by Scott Baron
He had shown the videos to Daisy one afternoon on a whim, and, surprisingly, she was hooked. Thus, their new couple’s pastime began. Mind you, they didn’t compete in actual boxing. Vince was much larger and far too proficient at that, but they did play a lot of chess.
After months of no-holds-barred brutality, where pawns and knights alike were savaged by ravaging bishops and queens, Daisy was finally holding her own in their matches. What she didn’t tell him was she had removed a few filters from her neuro-stim, allowing her to increase the trickle flow of chess strategies and game theory she downloaded as she slept. At long last, the mild headaches had finally paid off.
“Checkmate!” she cried out triumphantly.
About goddamn time too! she mused.
“Impressive,” Vince said as he studied the board. “Wow. Totally did not see that coming.”
“Silent Death. Like a ninja, only sexier.” She smiled coyly. “Now come on and get sweaty with your woman.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.”
Vincent moved the chess set back to its drawer, retracted the table deep into the hidden recesses of the wall, and began to limber up.
“So, you think you can handle me, eh?”
“I’m looking forward to trying,” she said with a little smile.
“Okay, then. How about working on your stand-up game today? Or would you rather we get horizontal for a while?”
“Why not both?”
Vince smiled. “I’ll get the pads, then.”
A few minutes later a thin sheen of sweat glistened from his arms as he parried and dodged Daisy’s attacks. Vince was far stronger than she was, and keeping that in mind, he had taught her early on to not try to out-power him, but rather, to use her speed and agility to her advantage, though her strength was increasing at a healthy pace as they upped the intensity of their training.
“That all you got?” she teased, dodging a slow roundhouse kick.
Vince snapped a quick jab, lightly tapping her forehead.
“Don’t get too cocky, now,” he chuckled through his mouth guard.
Daisy threw a combination at him, a flurry of rapid punches followed by a faked leg kick that transitioned into a knee to the ribs. With her somewhat questionable style, the move took him by surprise. An amused grin spread on his face as he launched a counterattack, launching quick punches as he advanced.
Her footwork shifted as she adopted a stance he hadn’t taught her.
Vince paused, but only a moment as he wondered what she was doing. Then he pressed the attack.
Daisy’s chin tucked further as her elbows dropped tight to her body, almost to her center-line. With squared hips, she began quickly parrying his jabs, speeding her hands as she redirected his attacks, following with a series of quick counter punches.
Faster and faster they went, hands a flurry of speed as Vince found himself unable to land a single blow. Her hands were simply too quick.
Without warning, as it should be in combat, Vince threw a looping roundhouse punch. It was an easy-to-read fake, but rather than the spinning back-fist follow-up that Daisy expected, he dropped low, sweeping her legs out from under her.
Daisy hit the mat hard, but was quickly scrambling to bounce back to her feet when Vince rolled on top of her.
“You had enough?” he asked, sweat dripping from his forehead.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” she replied with a smile. “You think you’re ‘up’ for a different challenge?” she asked with sparkling eyes.
They both spat out their mouthguards and locked lips in a deep kiss, tongues engaged in a far different type of combat.
“Damn, woman!” Vince gasped when they finally broke their embrace. “You’re insatiable.”
“That didn’t sound like a no to me.”
“That’s because it wasn’t,” he answered with a hungry smile. “But not here. These mats? Nasty! How about something different? Maybe, Starboard Nine?”
“Stop asking, Vince. I’m not doing it in zero-g. Besides, I’m the one who’d have to clean the place up afterwards.”
“But think of the fun,” he said.
“But think of the nausea, and bruises, and mess,” Daisy replied.
The heavy airlock door quietly cycled open across the room.
“Hey, guys,” Reggie said to the sweaty pair on the ground. “Am I getting a show with my workout today?”
“Eww, Reggie,” Daisy chuckled.
“Yeah, gross, dude,” Vince added.
“Hey, with you two, I never know.” He laughed jovially as he hefted a massive kettlebell from its secure rack with his non-metal hand.
Come lunchtime, Daisy and Vince joined Sarah, Tamara, and the others in the galley to see what Finn had dreamed up this time.
Tamara’s crop of zucchini and crooknecks had been prolific, as squash tend to be, and Finn, presented with a wealth of produce to work with, had endeavored to transform ordinary vegetables into a masterpiece of seasoning and texture.
“Mouth feel,” he’d often say, “is as important as flavor.”
The yellow squash were roasted, then carefully diced, while the deep green zucchini had been spun in Finn’s mechanical hand while his human one held a knife to it. The result was a massive bowl of thin pasta-looking zucchini strands that he seasoned with fresh garlic and a flavorful olive oil of his own design. Trees couldn’t be grown on the ship. There simply wasn’t enough room, so for things like olives and tree fruits, he relied on Mal’s food replicators. Luckily, there were several high-quality genetic templates from which to fabricate his desired supplies.
For those who wanted it, a tasty Bolognese sauce was offered in both vegetarian and meat varieties. Tamara stuck with her herbivore option, while the others dug into the hearty meat sauce.
“Hey, Finn, what’s the meat in this? It’s got a stronger flavor,” Gustavo noted.
“Buffalo. Thought I’d try something different. You like it?”
“Yeah, it’s really tasty. Good one, man,” Gus said through his full mouth.
“So, how was your workout, you two?” Sarah asked, flashing Daisy a sideways grin.
Vince thankfully missed it, or at least he pretended to. “Daisy finally beat me at chess today,” he said. “Plus, she is getting really good at sparring. It’s like her body knows what to do even before I show her.”
Sarah’s jaw clenched, and her lips twitched, but she managed to keep a straight face.
Barely.
Daisy blushed. “Yeah, about that. I should come clean. I kind of cheated a little.”
“Daisy, you can’t cheat at sparring. You either got it or you don’t.”
“Yeah, but I got it because I added some kung fu to my neuro a few weeks ago.”
“A few weeks? That’s not nearly enough time to make any sort of a difference. That skill? It’s all you, babe.”
Daisy hesitated a moment, her face transitioning to a deeper red.
“Yeah, about those few weeks of neuro time…”
“What did you do, Daze?” Sarah prodded.
“I kinda pulled a few inhibitors as well. Nothing major, just enough to speed things up a bit.”
Tamara dropped her fork and flashed an angry look.
“For fuck’s sake, Daisy, you’ll fry your goddamn brain tampering with that thing.”
“I’ve got it under control, Tamara. I am the ship’s resident tech guru, after all.”
“Hey!” her friend interjected.
“Sorry,” she apologized to Sarah. “One of the ship’s tech gurus.”
“I don’t care how clever you are, that’s dangerous stuff you’re fiddling with. There’s a good reason those things have a dozen inhibitors on them. You think they’d have built in that much redundancy into the safeties if they didn’t have to? Jesus, you’re like a fucking child!”
“Oh, come on, Tamara. You’re a goddamn botanist. What do you know about tech, and neuros and combat training? Just take your Swiss Army arm
and stick with playing in the dirt.”
“Hey, not cool!” Finn called from the galley.
“Yeah, Daze, that’s fucked up,” Gus added. “I suppose I should take my Swiss Army head and stick to navigating the ship. At high speeds. While not getting us killed, I might add.”
Daisy shrank in her seat.
“Guys, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You’re a bigot,” Tamara said, slamming her seat back as she rose. “Finn, box this up for me. I’m going to eat with my plants. They have better manners.”
“I’m right behind you,” Gus said.
Daisy, for once, didn’t know what to say. Instead, she sat quietly as Tamara and Gus stormed out the airlock door.
She had tried to calm her mind after dinner. A centering meditation trick she’d learned from Sarah. Sitting quietly on the floor, Daisy focused on her breathing, trying to isolate each muscle in her body, becoming aware of every fiber of her being. Only her being was simply too wound-up.
“Dammit,” she grumbled as she got to her feet.
Okay, let’s try something a little more dynamic.
The breathing was the same. Focusing energy as she concentrated on her body, but this time she was in motion. Ever so slowly, but in motion nonetheless. The first dozen movements in the lengthy Tai Chi routine flowed easily, and with them, she felt her stress dissipate. It was effortless, and for a moment, she actually understood what Sarah had been trying to teach her about the technique.
Ten more movements into the series, Daisy began forgetting what was next, and what had started as a relaxing endeavor quickly became another source of stress.
Frustrated, she gave up.
I’ve got to make this right.
Daisy cycled open her pod’s double doors and walked to Gustavo’s quarters, then paused. After a long minute, she took a deep breath and keyed his comms pad.
“Yeah, what is it?”
“Gus, it’s Daisy, can I talk to you a minute?”
There was a lengthy pause before he answered.
“Okay, hang on.”
She felt, more than heard, the heavy inner door slide open and closed. Moments later the door to the corridor quietly opened.
“Look, Gus, I don’t know how better to say it than I’m sorry. Sometimes when I get heated I just say shit I shouldn’t. I know it’s not your fault you were in an accident, and I didn’t mean to be so insensitive. I wasn’t thinking.” She tried to sound as convincing as she could, pushing back the sense of unease his artificial eye always brought her. At least the patch of gleaming metal skull had some hair flopped over it.
She heard a tiny servo as his eye shifted focus on her.
“Well, I guess I forgive you, then,” he relented. “I knew you didn’t really mean it, but it was a shit thing to say, Daisy.”
“I know, and I’m really, really sorry.”
“Well, don’t worry about me. We’re okay. Tamara? She’s a bit more sensitive about her enhancements.”
“Yeah, I’m going to see her next.”
“Good luck with that.”
He paused before closing the door. Daisy focused on his human eye.
“So we’re good?” she asked.
“Yeah, we’re good. But we’d be better if you brought brownies.”
“I’ll ask Finn to whip up a batch in the morning.”
“Cool. G’night, Daisy.”
“Night, Gus.”
His door closed, leaving Daisy to her next stop. Unlike Gustavo, however, Tamara was one to hold a grudge.
“Who is it?” her voice asked through the comms box.
“Tamara, it’s Daisy. Look, I was wondering if we could talk a minute. I wanted to—”
“Fuck off.” The comms went silent.
Okay, then. Looks like I need to give her a bit more time to cool off, Daisy grumbled to herself. Guess I’ll try again tomorrow.
She turned from the angry woman’s door and padded off to the comfort of Vince’s shoulder and an old movie.
2001: A Space Odyssey. It was old, it was weird, and it was really, really slow. Maybe on any other day she’d have enjoyed the film, but this wasn’t the day. That and the creepy computer with its unblinking red eye creeped her out. HAL was the villain and he was a prick, but what was most frightening was how, despite his actions, she could see how he believed what he was doing was right.
It was so very much not the kind of entertainment she’d been hoping for that evening. Nonetheless, it was comforting there, curled up against Vince on his bed, and he had actually made her cookies. Like, real, homemade cookies. It was one of the sweetest things she could imagine, both figuratively and literally, so she watched the whole movie with him, all the way through, even if this particular choice wasn’t to her liking. Fortunately, the steady supply of sweets took the edge off in a most delicious manner.
Why he kept opting for old space movies, she never could figure, though she had to admit the Alien series had been rather fun, if wholly inaccurate about space travel.
As the creepy computer on the screen started singing her name, Daisy decided that she was picking the next movie they watched together.
A comedy, most likely.
A few hours later, Daisy walked back to her quarters, still ruminating over her careless insult. She liked Tamara, at least when she wasn’t being gruff, which honestly wasn’t all that often. Bigoted? Prejudiced? Was she really those things? It’s just that those replacement parts aren’t natural, she rationalized. It’s perfectly normal to be creeped out a little, right? Even if true, she needed to keep her tongue in check and smooth things over with the multiple people she’d managed to insult.
She entered her pod and sealed the heavy double doors behind her and took a seat on her bed.
I hate this! I need to be able to turn off my brain. To find something to occupy my mind to help me unwind.
She looked at the neuro-stim unit a moment, a brief flush of self-loathing rising like bile. For all her dislike of technologically altered people, she still relied on the neuro. She bent her own logic to justify its use, she knew, but it had proven far too useful to just put aside.
It’s not the same as metal limbs, she rationalized, then began scanning its data stores for the one thing she thought might actually help.
Gotcha.
Daisy loaded the Tai Chi program into her already-overflowing feed queue, then began typing a rapid series of commands into the device. Several flashing lights and warning tones later, the neuro-stim was ready for her night’s sleep.
It was only a couple more inhibitors, she rationalized. Still plenty of them left.
Daisy placed the thin band on her head and activated the machine, then lay back onto her bed, looking forward to the new information she’d wake up with.
Tai Chi, she mused as she drifted off to sleep. I’m going to know Tai Chi.
Chapter Eight
“What’s cookin’, Finn?” Gus called out as he strode through the airlock door. Despite Finnegan’s other duties, like maintaining the hydroponic systems, the mess hall was most certainly his culinary domain.
“Come on, amigo, I’m starving!” Gustavo groused before swiping a piece of toast from the counter.
“Hold your horses, I’m working on it,” the mad chef replied. “And, by the way, don’t you have a ship to be flying?”
“Not my job,” Gus replied. “I’m the navigator, remember?”
“Fine. A course to be plotting, then?”
“Only my job if the AI goes on the fritz or needs extra manpower. Mal’s fine on her own at the moment.”
“You’re killing me, man.” Finn laughed. “I’ll have something for ya in a couple of minutes. You want spicy?” His knife was a blur as it slapped out a staccato rhythm against the cutting board, Tamara’s bounty of vegetables quickly cut into tiny pieces. Taking big things and cutting them into smaller things seemed to be a task that most chefs had quite a proclivity for.
“Spice is ni
ce, my man, so yeah, kick it up a notch if you want. Hey, you got red peppers over there?” Gustavo asked as the quiet servos adjusted the focal ring on his cybernetic eye to get a better look across the room.
“Yeah, Tamara just picked ’em today.”
“Pretty handy, having all those gardening tool attachments she can swap out. She’s hands down got the most kickass upgrade on the ship. Beats the hell out of your weak-ass arm. Maybe you could talk to Mal and see if she’ll hook you up with a built-in knife, or a blender attachment or something.”
“Ha-ha, funny guy. Now shut up and let me work.”
The rhythmic sound of chopping started again, and the pile of sliced and diced vegetables quickly grew into a small mountain.
The doors quietly slid open again.
“Hey, Finn, what’s cooking?”
“Jeez, Reggie, is everyone going to keep asking me that?”
“Yup. Until we’re chowing down anyway,” he answered.
“Go fly the ship, Reg.”
“Captain’s shift,” the co-pilot said with a chuckle.
“So you decided to come harass me.”
“Yup.” He reached out and snatched a piece of chopped pepper from the cutting board. Finn took exception to the invasion of his work space and flicked his wrist, sending the knife darting toward Reggie’s polished-silver hand in a blur.
Clang.
“Dude, not cool! Just because it’s metal doesn’t mean you can just go beating on my hand, man.”
“Fingers off my cutting board, then.”
“Quit bickering, you two,” Vince called out as he and Daisy stepped in through the airlock door. “I swear, y’all are like caffeinated toddlers around here.”
“Look who’s talking, Mr. Half-hour Showers.”
“At least I’m clean.”
“In body if not mind,” Gustavo chimed in.
“Oh, that’s most assuredly not clean,” Daisy added with a smirk.
The co-pilot flashed them a look and shuddered.
“Great. We drink that recycled water. Thanks, guys. Thanks a lot. There goes my appetite.”
“Reggie, nothing kills your appetite.”
“Funny you should say that, because today I’m making a special—”