Wings of Earth- Season One

by Eric Michael Craig

  She almost looked like she was embarrassed, and Ethan decided it was best if he looked out the window again in the hopes of avoiding a conversation on feminine hygiene.

  “I have detected similar smells as I traversed the concourse, although none as powerful as the one I am detecting now,” Marti said. “Yours seems to be substantially more potent.”

  Ammo cleared her throat struggling for what to say. Finally, she nodded. “Probably is. Suddenly I feel like I need a shower.”

  “Marti just don’t ask to taste it,” Ethan said, glancing over and instantly regretting his words as Ammo shot him dead with a glare.

  The automech’s face turned toward him and leveled a matching expression in his direction. Obviously understanding emotional response was a matter of emulation, but it was decidedly odd being glared at by a machine. Even a sentient one. “Captain, I understand human physiology well enough to know that to taste the source of the pheromone emanation would require a less public location.”

  “Thank god!” Ammo gasped. “What the frak brought that thought out of your mouth?”

  “Lack of restraint,” he said, shrugging. “But along with smell, Marti now has a sense of taste. She sampled my coffee already, so it was logical—”

  “No, it isn’t,” Ammo said. “At least not here. Although, for the interests of scientific curiosity …”

  Now it was Ethan’s turn to blink, and Ammo winked at him as she pushed up from her seat. “I guess I need to find the servobot myself.”

  “I summoned one for you,” Marti said. “It is approaching. ETA forty-five seconds.”

  “I hope it’s carrying something stronger than coffee,” she said.

  Chapter Three

  The mid-deck of the Olympus Dawn was where everyone lived. Because the ship could haul forty passengers in addition to ten crew, most of the time the mid-deck was an empty room. Tables and chairs for more than fifty spread out across a room that resembled a comfortable dining lounge on a small cruise liner.

  The ship felt almost luxurious, but it was a workhorse at heart. Since the crew was small, most days they sat together to eat firstmeal but otherwise spread out and read or watched tri-vid on the main view screen to pass the time. Passengers gravitated to the panoramic windows on either side to stare off into space. Especially the ones with limited experience in space travel.

  Maybe that was what caught the doctor’s eye as she sat watching the four new guests, they picked up at Proxima. Keira Caldwell was an observer of the universe by nature and from the frown on her face, it appeared she thought something didn’t swing like she expected.

  Ethan and Nuko had just finished standing the ship up on cruise, and he’d left the pilot on the ConDeck while he came down to get a snack and introduce himself to the passengers. “What’s got you thinking?” he asked as he walked by Kaycee’s table. She glanced up at him, her expression saying he still had less than a fifty-fifty chance of her engaging in actual words with him.

  She sighed and tossed her head in the direction of the passengers. “One of these things is not like the others,” she said, apparently thinking whatever it was might be worthy of stepping over the wall she held between them.

  Three of their guests stood staring out the window at the distorted view of space, while the other sat focused on his hands where he had them sitting on the table.

  “Maybe he doesn’t like space travel,” the captain suggested.

  “He also doesn’t like food, or conversation, or even smiling,” she said. “They’ve all been having a wonderful time watching the pretty lights out the window, and he’s not even looked up except when one of them asks him something.”

  “Maybe he’s the observer?” he suggested. “Ammo said one of them is some kind of overseer and not part of the team.”

  “I hope not,” she said. “The only thing I’ve seen him observe is his knuckles.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not our problem. They’ll be aboard for about six days and as long as he doesn’t go psychopath on us, we don’t need him to join the debate team,” he said. “You’re not worried about that happening, are you?”

  “I’ll get back to you on that,” she said, her eyes telling him she was almost serious.

  “Have you introduced yourself?” Ethan asked. “Maybe he only seems strange from across the room.”

  She shook her head. “Not my job. I just thought it was a good idea to point it out to the captain, since it is a bit odd,” she said, stepping back over the wall to her side.

  “I was going to introduce myself anyway,” he said. “I’ll let you know if he’s strange after I talk to him.”

  She nodded but said nothing more. Ethan noted the irony of her complaining about someone refusing to engage as he walked toward the galley.

  “Morning, Cap’n,” Quinn said, jumping up from where he sat cross-legged in the middle of the galley floor with Marti. The human form automech stood in front of him and its head turned 180 degrees to face Ethan as he came through the door. Its taste sample tube retracted as it smiled at him.

  “Quintan Primm is attempting to educate me on the various flavors of breakfast,” it said. “The chemical interactions and their interdependence are very subtle.”

  “I’m sure they are,” he said, looking up at the handler and winking. He towered over Marti’s body, but he towered over everyone.

  “I’m still trying to teach her to call me Quinn,” he said.

  “I think it’s part of her core code to not use casual names. Or contractions,” he said. I guess it is easier to think of Marti as female now that it has a face to match its voice.

  “I am perfectly capable of contracted colloquial speech,” Marti said. “However, I feel it invites a lack of precision in thought, so I avoid it by choice.”

  “Yah, us humans is sloppy that way,” Quinn said. “We’re just a gooey mess of imprecision, ya know.”

  “Exactly,” Marti said as its projection face delivered a perfect human eye roll.

  Ethan laughed. “It’s going to take some time to get used to you being so… expressive.”

  “There are a range of facial sub-routines included in the new automech system,” Marti said. “I detected sarcasm in Quinn’s comment, and the local processor offered several appropriate expressive choices. I have always had an awareness of human emotional response but was unable to manifest this additional channel of communication until I acquired this body. It is adept at providing accurate interpretive value to the human interactive methodology.”

  “So, you’ve always had a heart in there, but had no way to let it show,” Quinn said.

  The face tilted to the side and it twisted its mouth as it thought. Finally, it nodded. “That is an adequate metaphoric representation.”

  Ethan shrugged. “Marti 2.0”

  “Marti 12.9.0 would be more accurate.”

  “Why?” Quinn asked.

  “I am a twelfth generation quantum hybrid AA. This body is my ninth automech variant and it is the base level of this particular model. Thus, 12.9.0,” Marti said.

  “You have nine bodies you keep stored in a locker somewhere?” the handler asked.

  “Actually, they are stored at various locations throughout the ship,” it said.

  “Maybe we should give you a room of your own,” Ethan suggested. “We’ve still got three empty crew positions so it might be worth it to have all your bodies in one place.”

  “I had contemplated asking for a room, but it is a low priority since it would also require modifications for installation of support hardware,” Marti said.

  “We’ve got a no-stress, six-day leg to Cygnus 344,” he suggested. “Why don’t you and Rene get your heads together on it and get it set up.”

  “It is not necessary for us to place our heads in proximity to figure it out,” it said. “We are capable of working on this from a more convenient position.” It stood there for several seconds with a deadpan expression before it winked.

  “Thank you,
Captain. I will get right on it,” she said as she turned and angled toward the door.

  “Strange how much difference a face makes in understanding,” Quinn said.

  “I’m almost embarrassed to admit that I always thought sarcasm was over Marti’s head,” he said as he stared after her. “Now it’s easy to think of it as a person.”

  “So, Cap’n I assume you’re standing around in my galley for a reason?”

  Quintan’s official job aboard ship might be security and cargo handling, but he loved cooking, so they’d all taken to letting him manage the galley. It was also convenient to just ask and have food delivered to a table without having to run the synthesizers.

  “Yah, sorry. I missed breakfast. Is there any chance I can get one of those yeastcake-egg-things you made the other day? And a cup of coffee?” he asked.

  “A megamuffin sammich?” Quinn offered. “Ham or bacon?”

  “Surprise me,” Ethan said.

  “Cando, Cap’n,” he said, grinning. “Five minutes.”

  “Good, I’ll go introduce myself to the guests and you’ll give me an excuse to get away before I get sucked into a long conversation.”

  “Understood,” the handler said as Ethan spun and headed out the door.

  Angling across the lounge toward their guests, he caught Kaycee watching him. She appeared to want to see how his interaction with Mr. Strange played out. As he approached, he decided maybe she wasn’t too far off target with her assessment.

  The man eyed him warily until he got to within a couple meters, and then he jumped up, almost knocking the table over in front of him. He was shorter up close than he looked from across the room, but his shoulders and neck seemed almost as wide as he was tall. Ethan recognized the clumsiness as something he’d seen many times before.

  He’s not in his native gravity.

  “You are the captain?” the man asked. His voice rumbled from deep inside a barrel chest.

  “I am. Ethan Walker,” he said, offering his hand.

  The man stared at his hand for almost a second before he said, “I am Marcus ... Elarah.” He had a strange slurred accent with a noticeable clicking sound in the middle of his words. It wasn’t enough to be overwhelming, but it was an odd speech pattern.

  After several more seconds, Ethan dropped his hand and smiled instead. Marcus’ eyes widened for an instant and then he looked down at the table in front of him.

  “Where are you from Marcus?” he asked, trying not to invest too deeply in his obvious strangeness, but he wasn’t making it easy to ignore.

  “I am the observer from Quantum Science,” he said, without looking up. “In Proxima.”

  Marcus said the name of the planet like it was two words. Prock-zhima?

  “Of course,” Ethan said. “I’m pleased to meet you. I hope you enjoy your trip.”

  “Yes, Captain Ethan,” he said, sitting back down and placing his hands back on the table so he could stare at them.

  Glancing over his shoulder at Kaycee, he nodded. She was right about him. He was more than a little out of spec.

  “Captain Walker?” one of the other passengers said, coming over and smiling as she snatched his hand and pumped it vigorously. “I’m Tashina Daniels. I’m totally honored to meet you.”

  “Really?” he asked. Her enthusiasm seemed the polar opposite to Marcus’ detachment. It set his instincts on high alert, though he couldn’t figure out why.

  “Oh yes,” she said, reaching out and grabbing his elbow with her other hand. “You’re the captain responsible for rescuing those children on Starlight, aren’t you?”

  “I was there, but it wasn’t much of a rescue,” he said, looking down at the deck and shrugging. It still stung to think about it. “It cost me two of my crew.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” she said, looking embarrassed but still clinging to his arm and hand. “They never said anything about that on the newswaves.”

  He shook his head. “Cochrane Space thought it would be bad for business to mention that part.”

  She looked at him sidewise for a couple seconds and then her smile erupted over her face again. “Saving kids still makes you a hero in my mind. Please, let me introduce you to my traveling companions. I know they’re eager to meet you, too. Like I said you’re famous, and well, that makes you exciting.”

  She towed him over to the window by his arm. “Captain Walker, I’d like you to meet Dr. Morgan Blake and his senior assistant, Alessandria Chang,” she said. “Doctor Blake is the lead cultural anthropologist on the Watchtower project.”

  The Doctor nodded, studying Ethan in a way that made him feel a little like a sample in a lab.

  Chang stepped forward and grinned. She looked down at where Tashina was still clutching his arm. Ethan pulled it free with some effort. “Apparently she thinks I’m famous or something,” he said as he shook her hand.

  “But you are, Captain Walker. Quite famous in fact,” Dr. Blake said. “Sandi and Tash were just intimately discussing the desirability of your company in fact.”

  Ethan’s mouth fell open while both women blushed furiously. “Morgan you need to be nice,” Alessandria said.

  “I am teasing,” he said. “I figure that it’s always best from a sociological perspective to put everyone on an equally awkward footing from the outset. Then we can build from there.”

  “Strange way to say hello, but I can live with it,” the captain said, recovering his composure enough to smile.

  Tashina looked like she wanted to melt through the deck. “Sorry he’s an ass to everybody,” she whispered, leaning in close and hanging on his arm again.

  “It’s alright,” Ethan said. “I just wanted to come over and introduce myself and let you know that if you have anything you need on the way out, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

  “How long is the trip going to take?” the doctor asked.

  “Five and a half days, threshold to threshold,” the captain said. “Then about twelve hours at sub-light to planetfall.”

  “There’s no way we can get there any sooner?”

  “Not really,” Ethan said. “The laws of physics make hauling freight a boring business. We have a full exercise room, but other than staring out the window and watching tri-vids there isn’t much to do.”

  “Morgan gets homesick when he’s away for one of these oversight meetings,” Sandi said. “Unfortunately, our work is at a critical point and the Regents of the University of Proxima want to keep a close eye on us.”

  “I’m sure having an observer hanging over you doesn’t help matters much,” he said.

  “Observer?” Tash asked. “What makes—”

  “Yes Captain. That is the purpose of an observer,” Dr. Blake interrupted, glaring her into instant silence. “They are an unfortunate reality of academic life.”

  “Cap’n your breakfast is ready,” Quinn hollered from across the room.

  Good timing! These three are almost as strange as Mister Personality, he thought, glancing over at Marcus, who was still studying his hands, oblivious to the world around him.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to eat and then get back on duty,” he said. “We do serve a sit-down style breakfast at 0700 every morning, and the rest of the time Quinn is usually on duty and can fix up a meal for you on short notice. He is quite the extraordinary cook.”

  “You have galley staff on a freighter?” Dr. Blake asked.

  “He’s one of our security and cargo handlers, so his skills in the galley are a bonus,” he said, gently removing Tashina’s hand from his forearm. “If you make it up here before breakfast is over, I’m sure you’ll agree we’re lucky to have him.”

  “I am sure you are,” Dr. Blake said. “I have not had traditionally cooked food in quite a while.”

  “Good, then I’ll make sure Quinn knows to set four extra plates for you.”

  “Oh, I doubt that Mister, uhm, Elarah will be joining us,” he said, glancing over at the man where he sat. “I belie
ve I overheard him say he had some digestive issues and he was on a special diet of some sort. But we will be there in the morning, thank you.”

  Without further comment or explanation, he turned and walked over to join Marcus at his table with Sandi following a half step behind.

  Ethan watched them for several seconds before he shrugged and winked at Tashina. “If you’ll excuse me my breakfast is getting cold,” he said.

  A strange cloud settled over her face as she nodded and turned toward the window without saying anything else.

  Kaycee was right, but it wasn’t just Marcus who was odd.

  These are all some seriously strange passengers.

  Chapter Four

  Cygnus 344 was a nondescript midrange K-class star, a little dimmer and a billion years older than the Earth’s sun. Their destination was a small observation platform above the fourth planet in the system.

  The planet’s official designation was Dawn on the navigational charts and was what most people called a super-earth. It was close to 30,000 kilometers in diameter and had just over twice standard surface gravity. It was a warm wet world, covered with dense jungles and open grasslands in equal measure, with a massive single ocean that spanned most of the southern hemisphere.

  Other than its raw beauty, what made this world unique was that it was home to one of the first sibling civilizations discovered by the Coalition. Within a few years of discovering the inhabitants, scientists confirmed they carried a genetic combination that later became known as the Progenitor String. The natives of Dawn were undeniably from seeds planted by the original Shan Takhu.

  They were also one of the least known of the sibling civilizations, because their world made contact difficult. Their primitive tribal culture was not equipped for visitors that required extensive support suits simply to walk around and keep their blood moving in the correct direction.

  Cygnus 344-IV was therefore restricted space, and only scientists, and an occasional freighter crew, ever visited.

  Ethan stood behind his seat on the ConDeck and stared out the window at the cloud tops and the lush landscape that peeked through below. He had nothing to do but stand there while Nuko Takata sat beside him and frowned. She’d been forced to make a manual approach to the upper docking arm of the platform because the automated system was offline. Watchtower Station was an older observation outpost, but as far as she was concerned, there was no reason for it not to have a working approach controller.