Her tunic hung loosely on either side of her legs as she leaned against the side of my boat. It was hard to ignore the way the fabric clung to her backside, taunting me with what was beneath. After another drawn-out blink, she asked, “So what will it be, Troy Weston?” She traced circles with her finger on the rail. “Are you to take me to Ilium?”
I was not going to pretend like I had any idea what was going on—where I was or who she was. I didn’t know if I was in some weird Purgatory, having concussed delusions, or beta testing some new VR World of Warcraft against my will, but my answer was an emphatic “Hell yes.” Quest accepted.
4
“Ilium is due West, Troy Weston.” She pointed port bow, winking.
“Are you sure that’s the direction you’re pointing?” She was cute, but I was finding the things she said harder to believe by the minute.
She cocked her head at me—there was that ticking again—and kept grinning. “Check your instruments if you do not believe me.”
“I think I will,” I said, walking over to the console. “Hell, you’re right.” There was a strong breeze, so I did not bother with the engine.
Helen joined me not long after I got the Moonshadow sliding along. “I have never seen instruments like these, and I am familiar with many ships.”
“You know what a compass is?”
She shook her head.
I pointed to mine in the dash. “That’s the one the boat uses. It tells me which direction we’re facing. I turn left”—I steered a little to the left— “and it turns with me. See?”
“I have never seen this kind of magic before,” she said.
“It’s not magic, it’s technology.” I turned the Moonshadow back West.
“I rather like technology,” she beamed. “I am familiar with both magic and technology.”
“Oh? What kind of technology do they have in Troy?” I asked, not taking the magic comment seriously.
“There is nothing much to speak of in Troy, but I intend to change that. The people of Troy deserve it. You will find certain weaponry among the elite, yes, but higher technology is not widespread here—in Troy or Greece. It is a different matter in Egypt.”
I was having a hard time following what she meant. I assumed when she said “technology” she was talking about things like crossbows or maybe aqueducts, which I thought I’d remembered hearing were a thing in either Greece or Rome.
“The same goes for magic. The two are everywhere one looks in Egypt, a part of everyday living. My people have no idea, but I will change that very soon.” She held my arm as we picked up speed, and I caught another whiff of cinnamon.
“How do you know so much about Egypt?” I asked.
“It is where I was constructed.”
“What do you mean?” I don’t think I had ever heard someone say something like that before. “You mean you were born there?”
“No, not exactly. Well . . . it is sort of like that. The Egyptians, they made me in the image of the other Helen, the one I am to replace in Troy. But . . . I do not believe I will be able to replace her until I become fully human.”
I felt a sudden urge to pull away but stopped myself. “What do you mean? You’re not a full human right now?”
“That is correct.” She tilted her head up and looked into my eyes. I heard it again. I had no doubt the ticking was coming from her. “I was made as an improvement upon the other Helen. I understand she was not well-liked by many. I am—I mean, I was—a machine. Now, I am not sure what I am to be called.” I thought it was best to just let her keep talking at that point. After a long pause, she continued, “I served under the Pharaohs for a time as a full machine. But one day I . . . woke up, I suppose. I do not know if this is the best word, ‘wake’. I do not sleep, so I do not know what it is like to wake. It must have been through some kind of augmentation to my magic, though. I cannot think of any other reason, and I do not think it is what the Pharaohs intended for me. I am, in part, an accident, even though I make no apology for my existence.”
There was a lot to unravel in what she was saying. I didn’t remember Pharaohs being a part of any Greek history, but I didn’t question that part. They weren’t so far away geographically, Egypt and Greece. Maybe Troy was even closer to Egypt, I really wasn’t sure. Maybe it would have made more sense had I paid more attention in history class. I would likely have plenty of time to regret that on this little adventure we were having.
I tried to add it all up. Pharaohs . . . hot flirty chick with a sing-song voice . . . hot chick who’s likely batshit, by the way . . . going to Troy, the city . . . it felt like the middle of summer. I felt like any question I asked would only lead to more questions, but I really didn’t see any alternative to finding out what the hell was going on.
“Hey, Helen, I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but do you—um, can you show me anything to back up what you’re telling me? It’s a little hard to believe that you’re a robot.”
“I no longer am a robot, Troy Weston.” She turned away and crossed her arms, agitated. As she turned, I heard the ticking again. In that moment, the sound took on a whole new meaning.
“I didn’t mean to insult you, Helen. I’m sorry.” I rested a hand on her shoulder, keeping the other on the helm and watching the water. At first, I thought I grabbed a handful of velvet, so I did a double-take to make sure I was touching her bare skin. I didn’t realize androids moisturized.
Physically, this woman was perfect in every describable way. The jury was still out on her mental state. Maybe it was a fair trade in her case. I thought of the kiss from earlier. Part of me wanted another. Part of me would have felt guilty for taking advantage.
“You did not insult me. I just desire so badly to be human. So much so that it almost hurts.” She turned back to me and looked into my eyes, hers pleading. “Though yes, I can prove to you these claims I make. Here, feel the back of my neck.” I brushed her hair away and reached around, expecting to feel more velvety skin. Instead, my touch met something hard, some kind of recess. It didn’t feel like a wound. It felt more metallic than anything.
She turned around and bent her head down. I heard the ticking again as she faced her feet. “This is one of my most private pieces, Troy Weston,” she said before parting the thick, dark hair on the back of her head to reveal a port embedded in her neck.
At the shock, I almost lost my footing. I stifled a laugh, not that I found anything funny, but everything was getting so wild. I was finding it difficult to trust everything I knew. The dainty nymph to my right was part computer after all. In that moment, I threw out every misconception I’d had about her.
“Wow.”
“You understand now.” She faced me again, wearing a hesitant smile.
“I do. We have a word for women like you.,” I told her.
“Which is?”
“Wow.”
Her ship-launching grin returned, and I grew weak in the knees. She wrapped her arms around me and buried the side of her head into my chest. “I think you are just ‘wow’ as well, Troy Weston.”
“Call me Troy, Helen.” I wrapped my arm around her, now fully consumed by the aroma of cinnamon. She lunged up and planted another unexpected kiss square on my mouth with those full lips, a hundred percent guilt-free. “So, uh, I guess that explains the ticking then, huh?”
“You can hear my ticking?” Her eyes were wide, shocked. “That concerns me. No one has told me of this before now.”
“No, no bother at all. I was just curious where it was coming from. Thought something might’ve banged loose in the storm.” I patted the wheel.
“This is a relief—on both accounts,” she said. “That nothing has ‘banged loose’ and that my ticking is not a bother to you. I think it will fade over time, as I become fully human.” She cupped her own breast with an appraising look, then smiled.
“Well. Um,” I coughed, slowly regaining my composure after being assaulted by this strange reality and then having my presence invad
ed by her sensuality. “Tell me more about these Pharaohs.”
“I do not wish to speak any more of the Pharaohs now, if that is all right with you, Troy.”
“Oh, sure. Tell me more about you then.”
“Gladly, I will. I am a nexus of magic and science, and I don’t have an explanation. But I will. As I shift, I feel, and the more I feel, the greater my capacity for—everything, I think.”
“Do you feel happiness now? That’s a very human emotion right there.”
“I do. It’s among the first sensations I truly understood, because the opposite, fear, is so jarring.” She paused in thought for a moment. “Do you know why I was stranded in the water when you found me?”
“The storm tore your ship apart, right?”
“This is true, yes. I was on my way to Troy from Egypt. This day has been unfortunate for me. Not long before the storm, my ship was ambushed by two Greek warships as well.”
“I had no idea. How did you survive? Did they kill the rest of your crew?”
“I was not with a crew. My ship was constructed using Egyptian technology. Only I was required to guide it. This much is similar to your ship, but there were many things about my ship that were not so similar to yours. I almost did not escape with my life. I had to sacrifice all but one of my special cannons in my effort to escape, and—I almost laugh at the thought, though it is so sad—the storm took my last cannon when it destroyed my ship.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It is the way of things,” she said wistfully.
“What was so special about these cannons, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“They were of my own design, Troy. Emerald green, trimmed in gold like the plaited hair of the Pharaohs, and with power unmatched by anything the Greeks or Trojans have ever laid eyes on.”
“Then how did two Greek ships overpower you?”
“A single person can only do so much when flanked in ambush. A one-woman crew does not fair so well in battle.”
“Ah, of course. I admire that you were still able to overcome them. You’re brave, Helen.”
“As must you be, Troy. I do not know of any men who could safely steer in such a storm.”
I wasn’t about to tell her it was all just dumb luck on my end. “Is there any chance you will be able to reconstruct these cannons once we get to Ilium?”
“Yes, this is my plan. Only it will take a great deal of time. Likely more than we have to spare at present. As we are speaking, the Greeks tear at the walls of Troy. We must ensure that they do not fall, no matter the cost. Please, Troy, help me save my people.”
“I’ll do what I can, Helen. I can’t make any promises in this war with the Greeks, but you, at least, are safe with me.”
5
We traveled in companionable silence, both standing at the wheel as the Moonshadow carved our path. When the sun was about halfway below the horizon, I turned the ship to auto and took her below deck.
She looked back over my shoulder at the wheel, clearly curious. “It can steer itself.” I answered the unasked question. “Let’s get some food.”
I led her to a seat and turned on the AC. Her jaw dropped as the vents began to buzz. “What makes this cold air?”
I had to take a minute to appreciate that a self-aware machine seemed to not know anything about commonplace technology.
“Is this magic?” she asked.
“No.” I chuckled. “Just more technology.”
“And what of the ship steering itself. Is that magic?”
“Nope, all tech. Everything you see is tech.” I waved my hands around to indicate the entire galley. “There is no magic where I come from.” Her jaw dropped even lower.
“A place with no magic,” she said, marveling at our surroundings. “It seems like a missed opportunity to make your technology even better. I find it hard to believe.”
“You’re one to talk,” I said. I went over to a cabinet and grabbed a jar of peanut butter and a spoon. It was a little soupy from the heat, but still fine for consumption. “Try this.” I held it out to her.
She took it, not sure what to do. She pulled the spoon out, a sticky brown clump now stuck to it. “What do you call this?”
“Peanut butter. Just eat it. Lots of protein. It’s good for you.”
She cautiously stuck her tongue out and licked it off the spoon. Then it hit me.
“Oh, shit—do you eat?” I panicked, worried I may have just broken her.
She didn’t answer me right away. Instead, she smacked her tongue up and down in her mouth, like dogs do when they eat it. She stopped for a moment, her mouth half open. I got ready to reach in and prevent any further damage when the corners of her lips curled up into a delighted smile. She giggled and clapped her hands together. “Amazing. Show me the next thing from your world.”
I laughed, and it wasn’t nervous. It was the kind of shared joy that comes from a common bond, and in this case, it was something as simple as peanut butter.
I spent the next few hours showing her my “exotic” foods, talking about life back home, and explaining how a lot of modern ships work, like how the Moonshadow had electronic elements that I didn’t have to use all the time. I even mentioned that it looked to me like I had somehow traveled into the past, but she was more fascinated by the idea of a diesel engine. Such questions made me more and more curious about how the Egyptians could build sentient androids but also not come across other simpler technologies. I wondered if maybe my technology was so archaic that they had thrown it out ages ago. Maybe they would see my ship’s engine in the same way I would see a clay hut and think of it as an antiquated substitute for a “real” house. In bits and pieces, I began to grasp that the Egyptians were masters of a layered approach. They saw magic and technology as partners, not enemies, and the resulting engineering was truly alien to my mind.
Looking at Helen, I knew it was also brilliant.
“So tell me, Troy, why does the Moonshadow even have one of these dee-seal engines if you can sail with the wind like a regular ship?”
“There are rules for that kind of stuff where I come from,” I explained. “For one, people wouldn’t be comfortable if I came strolling up into port to dock my ship relying only on the wind, you know? There’s a lot of potential for me to damage someone else’s boat. That’s just a lawsuit waiting to happen. The engine makes it easier. Also, it comes in handy if the wind isn’t in a helpful mood, you know what I mean?”
“I understand.” She grinned. She leaned forward, hands on her knees in anticipation.
“Just as your people use two kinds of power—magic and technology—this boat does the same, albeit wind and diesel. The preference is wind, because it’s virtually without limit.”
“Such is magic, within reason,” she said.
“There are limits?”
“Several, not the least of which is the skill of the designer. Magic has rules, and they cannot be broken without serious consequences. The best technology takes magic at the very edge, and makes it better,” she said.
She grabbed an MRE out of the pile of food I’d thrown on the couch for her to try. “What is this one? Is it supposed to be food?”
“Yup, that’s an MRE, a ‘Meal, Ready-To-Eat’.” I reached over and opened it for her. It was beef stew, one of my favorites.
“It is like the MMA you spoke of earlier?” She gently peeled the side of it open and peeked in.
“What? No—MMA is Mixed Martial Arts. That’s just a kind of fighting. Something I used to do before I joined the navy. It’s not food.” I was really beginning to wonder how much she understood. “MREs are just these packs of food you can open up and eat. It’s convenient and healthy. I like ‘em, but I grew up eating them in the scouts. The military makes use of them more than anyone else.”
“What is ‘scouts’?”
“A club, for kids. Sort of like junior soldiers, but with a lot more snacks.” I grabbed the main course out of the pack, tore it op
en, and handed it back to her. She looked at it like it was a squished roach. “Just try it, they really aren’t all that bad.”
She picked at the MRE delicately, then her face drew inward. “Please take this from me, Troy.”
“Yeah, they’re not for everybody.” I put it back in the packet, trying to hide my smirk. “Let me help you out here.” I tossed the remains of her offending meal away with a flip of my wrist. I understood. “Let’s lay off the food for now. This is fun and all, but I should save my rations. Here, follow me.”
I led her back to the bed. “You can sleep here—oh wait, you said you don’t sleep, didn’t you? Or was it that you used to not sleep before the woo-woo magic made you partly human?” I was not trying to be rude, but there was so much being said, I was losing track of some details. I hoped she would at least lie down for a while so I could take time to think by myself and not have to answer a million questions.
“I am not familiar with the ‘woo-woo’ you speak of, but I still cannot sleep as a full human can. Though I do rest in my own way, and this bedding suits me. I thought you said you did not have magic in your States, but you have something that is like magic, called ‘woo-woo’?”
I regretted wording it that way and was glad she didn’t assume I was being condescending, which I was in a knee-jerk sort of way. “Uh, yeah, well, we do have woo-woo in The States. It’s kind of like magic, but not really. Not real like you are, anyway.” I made a note to consider my word choice, because explaining modern America was a task that could take years. “Would you mind resting here for a while, then? I’d like to check on some things up top, make sure the storm didn’t cause any real damage.”
“Of course, Troy. I will rest here while you check on things up top.”
“You’re a peach.”
“What is a peach?”
6
I took the ship off auto to give my robo-hands something to do while I began unpacking all the details.
Gears of Troy: A Scifi Fantasy Harem Page 2