by M. D. Cooper
“None taken. I don’t like the idea either.”
“Soooo…” Katrina said, letting the word trail away.
“Yeah?” Tangel asked, as they walked along the edge of the orchard behind Tanis’s lakehouse.
“So, Angela is usually more talkative than this…and you’re ascended now….” Katrina fell silent, letting the words hang between them.
“We’ve stopped pretending we’re separate people,” Tangel replied with a smirk. “Though we’re keeping up appearances for everyone else—which might not be a good idea. It’s hard to gauge.”
Katrina whistled. “I assume one was a catalyst for the other?”
“Yeah, merging triggered our ascension,” Tangel said simply.
“And you still go by ‘Tanis’?” Katrina laughed. “I’m surprised that the Angela part of you allows that.”
“Well, that’s just the subterfuge. We’re using ‘Tangel’ for those in the know.”
“ ‘Tangel’, huh? I kinda feel like Angela gets more letters there. Which makes sense, she was always kinda pushy.”
“Hey!” Tanis said in mock indignation. “At least half of me resents that.”
“That much, eh?”
The pair reached Tanis’s back porch, and they climbed the wooden steps, entering the house to see Cary walking out of the kitchen with a glass of orange juice. She froze in her tracks, eyeing Katrina’s lack of restraints.
“Uh…Moms?”
“ ‘Moms’. Cute,” Katrina chuckled.
Tangel lifted a hand. “It’s OK, Cary. Katrina isn’t under any aegis. She’s safe.”
Cary’s lips pressed into a thin line, then she swallowed and gave an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry about how things started with us. I hope you can forgive us.”
Katrina nodded slowly. “Myself as well. I…I regret a lot of things. Try as I might, that list just keeps getting longer.”
“Well…I’m sorry we were so…harsh,” Cary added hesitantly. “I felt bad about that afterward. I know Saanvi did too.”
“I still miss her in my mind,” Katrina said after a moment. “Xavia’s memory, that is. Is that odd?”
“I don’t think so,” Cary said. “I’ve had Faleena with me for just over a year, and I’m going to miss her a lot.”
Katrina glanced at Tanis and then back at Cary. “I take it you two are separating to avoid following too closely in your mother’s footsteps?”
“Perceptive,” Tangel said with a laugh. “Yes, there’s a risk that if some sort of catalyst occurred, Cary and Faleena may intertwine.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” Katrina said, a genuine smile gracing her lips.
“Would you like to join us for supper?” Cary asked Katrina. “Saanvi will be here soon. We’re going to have a little family cookout down at the lake before we go back to New Canaan later tomorrow.”
“Leaving so soon?” Tangel asked. “I thought you were staying on another week.”
Cary sighed, tilting her hips and shaking her head. “Yeah, Dad said we’ve lost enough time in our schooling already. He’s sticking to this whole ‘you must graduate with flying colors’ punishment.”
Katrina snorted. “Tanis—er, Tangel…you realize she’s your spitting image when she does that, right?”
“She’s like me in a lot of ways,” Tangel replied before turning to Cary. “I’ll see if I can convince your father to let you stay a bit longer. I’d like to spend more time with you—and to see Faleena after you two separate.”
“I’d like that very much,” Cary and Faleena said in unison, both daughters adding a laugh at the end.
“Stars,” Tangel murmured, unable to keep the mirth from her voice. “That’s unsettling.”
COOKOUT
STELLAR DATE: 08.31.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Ol’ Sam, ISS I2
REGION: Pyra, Albany System, Thebes, Septhian Alliance
“Seriously, there’s no better option!” Finaeus waved his arms in the air. “Look, ask Saanvi, she’ll explain the resource allocation benefits. A ring is the best option. We only stopped building them because we were tired of people breaking them.”
Cary glanced at Saanvi and Finaeus, then looked to the Theban general, a man named Andre who looked like he wanted to be optimistic, but was too worn-down to put much effort into it.
The small cookout had gotten larger—which seemed to be normal for the lakehouse soirees. Even the delegation of Theban leaders had shown up to mix and mingle.
Normally she liked it, but this night, Cary had been hoping for a somewhat more intimate gathering—of course, it could also be that she felt lonely without Faleena sharing her headspace.
“It’s true,” Saanvi nodded enthusiastically. “Especially with the trade route with the Inner Empire—stars, now there’s a group who needs a better name—we’ll have everything we need. However,” she paused and cast an appraising eye at Finaeus. “From what we learned in school, the FGT stopped building planetary rings because you worked out other methods for stabilizing a planet’s climate without the use of a ring.”
“Well, yeah,” Finaeus shrugged. “But people were breaking them. Over a hundred planetary rings were destroyed during the FTL wars, and many more in the dark ages that followed. Rings, it turns out, are a great way to destroy a planet, via sabotage, or misuse. Sorta defeated the purpose.”
“So why build one now?” Cary asked, a questioning eyebrow raised.
Finaeus flashed one of his signature grins her way, and she found herself growing ever more enamored of this man. Not in any sort of physical attraction sort of way…
Well, maybe, but I’m not going to home in on Cheeky’s guy.
Attractive in his lanky, rugged way or not, Finaeus was more like the fun uncle that livened up the whole party when he arrived. The fact that he always looked like he’d be more at home on a ranch herding bison than building some of the largest megastructures ever created was all part of the man’s charm.
He also had the best stories, and he never left any of the juicy parts out.
“Habitation, and the refugees,” Finaeus answered simply. “You know that. The planet below is a mess, and non-ring terraforming techniques take a lot longer to pull off. Sure, we could do it with a diffuse array of satellites on the quick-ish, but that doesn’t solve the living space issues. Not to mention that Hudson is going to have some brutal winters, from the atmospheric dust the battles there kicked up.
“Nope, ring’s our best bet. Bring these people out of the stone ages, too.”
Saanvi laughed at Finaeus’s last statement. “I think the Albany System is nice—or it was, from the vids we’ve seen.”
General Andre sighed, giving his head a rueful shake. “I’m not sure whether to be delighted or offended.”
Saanvi sent over a mental shrug.
Cary realized that no one was speaking aloud and stammered out. “Well, stone ages or no, their mechs are pretty impressive. Without Rika and her people…”
“Rika’s not from here, though,” Finaeus corrected, gabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s from Genevia, about sixty light years thataway.”
“Fin,” Cary chided. “We’re three thousand light years from home. Sixty or so ‘thataway’ still counts as local, so far as I’m concerned.”
Andre grabbed a sandwich from a passing servitor and chewed silently while shaking his head in disbelief.
Finaeus shrugged. “I suppose. Total agreement, though, the mechs are damn impressive. Not their tech—that shit’s brutal—but their fighting spirit. Not often you see people so utterly crushed, claw their way back up and then proceed to kick some serious ass. Leastwise not in such a short period of time.”
Saanvi’s eyes narrowed as she regarded Finaeus. “You’ve got thinking face. I can see it.”
&
nbsp; Finaeus lowered his eyebrows and scowled at Saanvi. “I’ve always got thinking face. Thinking is my superpower.”
“I wonder who’d win in a think-off?” Cary gave Saanvi a slow wink. “Finaeus or Earnest?”
Saanvi snorted, and Finaeus adopted a hurt expression.
“I think they’d merge into some sort of super-being and invent a whole new universe,” a voice said from behind them.
Cary turned to see a lithe woman with long, red hair, threading her way through the crowd standing on the lawn. Beneath her russet locks, the woman’s skin was a light green, and yellow eyes rested atop high cheekbones.
Her lips were a deep red, matching the faint whorls that covered her body, only partially obscured by the simple white shift she wore.
It was easy enough for Cary to identify the woman by her voice, but the eyes sealed her recognition. She had seen them in her mind a million times.
“Faleena!” Cary cried out and raced toward her sister, crashing into her and spinning her around. “Look at you! You look amazing!”
“Going for a dryad sort of appearance?” Saanvi asked, as she approached and waited for Cary to give her a turn hugging their sister.
“Some of my best work,” Finaeus said as he approached. “Well, not best-best; that was Cheeky.”
“Do you only make bodies for attractive women?” Cary asked, giving Finaeus an appraising look.
“What?” Finaeus’s face took on a wounded expression. “Well, I’ve never had someone come and ask me to make an ugly body. Plus, I do male builds, as well. Stars, I made this one, and it’s amazing.” He gestured to his torso, lowering his hand as though showing off a work of art.
“You made that body? I thought you were all-natural?”
Finaeus barked a laugh. “Cary, really. I’m almost seven thousand years old—over five of those out of the freezer. There’s not much original equipment left here.”
“Yeah, but did you make a whole new body for yourself?” she asked.
“Sure, this is actually my third. And no, I’m not an AI; I still have my original brain…mostly. That thing’s precious cargo.” He rapped a knuckle against his head.
“Well, I’m pleased with it, and I thank you for doing such excellent work,” Faleena said with a slight nod to Finaeus.
Cary wrapped her arms around her sister once more, absently noting that General Andre had wandered off to speak with their mother. “Stars, I sure miss having you in my head, Faleena.”
A slow breath escaped Cary’s lips, and she nodded while letting go of her younger sister.
Faleena placed a hand on Cary’s shoulder.
Cary groaned at the comment.
“OK, you two,” Saanvi rolled her eyes. “You can have your special chat later, c’mon, let’s get to the firepit before all the marshmallows are gone.”
“Is such a thing even possible?” Finaeus asked. “I think that’s one of the signs of the apocalypse.”
CORSIA
STELLAR DATE: 09.02.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Medbay, ISS Andromeda
REGION: Pyra, Albany System, Thebes, Septhian Alliance
Corsia opened the eyes on her organic frame and swept her gaze across the room. Though nothing within the medbay was different from how the room had appeared before she shifted her consciousness, the change in perception was profound.
Seconds ago, the room had been a part of her body, a cell in the macrocosm that was the ISS Andromeda. Now it was a thing that she occupied, an outward boundary, not an inner container.
She lifted the frame’s hand and unfurled the five fingers, marveling at the care it took to do slowly and not in a single, abrupt motion.
“You look good,” Jim said from where he stood, a warm smile on his face. “Not as good as Andromeda, but still good.”
Corsia opened her mouth and tried to speak. “Youf sfs I—” she paused, then responded with her mind.
A laugh escaped Jim’s lips, as he walked toward Corsia and placed his hands on her shoulders, the sensation sending an electric tingle through her body. “You’re the one that picked an organic frame. You could have gone with a mechanical one.”
Corsia shrugged, unable to hold back a shudder as Jim ran his hands down her arms, and clasped her digits in his own.
Jim shrugged. “We build up patterns to manage the input. You know this.”
“Yeah,” Corsia managed to say aloud.
“They’re going to be shocked to see you like this,” Jim said as he waved a holomirror into existence, and Corsia looked her frame over—from the inside out, not the outside in.
She’d picked a body that matched what she thought a strong, matriarchal woman should look like. Lithe, square shoulders, not too full in the hips or breasts, the body of a person in motion, trim and fit.
Silver eyes rested atop high cheekbones, divided by a long, straight nose. It was perhaps a hair too large, but Corsia liked that. It was distinctive. Her lips were full and red, but not too wide, and her brow, while stern, sloped gently to meet her silver hair.
Corsia said with a nod.
“You somehow managed to make a woman’s body look like a starship,” Jim replied. “That’s no small feat.”
A guffaw escaped Jim’s lips as he placed a hand on one of Corsia’s breasts. “In here?”
“You know,” Jim said wistfully. “I haven’t touched a woman’s breasts in centuries.”
“Oh, funny now, are we?” Jim asked with a shake of his head.
Seconds later, Tanis strode into the room, nodding to both. “You know, Corsia, following Sera’s example doesn’t really fit the ISF dress code.”
“You invited me,” Tanis said, rolling her eyes while Jim handed Corsia a loose robe.
“Here to see us off?” he asked.
“Yes, and to make sure you don’t do anything crazy. Negotiate the deal, establish the station and gate route, and then come back. We’ll send the gate team once you have an agreement in place.”
Something in Tanis’s voice seemed off to Corsia, as though she had a respiratory illness of some sort—though Corsia knew that wasn’t possible. Tanis hadn’t been sick once in the century they’d known one another.
“Are you worried?” Jim asked before Corsia could voice a concern, something that annoyed her. Organic vocalization systems were frustratingly slow.
“No.” Tanis shook her head. “I just need you for another mission as soon as this is over. I plan to send an advance fleet to the Pleiades, and I want you to lead it.” She directed the last statement to Corsia.
“Me?” Corsia couldn’t hide the shock in her voice; yet another thing she’d have to work on.
A twinkle of mischief was in Tanis’s eyes. “Well, Jim’s a master chief, which holds a lot of respect, but I don’t think there’s a direct path
from there to Admiral.”
“Shift,” Corsia whispered. “Er…shit.” She switched from audible speech.
A momentary look of worry flashed across Tanis’s features, but then she resumed her usual serene appearance. “I’m a bit…changed by the experience, but in this case, all is well. On top of the promotion to Admiral, I’m putting you in command of the Seventh ISF fleet, which will be bolstered by elements from the TSF’s 9801st.”
“Holy crap,” Jim shook his head, then winked at Corsia. “About time Tanis saw your brilliance.”
“Well, first you have to deal with this little jaunt to the IPE. With luck, it shouldn’t take more than a week or two at most. We’ll have a gate ready once you give the word.”
“OK,” Corsia nodded, speaking slowly. “I’ll square away things in the Inner Praesepe Empire, and be ready to head to the Trisilieds before you know it.”
“Excellent,” Tanis replied. “Find a uniform and meet me in your officer’s mess. We’ll celebrate your promotion with a BLT. Trust me, you’re never going to leave your organic body again once you have one.”
Corsia laughed and shook her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
* * * * *
A few hours later, Corsia stood on the bridge of the Andromeda, soaking in the new experience that was standing inside the heart of her ship.
Corsia sighed as she glanced at the holographic image that her third youngest daughter preferred to project.