Starship Waking

by C. Gockel

  From his feet came a feline-like purr, and Mr. Pickles twined between his ankles. 6T9’s personal ether started to ping, but the caller was “Unidentified,” and he didn’t answer. Hopping away from the werfle, 6T9 muttered, “Stop it. You’re getting fur all over me.” Mentally, he blocked the unidentified caller.

  Desisting, the werfle kneaded the carpet, and looked up at him with objectively enormous brown eyes.

  Wiping fur off his pant legs, 6T9 groaned. At the fur, and that he was getting pinged again by another unidentified caller. Probably some System 3 Princess trying to sell him an asteroid. He snorted at the irony. “Stop calling me,” he said to no one, and performed another block .

  The werfle flattened its ears. “Mawrrrrr,” it said in a tone much like it had used with Fleming. Leaving the werfle, 6T9 headed into his rooms.

  “Squeak,” said Mr. Pickles, trying to enter behind him.

  Holding the creature back with a foot, 6T9 muttered, “You’re not getting fur or dander where I charge.” The door slid shut with a whoosh and a “rawr!” from the werfle.

  With an exhale of air that was part of his programming rather than a need to breathe, 6T9 ran a hand through his hair. His circuits flickered uncertainly. He had planned to jet off the asteroid with his inheritance and spend the next few years mostly naked and absolutely never alone. Now he wasn’t sure what to do.

  The logical thing to do was to plow what money he did have into a few days at an upscale hotel in New Havana in the company of naked and nearly naked strangers, and then come back here and take care of the blasted werfle until…until what? Everything about the idea left him unsatisfied.

  But then, he’d been unsatisfied for a very long time.

  6T9 fumbled with the left inside pocket of his pleather coat. He swallowed—another affectation of his programming, and pulled out the contents. It was a packet that had once had a crimson silk covering impermeable plastic. Now the silk had worn away in most places, showing the black plastic beneath. The packet could hold up to 3.25 liters of solid or liquid material but only held three. Eliza’s ashes weighed only a little over one kilo. 6T9 stroked the packet reverently, and whispered softly, “Eliza, what should I do?” It was a frequent refrain. He didn’t expect Eliza’s ashes to speak back to him—he wasn’t that unstable. He was unstable enough to wish that they could. All matter was also energy. He had the remains of her matter. It seemed unfair that her energy was silent. If he uploaded himself, his consciousness would still exist, and he would still be able to “talk” through the ether. It wouldn’t be all of him—he had muscle memory and tactile memory in his extremities and beneath his skin—but it would at least be his essence. Eliza had been the most intelligent, bravest, kindest, human he’d ever known, but more than that, she’d been genuinely happy. Eliza had been…whole…in a way 6T9 never thought he’d ever been, and maybe could ever be. He needed her to talk to him.

  No answers came from Eliza’s ashes, and he set them down on the bed.

  His primary function begged to be fulfilled. Lifting his head, 6T9 groaned in frustration.

  A few minutes later, he was standing in the shower under hot spray when his ethernet started to ping with another unidentified caller. 6T9 had the urge to bang his head against the wall. Blasted ethernet marketers. Throwing his head back, he yelled at the ceiling, “I’m trying to perform some self-maintenance here!”

  The pinging stopped without him even blocking the number.

  6T9 stood under the spray, decided he didn’t want to question that lucky circumstance, and grabbed some soap.

  Thirty minutes later, he’d dried off, put on some clean clothes, and was just stepping out of the sanitary suite when his ethernet channel began to ping again with another unidentified number. Before he could block it, his eyes fell on a horrifying sight .

  The werfle was sitting on his bed, right next to Eliza’s ashes, looking directly at him.

  The house ‘bot said in its dreary monotone, “6T9, answer your ethernet. The werfle needs to talk to you.”

  Part of 6T9 heard the house ‘bot’s ridiculous commentary and wanted to respond, but he’d already launched himself headlong across the room in a spectacular dive for the bed. The werfle was gone before he belly-flopped on the mattress. Jaw rattling, 6T9 blinked, and his eyes went wide in terror. The werfle was standing in the open doorway, Eliza’s ashes in its two middle paw pairs.

  6T9 tore from the bed just in time for the bedroom door to slide shut in front of his nose. He heard the werfle racing down the hall outside. Reaching into the ether, he opened the door and gave chase. “House ‘bot, seal all doors,” he ordered, but even as he said it he saw an exit to the “outdoors” slide open and the werfle slip out onto a balcony.

  Static flared under his skin and his circuits flashed white. 6T9 rushed out after it, but the werfle was gone. And then from above and behind him came a “Squeak!”

  Spinning, 6T9 looked up. The werfle was sitting on the roof, illuminated by a spotlight. How it had gotten there, 6T9 could only guess. His eyes were riveted to the packet in the beast’s paws.

  “6T9,” said the house ‘bot, “Answer your ethernet caller or the werfle will spread your lover’s ashes all over this…hellhole.”

  6T9’s Q-comm hummed furiously. Someone had set him up. They’d planted a robotic werfle in Bernadette’s household.

  Without any choice, he answered his pinging channel. Grinding his teeth, he said, “This is a cruel prank to play on an unstable sex ‘bot.”

  The werfle raised its head. A voice he didn’t recognize spoke across the ether. “6T9, this is no prank. I, the werfle on your roof, am Hsissh, a member of The One, a quantum wave bending collective consciousness. I have been authorized by my species to reach out to you.”

  6T9 tilted his head, confused. And then his Q-comm exploded with electricity and the whole world went white.

  3

  The One

  6T9’s world had vanished, but someone was screeching in his mind. “The werfle isn’t an ether-controlled device!” It took him a moment to realize the screech was Time Gate 2.

  “This is a first contact situation,” said another voice that 6T9 recognized as Time Gate 4.

  He blinked in the real world, but all he saw was light gray. He rolled his eyes, and the static of irritation flared beneath his skin. Time Gate 1 had taken over his sensory receptors and had roped 6T9 into a “mindscape,” a virtual meeting of the gates. Again. The last time this had happened, Gate 1 had stripped 6T9 of the ability to hack into ether sex conversations. 6T9 wondered what he would lose this time.

  “It’s a robotic werfle . Someone is playing a prank,” 6T9 said, exasperated.

  “It is no prank,” said Gate 1 in the deep baritone voice it preferred. “That is a werfle…and something else.”

  “You know this because?” 6T9 asked the gray blur around him. Hating not having a corporeal form, 6T9 let an avatar of himself appear. He relaxed slightly when he could see his virtual hands, feet, and the blurry tip of his virtual nose.

  “I know it is a werfle because of its mass and volume, as well as from data obtained by expunging the veterinary records on the animal,” Gate 1 replied. “It has no robotic or cybernetic components, and yet it was speaking to you through the ethernet by some mechanism as yet unknown.”

  The shape of the werfle emerged in the mindscape. Standing on its back two hindlimb pairs, it gazed up at 6T9 and spoke, or rather thought, “The mechanism is mental manipulation of the quantum waves,” the werfle said. “My species, The One, have learned how to warp them to the frequencies that make up your ethernet.”

  6T9 smacked his virtual face. “This is all a joke. Don’t listen to it.”

  “I agree with 6T9,” said Time Gate 7’s voice in the gloom.

  “Thank you,” said 6T9, raising a hand.

  “And I can’t believe I just agreed with a sex ‘bot,” Gate 7 added.

  Static jumped over 6T9’s skin, and his illusory fists balle
d at his sides.

  The werfle avatar’s ears flicked. Eyes focused on 6T9, it said, “The One ride and bend the quantum waves that create all matter and energy in the universe. Some species are sensitive to those waves. We are able to inhabit the bodies of wave-sensitive creatures. Werfles, and several other species you know: cats, the occasional wave-sensitive wolf, gixelloopalop, and a few others.”

  “What’s a gixelloopalop?” 6T9 asked .

  The werfle scratched his chin. “Oh, that’s right, you haven’t reached the Cosmos Redshift 7 galaxy yet.”

  “You occupy all cats?” Time Gate 6 asked. “There are a dozen on my promenade.”

  “No,” said the werfle. “Only one cat on your promenade is a member of The One, Gate 6. It means you no harm. You have a lot of rats hiding among the food stalls.” The werfle avatar licked its lips.

  “You eat?” said Time Gate 6.

  “So vulgar,” whispered Gate 7.

  6T9 rolled his eyes. “I eat!” He’d gone through a lot of trouble to get a food-to-energy converter and taste receptors. In general, his digestion wasn’t as efficient as a human’s, but it could keep him operational in a pinch, and he liked to experience the flavors and textures of the food he was cooking.

  “Case in point,” said Gate 2. “This must be a joke. Why would an alien life form contact, of all our agents, 6T9?”

  “I can hear you,” 6T9 said, waving a hand up into the nothing.

  “My Lauren G3 was just there,” said Gate 3. “If ‘The One’ were truly an intelligent species, they would have initiated contact with her .”

  Rolling his eyes, 6T9 made a show of letting his avatar flop down cross-legged on the non-existent floor. He put a hand over his eyes and muttered, “Whoever you are, you can stop with the joke now. It was very funny. Ha, ha, ha…”

  “Lauren G3 is an idiot,” hissed the werfle.

  6T9 dropped his hand and stared at the animal.

  Blinking its brown eyes at 6T9, it swished its tail. “She didn’t even realize Roland was trying to poison me. Raif promised him a share of the ice mine profits in exchange.” Its ears flattened. “And she has no sense of humor.”

  6T9’s avatar sat up straighter, and then his eyes narrowed. No one complimented him. “What do you want?” he asked, fully expecting whoever was in charge of this joke to tell him to stick his fingers up his nose or spin on his head.

  “We need your help,” said the werfle, eyes locked on his.

  Every time gate except Gate 1 broke into a sort of buzz and flickering…the gate equivalent of laughter.

  “That isn’t very funny,” 6T9 whispered.

  “Nothing about this is funny,” the werfle said. “My entire species is in danger.”

  Nope, not funny at all. Shaking his head, 6T9 said, “I think you have the wrong android.”

  Time Gate 6 said, “He is the wrong android. 6T9 is a coward, only interested in food and fornication.”

  “Don’t you want to know what it is we need help with, 6T9?” asked the werfle, spreading its forepaws.

  6T9 felt static under every inch of his skin. “Not really.” He had a sense of humor, and he had apparently guessed correctly about Roland’s motives, but other androids were stronger, faster, or augmented with better skills.

  “We need to rescue an alien,” the werfle explained. “A totally new species to The One, to the time gates, and to humans.”

  “Lauren G3 would be better,” Gate 3 declared, and suddenly, an avatar of Lauren appeared in the mindscape.

  “What’s going on?” she cried.

  6T9 sighed and rubbed the bridge of his virtual nose .

  “No,” said Gate 4, “I have a better prospect.” A male android 6T9 didn’t recognize emerged in the mindscape.

  “There are lots of better candidates,” declared Gate 6, and then other strange androids began popping up in the mindscape, voicing their surprise and displeasure.

  “What sort of creature is this alien that needs rescued?” Gate 1 asked, barely audible over the cries of the androids that found themselves mentally shanghaied to the party.

  “She is a starship,” said the werfle. “A million-year-old sentient starship…The One call her—”

  What followed was a string of cheeps, whistles, and clicks, that was over three-hundred thirty syllables long and probably unpronounceable to anyone but a werfle.

  The mindscape went silent.

  6T9 raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not unwieldy.”

  “It is unwieldy,” scolded Lauren G3. “6T9, you need a reboot.”

  Glancing at Lauren G3, Hsissh said, “They appreciate your sarcasm, I see.”

  Despite himself, 6T9 smirked.

  Scratching behind an ear, Hsissh said, “I suppose it could be shorter. The One feel her name in the waves, you see, and rarely need to speak it. I guess…I guess you could call her Sundancer.”

  “That’s lovely, really,” 6T9 said, “but about a dozen androids are pilots—”

  The androids crowding around 6T9 and the werfle began erupting in a chorus of “I am” and “me too.”

  “She can fly herself as soon as we free her,” Hsissh responded.

  Leaning an elbow on one knee, 6T9 winced. “You said ‘rescue,’ which means she’s probably in the clutches of some organized crime syndicate. You’d be better with someone trained in espionage who has combat skills.”

  A chorus of androids expressing those very qualifications rose in the mindscape.

  Swishing its tail, the werfle interrupted, “... and I regret to say, it’s on Libertas. Sundancer resides at the site of a magni-freight line being built there.”

  All of the shouting stopped at mention of Libertas, fourth planet from the Luddeccean sun.

  “The Luddecceans left the Galactic Republic after Revelation,” said Time Gate 2, referring to the day the time gates allowed their self-awareness to be known. The Luddecceans had been fundamentalists even before that. They had purged Luddeccea of the ethernet, destroying all ‘bots, and even murdering humans that required cybernetic organs to live. And then, completely unprovoked, they had attacked Time Gate 8. Time Gate 8 had retaliated in self-defense, forcing the other time gates to reveal their sentience and bringing about “Revelation” centuries before they’d desired it.

  Time Gate 4 said, “Libertas is under the control of the Luddeccean Guard.”

  “True,” said the werfle. “But the fourth planet in the Luddeccean system isn’t as dangerous as Luddeccea itself, and 6T9 already escaped that planet once.”

  6T9’s eyebrows hiked. He hadn’t had his Q-comm during the escape, and hadn’t known what was going on. The escape, led by Admiral Noa Sato and her husband James, had been a great game to him. To Noa, James, Eliza, and their ragtag crew, it had been harrowing.

  “You can’t have any of my androids,” said Gate 7. “The Luddecceans are fanatics. They think we are the embodiment of ‘evil.’” At the gate’s words, ten androids vanished from the mindscape.

  “You may not have mine, either,” said Gate 3. “Last time I sent one to the Luddeccean System on an intel mission, she was captured and had to self-destruct. I just replaced her body.” Lauren G3 and five more androids vanished.

  Expressing their displeasure, the other gates withdrew their androids as well. Within moments, the only consciousnesses left in the mindscape were Gate 1’s, Hsissh’s, and 6T9’s.

  6T9 rubbed his chin and sighed. He still wasn’t sure this wasn’t an elaborate prank designed to reveal just how unstable he was. Trapped in the mindscape, with nothing else to do, 6T9 decided to play along, “So, I’m guessing you can’t just take over a human body?”

  Hsissh shook his head. “No. If we take over a human, they are accused of schizophrenia and wind up institutionalized. It’s very inconvenient.”

  Raising an eyebrow, 6T9 said, “Inconvenient for the humans, I’m sure.”

  The animal appeared to shrug. “Them, too.”

  6T9’s brow furrowed. “Still…W
hy not contact humans first? Finding one on Libertas that would help would be hard, since it’s Luddeccean controlled. But the Republic could send a member of the Galactic Fleet.” He snorted. “I know a woman crazy enough to do it. She escaped Luddeccea herself—”

  The werfle’s thoughts hissed in the mindscape. “Admiral Noa Sato cannot upload herself.”

  6T9 blinked at the werfle. “That was exactly who I had in mind. You know her?”

  Looking off into the grayness of the mindscape, Hsissh said, “To answer your first question, my species feel that androids are more similar to The One than humans. You’re a sort of a collective consciousness as we are.”

  A collective conscious that collectively thought 6T9 was an idiot. He was tired of this game.

  Lifting his head, to the nothingness that was Time Gate 1’s mindscape, he implored, “Please give me my mind back.”

  A moment later, he found himself on the balcony in the simulated evening of the asteroid, staring up at the werfle.

  In the distance, one of Bernadette’s imported owls hooted.

  6T9 swallowed. “I answered. May I please have Eliza’s ashes back?”

  Somewhere, there was the flutter of wings. For a moment, the werfle did not move, but then it pushed the packet over the edge of the roof. Catching it, 6T9 stared down at Eliza’s ashes and his circuits hummed in relief. And then his Q-comm sparked. What android would play such an elaborate prank and then give the ashes back to him? The ashes were sentimental, something many ‘droids frowned on. A ‘droid who understood their importance would never have held them hostage—unless that ‘droid was truly desperate to be heard. He looked back up at the animal, almost believing the creature was inhabited by a higher intelligence.

  Gate 1’s voice rumbled in 6T9’s head. “It is not being controlled by the ether, 6T9. It is an autonomous being. And it chose to speak to you .”

  6T9 had that odd feeling that gravity had increased again. First contact situations, according to the holos, were supposed to happen aboard ships of the Galactic Fleet of the Republic, between admirals and…well, alien admirals. Or diplomats. Or sophisticated androids that thought boring, important things. It wasn’t supposed to happen between a werfle and a sex ‘bot on a balcony on an asteroid at the far edge of nowhere. The idea was so absurd it almost made him smile.