajamas.
“Maybe something a little more formal?” Volka suggested, staring at her bare toes.
She blinked up at him, and he was wearing a neat high-necked suit made of a material not quite as reflective as his body. The illusion was so detailed, she could see the weave of it and the wood grain in the buttons of the coat. She smiled. “Perfect.”
Time Gate 5 inclined his head. “It was pleasant meeting you.” With that, he disappeared from her side, but he was still at the table below—in a suit now. She supposed, since he was hosting this mental party, he was actually everywhere.
“Sixty’s here,” FET12 declared at the exact same moment she saw him. He was wearing his Fleet issued armor, though his helmet was off. There was a man beside him wearing the same. Volka’s ears swiveled. The man looked familiar, and she sniffed the air before she remembered that wouldn’t work. Her ears perked, finally isolating the familiar man’s voice from the rest of the din. It was Michael, the would-be peaceful protestor from New Grande who got caught up in the violence. Michael’s previously shaggy hair was now in a neat military “high and tight” like the Fleet Marines wore.
Behind 6T9 and Michael, other figures materialized. They wore a variety of clothing—most of it sparse. One looked like a young girl in a very short school uniform, another wore an evening dress, another an evening suit, and another was dressed as a fireman—though Volka never knew firemen in any system who went shirtless with their coats open—and whose pants looked so dangerously close to revealing their equipment. There were more than two dozen of these new people. They were very beautiful, even for Galacticans, and clustered behind Sixty and Michael.
Beside her, FET12 whispered, “They’re sex ‘bots with Q-comms. Sixty activated them.”
Sucking on a lollipop, the sex ‘bot in the school uniform put a hand on Sixty’s shoulder and gazed around the room, bored.
Growling, Volka leaned closer to the railing, forgetting that it was just an illusion. She would have lost her balance, but FET12 gently righted her and gave her hand a squeeze.
Catching sight of Volka, the schoolgirl sex ‘bot popped the lollipop out of her mouth, licked her lips, and smirked. Her hand slid down Sixty’s shoulder. Volka wasn’t sure if he noticed. His head was bent to Michael’s, he was frowning, and he was punctuating something he was saying with sharp movements of his hand. He looked focused, passionately engaged, and particularly handsome. The other sex ‘bots were listening intently to their conversation, especially a woman with long dark blonde hair, who was leaning very close to Michael.
Sixty looked … important. That impression was boosted by new arrivals at the virtual round table. Everyone, without exception, looked to Sixty before sitting. The lollipop girl lost interest in Volka and turned her attention to the new arrivals, winking and sucking her lollipop suggestively as they took their seats.
At last, Time Gate 5 called the meeting to order. On the balcony, more “people” appeared, although they might have been androids. Volka couldn’t read their minds but wasn’t sure she could read human minds in a virtual world. It was a relief to not hear their thoughts, like a refreshing draught of cool water on a hot day.
Below, Time Gate 5 introduced the mayor. The mayor stood up and gave a speech thanking Time Gate 5, the Local Police Force, System 5 Local Guard, Fleet, and “the 6T9 Unit and … friends” for their part in saving the city.
Sixty sat back, scowling slightly. One of his fingers rapped on the table as the mayor droned on. He didn’t look up at Volka, but gratifyingly, he shifted his body away from the hand on his shoulder.
The mayor and someone who might be head of the New Grande Water Department discussed “water security,” and then the mayor talked to the police. Volka felt her eyelids getting heavy, and she found herself scratching the back of her leg with her foot.
There was a soft squeak beside her. Volka started and found Carl standing on his back two paw pairs on the marble bannister beside her. “Well, this would cure your insomnia.”
“Carl! How?”
Carl lifted his bewhiskered snout. “I am a figment of your imagination.”
“Can FET12 and Bracelet see you?” Volka whispered.
“Yes,” Bracelet whispered, and FET12 nodded.
Carl sniffed and glared at Volka. “I am a master of the quantum wave. I speak ethernet and telepathy.”
“But this is a Q-comm meeting,” Volka whispered. “Not an ethernet meeting.”
Carl and FET12 both stared at her, and she realized she’d said something stupid.
Speaking very slowly, Bracelet said, “Some people are here by Q-comm. Other people are here by ethernet. It’s like … some people in the twenty-first century connected to the internet by satellite, but some people connected by fiber optic cables. You see?”
Volka did not see, but she nodded because they were attracting attention of other people—or androids—on the balcony. In the crowd of androids, one that looked like a rumpled professor and another that looked like a burly construction worker smiled and waved at her. Volka waved back timidly, even less sure of them than she was of fiber optic cables.
Below, the mayor said, “Now, onto the difficult subject of the Infected in our city. We do not have enough treatment at this time—”
Sixty interrupted him. “While the Time Gate is still not operational, and your forces are weak, you must offer to give the newly Infected to the Dark.”
Volka gasped.
Beside her, Carl whispered, “Huh. Didn’t expect that.”
Sixty continued. “Your offer doesn’t have to be sincere, but the Dark must believe you, otherwise, there will be further terrorist action, potentially much worse than anything you’ve seen so far.”
There were murmurs around the table. Volka’s brow furrowed, not following his reasoning. From the table she heard whispers of “fear mongering.”
Sixty rose from his chair. “The Dark needs workers. You cannot cure all the sick. Offer to give them to the Dark after Time Gate 5 is repaired, and you have more forces to protect this system.”
“Offer to give our citizens as hostages?” someone gasped.
“Into slavery?” said another person.
Leaning on the table, Sixty said, “The Dark follows a scorched Earth policy. What it cannot have, it destroys. It will attempt to destroy New Grande. It is already well established in this system, and even The One have not located all its cells. If it thinks it can achieve its aims for more manpower, it will abstain long enough for you to harden your targets.”
There were shouts of outrage and murmurs of protest.
A woman in a gray Fleet uniform said in a clear steely voice, “We have facilitated prisoner exchanges for your mining operations in System 6. This isn’t that much different.”
The woman was shouted down. “This is not Six! This is System 5, our home!”
Another man said, “We have Infected prisoners among the invaders. Trade them!”
“Not enough,” Sixty said.
The man’s face got red. “Not since someone had a shoot to kill policy!”
The look that Sixty cast in the man’s direction was colder than the chill of the void.
A man wearing a uniform that would be unmistakably a police officer anywhere protested, “They were trying to infect ou
r people. You’ve seen Intelligence’s holos! Infection is worse than lethal force.”
“Fleet said they were here to protect us! The people they propose to trade are civilians!” The floor below became a roar of protest … and the roar reminded Volka of the Marines’ last stand on System 33, how at the very end when the Dark realized it couldn’t have them, it launched a pod as a missile to try to destroy them. “He’s right!” she shouted.
All eyes in the room lifted to her—including Sixty’s. He looked shocked. The sex ‘bots behind him—aside from lollipop girl—looked delighted. They smiled, waved, and bounced on their feet. The possibly humans at the table looked incredulous. “Who are you?” asked the mayor.
Time Gate 5 rose, and his voice boomed in the room. “She is Miss Volka, the partner of Android General 1.”
Carl muttered beside her, “Could mention you are an admiral.”
They’d never believe that, and it wasn’t quite true anyway—not in the human sense of the word. The eyes of the people at the table lost their focus and Volka knew they must be accessing her files. They’d see she was an artist, that she was the “pilot” of the only faster-than-light ship in the galaxy, and that she hadn’t gone to college. Dig a little more, and they might find out she’d never even been to high school. She had to prove the value of her words.
Straightening her shoulders, Volka declared, “I fought with Android General 1 on System 33. The Dark tried to destroy us when we proved not to be of use to it.”
Someone whispered, “The Luddie painter.”
Louder, another person said, “It’s only one example.”
“There is more than one example,” said a familiar voice at Volka’s left. Her ears swiveled as the rumpled professor type and the burly construction worker pushed their way to her side.
“Lishi!” Volka whispered. Last time she’d seen him, he hadn’t had a robot form.