TEN
I had Stingray hover near the globular cluster the entire day. No Adamant ship followed us. It was disquieting. My double jump wasn’t that tricky or massively clever. It was no Admiral-Nelson-wins-Trafalgar type of naval maneuver. Why didn’t they follow? Going back to basics, there were always two options. Either they could or they couldn’t pursue us. If they could catch up but didn’t, it might have been because they were afraid of us. I listed it, but it wasn’t very likely. Or it wasn’t worth the trouble. Maybe they knew we’d be back and would acquire us then. That required patience and hope, not qualities I thought those puppy dogs possessed. It could be that we were just too insignificant, but they were singularly focused on anyone opposing them.
The justifications for them not being able to follow us was just as dubious. Could they not see our second trail? Unlikely. An ion trail was an ion trail was an ion trail. Maybe they couldn’t leave the galaxy? But why? Yes, technically the globular cluster was outside the Milky Way, but deep space was pretty much uniform. In the end, I just stuck the situation away in my WTH File. The reason would be known to me in time. I had plenty of problems to solve. There was no need to dwell on one unanswerable topic.
I needed to set my vortex manipulator straight on combat etiquette. She’s nearly gotten us fried.
“Stingray,” I called out to her, “you got a minute?”
“I’m confused, Form. I don’t own anything, least of all time. What do you ask?”
Oh boy. Another concrete-thinking alien construct. Just what I needed. Yet another challenge.
“Is that an expression also? What don’t you choose to verbalize?”
I regretted Cragforel not being able to supply me with any alcoholic drinks. I needed a shot and a beer right about then. No, I needed a few. I started a mental supply list.
“Here’s the thing, back in our confrontation with the Adamant, you did well.” I wasn’t exactly lying. I was using the management skills I learned during my years of military service. “However, I think one can always strive for improvement. Don’t you?”
“What? Can I think or can I strive? I definitely think. I am a vortex manipulator. Striving is something I can probably learn. My intelligence is designed to be pliable.”
“No, I mean even that although you did well in the battle you could have done better. I can share certain thoughts and observations with you that will allow you to improve your performance in the future. Doesn’t that seem desirable?”
“Sharing thoughts and observations or my performance improving? Really, Form, I think you should strive to improve your communication skills. I am willing to help if your AI function is equally as pliable as mine.”
“We’re having an intervention for me to help you, not the other way around.”
“Ah. So is it that you do not want help from those close to you in your personal growth, or is it that you would like me to schedule a time in the near future when I might begin these set of tasks?”
In my mind, I saw the image of me wrapping up Management Skills 101 in butcher paper and throwing it really hard into cold, dark, endless space. I was done with them, permanently.
“Stingray,” I said in my badass command voice, “during the recent fight, you asked stupid questions at critical times that nearly cost us all our lives. Please know that I do not value your life or mine. I do, however, supremely value the life of that little girl in the bathroom. I will tolerate no actions or incompetence that might lead to her being harmed by the Adamant, by you, or by the man in the moon. If you fail to act with intelligence, alacrity, and an appropriateness that reflects forethought in a crisis once more, I will personally rip you out of this vortex and cast you into the nearest black hole. Is there any aspect, large or small, linguistic or formed by the movements of my body, that you do not fully understand?”
There was a blessed silent period following my diatribe.
“No, Form. I fully take your meaning and intent. As much as it pains me to correct you, however, I must update you on one fact.”
“What?” I snapped angrily. I was about done with this machine.
“The little girl in no longer in the restroom. She is standing two meters behind you, mouth agape and her next breath pending for a concerning period.”
I relaxed my shoulders. Without turning, I asked, “How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough, I should think.”
I turned to her. “Being in command is a hell of a thing, sweetie. I’m good at it, trust me. But it isn’t always pretty.”
She stared at me. I knew she had something to get off her chest.
“Do you have any questions or input you’d like to suggest?”
“Yes. I’m quite upset. I am not a little girl. I am not a big girl. I am a young woman, a young female Deft adult. Is there any part of that which you find challenging to accept or understand?”
“No, sweetie. You’re coming through loud and clear.”
“Good. I’m maturing. It’s a hell of a thing, Uncle Jon. I’m good at it, trust me. But it isn’t always pretty.”
“Sure.” Sure? What kind of dumbass response was that? I was a two-billion-year-old warrior; a general; a savior of worlds. I sounded sort of wimpy and completely Melba toasty. “Ah, anything else, sweetheart?”
“Yes. I think you were much too hard on Blessing. She has feelings, you know?”
“Blessing? You mean Stingray?” I pointed over a shoulder with both hands.
“I believe you understood my words. If not, we can discuss then later. For now, I will be in my room.” She spun on a heel and marched away.
“Ah,” I called behind her raising a finger, “you have a room now? I didn’t realize we had or needed rooms.”
I heard her voice echo back down the passageway. “Blessing fabricated walls, a restroom, closets, and a locking door for me earlier today.”
Then, I’d swear I heard a metal door slam shut.
It was going to be a long voyage.
Ten hours later, Mirraya reappeared, fresh and bright. I was slumped at the table staring at a cup of cold coffee.
“Good morning, Uncle Jon. How are you on this fine morning? Well, I pray.”
She swished over to the food replicator and tapped a few keys. A steamy tray was pushed forward for her to pick up. She filled a glass with some fruit juice and glided over to join me.
She leaned over her breakfast and smelled it deeply. “Ah, rostalop and ovum scramble.” Gazing at me, batting her luxuriant eyelashes, she added, “there’s no better way to start the day. Would you like some, Uncle Jon?”
“No, thanks,” I held up my mug, “coffee’s fine.”
She took a bite and wrapped herself with her arms. “Suit yourself, sweetie.”
“A word about names, if that’s okay,” I said. “You are more than welcome to call me Jon. That’s my first name. You can call me uncle. I’m not your parent’s brother, but it serves as an honorific, so I can hang with it. But please, Uncle Jon is just too long. Too stuffy. Okay?”
“Which would you prefer?” she asked with a smile.
“Oh, either’s fine. You choose.”
“All right, Uncle Jon. I will give the matter some thought and let you know when I decide.”
Oh boy. Real long flight ahead. Long life ahead. I was missing my solitude all of a sudden.
“On the subject of optimal communication, I would like to ask you a question, if that’s okay?” she said setting down her fork and folding her hands.
“Sure. Shoot.”
“We’ve been together for what, five or six days?”
“Six. Why?”
“I’ve begun to notice you drink occasionally, but rarely eat. I asked Blessing. She said you haven’t slept. Is that typical behavior for humans?”
Okay, the robot talk. Joy. “I’m not human. I was. I’m now an android.”
“Hmm. So, humans turn into androids? That’s a machine, right?”
“No. My home world was go
ing to be destroyed. I transferred to an android host to endure the long space flight needed to find us a new home.” I shrugged. “On the inside, I feel totally human.”
“And did you find that new home?”
“Yes. It wasn’t easy, but we made it.”
“Where are the humans now?”
I shook my head. “No idea. Cragforel suspects they’re gone.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Uncle Jon. I really am.”
I patted the backs of her hands. “Thanks. I know you understand the pain of losing something like that.”
She nodded.
“I want to thank you for what you said to Blessing yesterday, about protecting me. It was sweet. I appreciate it.”
“I meant every word I said. I’m going to take care of you as long as you need taking care of.”
She looked down and smiled. “We can be each other’s new family.”
“You bet. We are already.”
“What are we going to do, Uncle Jon? What…”
She began to cry softly.
I stepped around the table and hugged her neck from behind. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to have great adventures together; we’re going to kick the Adamant’s butts until they fall off; and then we’re going to have some more great times. After all that, we’ll find you some handsome shapeshifting doctor or lawyer and you two will settle down and raise a tribe of shifty babies. It’ll be grand.” I began rocking her as I finished.
She rested her hands on my arms. “And don’t forget the part about finding you a beautiful princess robot so you two can settle down and make little…”
“Toasters?” I said, cutting her off.
“Honestly, Uncle Jon, you’re impossible.”
I rocked her a bit longer. “So I’ve been told.”
ELEVEN
Finally, it was time to do something. We’d sat in one spot long enough to know the enemy wasn’t coming. Ergo, I had to decide where to go. Based on my last choice, I decided that going to Azsuram was too risky. With no other candidate on my list, I figured why not check out the globular cluster we hovered over. Maybe I'd find a clue as to why the Adamant hadn't followed us.
Those clusters were large spherical masses of uniformly old stars. They huddled around the center of the galaxy based on gravity from the supermassive black hole at the center of the Milky Way They had been the subjects of little up-close investigation, at least in my day.
“Stingray,” I asked, “do you have any data on civilizations inside this cluster?”
“Yes, Form. There are a few. All are ancient races, most of which have passed into societal senescence.”
“Into say what?”
“Societal senescence. They grew old and died, like a living organism. Form, from your world’s history I believe a parallel would be the once great Chinese, Persian, Roman, and Western European dynasties. In this instance, the entirety of the sentient species fades away and are lost.”
“Any active ones?”
“I have no good data on that. The Deavoriath have made no formal contact for ages.”
“Take us to the nearest planet where an advanced civilization was known to exist.”
“As you wish.”
I felt slight nausea, then she announced, “We are one hundred kilometers above Disulpf. It was home to the Gendo and Proclamate Hegemonies many years ago.”
“Are there any signs of life down there? Intelligent life, that is.”
“Not currently. There are no operating power grids or radio transmissions. No artificial satellites are present either.”
“How about plants and animals?”
“Some, thought those are sparse. It appears that the planet was severely damaged by the sentient races. Radioactivity, stable pollutants, and atmospheric warming are still at unhealthy levels.”
“Set us down near where you estimate a large city once stood.”
“Are you certain, Form? That action involves risk. There are many unknowns down there.”
“Ah, Stingray, who’s the Form?”
“You are.”
“So, whose opinion actually counts?”
“Yours.”
“And who has done this type of thing a thousand times before?”
“You.”
“Alert me when we land. I’ll be with Mirraya.”
“What are you two arguing about now?” was my greeting from Mirraya.
“We weren’t arguing. You must have a foothold on Mount Importance to argue with me. She’s a persnickety old hen, that’s all.”
“I rather like her.”
“Good for her. Now she’s one and one in the potential-friend department. Hey, we’re landing on an old planet named Disulpf. Let’s go check it out.”
“Are you certain that’s wise? Isn’t it kind of risky, too many unknowns involved?”
“You sound just like the old hen. Honestly, there’s probably nothing to discover. That’s partly why I want you to come. Our first assessment of a new world should be on an easy one. In the military, we call that a milk run.”
“Streaming lactation fluid suggest safety to your people? How odd.”
“Come on, my little worry wart. Times a wasting.” I took her by the elbow and led her to the equipment room. I fitted her with a safety suit and breathing tanks. The atmosphere outside was insufficient to keep her alive. I handed her a plasma rifle, took one for myself, and herded her toward the door.
It was good to be exploring again. It was good to be on solid ground again too. I found my pace quickened the farther we went and I had on a dumb grin I was only vaguely aware of. Mirraya, for her part, was less enraptured. She kept asking me to slow down, and the suit caused her to stumble several times. She sounded like she was swearing in some language I wasn’t familiar with. I had a way to go toughening this one up. She was such a … well, she was such a girl. Hmm. I elected to pull in my reins a bit and stayed by her side.
Stingray had set down near some very decrepit remnants of buildings. I made them out to be the crumbled foundations of a moderately large structure, maybe five to six stories tall. There had been a goodly sized town center on this spot a very long time ago. Vegetation intertwined itself in whatever signs of civilization remained. The place had a Mayan-ruins-in-the-jungle feel about it. I half expected Indiana Jones to bolt from the underbrush screaming, bloodthirsty natives in tow. Just as well he didn’t. I’d have shot first and asked questions later.
Standing amongst the rubble, there was nothing obvious of importance. I set my probe fibers down randomly to see if there were any treasures or clues under the surface. There was nothing fun, just more rubble. In an hour, I was bored and returned to the ship. I had Stingray take us to another site half a planet away. More scattered rubble without any other signs of civilization.
I was beginning to decide this planet was a write-off when Mirraya saw something.
“Uncle Jon,” she said pointing to the forest canopy, “look at those.”
A tribe of lemur-like creatures were scampering quickly tree to tree, making an awful racket as they traveled.
“They’re so cute,” she said with a big smile.
“Nothing’s cute until it proves it doesn’t want to eat you.” I stepped between her and the noisy lot. “If they come down aggressively, I’ll be forced to shoot them.”
“No,” she whined. “They’re harmless, I can tell. Don’t you dare shoot them.”
Okay, test of wills number one of an infinite number to come sprang to life. Once the lead lemur spotted us, it headed right for us. The tribe followed quickly, and in no time, they were on the ground sprinting toward us. I didn’t get the vibe that they were coming at us for some reason, just in our direction. I raised my rifle in any case, aiming at the leader.
Then the reason for their flight showed itself. A large furry beast charged though the treetops. This one was a predator, and its lunch was running to us for cover. Just as rapidly as the lemurs had descend
ed, the hunter sped to the ground. It was maybe fifty-sixty kilos, spherical in shape, with six arms. The appendages were used equally to move. It rolled toward us. The face remained locked on us. It had the requisite nasty teeth and big claws any good carnivore must.
I fired a single shot in front of it as a warning. Nothing. It sped up, if anything. The lemurs ran past us and up the nearest tree trunk. So much for mutual aide in a crisis. The hungry ball of fur focused on me, apparently content to have the nearest meal, not the original one now hell and gone in the canopy.
I raised my gun and targeted right above the mouth. As I tensed my finger to fire, something brushed past me. It was another furry ball, slightly larger than the one coming like a freight train. It whooped and howled just like the other, four arms flailing in the air. The attacker locked his brakes and skidded to a rolling stop. It raised its arms in an aggressive posture. The newcomer stopped a couple meters away from the attacker. Both beasties screamed and wailed raucously at one another. It was like two gorilla balls making shows of force.
I turned to Mirraya. “Let's back away…”
She wasn’t there. Her suit and clothing were on the ground, having been ripped off. The second furry ball must have—
No, there was no blood, no pieces of Mirraya scattered about. I snapped my head in a circle. Nothing, no sign of her. Where could she have gone to so quickly. Had she seen the second fur ball coming and split without alerting me? That would suck if she had.
Then the howling rose to a new high, and I pivoted to the confronting blobs. The larger one was charging the original one. The smaller one turned immediately and ran into the forest, up a tree, and disappeared.
That’s when it got weird. The newcomer did a triumphant dance and then started walking toward me like it was on a Sunday stroll in the park. I pointed my rifle at it and it stopped.
Embers: The Galaxy On Fire Series, Book 1 Page 9