Orphans In the Black: A Space Opera Anthology
Page 56
“One. They only needed one.”
It did not understand.
“I can’t feel my arms. My legs. I can’t feel anything. I can’t move my head.”
It did not understand. It did not move.
“How are you here?”
The flesh over the eyes lowered. The face moved.
It understood. The shape was in pain.
“You can’t speak, can you? You can’t communicate. You’re just a machine.”
A new sound came from the lips on the face. The sound was soft and choppy.
It understood. The shape was amused, despite its damage.
“You’re as broken as I am, aren’t you?”
The eyes on the face closed.
“Can you turn that light off, at least? I don’t need it shining in my eyes.”
It understood the words. It turned the green light off.
The eyes on the face opened. The face moved.
“You understood me?”
It had no face. It had no lips. It had no words.
It had an idea.
It bounced, rising and falling in the air in front of the face.
“I’m injured. I think I’m dying. I need to send a message to the Republic. We were attacked.”
The eyes moved again. It rotated. It observed. The larger shape. It was the enemy.
“Do you understand?”
It bounced. It had no words, but it could communicate. It was happy.
The face moved. The lips moved. It observed teeth. The face was smiling.
“I don’t know how this is possible. I must be hallucinating. Maybe I’m already dead.”
It did not understand. It did not bounce.
“I know the new print spec included an enhanced neural processing grid, but they never said anything about out of scope intelligence.”
It did not understand.
The face moved again. Amusement.
“I’m talking to you like you care. Do you see that terminal over there? The one closest to us?”
The eyes on the face stopped when they observed the shape on the floor in front of the terminal.
“Ensign Dawes.”
Water appeared above the eye, pooling into a droplet which ran down the face.
It understood. Sadness.
It rotated. It observed.
“There’s a switch. An emergency distress beacon. It’s self-contained. It should have survived the crash. Can you turn it on?”
It traveled to the terminal. It observed the switch.
“That’s right. What a smart thing you are.”
It did not understand. It landed on the terminal. It reached out for the switch.
“Just pull it until it clicks.”
A whir.
A hum.
A click.
A snap.
It held the switch. Its wings buzzed.
It tried.
It failed.
It was not big enough. It was not strong enough.
The lips on the face made a sound. A low sound.
It understood. Despair.
“It isn’t your fault. You did your best.”
It did not want to fail. It tried again.
A whir.
A hum.
A snap.
The appendage separated.
It was broken. It was damaged.
It failed again.
It rotated. It traveled back to the face.
The eyes on the face were open. The eyes did not move. The eyes did not observe it.
It sank to the surface. It felt. Sadness.
It understood. The shape was not alive.
It remained. It processed the words.
Machine. Neural processing. Attacked. Intelligence. Out of scope. Crashed. Emergency.
It thought. It considered. What did the words mean?
It understood. It did not accept.
A whir.
A hum.
A click.
It rose into the air. It traveled.
Deck A.
Deck B.
Deck C.
Deck D.
Deck E.
Deck F.
Deck G.
Deck H.
Deck I.
Deck J.
Deck K.
Deck L.
It observed many shapes of cloth and flesh.
The shapes did not move.
The shapes were not alive.
It understood. It did not accept.
It returned to the place where it had entered. It returned to the outside.
It observed. The purple and blue were gone. Now the above was orange. The brown remained below.
It descended the cliff. The hull.
Searching.
It found more shapes of cloth and flesh at the bottom of the cliff.
It circled. It observed. The shapes were not alive.
It understood. It did not want to accept.
It had no choice.
It ascended along the side of the hull. It returned to the place where it was born. It rotated inside the box, looking out at the expanse of the world beyond.
The world was not alive.
But it was alive.
It was also alone.
It sat.
It did not know what else to do.
~FIN~
M.R. Forbes is the author of the bestselling space opera series War Eternal, Rebellion, and Chaos of the Covenant.
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COMBAT SUPPORT
A SKY FULL OF STARS SHORT STORY
By Lindsay Buroker
ABOUT COMBAT SUPPORT
After escaping from the medical research facility where she was isolated and experimented on for years, Masika has found a place among the crew of the Snapper. She likes the people, and she’s finally doing something useful with her genetically engineered muscles. But her past hasn’t forgotten about her, and when bounty hunters show up, she must worry not only about her own fate, but about that of her new friends as well.
COMBAT SUPPORT
“One ninety-seven… one ninety-eight… one ninety-nine…”
Masika lifted her chin to the pull-up bar mounted to the bulkhead in the cargo hold for two hundred, then dropped to the deck and shook out her genetically enhanced muscles. She wasn’t tired after the five-minute exercise break, but at least she had blown off some of the pent-up energy that always simmered below the surface. She headed for the open paint can, spread canvas, and brushes she’d left by the bulkhead where her blazer rifle leaned.
Before she reached them, the Snapper’s wide cargo hatch opened. Since her job as security officer had priority over her self-appointed job as interior designer, she sprang for the rifle, swinging it into her hands before the hatch fully opened.
Artificial lights from the docks outside streamed in, framing the figures of young Captain Marchenko and almost-as-young Prince Thorian. They strode up the ramp, Thorian wrapped in black and wearing a blazer pistol on one hip and his fancy retractable Starseer sword on the other. His face was as stony and brooding as usual. Apparently, it was important for princes of fallen empires to brood. Stonily.
Jelena, his opposite in many ways, wore a garish aquamarine shirt with a shiny silver turtle on the front. Fringes dangled from the sleeves, and silver eyelets ran along the hem, having neither function nor appeal. Her only weapon was a black rune-covered Starseer staff, and she waved it cheerfully when she spotted Masika.
“Good morning, Masika,” Jelena called, striding toward her.
Morning? Was that the local time of day? Masika eyed the dark sky beyond those artificial lights outside, a few stars visible through the transparent dome that protected this section of Kalamarran Moon, holding in the artificial atmosphere for its twenty thousand inhabitants.
“You’re precisely the person I wanted to see,” Je
lena added.
“Am I?” Masika asked. “Because you brought me more paint?”
Jelena stopped to look at the jungle lake mural developing on the bulkhead. Thorian continued past after the briefest of nods.
“No, but you can look for a supply store when you go out. I’ve secured three cargos for us here.” Jelena bounced on her toes, shaking her fringes and making the eyelets rattle. “Thor and I are going to pick up one that will give us an opportunity to talk to certain industry leaders about his ambitions. I’m going to send Austin and Dr. Ogiwara to get the medical supplies—there was a question as to whether the drugs are legal to transport, so the doctor is going to inspect them before taking them on. I’d like you and Erick to pick up the last cargo.”
“Do we need to inspect anything?” Kalamarran Moon was far out among the border worlds, far out from Alliance control, so legality wasn’t generally a concern, but they might be taking the cargo into Alliance territory where it could be searched.
“Only if you want to have a good time. I’m sure Erick wouldn’t object.” Jelena wriggled her eyebrows.
“What?” The word came out colder and flatter than Masika intended, but with her past, one Jelena was familiar with, she didn’t appreciate sexual innuendoes. If that was what this was.
“The cargo is tequila,” Jelena explained. “Some of the enterprising farmers who terraformed the tunnels and adjusted crops to grow with geothermal heat were able to get the agave genetic material brought from Old Earth to thrive here. They’ve been distilling their special brand of Moon Rock Tequila for decades, and they need someone to take their new shipment to a warehouse on Indra. They said whoever comes to pick up the cargo can have some samples.”
“Oh.” Masika forced her knotted muscles to relax. “I don’t drink alcohol anymore. It does weird things to my new metabolism.”
She also didn’t like to have her senses impaired. Even though she hadn’t been drunk the night she’d been cornered and raped back at the university, the years hadn’t softened the memories, and she was careful not to put herself in compromising positions. Not that kind of compromising anyway. She couldn’t count the number of gunfights and fistfights she’d been in since joining the crew of the Snapper. Somehow, the battles never bothered her. It was as if her new body relished combat as another way to burn off steam. And if she could do something good, protect someone who needed it… all the better.
“No? Well, Erick can do the sampling, and you can carry him back.”
“Gee, that will be a good time.”
“Working for me is always exciting.”
Masika gazed at her without saying anything.
“You don’t agree?” Jelena asked.
“Oh, I do. That was the sound of my agreement.”
“Your agreement is soft.”
“There’s an Old Earth saying about the merits of speaking softly and carrying a big stick.”
Jelena lifted her six-foot-long Starseer staff. “Perfect.”
Masika was about to point out that Jelena rarely spoke softly, but Erick ambled out in gray trousers and a rumpled t-shirt that offered ten reasons to date an engineer.
“This is the most fashion-challenged crew I’ve ever seen,” Masika said.
“Just be glad he’s not wearing his Starseer robe,” Jelena said, not seeming to realize she’d been included in the comment. “It’s hard to carry someone when you’re tripping over the hem of something so long.”
“Masika is carrying me somewhere?” Erick asked, joining them and arching an eyebrow in her direction. He was tall, gangly, and blond with freckles, and if he hadn’t been carrying a Starseer staff and Masika hadn’t seen him use his mental powers before, she could have assumed he was the least threatening person in the galaxy. “Should I get excited now or wait until the event?” he added.
He grinned, and Masika knew it was a joke, but she’d also caught him gazing at her a number of times, ever since she mentioned she’d played computer games during her university days. That was apparently the way to his heart. She expected one day she would have to find a way to tell him she wasn’t interested in dating engineers or anyone else, but he’d not yet asked her on a date. He also seemed to sense when she wasn’t in the mood for jokes and always backed off.
“You’ll be passed out, so I doubt you’ll enjoy it,” Jelena said.
“Uh, what? Is this some new scheme that I didn’t get a memo about?”
“You’re picking up our tequila cargo.”
“Pick up? I’m your engineer. It’s my job to fix things, not lift things.”
“Take the thrust bikes and hand tractors. You won’t have to do anything but pull a trigger and press a button.”
“Sounds arduous.” Erick flexed his finger and eyed it skeptically.
“Just get going.” Jelena shoved him toward the hatch. “Moon Rock Tequila is expecting you within the hour. Oh, and Masika? Take your rifle along, please.”
Masika arched her eyebrows. “I always do, but why?”
“It’s a rough moon. We passed signs promising you could buy slaves here cheaply. We didn’t actually see any this early in the morning, or Thor and I might have felt compelled to liberate them.”
Masika snorted. She had originally crossed paths with this ship and crew when Jelena had been “liberating” lab animals from her old employer, Stellacor. Stellacor had been responsible for all the extremely experimental upgrades and modifications Masika had received, and hadn’t exactly been pleased when she broke her contractual obligations and left. Of course, when she’d signed those contracts, she hadn’t known how unsavory the corporation was. She just hoped they never caught up with her.
“Yes,” Erick said, “Thor’s so warm and noble that it’s a surprise he can walk through a city without liberating people left and right. Say, he didn’t assassinate anyone while he was out here, did he?”
“No.” Jelena’s cheer faded, and her voice chilled as she glared at Erick. “He only did that to vile people who betrayed his father. Now he has plans to make the system a better place. One without slavery, poverty, or inequality.”
“But assassinations will still be acceptable, right?”
Jelena scowled and stalked toward NavCom. She called back over her shoulder, “There’s a reason why you’re stuck wearing a shirt like that instead of actually having a girlfriend, you know.”
“Yes, it’s because I’m stuck in engineering on a freighter, flying between remote, disreputable ports instead of working on Arkadius or Demeter, where a civilized person plies his trade.”
Jelena disappeared without further comment.
Erick sighed and looked at Masika, as if she might want to weigh in on the argument, or perhaps point out that any girl would be lucky to have him.
“Are you sure Number Nine is correct?” She pointed at his shirt.
“Yes.” Erick looked down, probably having forgotten what Number Nine was. It promised that engineers knew how to handle stress and strain in a relationship. “But maybe there’s a reason why it’s toward the end of the list.”
“No doubt.” Masika slung her rifle over her shoulder on its strap. “Let’s get that cargo. And avoid being captured by slavers.”
Masika and Eric navigated their thrust bikes along sunken roads, many of which veered off into caves and tunnels. On Kalamarran Moon, three-quarters of the population lived and worked underground, so much of the city existed down there.
They zipped past a market full of tents with ripped and patched canvas walls. More permanent stalls were made from rusted, corrugated metal. Pedestrians, both human and robot, walked through the streets, the latter looking like they’d been scrounged from an imperial garbage pit a few centuries earlier. Some of the former had that look too. Here and there, men and women wore refined—and matching—clothing, but they were not the norm. Masika wondered if the locals who worked at the tequila factory could afford to buy what they produced.
She and Erick turned a corner, their bik
es skimming over potholes, and headed for the largest cave entrance Masika had ever seen. It rose six or seven stories and stretched even wider. Several roads and rail tracks led into it, and warehouses and factories had been built against the walls inside. Smog hazed the air.
A drunken couple staggered along a broken moving sidewalk, heading in the direction of the ship docks. Several sets of speculative eyes regarded them from doorways and alleys.
“Those two might not make it back to their ship,” Erick said over the rumble of their bike engines.
“If not, Thor and Alisa can liberate them.”
“Please, I’m the one Alisa always takes along on liberation missions. You have no idea how many times she dragged me into trouble when she was a kid.”
“You’re six years older, aren’t you?” Masika asked as they flew through the cave entrance. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
“I know we’ve been out of the ship for almost ten minutes, but I can’t believe you’ve forgotten what she’s like in that short time.”
Masika snorted and shook her head. She caught Erick grinning over at her, as if he hoped to get her to laugh. She had laughed more once, but she barely remembered those days now. Maybe when Stellacor had been tinkering with her metabolism and hormones, they’d tinkered with her brain chemistry too. More than once, she had regretted her decision to sign their paperwork, to agree to such tinkering. All she’d wanted was to make sure she was strong enough that she couldn’t be taken advantage of again. It was true that few people could best her in physical battles now, but she’d lost much, including her fine motor skills. Her hands trembled too much for her create the kind of artwork she loved, the painting and sculpting and drawing that she’d studied in school.
She caught a sympathetic look on Erick’s face and scowled at him. He wasn’t reading her thoughts, was he? She knew Starseers could do that, but Jelena had promised that mature and civilized ones didn’t intrude often.
Erick jerked his gaze back toward the road. It was hard to tell under the artificial lights mounted to the stone walls and ceiling, but his cheeks might have reddened.
“It sounds like we’ll be flying back to the core worlds with our cargos. I’ll finally be able to get a good sys-net connection, and I can do some live quests with my crewmates in Striker Odyssey.” Erick tried a tentative smile. “I mentioned to them that one of my real life crewmates likes to play vid games. Would you be interested in making a character?”