He chuckled.
Andy turned to see the other security guard crouched next to a crate in the center of the room. The drones were nearly finished and only four crates remained in the bay. Drones lifted the two nearest the door and floated through the opening. A process complete signal floated over the Link like a bird’s trill.
The main door screeched as it began to close. Andy spotted Jickson at the control panel, tapping the screen.
The heavy door closed and sealed, sending a vibration through the deck. Atmospheric pressure began to rise as Jickson activated the environmental system, including heating.
Andy nearly protested because there was no need to waste energy heating the cargo bay, but didn’t want to give them any more info about his situation than was necessary. He wanted them to take their cargo and leave so he could focus on his other problems.
Karcher opened a side panel in the nearest crate and looked like he was checking a security token. Several lights flashed on the panel, and its lid unsealed, popping open a few centimeters.
From the other side of the bay, Dr. Jickson cursed.
Andy’s suit signaled that atmosphere levels in the bay had reached ship standard. Beside him, Starl reached up to unlock and pull off his helmet. His curly beard shined in the low bay lights.
Jickson crouched in front of the crate and pulled off his helmet as well. Thin blonde hair clung to his round head. He bit his lip as he studied the crate’s controls, pink fingers stabbing at the lock mechanism.
“I prefer to talk person-to-person,” Starl said. His voice was even deeper now. He scratched his forehead and ran his hand through his hair, digging at his scalp. “Humor me, Captain.”
Andy stared at him, then reached for the latch at the base of his own helmet. He pulled it off and took a deep breath. The air tasted stale due to the outdated scrubbers.
“I can see you’re in a tight spot here,” Starl said. He gestured toward the bay and Andy’s suit, which was still smeared with Stansil’s blood.
When Andy opened his mouth to protest, the other man held up a hand, palm out. “You’re a proud man. I respect that.” He placed the hand on his heart. “I’m a proud man, too. I’m not a good father like you are, though. Me, I make decisions without worrying how they’re going to affect anyone but me. You don’t allow yourself that luxury. Am I correct?”
Andy shook his head, not wanting to confirm the existence of the kids. It was becoming obvious that Starl knew more about him than he had let on.
Behind Starl, Jickson got the crate unlocked. Its lid hissed as it popped free and Jickson stood to swing it completely open. He put a hand on either side of the crate and stared into its interior, nodding as he took stock of the contents.
“I know it’s true,” Starl said, “so you don’t have to say anything about that. I also know your ship is dead. You blew out your main drive making it into Cruithne. You’re practically dragging yourself like a zombie. I can taste the rust in your environmental systems. Your ship’s AI must be blind because we walked right up to your airlock without so much as a whisper in response.”
“He doesn’t have an AI,” Jickson said, head in the crate now.
Starl shot him an irritated look, then turned a considerate gaze back on Andy. “Which says even more. You’ve been piloting a light freighter across Sol without an AI. How does someone even do that? I don’t know. I’m not a pilot, but to me it’s like someone telling me they’re going to transmute lead into gold. You have these skills, Captain Sykes. Amazing skills. I’ve read about you. I’ve talked to people about you. All these skills and you left them behind to become a family man.”
Andy swallowed. He didn’t like where this was going.
“It’s obvious to me you have a plan, you have things you want to do with your family, but life keeps getting in the way, right? Your ship is falling apart underneath you, Captain. What if I could help you with that?”
“I’m not anybody special,” Andy said. “You told me yourself, I’m just one out of ten ships that ended up with your cargo on it.”
Starl grinned as if he’d been caught in a lie but he wasn’t going to explain how.
From the crate, Jickson made an excited sound and took a step backward, magboots clicking on the floor. The crate made a whirring sound as its four walls split and lowered to the floor, revealing a collection of folded metal structures inside. These were also set in motion, opening around what Andy realized was a couch. When the mechanism had finished unpacking itself, a portable surgery stood in the middle of the cargo bay. Jickson nodded his satisfaction and went immediately to the next crate.
Andy raised his rifle and took two steps back, putting Karcher in front of him. He had to drop his helmet in order to grip the weapon properly.
Karcher responded by raising his rifle.
“Calm down,” Starl said. “Please, calm down. This isn’t what you think it is.”
“You’re not here to harvest my family? Because that’s sure what it looks like.”
Jickson snorted a laugh. “You think I would need this level of equipment for a harvest job? Please.”
Starl had raised both his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Mr. Karcher, lower your weapon.”
Andy could barely see Karcher’s pale face through his helmet. The man’s gaze flicked to his boss and back to Andy before he finally lowered his rifle.
“I’ve got a deal for you, Captain Sykes. I need something else transported off Cruithne to a location in OuterSol. Out of ten captains, you were the only one resourceful enough to even make it into Cruithne. Which I guess limits my options. In light of your other constraints, I’m still inclined to think you’re the best man for this job.
“In exchange for this transport, I’m offering ten days of dry dock for your ship to get her back in shape. I was going to recommend a new ship but I think there’s something about this one that works for you.” He shrugged. “Though a new ship is still on the table. At the end of the job, I’ll pay you well. Probably five times what you made in the last four years, knowing what I pulled out of your logs.”
Andy’s mouth went dry. The sinister form of the portable surgery swam in and out of focus behind Ngoba Starl’s shoulder. He blinked.
The offer was too good to be true. Obviously, it was dangerous. People had already died.
“What do you want moved?” he asked finally.
Jickson surprised him by speaking first. “An Artificial Intelligence, Captain Sykes. In your head.”
Chapter Twelve
STELLAR DATE: 06.27.2958 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Bridgefield TSF Medical Facility, Fort Salem
REGION: High Terra, Earth, Terran Hegemony
Twenty-Three Years Earlier
Andy spent a week in recovery after the surgery implanting his Link. He had to sign a contract stating that if he failed out of the Academy, his status as a cadet would turn into to a ten-year enlistment. He had stared at the screen fo
r a minute, the words running together until he could barely read them, before signing his token and accepting the contract. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal until he’d woken with a crowd of voices in his mind and thought he was going insane.
“Good morning,” a cheery voice next to the bed called out. “I see you’re awake.”
Andy blinked at the white ceiling, trying to make sense of the lines that eventually became square tiles. His temples throbbed with a blinding headache.
“Andrew?” the woman’s voice asked. “Can you verify your name for me as Andrew Sykes?”
“Andy,” he said, turning his face toward the sound. “My name is Andy.”
A holographic woman stood next to the bed in a crisp white nurse’s uniform. She looked like she had walked out of some ancient story. Was she designed that way to make old people feel better? How long had he been asleep?
He dragged his hands out from under the sheets and stared at them. His fingers didn’t look any different than he remembered. He squeezed his eyes closed until the room stopped spinning.
“Very good,” the woman said. “My name is Sandra. I’m here to help you adjust to your new Link. We’ll be working together until you can access its basic functions and understand the intermediate communication methods. Andy, are you listening?”
He nodded, trying to focus on her and not the wall behind her. His eyes didn’t want to cooperate.
“How long was I out?” he asked.
“You have been in recovery for ten hours.”
Slowly, Andy reached behind his head to feel the bandage running from the base of his neck to just above his right ear.
“Why is it such a big bandage? I thought this was supposed to be a tiny cut?”
“Some surgeries prove more challenging,” Sandra said. “Yours may have been one of them, but I am not allowed access to personal medical records and I can’t answer any questions relating to your treatment or the medical professionals assisting you. Are you ready to start your training on your new Link?”
He squinted at her, trying to see her face inside the glaring halo of light surrounding her head. The white ceiling wasn’t helping him focus.
“More challenging? Why?”
“I can’t answer any questions relating to your treatment or the medical professionals assisting you.”
Andy let his head fall back on the pillow and winced when a lance of pain shot up the right side of his head.
“I think my pain killers are wearing off.”
Andy’s eyes went wide. Her voice was inside his mind but not part of him. The words drifted away as soon as he heard them, but he couldn’t be sure he had heard them at all because there was no sound.
“Did you just speak to me?”
Andy tried to only think his response but couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth to speak. “I can’t do it. Are you reading my mind?”
“I am not reading your thoughts, that is not possible over the Link. You must direct your communication to me. The sub-routine in your Link will recognize my token and route your messages accordingly. I can only hear what you intend for me to hear. However, I can still see your expression.”
Andy relaxed his frown.
“Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?”
“No, I don’t want you to remove it. I didn’t think it would be hard to use. Everyone else makes it look like second nature.”
Andy stopped himself before he answered. Pressing his lips together, he thought a combination of Yes/Affirmative.
“What?” Andy demanded, frustration getting the best of him. “You didn’t say anything about emotion. How am I supposed to stop that?”
“You’re a very strange program.”
“I think you’re responding in whatever way you think will get me to learn fastest. Does this mean I respond to authority?”
she said.
Her words hung in his mind, alongside several flashing images that he recognized as news and documentaries, as well as a map of Summerville—he didn’t understand at first until housing blocks and the branches of the Ashley River made sense. Everything had the quality of a half-remembered memory, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.
He wasn’t sure what had changed. Something about the sound of her voice in his mind made more sense this time, like mimicking someone’s accent. He had never thought of his inner voice as having different tones but that was how he responded; deeper, enunciating, knowing clearly what he wanted to communicate.
Sandra smiled, leaning toward him. Her voice purred in his mind, sending a tickle down his chest. He couldn’t help a quick glance down her body; whoever had designed her uniform had made it hug her curves in all the right places. How hadn’t he noticed that before? He squirmed slightly in the bed, aware that his body was starting to respond to the warmth in her voice.
“Yes, I feel that!” he said uneasily.
Her voice came like a slap in his head.
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