Faring Soul - Science Fiction Romance

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “So we appear in the Drusiss system, the signal is tripped and they send their local team to keep us busy while the fastest and closest Federation ship hurries to intercept,” Bedivere concluded.

  “Lilly must have put it together,” Catherine murmured. “I had almost figured it out for myself, except I’ve been a bit busy the last little while. But Lilly figured it out and decided to test her theory by scanning herself. Then, when she found it, she cut it out and destroyed it.” She rested her head back against the chair. Her neck was aching. “I don’t think anyone could point a finger at her now and say she’s a spy, but this is a horrible way to confirm it.”

  “It just leaves one lingering question,” Bedivere said.

  “If Lilly is Aneesh, why is the Federation tracking her?”

  “Exactly.”

  Catherine closed her eyes with a sigh.

  “You should sleep,” Bedivere said quietly.

  “If you were here in person, I’d get you to carry me to bed. I don’t think I can get out of this chair by myself.”

  “Soon,” he promised warmly.

  * * * * *

  Lilly woke twenty hours after they finished seaming her wound, which had taken Catherine far longer than usual because of the jagged and irregular edges. She had stayed bent over like an old woman, her face close to her fingers as she had worked. Brant wasn’t sure Catherine had been aware of how physically tired she had become. She had persevered long after exhaustion had begun to show in her face and her body posture.

  Not long after that, Brant had begun to feel the after-effects of the no-tox dose and had to confine himself to his room while the nausea and trembling and the overwhelming headache had passed. By the time he was completely sober and recovered, Catherine was in her stateroom. Asleep, he presumed.

  So he had come here to the sickbay, to sit beside Lilly’s still, white form and think.

  When Lilly stirred a few hours later, he stood and moved to the side of the bed and waited for her to focus on him.

  Alarm touched her small face. “Did I kill it?” she asked. “Is it dead?”

  He touched her shoulder. “The tracker is completely dead. You destroyed it.”

  Her face crumpled and her eyes filled with tears. “They put it inside me. They didn’t even tell me!”

  Brant picked up her hand. “I know.”

  “I trusted them!” She wept in soft sobs that shook her.

  “That’s why they could do it,” he told her. “If you had been less loyal, you would have suspected something and it wouldn’t have worked.”

  “But why didn’t they just ask me?” Her tone was bewildered and her voice shook.

  “They needed you ignorant.” Brant could feel his chest tightening with indignation on her behalf. Her belief in the basic good of her chosen colleagues was in tatters and that was a hard lesson to learn. He had found it to be a painful one that had changed his whole life and left him adrift in a friendless world.

  So he held her hand and waited out her tears. Lilly, at least, had one friend she could count on.

  * * * * *

  Catherine waited until the second week in the hole before transferring Bedivere to the mule and installing the mesh tether. The mesh tether was the more complicated of the two procedures, but she had already done it once and Bedivere could talk her through it this time.

  She implanted the tether first, then thankfully moved on to the far more simple procedure of hooking the mule up to the computer outputs.

  “It will go a lot faster than last time,” Bedivere told her. “I don’t have to pick and choose what to download as I have kept all those memories and functions together and discrete from the ship’s processes. It’s a simple download process, much like the human transfer procedure.”

  “I’m glad you’re confident, but there’s always a margin of error.”

  “Human error,” he said and chuckled. The sound distorted through the wall speaker. “I’m not likely to make mistakes when it’s me I’m transferring.”

  Once the download was in process it was simply a matter of waiting for it to finish. Bio-downloads couldn’t be hurried and Bedivere was double-checking everything as it was stored in the tissues, too.

  Once the download was complete, Bedivere had her detach all the externals. “This is the last time I will talk to you with this limited ship’s output,” he said. “I’m going to withdraw and move myself into the body. When I wake up, I hope you’ll be there for me to look at. I haven’t seen you in days. Not the way I see you with human eyes. Scans and monitors will never adequately portray the color of your hair or your eyes to me.”

  “You’ll be fine,” she assured him, for she could hear the fear in his voice. “I’ll be right here until you wake.”

  Then it was simply a matter of waiting for him to wake up, which could take anywhere from hours to days.

  Brant found her there. “I got a message from the computer telling me you needed coffee,” he said softly, holding out the mug. “The voice was strange.”

  She took the mug. “It’s Bedivere watching out for me.”

  “It didn’t sound like him.”

  “That’s because he’s in there, now.” She nodded toward his sleeping form. He had rolled over onto his side and was breathing softly and evenly.

  “All of him? Then who is running the ship?”

  “That’s Bedivere, too. But the self-aware part is in his body. He has to stay connected to the ship because that’s a part of him, too. The size and complicated circuitry and systems that allow an AI to become sentient are too large to be held in a single human mind. So the ship systems are back to being AI circuits that he monitors and controls, while he is Bedivere, the navigator and pilot.” She sipped the coffee gratefully.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Brant said slowly.

  “I don’t think anyone understands. Bedivere is one of a kind.”

  Brant cleared his throat.

  “How is Lilly doing?”

  “She got out of bed today for a while.” Brant grimaced. “Said she’d tear the tubes out if I didn’t help her take them out.”

  “Definitely recovering,” Catherine said with a smile.

  Brant hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to head back. Make sure she hasn’t knifed any new holes in herself.”

  * * * * *

  It only took eight hours for Bedivere to wake, this time, unlike the first time when Catherine had stalked circles around the ship for three days waiting to see if the transfer had worked.

  He stirred, breathed in, then turned his head to find her.

  “I’m here,” she assured him.

  Bedivere smiled. His eyes grew warmer. “You are. And you’re beautiful.” He sat up and stretched and the movement, which seemed so simple and natural, made Catherine blink rapidly, to combat her stinging eyes.

  “I’m so hungry I could eat bulkheads,” he declared. He looked around. “I guess my clothes got left behind on Drusiss, didn’t they?”

  Catherine picked up the pile of newly printed clothes and accessories and put them on the bed beside him. “I’ll get a meal going for you. Waffles and bully bacon?”

  “You read my mind.”

  “You left it queued on the kitchen menu.”

  He drew in another breath, looking down at his hands. “It’s so good to be back.”

  She patted his shoulder. “Shave and trim before you come to eat. You look like a Neanderthal.”

  He rubbed his chin and it rasped under his fingers. “I thought I’d keep it,” he said. “It would offset the twenty years I just lost.”

  “You like looking old?”

  “I like looking like me. I’m going to have to get used to looking like this.”

  “There’s compensations,” she assured him.

  “Like what?”

  She shook her head. “You’ll find out.”

  As she headed for the common room, Catherine realized that she was smiling. Happiness was bub
bling up inside like a perpetual fountain. It felt so good, she was annoyed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Brant presented himself at the captain’s quarters at the beginning of the hour, wondering what Catherine wanted that required a formal appointment. He’d never been inside her quarters before, but if they were like other captain’s quarters then the front room would be a formal receiving room, complete with desk and chairs and a full communications array for staying on top of flight deck activities.

  The door acknowledged him and slid aside.

  Bedivere was standing in front of the expected desk.

  Brant flexed his jaw. “Where’s Catherine?”

  “Down in the gym.” He reached behind him and picked up a bottle sitting on the desk.

  Brant recognized the color. Brandy. “I’ll come back later.” He turned to go.

  “The captain gave you an order to report to her quarters,” Bedivere said. “You don’t get to leave until a senior officer dismisses you.”

  True. Brant stepped into the room and let the door shut behind him. “Don’t pour one of those for me,” he said. “I won’t drink it.”

  “You won’t drink with me. You won’t speak to me. You’ve been at the farthest point away from me that one can reach on this ship all week, no matter where I’ve been. It’s time to talk.” Bedivere pushed the brandy glass toward Brant.

  It was an actual balloon like they used to use in days gone by. Brant had always wondered what they would be like to drink from. But he gritted his jaw once more, steeling himself. “That’s why I’m here? Your feelings are hurt?”

  “You don’t believe I have feelings that can be hurt, so what do you care?”

  “I don’t care.”

  Bedivere smiled. “You’re a lousy liar, Fareed.”

  “Don’t call me that. You don’t have a right to call me that.”

  “If you honestly didn’t care, you wouldn’t have been avoiding me.” Bedivere sipped from the other balloon. “I thought you liked having someone to drink with.”

  “You listened.”

  Bedivere shook his head. “The ships systems monitored. I very carefully didn’t listen. I’ve learned that you can hear far more than you want to if you eavesdrop. But Cat told me why she thought you were avoiding me, so I pulled up the audio and replayed it. Just the part she mentioned. I didn’t want to make any assumptions, you see. I didn’t want to get it wrong.”

  “Get what wrong?” Brant asked curiously, then mentally cursed himself. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t get involved. He would see out this contract, then get the hell off the ship as a good Ammonite would.

  “I have a problem, Brant.”

  Brant laughed. “Just one?”

  “I’m in love with Catherine.”

  Brant stared at him. Then he remembered to breathe. Silently, he crossed to the desk, picked up the brandy glass and drank deeply.

  “You’re not laughing,” Bedivere said.

  “I should be?”

  “At the idea that a sentient computer who can’t feel anything could possibly be in love with a human woman. I thought the idea would spin you into hysterics.”

  Brant sat heavily against the desk. “I knew you loved her before I even knew what you are. I just…didn’t think you were aware enough to know it yourself.” He looked down into the glass. “Damn,” he muttered.

  “Sorry to shatter your delusions,” Bedivere said dryly.

  “Shut up and pour me another one,” Brant growled. “And explain to me why this is a problem.”

  “You don’t think it is?”

  Brant snuffled laughter into the glass. “You’re both well beyond the age of consent.”

  Bedivere was frowning.

  “What am I missing?” Brant asked. “Beyond the obvious that you’re a proscribed machine and she’s the oldest human in the galaxy?”

  “Exactly,” Bedivere said. He hesitated. “She and Arthur were lovers. For a very long time.”

  Brant put the glass down. “That’s what’s worrying you? That she might be still in love with the flesh you’re moving around in?”

  “Something like that. I don’t want to confuse her.”

  “You won’t,” Brant said firmly, remembering the way she had looked up at him the day Bedivere had moved out of the docking bay. “I saw her reaction when you died. Besides, you’ve had that body a lot longer than Arthur did. She’s known you for much longer, too.”

  Bedivere nodded, a frown marring the flesh between his brows.

  “There’s something else that’s eating you, isn’t there?”

  He nodded. “If I were…if we were together…I could ruin her life. I’m proscribed, as you just reminded me. The Federation wants her enough to chase her all over the galaxy and if they were to find out…” He drew in a breath. “I don’t want her hurt. Especially not because of me.”

  Brant stood up, drained the brandy glass and put it back on the desk. “I was wrong,” he said flatly. “You’re not a machine. No machine would be able to tie itself into such knots over a moral dilemma the way you are.”

  “That doesn’t help resolve it.”

  “You can’t resolve it,” Brant told him. “All you can do is make the best choice you can and live with the consequences. And you asked for my help, so here it is. If you really do love her, then you have to risk everything to share that with her. Because love is worth it. If she really loves you, then she’ll accept the risk. She’ll accept you. But you can’t make that choice for her. She must.”

  Bedivere remained silent, his gaze steady.

  “Now, tell me I’m dismissed, so I can get out of here,” Brant growled.

  “Go.”

  Brant hurried through the corridors, down into the dim bowls where the engines thrummed and no one ever came. Except for one.

  He found Lilly sitting on the floor cross-legged, some anonymous piece of steel and circuits in her hands. There was a dark streak across one cheek. She looked up at him, startled.

  Brant pulled her to her feet.

  “You look stressed,” she said.

  “I just reminded myself of something I had forgotten,” he told her. “About trust and risk…and other things.”

  Lilly frowned. “You’re not making a lot of sense.”

  “Maybe this will,” he said and kissed her.

  Coming home had never tasted so sweet.

  * * * * *

  Hunger and the faint noises from Brant’s room, next to hers, finally drove Catherine to the common room, in search of food.

  Bedivere looked up from the bowl he was eating from, almost like he was startled.

  “Have you stopped eating since you woke up?” she asked him, heading for the dispenser. “If you’re not careful, you’ll get fat and have to live with high blood pressure for the rest of this body’s useful life.”

  “I’ve been in the gym as much as I’ve been in here,” he said quietly. “I had absolutely no muscle tone. I could barely lift anything.” He leaned down and picked up the heavy steel chair next to him by the bottom of one leg and lifted it without effort. “I’m working on changing that.” He put the chair back down and patted it—an invitation. “You’ve been sleeping?”

  “Trying.” She hit the lucky button and waited for the meal to produce. “But Lilly and Brant are in his room and we’re going to have to do something about soundproofing the interior walls a bit better.”

  Bedivere smiled. “Lilly and Brant. That…has symmetry.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Catherine thought it was an oddly poetic way of describing the pair. Her meal dinged, so she lifted it out and dumped the bowl on the table and sat down.

  Bedivere reached behind her and snagged a fork and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.”

  He nodded and returned to his own bowl.

  Catherine ate, barely noticing the food. It was just calories. She was more aware of Bedivere sitting to her right. She still couldn’t quite take it for gran
ted yet.

  Bedivere put his bowl aside and sat back. “If Lilly and Brant are together, that just leaves you and me.”

  Catherine jumped. She lowered her fork. “What are you saying?”

  Bedivere threaded his fingers together and rested his knitted hands on the table in front of him. It looked casual and disarming. “You’ve thought about it. Don’t tell me you haven’t.”

  Her heart thudded. “You mean sex?”

  His smile was small, but his eyes were alive with…something. “You have very few hang-ups about sex left. But you won’t let yourself think too hard or far about having sex with me because you lived through the era where computers were almost wiped out by the Sinnikka as mechanical evil personified. That bias has stayed with you ever since.”

  Was that true? Catherine stared at him. “Are you calling me a bigot?” she asked.

  “I’m calling you human. I kissed you once, Cat. Did you like it?”

  The quick replies, the changes of direction, were confusing her and giving her no time to think. That only ever happened when she talked to Bedivere. She was always left stumbling along in his wake, trying to keep up.

  “You didn’t hate it, did you? You didn’t find it repulsive like you thought it would be.” His voice was lower and it seemed like he was leaning closer.

  “No, I didn’t hate it,” she said truthfully. Truth was the only defense with him. He always saw through any dissembling she tried.

  “And you’ve thought about maybe another kiss. Just to see if it was as good as the first, or if you just imagined it all.” He really was closer now. He’d turned on the chair so he was facing her and he was leaning in, his breath warm against her neck.

  Her heart zoomed. But she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t possibly answer.

  “Every time I took someone into my room and shut the door, your imagination started to work, didn’t it?” He was so close now, he was whispering. Catherine stayed absolutely still. She was afraid to move. Afraid to break the moment. She was frozen, but her heart was racing.