by Mierau,John
“So it really is a care package,” she whispered.
“Seems to be,” Travis said. “Daisy says the thing’s been stuffed with raw material, but there’s no crew, no remains of a crew, no internal living space at all. The tech is advanced, and even though there’s been some serious degradation to the ship’s nerve systems, it’s probably still got a lot of data we can mine without hurting the thing."
“Gold in them thar hills,” Lou repeated.
“Captain Sam!” Whish bleated, swooping low over their heads as they approached the first bubbling cluster of rainbow-colored alloy melted onto what was only hours ago the outer hull of the Betty. “Tell him to unplug and chill out for a while!"
Salix knelt, still and silent, on the floor, his hands hung limply at his sides and a cluster of roots and nodules fell from his left to disappear inside a small hatch on the Betty’s skin.
“I needed to see the Eternal for myself, Captain,” Daisy answered, but her voice didn't appear from the air around them, it came from the voice box around Salix’s neck.
Lou pointed at the box. She had a question ready to go, when the answer hit her and her finger trailed along the roots disappearing inside the open hatch.
“Daisy and Salix are…"
“Related,” Sam nodded. “Trees start out as little floating weeds, then mimic more complicated life forms and pattern themselves after -well, us, in Salix’s case- to learn more about the world and take all that experience back to their mother trees.”
Whish farted loudly for attention. “Let the scarecrow go, Daisy, he’s been hooked up long enough to fix him up! There’s too many humans around here, I need my wingman back!"
“C’mon, Whish,” Travis called upwards, annoyed. “Standing right here!"
“Fix…?” Lou started, but Travis filled in the holes on his own.
“Trees are like a hive, and the oldest, biggest Tree like a Queen Bee. Daisy processes out toxins that would otherwise build up and kill the scarecrows — uh, worker forms that care for her, like Salix. And, swhile they’re connected, all his memories are passed on to Daisy to become part of the hereditary record."
“Mother nothing!” Whish taunted “Daisy's actually closer to — well, a God if you ask Salix. Me, I think he’s got stock market syndrome."
“Stockholm Syndrome,” Travis corrected, and threw in a glare to shut Whish up. He leaned closer to Lou. “Whish is a bit of an atheist. But yeah, Salix can’t live on his own without Daisy, but Daisy can’t do much without Salix, or her ties to the Betty, either. Usually Trees have thousands of scarecrows serving them, but Daisy—actually, I’ll save the story of how we came to have a Tree for a ship’s computer for another day."
“If I wanted to be elsewhere, Captain, I would be,” Daisy said on the air.
“And we’re lucky to have you, Daisy,” Travis called out warmly.
Whish farted again.
Lou resisted the urge to rub her forehead.
So damn much to learn.
“So what do you think, Daisy?” Whish asked, swooping closer to Salix’s still form. “Is that rainbow scow alive?"
“Yes, the craft is alive,” Daisy replied. “It possesses capacity for growth, functional activity, and continual change preceding its death. I suspect it has been hibernating the entire time it was trapped by the Thorn. As yet it is only responding to my stimuli reflexively, therefore it may not have fully woken from hibernation. Or, it may simply be senile after all this time alone."
“I’d love some time alone,” Whish muttered, eyes swooping over the crowded observation deck behind them.
“I get the feeling Whish doesn’t like us much,” Lou murmured.
“Mostly it’s you,” Travis whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “He was attached to that big window on the bridge. He used to fly up and perch there for hours."
"Would you rather be dead and have a window?” Lou asked.
"You're just lucky we had blast doors that closed the breach when you blew it out, or we’d both be dead and the Six and Betty would either be debris or wearing a Guard tail number."
"Educated guess after I saw the blast doors come down to block that last Boomer," Lou said, grinning. “We were almost out of ammo, that Tumbler was rolling right for us with nothing to keep him from getting sucked out—"
Travis leaned closer. “And thats another thing! You’re lucky we both fit inside my chair's restraint harness."
“It was a little snug,” she said, the grin widening.
Travis shrugged. "Get us a new window and Whish will forgive you. I already do."
Lou turned to say something mocking to Whish -she had the feeling the Manta would respect little as much as some good trash talk- but mercifully was distracted by Salix rustled back to life, reaching down and gently untangling the nodules around his wrist. They slowly retracted into the open hatch as he stood and clacked his forearms together in greeting.
Salix reached up, too fast for Lou to see, and grasped one of Whish’s fins. “I was right,” came his machine voice from the box around his neck. “The ship’s alive. You’re buying the first round."
Whish sank lower and laid both mouth graspers on Salix's shoulders, surprisingly gently it seemed to Lou. “I told you, you just get yourself back in one piece and your best friend would buy all the rounds."
Salix patted the graspers and nodded. Even Lou could clearly see the walking plant was touched by the Manta's affection.
Then he reached past the graspers and slapped the side of the month.
"Well if the chicken's buying, I'd better get right to drinking.” He spun Whish up into the air, and headed for the grill.
Whish flew after him, bleating "Sal, I'm not a chicken!"
Lou emptied her glass and let the burn distract her from the million and one questions whirling in her brain.
Her crew was stuck far from home, likely lost in this place forever. Their fates were now tied to these virtual strangers aboard the Betty, and to the whims of life in a lawless system full of aliens and strange governments. Humans were the bad guys here, it seemed, and the most feared warlord in Farlost wanted to capture them, and strip away their secrets.
But all that would wait until tomorrow. It could all wait. The burn in her gut did it’s job, and the tumult of her thoughts died down, letting her move on to more pressing business.
“So, Captain Sam…” She stuffed the glass in a suit pocket, and turned to Travis, nudging his shoulder with her own. "Where to now?"
“We should talk about that,” Travis said, turning and meeting her gaze earnestly. “We're in this together, Commander. Betty and Six aren't going anywhere separately for a while. The Guard will make life hard on us, we have to stick together, and that makes us partners, as far as I’m concerned. Fifty-fifty on profits, and decisions. I have some ideas, and I want to talk them through with you. I know where a fleet of independent spacers meet for trade in the winter belt. No matter how much resources are on board the Eternal—” Travis looked up again with a hopeful gleam in his eye, then he shook his head and looked back at her. “—the ship still need repairs, we need more intel and, frankly, some allies to keep us out of the Guard’s crosshairs.”
Sam laughed. “The thing is, Commander, Betty was out of gas when we met, literally and figuratively. You think we saved you? Well, you and your people saved our lives, too."
“Partners?” Lou asked, feeling her stomach shift in a funny way after Sam laid all his cards honestly on the table. She stepped closer. “Thank you." Lou reached out and laid her hand on his hip, fingers splaying under his vest. “But, I meant, where to…right now?” She sidled closer, and adopted a thoughtful expression. "My bunk on Six is still zero-G, which suggests some interesting possibilities...but sometimes it's good to be traditional."
Travis nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m all about tradition,” he murmured, and pulled her gently toward the ramp.
Lou let him steer the way, as she let her eyes roam over her celebrat
ing crew, her new allies, and the living ship above. Together, they’d survived more than she’d ever thought they could, despite the poker face and stubbornness she’d stuck to through it all. Together they had survived, and if this was the game fate had dealt her a hand in, Lou was damned well going to to play.
First, she’d learn the rules, then she’d break the rules.. and then she’d teach Goss, Robison, the Thorns, and anyone else who threatened her crew, a whole new way to play the game.
She stepped in close to Sam’s side, wrapped an arm behind his waist and knit her fingers tightly between his as they started down the ramp.
She’d start all that tomorrow.
After a warmer welcome to Farlost.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John Mierau is a professional writer, narrator and podcaster living on the shores of Lake Ontario in the wilds of Canada. John writes about strong characters in intriguing situations: space opera, near-future thrillers, conspiracy tales, suspense stories and more. His free podcasts have been downloaded millions of times and are available from ServingWorlds.com and iTunes.
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Copyright © 2016
By John Mierau
Table of Contents
The End
The Beginning
The Shit Hits
The In Between
The Betty McKenna
The Arrival
The Aftermath
More Humans
The Troublemakers
The Boomers
Putting Heads Together
The Hail Mary
Warm Welcome