The Forever Life (The Forever Series Book 1)

by Craig Robertson

  I filled her in on all the details, from my being an android to why I'd come to Kaljax. She listened attentively, never interrupting once. “So,” I concluded, “that's my story. I didn't mention any of it before because I never know whom I can trust. Experience has shown, I can't trust anyone, really.”

  “Yet you share your tale with me?”

  “You're kind of a captive audience.” She squinted an eye. “When I put you back down, I'll be leaving for good. Any information you pass along can't be used against me at that point.”

  “I don't want to be difficult, but I can't really believe you're a machine. I bit your hand. I've seen you eat. Our surveillance cameras showed you to eliminate waste.”

  “I'm a very well-constructed illusion. But, you don't have to believe me. I'll show you.”

  I raised my left hand. What are you, Sapale?

  The probe shot across the short space, surrounding her with filaments. She stiffened, but didn't otherwise react.

  “You are six years old. Your chromosomes contain fifty-four gene pairs. Your life expectancy is a robust thirty years. You burn, on average nine-hundred calories a day. Your distant ancestors were—wow—herbivores. Currently, your diet is half vegetable, the rest equal percents meat, fat, and carbohydrate. You personally have not given birth, though you are sexually active. Your left thigh bone was broken as a child and your hearing is slightly damaged, most likely from an infection. Otherwise you've very healthy. So, the vitamin supplements you take on an irregular basis are unnecessary.” I smiled. “You're a hothead and have trouble making friends.”

  “These strings tell you I have a foul disposition?”

  “More or less.” I started to giggle. “Well, no. The other stuff's true though.”

  “That's very nice. Now, could you remove your appendages from me?”

  “Certainly.” The probe snapped back into my fingers.

  She pointed to my hand. “Those are most impressive, but they don't prove you're a machine.”

  “Then you'll just have to trust me.” She sneered back at me. “So, what are we going to do with you? I can drop you anywhere you'd like.” I waited a second to add, “Is there anywhere it'll be safe for you?”

  She rubbed roughly at her neck. “No, probably not. My operative cell has been uncovered and I have been identified. No other nation would accept me and I couldn't survive very long in hiding. Security is extremely tight on Kaljax. Nowhere is hidden any longer.” Her eyes brightened. “Take me with you!”

  Flatly I batted that notion down. “Not an option.”

  She growled quietly, deep in her throat. It was sort of like a lion, but higher pitched. “Just like that. I'm expendable. No good to you now, you'll return me to certain death. You don't even pretend to consider bringing me to safety. Yours is a very cold, soulless species. I don't think I like your kind.”

  “No, it's not like that. I have to return you to Kaljax.”

  “Will that be from up here, or would you enjoy knowing my enemies will capture me in one piece?”

  “Sapale, easy. You misunderstand. I would love to take you with me. I can't. The flight is going to last almost two Kaljax years. I can't possibly carry enough supplies to keep you alive. If you come with me, you'll starve.”

  She was unconvinced. “What about that carpet-thing I hear eating in the other room? You have enough for it. Is it more worthy of saving than me?”

  “No. I warned her of the same thing I am warning you. Lucky for her, it turns out she can nearly stop her metabolism for years at a time. Unless you can ball up in the refrigeration unit and sleep for that long, your voyage won't be as pleasant.”

  She was either starting to believe me or decided she'd rather die than remain in my presence. “And your hands are clean, whatever way I choose to die. Can't protect me on Kaljax and can't feed me in space. How very lucky your conscience is, to be so insulated from guilt.”

  “I can't take you. But, I definitely want to make it as safe as possible for you down there. Can you think of some deal I could make with a vying government which might then give you sanctuary?”

  She turned away. “It's not like that on my world. An enemy is forever. I'm now officially everyone's enemy. Therefore, I'll be granted no quarter and mercy.”

  In my head, I heard Al clear his throat. I mean, he made the sound. Of course he doesn't have a throat.

  “What now?” I snapped out loud.

  Sapale picked up the nearest object, which happened to be her half-full coffee mug. With remarkable force and accuracy, she hurled it at my head. “I die, you heartless son of a falzorn.”

  I batted the mug away. “I was speaking to my ship's AI.”

  “No you weren't! I didn't hear a thing.”

  “He spoke directly in my head. He usually does. Easier that way. Remember, there's a computer up here.” I pointed to the side of my head.

  “Perhaps that explains your lack of empathy?”

  Across the speakers, Al spoke up. “If you two love birds are done pecking at each other, may I ask a question?”

  “Yes, please,” I shouted. “I can use a break in the action here.”

  “Sapale, what is the minimal caloric requirement of a female of your age and size?”

  I responded first. “What on earth does that have to do with our present predicament?”

  “Yes. What's your point, computer?”

  There was a brief silence, then Al began to hum, as in producing musical tones with a closed mouth. Sapale pointed up. “What's the significance of that annoying sound?”

  “He's waiting for us to answer his question. The humming is meant to show he's entertaining himself while he waits.”

  She covered her face with her hands. “You're about to march me off to my death and your computer wants us to know he's biding time for us to answer a stupid question?”

  I had a sad look on my face. “Yeah, that about sums it up.” He doubled the volume of his humming. “What's the objective of your query, ship's AI?” He doubled the volume again.

  Sapale yelled above the din. “Around four hundred calories. There, are you happy, computer?”

  “That,” he remarked, “is unlikely while serving under Colonel Ryan. It is, however, a separate issue. I have an idea which might save your live, female of Kaljax.”

  “My name is Sapale, computer.”

  “And,” he replied, “I'll start calling you that when you stop calling me a computer.”

  “But you are a computer, computer. What else would you possibly be called?”

  “My name is Al. I am the ship's AI. My level of functioning is as far above that of a simple computer as a rational mind is to Colonel Ryan's.”

  That got a snicker out of her. “Al,” I begged, “could you get to your obtuse point sometime this week?”

  “You people of Earth are completely silly. You know that, don't you?”

  “Given the female of Kaljax's minimal caloric requirements and the surface area available on board Ark 1, it might be possible to grow enough food to sustain the female alien creature.”

  “If I wanted to strike the computer,” she asked, “where would I aim my fist?”

  “I don't know,” I said. “And trust me, I've looked pretty hard.”

  “A follow-up question, if you will, lady of Kaljax.” Al sure could get under one's skin when he wanted to. “Is there a species of plant which grows quickly and provides all the nutrients required to sustain you?”

  “I get it!” I said. “Yes, we could set up banks of lights and trays with seedlings.” I rubbed my chin. “It might just work.” To Sapale, I repeated Al's question. “So, is there such a plant?”

  She thought a few seconds. “Faw, possibly. Celty for sure, but it's slower growing. Why is this important?”

  “Because,” I responded, “we might be able to grow just enough food to keep you alive.” I paced back and forth. “You'd have to remain inactive, but it might just work.”

  Al calculated that
, if every spare centimeter was converted to plant production, we could produce sufficient amounts to make taking Sapale along feasible. Of course, we didn't have the necessary equipment. Perhaps I could barter some technology or materials to get it? Al drew up a detailed plan while Sapale made a list of needed items. Within a few hours, we had what seemed to be a realistic scheme. I showed Sapale all of the ship's stores to see if she thought anything would make a good trade commodity. She made a list of those items too. I also needed to secure enough food to get Ffffuttoe's weight back up before we left Kaljax.

  Over a few days, Sapale made inquiries with various parties to see who was interested in what. She made excellent progress. By week's end, I was shuttling up dirt, lights, and plants. After a couple weeks, the ship was so crowded with planters it became hard to move. Coffee turned out to be the hottest item for trade. By the time she had acquired all the necessary materials, it was all gone. It was going to be an even longer flight home. That was okay. The sooner we were set, the sooner I could complete my mission and return home. By the time we were squared away, Ffffuttoe was back to an acceptable weight.

  I told Sapale our last stop would be the lone planet orbiting Proxima Centauri. She got a very worried look on her face. It wasn't until I pulled up a star chart and showed her our exact itinerary that she relaxed. She was worried I meant we were going to Bultarral. That's the Kaljax name for AC-B 5, the place with all the terrible snakes. Interplanetary expeditions had been there for Kaljax. No one from the first three missions returned. The fourth, and final trip, was much more successful. Three of the eighty crew members returned. Two were rendered permanently insane, but they at least survived. No further interest in Bultarral remained. It became only the place parents threaten to send misbehaving children to. And the bogeyman on Kaljax was the falzorn Sapale had accused me of being the son of. It was a mortal insult. Falzorn was their name for the snakes. They hated them as much as I did.

  Proxima Centauri 1, the only unobtrusive planet orbiting that dull star, was three months away. Sapale said her people had sent a few unmanned missions there not too long ago. There were no signs of life and she recalled it was perpetually inhospitable. She thought it was a waste of time to go there. I was able to half convince her it was necessary. I needed to explore any possible colonization site. Too much was at stake. She said it was my time to waste if I so desired. She had nowhere else to go, so didn't mind a pointless detour.

  TWENTY-ONE

  For two strangers to spend three months in tight quarters can be a serious challenge. Nerves can be frayed, then fried, then shredded to pieces. Half of the crew might throw the other half out an airlock. The problem was much more acute when the people in question are of the opposite sex. It's a recipe for faux pas, wackiness, and, ultimately, disaster-soup. I'd never spent time closely cohabitating with a sentient female. I lived with my evil ex-wife for three years, but she never counted as sentient.

  Initially, we were both busy, so the chance of boredom leading to stress was minimal. I was preoccupied collecting data on PC 1 and she was busy setting up the garden that would keep her alive. She set up a combination of a few different plants, some aquacultured and some grown in soil. High-intensity lights dangled from every conceivable angle and surface. I put Ffffuttoe in the fridge before we left, so she wasn't tempered to devour the meager supplies we carried to bridge the time between departure and full production.

  Inevitably, as we had less to do, we spent more time together. Sometimes we'd watch a holo from Earth or a video from Kaljax. We learned early on not to try to get each other to even tolerate our respective musics. They were fundamentally different. Her's sounded like a bag of cats in a dryer. Actually, that was the more placid end of her spectrum. She said human music was the punishment souls in Brathos, the Kaljax's version of hell, were forced to endure for all eternity. Occasionally we could be together and be silent, but mostly we tended to talk.

  We learned a lot about each other's world. We also grew to know each other much better. Sapale was tough and spiny on the outside, but inside, she was a deeply passionate and caring person. Those traits explained why she joined the resistance in a repressive society that didn't tolerate dissent. To her, if one faced a wrong, one had to right it. It was that simple. She was a good person.

  Eventually our discussions had to come around to the big topic: sex. For two bored people of remarkably different backgrounds living without privacy it was inevitable. She was the first to broach the subject. “So, you evaluated me,” she pointed to my left hand, “with those strings of yours. Remember?”

  “Like it was a month ago.”

  “And after we shot our way out of Tourine Ser's house, you saw me naked for quite some time.”

  I squinted at the ceiling. “That part I don't seem to recall.” I tapped my chest. “I am, you know, a very unobservant individual.”

  “You're a pig is what you are, but that's beside my present point.”

  “What point is that?”

  “Among my people, I am considered quite attractive. I believe I'm what you call 'hot' by our standards.”

  “Because I don't like to voluntarily get my ass in trouble, I'll just say I will pass on any comment until your 'point' is more clear to me.”

  She shook her head. “Such a pig.” Then she smiled. “So, you tell me you're a man, a male of your species. Do you find me physically attractive?”

  Did I? Like all Kaljaxians, she was a bit shorter and stockier than a human. The female's heads were rounder than the male's, but there was still an elliptical quality to them. What passed for hair atop their heads was long, coarse, and sparse by human standards. The females lacked any breast development, but their hips did curve out ever so nicely. Sapale definitely had a cute little butt. Using t the time-honored male yardmark of how drunk one would have to be to jump a girl's bones, I'd have to say, in her case, not too very. Sober wouldn't actually be such a stretch. Of course, I was nearly forty years into celibacy, so I was less than an impartial judge.

  I decided on the answer which would get me the least killed. “Al, is that the fusion core alarm I heard? I think we're about to blow up in a fireball.”

  He replied with stunning clarity and diction. “Negative. All systems are optimal. Answer her question. I have a hundred credits bet with the navigation computer you don't live to see another day, by the way.”

  “Did you,” she taunted, “need me to strip naked to help jar your memory? We're not as modest as I've come to learn humans are. Here,” she stood from where she sat on the floor, “let me…”

  Before she could get her jumper's zipper a quarter way down, she forced my hand. “No. That won't be necessary. I find you quite attractive, physically. I think most human males would too. There, are you satisfied?”

  “No. I need to know if I find you attractive. Remove your clothes and turn around a few times.”

  “I'll do nothing of the kind.” I pointed to the control screen. “You can pull up endless images of nude males if you want to learn about that.”

  There was oodles of mock sympathy in her tone. “Oh, I'm sorry. You're a machine. I forgot. No reason to over-design you, was there. I'm sure you were sent packing with only the minimal assets necessary. How insensitive of me. Please forgive me.”

  “No, Ms. Sapale. He's fully functional and anatomically identical to how he appeared before his transfer. After more years than I'd care to say alone with him, I can testify to that fact. Why, just before we departed Earth, he even had himself a sexual plaything.”

  “By Davdiad's holy veil, you're not serious, are you, Al?”

  He was way too eager in his reply. “I am. Would you like to view the holo? I can upload it from his memory banks directly to the main screen.”

  “Yes,” she began with schoolgirl excitement.

  I held up both arms. “No you will not, you backstabbing blender!”

  “Wow,” she teased, “I think we've struck a nerve, Al.”

  “It's
not such a hard thing to do with him, I regret to inform.”

  “If you're both satisfied, I'll go check the environmental servos.” I stood. “I don't need this kind of abuse.”

  Seductively, she questioned me. “What type of abuse would you like, shipmate?” She sucked on a digit.

  “And you called me a pig. By the way, do you even know what a pig is?”

  “According to the ship's AI, it's a food creature with coarse manners that is unclean by nature.” She looked suddenly quite serious. “My request is a fair one. I simply wish a…cultural exchange. Yes, that's it. One between the people of Earth and Kaljax, to further our bonds of friendship.”

  “And your altruistic diplomacy requires me to get naked?”

  She shrugged. “If it's best for interstellar peace, then yes, I'm willing to make the sacrifice.”

  “Oh, so it's a sacrifice to gaze upon my naturally given gifts?”

  “Given your level of protestation, I'm thinking that's a given.”

  “Okay, sister.” I unzipped my jumpsuit and stepped out of it. That left me in my skivvies. Al started booming stripper music throughout the ship. What the hell, I bobbed my hips and rotated in place a couple times before pulling them off and throwing them in the direction of Sapale's head.

  She clapped energetically. “Where've you been hiding this music? This I like.” She began to mimic my hip gyrations and, in short order, had her clothes off too.” Al interspersed catcalls and applause, where appropriate.

  I placed a hand in the air. “Alright, people. This has officially gone far enough. In the interest of harmony and decorum, all bipeds put their clothes back on and let's get back to work.”

  She pointed, while continuing to dance with abandon, at my crotch. “Is that thing always in the 'raised and ready' position, or am I just dancing well?” Abruptly, she stopped dancing and strode confidently to as close as she could get without actually being me. “In fact, let me have a look at that mechanism.” She bent at the waist and took temporary possession of what was not hers.

  From that day on, the voyage of Ark 1, in service to humanity and determined to save my species, became a lot less tedious. The second best part was that it drove Al crazy not being part of the diversions, which turned out to be manifold. The first best part was…well, as I said before, I'm a consummate gentleman.