by C. Gockel
Volka blinked. And realized the tentacles were actually a shapely metal arm and leg, and that Walker’s head was pillowed on his shoulder. Walker’s eyes were closed, her lips were parted, and she was breathing gently. Dr. Walker was metal from her fingers to her shoulder, and from her toes to her hips. It was odd how much more human Sixty looked than the cyborg. At that thought, Volka’s eyes inadvertently traveled down the length of his body. Face going red, hand going to her mouth, she backed back out the door.
Alaric was in the “shop,” looking over Dr. Walker’s cleaned envirosuit. Lieutenant Young was standing beside it, speaking in a booming voice and gesturing wildly. “If we put this in the escape pod, I can set the external heat-releasing fibers to simulate human body temperature, and listen to this…” From the suit came a man’s voice. “Please, help me. I am a hopeless coward and want to surrender.” The voice was not at all robotic, however…
“A little maudlin, don’t you think?” Alaric asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll need to come up with something more natural,” Young said. “But the point is, if we put this in the escape pod and use it to contact the crew aboard the gate, the people, aliens, thing, might hesitate.”
Alaric’s brow furrowed.
The suit began to speak again. “I am a combat Marine of the Galactic Fleet with a Ph.D. in astrophysics with a specialty in kali particle suspension. I’m too smart to die!”
“That isn’t even reasonable,” Alaric said. He kept his volume low, his tone absolutely flat, though he was annoyed with the young man’s flippancy.
Young’s expression went blank. A blush spread from his neck to his hairline. Alaric fixed him with the glare he used on his men and his children when he wanted them to settle down and behave.
“My Ph.D. is in astrophysics,” Young said. His voice became defensive. “And it’s not just theoretical experience that got me shipped out on this mission. I worked in time band manufacturing.”
Alaric stared at him. Young didn’t look a day over twenty-five.
Misunderstanding his expression, Young said, “I know what you’re thinking, but I joined the Fleet late. Just two Earth years ago. I didn’t spend thirty-one years in service before making Lieutenant.”
“How old are you?” Alaric asked, his composure slipping.
“Sixty-four,” said Young.
Alaric’s teeth ground, and for a moment, a wave of jealousy washed through him. Young wouldn’t just look younger for a long time, he would live longer. That was the sort of technology only available to archbishops on Luddeccea. His lips pressed together in bitterness…and exasperation. Young was old enough to be his father, but he had the mannerisms of a child. Maybe Alaric’s people were right; maybe with the increase in technology came a loss of wisdom. “You have no children,” Alaric said, composure lost for the second time in hours. It was the first part of a Luddeccean cliché that basically meant someone was a fool.
“No,” said Young, looking confused.
The second part of the cliché was, “You are not an adult until you have children,” but Alaric kept it to himself for the sake of diplomacy. He looked back at the suit. “You believe it will make them hesitate before they fire on the pod?” The plan was to send the pod in, manning it from just above the infected world’s atmosphere, out of visual range of the gate, utilizing relay buoys to extend the remote control. Traveling in its wake would be two drones carrying the Little Boys. When the pod was destroyed by the gate’s defenses, the drones carrying the Little Boys would use the pod’s debris as camouflage and navigate closer to the gate.
“It might, and if it does, it will increase the odds of success from…” Young’s eyes became vacant. “...92.7 to 96.3 percent.”
With a grim smile, Alaric hid his unease at the easy way Young plucked those numbers from the air, or rather, from the apps plugged into his brain. To the Lieutenant, he said, “I do like to be over prepared. Make it happen.”
“Will do, sir,” said Young. The Galactican’s eyes briefly went to Volka’s suit next to Walker’s. “It’s too small to pass,” Young said in a voice that was disturbingly close to awed. “It’s a child’s suit updated to military spec.”
Volka wasn’t particularly small for a weere woman, still, she was dwarfed by everyone aboard. And when she’d fallen asleep at the conference table, so close Alaric could have run a hand between her ears, she’d looked all of sixteen. But his Little Volka was a pirate killer and truth speaker. She’d revealed the Little Boys either out of loyalty to humanity, to Luddeccea, or maybe even him. All of those options were…interesting. As had been the android’s declaration that, “Volka is monogamous.”
Alaric’s fingers twitched at the memory. The quartermaster had put her in a berth two doors down from his quarters. If she still wanted him…
He brought his attention back to the shop and Young. The Galactican Lieutenant tapped his neural port. “I’ll need a heat source on the inside for the fibers to draw from. The more human shaped, the better.”
To the two mechanics in the room, Alaric said, “You’ll work with Lieutenant Young and build something that meets those criteria.”
“Yes, sir,” they said.
“Don’t let him on the computer terminal,” Alaric said to the weere priest in the room.
Young touched his chest as though to say, Who me? Alaric narrowed his eyes, and Young shrugged.
“Yes, sir,” said the priest.
“I’ve got some ideas. We’ll fire up the 3D printer, sir,” said one of the mechanics.
“You have 3D printers?” Young asked.
Alaric did not roll his eyes. “Luddeccean ships, although well made, occasionally need parts replaced.”
The lieutenant had the decency to look sheepish.
Alaric raised an eyebrow and almost smiled. “No hard feelings,” he said. “I am grateful for your help. I think this unorthodox partnership is going to work.” Which would definitely be in his favor if the new premier—whoever that eventually was—decided it was an unnecessary risk.
Young nodded and grinned. “I think it will.”
Alaric’s short-range communicator beeped. “Excuse me,” he said, stepping into the hallway. Just before the door closed, he heard one of his mechanics say, “Our ships need new parts, especially when you let your damned pirates escape into our space.” Alaric smiled tightly, glad someone had gotten that barb in. They sustained a lot of damage hunting the Republic’s trash. Of course, that trash made a lot of their technological “advances” possible.
He clicked his comm and his doctor’s voice came on. “Sir, you wanted a report.” The man sounded tired, and Alaric immediately expected the worst.
“Yes, continue, Dr. Choi,” Alaric said.
“Dr. Lang, the female researcher, had rapid-test kits for the pathogen. When she came to full consciousness, she was able to tell us where they were and how to use them. We checked Russo, Silva, and the Galactican. They all tested positive.”
Alaric bowed his head.
“I gave them the highest dosage of anti-bacterials I could safely administer. We may be able to create a bacteriophage for this disease, but that will take time and…” He sighed. “If the woman is correct, the pathogen mutates very rapidly.”
“Containment is essential for now,” Alaric said.
“Yes, sir...and, sir, there is one other development. That android—the one that looks like a Euro-throwback—it was here. Seemed…distraught. Said that its friend isn’t in the airlock you’d set aside for them to power up in.”
“Do you know where the android is now?” Alaric asked.
“Which one?”
“Either, both,” Alaric replied.
“The Euro one said he was on his way to the brig and promised there would be hell to pay if its friend was there.”
Alaric would have been told if the missing android had gotten into any mischief that warranted the brig.
The doctor continued. “The other one—Sixty—left here
about an hour or so ago. I don’t know where it went.”
Alaric started walking briskly to the stairs. Passing the two guards to the bridge and officers’ quarters, he said, “Volka, Miss Volka, is she with you?”
“No, she left.”
Disconnecting, Alaric took the stairs two at a time.
Volka stumbled into the hallway, her back hitting the opposite wall.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs made her turn…and there was Alaric, his brow furrowed, his worry roiling her stomach.
Her lips twisted. He was Captain Darmadi. She wasn’t allowed to call him Alaric.
“Volka, are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, I was…just going to my room.” She stared at the door that she had no intention of going back through.
“Are you having some trouble with the door?” He asked, striding toward her.
She gritted her teeth. “I know how to open a sliding door, Captain.”
“I don’t doubt that, but maybe it is locked,” he said, voice perfectly level despite her outburst. He reached toward the button, and she said, “No…it’s just…” Alaric paused, and his icy blue eyes met hers. She looked down. “Sixty and Dr. Walker are in there. I, ah…interrupted them.”
Alaric had a small black rectangle in his hand, and he immediately lifted it. It crackled, and she realized it was a radio of some sort.
“Don’t get him in trouble!” Volka said. “Sixty can’t help it, and I think…” She remembered how comfortable Sixty and Dr. Walker had looked together. “They both needed a little comfort after the day and night we had.”
“The other android is looking for Sixty,” Alaric said, not dropping the device. “I just want Sinclair to know Sixty has been found.”
“Oh,” said Volka.
Alaric pressed a button on the communicator. “The lost android is in the officers’ wing. It’s fine. Let the other one know.”
He dropped the communicator to his side, and his eyes met Volka’s again. She knew, with whatever understanding that was awakening in her, that he didn’t know what to say. Despite his stoic exterior, he was overwhelmed to be next to her, just as she was overwhelmed being next to him. She could smell him, almost feel his body heat. He was also relieved to have her safe. Which was extraordinarily unfair.
“Thank you for not ordering me shot this time,” she snapped. It was the most disrespectful thing she’d ever said to him.
His jaw got hard. “Last time I ordered you shot, I thought you were destined to a fate worse than death.”
Her stomach twisted. He was being sincere, but how was that possible?
“I thought that you were being mind-controlled by the android.” He leaned toward her. “I thought you, of all people, would want to die. You’d want your soul protected.”
Volka let out a breath, remembering the scorched earth around her only hours ago and the suicide pact she’d almost entered. He knew her. And his lips were far too close. Turning away, she said, “You were right.” It came out very small. She swallowed her anger. “Thank you for rescuing us. All of us.” Her ears went back submissively. He’d rescued their team and was about to rescue every human in the galaxy. “I can’t believe Luddeccea is letting you do this,” she said, glancing back up at him.
His lips curled wryly.
“They aren’t letting you do this, are they?” she whispered, heart thumping wildly. She just knew.
He exhaled and gazed heavenward. “Things are tumultuous right now. We didn’t ask permission.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he winced. “Hopefully, all will be well when we beg forgiveness.”
It was the most unguarded she’d seen him since coming onboard. She had the sensation of her stomach flipping over and knew it was his apprehension she felt. She took in the new gray in his temples, the lines around his eyes and in his forehead, his recent gauntness, and felt like she was seeing him for the first time. Once she’d idolized him and seen him as perfect. Now she saw him as a man with many flaws—but he was still a good man willing to take extraordinary risks to do the right thing. Her fingers curled. Everything would be so much simpler if he were like Ran or Counselor Abraham.
There were footsteps on the stairs, and he stepped back. From just out of sight, Volka head Trina say, “If the plan doesn’t work…This could be our last night. I want to spend it with you, John,” and then John’s response, “It won’t be our last night, but we should spend it together.”
There was a moment of silence that was too heavy, where Volka could imagine their bodies pressed together. Their footsteps resumed, and moments later, John and Trina entered the narrow hallway of the officer’s wing. They nodded at Volka and Alaric but didn’t make eye contact. “Excuse us,” said John. Alaric and Volka pressed themselves against the wall and let the two pass. Without a word, the couple entered a berth together.
Watching the door close, Volka’s ears went back. “Well, I guess they deserve a little comfort, too.”
“What about you, Volka?” Alaric whispered. “Do you deserve comfort?” Her chest tightened. She knew it wasn’t only her comfort he was thinking of, and yet she knew he’d give her that. She could forget about everything in his arms with those lips on her. After all the years apart, her body remembered and was responding to him already. Hadn’t they both deserved a little respite from rules of God and society? He was as much a victim of Luddeccea’s strict mores as she was, but when they were alone, they weren’t officer and civilian, weere and human, or even man and woman, they were one flesh.
Alaric’s hand came up and almost touched her cheek, but at the sound of footsteps in her room, he snapped his hand behind his back. She knew his lips were burning as much as hers. Breathless, she almost nodded.
Before she could, the door to her berth slid open and 6T9 came out, pulling a gray knit pullover over his head. His perfectly toned midriff had Eliza’s ashes attached with surgical tape. As soon as the door shut behind him and his head was out of his shirt, he whispered, “Sorry about that. She couldn’t sleep, and I offered to help her relax. I helped. Three times.” Frowning, he muttered, “So far from a personal best.”
His eyes went to Alaric and then back to her. He grimaced. “I’m interrupting you two, aren’t I?” One of his eyes closed, and he patted a thigh, looking between them again. “Nebulas, I guess there’s no chance you’d let me watch?”
Alaric’s fist flew out before Volka could speak. 6T9’s head bounced off the hallway wall. Volka gasped. What Alaric had just done…was a perfectly Luddeccean response by a man to another man who was insulting his wife’s honor. It did funny things to her insides.
“Oh, it’s you again,” 6T9 said to Alaric. “We can resume our scenario.”
Volka winced. His Q-comm had slipped out, and he thought he was back on Libertas in the inn about to engage in “maintenance” with the Luddeccean Guardsmen stationed there.
Looking at Volka, 6T9 licked his lips. “They said a girl was coming.”
Alaric moved almost too fast for her to see, and Sixty was flat on his back on the floor a moment later. Sixty groaned in a way that sounded lascivious rather than pained. “Thankfully, I had my masochism settings on high.”
Alaric was over him in an instant. He knocked Sixty beneath the chin, hopefully knocking his Q-comm back into place. “Stop,” Volka said, grabbing his arm. “He can’t help it! Especially if you knock him on the back of his head.”
“What is wrong with him?” Alaric said.
6T9 sighed. “I’m a very bad android who needs some good, hard discipline.”
“Are you trying to get throttled?” Volka asked. Was his Q-comm still offline, or was it just his need to reboot?
“Yes, ma'am,” said Sixty, biting his lip and batting his eyelashes.
“Be quiet!” said Alaric.
“Yes, sir,” 6T9 replied with a wink. He pantomimed zipping his mouth shut.
“Volka—” Alaric started to say, still standing over Sixty’s body, but heavy footsteps on the
stairs made them both look in that direction. Volka stepped away from Alaric, and an instant later James’s blonde head came into view. His blue eyes zeroed in on Sixty, and his face contorted into a look of pure rage. “James,” Volka said, jogging toward the other android, but he was already a blur heading toward Alaric. Growling, Volka stepped to the side before he could knock her over, but she swung out her left leg with every ounce of her strength, catching James’s shin. Falling forward, James threw out his arms to brace them on the narrow walls. With a cry, Volka launched herself from her right leg and jammed her knees into the small of his back, toppling him. Her knees splayed to either side of his body as he fell. Pain shot from her shin as her legs hit the floor, but she didn’t get up. Grabbing him by the hair, she started banging his head against the floor. “You. Will. Not. Kill. Anyone!” Someone was growling furiously. Holding James’s head up, she grunted. “Sixty. Was. Being. Culturally. Insensitive!” That was an expression she’d only learned recently in the Republic. She banged James’s head again. “He’s not even really hurt! He wants more!”
“True,” she heard Sixty say, as though from a great distance. “But Volka…”
Somewhere someone shouted, “Captain, is everything all right up here?”
Somewhere closer than Sixty, Alaric said, “We’re fine. Leave us!” A moment later, his breath so close it tickled her ear, Alaric said, “Volka, my little pirate and android killer, you can stop.” She could feel his smile against the side of her face like sunlight. Which was when she realized that the person growling was her. Also, James was patting the floor in the universal sign for mercy, looking up at Sixty, who was standing in front of him.
“Couldn’t you have used Time Gate 1 to find Sixty?” Volka demanded of James.
“I tried, but 1 wouldn’t answer,” James replied.
“Daddy 1 was my wingman!” Sixty declared with a whoop. Throwing up his hands, he cried, “Thank you, Daddy 1!”
“Wingman? What are you talking about?” James asked.
Sixty waggled his eyebrows and said, “What I’m always talking about.” And then Sixty slapped a hand over his face. “I need to reboot!”