Starship Waking

by C. Gockel

  Carl’s voice burst into 6T9’s mind. “Your right, hurry! ”

  6T9 spun. In his mind an image of a young human male appeared. The man had eyes as blue as a cloudless Luddeccean sky, curly brown hair that was nearly black, tan skin, and a wide open, innocent face. “That’s Judah,” said Carl. “He’s just there.”

  6T9 blinked and saw the young man down the road. He was wearing coveralls, carrying a lunchbox, and talking to some older men and a woman similarly dressed. He was leaning toward one of the older men, smiling at something the other man was saying.

  “He looks fine,” 6T9 murmured.

  “Those men are following him!” An image of men with military short hair and bearing appeared in 6T9’s ether. “You must warn him,” said Vera. “Hurry!”

  6T9 couldn’t see the men she’d depicted in his mind, but he dashed through the throng of people toward the young man. Skidding to a halt in front of him, 6T9 grabbed Judah by the shoulders. He was as tall as 6T9, but up close looked impossibly young.

  “Hey, whatcha doing,” said one of Judah’s companions.

  There was something “off” about Judah. It took a moment but 6T9 realized what it was. He had no neural port in the side of his temple. On Luddeccea they were forbidden. “Are you all right, sir?” Judah asked him, putting a hand on top of 6T9’s, his face writ with concern, and his blue eyes meeting 6T9’s. Sparks flew within 6T9. The word “sir” replayed in his processors, and his primary function began to activate.

  “Warn him!” shrieked Vera.

  “I think you’re in danger,” 6T9 said.

  Judah’s face went slack. His mouth fell open.

  6T9 hastened to explain. “Men are following— ”

  The boy slumped forward. Shocked, 6T9 caught him just before he hit the ground.

  “Thank you,” Judah murmured, and then his eyes rolled back into his head.

  “Judah!” shouted one of his companions.

  “What’s happened to him?” said the woman.

  “What’s that in his neck?” asked one of the men, and 6T9’s eyes fell on a small piece of cone-shaped black plastic protruding from just beneath Judah’s fourth cervical vertebrae. The human man reached forward, as though to draw it out.

  6T9’s Q-comm fired white hot, and he smacked the man’s hand away. “It’s poison. I’m an android. Let me.” Pulling the dart out, 6T9 lowered Judah to the ground.

  “Who was following him?” asked the woman.

  “I’m broadcasting their appearance over the emergency channel,” 6T9 replied, his voice monotone and droid-like. He filled the public emergency ether with the appearance of the two men he’d just seen, their location, and Judah’s vitals.

  “Got it,” said one of the boy’s companions.

  “I just saw him—that way!” shouted another.

  6T9 was distantly aware of Judah’s companions tearing away. Ripping a strip from his sequined shirt, he wrapped it around his hand so he didn’t spread the poison from the dart.

  Around him humans whispered. “Is he dead?”

  6T9 didn’t bother to check, he just began giving CPR.

  An hour later, 6T9 watched the medics drape a sheet over Judah’s face, and air rushed out of his artificial lungs. 6T9 hadn’t danced for joy when Bernadette died. But he hadn’t been precisely sad, either. He’d worked for her for four years. He did receive a salary, but really, he worked for the inheritance. Maybe when he’d begun, he’d hoped to recreate what he had with Eliza, but Bernadette had quickly proven to be nothing like his former lover. His first thought upon finding Bernadette dead was, “Finally.”

  But watching Judah being wheeled away…it was like watching a holo that you know all the words for, but having the actors change them at the last minute. Or a song sung out of tune. It was just…wrong. He’d known the young man for less than a minute, and still, it didn’t…compute.

  “So, you said you saw Tobias Martins and Uriah White following him?” said the station security officer.

  6T9’s head jerked toward the man. “What?” And then he remembered. Those were the names of the men they’d apprehended. “Oh, yes…they just…looked…”

  “They had Luddeccean spy written all over them!” hissed Vera in 6T9’s mind. “Their hair, their clothes, the lack of neural ports, and the Three Books pendants they wore! Luddecceans for sure!”

  “They just looked wrong ,” thought Carl, who was seated a few steps away by the wall.

  “...wrong,” said 6T9.

  “Uh-huh,” said the security officer. He was a middle-aged man, a little thick around the middle, with thinning hair. He looked tired and sad. 6T9 squashed the urge to put a hand on his shoulder, to offer a back rub or something even more intimate. His Q-comm informed him that such an offer might be seen as an effort to influence the investigation. Sometimes he hated his Q-comm .

  The man squinted his hazel eyes at 6T9.

  To Carl, 6T9 thought, “He’s suspicious.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Carl.

  The security officer’s head jerked down. “Oh, hey, a werfle.”

  6T9’s eyebrows rose. Carl was weaving between the officer’s legs—getting fur all over the poor man’s nice blue uniform—while looking up at him with big blinking eyes, kneading the ground with sharp claws, and purring loudly.

  “Well, you’re a friendly one, aren’t you, Werfy?” said the officer.

  6T9 watched the pedestrians and carts thread around the police tape, thinking of Judah’s hand on top of his, his blue eyes meeting his gaze, and the earnestness in his voice as he’d asked him, “Are you all right, sir?”

  No one called sex ‘bots “sir.” Judah hadn’t realized 6T9 was a sex ‘bot and yet the moment still felt oddly true. For the briefest of moments, it had activated 6T9’s primary functions in a way the clear advance earlier had not.

  Carl purred louder. Bending low, the man scratched him behind the ears. “There you go, Werfy,” the security officer said, and then straightened, not looking at 6T9 as he said in a gruffer tone, “I have your ether channel. I’ll ping you if we have any more questions.”

  With that, the man left on foot. The med-car drove off with Judah’s body.

  In 6T9’s head, the still as yet unseen Vera said, “I know of no other Luddeccean refugees…our plan has failed.”

  “Yes,” said Carl. “Sundancer knows…”

  Darkness started to creep into the edges of 6T9’s vision. He shook his head, but it didn’t help. The darkness became a deep and familiar startlingly inky blackness. “Are you relaying Sundancer’s consciousness to me?” he asked Carl.

  The werfle cheeped mournfully. “We failed her, and she knows it. Her sadness is overwhelming.”

  “Stop relaying it to me,” 6T9 said. “I need to be able to see.”

  The world brightened. The werfle was laying on the floor, all ten legs spread eagled—or spread werfled—looking like a picture of dejection. Frowning, 6T9 picked at the shirt he now wore. It was a simple poly, made of recycled castoffs, threads of several different former garments woven together in a mottle of green, gray, and blue; it was very drab. It was also surprisingly soft. One of the medics had given it to him to replace the one he’d ripped.

  “If we return to the asteroid, 6T9, no one would even notice you left,” Carl sighed across the ether.

  6T9 thought of 32DD and her new garter, the laughing granny in the slum below, Judah’s blue eyes, and his new shirt. For a few minutes, he’d been…maybe happy wasn’t the right word, but in the moment? Content? Fulfilled?

  He couldn’t go back to the asteroid. Eliza wouldn’t give up so easily. His nostrils flared. “No, we’re going in.” They were going to brave Luddeccean space and make their way to Libertas and Sundancer.

  “How?” said Carl and Vera in unison.

  “The same way I left Luddeccea!” 6T9 declared, and then gritted his teeth. “But I was too dumb to know what was happening so I’m not actually sure how we did that.”

 
Carl interjected. “The mines are a new defense— ”

  6T9 cut off Carl’s signal, held up a finger for silence, and reached out through the ether for a different channel. To his surprise, Admiral Noa Sato answered in less than a human heartbeat. “Sixty! It’s been too long. I’ve been so worried about you. I tried calling you after Bernadette died, but you never answered. I know you must have been upset.”

  “I’m not calling about that,” 6T9 replied across the channel. “Noa, when we were escaping Luddeccea, how did we get past the Luddeccean Guard with only a handful of people and weapons? I didn’t follow most of it.”

  “We blindfolded you for most of it so you didn’t get distracted.”

  6T9 sighed at the memory, not completely unhappily. “Yes, I thought it was a very long interesting form of foreplay. It wouldn’t have been the first time Eliza was so imaginative. There was one time when she stripped me naked and handcuffed me to a—”

  “You know she was my aunty, and that I don’t want to hear this, right?”

  6T9 huffed. “I don’t understand humans.”

  “Mmmm ...” was Noa’s only reply.

  Carl squeaked and waved a paw.

  6T9 sighed and said, “How did we escape Luddeccea? We were right in the capital.”

  “Well, we created a diversion to keep most of the troops occupied…”

  “And then?”

  “Blasted our way through. It wasn’t exactly a secret ops style mission. As soon as we could, we jumped to lightspeed—time dilation frustrated our pursuers.”

  6T9 rubbed his chin. “The vessel we escaped in didn’t have much in the way of weapons.”

  There was a burst of static over the ether, the mental equivalent of a snort. “It had nothing in the way of weapons. Even the cannon was for asteroids and debris.”

  “How did we manage?”

  “We improvised. Anything that could be a weapon we used as a weapon. We repurposed things, we—”

  “I’ve got the picture,” said 6T9. “Thanks.”

  “Sixty, what are you up to?” Noa asked.

  “Werfle sitting. I am werfle sitting…on an asteroid. Bernadette left me her werfle and her asteroid, but only the asteroid so long as I legally reside there—I mean here—and take care of her werfle.”

  There was a pause. “Sixty, I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You know James and I could—”

  “Unless you’re finally offering me that threesome, no.” He was joking. Mostly. Maybe.

  There was a too-long pause. “Sixty…”

  “Oh, look the werfle is going to spray the ficus. Gotta go. Love you! Love James! Bye!” He disconnected and looked down. Carl was looking up at him through narrowed eyes, head cocked back like a viper. No wonder some humans thought werfles were evil.

  Aloud, 6T9 said to the werfle, “We’ll buy…stuff…and weapons…and create a diversion.”

  “With what money?” Carl asked.

  6T9’s Q-comm felt like it was physically getting hot. “With the shuttle’s gold chandelier, bathtub, sink, and toilet.”

  Carl blinked at him. “That might work, but it’s not really your ship. You may be accused of stealing…you could go to prison.”

  6T9 shrugged. “If we reach Sundancer, it’s not like I’m bringing our ship back anyway, is it? I hear people are desperate for sex in prison. It could be worse.” It could be the asteroid.

  Carl weaved between 6T9’s legs, rubbing his furry body against him. “You undertook this journey expecting to go to prison?”

  6T9 picked the werfle up and deposited him at arm’s lengths. Bending to brush his pants, he said, “Please don’t do that. You got fur all over me.”

  “You have interesting priorities, 6T9,” said Carl.

  Before 6T9 could ask what he meant, a child’s voice echoed down the thoroughfare. “Vera!” shouted the child. “Vera Rubin!”

  Carl spun and 6T9 looked down the lane. The source of the call was a little girl chasing a sleek, black werfle.

  6T9’s circuits dimmed. “Vera Rubin…is that a popular name for werfles around these parts?” Hadn’t Noa mentioned a werfle named Vera Rubin at the Kanakah Cloud? Noa herself had a werfle named Carl Sagan …he looked down at the creature at his feet.

  Carl looked at the ceiling and twiddled his fore claws.

  Vera’s voice rushed over the ether. “My pet has spoken to Judah upon occasion. She may have intel for you!”

  “Admiral Sato has had several werfles,” 6T9 said, eyeing Carl suspiciously.

  It was Vera who answered. “Admiral Sato is Hsissh’s pet. She has been for several of his lifetimes. Hasn’t he told you?”

  “Carl Sagan…” 6T9 said, remembering the white we rfle he’d known during his escape from Luddeccea. 6T9 had almost beaten him to death with a broom. It was before he had a Q-comm processor, and he’d had trouble distinguishing a ten-legged weasel from a common rat. “Noa’s Carl Sagan.”

  Carl Sagan licked a paw. “The same. It seemed a lot to spring on you at once.”

  “You were her pet, Carl Sagan?” 6T9 sought to clarify. If this was that Carl, he had known how dumb 6T9 had been, but had still reached out to him first. It didn’t make sense. “Noa would be far more qualified for this trip than me.”

  Carl’s lip curled, revealing the tiny fangs that would eventually become venom laced again if they weren’t milked. “No, she can’t upload herself.”

  Over the ether came an indignant rush of static from Vera. “She’s Hsissh’s pet. We don’t like it when our pets die,” Vera declared, jumping on 6T9’s pant leg and dashing up his chest, tiny claws tearing into his skin.

  Grimacing, 6T9’s shoulders fell. “As I expected. I’m expendable.”

  “No, you idiot,” Carl hissed. “You’re uploadable .”

  6T9 blinked.

  Panting, the little girl chasing Vera reached 6T9 and bounced on her toes. “My werfle!” she cried, holding up a hand.

  6T9 caught Vera by the scruff of the neck and held her out to the child. Vera wiggled and squirmed in the air. “Ask Lillian—my girl—about Judah!” the werfle cried over the ether.

  6T9 met the child’s eyes. She had a moon-shaped face, dark eyes, shoulder length black hair, and she smelled like a child. His primary functionality shut down completely. “Lillian,” he asked gently. “Do you know a man named Judah?”

  “Please give me back my pet,” Lillian said.

  Vera’s voice sang through the ether. “Isn’t she cute? She thinks I’m her pet .”

  Kneeling down, 6T9 handed the werfle back to Lillian. “Of course.”

  Lillian pulled Vera close and kissed the creature’s head. Vera purred. Stroking the werfle’s neck, Lillian looked up at him and said, “I know Judah. He is from Luddeccea.”

  6T9’s processor slowed at her use of the present tense. She didn’t know he’d died. He wouldn’t be the one to tell her. “Luddeccea?” 6T9 asked gently. “I thought no one came from there.”

  Lillian stepped closer and whispered, “It’s a secret.”

  “Did he tell you anything about how he came here?”

  She shook her head. “But he told me about Luddeccea.”

  “What did he say?” 6T9 asked, hoping it was something useful.

  “That it’s filled with monsters!”

  “Monsters?” 6T9 tilted his head. “Lizzar?” They were enormous creatures that looked like a cross between a cow and an iguana. They might look dangerous, but they were herbivores, and only dangerous if you stood behind them when they lashed their tails.

  Lillian’s nose wrinkled. “No, silly! Lizzar aren’t monsters.” Her face got serious. “There are monsters everywhere on Luddeccea and even Libertas—everywhere in Luddeccean space! They’re hideous and terrible. They’ll kill you in your sleep, and steal babies, and eat your livers. ”

  “I don’t know of these creatures,” Carl said over the ether.

  6T9’s own dubiousness must have s
hown on his face because Lillian continued hurriedly, “They live where Time Gate 8 dumped the radioactive stuff!”

  6T9 blinked. During Revelation, the gate above Luddeccea had dropped improvised atomic and chemical weapons on the planet in self-defense. Noa had said it would take centuries to clean up since Luddeccea had refused to accept Galactic help and hazmat ‘bots.

  Lillian’s voice dropped to a whisper again. “The monsters are called the weere .” Her face was serious, her tone urgent.

  Static crawled along 6T9’s spine. Something about her tone reminded him of something…from before himself, before he had a mind.

  7

  Four Months Later Luddeccean Standard Time: Rainy Season

  It was going to rain. Volka could smell it in the air as she hurried through the checkpoint into No Weere. Ducking her head, she wove through the maze of ramshackle houses toward church.

  It was late—again—and she hadn’t had time to stop at home and get a bite to eat, or to ask Myra if she’d come to church with her. Of course, Myra always refused. She’d barely left Volka’s house in the preceding months, except to hock some jewels Abraham had given her. Before her belly was noticeable, she used to shop. Lately, she’d just given Volka money for groceries. She was tidy. She did not say anything negative or positive about Volka’s paintings. It could have been worse, but they were not any closer than when Volka had taken her in, maybe because Volka was rarely home.

  She groaned. She was hungry, tired, and frustrated. George, Mr. Darmadi’s chef, had retired suddenly, and on top of everything else, Mr. Darmadi had tasked her with finding a new one. She had to accomplish this before an upcoming dinner party with an important head of state .

  “Volka!” Myra’s voice from beside a shanty made Volka’s head turn and her ears snap forward.

  Myra hurried toward her, hand on her midriff. She was so close to delivery, and Volka wondered if maybe they hadn’t grown closer because of Volka’s own jealousy.

  “Volka, I went to see my mother. I wanted…” Bowing her head, she said, “It doesn’t matter what I wanted.”