by M. Garnet
"Do you know where that ship is headed?"
Thinking for a moment, she frowned. "Nope, and it doesn't matter."
"Do you know what they are hauling?"
Now she shifted her weight and sighed. "Does it make any difference? I need to get off this world…" and away from certain men in my life. She finished that sentence in her mind. At last, she looked beyond his large figure and past the moving objects. "What happened back there?"
"Just a discussion. Forget about this world." He moved as if to block her from the fight and even Fargo. "I have a ship. Come on; we need to leave now."
He walked around her and started down the dock area, ignoring the floating machinery. To her surprise, it seemed like all the equipment moved out of his way. "Well, Toy, it is one way to get out of here. We can dump him later. You can conk him on the head, and we can dump him and take his ship. Yep, that's a good plan." Traci began to follow the male, who was making a clear path for them.
"Do I know how to conk him?" Came the tinny voice from behind her.
"Don't worry; I will give you instructions." As she spoke and turned her head towards the bot, she ran into Bridge. It was like running into a wall; he was so solid.
"Oomph. Hey, a little warning, please." Traci stepped back, and that caused her to make a noise as she jolted into Toy.
"Hear that noise." Bridge held up a hand and asked.
Waiting for a second, she finally answered. "I hear all kinds of noises. There is the movement of the equipment, and small horns, and even my bot is clanking."
"Exactly. He is clanking. Tell him to get rid of the junk so that he can move fast and in silence."
Moving sideways so that she was away from Bridge and could also see the bulky robot. "Okay, Toy. I guess you don't have to be trying to act like a work bot any longer. You can take off all the extra material and put it over in one of the piles."
"Okay, Mistress Bea."
The two humans watched the hefty robot slide away, and in the dark, it disappeared into a pile of crates. It only took a couple of moments before Toy appeared again in its normal appearance as a shiny personal service bot. But it still had the small hauling bot attached to its side.
When it pulled up next to Traci, she looked at Bridge and then at Toy. "Toy, why are you keeping that little unit?"
"I am saving it." The tinny voice had no emotion.
Sighing, Traci threw up her hands. "Toy, this thing doesn't even work. You need to leave it with the junk. We need to go with Bridge to his ship fast."
"But you saved me. I save Tiny, and I fix." The tinny voice was easy to hear as the head bobbed on the long thin, flexible neck pipe.
"Wait." Bridge stepped close. "You named that piece?"
"My friend named me Toy, so I named it Tiny. I fix it." Toy did not move as the big guy stood with firm legs apart and hands on his waist, pushing back the heavy coat.
"We don't have time for this. Come on." Bridge turned and began to take long strides to move through the deliveries.
They made a strange parade with the big guy who looked so dangerous, a small woman dressed in dirty clothes. She was followed by a shiny personal service bot that had a small worker bot attached. The one thing no one noticed was that they were all very quiet.
Traci/Roma had to wonder what kind of ship this Dark Guardian had and where they would be going?
Chapter Eighteen
The small ship was a Mark VI Alpha. That meant that there were only six of these unusual fast ships ever built, and no one knew if all of them were still operating. One of these rare ships' costs was about the annual budget for a year of a civilized world.
Bridge settled down in the pilot's chair and pulled up controls that surrounded him in see-through holo displays. Traci locked herself into his private bunkroom that was surprisingly spacious. Toy was in the back in the open sector for storage, doing something with his new little toy.
Bridge's small, fast ship was not alone. Two other special ships also took off behind and were soon on his tail. They might not be the Alpha, but they were just as impressive as small decked-out ships with enough weapons to discourage most conversations. Still, the three Dark Guardian ships did not have any regular identification, as they did not have names or numbers. Near the nose on both sides were tiny wings, with one being white while the other was black. It was the only symbol of the DG.
The tiny black and white wings were tattooed somewhere on the warrior's body upon graduation from the training process. It was the person's choice, and Bridge's mark was on his left chest. He stood up, thinking to go and check on the female when the ship was hit.
The missile strike did not harm the little ship with all its protection, but there was still a reaction that knocked the ship and threw Bridge across the tight control area. Pain shot through his body as he was stabbed by the edge of the back of the pilot's seat.
Ignoring his discomfort, he fought to get into the chair that immediately wrapped him safely for protection. From that point onward, he took over control of the ship from the limited AI that had the ship's shield up.
Someone was attacking all three of the DG ships. The smart little, heavily weaponized vessels spread out, each moving in a different direction. But they weren't running, as they each took a large curve, and like a large flower, they were coming back onto the larger assailants. The aggressors had taken on the wrong small guys.
There are things about battles in space. First, it is not as fast as one would think. There is all that room for everything to move around, and then there is the time to get from one place to another. If you are making a jump in the alternative control with a thread of tangent in your engine, it was instantly. But if you were traveling from moons to planets to satellites in normal space, there were the rules of real physics to play with, so it took time.
You could see a missile coming, but it was hard to judge how soon you had really seen it and how long it had been on its mission. If you needed to turn and return to a place, no matter how fast your ship, there were still time laws, and by the time you turned, the other ship could have left.
So, pilots and the people that ran the weapons had to work in the future and guess where something would be as they moved. One would shoot missiles ahead with the hope it was where it would catch a ship that had traveled to that point. The pilot would serve to guess that he was going out of the way of a missile he couldn't see yet.
Everyone used computers that could predict what would happen in the future in a battle. Bridge punched in the battle AI and was looking at a special screen that showed ships that weren't real. So what Bridge was doing was fighting an unreal battle. It all depended on his skill as a pilot and the battle AI's expertise on his ship.
Of course, the attacking vessels also had the same type of equipment and were also fighting in the future, sending out missiles at ghosts. But the difference between the big attackers and the small DG ships was like a mosquito on a man's back. That bug was going to bite because its size allowed it to escape and land fast.
Finally, on a front screen, Bridge saw the fat flair of light from the engines in real-time, and he fired lasers down that glow. Even pulling away, the explosion sent out enough waves to cause a shift of his Alpha, even as he pushed the power. There was no atmosphere to carry the sound of the explosion of that ship, and the light blinked out with some debris burning trails of sparks.
Far away on the AI battle screen was another explosion, as another DG ship demolished one more of the large vessels. At this point, it looked like the war was done as the other spaceships began to pull away. Watching on the AI battle screen, it was apparent that there was nothing to chase, but Bridge left the screen and AI on as he bent over, finally feeling his pain.
"I can help." It was the strange tin voice of Traci's robot at his side.
"Hey," Bridge looked up. "How did you get here?"
"I can help." Toy reached out with several metal arms that were nothing more than round thin bendable metal ext
rusions with multiple fingers at the end. One held a cotton ball, one held a white cloth, and another held a bottle that looked like an antiseptic.
Taking only a second to think, Bridge nodded. After all, this silver bot was a personal service unit and patched up the scratches on children to the wounds on soldiers. He opened his shirt and slid on arm out, sat back to let the bot work on his long cut. Using his other arm, he shut off the battle AI and made sure the ship's AI had them directed to a jump point.
"What the hell happened?" It was Traci, holding onto the round door lock of the control room. "I was thrown all over the room. Why didn't you tell me you were going to make some acrobatic moves before twisting the ship? I could have been hurt, or…" she stopped as she got closer and saw that Toy was working on Bridge. The bot was wiping away blood and exposing an extended cut over his ribs on one side.
Stepping to the other side of the chair from where Toy was working, she spoke in a lower voice. "What did happen?"
"Your boyfriend sent some guys to stop us. They were a bit rough. The first jerk you felt, and where I got hurt, was from a missile that had our name on it." He looked down as other rods came out of the bot, and the wound was being closed with the spray of clear skin.
Traci took a white rag with blood from Toy to give it a chance to bring out from its body another piece of equipment. Toy held up some red cotton balls and Traci turned around to look for something to dump these in until they could be put in the recycling unit. There was no loose trash canister, as everything was built into the consoles of this work area.
Pulling his shirt off the other arm, she decided he had others, and this would need too much work anyways; she used it to collect everything that Toy handed her. Eventually, Toy was done and, in his tin sounding voice, gave instructions.
"You should not do unusual efforts until that heals." With that, Toy turned and rolled out of the area, having to pull down into a smaller size to get out of the short round door lock.
Turning in the close quarters of the control sector, she saw the slot for throw-a-ways. Tossing in everything, including his shirt, Traci looked over to see Bridge working on a flat keyboard.
"You need another shirt."
"Yes, but you're in my cabin." Bridge sat back, as it seemed he had everything under control with the ship.
"Don't be silly. Come on." She held out a hand, which was strange, comparing her slight size and his strong build. Surprisingly, he did take her hand. He didn't pull on it as he got up. She couldn't help but admire his chest and arms that were strong without excess weight; just muscles and bone. She noticed that although he was a big man, there was not the bulging of someone who worked out to make heavy shapes on arms and legs. No, it was just strength molded into a reasonable shape that could handle any situation.
With the light from the ceiling, she saw a miniature insignia of two small wings on the side of his chest. Strange that he would put something so small on his chest. Why not a big eagle on his arm?
Bridge moved from the chair on the side away from her, so she followed him out of the control room and down the tight hall to the cabin door. The next area was open and was the mess room and sitting area in this ship's limited size.
The cabin was comfortable but also limited in size. The built-in bunk was more significant than could be expected in such a cabin. As he moved to a cabinet to pull out clothes, Traci went over to the bunk to straighten the blankets.
Turning quickly, Traci found herself up against the tall male in the small cabin. For some reason, she didn't understand; she didn't want to pull away.
"You have a bruise on your forehead." His voice was low, as he was so close, looking down into her eyes.
"I was thrown off the bed when the attack started." Now it was her voice that was low. She didn't move her head away as he came lower, and she felt his hot breath touch her lips. She opened her mouth and waited.
There are many ways of dancing in human history. It has changed and evolved as humans have transformed. Yet, some of the movements have never altered. There was the one that groups did when drums were introduced into a constant sound. There was the natural movement that a foot would tap out when music hit the right notes. Then there was the oldest dance of all when two people fell together, and the heat of their bodies allowed them to join in a feeling of emotions and orgasms.
It was something that was rare to only human beings and was something to enjoy in many different ways. These two enjoyed it for a long period of time in the privacy of the cabin as the small ship made a predetermined jump and moved through the deep dark.
But at last, they both knew they had to come out of the warmth of the cabin and face reality. She was a female on the run from the rules imposed on her by the Organization of Worlds, and he was a committed soldier in the group of the Dark Guardians. Their lives were not meant to continue together.
There was little talk on the Alpha as it moved through space. They ate meals together in the crowded mess room. Toy would come through to see them in the control area or to clean up as they ate. It was always busy in the back, as it worked on the unit it had repaired and seemed to be playing around with it in some strange way.
There came a morning when, after getting a shower and dressing in clean clothes, the female came out to pick up two cups of coffee and take them to the control area.
Each time the bot approached either of them, it said the same thing. "Can I help you?" It said it in the tin metal voice that was the built-in voice box.
The first couple of times, Traci said no, but then because of the strange vibes inside the ship, she decided that Toy might need something. So, she started finding small things for him to do, like changing the blankets on the bunk and cooking a meal. It did seem to please the service bot to have projects. Perhaps some of the original programmings were still working within the metal body.
Now, setting the second cup of coffee beside the quiet Bridge, she leaned on the console so that she was facing him.
"Bridge, is that your name?"
For the first time in a while, he smiled. "Is Traci or Roma or Moxxi your name?"
"So, where are we going?" She looked over her shoulder through the clear metal at the strange movement of light as they went through another jump.
"I'm taking you home."
Chapter Nineteen
It was hot here on the edge of the desert. The short trees and green grass on the gentle hills demarked where the water was available before the desert began. The green quickly turned into brown and dried orange as some hardy shrubs survived in the dry area.
Along this area, where the land turned to sand, was where the strange plants grew that the OOW forbid to allow the inhabitants to encourage them to spread. The dried stems that would send off seeds in the wind sparkled in the light of the moon like diamonds.
Other than being fascinating, the seeds were collected and used in the mating dances. A dance that was now forbidden because of the DNA's misuse which happened to a dancer and the opposite.
Lila Beam came out to the top of a hill and sat down, wrapping her arms around her knees and waited for the large moon to rise over the desert. Off in the distance, she could see dunes, and with a slight hot breeze on her, she saw a sand devil form and then drop down.
This was a regular for her since she had been home on her world for almost a year. Lila thought that she should be happy to be back among her people again. She did not have to hide and remember which name she was using, as she woke up in a home with friends nearby.
When she was dropped off at the spaceport, Lila had made her way by foot and with generous farmers, who gave her rides. She traveled to the small city of her birth and made contact with distant cousins. They welcomed her with open arms and warm hearts. They helped her get the perfect apartment. It was half of a rental home on the outskirts of the city on a quiet street.
It was private, with an elderly couple in the other half. She never heard them, except for a wave as they passed on the sidew
alks. The separate entries, and different flower boxes, let her come and go without saying anything to anyone. Within the first month, she found a job close by at a boxing plant.
They had contracts to box up anything that their clients sent in for shipping worldwide and off on spaceships. The job did not require a lot of intelligence, but because items were constantly changing, it was something that couldn't be done by programmable robots.
She sat on a comfortable stool, and as something came down an automated slot, she would pick it up and decide if it was medicine, explosives, or a pretty doll. Then she would punch in a number on a pad, and behind her, a robot would send out a box with the proper packing material. She had the choice of wrapping it or sending the items down a belt for a robot to wrap. It was up to her to decide how the item was to be handled. She would send the doll to the robot, and she would wrap the explosives.
The robot down the line on her belt was a strange one that had been installed at her request, and it worked independently from the factory's overall control. It was Toy, who she trusted to wrap some fragile items, that other robots could not handle.
On her way home most nights, she would stop and pick up a bit of food at an open market that they walked past. She let Toy carry the bags and sometimes let it fix the meal. She gave it the garage as its room, as she didn't have a vehicle. It seemed to please the bot in its strange way. The bot had the small worker bot that it was programming in that garage. The worker bot was limited, as the brain chip was small. But it belonged to Toy.
Twice a month, she walked with others down to a square, where everyone met in the evening and talked and drank and danced. This was a world of dancing, even if the OOW forbade one type.
Even in the small cities, these people loved to dance more than on any other world. The elderly would rock back and forth to the rhythm. Little children would clap their tiny hands and smile. Older children would form large circles while holding hands and laugh and dance until they fell.