“Marius, of course.”
This was a perfect opening.
“You seem to be close to each other,” angled Nyondo. “How long have you served with him?”
“Ten years. Marius is considered a key leader among our people. My posting as his adjacent is a great honor.”
“You two seem to work well together. I’ve always been curious about something. Your relationship with him, is it any more than professional?”
Glaring at Nyondo, the Lytori’s black front-facing eyes contrasted with her broad barn owlish face. Perhaps Sulla hadn’t understood the question, or maybe she was annoyed by it. It could also be that Nyondo shouldn’t be prying into someone else’s personal business, particularly an alien’s.
“Ah!” Sulla proclaimed after a few seconds had passed. “Of course—you wish to know if we are mating partners!”
Nyondo’s brown skin might have hid most of her blushing, but it was there nonetheless. She already regretted bringing this up as Sulla enthusiastically continued.
“Although modern Lytori are assembled in a birthing plant, there is indeed a physical aspect involved. The mating ritual is actually quite intense.”
“Hold on a moment,” said Nyondo, her head spinning. “You are androids, right? If you are assembled in some sort of facility, then what is the mating for?”
“It was how our biological ancestors procreated. We perform the act to honor them. As I was about to say, males who wish to engage in a joining approach the female with their tibial stalks extended—”
“Whoa! Whoa!” said Nyondo holding up her hands. “Too much information! I just wanted to know how you felt about Marius. Do you like the guy or not?”
Sulla puckered her oblong beak-like mouth, apparently confused on what she was being asked.
Nyondo tried to clarify. “I wondered if you and Marius had any kind of personal relationship. Are you in love with each other?”
“Ahh!” Sulla chittered and tapped one long arm on the floor. “I have examined the files on human psychology. If you will permit an observation, Sunny Nyondo, I believe you are projecting here.”
“Wait—what?” asked Nyondo indignantly.
“Pro-jec-tion,” said Sulla carefully. “The process of denying one’s own unconscious impulses by—”
“I know what it means.”
“In this case, the projection of a positive quality, the projection of hope.”
“I said I know what it means,” snapped Nyondo before she went for a quick gulp from her coffee cup.
Sulla walked on her back four legs to the observation window. “Ship, increase the window size by fifty percent,” she ordered. The computer enlarged the wall image as the Lytori captain stared at it in silence.
“I’m sorry,” said Nyondo. “I didn’t mean to upset you, but you’ve—you’ve always been so strong. I didn’t think…” Her voice trailed off as she gently added, “I just didn’t think, that’s all.”
Turning back to her human counterpart, Sulla’s voice was pensive.
“In all this time, nobody aboard Heshke has ever guessed.”
Nyondo gave her a small smile. “Then they haven’t been paying very close attention.”
“It would take an outsider to see it. Lytori do not think in these terms. And to directly answer your question, personal relationships in our society are not based on love, not in the human sense.”
Nyondo struggled to understand. “But your people have feelings.”
“Yes, we possess emotions. In our culture, however, romance is negotiated by the concerned parties. Betrothals are either social or economic unions forged between two Lytori clans. It was the way of our Creators, and so it is ours as well.”
“And the family of Marius?”
“The family of Marius ranks far above Clan Sulla, Sunny Captain. Still, I have the privilege of assisting him in this time and place, and for that I am grateful.”
There was regret in Sulla’s voice and Nyondo mentally kicked herself for bringing the matter up. However, since they were having this discussion, she felt compelled to say what was on her mind.
“One more observation from an outsider,” Nyondo stated boldly. “Your people spend way too much time trying to mimic the Creators. Your organic forerunners are gone, they died off four centuries ago. It’s time the current Lytori determined their own ways.”
Sulla stood quietly, mulling over the comment. “Quite so,” she responded at last. “Interesting, is it not? My people stubbornly honor traditions they themselves did not create, while yours constantly race to undo the work of your ancestors. The inflexible Lytori and the audacious humans. Our two species complement each other in a unique way. The poor Massang—they never had a chance.”
“Captain Sulla declares victory!” thundered a voice entering the room.
“Admiral Marius!” exclaimed the surprised Sulla. “No, I didn’t mean…”
“But I heard you saying the Massang had no chance,” he said spreading his forearms wide.
“Exactly how much did you hear, sir?” asked Nyondo, her body stiffening in dread.
“Just that the Massang were doomed,” answered Pettigrew, who walked beside Marius as they returned from the fleet captains video conference. Trailing them was Lieutenant Aoki and the most recent addition to the Sarissan staff, Commander Uschi Mullenhoff.
“I certainly hope you’re right about that, Captain Sulla,” Pettigrew said making straight for the coffee dispenser. “Nyondo, what word from Leversee and Winston?”
“Ninth Fleet has already arrived at Quinnesec Prime, sir. Admiral Leversee and Third Fleet are on schedule and four days away. Sirs, on another matter, have you both seen the latest intel reports? The dispatches regarding Moz?”
“We have,” said Marius. “Lieutenant Ah-Oh-Key informed us of the new developments. It is most incredible.”
Nyondo picked up a datapad and gave it a cursory glance. “Word is that every major city on the planet was destroyed. Moz is one of their Core Worlds—how could that happen?”
“They’ve got a damn civil war on their hands, that’s how,” Pettigrew said handing a cup of coffee to Mullenhoff.
“And that should be good for us,” said Mullenhoff taking a sip. “Right?”
Aoki skimmed over her datapad and summarized the latest reports coming in. “According to intercepted comm traffic, OMI believes there almost certainly has been a coup d’état. Apparently, the new First Protector is one of the Shartoks, someone named Harradoss.”
The conference room fell silent as people looked around to each other, leaving Aoki in the dark. “Have I said something wrong?”
“No, Lieutenant,” Nyondo reassured the junior officer. “It was just that name. Harradoss is an old friend of Admiral Pettigrew.”
Aoki’s mouth fell open. “Sir, you actually know the new Massang leader?”
“We all do. In fact, Commander Mullenhoff here was one of Harradoss’s favorite humans.”
Before Mullenhoff could defend herself, Marius rose from his chair.
“It is time for Captain Sulla and I to return to our ship. My own staff will want to review this new information. If our people receive any additional details, I will pass them along.”
The Lytori duo departed for the shuttlebay along with Lieutenant Aoki to see them off. While Pettigrew sat down to enjoy his coffee, Nyondo moved to embrace Mullenhoff, her old comrade and friend.
“Uschi, so glad to have you aboard.”
“As I told Chaz, I’m just catching a ride to Quinnesec Prime.”
“What’s at Quinnesec Prime—besides a lot of work?”
“It’s not what, darling—it’s who,” grinned Mullenhoff.
“Ajax?” asked Nyondo in mock surprise. She already knew that Mullenhoff’s fellow engineer and longtime boyfriend slash fiancée was going to be at Quinnesec. “Sorry I haven’t had a chance to catch up with you. My overbearing boss keeps me busy. So, how did you like teaching at the Academy?”
&
nbsp; “Absolutely hated it. I don’t know why I thought I could ever teach those little snots anything. Truth is, I’m glad to be back with you guys. Hell, when I came aboard, I half expected to find David Swoboda on the bridge. Thought maybe you had gotten the band back together, Chaz.”
“That would be nice,” he said with a melancholy smile, “if it were possible.”
Nyondo understood. The old gang from the early days aboard Tempest could never be back together: too many were gone. Taylin Adams, Olivia Kuypers, Octavio Rojas… Nyondo was ashamed to admit that she couldn’t even remember some of the names, but she could see all of their faces in her mind—each and every one.
The sound of Mullenhoff’s voice brought her back to the present. “Listen, I have to meet with some engineers from the Wyvern before we jump. How about the three of us catch up over dinner tonight?”
The thought of fallen comrades left both Nyondo and Pettigrew sullen for a while after Mullenhoff left for her meeting. Nyondo sipped her coffee and worked at her console while Pettigrew sat and stared into his now empty cup.
Something about Mullenhoff was eating at Nyondo, something she needed to share. This isn’t exactly a military development, but he needs to know.
“Admiral, I need to tell you something,” she said tentatively.
He had moved back to the coffee dispenser, extending the half-filled clear decanter aloft. “Warm you up?”
“Not right now, thanks.”
“All right, Captain. What is it?” he asked sitting down next to her.
“Sir, regarding Commander Mullenhoff,” she began. Pettigrew leaned forward, a look of curiosity on his face. “I have a friend at Quinnesec Prime who sent me a personal message before we departed Sarissa. It has to do with Ajax Baker.”
“Oh, no,” groaned Pettigrew. “Is he…?”
“Dead? No, it’s nothing like that, sir. But my friend informs me that Commander Baker may have found a new girlfriend in Third Fleet.”
“And Mullenhoff doesn’t know? Poor Uschi,” he said. “They’ve been together for years.”
“Do you think I should tell her?” Nyondo wondered.
“About what? Some rumor that may turn out to be just gossip? Let it be, Captain. You know what they say—no good deed goes unpunished.”
Nyondo grunted in agreement, even though that wasn’t the advice she was hoping to hear. “Yeah, we should probably worry more for Ajax,” she said staring off, beginning to think ahead to all that needed to be done once they reached Quinnesec. “After Mullenhoff finds out, I have a feeling Ajax will have a better chance of survival against the Massang.”
10: Happenstance
ArcoSoleri
Planet Pontus
Carr rubbed a towel across the top of his hairless scalp and down over his face to remove the last of the depilatory cream. Walking from the bathroom into the bedroom, he looked up and saw someone in a housekeeper’s uniform. Her back was to him as she put the final touches on making the bed.
“Oh, sorry,” he said on reflex. “Didn’t realize you were in here.”
The vaguely female form stood upright and turned its blank face in his direction. There were no eyes, nose, or mouth—only the barest suggestion of those features, as if someone had fashioned a mask and quit before filling in the details. Mr. Birch of the hotel staff had mentioned the artificial domestics during check-in, but that hadn’t been sufficient warning for how creepy the things were.
Carr had seen pictures of the Lytori. They were androids too, but were modeled after a non-human species. These human automatons were more disturbing, despite the fact that they were amazingly adroit at their jobs. The Vahtaran merchants who marketed the mechanisms needed to give some serious consideration to rounding out their aesthetics. He shrugged to himself and stepped into the living area where two more robotic housekeepers were busy at work.
“The girls and I were just dishing the dirt,” joked Sanchez from the dining table. She had already ordered breakfast and was working on a slice of loquat fruit. “Sorry I didn’t wait for you, but I was hungry.”
Carr tossed aside the towel he was using. The second it landed on a nearby chair, one of the silent housekeepers walked quickly to gather it up while another appeared at his side holding out a robe.
“Do your friends here have any news?” he asked, slipping the robe on and pouring himself a cup of coffee as he sat down at the table.
Sanchez nodded toward one of the automatons. “Well, Emily there says that Mr. Simmons on Level Twenty-Two had a female visitor overnight—a very young female visitor, and this isn’t the first time it’s happened.” The speechless face of the robotic housekeeper turned Sanchez’s way but continued with its sweeping.
“I love the girls, but just between you and me,” said Sanchez in mock confidentiality, “all they do is gab, gab, gab.”
“Very funny. Actually, I was hoping to hear some real news.” They had been planetside for three days now and aside from the initial contact with Yunru Lin, nothing had turned up.
“I’m all out of real news for now,” said Sanchez as she watched the androids finish the vacuuming. “Not sure which I find more unsettling—that they made them without faces or that the hotel dresses them in the same uniforms as the human housekeepers.”
Sanchez bit into another fruit slice and turned to business.
“What about today? Are we hitting Wright again?” For two days now, they had made the short trip over to ArcoWright’s Level 28 to survey the migrant Gerrhan community. The only thing they found out was that the people who lived here in ArcoSoleri enjoyed a far superior standard of living. ArcoWright was older, and for the most part, pretty much a dump.
“Let’s skip Wright today. Maybe we could hit the other arcology, the third one—what was it called?”
“ArcoChen,” she answered, passing him a plate of sliced honeymeat. “You know, we could cover more territory if we split up.”
“No,” he declared straightaway. This topic was becoming a sore point.
“I know exactly what’s going through that thick head of yours,” chided Sanchez. “Stop trying to protect me.”
“Look, I’m not—” He was interrupted by a daily ritual of the automatonic housekeepers. Each morning after finishing their work, the three of them lined up and silently bowed to the room guests before leaving.
“Thank you,” said Sanchez. As the automatons filed out the door, her voice dropped into a whisper. “Thank you for being so incredibly disturbing…”
Carr shoved a small croissant into his mouth in hopes it would somehow save him from continuing the discussion, but all it got him was a contemptuous glare. She wasn’t going to let this drop.
“You’ve been pissy this entire trip. At first, I thought you were just mad about leaving the Old London dig for so long, but that’s not it, is it? It’s me. You’re worried about me. For the love of the Gods, I’m not exactly an amateur, you know.”
“I know that,” he said, forcing the last of the pastry down with some juice. “I also know that neither you nor I have done this type of work for a long time. It’s just…” Just that he was worried he would somehow screw up and get her hurt. Just that he never wanted to be without her. Just that for some reason, he didn’t even want to say it out loud for fear it might come true.
Sanchez rose from her seat and moved behind him, leaning down to give him a hug. “It’s what we do,” she said kissing him on top of the head. “You cover my ass, I cover yours. Like riding a bike—you never forget. We’ll be fine.”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood to face her, taking her into his arms. Without kissing, without speaking, they stood holding each other tightly. When his mobile started to make its irksome chime, Carr reached around her to pick it up.
“Don’t answer that,” Sanchez purred. “You take your shower yet?”
“I have, but a fellow can never be too clean.” Carr grabbed his mobile despite her appeal and pointed it at one of the suite’s image p
anels, casting a saved message in that direction. A videopane activated with the large image of a woman’s face on the wall. It was Yunru Lin.
“Good morning. First, I want to apologize for the deception the other day. I hope you were not offended, but a friend of mine wanted me to check you out.” She hesitated as a shy smile flicked across her face. “Now my friend would like to meet you. Please join us for lunch today at the Happenstance Room on Level One Twenty-Two. Until then…”
“What do you think?” asked Sanchez as the image faded.
“I think I still need that second shower,” he replied, placing his fingers under her chin and tilting it upward as he pressed his lips against hers.
* * * *
Moving through one of the Pontian arcologies was an adventure. The average level was over two kilometers wide and the broad corridors seemed to be packed with people day and night. There was lots of bumping and jostling, and on occasion, some people even said ‘excuse me.’
Moving vertically was even more problematic. Huge turbolifts carried hundreds at a time and just waiting for people to move on or off one of the giant lift cars seemed to take forever. Luckily for Carr and Sanchez, as VIP hotel guests they were provided with access keys to the smaller express turbos, dozens of which dotted the complex for use by the wealthier residents.
Level 122 was more raggedy than the lower levels—not a slum by any means, but certainly headed in that direction. Litter was strewn along the corridors, and there were broken light fixtures, peeling paint, and a general ambiance of decline.
“Beckman warned us that the farther up you go, the nastier it gets,” remarked Carr as they walked toward the address Lin attached to her morning message.
“And speaking of Beckman,” Sanchez growled. “He’s doing it again.” Their clumsy colleague had been tailing them for three days now.
Carr shot her an uneven smile. “I know—and he’s so bad at it, too. He might as well come up and walk right beside us.”
“Let me at him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t walk anywhere for a week,” she joked, but only partly.
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