by Bex McLynn
"So brilliant. And a ship, too, Rannik! How many other cadets out there run a clade with a spirenought?"
"Well, it's more the thane's clade now."
"Eh, whatever." She channeled Vedma's dismissive wave. "We all know it's your clade, Rannik. Look, you're walking around Prykimis, armor-free, because it's your clade. Ack! I need to hug you again."
He tried to fend her off, but only half-heartedly. She seized the upper hand and grappled him about the middle, snuggling in tight. She probably ruined his moment with the guards, too.
"Seph," he said miserably.
She relented and pulled back. "How long can you stay?"
"Until you leave for the Trine cruiser. Then I have to go back to Deleo."
"No, no." Seph grasped his hand and dragged him into the Athel cabin, taking a seat on the couch and pulling him down next to her. "That's hardly any time at all. I have questions for you."
"Like what?"
"It's about Prykimis."
"And you want to ask me?" he said, sounding confused and flattered.
"Well, yes. It's because of the questions you had asked me, back when you thought I was a Lassie. You were gauging my responses."
He nodded, directing his gaze over her shoulder as he thought back. "Sure. Athelasan logic gates are fascinating, Seph."
She flushed with guilt. "And I cheated you out of studying it further."
He smiled at her. "Maybe not. You're technopathic. For all we know, humans are Athelasans."
"Interesting theory, but I'm not Athelasan. My people haven't developed anything close to Prykimis. We could build the ship, maybe, but definitely not the engines or systems. We don't travel between planets in just a matter of days."
She watched Rannik absorb that fact, but before his mind went down that rabbit hole, she asked her question. "Do you think spirenoughts have artificial intelligence?"
"Artificial?" Rannik frowned. "You mean like trickery? That the ships are trying to mislead us?"
Seph paused. An interesting thought, but one she would explore later. "Not quite. I mean, are the ships able to think for themselves? I found information about moya on the AthNet."
"Moya is just a fad," Rannik said—and reminded her of Zver. "I think what you mean is sentient systems. There's a ton of scientific documents about those."
"Well, do you think spirenoughts have sentient systems?"
"It's been theorized," Rannik said thoughtfully. "With the sheer number of instructions running per second, some people believe the ships needed powerful systems that would make decisions, not simply process code. But there are also people who argue against thinking ships. Since we, the Teras, inherited technopathy from the Athelasans, they think there was no reason to develop thinking ships if a person could interface through technopathy."
Seph nodded. "I get it. Why have the ship think for itself when technopathy essentially connected a thinking person to the ship's systems."
Rannik shrugged. "And so the debate continues. When historians found schematics for Lassies, there were even more theories."
"So all the Lassies that I've seen—the ones that the Gwyretti trader had—those were built by the Teras? No one's ever found an original Lassie?"
"Not one built by the Athelasans themselves. That's why there are so many theories out there. People say we never should have built the androids since there is no evidence that the Athelasans themselves ever built them."
Seph just hunkered down with those thoughts for a moment. Then she turned to Rannik. "You knew I wasn't a Teras manufactured Lassie, didn't you?"
His coloring deepened again. "Yeah, I knew."
Seph took up his hand and squeezed. "You thought I was an original, Athelasan-built Lassie."
Rannik shrugged. "You were just so different. I'd never seen anything like you before. I had hoped..."
"Oh, Rannik. I am so, so sorry that I misled you. I really am. I just wish there was some way to make it up to you. Pay you back. Something."
"I'd rather things be like this, Seph." Rannik squeezed her hand in return. "Why were you asking about sentient systems and spirenoughts?"
Seph looked at Rannik and smiled secretively. Perhaps she could give him something in return. "Well, I felt something, right before Prykimis fired on the marauders."
"What did you feel?"
"I think the ship asked me if I wanted it to fire the guns. I didn't operate a firing sequence or take control of the weapons." Now that she spoke aloud, the incident seemed so suspect, almost like a hallucination. "Basically, I said 'please.'"
"That's all?" Rannik said, stumped. "Wait, what do you mean you think the ship asked you? You don't remember?"
"See, that's the thing. I don't remember, exactly. I remember being scared. And wanting out of the flex armor. I remember Wies carrying me. But I can't tell you everything that was said during the attack. It all kind of... blurs."
"Don't feel bad about that, Seph. That's common. Maybe in a few days, you'll have a better sense of it all."
"I think the thane knows I didn't fire the guns," Seph said as she chewed on her lip.
It felt foolish to say such a thing aloud, that the ship offered to help her because she got the sense that it cared about her. Not because the marauders posed a threat to the ship itself.
"Oh, the thane knows," Rannik said with assuredness.
She hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Zver did have a way of knowing things that she'd never told him. Why would this be any different? In any case, he hadn't discussed it with his officers while she had listened to the one-sided debriefing.
"Seph," Rannik said hesitantly. "Can you give me some time to look into this? Do some research and see if anything else like this has happened before?"
Considering Zver commandeered their clade, she could give to Rannik this task. Something between the two of them.
Seph smiled, pleased that she and Rannik had a secret again. Something between just them that wasn't hazardous to Rannik. "Sure. Let me know what you find."
Chapter Twenty-One
Seph kicked back, settling her boots on the highly polished table, and opened her arms wide—inviting praise, insults, whatever they wanted to throw at her. She was invincible.
"Am I sard enough for you now?" she said to Vedma.
Since Prykimis still shot darts at newcomers, Seph traveled to the Trine's sleek cruiser, Ahkera. Wies and Company, wearing full assault gear, crowded the narrow corridors. Seph even wore her flex armor, feeling like quite the badass.
"Ech." Vedma waved her off as she shuffled over to a chair. "I've seen sarder."
"Seriously, Vedma! That's all you've got to say?" Seph straightened, indignant as hell. "Prykimis is functioning. I did that."
Arana beamed at her. "We are very pleased with your accomplishment, dear."
Seph narrowed her gaze at Arana, waiting for the 'but' to follow.
Hyva, her attention pinned to her Cuneiform tablet, gracefully sank into her chair. "Well, you managed to power the entire ship for three minutes before loss of consciousness. Thirty-five percent of the systems that functioned prior to your episode are now offline again. The remaining systems are fluctuating."
"'Episode!' I powered the damn ship. Fired at marauders."
Hyva appeared unmoved. "It behooves all parties that you return to Prykimis, posthaste. I suggest we adjourn our meeting."
"Ech." Vedma gave her signature contribution.
Arana reached across the table and grasped Seph's hand. "Dear, what you did was truly phenomenal. Just imagine what you'll learn at the Academe."
Seph grimaced. "About the Academe. I'm not going."
Arana's expression blanked over. "What do you mean you're 'not going?'"
Vedma cackled in delight.
"Meaning, I want to stay with the thane." She felt her body heat at the thought of him. Sore muscles twitching in girlish glee as she pictured his intense green-gold stare. "Well, with House Borac. I could learn technopathy from him, c
ouldn't I?"
Arana blinked, looking confused. "He's a man."
Hell, yes, he was a man. Quite the man, in fact.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Well," said Arana as she released Seph's hand and sat back in her chair, "he wouldn't be able to teach you everything you need to know."
Seph laughed at that statement. "The man interacts easily with the AthNet and his own ship. What could he possibly not teach me?"
Watching Zver work his technopathy astounded her. She'd seen him multitask massive amounts of data—comms, reports, ship systems—and still hold in-depth conversations with her. He made it seem effortless. She had no doubt that he could teach her.
Arana cast her eyes away. "There are finer... points... taught at the Academe."
Apprehension twisted Seph's gut. "You said there wasn't a secret government lair. This is starting to sound very secretive."
Vedma released a heavy sigh. The kind of sigh, in Seph's experience, that preceded bad news. "Arana means the other houses. It'll be difficult for them to court ya if you're at Bulan Ero rather than on Teras Ero."
Her gut eased a bit because she was going to nix the whole courting idea once and for all. "I don't want to be courted. I've decided. House Borac, all the way."
Arana reached for her again. "You're claiming House Borac because of the cadet in your clutch?"
"No. I've released Rannik. We're clade now."
"You're what?" Arana squeezed, rather hard.
Seph pulled her hand back. "Yeah, clade. I'm in a clade with almost all of the House Borac fleetmen, too. My guards. The officers. Some crew 'formerly-from' House Jahat. No clutch. Just in a clade. Run by Rannik. From House Borac. Why is this so surprising to you all?"
Hyva answered first. "Because it's never been done before."
"But that doesn't mean it can't be done. Right? Is there a law or something?"
For the first time, Hyva looked puzzled, as if caught off guard. "No."
Vedma barked, slapping the table in her excitement. "I bet more than half those idiots think they're in a clutch. Ah, Fleet grunts."
"They do not. That was made clear. I'm not the clutch type. Only one man for me."
And that man was Zver. A small, ugly voice whispered 'until you go home,' but she ruthlessly pushed back. She cared about Zver. She based her decision to be with him on more than wanting to get home. She trusted him. He grounded her. Besides, he didn't clutch. Had said so more than once. So this thing between them, well, it was what it was for however long it would be. Here and now, she chose him.
"So you'll consider marriage? Well, that's promising," said Arana.
"I didn't say that, either. Look, I'm just trying to survive here until I can make it back home. This isn't my world. I'm not looking for power or prestige. I just want to be safe and treated like a sentient person. That's all."
Arana woefully shook her head. "But you're so much more than that."
Seph looked at each member of the Trine. "I really don't want to be. I am sorry, ladies. But I've made up my mind."
Vedma snickered and mumbled something, most likely nasty, to herself. Hyva directed her gaze to a portrait on the wall, lost in her own thoughts.
Arana sighed and said, "Dear, it's not that simple. You're a powerful technopath without an established Athelline."
"Meaning?"
"Since you're not from an established house, all houses are free to pursue you."
"I'm saying 'no,'" Seph said firmly.
Arana pursed her lips and then turned to Vedma. "How many clutches have you formed over the years, Vedma?"
The Elder answered immediately. "Dozens."
"Go on," Arana said gently. "Tell Seph why."
Vedma smiled—part nostalgic, part devious. "'Cause then those arses fought amongst themselves. Left me the hell alone."
Arana turned to Hyva. "Hyva, dear, why are you still at Academe?"
"Because I am not in a house," Hyva said.
"Are you considering joining one?"
Hyva didn't respond. She just shifted her gaze to another portrait on the wall.
Arana replied for her. "Students are discouraged from clutching until graduation. Since Hyva is an incredibly bright and gifted young woman, we indulge her and let her stay with us."
Seph's skin tingled, going numb with alarm. "You said I get to choose."
Zver. She chose Zver.
"And you do," Arana said it like an apology. "Clutch doesn't mean you take them to your brace, not unless you want to. Clutch gives allies."
Seph rubbed her arm, unable to soothe herself through the flex armor. Clutching wasn't alliances, but an illusion—protection that came at a cost. She wanted nothing to do with Teras intrigues and social riddles.
"Coming to the Academe, it will give you time," Arana said as she patted Seph's hand. "Going to House Borac, well, will only incite the frenzy."
The inside of Athel Halls tired Zver. Made him bone weary. He'd preferred the Athel Chamber, where he last saw Seph. The Hall aboard the TerTac Command Cruiser Larimda was as ostentatious as the Hall on Prykimis. The only difference, TerTac omitted the garish House Brace. Although, a brace would serve as a subtle reminder that the Dominion was fucking with you.
He also tired of viewing Thane Jahat's livid face, the man's praal stark against his jaundice pallor. Bone tired of the man pounding the table, saliva dribbling down his jowl as he spat irate, irrational accusations.
He wished Vedma were on hand to browbeat Thane Jahat into blessed silence.
Thane Jahat was a disgrace. He unabashedly hitched passage on the command fleet cruiser—his contingent of officers carted along like so much cargo. Since his arrival, the other thane not once inquired about the well-being of Prykimis's crew, her officers, or even his own son. He demanded that House Borac vacate Prykimis so that House Jahat officers could commandeer the spirenought.
Thankfully, TerTac Fleet Commander Sobeck interjected, declaring that the conference—to include a full debriefing—held priority. After all, Prykimis was secure. She wasn't going anywhere.
"Explain to me, again, Borac. How is this not treachery?" Thane Jahat demanded—how many times now? Zver didn't know. He refused to waste mental energy counting Thane Jahat's tantrums.
He sighed, not bothering to mask his waning patience in this matter. "The lady in question is a foundling, Jahat. Not a spy. Not a trap. You are not ignorant of history. Athela have been born outside of direct Athellines."
"The timing is highly suspect. She infiltrates my ship, suborns it, and then binds herself to your house."
The events did not unfold that way. Thane Jahat had been told, numerous times, the sequence of events. He still insisted there were intrigues and plots. Zver had plotted solely to salvage Prykimis right out from under House Jahat, but Therion had already achieved that goal. All else was merely a foregone conclusion. Prykimis was his.
"Lady Seph remains unbound," he said, promising himself that he would not say so again—because he loathed repeating himself, not because her unfettered state troubled him.
Thane Jahat glanced down at his WristCune. "That's not what I've been told. She's declared herself House Borac."
A cool alarm coursed through him. "And your source?"
"You don't deny it?"
He would not. If Seph wanted more than just the protection of his house, to swear herself to House Borac, he would grant it. He would deny her nothing that was in his power to give. In this way, she had him bound and that connection satisfied something deep inside him.
"I'll hear the words from Lady Seph."
Thane Jahat visibly bristled. "Well, when the hell are you going to shove off my ship?"
Zver turned to Sobeck, addressing the Fleet Commander. "House Borac requests stewardship of Prykimis."
Thane Jahat laughed heartily. "Like hell you do, Thanemonger."
Commander Sobeck—his praal stark with age, yet bodily still a robust man—didn't speak until
Thane Jahat settled. "What are your grounds, Thane Borac?"
"As a military asset, Prykimis falls under TerTac's anti-abandonment policies and must be salvaged, even if costs exceed her operational value. Likewise, TerTac policies state she should be protected from pillaging and looting. House Borac was ready and able to enforce these policies in regards to Prykimis, whereas House Jahat had not."
"You're a salvor," Thane Jahat said with a sneer, "that entitles you to a percentage for services rendered, not the whole damn ship."
Zver continued to address Sobeck. "She's now eighty-percent Athelasan systems. Jahat's men will not able to operate and maintain her. My men can."
"A valid point for the immediacy, Thane Borac," Sobeck said. "However, training can be addressed, given time."
"Trained by whom?" Zver glanced about the room. "Expertise lies with my house."
"Keep your damn expertise," Jahat said. "I'll convert her back to TTS parts."
Zver arched his brow and looked toward Sobeck. "And TerTac would stand by as an operational spirenought is again removed from service? How long this time? Another decade, allowing her to flounder uselessly, to be picked clean by marauder raids? We'd compromise the defense of the Dominion because Jahat is driven by petty grievances?"
"Those points have all been discussed by TerTac Command and the Dominion Council at length, Borac. I want to personally assure you, the services your house has rendered in restoring Prykimis are being applauded throughout the Dominion."
Pretty words. Not what he wanted to hear.
Sobeck took a fortifying breath and then said, "Your house was considered, Borac, but the spirenought will be delivered to another steward."
The irony did not escape him that both he and Thane Jahat challenged the Fleet Commander's announcement. The difference was in their reaction. Thane Jahat stood and railed. Zver sat and simmered.
A third contender. This was unforeseen.
Sobeck stood and closed in on Thane Jahat, pulling the other thane aside to hold a one-on-one conference. Pointless. Thane Jahat loudly protested each attempt to defuse his anger. His threats were unoriginal and near impossible to execute. His words nothing but frost on embers.