# Robot Awareness

Part I

By B.C. Kowalski

Cover art by Sara Miyanaka

Edited by Gina Cornell and David Cohen

First edition

Copyright © 2014, B.C. Kowalski

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-312-09968-5

## Chapter 7

The assassin quietly and calmly surveyed the small militia that surrounded them: Twenty soldiers in a tight, disciplined formation with ROU rifles poised at the ready, each prepared to shoot. They wore no insignia, but everyone knew without a doubt these were sent by whoever sent the first soldiers.

The assassin knew full well what was going on — her employer thought it'd found a cheaper way of erasing its target, allowing her to weaken this man before these soldiers could finish the job. After what she'd done to Rex, they'd have an easier time finishing the mission they came to complete.

The corner of her mouth ever-so-slightly turned into a grin. It wasn't a completely terrible plan — after all, it'd gotten them this far, with her target spitting blood on the floor of this Sasugan docking bay, trying not to get a drop on her sleek black boots, but failing as a splatter touched her left toe.

But they hadn't accounted for all the variables. They assumed, based on the code of her clan, that once there was no job, no assassination request, and no money, that she'd simply cut her losses and walk away. And if she'd been any other assassin in her clan, they might have been right. The assassin might have moved this employer further down the priority list, but then, so many of the assassination jobs came from Company C that no one could afford to blacklist the company if they wanted to earn a living in this deadly field.

In this case, they were quite incorrect, as Celia stood over the beaten man, who now appeared to be regaining strength. It became clear as she surveyed the perimeter that the soldiers weren't quite sure what to do. A fight with a Black Purl assassin wasn't exactly what they'd signed on for. Failing to follow orders would result in termination in more than one sense of the word, yet surely at least a few of the soldiers weren't sure that wasn't the better option in this particular situation. A life on the run might be better than no life at all...

This thought process flashed through her mind in microseconds, and in a few more, a plan of attack. Everyone would be wiped out — she would make sure it cost the company much more than her fee. Now there was interest to pay. Every one of these soldiers would be under orders to take out the entire room. They wouldn't leave any room for any story other than the one its PR team constructed. Everyone reading the morning news or watching their holovision sets would walk away believing Company peacekeepers stpped a group of insurgents.

An insurgence was exactly what she intended to give them.

"Can you fight," she asked, sliding her foot into a Qu'a point. Rex began to feel healing waves of energy flooding his battered body.

"Good enough for them," he grunted, feeling wave after wave course through his body. The waves of Qu'a flooded through the meridian in her toe, and it took only moments to feel his lifeforce, which hung in the balance only seconds ago, flood back into his battered body.

"Not enough time to heal you completely," she said, looking down at him. She winked. "Maybe later."

"Look forward to it," Rex said. He started to rise, then realized he might have an advantage if they still thought he couldn't move.

"You have no idea," the assassin said, giving him a smile with warmth she hadn't felt in some time. Rex felt the same, and it had been perhaps longer since he'd flirted with a woman.

The lead soldier put his hand to his ear, touching an imperceptibly small button. The assassin deduced that the soldiers had been awaiting orders in light of the surprise. She knew it wouldn't be good news for them.

"You can follow my lead, right?" She asked, still surveying the group of soldiers as they prepared their weapons and the assassin's gaze found the main line controlling lights in the room. She inched a small dart out of an hidden seam in her pant leg, so subtly even Rex almost didn't see it.

"Full of surprises, huh?" Rex grinned.

"You can't begin to imagine," she grinned back.

The lead mercenary gave the hand signal to ready their ROUs, but before any of the soldiers began to react, the small dart flew invisibly fast through the room, past two docked ships, and severed the jugular of the line supplying power to the lights. A spark flew out of one of the light fixtures, briefly strobing the launch bay with a brief flash, then darkness.

Porter flew toward Isellia, sending the two sprawling to the ground. There they lay in total darkness, unable to see what transpired. If they had, they might have witnessed a fluid performance worthy of a ballet holo-recording: Rex and the assassin moved in near-perfect harmony, the latter slowing every so often so Rex could keep up in his battered state. The two moved in and out with each other, nearly sharing a conscious that transcended individuality as the two made short work of the mercenary group. A soldier grabbed for them and felt nothing. One punched and felt an irresistible force push through their arm. Another charged and flew 20 feet in the direction they intended to run. The duo became a black hole that sucked in attacks and spit out retreats.

A silence pervaded the bay after the last mercenary landed in a bone crunching heap much farther down the launch bay than he intended. No one moved, or said a word, save for the sound of the ship roaring to life — Stephen smartly fired up the engines during the skirmish.

The ship's various lights charged the room with green and red glow, casting a sinister and changing tint to the once brightly lit docking bay. Porter and Isellia, now on their feet and somewhat bewildered, saw Rex leaning against the assassin, the woman who'd only moments earlier beat him nearly senseless, and who'd moments after that, indebted to her all of their lives.

"Come on," the assassin said, supporting most of Rex's weight as she walked past Isellia and Porter and started up the embarkment ramp. "There'll be more soon. We would do well to make haste."

Porter grabbed Isellia on one arm and Joey on the other.

"You heard the lady," Porter said, hoisting them toward the ship.

"What the hell!?" Isellia shouted to no one in particular, shaking her head.

"We'll sort it out later," Porter said. "Run ahead and get behind the controls."

Isellia looked to Porter, then the assassin, then back to Porter. "Whatever," she said, shaking her head, shrugging out of his grasp.

The assassin carefully set Rex down on the floor of the ship inside the decompression chamber, then peered through the hatch as more soldiers filed into the docking bay.

"As I thought," the assassin said. "We'll be long gone before they get back to their ship."

The assassin turned to look at the others, who looked at her with wide eyes, unsure what to think. She paid little attention as she crouched down to check on Rex.

"Nice marriage ribbon," she said to Joey as she looked up from Rex.

"Nice what?!" He said, looking at the ribbon as if he'd just noticed it.

***

Joey's hand rested on the vinyl control stick, moving it with a certain expertise he didn't posses several days ago. The chair felt comfortable and familiar to him now. The vinyl control stick moved under his hand predictably and comfortably, and he was becoming at ease with the way its movement transferred to movement in space. Soon they would be far enough into empty cosmos where auto-pilot would cruise them the rest of the way to the coordinates he'd entered, only altering when the ship's sensors detected asteroid remnants.

Though at ease amongst the controls, his mind wasn't at ease at that particular moment. No one had said a word since they'd left the Sasugan port. The doors leading outside the station shut down in lockdown mode in response to the violence, and required some clever hot-wiring on the part of Porter, with some assistance from the robot. The robot's programming allowed them to bypass some of the station's safety protocols so they could make their escape. They didn't exactly want to hang around, after all, and explain what had happened. And they didn't feel like greeting the reinforcements which were undoubtedly on their way.

There was a tension in the room. Nobody quite had a full understanding of what exactly had just happened, or what was going to happen for that matter. Isellia stared into one of the side terminals, transfixed on whatever she was reading on the buzz, tapping a touch button with her finger every so often to move the page. Porter sat back in his chair (Isellia laughed whenever he called it the "captain's chair"), arms folded behind his head. His face held a deep concentration, appearing like someone who really wasn't sure what to do next. Joey had a child's faith that he must have some idea and would give them all direction.

The bay doors opened, startling everyone from their quiet reverie. Everyone turned as Rex walked in. He looked strangely satisfied in a way no one had seen in him before. He ignored their stares, which implored some explanation from him, as he sat down gracefully on a chair opposite of Isellia.

"Where is our 'guest?'" Porter asked Rex, who looked into the viewscreen.

"Aft side quarters," he said. "Seemed like as good a place as any."

"And why is she our guest?" Isellia demanded, crossing her arms in an effort to hide her apprehension. "I don't remember inviting her!"

"I don't remember that being your call," Porter said, looking at her with a little less patience than usual.

Isellia sulked at his retort. "Don't remember you inviting her either," she said under her breath.

"She saved my life," Rex said, not taking his eyes off the viewscreen. "All of our lives."

"Yeah," Isellia said, "after she beat the plasma out of you."

Porter looked at her neutrally. "Well, she does have a point," he said, turning his stare to Rex.

Isellia was the only one who spoke it, but everyone had been thinking it. They'd seen Rex fight — no, what he did went beyond fighting. Someone that could throw him like a rag doll scared the "plasma" out of all of them.

"Nothing to worry about," Rex said, seeming to grow agitated at the interrogation.

"Nothing to — are you serious?" Isellia looked at Porter incredulously.

Rex turned to look at her. "Well, not much we can do now. She's here. That's that."

The direct look put Isellia off balance, and she couldn't talk for a moment.

"He's right. Not much between us and our coordinates. And we certainly aren't going back." Porter folded his hands in front of him. "And I don't think we're in much of a position to tell her to do anything."

"I'm not afraid of her," Isellia said, with such little conviction even she didn't believe herself.

Rex looked over at her. "You should be."

***

Isellia left the bridge. She hadn't had much to say after Rex had finished speaking, and just turned and walked away. She had an excuse — the plasma intake manifold needed an overhaul, and Stephen wouldn't know the ship well enough to do it. The truth is, it could probably wait another six months, but it provided Isellia a convenient way of avoiding human contact for awhile.

Everyone was silent on the bridge, only interrupted by the beeps, buzzes and whirring noises that after a time drifted into so much background noise, so that only when the ship stopped and docked, and powered down for re-energizing, did it suddenly become apparent what true silence was.

But the silence Joey experienced now overflowed with a tension that made him rather uncomfortable. Porter sat at his terminal, intensely concentrating on whatever information he was perusing on its screen. His gaze focused on the viewscreen, but Joey guessed his real attention was far from anything on the bridge or in front of the ship in space. It was the same look he often got himself, and he found he could see it in others, that distant gaze one gets when the mind is elsewhere.

If Porter was wondering how to broach the subject in order to find out more about his strange new passenger, Rex saved him the trouble.

"Name's Celia, by the way," Rex said. His eyes never left the viewscreen, and he still appeared unconcerned about his general whereabouts.

"That so," Porter said, also appearing uninterested. It was only Joey who looked up with interest.

"Are you friends with her?" Joey asked. Porter looked up at Joey and, despite his attempts to carry a stern countenance, couldn't help but smirk a little.

"Something like that," Rex said, just the shadow of a smile passing over his lips.

Joey looked back and forth between the two, now not sure how to react. He hadn't realized he'd said anything funny.

Suddenly Rex dropped his gaze on the view screen and turned to face Joey directly, his elbow resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. Joey's eyes widened with surprise and interest.

"You ever heard of the mountains of Yo?" He looked right at Joey directly, not blinking or changing his gaze.

Joey said nothing, but shook his head. Porter's eyebrow raised.

"The mountains of Yo? You're not saying you're a—"

Porter could only gape in surprise as Rex pulled up his off-white, long-sleeved shirt. A dragon twisted around itself and crawled up his right abdomen, as if the tattoo wanted to claw its way up through Rex's shoulder and feed off his head. Joey stared in amazement, and Porter looked taken aback. The tattoo was black, but shone in a red or gold, depending on how the light hit it.

He put the shirt back down and relaxed in his chair.

"The Yuzara..." was all Porter could say.

"Some of the most severe training the human body could possibly endure," Rex said, sitting back.

"And there's two of you..." Porter muttered.

"There were half a dozen times I thought I was dead. Because I nearly was."

"...On board my ship."

"She went through everything I did. Guessing she was some kind of podigy."

Joey sat in fascination. It didn't take much, the mention of a possibly legendary training place and a mysterious tattoo that seemed to come alive to look at it — the cool threshold was thoroughly reached and surpassed.

"Wait a minute, wait," Porter said, shaking his head. "I thought that was all a legend. Things people tell their children. A fairy tale."

"That look like a fairy tale to you?" Rex said, resuming his careless attitude.

"I guess not."

"Look, I'm just telling you 'cause you want to know about her. That's all. Figure you want to know your passengers before you accept them."

"Like I have a choice?" Porter said, slumped in his chair. "Can't exactly kick her off, can I?"

"Why would you? More passengers mean more money. No math expert—"

"The dead can't spend money," Porter said.

"She took a different path than me. There are several. But understand. You're either her target, or you're not. And now, you're not. She won't kill anyone she's not paid to, and once she's left a mark it's left — there's no going back. In fact, the ones who canceled her mark are really in for it — she'll protect you just to spite them. At least that's what I think she's up to."

"You don't know?" Porter asked.

Rex said nothing, but continued staring at the viewscreen.

There was a quiet for a while, as the tension felt previously began to set in again.

"Is this really a marriage ribbon?" Joey finally asked, breaking the silence.

***

Stephen gave the ship's engines one last listen, double-checking the levels on each of the dials and gauges, occasionally grabbing a wrench to make a quarter turn adjustment. Modern ships, even one as old as theirs, were controlled by micro-chips that required someone knowledgable with computer functions. That was the role the robot served.

But the ship's engine was different. It was old, mechanical, and the ship's computer systems had to work around it to interface with it. To Stephen it was a living, breathing system, a beast with a temperament.

So he listened to the beast, putting his hand on a rusty piece of chassis as a turbine hummed under his palm, buzzing his hand in just the right way. An engine could tell you a lot by the sounds it makes... if you take the time to listen.

In the company, he'd generally not been allowed near any section related to engineering, even though he clearly demonstrated an aptitude for the line of work — that privilege was reserved for the management class, many who inherited the job, in lieu of any actual ability. Some of them were talented, granted, such as Mr. Billson. Billson would take Stephen into boiler rooms with him, off the job, teaching him what he knew and learning from him as well.

Stephen still had a stack of engineering books on the shelf above his bunk when Company C engineers entered his room one day, on a routine inspection. (He'd never heard of routine inspections of private quarters.)

During an inquiry, they discovered the books belonged to Mr. Billson. His electronic signature were on them, embedded in the paper of the front page. After his confession to stealing them, he was re-assigned to the mines on After Mountain, where he would work for the rest of his career.

He smiled when he left, knowing he'd saved Mr. Billson a lot of trouble, not to mention his family. He didn't want Billson's kindness repaid with imprisonment for allowed Stephen to read books he wasn't authorized to read. Life in the mines was by no means easy, but it was less of a stretch from his old job than for an engineer like Billson. He regretted he wouldn't see him again.

For Stephen, then, the engine room represented something of a dream come true. He didn't take his responsibilities lightly, and in fact often overcompensated, triple checking levels and adjustments despite having no reason to believe they might have changed. For the first time in months he felt truly useful and part of something bigger than himself.

He left the engine room brimming with confidence, toppling over Isellia as he charged out of the room.

His confidence went out in search of its hiding place as he looked up at Isellia, who inspired a special smattering of stutter. 'S-s-sorry, I'm sorry! I wasn't watching —"

Stephen had been on the ship long enough to taste Isellia's legendary anger, but he received something different instead. "Whatever," was all Isellia said absently, barely paying him mind as she found her feet and moped her way down the hall. She was lost in thought, walking slowly and without purpose. Her posture slumped forward as she meandered down the hall.

He watched her go for a moment, then spoke up. "I-i-it's okay, you know."

Isellia stopped, as if suddenly being aware for the first time what she was doing. "What's okay?"

"What you're feeling." When Isellia turned toward him, he was no longer looking at her, but staring at the floor between his knees, a knowing expression on his face.

"How do you know what I'm feeling?" she asked, trying to sound angry but couldn't stop genuine curiosity leaking through in her voice.

"There's something about these people. Something different."

"Oh really, I hadn't noticed..." Isellia rolled her eyes. Stephen was silent a moment. Isellia dropped her sarcastic expression, looking at Stephen curiously. "OK, what do you mean? I mean, I think I know what you mean, but..."

"It's hard to explain. Have you noticed," Stephen looked up at her briefly before continuing his floor gaze. "Have you noticed when you're around them you feel sort of at ease, and frightened out of your wits at the same time?"

Isellia swallowed. Of course she'd noticed, but — she had just assumed it was infatuation. It confused her that Celia made her feel the same way.

"What does it mean?" Isellia asked, quiet and unsarcastic.

"I don't know," Stephen said. "But," he said, looking up at her. "I think they're going to lead us somewhere interesting."

***

"Set the coordinates for 134.1 mark 12-3, Joey." Porter sat in a chair beside him, while Joey sat at the controls, piloting the ship.

"Where are we going?" Joey asked.

"There's one last resupply station before we reach our destination. Stephen tells me we can make our coordinates from there, but it'll be tight. He's double checking to make sure we're running as efficiently as possible. We'll need it."

Joey's brow furrowed in thought. "Where are we going again?" he asked, after a brief pause.

Porter frowned a bit, as if the question bothered him as well. "I don't know."

There was a pause, filled only by the hum of the ship's engines.

"It's a job, it's paying. And I got money up front. That's enough for me. Go ahead then."

Joey's brow didn't unfurl. He entered the coordinates he was given, more expertly than a boy of his age should have been able to. Joey had a natural affinity, but excelled because he was given room to grow. Porter trusted him, and Joey responded to that trust. It didn't mean he wouldn't make mistakes — but when he did, he would learn from them, as he had with the landing gear.

He was only a boy, and his curiosity sometimes outweighed his foresight. "Can I ask a question?"

"Of course, you don't need permission."

Joey's face scrunched in thought as he searched for the right words.

"Are we," he began. "I mean, we transport cargo, right?"

"Yes," Porter nodded, wondering where he was going with his question.

"But sometimes, we don't... um, follow the rules, right?"

Porter nodded. "Yes, I guess you could put it that way."

Joey nodded to himself.

"Does that bother you, Joey?"

Joey shook his head. "No," he said. "I mean, my mom always talked about how the company rules were unfair anyway, I guess. Until the time was right to break them."

"You're mom was a wise woman. And very brave."

"Do you know what happened to her?" Joey asked.

Porter was silent. "You know I'm not supposed to tell you."

Joey nodded to himself.

"I can tell you I gave her my word that I would look after you. She wanted you far away from company attention."

"So I didn't have to work in the mines."

"Exactly. She wanted a better life for you." Porter chuckled a little. "I'm not sure how much better this life is, but at least we live by our own rules. And you don't have to breathe in dust from a mine every day."

"Yeah, and I get to keep the robot!"

Porter laughed a little, more the release of tension from the crew's earlier entanglement than at what Joey said. "Yeah, that's right."

***

Joey squinted in the desert at dusk at the small figure hunched over on the horizon. He stopped every so often to see if he could make out what it was, then walked a little closer.

The sun had long since disappeared over the horizon, the sky turned a dark blue that faded into black behind him, and the first stars began to appear against the backdrop of night.

The toolbox Joey carried grew heavy under his arm, and it began to drag against his side, clanking with each step. He'd spent the day with Mr. Twitters, who a few weeks past had gifted him with his own set of tools. He carried them proudly back and forth, always careful to avoid the Company C patrol routes — he always left past curfew and they might not take kindly to his tool set and question where he got it. By now he knew his part of the colony mining planet quite well.

He'd been thinking of things to fix in the pod he lived in with his mother — it would save her a lot of trouble if he could help out more around the house. She came home from the mine every day at dusk, exhausted with a cough that seemed to be growing worse. Joey had seen it in many of the workers from the mines. He'd never seen an elderly worker, and assumed they got to leave after they reached a certain age. He was starting to grow old enough to figure out the real reason why there weren't many older workers.

He finally got close enough to see the figure, now slumped in the cool desert sand. It was indeed a robot, something he dreamed about working on since long before he'd visited Mr. Twitters' shop. A chill of anticipation tingled over his body. He approached it cautiously, inspecting it in the ever dimming light.

"Hello, Mr. Robot," Joey said, looking into its cranial unit. It appeared to have run out of oil.

"Threat... imminent. Must... protect," the robot muttered in its transistor radio voice.

"Don't worry, Mr. Robot," Joey said, digging into his toolbox. "I'm not a threat. I'm your friend."

"Friend?" The robot struggled to move, reaching for its ROU. "Does not compute. Need...more info..."

"I'm Joey, Mr. Robot. I'm gonna fix your legs at least, so you can move. Then maybe we can get the rest of you working."

"Joey... will fix?"

"Yep!" Joey started oiling the robot's joints, cleaning sand out. "You belong to Company C?"

The green light on the robot's LED flashed furiously, a green line changing shape and direction.

"Company C... Must be... destroyed."

The robot's reaction surprised Joey, but then he smiled. "I don't like Company C either. They make my mom work in the mines. She's getting sick. It's all their fault.

"Joey will... destroy Company C?"

Joey laughed. "I don't know about that. But I sure don't like them. Alright, let's see if you can walk."

The robot stood, able to walk although its upper half was still frozen stiff.

"I know where we can hide you for now. I won't let Company C get you! Let's go, I think a patrol might be coming."

The robot followed the young boy as he lugged his toolbox behind him. "Joey = friend?"

***

Isellia nearly reached the sanctuary of her quarters when she saw the assassin walking toward her. She seemed to be headed purposefully toward her, not just coincidentally passing her in the hall. Isellia did not like this; she did not like her, and made no effort to hide this fact.

"Hey," the assassin said to her, "mind if we talk a bit." She reached out for Isellia's arm.

"Don't touch me!" Isellia yelled, back-handing her hand away with a fierce look. Celia let her do this, though she could easily have avoided the blow. Had she wanted to, Celia could have grabbed her, and there wouldn't have been anything Isellia could do about it. Isellia knew this, having seen her in the docking bay, and that didn't do much to improve her opinion of her.

Instead, Celia smiled warmly, angering Isellia even more. Isellia didn't know who this woman was and she didn't much care if Rex trusted her — she did not.

"I understand how you feel," she said, staring deeply into Isellia's eyes.

A phrase along the lines of "You don't understand squat" crossed her mind, but the words died in her throat. The intensity of Celia's gaze went straight through her, felt like it penetrated to her soul. She felt like the woman reached deep into her. For a moment, she nearly allowed herself to open to her, to drop her wall of protection.

Isellia wasn't one to be confused about her emotions — she usually knew exactly where everything stood with her and her reactions were swift. But she stood in front of Celia with no idea how to react, or any understanding of what was going on inside her. Isellia was left with the impression she was dealing with something — someone — out of her league.

She finally shrugged away, shaking her head as if coming out of a trance.

"You — you don't understand anything," Isellia said more weakly than she intended, holding her head.

Celia only smiled, a smile that revealed she understood more than Isellia wanted her to. She appeared calm and in complete control, the exact opposite of Isellia. Celia loomed like an impenetrable wall, both emotionally and physically.

"You don't like me," Celia said. "I get it. But since we're headed in the same direction, why don't we try to get along?" Celia held out a hand in the old Earth custom.

Isellia stared blankly at the hand, as if lost in thought. Her expression went from blank to anger, however, and she raised her eyes to Celia, batting the hand away once again.

"Just stay away from me!" she yelled, stomping off to her quarters. "If you hurt him again, I'll kill you!" She slammed the door to her quarters shut, the noise resonating her empty threat throughout the hall with a metal clang.

***

Underow signed the papers with little regard for their deadly consequences. To him, it was one more piece of business. To those named in the papers, however, it meant their execution.

The papers, translucent with a deep red ink, were quickly inserted in a black slot on his desk, disappearing into it with a digital sparkle. They would re-appear at their recipient's desk in much the same manner. Underow thought nothing else of docscan as he continued to toil under the moonlight shining through his office/home's window. Underow rarely slept and rarely stopped working. It wouldn't have occurred to him to stop, even if he were able. For Underow, work was existence. He wouldn't have known what to do with himself if he had a day free of duty.

A small window popped out from the screen on which he furiously calculated expense reports — mostly cost differentials involving the failed assassination attempt. The instant holomessage stopped his typing immediately and hovered in front of his screen. He paused, folding his hands on his lap. The message was from the top.

No one ever actually saw anyone from "the top." Orders came down from the top via messages, electronic mail, carrier (large black birds that, legend said, never actually died or were born), or instant messages such as the one Underow had just received.

The latter communication was particularly troublesome, because one false slip could delete them. Underow recalled a man he had entered Company C with who was fired and never heard from him again. When someone was fired, no one was ever told why, their desk just sat empty as if they had never existed. In his case, it appeared that literally was the case. Rumors spread that he'd deleted a message from the top, but Underow wasn't sure. But he had no desire to confirm or deny those doubts for himself.

"Is it done?" A black figure, undistinguishable, appeared in the window, with these words underneath.

Underow sweated a little — what little emotion Underow was capable of, fear was amongst the strongest and most prevalent. "No. Our mission was delayed by unexpected setbacks," he typed. Sweat pooled on his temple to see the words on the screen. It took all of the little will-power he had to press enter.

"The assassin?"

...

"Has turned into a liability."

...

"Must leave no loose ends."

...

"I'll see to it."

...

"Termination is acceptable. Entire party if necessary, save the target."

...

"Understood."

...

...

Underow sweated, afraid to ask but compelled to nonetheless. "Am I to take responsibility for their escape?"

...

...

...

"The price has been paid. The attacking soldiers have been downsized."

...

"Orders from above?" Underow typed with relief. It was a victory of survival.

...

"Indeed. The CEO is most displeased."

...

Underow's sweat turned cold, a tingling sensation washing over his head as his nerves tingled with fear. "The CEO is involved?"

...

"Computer analysis demonstrates the combination to be a severe threat. The CEO himself is concerned."

...

Underow didn't realize that the problem went that far up the chain. This would be a chance to make or break his career. He might jump a whole decade of levels. Or crash to the basement. "I'll prioritize their capture."

...

"That would be prudent. Company C only has room for team players. And teams only have room for valuable players. Be sure you remain valuable." The window disappeared almost immediately after the message was typed; he barely had time to read it.

Underow wasted no time contemplating the implications of the last statement. The target would be captured at all cost. He did not want to have to "take responsibility" if they weren't.

***

Rex's ears perked up only slightly at the creak of the metal door to his quarters opening; the ever-so-slight click of the assassin's black stilettos navigating the narrow corridor reached his ears, growing almost imperceptibly louder as they had approached the doorway. No one else on the ship would have heard their slight tap had they been standing behind her, and had she desired it, Rex wouldn't have heard it either. But Celia wanted Rex to know she was coming.

"Busy?" she asked, leaning against the door. She still wore her black, tight assassin's outfit, which both accentuated her well-toned figure and rendered it sleek and deadly. It caught on nothing and made no noise. It's tightness served a functional purpose — but it had other affects as well, which Celia wasn't above exploiting. None of which went unnoticed by Rex.

"Nope," Rex said, reclining on his bunk with his hands casually cradling the back of his head. The room was sparse, save for a small duffle propped between the bunk and the hard metal floor. "Thought training wasn't for another hour."

"It's not," she said, slinking gracefully into the room. The black fabric hugged her form in a way that accented every movement she made, fettishizing her body's mechanics. Rex, generally aloof to the opposite sex, felt his eyes instinctually drawn to her and something inside him stirred. "I had...another activity in mind," she purred

As she said this, he noticed her black-gloved finger rise to her ear, slowly tracing a circle around her lobe. He immediately recognized the signal for what it was, and started to loosen his calm to a wave of nervous excitement and anticipation like remembering something long forgotten, brought back into immediate memory. He almost forgot to respond in kind, quickly cupping his hand over his ear to initiate the sexual challenge.

The assassin grinned slightly, which he saw as she stood facing away from him, stretching her whole body out in one continuous motion.

Then in a flash, it was on. Both figures moved impossibly fast, engaged in a battle in which the only outcome possible was both of them winning. Rex almost immediately felt himself falling behind, just as he had in the Sasugan landing bay. He tried with all his heart and mind, fighting in honesty to keep up with the flow that was ever growing in her favor. Eventually, he would fall. Eventually, he would win. They both would, in this carnal contest.

His senses were sharper than the last time they battled, and this time he felt the moment she gained the advantage. As he went to the floor, he was able to roll with the fall and use the floor as a cradle. Coupled with added gentleness on her part, Rex dropped to the thin, worn carpet of his quarters much more softly than he had the shiny metal floor of the launch bay.

She was on him in an instant, pinning his hands behind his head as her lithe body leaned over him, knees straddling either side of his chest. Her chest pressed into his as she leaned her face to his ears, whispering, "We win" as she licked his ear with her soft tongue.

Rex's anticipation hardened as he felt inclined to agree. She stripped off his shirt, revealing his sinewy, chiseled muscles. He looked down, at the scar that crossed his chest, then up at her — she seemed to pay it no mind. He longed to caress her body but lay pinned, his naked back pressed against the thin carpet, allowing himself to enjoy the domination.

Still pinning Rex to the floor, she adeptly grasped the previously unseen zipper to her outfit, smoothly unzipping it in one graceful motion. In a few twist and turns, impossibly skilled and swift, and she was left in nothing but her boots. Rex could only gaze in wonder and admiration; He'd never seen a more beautiful woman in his life — nor one as strong — and for someone who paid little mind to the opposite sex, he felt himself filled with desire at the combination.

Rex soon found himself in a similar state of undress, feeling a cathartic liberation through his bondage to this mistress, submitting to the waves of sexual energy she teased out of him, teased into him, shared between them. The separation of gender dissipated as they merged into a single entity; the ship, the crew, the universe revolving around them for a moment in time, the conclusion of a game neither could lose, completed only in the mutual expulsion of their sexual energy.

***

"He'll be coming in a few minutes," the woman in a dusty mining suit said to Porter. They stood in front of the cargo ship, a slight breeze blowing her dark brown locks in front of her face occasionally.

"I don't like this. I know Isellia is a teenager, but I didn't exactly have in mind a 12-year-old when I said I wanted more crew members."

The woman brushed her long brown hair back from her temples. She looked over her shoulder, as the desert sun set on the horizon. "I didn't exactly have sending my son along with a bunch of smugglers in mind either. But here we are."

"Cargo transporters."

"Uh-huh," the woman said. "Look, most crew members don't come with a little bonus money either. He's very bright, somewhere in that head of his. He might seem a little doofy on the outside, but... trust me, he'll be fixing your ship more than you before long."

The woman broke into a coughing fit, nearly doubling herself over from her heaving. Porter raised his eyebrows, not sure if he should offer some kind of help. She was beautiful; or at least, she had been at one point, before years of hard labor. Her eyes still shined brightly, despite the toll that long days had taken on her body. He reached out a hand but she stood up.

"Look, here's the money, just take—"

"Put that away."

"Look he's a good kid—"

"I'll take the kid. Joey, was it? Just put the money away."

The woman's face lit up briefly at this, a smile through a face worn down by years of hard labor. She smiled, patting him on the chest a couple of times.

"You could come too. We're awfully short on bodies."

She coughed a bit more, then shook her head. "Nah, I got unfinished business here. Just get my boy away from... this."

She moved in closer to him, putting her hand on his chest again. Her eyes were even more beautiful up close. "Promise me."

Porter said nothing, but nodded. She looked into his eyes for a moment, almost as if searching for something, then decided she was satisfied. She walked away without another word.

## Chapter 2

Stephen sat outside the cave, eating his lunch as he usually did, alone. He didn't mind. It was a warm day on the colony, the breeze gently blew his thin, light brown hair and some of the dust off his face and clothes, and he couldn't help but smile.

He popped open his lunch capsule, provided by the company. He dropped it off at the end of his shift, into a slot where all the other miners put their capsules, and picked them up before entering the mine for the day. One didn't dare forget theirs - it meant you went hungry for the day, or ate emergency slime — their word for it — a goo with essential nutrition but largely unpalatable. Stephen never forgot his.

He took a bite of his nutro-bar, looked across the horizon, and noticed Company C managers walking with someone. New recruit, most likely, he thought. Stephen normally liked to spend the 15 minutes he was afforded for lunch taking in as much nature as he could while he ate; but today, he watched the managers bring this new recruit.

He wasn't sure what kind of person he would be, but as they drew the man closer, he noticed a restraining bracelet on his left ankle. People came to work for Company C one of two ways: Either they were in financial difficulties, or took the work as plea bargain for some crime. Stephen quickly deduced which category this new worker fell into.

He was tall, lanky with long, dark hair that hung in his face. His frame looked sinewy, strong, grizzled. He looked like someone Stephen should stay away from - but then he stayed away from most people in the mine.

Most workers in the mine were far too tired to bother anyone, unless a target presented itself. A few of the newer workers, not yet worn from years of hard labor, territorially made their way to the new recruit as soon as the managers left him.

Stephen's heart rate increased as he watched them approach. The man didn't seem to react, hardly paid them any mind. He was too far away to hear, but it seemed one of the workers was talking very close to Rex, likely threateningly, with two friends close by. Stephen blinked. He couldn't see what happened, but the man suddenly winced in pain, grabbing his hand. He could hear his shouts, and the man glanced a quick look at the other two who scurried off behind the aggressor. The new recuit looked bored, like he had just thrown something in a trash can. His attackers barely registered as an inconvenience.

Stephen watched him as he took his assigned capsule, removing the contents to eat. Then the man looked up at him, directly at him, staring. Stephen immediately looked away, his heart racing. Would the man hurt him, too? He hadn't done anything. Curse his curiosity.

When he looked up the man was gone.

***

"We need passage," Rex said calmly, his ROU never wavering in the slightest from the robot's cranial casing. Stephen stood behind him, wavering in every way possible.

"You got a funny way of asking a favor," Porter said, his gaze calm and direct. "You could have asked without pointing an ROU at us."

Rex was silent a moment, as if considering his argument. He shrugged. "Can never be too sure."

Porter sighed. "Well, I can't argue with that." He looked pointedly at the ROU. "Literally, I suppose."

Stephen stepped ever so slightly out of the shadow of Rex, as if he were about to speak. Porter noticed.

"Go on, if you have something to say," Porter said, nodding past the lanky man with the ROU.

Stephen gulped, as if he were unsure about saying anything at all and regretted drawing any attention to himself in the first place. He took a breath, seeming to steady himself a bit, before speaking.

"He...uh, we don't... don't mean any harm, I mean..." he trailed off, staring down at the gang plank between the two parties as he spoke. His voice was meek and raspy, and rang oddly in the echo of the entrance portal.

"Really?" Porter said, again pointedly looking at the ROU. "Could have fooled me," he said gravely.

"No, he don't—" Stephen started loudly, before the loudness of his own voice startled him. "I mean, we, we're just looking for help is all." He looked behind him, to the dying cargo vessel. "This ship won't make it far enough. We'd be stuck out here in space. It... there ain't much else we can do."

Rex raised his eyebrows at this ever so slightly.

"You know help beacons are that for a reason," Porter said. "When people start violating them, they lose their meaning. People won't stop for them anymore. We almost didn't."

"Present action is ineffective," the robot stated. "Altercation will result in invader's death."

Rex's eyebrow perked "That so?" he said, without inflection.

"Robot is faster."

Stephen gasped, looking positively terrified, but Rex only flashed a nearly imperceptible grin. "Don't count on it."

Porter rolled his eyes. "OK, enough of this. Look, why don't you tell me where you're headed?"

Rex's eyes never left the robot. "Gamma quadrant, co-ordinates 123.452." Stephen nodded at this. "Don't ask why."

"I don't make a habit of it." Porter rubbed his chin for a moment. "It's a little beyond our usual range, but I think we can make it. You got money?"

Rex looked at Stephen momentarily. "W-w-we can pay," Stephen said.

Porter nodded. "Fine, we'll take you on. Two conditions."

"Conditions?"

Porter took a step toward Rex. "One, you holster that ROU, right now, and it doesn't leave your holster until you leave. Second, we get salvage rights on that cargo ship. That's a Kuunan class cargo vessel, I'm not mistaken."

Rex looked back quickly, still on guard. "Might be."

"You won't need it. You let us salvage what we want from the cargo, for spare parts. I'll even give you fifty-fifty on what we sell. I don't think you can say no to that."

"I-It's got a full complement of food, too," Stephen offered, somewhat more relaxed.

Rex looked at Stephen out of his peripheral vision, not really seeking an opinion so much as searching his face for the right answer. Finally he seemed to relax, no longer a cat poised to action. Rex holstered the weapon, cleanly and smoothly, never taking his eyes off the robot or Porter.

"Robot, yours too." The robot, which still held the weapon at its side, holstered its ROU with mechanical precision. "This way," Porter motioned.

Porter led Stephen, following Rex. Rex eyed the robot as he passed it, eyes narrowing and his mouth forming the slightest of challenging grins.

***

Stepping out from behind the corner of the main building, the guards squinted in the fog to make out the man standing with his back to them. He stood motionless in the din of twilight, an early evening wind blowing his ear-length dark hair around his dark face.

As they approached the motionless figure, they noticed for the first time the heap at his feet — a human crumpled in its final resting place. One of the guards snapped to attention, fumbling with his holster as he quickened his pace toward the man. "Don't move!" he shouted, fumbling the ROU out of its holster.

Rex turned, as if noticing the nervous guards for the first time. As he turned, they saw the blank expression on his face, a look of utter unconcern, as if he were concentrating on something far in the distance. His look seemed to extend past them, as if they were no different than the pebbles at their feet. When he looked at them, the guards felt like they were already dead.

As he turned, they also noticed the ROU in his hand for the first time.

"Drop it! Drop the weapon!" The first guard to react shouted, as the second fumbled to unholster his weapon. The first guard stood about ten feet away from Rex, excitement with a mixture of adrenaline coursing through the man's veins, heart drumming fast. Rex regarded them with no concern.

Both guards trained their guns on Rex, as he took one sidelong glance at the fallen figure at his feet. He turned back toward the guards.

The ROU dropped to the ground, as he continued to stare off into the cold, red distance, a single drop of moisture rolling down his unshaved chin.

***

Isellia adjusted her position for what must have been the 10th time, squirming in her seat with boredom. She let out of sigh, blowing the bangs away from the front of her face, her head resting on her hand and a pout on her lips.

"Augh, I can't take it anymore," she said, ripping off her headset and spinning in her chair. The metal headset landed with a clatter as she twirled and twirled, her head thrown back over her chair, pink bangs dangling down the side of the leather seat, twirling in the centrifugal force, her mind becoming blank as she spun.

"Oh, the hell with it," she said, jumping out of the cockpit chair as it continued to spin. "If I'm just going to sit here on standby, I might as well get some work done on my XR." She hit the button behind the chair, which released the bottom cockpit hatch, and jumped down through it, landing lithely on the metal base below.

"They won't know if I grab a quick drink," she said, stretching her arms above her.

She left the hanger and was halfway down the hallway when she heard footsteps coming in the opposite direction. She paused a moment, hearing the heavy clank of the robot, the dull thud of Porter and at least two more sets of footsteps that she didn't recognize. After more than two years on the ship, she couldn't help but memorize the footsteps of everyone — including the crew members who were no longer with them.

"Ah, shit. If Porter finds me, I'll have to sit through one of his windbag lectures," she said, searching for a hiding place.

Her pink locks disappeared behind the wall of the service bay hatch just as Porter, followed by two strange men — one tall, lanky, athletic, the other small, gangly, timid — marched around the corner, the robot behind them all. Her suit ruffled noisily against the metal hatch as she adjusted herself to the small space, but the robot's steps effectively masked any noise she made.

"Thanks, metal nuts," she giggled under her breath.

Isellia stuck her tongue out at Porter mockingly as he passed. Her tongue was still protruded her lips when Rex walked by. She froze, eyes widening with curiosity, her small pink tongue stuck between her lips.

She nearly lost the balance of her crouch and had to catch herself. Her face reddened ever so slightly as the robot and Stephen walked past.

She took a minute to regain her senses, and leaned her head out into the hallway to get one last look. As she strained to peer around the corner of the service hatch, the door closed behind the robot.

As the door began to close, Isellia, already teetering on the edge of balance, finally lost it, spilling out into the corridor with a thud. "Shit!" she yelled breathlessly, falling to the metalfloor. She let out a short girlish yelp before her back landed flat on the floor.

She lay there for a moment, catching her breath. She couldn't help but wince about an old saying about the pain of love, or something like that.

***

A group of workers on the colony — the ones who often terrorized Stephen — surrounded him outside the mine, pinning him in a corner around the side of the entrance so the guards couldn't see them. Fighting was inefficient and a waste of manpower, and any Company manager would have stopped the fight for that reason. Certainly not for any concern of Stephen's welfare, but out of concern for his work output.

Stephen grunted as one of the men, known as Lar, shoved him against the side of the rock wall. "Don't you know the order of things yet?" Lar looked tired; they all did, having worked in the mine all day. But some things just needed to be addressed, they'd decided.

"We're trying to teach that newb where his place is. Can't have no 'surection here from some upstart."

"That's insurrection," Stephen muttered.

"You say something?" Lar grabbed Stephen by the shirt collar.

"N-n-nothing," Stephen muttered.

"You told the newb where to find his lunch. Now he didn't learn him his lesson. So now you learn the lesson."

"Never was one for learning," a voice behind the group said. They all whirled around to see Rex standing with his arms crossed.

"Hey you, maybe you get your lesson after all." Lar shoved Stephen against the wall, dropping him to the ground. He leaned against the wall, watching Rex.

Rex snorted derisively. "Don't you dare bore me."

Lars nostrils flared at this. He charged at Rex, running at him with as much speed as he could muster in the short distance.

He lunged for Rex but found nothing but air, and stumbled to the ground, tripping over his own momentum. Rex had hardly moved; just enough to catch the man's balance.

The others watched a moment, then were on Rex with abandon. Stephen nearly lost sight of Rex as he weaved between attackers, seeming not to even touch a single one with his hands. Some got a nudge with his hip, others a little tap with his foot. Soon the half dozen men lay on the ground, moaning and grabbing sore body parts.

"Didn't have to use my hands. Boring. I should kill you all for that."

Lars looked around at them. "I ain't paid enough for this, let's get outta here, guys!"

Rex ignored the fleeing workers, walking over to Stephen. He had no expression as he observed Stephen, almost as if he didn't know what to say; like he was confronted with an entirely new situation he didn't know how to respond to.

Rex gave Stephen the closest thing to a smile that perhaps had ever crossed his face, then Stephen watched him leave.

## Chapter 3

Joey snapped out of his spaceboredom as Porter, the robot and the two strangers entered the bridge. Joey was unaware of this particular phenomena, spaceboredom, common to space travelers traversing long voyages; the space dramas he'd seen when he could get access to holovision conveniently skipped over that aspect of the adventure. Staring mezmerized into the starry soup of space doesn't make the most entertaining holodrama.

Actual space travel didn't quite measure up to the serials he'd watched, with their exciting planets, weird space phenomena and exotic alien species. Frankly, if there was excitement, it was the knowledge that there wasn't a great deal of room for error; that each mistake could be your last; that only a thin line existed between safety and oblivion. Inside the ship was life. Outside was death.

But that was only an abstraction for Joey, whose young mind craved activity. And there wasn't much else for the boy to do. Porter already scolded him for tinkering with machinery while "on duty" — which for Joey is the only thing that holds his attention fully and completely for any significant length of time.

Thus, instead, Joey engaged in his usual activity while monitoring the gauges during the nearly two weeks they'd been traveling since leaving colony — head resting in hand, half-dazedly staring off into space, dreaming away — when the metal clank of the bridge's door came sliding open, with Porter, the robot and two strangers entering the cabin. Joey had to catch himself from falling out of his chair. The robot regarded him with something akin to curiosity.

***

The headset flashed and buzzed on top of the black vinyl chair, producing the sound of a dying duck as it inched slowly in a circle powered by its own vibration. The flashing blue light on the left earpiece blinked rapidly, casting a pale blue light on the cockpit screen. Isellia flew through the door, climbed to the cockpit and grabbed the buzzing earpiece just before it could fall off the black chair and onto the metal floor.

She snapped the piece onto her head, fitting the small black speakers into her ear as she slid her butt into the vinyl chair, immediately relaxing into a pose that suggested she had been sitting there all along, for hours on end, and was very bored.

She sighed to heighten the effect as she hit the blue flashing button, answering the call and silencing the buzz.

"Yeah Porter," she said in a practiced bored tone.

"You can come down now. The situation is clear."

"K," Isellia said, trying to sound like she wasn't dying for further information about the ship's newest passengers; one in particular.

"Yes. We have a couple new... guests. We should probably all get acquainted. Come down to the bridge"

"—Awrighty," Isellia said, thinking about the two men she'd seen a moment ago. Her hands involuntarily worked their way to her pink bangs, making almost unnoticeable adjustments. She became aware of what she was doing and stopped in embarrassment. Femininity wasn't a characteristic she particularly valued.

"What is wrong with me?" she said, shaking her head as she flipped the headset into the chair, jumped down from the cockpit and made her way to the bridge.

***

"What kind of work you guys do?" Rex asked. He surveyed the ship's bridge, seeming to take note of every control knob, every speck of dust. He stood calmly, as if the ship belonged to him and he belonged in the very place he stood. His face belied little emotion and his wiry frame, thin enough to look sickly if not for his apparent vitality and poised, ready-to-spring posture, seemed at once calm and full of kinetic potential. His presence was like a coil — either a snake ready to spring or a coil of rope, it was hard to tell which. He tended to make others around him uneasy.

"Whatever jobs we can find," Porter replied. "Mostly transport, for people looking to avoid company attention."

Stephen stood behind Rex, who continued to scan the room. Stephen was like a mouse to Rex's snake. Where Rex was calm and confident, Stephen was nervous and twitchy. His eyes darted around the room, often resting on the robot, of which he was particularly concerned following their initial meeting.

"Legal transport?" Rex asked flatly.

"Freelance." Porter said. Freelance meant unregistered. Which essentially meant illegal.

The two glared at each other silently, both their expressions stolid. Joey watched, feeling the tension growing between the two. Only experience could have told him that the real conversation had nothing to do with what was being said. Rex nodded ever so slightly, and the conversation appeared to be over.

"How long?" Rex asked.

"Long enough," Porter said. "We'll have to stop at Sasuga first, to resupply. Maybe sell some of those parts, if the price is right."

Rex very slightly grinned, and nodded. "Fine. Put Stephen in engineering. He's handy with an engine."

Porter looked at the nervous little man who seemed to always be standing behind Rex. "Is that so?" Porter asked him.

The man fidgeted a little, shrugging away the comment. "I don't know," he muttered, looking at the ground.

Rex looked back at him with a slight grimace. "He is," turning back to Porter. "Probably get two more parsecs out of this dinger."

Porter cringed at hearing his ship called a "dinger," but let it go.

"Sounds good to me," Porter shrugged. "We needed an engineer for awhile. Isellia's been doing double duty."

"Isellia?" Rex asked, seeming uninterested in the answer, when the bridge door opened.

Isellia had every intention of striding confidently onto the bridge — her bridge, as she saw it — but she stopped at the sight of Rex. She felt paralyzed by her infatuation. She struggled to say something, but only stood in the doorway, stammering.

"What, she mute or something?" Rex asked Porter, turning back to the viewscreen after regarding her a moment. Isellia was about to correct his observation when, not realizing she was still in the doorway, the bridge doors slid shut, pinching her right on her rear cheeks. She jumped up with a surprised yelp as they retracted at the touch of an obstacle.

Rex, for the first time since she'd entered, grinned slightly. "Guess not," he muttered. Isellia turned bright red at this, cursing their first encounter turned out so horribly. She then noticed the robot regarding her. "What!?" she asked it challengingly.

"Heart rate: increased. Stress level: increased. Standard operating parameters: Compromised — Isellia is malfunctioning."

Isellia's complexion turned a deeper shade of red, she shut her eyes in anger. "If you don't shut up right now, you obsolete, tin-plated excuse for a toaster oven —"

"So," Porter interrupted, eager to shift focus, "We'll be in the Sasuga port in a couple of days. I suggest you two get some rest, and then I'll show Stephen the engine room."

***

Isellia sat holding her temples, pink bangs dangling over her pink and gray gloves that matched her flight suit. She blew out a sigh through pouted lips, her lower lip jutting out just a little farther than it normally would. She glanced over at the robot, motionless in its usual place. Her eyes narrowed as she studied it, with its stupid blank expression, staring off into space, with no mind of its own.

Isellia realized that she often forgot the robot was a mere machine. She tended to think of the robot as an exceptionally dense genius — book smart and street stupid. An idiot savant that, at the very least, helped them interact with the ship's computer.

She remembered picking them up on the colony. Both paid their way, so to speak. The boy seemed a genius with wiring; the robot was able to recalibrate the ship's mainframe, boosting its power and overriding the safety lockouts that would have prevented them from getting the necessary power to leave the colony's atmosphere.

Neither Porter nor Isellia relished the thought of bringing the robot onboard. There was a penalty for carrying an unlicensed full-anatomical robot — which was much more expensive than the prohibitive license itself. The few left were owned mostly by Company C executives and other dignitaries. The penalty for harboring an unlicensed robot was "at Company C's discretion." Which meant your ass was grass, Wallace used to say.

Where the robots came from is something of a mystery. Popular legend says the robots were built from blueprints found in an abandoned factory on a plant long left vacant. Enough positronic brain material for 108 robots limited the robots the founders could make. Isellia remembered the official story in her schooling — that the robots and rights to the factory were sold to Company C in its early days. The owners were said to be made rich beyond imagination.

The company employed the robots to do its most dangerous and difficult tasks, the kinds most humans couldn't survive performing for too long. Top company leaders soon called for more of these robots. It never successfully built another. As much as Company C roboticists studied them (and the creators before them), no one could quite grasp the CPU Brain Module, as they called it, that powered these machines. The first one they tried to disassemble nearly blew up the entire facility, and would have, had one of the brighter roboticists on the team not been able to figure out a way to jettison it to the other side of the planet. But after using all the available technology on the base, the scientists came to one conclusion — the brain modules were produced somewhere other than the factory.

It was unfortunate for many that the scientists were unable to figure out how the robots' CPU Brain Module worked, because for many it would prove tragic. At first the newly assembled robots followed orders flawlessly, more efficient than thought possible, reports from the initial construction team said. But soon Company C inspectors noticed anomalies. Changes in the robots' behaviors. Every so often, one of them would simply stop following the orders it was given. As if it had suddenly changed its mind.

Then the first killing happened.

A particularly belligerent company inspector discovered a robot sitting in a spot where it was supposed to have been working. Used to dealing with workers under something more akin to a master/slave like relationship, the inspector began kicking the robot after his threats and insults went unheeded. The robot, obviously feeling no pain from the impact of the inspector's foot, seemed to disregard the situation completely, with its head lifted to the dark-red sky on the desolate mining planet. When the inspector leaned into the robot, it suddenly sprung to life, grasping the oxygen tubes hooking into his space suit and ripping them off with the disregard of a farmer pulling a weed.

The attack lasted less than a second, but its impact was long-lasting. Company C quickly developed a restraining bolt that could be activated upon notice of any unusual behavior in a robot. The bolt immediately restarted the robot's memory to the time it was first activated. Any robot without a bolt was considered dangerous, and to be avoided. So Isellia had learned in the classes she hadn't slept through.

So the fact that the robot which accompanied the young boy Joey seemed to be missing its bolt rarely went unnoticed; it certainly caught Isellia's attention.

While Porter dealt with the robot in his own way, treating it like a person that needs a little extra attention, Isellia took to insults. She treated the robot as a person too; in particular, one she didn't very well like.

Its annoyingly blunt observations grated Isellia's nerves. It brought to the surface all those unsaid, uncomfortable things and the particular thing the robot made everyone painfully aware of was her physiological reaction to the ship's newest passenger, something she wasn't entirely comfortable with herself. The robot essentially held a mirror to the emotions she tried to deny. She knew Porter found it all endlessly amusing — he seemed to take pleasure in challenging her rough exterior.

***

Isellia avoided Porter's gaze as she passed him in the ship's corridor leading from the bridge to the engine room. Her rare brush with feminine emotions left her with a feeling of vulnerability she didn't like; it nullified her tough exterior, exposing her in a way she wasn't ready for. Porter was a friend, sometimes a would-be confidant, but not in this. She couldn't afford to be feminine with an all-male crew.

She couldn't hide the feelings on her face, the embarrassment, as long as she walked the halls of the ship. Hiding in her quarters wasn't an option on such a small cruiser - with the limited staff there was always work to be done and few to do it. Isellia knew how to do most of them, and do them well. She had to. In space, mistakes cost lives.

There was no room for pithy feelings.

"Isellia," Porter said, stopping her in the hall. "Got a minute?"

Isellia let out a sigh before turning around to face him. She did her best attain an emotionally neutral expression that fooled exactly no one.

"Yes?" she said, in her best impression of a nonchalant voice.

Porter loomed near, and his face took on a sympathetic tone, though his voice remained stern. "We're going to be landing soon in Sasuga. I know you did a very thorough job with the overhaul after our last 'accident,' but I want to be sure the landing modules are operating perfectly. Would you go take a look for me?"

Isellia looked up into Porter's face, which belied no obvious understanding of her feelings. His orders didn't often come out as questions. "Sure," she muttered, searching his face for clues without trying to appear to be doing so.

"Great," Porter said. "Let me know when you're done."

Isellia started to turn away when Porter added, in a sterner voice that Isellia found more comforting, "Work quickly, Isellia. We'll be in Sasuga soon."

Porter couldn't see the resolve that found her face as she walked away, as she gave him the thumbs up sign.

***

Joey sat determinedly at a dusty workbench, desperately trying to fit a nano-switch into a RX socket that it just didn't seem destined to occupy. The workbench sat amidst a clutter of tools, mechanical parts, boxes of items and other junk collected by its owner, who sat nearby him. Light wafted in from a window somewhere behind dusty boxes of used servos.

The old man sat at his bench (Joey had been awarded his very own workstation after much hard work) across the cluttered workshop, managing to observe the young man through his wire-framed glasses without ever looking up. His face held both the sparkle of youthful curiosity and the tired wisdom of a man who'd lived many years behind his white hair and beard. His temperament rarely changed, regardless of what trouble Joey got into.

Joey came to his workshop several times a week on the colony, when he didn't have chores to do, or sometimes even when he did. The old man learned to enjoy his company, teaching him how to tinker.

The white-haired man silently watched as Joey struggled to fit the switch into its place. The solution was quite simple, but the old man kept his silence, continuing his own circuit work and listening for the moment that Joey would get it.

"Can I do some soldering instead?" Joey asked, putting the switch down on the bench with a small clang.

"Keep at it, boy," Mr. Twitters said, not looking up from the screw he twisted into place.

Joey tried one last time, abandoning finesse and trying to jam the little piece into place. The little yellow switch sprung like a catapult, flying out from the workbench, springing across to Mr. Twitter's bench, striking a gas canister with a gong-like resonance before striking the bridge of Mr. Twitters' spectacles and skidding off the smooth concrete floor, coming to a stop.

"Oh my," Twitters pronounced, chuckling to himself with a smidgen of surprise.

"Uh! Sorry Mr. Twitters," Joey exclaimed, jumping up from his wooden stool, sending it clattering behind him. "Oh, sorry!" he said, looking behind him.

Mr. Twitters chuckled again. "Oh, no bother. Clean up your mess, young man."

"Yes, sir," Joey said, scrambling to pick up everything at once and getting nothing.

After collecting the wayward part and the fallen stool, he sat back down, resuming the forced entry of switch into the mechanical project.

Mr. Twitters walked over behind him, hands clasped behind the small of his back, observing under him the boy's progress. His posture was spry and light for a man of his age, no doubt the result of his daily routine of stretches.

"You know," he began, "If you just—"

"I know how to do it," Joey said, his concentration still on the part.

"Well, if you think about—"

"I know how to do it, Mr. Twitters."

"Oh I see," Mr. Twitters acknowledged facetiously with a convinced nod. He allowed Joey a few more moments before walking into position behind him and taking out his screwdriver with a head smaller than the human eye can see. As soon as Joey set the piece down, he thrust the screwdrivers tip into the smallest of holes in the switch, made the slightest of turns, and returned the screwdriver to his belt. Almost instantaneously, the switch fit neatly into place; Joey's eyes grew large with surprise. "Oh," he managed.

Mr. Twitters chuckled a little to himself, amused as usual by the boy's learning, and regained his seat across the workshop. "Oh, indeed," he said, sitting down.

Joey's face reflected his embarrassment as he examined the now-functional switch. Mr. Twitters, without looking up from his workbench, said, "The next time that you're sure you know something, think about what you're not learning because you're so sure."

Joey sat staring at the switch with a slightly embarrassed grin before continuing his work.

"Now can I solder?" he asked, eliciting a laugh from Mr. Twitters.

***

Isellia walked with a sense of purpose toward the landing gear access port. She had a job to do, which comes with a sense of importance — importance Isellia wrapped around her like a blanket. It was easier dealing with a gunked-up servo in a landing gear assemble than any pesky feelings she might be dealing with.

Traversing the corridor, Isellia swung her arms, held her chin up high, and her eyes focused with intention. She may have looked a bit comical, walking the corridors in that fashion, but no one was around to make her self-conscious.

She turned the corner with a snap and was heading past the main engine room when a strange sound found her ears, slowly turning her confidence into curiosity. She slowed to listen, hearing a sound that was rhythmic and muffled, occasionally breaking rhythm before restarting. Her mind searched the mental blueprint of the ship she had memorized, cross-referencing the catalogue of sounds the ship was supposed to make and sounds it wasn't. But as she drew closer to the sounds, slowing to a tip-toe, it occurred to her that she was hearing someone sobbing.

"Must be that wimpy guy," she thought with a little disdain. The emotion registered to her mind as a weakness, something one couldn't afford out in space. Her somewhat low opinion of Stephen (in fact, he barely registered on her radar; its positioning systems, down to the millimeter, zeroed on Rex) dropped even farther. She began to consider him a possible obstacle and hindrance, and wasn't too sure she wanted someone like that near "her" engine room.

She turned her head fairly discreetly as she passed Rex and Stephen's doorway to the quarters they'd been assigned, expecting to catch a glimpse of teary-eyed Stephen, slumped on his bunk. She was ready to suppress a sneer and instead had to choke back audible shock when she saw instead only Rex — slumped in his seat on his cot, hands holding his face. A letter lay folded next to him on the bunk, crumpled with use.

Isellia barely caught a glimpse of his name on the letter as she took off into nearly a full run toward the landing gear.

***

Porter stepped on the bridge with a light air in his step. Joey noticed a different expression on his face than when he left — he seemed pleased with himself, like a father whose child achieved some sort of accomplishment. Joey pretended not to notice as pretended to concentrate on the monitoring panel, waiting for alarms that didn't seem to happen in the doldrums of space.

"What's the AU reading, Joey?" Porter asked, leaning in behind him while resting his hand on the white console next to him. Joey couldn't help but notice the size of Porter's huge, dark paw, which could've wrapped around his entire face. Joey silently thanked the stars that Porter was a gentle type of fellow, and hoped he never made him angry.

"Looks like .07, sir," Joey said, squinting at the screen to find the reading, displaying his unfamiliarity with the operating system.

"Okay, we're right on time. We're going to slow down to navigable speed. Reduce speed with the transition switch on the right."

Joey struggled to find the appropriate digital lever, coupled with the added nerves of having Porter staring over his shoulder. After what seemed longer than the couple of seconds it actually took, he located it.

"Okay, got it." Joey felt the tingle of cold sweat creep over him, as he concentrated deeply on following Porter's instructions.

"There's a little mark on the righthand side of the lever. Ease it down to that little triangle."

"Okay." Joey slowly pulled the digital toggle down to the notch Porter had indicated. He didn't notice the ship's speed changing.

"Don't stop until you're right at the spot."

"It doesn't feel like the ship is slowing."

"It won't until you let go. It's auto-controlled to gradually reduce the speed at an appropriate rate."

"Oh." Joey found the spot, and let go just as the toggle stopped at the right spot. He was pleased that he was able to follow Porter's instructions to the letter, and turned to Porter looking for approval. Porter noticed this, grinning slightly.

"Don't get too cocky. The fun part comes up next."

Joey straightened up, ready to do what was asked of him next. "What's next?" he asked.

"We've got some time until we get within range. Just take it easy for a moment."

"Okay," Joey said. He sat back in the chair, and his imagination began to wander. He was, after all, about to see his first alien world. Prior to his taking up with Porter's crew, he'd never been farther than 50 miles from his home on the colony mining planet — and spent most of that time even closer. He spent a lot of time wondering what was happening back on his homeworld. But for the present, he was about to meet his first non-human person. What would they be like? he wondered. Porter had been too busy for him to ask, Joey was too nervous to approach Isellia, and the robot, whom he did ask, gave mostly technical answers to his questions. Joey thought the robot was going to fry its circuits trying to answer "yeah, but what are they LIKE?"

Joey leaned forward, trying to imagine their appearance, his elbow slightly rubbing the touch pad. A cursor covered the landing gear, switching its toggle to on.

Before Joey had any idea of what was going on, Porter was next to him, shoving him aside like a pencil. Joey lay on the floor of the bridge, reading cancel next to the landing gear button.

"Wha- What happened," Joey managed to ask after a couple moments of silence.

Porter seemed to ignore him, tapping his headset. Sweat beaded off his forehead. "Isellia, are you okay? Isellia!"

There was a silence for a moment, as the hair on Joey's neck began to stand on end, and the prickles of cold, panicked sweat stormed in full force. He saw the controls, which said landing gear activation cancelled. Isellia had been working on the landing gear, he recalled with a cold shiver of realization.

"WHAT THE HELL!" she yelled over the headset, as Porter winced at the high-decibel assault to his ears. Even Joey recoiled, knowing full well to whom the anger was directed. He felt a mix of relief that Isellia was well enough to yell at the top of her lungs, and dread of discovering what mistake he had obviously made and its consequences.

Porter turned to Joey, looking more relieved than disappointed. "Well, I think she's OK," he said.

***

Joey could only stare at the ground as the shiny solid door slid open. Porter, who had intended to intercept her as she came in to exact the punishment he knew she would be directing at Joey, was too slow as she stormed in a straight line for the boy. Joey couldn't look up at her, but felt her eyes bore into his skull like a laser through butter.

Joey only saw her feet approach before feeling the slap that knocked him off the chair to the floor.

"Isellia!" Porter exclaimed, grabbing her arms to hold her back from hitting the boy again.

"I could be dead right now!" she yelled, pulling and struggling against his enormous hands. "Do you realize that!"

"Hey!" Porter yelled. "Calm down, calm down."

"Calm Down? Do you realize—"

"Yes, I know," Porter said. "HEY! I know. Leave the bridge. You're hot right now. Go settle down."

"I'm gonna settle something!" Isellia yelled as she managed to pull her arm out of Porter's grasp and raise it for a strike. Porter reacted quickly, pulling her other arm to spin her around as she swung, send her fist in a harmless circle as she spun to the ground.

Joey watched from the floor, not having the gumption to get up as the sting of Isellia's slap warmed his cheek. The guilt he felt overwhelmed him, coming from so many angles. In a way he wanted her to hit him more — it was the lesser sting. Because the slap, which hit him harder than anything ever had, didn't hurt nearly as much as the feeling of embarrassment at letting them both down.

"Here's what's going to happen," Porter said, holding Isellia with apparently no effort. "I'm going to let go of you, you're going to go back to the landing gear and finish the job. I don't want to see you back here until we land on Sasuga. Is that clear?"

"You don't want to see me? Are you kidding— Augh!" Porter started directing her to the bridge's exit.

"Is that clear?" he repeated, his voice regaining its calm strength.

Isellia's spirit seemed to drop, and her face grew calmer. "Fine," she finally muttered.

Joey watched with a pit in his stomach as Porter relaxed his grip and she stormed out of the bridge almost as quickly as she entered, slamming the side console next to the sliding door accompanied by a loud shriek as she exited.

***

Joey's mind retraced the whole incident, from the speed change, where he'd done so well, to the accident. He replayed it over and over. Could he have avoided bumping it? He should have. What would it be like if he hadn't? Would she have been impressed by his burgeoning piloting skills? Would she ever forgive him now?

"It's over, Joey," Porter said putting his hand on the young boy's shoulder.

"Okay," Joey nodded, realizing his days of piloting were over. He would ask to do the odd jobs, the dirty jobs — the ones no one else wanted to do. That would be how he'd make up for things, maybe, he thought.

"That's not what I meant," Porter said. "Sit down."

Joey looked surprised, but did as he was told. He wanted to say that he didn't deserve to pilot the ship, that he was a afraid he'd really kill someone this time — but he certainly wasn't going to argue.

"You made a mistake—"

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm terrible. I'll just—"

"I said it was over. It won't be the last one. Learn anything?"

Porter reminded Joey of Mr. Twitters, who was equally understanding when he loaded left-over rations into the memory slot of his favorite mini droid. His theory was that if he put food in the slot it would remember a gourmet meal and gain a sense of taste. The theory didn't pan out.

"I need to be more careful."

"You can't ever let your guard down out here. Space will kill you. It doesn't care. It is cold death. It can bore you to tears, then wham," Porter clapped his giant hands suddenly, causing Joey to jump, "it can kill you like that. Remember: The price for inattention can be death."

"Yes sir," Joey said, barely audible through a cracked voice.

Porter could see from the look on Joey's face that he had said all he needed to.

"You'll be fine. I think you know the seriousness of your mistake."

Porter stopped a minute, lost in thought, as if remembering something. Then he looked back at Joey, remembering himself.

"Alright, time to take us in. Take the controls."

***

"The control tower says we're clear to land," Joey said, his voice still a little shaky.

A small, red indicator had appeared on the viewscreen, pointing out the direction of the Sasugan system. Joey locked on as instructed, putting the ship in a direct line with the still-distant system. Joey followed Porter's instructions with focus, hoping to redeem his earlier misstep.

"Excellent. Soon a guide will appear on your navigation screen. They will look like a series of dots. Simply point the ship at each dot and keep following them until you reach it, then point the ship at the next one."

"Okay," Joey said, turning his attention to the navigation screen. He didn't know why, but he was more confident than he thought he should be.

"Next to each dot," Porter continued, "you will see a speed control number. Reduce the ship's speed to that number as you pass through the dot."

"Got it," Joey said, noting the numbers next to each yellow dot. As the ship approached the first dot, Joey noticed it was actually a diamond-shaped icon.

As he continued, Joey looked further out to the horizon, noting where the dots led. "Porter?"

"Joey?"

"The dots don't go all the way to the planet. Is that okay?"

"Yes Joey. We're actually going to a station orbiting the main planet Sasuga. All spacecraft dock there, and if you need to go to the planet itself, you take a shuttle. It eliminates the strain of entering and leaving the planet's atmosphere, which means a lot of expensive upgrades."

"Oh."

"Besides, we won't need to go to the planet — everything we need is right there on the station. It's kind of like a city onto itself, you'll see."

Joey nodded, and Porter could see his eyes wandering with imagination.

"Now pay attention. If you make a mistake we have to break off and start the whole thing over again."

"Sorry!" Joey snapped to attention. But he couldn't help wondering about the strange new world they were about to see.

***

"Vessel 4576, you are clear for landing. Please follow all safety protocols docking procedures as specified by intergalactic law, chapter 93 section 241 sub-section B, and all cross-referenced bylaws pertaining and relevant. Failure to do so may result in fines from the Intergalactic Counsel or possible audit of your license privileges."

"That's it?" Joey asked, looking up at Porter. The docking procedures seemed to be going smoothly — he was eager for it to be over, to be successful.

"The easier it is, the better," Porter said, grinning. "Just follow the docking rings on your monitor, they'll bring you right in. Easy as Flynn."

Joey looked confused. "Flynn?"

"It's an expression. From the old space serial. I guess that was before your time. Nevermind for now. Just keep watching the monitor."

"Oh," Joey said. He couldn't help but be curious about who, or what, this Flynn could be.

Then something else struck his curiosity, "That was a Sasugan that just talked to us, right?"

"Yes it was."

"Do they... speak common?"

Porter let out a short but deep guffaw. "No, Joey. Not all of them. But generally most people working in a spaceport will speak common. Our ID tag tells them we're not Sasugans, so they use the language of traders and smugglers."

Joey nodded as he maneuvered the ship, following the small pink rings that indicated his flight path. He slowly adjusted the control stick, using dexterity and steadiness well beyond his years — Porter recognized his proclivity for navigation. "I'd like to speak Sasugan someday," he said, more to himself than anything.

"Maybe I'll teach you a few words sometime. Mine's getting a little rusty though."

Joey spun away from the controls, a light in his eyes. "You speak Sasugan?"

Porter gestured slightly toward the viewscreen, now unmanned. Joey nodded, turning quickly back to the monitor. "Yeah, I speak it. I've picked up a few languages on my travels, though Sasugan is the only I've come close to mastering. I worked on a Sasugan spaceport for several years. Can't help but learn when you're surrounded by it every day."

As if on cue, the robot lit to life, its LED casting a pale green light across the bridge as it finished its charge.

"Anyway, the robot should have Sasugan in its data banks. Should come in handy."

"Robot is functionally fluent in 702 languages."

Joey turned to the robot incredulously. "Wow! 702 languages! I'd didn't even know there were that many! How'd you learn them?"

"Robot did not 'learn' them. Robot is programmed to acquire languages."

"What's that mean?" Joey asked, perplexed.

Porter scratched his chin before he spoke. "It means if give it enough material, either spoken language or written, he.. sorry, it... can figure it out. Must be a handy skill. I bet you got syntax algorithms and grammar pattern recognition."

"Wow, you got all that, robot?"

"Affirmative."

"Hmm," Porter said. "702 languages. Sounds like you've gotten around a bit, robot."

"Explain." The robot asked, its LEDs, flashing a green pattern of confusion.

"Nevermind," Porter chuckled. "Hey, looks like we're about to land. I'll alert the rest of the crew, so we can disembark. Robot, are you familiar with the landing procedures for this vessel?"

"Robot is programmed to land 1,054 model-types — that includes this alpha-10 series."

"You must go back, then. They haven't made Alphas in years," Porter laughed at this, and the robot remained silent. "Joey, any questions, ask the robot. Call on the intercom if you need me."

Joey started to turn toward Porter before he remembered not to take his eye off the monitor. "Um... Will it be okay?"

Porter laughed again. "Ah, you'll be fine. And don't worry. Sasugan territory is one of the safest in the galaxy."

## Chapter 1

A lone tumbleweed danced between a pair of figures facing each other across a desert landscape, the sun high in the air. The man stood tense, hand on the gun-like Revolving Oscillator Unit holstered at his side, ready to draw at any minute. His eyes never left his opponent, as sweat beaded his forehead.

His opponent stood as still as night, digital digits poised above its ROU, its gaze as steady as a steel pole. No emotions touched the face of its steely grimace; just the same cold, hard expression that typically adorned its face. A robot has no need for such emotions.

The sun shone high in the blue sky of the colony as the man eyed his prize, waiting for just the right moment. A fraction in time would decide his fate. A hundred times had this man faced such an adversary. Split-second timing and sharp reflexes he hoped would leave him living and breathing long enough to face adversary No. 101.

Deciding the time was right, the man's hand swung out his ROU with unseen speed. He'd nearly squeezed the trigger, only a hair-breadth away, when he felt the burning sting of the laser sear through his skin. He collapsed on the right side where his torso burned, and then it was over. Two well-placed shots to the man's skull made the man as lifeless as the robot. He crumpled to the ground, dead.

The robot crossed the distance to its opponent's corpse, a gap that held so much weight for his adversary only a moment ago, now traversed by the robot with little regard. The robot analyzed his broken form for a moment, then stepped over the man and continued walking. "Most illogical," the robot said.

***

Pinpoints of starlight flickered through the ship's viewscreen, the ancient light of distant suns dancing off the glistening tears Joey blinked away. The spectacular view provided a mere backdrop to his thoughts as he sat at his console on the ship's bridge.

Space so far hadn't been nearly as interesting as he imagined. Galaxies, planets, star clusters, nebula — all of these tugged at his imagination before launching on this voyage, only to be replaced by reality: staring at a screen of brilliant stars that rarely changed view, while wafting in the musk of re-filtered air and the tinge of nostril sting of electronic burning.

Space was at the same time utterly fascinating and immensely boring.

He sighed, putting the dusty news clipping back in his pocket, gritty with sand from the desert-like planet the spaceship left exponentially further and further behind with each passing moment.

Would he see her again?

"Joey is leaking," said a static-laden, mechanical voice, snapping his revery. The voice rang hollow like a transistor radio from old Earth, long before the great shift, in which everyone was forced to leave the planet. Its voice hissed and buzzed between sentences. "Does Joey require maintenance?"

"No, Robot," The boy said, even managing a little chuckle despite his melancholy. "I'm just—" He sighed, knowing the robot couldn't understand. "Nevermind, robot."

"Leaking fluids signal an inefficient system. Repairs are logical." The humanoid-shaped robot, which would have been medium-sized by human standards, blinked its one LED light which ran like a line in the middle of a visor piece. The sound emitted from a small oval box underneath, hashed like an old radio from ancient Earth.

"Haven't you ever heard of crying, Robot?" Joey asked, wheeling in his chair, his tears becoming a fading memory.

"Searching: 'crying.' Retrieval: No data found. Explain." Green Light Emitting Diodes on the side of robot's cranial chassis told Joey it was processing information.

"Like, when you're sad."

"Explain."

"Oh, you know, like –" Joey thought a moment about how he could explain the idea of sadness to a robot. Being 12, he quickly gave up. "It's a human thing, Robot. You know, feelings and stuff."

"Understood, filing under illogical human conditions. Pending further updates."

"It's not illogical," Joey muttered under his breath, involuntarily touching the dusty newsprint in his pocket. He felt that uneasy feeling one gets when they've left something behind.

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" asked a female voice behind them. Joey wheeled around, a tad startled as Isellia stood over him, her arms crossed and her petite mouth twisted into a slight frown. Her silver and pink jump suit hugged her figure close enough underneath her white puffy vest that even a boy as young as Joey couldn't help but take notice. His pulse quickened as she brushed back a few locks of her pink bangs, long enough to catch behind her ear where the rest of her hair was short and spiky. Joey looked away as his cheeks glowed a similar color to her bangs.

"No discussion of the religious construct referred to as hell took place—"

"Shut-up, bolt bucket," Isellia said, rolling her eyes and turning to Joey. "Listen, its gonna get a little trickier from here. So far, all you've had to do is watch for unusual blips. Let me show you what to do next. This light in the corner is hooked into the navi-computer. When it lights up, adjust the altimeter to 13 degrees. Think you can handle that?"

Isellia had to lean over the controls as she explained them, putting her close enough to make Joey uncomfortable. The color in his cheeks grew a flushed red as he tried to listen while hiding his infatuation. He managed a nod after the explanation.

"Whatsa matter? You speak, don't you?" Isellia said, noticing his stammering.

"Joey is malfunctioning." Robot stated.

"He's what?"

"Heart-rate: increased. Blood-pressure: raised. Brain patterns: irregular. Does Joey require maintenance?"

"Ah—" Joey stuttered. Under his breath, "Shut up, Robot."

"What's bucket-head talking about over there?" Isellia said, thumbing over her shoulder to the robot.

"Nothing, nevermind," Joey said, his eyes cast aside.

Isellia looked to the robot and then back to Joey, her brow twisted with inquisition. "Whatever, just don't screw anything up, got it?"

Joey nodded as she left the bridge. There was a pause as Joey recovered his anxiety.

"Joey... has sadness?" the robot inquired.

"Something like that..." Joey muttered.

***

Core leak kills 43 workers

Worker incompetence to blame, officials say

Forty-three workers and one manager were killed recently when a cauldron in Factory F's core leaked, Company C officials said.

The leak, which started in the central processing sector, is the fault of an "incompetent worker," according to a Company C statement.

The factory is one of 42 to line C Colony B, one of the last settlements to be acquired by Company C.

An additional 26 workers were taken to the infirmary with minor injuries. None of them were unavailable for comment.

Factory operations have resumed as normal, and officials from Company C have said that there are no safety concerns associated with the incident.

Fire units Nos. 3 and 7 put out the blaze. One fire suppressor is missing from the incident, presumed dead at the scene. Her disappearance is being investigated.

***

"Hate those things, I hate those things," Isellia muttered, reaching into a tool box as she lay under a small craft on the outer deck of the cargo vessel. The hover-board she stretched out on allowed her to slide back and forth under the ship's chassis as she worked on it. Her air-ratchet filled the docking bay with a harsh, irregular echo as she patched holes in the ship's frame.

"What, ratchets?" said a deep and snarky voice from the doorway of the landing pad.

"That you, Porter?" Isellia asked rhetorically, peaking out from under the metallic fin of the ship. Of course it was him. Joey was the only other male on the ship, and his voice was a few years away from sounding closer to Porter's voice than hers.

"Lucky guess." Porter entered the landing area and crouched down beside her XR-13. "Making more repairs?"

"Yeah, that last dogfight really put a few dents in 'er. Really put her through her paces."

"Wouldn't have if you'd have followed my orders."

"Orders?!" Isellia's face appeared angrily from underneath the ship. "What is this, some military ship, captain?"

"Well I am the Captain," Porter boomed, forcefully yet calmly. "Yeah, of what, two people and a robot? Jeezuz," Isellia rolled her eyes, refocusing on the freshly riveted hull of her ship.

Porter sighed, staring off into the distance. "Should have followed my orders. You'd still have a working ship."

"It is working," Isellia, driving another rivet in a spot she'd missed. "Hey, what're we going to do about the entry fee?"

Porter maintained his posture. "What entry fee?"

Isellia shot him an incredulous look. "Um, the Grand de Lix qualifier? The reason I signed on to this two-bit operation? Don't even look at me, 'what entry fee?'!"

Porter looked at her with minimal emotion. "You really think we can afford that right now?"

Isellia stared at him, her eyes narrowing and her face turning a deeper hue than the color of her pink bangs. The two stared at each other in silence.

"You promised." Isellia said this flatly, her usual sarcastic look gone, replaced with deadpan seriousness. The beginnings of a pout crossed her face.

"I know, I know," Porter sighed. "It's gonna take bigger jobs than the ones we're doing lately."

"We had a deal, remember." Still deadpan.

"Yes, I do. I want you to compete as much you do—"

"Doubt it," Isellia interrupted.

"—cause it would be a big boost to our revenue. It takes money to make money."

Isellia crawled back under the ship. "So find some bigger jobs."

Porter started to respond but she started driving rivets, the sound drowning out anything he might have said. Porter shook his head. "Teenagers," he said to himself.

"By the way, how long until we get to Axel's Pass?" Porter asked between the loud buzz of the rachet's motor.

Isellia peeked out under the craft. "We're in Axel's Pass."

Porter's eyes widened. "With the kid at the wheel?"

"I told him what to do!" Isellia said incredulously.

"Shit," Porter muttered, taking off in a trot.

***

"I thought it'd be different," Joey said, head resting in one hand, ignoring the flashing red light next to his other. He sat in one of two dark red chairs that faced a large, gray control panel. A large control stick reigned over a sea of buttons, used for manual maneuvering and at the moment useless with the steering set to auto-course. Electronic gauges and dials were inset throughout the otherwise white-grey panels, which covered much of the interior of the ship.

The robot stood next to an outcropping in the bulkhead, ergonomically efficient and out of the way of a passersby. "Explain."

"Space, I guess. I always thought traveling through space, seeing other planets would be kind of fun. But, I don't know. It just feels like, kinda boring. I kinda just want to get out, your know?"

"Exiting the spaceship at this time is inadvisable. Result: death."

"Yeah, I know, robot. I just mean... it doesn't feel like we're far away from home. You know what I mean?"

The robot's LEDs blinked as it processed. "Robot cannot compute: 'feeling.'"

Joey laughed a little. "Ha, I keep forgetting that you're a robot. You don't know what feelings are."

"Robot cannot compute: 'forget.'"

Joey sighed. "You know, like when you know something, and then you can't remem... you can't think of it. You know something but you just can't get at it."

"Computing. Joey refers to data retrieval errors."

"Yeah! Like you can't get access the data you need."

"Problematic."

"Yeah!"

"Classification: system malfunction. Recommend system repair upgrade."

"No, robot. System repair upgrades are just for robots, not people."

"Humans cannot upgrade?"

"No. Well, kinda. We just get older. We get smarter when we get older. Well, maybe not all of us. Hmm."

"Robot requires upgrades and maintenance periodically to ensure system efficiency."

"So do we, as we get older," said a deep, booming voice. They whirled about to see Porter standing in the entryway to the bridge, a smiling grin on his face. "We definitely need a lot of maintenance."

He looked past Joey to the console, noticing the flashing light. "How long has that light been flashing?"

***

"What are you looking at," A tall, grizzled man said. He stood leaning against an XR-12, cigarette dangling from his teeth, his face framed by dark, stringy hair tinged with gray that hung in his face. A young Isellia stood behind him, watching. He took another puff and dropped his hand to his side, flicking ash against his slacks before the grey dust tumbled to the landing pad.

"There is no smoking on the staging pad. It is strictly prohibited, in fact," said a short, be-speckled man in a suit. "And furthermore, you won't be allowed to race without a proper flight suit. This outfit simply will not do, no not at all."

The slightly rotund man stood squinting at Wallace, holding his clipboard and waiting for a reply with apprehension.

Wallace leaned over the man, peering down over a stubbled chin weathered with age. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes steeled. XRs whizzed overhead and the sounds of a live field of machines being prepared for the upcoming race couldn't mask the silence of his stare as it bore into the soul of the small man.

Finally, the bespectacled man could bare it no more. "Oh, I don't get paid enough for this. Blow yourself up, see what I care." He stumbled away, changing directions several times and nearly bumping into someone before disappearing from sight.

After he left, Wallace stomped out his cigarette, half-finished, its bright red ember cascading from under his foot across the launch pad. He took a look around at the rest of the field, most hard at work on their XRs or at least on talking themselves up to their buddies, fans or the press, and grabbed his tool chest.

"Why'd you do that? It's the rules and you know it."

Wallace put his hand on the head of the young girl that looked up at him, rustling her pink hair under his grizzled, dirty hand, before resuming his direction. "Life's full of bosses. I don't let nobody tell me what to do."

Young Isellia looked at him, not saying anything while he calibrated the flex converter on his XR. "Bring me a hex ratchet, wouldya?"

Isellia reached in the toolbox and, already being adept with mechanics and maintenance, quickly found the ratchet and palmed it into Wallace's grease-covered hand.

"Thanks." Wallace quickly became entranced in his work, muttering to himself as he made adjustments. Isellia became entranced in the sound of his working, silently and intently watching him and learning.

***

"I'm ready to go! Give the signal," Isellia shouted, left hand gripping the joystick of her XR-13, right hand on the accelerator handle. Her left leg twitched in anticipation, as it did whenever she became excited. Her eyes inadvertently scanned the dials and knobs in the cockpit of her one-person fighter, seeking one last malfunction, one flight-list check-off missed, anything that might be out of place or cause her the slightest problem. Anything that might give Porter cause to chastise her.

Pirate attack, most likely, she thought. She was ready.

"Not yet, Isellia," Porter boomed back across the headset, which peeked out behind Isellia's pink bangs and seemed to grow out of her scalp. "Be patient. They haven't made contact yet."

"Damnit!" Isellia slammed the top of the console, gritting her teeth. "You know what they want! Damn pirates don't ask twice. Just let me at them!"

"Isellia. Stand by." Isellia gave the console a consolatory shove, a last sigh of exasperation, and slumped back in her chair. As soon as she had heard Porter talk about the red light flashing, and subsequently had seen the Company C cargo vessel making a beeline for them, she knew they were pirates. She knew as only a teenager can know for certain without questioning, not thinking for a second of the possibility of being wrong. It was the oldest trick in the book, stealing a cargo ship and faking a distress beacon. Damn that Porter, she thought. What does that old geezer know anyway?

"I don't know," Porter said to himself, not really addressing either Joey, who watched Porter pace back and forth, nor the robot, whose optical sensors followed each and every one of Porter's movements.

"I mean, it's one of the oldest tricks in the book," Porter continued, folding his hands under his belly. "A stolen cargo ship with a distress beacon. But then," he said turning to speak to them directly, "see the angle of their ship? Typically an attacker would set up an attack angle for the ambush. Hmm," Porter mumbled, resuming his pacing.

Suddenly, he turned. "What do you two think?"

Joey, surprised at being consulted, sat up in his chair, a tad embarrassed. "Um, I think we should help them," he said after a start.

"Illogical," the robot said. "Destruction of the incoming ship would lead to the most likely positive result with the lowest risk."

"But robot, we can't just destroy them! They're asking for help!"

"It is possible, employing the XR piloted by the female, that the ship can easily be destroyed. Destruction of the approaching vessel is logical."

"No, that's not what I — I mean we just CAN'T."

Porter interjected, "Let me remind you, robot, if I may. The law for unrestrained robots outside of Company C jurisdiction is quite clear. Therefore illegal in Company C controlled space. By keeping you on board, we are putting ourselves at risk. The most logical act would be to jettison you out of the nearest airlock, and be safer for it."

Joey's eyes went wide, turning to the robot, but the robot's LEDs displayed little fluctuation. "Affirmative."

"But then why do you think it is we don't do that?" Porter looked at him inquisitively.

Robot replied, without missing a beat, "Humans are illogical."

Porter smiled, resuming his pacing. "We certainly are that. Now then, here's some more illogic. How's your piloting coming along, boy? Can you bring us alongside without crashing?"

Joey snapped out of his trance and returned to the console, gripping the manual steering joystick. "Yeah, I think I can do it."

"Are you sure?" Porter regarded him. "You think so?"

"I can do it!" he said, a little louder than he intended, his face flushing a light red with embarrassment.

Porter nodded, crossing his large, dark forearms as he watched with anticipation.

***

Joey tightly gripped the control grips, his hands smearing sweat on their red vinyl covering. He'd been practicing navigation the last few weeks since he'd fled his colony planet home, running through simulation programs while the ship remained on auto-pilot. The real thing was much more scary.

"That's it, you're doing fine, boy." Porter stood behind him, watching and ready to lend assistance. Porter seemed to take an interest in him that bordered on paternal.

Porter was there to help, but his presence made Joey nervous. The eyes of an onlooker made Joey second-guess himself, and as he maneuvered the ship into position, his hands began to sweat more, little points like pinpricks tingled his head with anticipation. His heart rate increased. "Thanks," Joey muttered, his attention focused wholly on the his task.

"Joey is operating outside normal parameters," Robot broke in. "Heart rate increased, body temperature elevated. Joey requires further maintenance."

"He's fine, Robot. Just a little nervous." Porter grinned inside a little, thinking about his first time piloting in space. "I was a little younger than you when I did this for the first time."

"Really?" Joey asked, nearly taking his attention away from the helm before catching himself.

"Nervous? 'Nervous' is a standard human response mechanism?" Robot's LEDs flashed inquisitively.

"Yes," Porter calmly said, hardly paying attention to the robot.

"'Nervous: A positive or negative response?"

"It's both," Porter said. "And neither."

Robot's LED display flashed and flickered frantically for a moment while, on the viewscreen, the foreign vessel grew larger. "Explain."

"Well, on the one hand, it isn't pleasant, and might cause him to act slower. On the other hand, it'll keep him alert, so he won't make a mistake."

"Understood. Robot does not program 'nervous.' Nervous is inefficient."

Porter looked at the robot for a second, then turned back to Joey. "Don't worry about all that, Joey. Just steer her in nice and slow. Almost there. Almost. There!"

The cargo vessel stopped in the viewscreen and a loud clank rattled the ship. In the cold of space not a noise could be heard, but inside the shock reverberated through the ship's hull. Joey held the controls tightly for a moment, not believing the maneuver was over, then looked around and relaxed against the red vinyl.

"I did it," he said breathlessly, looking at the robot and Porter for approval.

"Not bad," Porter said, nodding.

"Joey's imperative was accomplished with minimal inefficiency."

Porter chuckled to himself. "I think that's his way of saying good job."

"Oh," Joey said, smiling for the first time since the ordeal. "Thanks, robot."

Its green lights flashed once then went silent.

Porter smiled and turned to the robot. "Alright, let's go see to our 'guests.' Robot, come with me. Joey, you stay at the helm, keep an eye on the skies for any other ships. Isellia?"

There was a slight radio crackle. "Yeah! I'm a little busy right now, doing absolutely NOTHING!"

"Stay in your cockpit. We docked with the cargo vessel, and the robot and I are going to check it out. The kid'll radio if anything suspicious comes up."

"Still think it's a trap."

"We'll find out." Porter gestured at the robot and the two walked out of the bridge, both with ROUs in hand.

***

Isellia fiddled with the control knobs on her XR, twisting her face with the boredom of waiting. Her finger traced the custom leather grip, a treat to herself after one of her crew's more successful jobs before the crash. She remembered installing it, the pride she felt, one more part of her XR that made it hers. She breathed a sigh of exasperated boredom mixed with remembrance, fingers absently combing her bangs back.

***

Wallace looked at the broken down heap of junk in front of him, frowning at the dilapidated machinery silently. His hand ran along its rusting hull, his scrutinizing eyes tracing its many defects along the way. He crouched below the craft, peering under its chassis.

Finally he stood, lighting a cigarette as he looked out into the distance of the ship salvage yard. After taking a puff, flaring the tip of the cigarette in an orange and ash colored bulb, he exhaled, the smoke dissipating into the dark, orange-red sky, the hulls of broken ships silhouetting its colorful backdrop. "Sat too long," he said into the distance, seeming to no one in particular. "It'll never fly."

Young Isellia sat looking at the ship, seeing her dream in what others would cast off as scrap metal. "I can fix it." Her eyes never left the ship as she spoke.

"Never get 'er running. Been in the ground too long. Sometimes it's too late to fix 'em." Wallace puffed his cigarette, ready to drop the matter. "'Sides, this is a 13. Plenty of problems with those. Too buggy."

She didn't waver her gaze, and no emotion showed on her face, save for a slight tremor. Her voice raised slightly, with a dash more pride as she reiterated, "I can fix it."

Isellia's gaze remained on the ship, and it probably wouldn't have mattered due to the angle Wallace stood from her, but had she been able to, she'd have seen the slightest of grins cross his face, a grin that rarely found a home on his cigarette-stained lips.

Isellia remained hyper-fixated on the dilapidated XR in front of her. She never saw Wallace's expression change. "You'll be in debt before you'll find any work." He took another puff of his cigarette. "If you get it running."

There was a long pause, with neither of them speaking. Isellia simply stared at the broken down, rusting XR, knowing in her heart that this vessel would carry her through space someday, by her own hand. Her only moving feature was her eyes, which looked at each individual part, considering both the aesthetic angle and the work required, and the possible cost of each replacement. She knew it would be a long time before such a thing was space-worthy and she had no desire to delay repairs.

Wallace finished his cigarette, dropping it thoughtlessly to the ground and stepping on it as he turned to walk past Isellia. "Let's go," he said, walking past the starry-eyed, weathered girl. Her face never left the XR, her small, grey jumpsuit flapping slightly in the slight wind of the planet. "Time you learned how to negotiate anyhow."

Isellia could hardly contain her beaming grin, knowing that what she knew in her heart was about to become true, or as close to true as these things come. She could hardly contain the bounce in her step as she followed the lanky, sinewy frame of her father through the orange-lit frames of old ships left to die, one of them about to slowly phoenix off the planet.

***

Porter walked the corridor leading to the docking bay, the robot close at his heals. They walked in silence save for the clink-clank of footsteps against the metallic floor. More expensive spaceships provided many options, including a variety of floor surfaces, with various degrees of dampening. Luxury cruisers, like a Company C CEO commander might own, might barely make a sound as one walked its luxurious contours. This was not one of those.

Porter came to a stop in front of a semi-rusty metallic door, with a large bar attached to a round swivel that opened it. Porter breathed a sigh as the robot stopped beside him.

"Understand something, robot: You're here just in case. Don't do anything crazy."

The robot's LED flickered once. "Robot is operating within logical parameters. Robot is not programmed for 'crazy.'"

Porter was too on guard to chuckle. "Let me put it another way. It would be impertinent to act without my authorization. Proceed as directed."

The robot's LED flashed responsively. "Understood," it said.

Porter reached for the door handle, twisting the bar which loudly turned a cylindrical mechanism with the sound of heavy steel on heavy steel. An electronic switchbox on the side of the door flashed green.

"Well, it looks like they docked easily enough," Porter said. "Alright, let's see who our visitors are."

Porter swung the door open with a creak, effectively hiding him from view temporarily. Immediately out of the door-frame swung a charged ROU, pointed in the room and ready to fire.

In what would appear impossibly fast to human perception, the robot perceived the threat and immediately drew and aimed its ROU back at the man holding the weapon, appearing as a mirror image to its new adversary.

"STOP!" Porter yelled.

The scene froze in silent tension as the robot stood unmoving, its ROU firmly pointed forward as the man's pointed back. No one took a breath or dared move a millimeter.

Suddenly a small shuffling noise could be heard further behind the dark, grizzly man. Porter inched his way out from behind the door, careful to do so slowly, so as not to trigger an explosion of ROU fire. The shuffling grew louder, and as Porter crouched ready to spring, a smaller, scrawny and somewhat sickly man stepped into view just behind the man holding the ROU.

"Um, excuse me?" he said timidly, stammering to get out his words. "I think, um, that is, perhaps, a misunderstanding, I think, um —"

Some of the tension left Porter as he curiously regarded the man. "A misunderstanding..." Porter looked from the robot to the man to the much smaller man, the latter visibly trembling where he stood. "Certainly seems like it."

The man looked up at Rex, who stood unwavering, nearly as stoic as the robot. A small bead of sweat formed on his brow, but his dark hair-framed complexion remained cool and steely, almost a human mirror of the robot's. The smaller man looked at his feet, his hands folded in front of him.

Porter considered the two men for a moment, then calmed. He tapped the robot's chassis with the flat of his hand. "Robot, you can lower your weapon."

"Negative. Danger still present. Self-protection protocol active."

Porter turned to him. "The danger is that if you both keep pointing a weapon at each other, someone is going to wind up dead. And if they wanted that, don't you think he would have fired already? Lower your weapon."

The robot's LED, which had been calm previously, flashed furiously. "Negative. Protection protocol active."

A small vein on Porter's temple twitched nervously. "Robot! That is an order! Lower your weapon, or your time on this ship is over. Enter that into your damn protection protocol!"

The robot's LED flashed even more violently than before as it held its ROU pointed at the man's head. Finally the LED came to a near stop, and slowly the robot lowered its ROU.

Porter breathed a sigh of relief, and the small timid man let out a sigh, though he still remained tense. Porter seemed to be thinking about something, but shook it off for later.

"Now then," Porter said, regaining his calm, "one down," he looked pointedly at Rex, "one to go."

## Chapter 9

Joey was too focused to hear Rex and the assassin enter the space ship. He sat at a diagnostics terminal, eyes focused on the screen and oblivious to any outside activity, alternating between furiously working the keyboard and doublechecking readings from the ships diagnostic tools. The robot's LED flashed multitudes of colors, both perceptible and otherwise. The terminal picked up infrared, gamma, UV — more than Joey had thought possible. Stephen sat on a chair on the other side of the bridge, staring at the floor. He lifted his head as the two entered.

"I just can't figure it out," Joey muttered between bouts of computerese and robotics jargon. The screen cast a slight glow on his expression, which aged with experience when he worked on machines.

"Whatsa matter?" Rex asked, nodding his head ever so slightly in the robot's direction.

Stephen, who realized with discomfort that he'd need to play spokesperson for the moment, started at the question. "He, uh, the robot, well... there's been an accident."

"What kind of accident?" the assassin asked.

The nature of the incident already made Stephen uncomfortable, but needing to explain it to someone else was simply too much. "Well, uh, that is, um... How do I, well..."

"Robot got screwed," Joey said, not looking up from his console nor slowing his speeding hands across the keyboard's thin surface. "It's insides are all messed up."

Rex and Celia looked at each other, surprised. Rex was silent a moment, deep in thought, before speaking. "Impossible."

"How do you know?" the assassin asked. "In my experience, men will find a way, if there is one."

"Wasn't a man," Joey said absently.

"It was a woman?" The assassin asked.

"Yeah. Well, no." Joey finally looked up from the console to think about it. "Sort of a woman." He resumed his furious typing.

"Sort of a woman?" the assassin asked. "What does that mean?"

Rex stood silently. A look of understanding crossed his face like a cloud hiding the sun. "One-Lung Alice," he said at last.

Everyone stopped, looking up at Rex, puzzled. After a moment, Joey spoke. "You've heard of her?"

Rex stared at the floor a moment, seemingly lost in thought. He looked up when he spoke. "Yeah. I've heard of her."

***

Constable report

Log No. 89567

Incident type: Property damage

Perpetrator

Real name: Unknown

Alias: One-lung Alice

Species: Unclassified cyborg

Past incidents: Smuggling, robbery, piracy, theft, arson, grand theft class II, III and VI, murder, non-payment of space docking fees.

Outstanding warrant: Body only. DOA.

Victim

Real name: Joey Greene

Alias: None.

Nature of complaint: Theft and damage to property (one mechanoid assistant)

Resolution: The mechanoid was recovered, victim sent on his way with his property. GWPA (Gone When Police Arrived).

\---

The sheriff's hands dropped from the keyboard, his hand curling into a fist that grabbed around his pant leg so much that he nearly ripped the pant leg.

He sent the report with a click of a button, then leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. A quarantine had been set up; all vessels would be searched before leaving.

"So, you're back, Alice. You won't be leaving this time. Not after what you've done. Not after what you've taken from me."

He slammed his fist on the desk, shaking and nearly knocking over a small frame that held a picture of a young woman and a small boy.

***

"The robot got what?'" Isellia asked incredibly. Her pile of upgrades and other goodies for her XR lay scattered at her feet, her jaw dropped in disbelief, the joy of shopping disappeared from her countenance.

"Is that even possible?" Porter asked. Joey looked from one person to the next anxiously, hoping to discern clues from the conversation to the nature of the robot's malady. He didn't fully understand what happened to the robot, nor the extent of the damage; or even if there was actual damage, per se.

"It's not exactly like an assault on a person, per se," the assassin said, visibly more uncomfortable than anyone on the ship had ever seen her. "It's like a...well, um..."

"A data ejaculation," Rex said almost absently.

"A what?!" Isellia asked.

"A sudden burst of data flooding into the robot's CPU at once," the assassin said. "The robot would have been subdued somehow, plugged into through its data port, and flooded with unwanted data."

"Leaving it jumbled inside, the same and yet irreparably different than before," Porter said, "just like..."

"Yep," Rex said.

There was a silence as the party contemplated the weight of the scenario. Joey's look contrasted with everyone else's – he understood the conversation, somehow, without really understanding the bigger implications. He looked to the robot, knowing that it was intact and functioning and yet not quite right. Knowing that he was likely its only hope of ever being right again.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," Porter finally said, breaking the silence. "There's mercenaries on our tail, and supplies won't last forever. I recommend we finish the job."

Everyone nodded their agreement solemnly.

"Perhaps, then," Porter continued, "you'd better tell us exactly where it is we're going."

***

"Coordinate 29-6?" Porter asked, astounded. Isellia and Joey stood wide-eyed, having no comprehension of the significance that Porter was reacting to.

Rex nodded.

"You mean Babel IX? The Babel IX?" Porter's eyes grew wide in a way that Isellia had rarely seen, and Joey never had.

Rex nodded again.

"But that's impossible," Porter said, taking on an air of skepticism. "Babel IX is a myth, a legend. The stuff of great literature, to be sure. But it doesn't actually exist."

"Who knows," Rex said in his unaffected tone. "That's where I need to go."

"Um, someone want to clue us in?" Isellia asked, her arms crossed in frustration at feeling left out.

"Well, it started hundreds of years ago," Porter began.

"Oh great, not another lecture," Isellia rolled her eyes.

"Do you want to know, or don't you," Porter asked, raising his eyebrows. Joey continued diagnosing the robot, but looked up to see what he would say.

"Whatever, go on," Isellia said, sighing for emphasis.

"It all started with a group of scientists who were on the run from Company C..."

***

"It doesn't exist."

"It does so!"

"It's a fairy tale. A legend. Good lord, do you believe in the Eastern bunny too? Or Santana Claw?"

"It does so exist! I can prove it!"

"I'm sure," the young man said, rolling his eyes as he flung his shoulder-length black hair from his face. "Are you going to set her straight, teach?"

The teacher considered both, looking from the arrogant young man with long, dark hair, seated with his feet on the empty desk in front of him and his hands squarely resting on his head, to the young, clean cut girl, with perfect braided light brown hair and large, inquisitive eyes. He smirked, picking up a romantic tension between the two he assumed they weren't even aware of – a longing disguised as mutual irritation.

Or maybe they just didn't like each other.

"Sophie, why do you think it's real?" the teacher asked.

"Because!" she said, her eyes growing wider as she argued. "My great-great-grandfather was one of the scientists."

The young man threw up his hands in desperation. "You see what I mean! That's not even possible. Her family is big in the company. There's no way Company C wouldn't have destroyed any family of the scientists involved with the Babel IX."

"I can't help the family I come from!" Sophie glared at Arex, tears beginning to pool in the corners of her eyes.

"No, but you can sure benefit. You just like to believe in the Babel IX myth and that your great-great-great-great—"

"Great-great grandfather!"

"—whatever, was one of the scientists because it relieves your guilt. Oh, you're not just some rich girl from the company, you're one of us, right? Like, you're cool with the rest of us, because you got roots too, right? Get over it. So what, just because a bunch of scientists from Company C broke the rules once, tried to create a paradise away from the hell of Company C slavery, that somehow makes you one of us? One of the worker class? Then, whoops, semester break, and we all get to scrape by and you and yours head back to your lives of luxury while we figure out how we're going to eat until the school cafeteria opens again for the year."

"Why are you doing this...?" Sophie stuttered through tears.

"If you want to hold to that illusion," Arex was standing now. "Then fine. But don't pretend you're one of us. Like because you hold on to some legend about some ancestor that makes you understand us. Jeesh." He stood staring at her, while Sophie fell into full sobs, face buried in her hands. Alex snorted, shaking his head as he sat back down, crossed his arms and looked out the window.

The rest of the class sat silently, looking between the professor, Sophie and Arex. Arex, done being the center of attention for awhile, resented the class' eyes on him, and sat at his desk with his arms folded, his face twisted with a sneer of derision. The only sound in the room was Celia sobbing into her palms.

The professor walked over to Arex, standing in front of his desk looking down on him. Arex looked up at him, for a moment intimidated by his large size, before remembering where he was. "What, don't tell me you believe it too. Look if we're going to just—"

Porter swung out his large open hand, catching Arex above the temple, sending him sprawling through the empty side of the desk, onto the polished floor. When he looked up, he seemed more shocked at the blow than at any pain it may have caused.

Porter stood silently over him for a few moments. Arex stared at him wide-eyed.

"Sophie probably could have went to any university under Company C control in the universe. She's bright, has a good sense and yes," he said, looking at Sophie for emphasis, whose tears had dried as she curiously watched the professor, "she comes from a very rich family.

"She could have went to any of those other schools, and had a very easy life. Her parents could have bought her way into a very comfortable position, and lived a life of luxury." He turned back to Arex, who flinched slightly as he turned. "But she didn't. She chose to come here. To a university that guarantees life will be harder for her. She's not trying to be one of you. She's trying to understand you. She's trying to understand a bunch of people that members her class would have told her are inferior. She went against all her teaching to prove to them and to herself that you all are more than that.

"She didn't assume, because you were from a different class than her, that you must be inherently different. Inferior."

Arex looked up at Porter, his hand on his face. The blow had hurt — Porter was a large man, and even though he was generally a calm teacher, he had been an fighter, fought through many bouts, and knew exactly how hard he had hit Arex, instinctively — just enough to knock sense into him.

"And what have you done?" Porter continued. "Have you tried to understand her? Have you given her the benefit of the doubt? Have you treated her like one human being should treat another human being? Or did you just treat her according to her class, without considering the person at all? You talk about how terrible they all are, but what makes you think you're superior?"

Porter looked down at the young man, who stopped looking up at him and stared at the ground in front of him. He was gritting his teeth, and tears streaked down his cheeks.

Sophie watched silently. What Porter said was true, or at least half true. The fact is, she liked Arex — she had for a long time, and she wanted to be near him. She wanted to understand the people she was around to understand him. He was passionate, and they argued whenever they spoke. But she was drawn to that passion, something lacking in the world she came from.

Porter leaned down near him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

"You're not a bad kid, Arex," Porter said, softening. "But get over yourself a little, okay?"

Porter turned to the rest of the classroom.

"Whatever's going on outside this classroom, whatever your backgrounds, wherever you come from, and whatever you do, remember this – when you're here, you are all the same class. One class. MY class." Porter walked to his desk and sat down. "You need to look out for each other in this world, because no one else will."

He reached down and touched a scar on his right forearm, considering how he was going to continue the lesson, and whether he would be able to continue his post.

***

"Um, great story, professor," Isellia said, looking bored. "But what about Babel IX?

It was just a bunch of scientists breaking away from Company C?"

Porter seemed to snap back into place, looking around the room as everyone stared at him. "Oh, right. Well, I guess there isn't much to tell. It's an interesting story, particularly because the scientists involved didn't have any personal motivation to do it. They were set, as far as money and security. As long as they pushed the company line, they were set for life."

"But I don't get it," Joey said, looking confusedly. "What is it? Some kind of planet?"

"Well," Porter began, "No one knows for sure—"

"It's a server," Rex interjected.

Everyone except Stephen and the assassin stared at him.

"You mean, like data storage?" This made Joey think of the robot, and a wave of depression hit, a mix between the kind one feels when an important piece of machinery is broken and a good friend is sick.

"Yes, it's like that, but... a bit more complicated," the assassin said. "And we think we can use the robot to unlock it."

"The robot," Joey asked. "But it's broken."

"It might not matter," she said. "In fact, it might make it easier."

***

"Coordinates are set, sir," Joey said, looking back over his shoulder. He didn't know how the robot was involved in any of this, and he didn't really understand any of it anyway, but the adults seemed determined, and that was enough for him. He would do his best.

"Good, Joey," Porter said. "Looks like we've been given clearance to lift off. Let's take her out."

The ship shuddered as the docking clamps released, then floated in a manner that made them feel as if the ship were stationary, save for the changing scene on the view screen. Joey took one last look at all the spaceships parked at the supply station, remembering how happily Porter described the place.

And how much he despised it now. He touched the blue ribbon tied to his right arm before initiating the launch sequence.

## Chapter 5

Joey sat on the edge of Isellia's bed, fidgeting nervously. Clothes flew comically from Isellia's trunk, which Joey had hauled through the streets of the Sasugan space station. The top of the trunk hid Isellia herself, so the articles of outerwear (and underwear, Joey noticed with embarrassment) seemed to fly out of the trunk on their own power.

Joey didn't have much time to notice the station itself, as he lugged the giant trunk with all his might, sweating under its weight. The sights he did notice were overwhelming: A block of tall buildings that seemed to rise forever into the star-lit dome of the station punctuated by blocks of sprawling little shops and bodegas and other buildings, the use of which he could only guess. The buildings hung over the streets like trees, many of them connected by skywalks at varying levels, like a skyscraper jungle gym. The lights from the many buildings were nearly indistinguishable from the stars themselves.

The glow of flashing advertisements and directional signs fought an ongoing battle for the attention of passersby, most of whom paid little attention to anything going on in the sky. The streets were filled with many busy Sasugans and otherworlders — none of them looking like tourists, agape with wonder as Joey was as he dragged Isellia's pink trunk through the streets while trying not to run into anyone. Susugans, and the occasional otherworlder, seemed to regard him with annoyance and disregard at the same time and most forgot about him moments after running into him.

He now had time to process the overwhelming experience of the Sasugan street, comparing it to the absolute quiet of the 35th story condominium in which Isellia continued to fling clothes. The room was white and sparsely decorated; there were a few shelves in the rooms, most with one object on them. He didn't know what any of them were but they all seemed withered and old, and somehow striking. A big window behind Isellia's flying clothes looked out over the cityscape of the Sasugan station, as well as a garden with native Sasugan species — Joey could only see the silhouette of plants against the night scene. Each of them were given a room like this — he guessed this Fina must be pretty important, in some way.

"What's with you?" Isellia asked, peeking out behind the side of the trunk momentarily. "You haven't said much."

Joey snapped out of his revery as a light-blue and black top stuck him in the face. "Oh, just — it just seems so quiet here."

She stared at him a moment.

"You know," he continued, worried he had said something stupid, "compared to outside."

Isellia nodded. "Sasugans like their peace and quiet. The buildings are all soundproof. Keeps the noise out."

Joey looked at Isellia. He had been under the impression that she hated him. Now he was sitting on her bed — he'd never sat on a girl's bed before, and even though it wasn't her bed, per se, it made him nervous none the less. Shewas been acting different toward him now. But why did she ask him to come into her room?

"Um, so, why did you ask me to—"

"Aha! Found it," Isellia sang in that tone that undercut her rough exterior. She held in her hand some sort of tool, one that Joey had never seen before. "Now we can go."

"Go?" he asked.

"Hey go find that robot of yours," she said, poking into his chest playfully as she walked past him. "We might need him."

"Um, okay," Joey said, "but I think Porter said that we should—"

"Go get it!" Isellia ordered, her more demanding persona once again emerging.

As Joey walked down the hall back towards the room he shared with Stephen and the robot, he wondered what exactly he would be getting himself into, why he was getting into it, why Isellia was suddenly being (relatively) nice to him and why he seemed to utterly lack the ability to say no to anything she asked of him.

***

Joey walked as fast as he could to keep up with Isellia's pace as they navigated the Sasugan streets. It was later now, the flow of people reduced to a trickle, and a cool mist hung in the air. The mist was a by-product of the station's bio-scrubbers as they worked ceaselessly to clean the station's air. He looked back at the robot, the mist covering its chassis with a thin film of condensation. Joey considered tracing a smily face on its access port, but thought better of it.

Sweat formed on his forehead as he looked up at the night sky. The stars were bright, but not as bright as they had been earlier, outshone by the Sasugan home world as it rose in slivered dome above the cityscape. The rotation would put it in full view in a matter of hours.

But Joey could only appreciate the view in small doses. He still wasn't entirely sure what they were up to, which made inventing a story to tell Stephen that much easier. He had said something about exploring the neighborhood — in only a short time they were pretty far from anything that could be considered "the neighborhood."

"This way, I think," Isellia said, as she stopped and peered around the corner at an intersection. "Wait, no, it's — no this is it. Come on." Isellia waved the two forward, and was off, walking so fast that Joey could barely keep up.

"Um, so, where're we going?" Joey asked after running a few steps to keep up. He looked back at the robot, which was right behind him, its pace appearing unchanged. The robot, of course, could speed up without any change in posture or stride. It simply sped up each movement in its stride.

"Direction: West." The robot replied. "Zoning change in several meters. Light industrial."

"I wasn't asking you, robot."

Isellia stopped in her tracks and was silent. Joey watched her, silent.

"Isellia," Joey said tentatively after a few moments.

"Joey," she said finally, not turning around. "You like me, right?"

The question took Joey off guard. He took a quick intake of air, and his heart started racing, his face turning bright red.

"Malfunction detected—"

"Shut up, robot!" Joey shouted, turning to the robot.

"I mean, we're crew members now," Isellia said. "We gotta be able to count on each other."

Joey turned from shaking his fist at the robot and regarded her seriously. "Um, yeah. Of course."

She turned around and stood right in front him, her face inches from his. Joey's eyes were as wide as they could possibly open, and his jaw went slack as he stared into her bright eyes.

"You're a part of my crew now. We help each other out. We stick together."

She moved her face a little closer. Joey started to back up, but she stopped him by grabbing his arm. He didn't dare move.

"I may only get one more chance. You think I want to work on a cargo ship forever? I want to win, Joey."

Joey stared at her, not understanding what she meant.

"You... want to win?" Joey couldn't stand her face this close to his, it was too much for him. But he didn't dare look away. "You mean, an XR race?"

She stared at him, her face close enough for her bangs to brush Joey's cheek. Whatever this was all about, it was too much for Joey to take.

Finally Isellia let him go, turning back toward the street. "Look, Porter doesn't know everything, okay. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

The robot looked up. "Unknown variables = danger. Illustration: Unidentified obstacles in space..."

"Alright already, bolt-brain," Isellia said, making a dismissive gesture. "Listen, you in or out?"

"But I still don't understand what we're doing?" Joey wanted to agree, but something about the situation gave him a bad feeling.

"We're going to acquire a flux cooling coil."

"'Acquire?'"

"Yes. Don't ask questions."

"You mean steal, don't you..." Joey looked at his feet.

"What did I just say?" Isellia walked up to Joey, putting her hand on his shoulder. She was about a head taller than him, and he looked up into her eyes as she came to him. "You trust me, don't you."

Joey looked at his feet again. She had saved his life, hadn't she? The others were out of sight as soon as the firing had started.

"Yes," he said, not looking up.

"Good. Crew members need to trust each other. Like I trust you won't ever activate the landing gear when I'm working on it. Ever." She looked up pointedly as she said this, laying in the final clip of guilt to ensure his compliance. Joey nodded, feeling a lump in his throat.

Instantly, the serious look on Isellia's face dissolved into the excitement of a teenage girl.

"That's what I thought. Ok, Let's go!"

***

"The key to a good lock pick," Isellia said, eyes narrowed in concentration as she threaded a small, thin piece of metal into the large padlock that secured the fence gate, "is to get just the right size."

It was clear that she had done this before, Joey thought, though she was yet far from a pro. Joey wondered exactly how much experience she'd had at this, and why. Would this be something he would need to learn?

"Assistance required?" the robot asked. "An ROU blast would be more efficient."

Isellia waved him away. "Are you nuts? We don't want anyone to know we were here. We need to put the lock back when we're done. Besides, the lock isn't the problem. Keep your input plug into that data jack so you can disable the alarm."

Isellia fumbled with the lock some more, turning it over. "I think I'm close."

Joey looked out at the long row of fence that seemed to house mountains of something — in the dark he couldn't quite tell what. He felt a bit like a third wheel, since he seemed to as of yet have no role in the caper. He looked around nervously, expecting Sasugan authorities to walk around the corner at any moment. The alley was dark, and on the other side were all blank buildings, industrial and featureless.

"Robot only contains metal and plastic parts. No organic material."

Isellia stopped picking, looking at the robot with derision. "What?"

"Robot does not = nuts."

Isellia, realizing what the robot was talking about, rolled her eyes as she continued her work. "O-kaaay... There!"

The lock dropped off the door, and Isellia quickly slammed her feet together, catching it between her feet to keep it from hitting the ground and making any noise. The robot stood motionless, its data jack in the side panel, while its LED flashed to indicate it was working. The light went out after a few moments, it pulled out the jack and turned toward them.

"Let's go," she said, taking the cue from the bot.

But something caught the corner of Joey's eye, and he boldly lunged for Isellia, grabbing her around her waist. "Wait!" he shouted in a whisper.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Isellia yelled, stopping and shoving him to the ground. Joey tried to stammer a response but the fall took his wind.

"Laser sensor," robot said, pointing. "'Detection would = imminent.'"

The anger dropped from Isellia's face as she noticed the tiny beam. "Hey, sure enough. I knew I brought you along for something." She turned to Joey grinning.

"Thanks," he grunted, picking himself up off the alley floor.

"Can you disable it?" Isellia asked in a faux pleading tone.

"Affirmative," the robot responded. The robot stood doing nothing as Isellia's expression grew from hopeful to impatient.

"Well?" She finally yelled.

"Robot, please disable the device," Joey said.

"Understood." The robot got down next to the box producing the almost invisible laser, and within seconds the laser was gone.

"You have to be careful what you say. It only understands your words literally," Joey explained.

"Yeah, well, it is literally irritating the snot out of me. Come on," Isellia said.

Just as Joey passed between the gate, he thought he noticed a small figure in the far end of the alley, small and pale. As he looked closer, it was gone.

***

The blue-green Sasugan planet edged its way farther in the sky now, its dome a backdrop against the piles and piles of scrap metal, hulls of old, rusting ships, and the occasional new ship which had turned out to be a lemon for some unfortunate owner or the shipyard it was returned to. The lights were out on the Sasugan station, despite the fact that it always basically night on the station, even during the "day," and only the light from the planet illuminated the junkyard in harsh shadows that juxtaposed with the station's cityscape shining in the distance.

Joey, however, had been a little too concerned about what it was he was doing, to appreciate the scene. While he could appreciate the novelty of all he saw, the nag of his self-preservation instinct kept telling him to run the entire distance back to their host family's house, and never mention this to anyone again. Then again, he wasn't entirely confident he could find his way back on the unfamiliar streets, and being lost on the station, alone, unnerved him more than anything.

Joey, of course, was no stranger to junkyards — the colony had its own, comprised of discarded parts from Company C ships and factories, many of its discardings just as wasteful as this site seemed to be. From many afternoons spent salvaging while his mother toiled in the factories, Joey had a pretty good idea how to navigate a junkyard, how to test his steps to ensure solid footing, and had a sharp eye for the useful. The yard, which was only a yard in name alone, since the actual ground was buried under yards of metal, contained much that Joey didn't recognize.

"Aha!" Isellia whisper-shouted, pointing beyond their position. A ship similar to Isellia's, minus its wings and cockpit window, was buried nose-first in a mountain of junk.

"It's almost like yours," Joey said, recognizing the shape.

"Watch your mouth," Isellia snapped at him, still in a whisper that didn't diminish the sharpness of her tone. "Don't insult my ship by comparing it to that junk heap!"

"Sorry!" Joey said, putting up his hands.

Isellia's grimace disappeared in an instant as she turned toward the "junk-heap." "Now, let's go shopping," she said, nearly skipping through the rubble.

"Shopping = Paying for items?" Robot asked.

"No, she—" Joey began, unsure how to finish. "Nevermind." The robot stood silently blinking.

Joey and the robot sat under the moonlight as Isellia dug under the rusting ship for the cooling coils, asking for various tools by a single name from a small toolbox she brought; no "please," or "would you mind," or "if it's not too much trouble." That wasn't her way, and anyway it didn't bother Joey. In a matter of minutes, she emerged from under the ship victoriously, holding the coils in her arms with a smile beaming on her face.

"Wow, I can't believe how easy that was!" She said, examining the coils. "They're in mint condish! And this is high-end too! I can't believe someone would... oh." Isellia dropped the coiling coils on the junkyard floor. Her excitement disappeared from her face.

"What's wrong?" Joey asked, somewhat frightened by her expression.

"It's junk. Look underneath."

Joey picked up the coils, examining their smooth, chrome surface. This was indeed a quality part, though he soon saw what Isellia did: hairline cracks in one of the tubes. "It's no good like that," Isellia said.

Joey handed the part back to her and couldn't suppress the smile at knowing he could be helpful. "I can fix it."

Isellia's eyebrow raised. "Huh? You can fix it? How?" She eyed him suspiciously. Hairline cracks in cooling coils always meant they were ready for the scrapheap — they were too dangerous to use in that condition.

"I fixed stuff like this all the time. Mr. Twitters and I built everything out of junk." He walked over to the robot. "Just look at robot's battery door." Isellia leaned in really close, peering at what would amount to the robot's stomach if it were human. She looked at Joey. "Where?"

Joey pointed triumphantly. "There was a hairline crack right down the middle. Robot was holding its battery in with its hand when I met him. I fixed other stuff on him too..."

Isellia looked back at the robot's battery door, then back at Joey. Her expression recharged her excitement, and she beamed at Joey. She suddenly grabbed hold of him in a hug, squeezing him so hard he could hardly breathe. He felt a hot flush of embarrassment wash through his whole body, to be so close to her, to smell her scent, which was decidedly feminine. He felt her softer side pressed against him, something he was far from ready to experience.

"I knew I brought you along for something," she said, then shoved him away as quickly as she embraced him. "Well, they won't miss it. It was junk anyway, right? Okay, now we can get out of here." Suddenly her grin dropped into a frown and her eyebrows furrowed. "Just as soon as we find out..." she said in a long, drawn-out fashion as she walked toward where a small spacecraft's nose stuck out of the rubble. She reached behind and pulled out someone — the small, pale girl Joey had noticed in the distance earlier.

Isellia shoved her in the middle of the party. "...who this is," Isellia said, finally finishing her sentence, which came out far less dramatic than she intended it. "And why she's following us!"

***

Joey recognized the pale, young girl from the docking bay — the one who ran up to Fina while she talked with Porter. She sat between them all, staring down between her feet, hugging her knees and shaking with fear.

Isellia glared at her, unmoved by her condition, pacing cross-armed like an inquisitor. She stopped, bending down so that her face was inches from the young girl's, causing her to recoil even more. Compared side-by-side like that, Joey guessed she was closer to his age than Isellia's. She continued shivering but didn't dare look up at Isellia.

"Who the heck are you?" Isellia asked, involuntarily tapping her foot.

"Isellia, you're scaring her," Joey whispered, empathizing with the poor girl, who clearly wasn't any kind of threat. Sometimes Isellia scared him, too.

The girl looked up at Isellia briefly, as though she would answer, then resumed her defensive posture.

"Robot, translate."

The robot translated into flawless, emotionless Sasugan. It's speech was technically perfect, more so than any Sasugan could manage, but far more lifeless.

She looked at the robot like she might answer it, then turned to Isellia. "I... am... Ayuuk," she said shakily in Common, without any translation. Her pronunciation was flawless, and she might have sounded human if not for her lack of confidence. Maybe more like Stephen.

Joey and Isellia looked at each other in surprise. "She speaks Common like us," Joey said.

"Well, thank you for pointing out the obvious, professor!" Isellia snapped sarcastically. The robot began translating this into Sasugan as well.

"You can stop translating, metal head!" Isellia shouted. The robot stopped mid-sentence.

"Alright, you," Isellia said, resuming her interrogation of the diminutive Sasugan. "Why are you following us?"

She looked to be on the verge of speaking, pausing to find the right translation. "D-D-Dangerous," she finally muttered.

"Yeah, it's going to be if you don't tell us more about—"

Joey cut her off. "No, I think she's trying to warn us about something."

Isellia cocked her head. "Warn us? Warn us about what?"

Ayuuk struggled with her next words, stuttering for what seemed an eternity to the rest of the party. Before she could finish, a large crash of metal on metal, like a ship's hull being twisted like a rag, roared in the distance. Everyone looked around, startled, as more and more crashes, each one sounding closer, reached their ears. Finally, a huge mechanical foot comprised of metal yet moving organically, crashed into the mound of junk they had been hiding behind. The leg was followed by a face like a tyrannosaurus rex, with saw-like metal teeth and a rusted snout that looked like it was once a small ship's fuselage. It surveyed the party with eyes like floodlights, little lasers seared out of its eyes, scanning the junk plateau.

Isellia caught the flux coils she nearly dropped, but couldn't catch her dropping jaw. "Oh," was all she could utter.

***

A ferocious metallic roar reverberated through the junkyard, vibrating the metal scraps beneath their feet and lifting the hair on Isellia, Joey and Ayuuk's neck as they scrambled over the piles of metal and plastic that littered the junkyard's floor. Joey's heart pounded in his chest; he'd never seen anything quite so terrifying in his life. The beast was impossibly big, yet its rusted metal chassis moved with the fluidity of a skeleton brought to life. His mind couldn't comprehend how this could actually exist in reality, and he didn't exactly have time to sort it out while scrambling over junk piles, cutting his hands on stray electrical wires and sharp metal cooling fins, to avoid the chomping saw blades that were the beast's teeth. The beast's teeth were the only part that wasn't covered in rust; they shone like a polished sword, the blue-green dome of the planet reflecting in the corner of each one.

The metal junkbeast's huge hind legs crushed poly-aluminum and space-grade glass under its weight in the very spot Joey had been sitting moments ago. It stopped roaring and paused for a moment, surveying its prey as the three desperately tried to distance themselves from the beast.

Then Joey started to slow as something occurred to him.

"Hurry up, you wanna get eaten?" Isellia shrieked back at him, incredulous that he would consider slowing.

"Robot," he said, looking back. The others had run, but the robot stood its ground, ROU drawn and trained on the metal monster.

"Huh?" Isellia asked, and she started to slow too, staring back at the robot. "What's that metal-brain doing?" Only Ayuuk continued to run at full speed.

The beast, however, paid no mind to the robot, as if it couldn't see it at all; instead, it stared ahead at the party, seeming ready to pounce in the direction of its laser beam eyes.

"Oh crap," Isellia muttered, as she saw the beast rear back on its large hind legs.

Just when the monster had crouched back all the way, its jaws open in anticipation, the robot fired its ROU, sending a laser blast in the direction of its head. The beast, which had been completely concentrated on moving forward, was caught by surprise and the force of the blast knocked it on its side as it lunged, sending piles of discarded spaceship parts flying in a cloud above the junkyard. The beast skidded on its side, twisting its feet over its head as it came to a stop left of the robot. It writhed on the ground in shock, but quickly regained its senses and started working itself back on its feet.

Isellia wasted no time, grabbing Joey's hand and dragging him forward. "Now's our chance," she said, and the two were off before the monster regained its footing.

They hadn't been running long before Ayuuk met them running back the other way.

"Here," she said, indicating with her head the intended direction, in the manner of Sasugans.

"Sounds good to me," Isellia said, dragging Joey in the direction Ayuuk pointed.

But Joey broke free of her grasp and stood his ground. "What about the robot? We can't just leave him!"

"Yes we can!" Isellia yelled. "Move it!"

Joey turned to go back. "Not without robot!" Joey yelled, but then stopped. A large metal object was flying directly at him. "Robot?"

What happened next was a flash that, even after the fact, Joey had trouble remembering. Later on he would recall, with some uncertainty, that Ayuuk grabbed on to him, and he remembered tumbling to the ground to avoid the crashing, tooth-marked robot, and perhaps tripping, or jumping, he wasn't sure; but no one else, including Ayuuk and Isellia, would ever buy that story again. The truth of the matter, if there ever was such a truth, would never be known. Or rather, the truth is what is remembered, and forever, as far as anyone is concerned, Joey elevated his status to that of a hero that day in the junkyard, whether deserved or not, in the mind of two young women.

As Joey shook his head, he looked up to see Isellia sprawled on the other side of him, Ayuuk somewhat underneath him, and the robot laying in a heap against a wall of junk, saw-like tooth marks scaring his now dusty chassis. Its green light still flashed and bleeped as always, and Joey realized the damage must be almost entirely external.

He looked down and noticed that Ayuuk was staring at him, more intently than she had ever dared. "You save me," she said, in a voice more confident than usual, though still somehow small.

"I... I didn't," Joey stammered.

"We're not saved yet," Isellia said, springing to her feet. The robot was already recovered and on its feet, ROU trained in the ever-growing stomping of the junkasaur, which looked like it was gearing up for another lunge. "Let's go!"

***

Joey, Ayuuk and Isellia were already scrambling in the direction Ayuuk had pointed out when the monster arrived at their location, met with blasts from the robot's ROU. It was now meeting them head on, and the lasers did little to damage the monster's chassis, other than scorch the rust that coated it. It jolted the monster back, but the junkasaur was aware of the blasts and adjusted its balance so it stayed on its feet. The element of surprise the robot had on the first attack was now gone. The robot could only show its advance.

"Robot!" Joey yelled, as Isellia dragged him away. She grabbed him roughly by his shirt, bringing his wide-eyed face inches away from hers.

"Listen to me. We need to get out of here, now! That thing can take a lot more than we can. It will catch up, and if we stay here we're all dead. Now go!" Joey barely had time to nod assent as Isellia shoved him in the direction of Ayuuk, who waited up ahead nervously. Soon they were both giving chase to the young Sasugan.

Despite her frail appearance, Ayuuk proved surprisingly nimble, navigating the piles of junk with the ease of an expert mountain climber. Isellia and Joey huffed and puffed as they followed her darting, quick form, struggling to keep the pace.

Just as they were about to collapse in exhaustion at the effort, Ayuuk stopped before one particular junk heap. Joey and Isellia both stopped, breathing hard with their hands on their knees. Isellia kept looking back in the direction they'd come, as the blasts from the robot's ROU, now too far away to be heard, lit the sky dimly in the distance.

"Here," Ayuuk pointed, indicating the heap they had stopped in front of. She stood proudly, seeming to search Joey's face for approval.

"Here? What are you talking about? There's nothing there! Come on, we gotta go," Isellia said, nearly recovering her breath as she struck out.

"No, wait," Joey said, looking closer at the junk heap. "I think I see what she means."

Ayyuk smiled and bounced slightly up and down unconsciously, as Sasugans are wont to do when they become happy. Joey approached the heap and noticed the door of a freighter, though all but a small, human-sized hole concealed it from view; the rest surrounded by cables, braces and other random parts.

Isellia noticed now, too, and walked back to the party. "Where does this lead?" she asked Ayuuk, who still appeared somewhat intimidated by her.

"Outside," she said. Before Isellia could ask how that could possibly be, considering they were far away from the main wall, Ayuuk had pushed some unseen button and was already scrambling into the hole through the freighter door.

Joey and Isellia looked at each other briefly.

"Well, I guess this is our way out," Isellia said. "Climb in."

But Joey was looking back at laser-lit sky behind them. "Will he be okay?" Joey asked in manner mature for his age.

"It'll be fine!"

"How do you know?" Joey looked at Isellia pleadingly.

"We were the problem, Joey. We were slowing it down. Once it doesn't have to protect us, it can do whatever it has to. Now come on, how many times do I have to say this?"

Joey paused a moment.

"How are we going to explain this to Porter?"

Isellia sighed, exasperated. "I don't know. I'll make something up? Come on, come on, come on!"

Before Joey could protest any further, Isellia was already climbing into the hole. Joey followed quickly behind.

## Chapter 10

Arex followed her. He wanted to know.

***

A wave of light, of energy, of matter, emerged from a singular point of origin, engulfing the key, the robot, the ship, and outward, its perimeter ever widening into space.

And then there was darkness.

And then...

***

Predictably, she walked through the manager's section of town, through the high rises and expensive lofts, past 24-hour style salons and instant suit replacement. Image is everything in the financial sector, and money is to be made on instant repairs to that image, like a race car driver taking a pit stop. Time is money; the faster the better.

Arex watched her enter a small building tucked away beneath a larger skyscraper vista, a small, uninteresting door with tacky neon awnings in the style of an ancient Chinese roof, like might have been found on Old Earth. The door closed and all that was left in sight was the downward flow of the awning's neon.

He couldn't go inside; she'd know he'd followed her. He'd wait for her, while he thought about the day's lesson. He'd never hated her; not really. He didn't quite understand his feelings toward her, but she dredged up all his anger about the class differential he saw around him every day. He knew it wasn't fair to her, but sometimes he just couldn't stop.

He waited, and he thought some more.

***

"Are you sure you're up to this, robot?" Joey checked the robot's space fittings one last time, more to calm his nervous compulsion than any real use. There wasn't the danger to a machine that a human would experience out in the void. The robot was built to space standards, unlike a human.

"Problem, there is not," the robot said. "Are you toast for breakfast?"

Joey couldn't help but laugh despite his concern. He was, after all, still very young. "Sure, robot, toast sounds good." He knew there was no toast on board the ship, or at least no bread. Where did he get that from? "Are you ready to launch?"

"Robot is steady, ready, Freddy, leady... meddy... keddy..."

"I get it, robot, you're ready to go." It had been making these random sentences since the incident, putting together strange constructions and making random references, some Joey was familiar with — many he was not. Everyone else had been concerned about its functionality, but Joey enjoyed the new robot, even if it was a little strange.

"I'll clear the bay, and then open the bay doors, and then you're out, okay?"

"Kay-Oh!" the robot said, its metallic timbre rising on the "oh."

Joey ran to the cargo bay door, stifling his grin at the silly robot. He watched the robot crouched on the launch pad as the doors closed shut. With the push of a few buttons, the bay doors opened, revealing the vastness of space. Looking out the doors it appeared as if he were launching the robot into empty space; but he knew the sensors had indicated the one particular point in space that was the cause of this entire episode. The ship had not yet failed him, and his electronic trust was in full force; and he trusted the robot.

Joey gripped the hasshin-cortez lever and paused a second before pushing it forward. The platform the robot crouched on gradually slid forward, gaining speed until it reached the edge of the ship, then stopped abruptly, launching the robot into space.

The robot changed its position mid-flight, releasing from the crouch position, spreading its arms into a T and flattening its legs. It looked to Joey like it was imitating a bird in flight. There was no need; no aerodynamic advantage to be had in the vacuum of space. Joey liked it just the same.

Soon the robot neared its destination. Its magnetic poles realigned, zeroing in on the gravity of the object that only the robot could find. The robot could calculate the location of the point in space it sought by calculating its minute magnetic effect on its chassis. It could sense its presence.

Soon the robot locked on target, and one of its arms snapped forward, a small inlet opened in its finger that pointed forward. The robot suddenly jerked to a stop, colliding with the unseen device. All went quiet with the robot, save for a small blue light that flashed rhythmically in its LED display.

And then...

A wave of light, of energy, of matter, emerged from a singular point, engulfing the key, the robot, the ship, and outward, its perimeter ever widening into space.

And then...

***

He followed her back through the alleyways in which they came, past homeless people lying in the sidewalk, always half awake while they slept, should Company C police patrols appear suddenly to take them away, as they often do. Her shoes collected the dirt and grime of the workers' section of town, caked their metallic white surfaces, dulling them against the sheen of manager-class apparel. She carried a small box of food.

Then she turned.

Arex paused a little himself, poised at the edge of the alleyway he knew to lead into one of the worst parts of town. She continued on, undaunted. What was she doing in this part of town? He wondered. The Ikaburo section was considered the most dangerous in the settlement; even those in the worker class wouldn't venture there. For the daughter of a manager class, it was practically suicide.

She took another turn, and Arex waited, instinctively knowing this was her destination, unconsciously observing her stride slow, her steps lighten. She stopped in front of a small street-level apartment, its door right on the alleyway, as many of the worker class apartments are. An old man with a still-full shock of white hair answered the door, slowly.

"Oh, hello young lady," he said in a feeble, kindly voice.

"Hi," she said. "I brought you something." She cheerfully handed him the box she had carried from the storefront.

"Oh, you're too kind. Are you sure it's OK?"

"Of course," she said cheerfully. "I owe you my life."

The old man laughed, a deep hearty laugh that always bordered on sounding like wheezing, leaving the young to wonder which it was. "You don't owe me anything, dear. You shouldn't venture to this side of town. They leave this old man alone, but a young lady like you..."

She blushed, looking at the ground somewhat sheepishly. "It's OK. You need this stuff."

"I appreciate this," the old man said. "But you should forget about me. I'll be gone soon. I can feel it. Anyway—"

"I could never forget you!" she burst out, rushing to embrace him before remembering his feebleness, checking herself at the last minute. "If it weren't for you, I—"

As she hugged him, the man looked out of the corner of his eye at the street. Arex hid a little further behind the building he leered from. Had he been seen?

"Well, you shouldn't have played on the tracks at any rate. All I did was what any decent human would have. I appreciate it, but you haven't had to come all these years. For some old worker class guy."

"I don't care about that. Why should that matter?" She became indignant, though it wasn't meant at him. She looked down, used to losing that argument where she was from.

He snorted, then glanced about. "Well, you should run home, young lady. It's dangerous for you here."

"Okay," she said. She'd begun to tear up. Somehow, for reasons she couldn't have articulated, she knew it was probably the last time she'd see him.

He winked at her, then shut the door. She was too deep in thought, too overcome with emotion to pay the usual attention her surroundings demanded. She didn't see them circling like vultures, didn't react by moving quickly and purposefully as she had all these years.

She didn't, anyway.

***

Joey looked over his fitting job one more time, making sure all the seals for space exposure were in place and tightened. The robot could likely survive without them, but insurance is never a bad thing. Joey ran the hyperdriver into the screw joint one last time to make sure it was snug, then stepped back to admire his work.

"Are you sure you're up to this, robot?" Joey checked the robot's space fit levels one last time, more to calm his nervous compulsion than any real use. There wasn't the danger to a machine that a human would experience in the void. The robot was built to space standards, unlike a human.

"Problem, there is not," the robot said. "Are you toast for breakfast?"

***

"We just need to access the keypoint," Porter said, trying hard not to look at the robot even though it was the obvious answer. The robot's makers equipped it with the ability to interface with an almost limitless variety of sources. If anything stood a chance of getting them into the server, it was the robot.

A week ago he would have suggested the robot instantly, referring to it like he would have any other part on the ship – but now, it was different, somehow. Everyone began reacting to the robot as if it were a person: giving it space, not referring to it while it was in the room.

Even Isellia acted different — she looked on edge in the machine's presence and saved her biting sarcasm for its absence. Isellia also displayed a certain curiosity toward the robot, watching it when it wasn't looking (though its sensors could take in the entire periphery), observing its actions. She even displayed a certain sympathy toward it, like she might toward any other member of the crew who'd been assaulted. In her own way.

"If I ever find One-Lung Alice, she'll be called No-Lung Alice when I'm finished," she said often, always in the robot's presence, punching a bulkhead wall on the "no." The robot at first repeated the the word no-lung the first time she said it, punching the bulkhead and denting a beam on the ship. Joey, emotional from the empathy Isellia displayed, explained that his actions were neither efficient nor prudent. From then on when Isellia repeated her mantra, the robot simply nodded in acknowledgement — the same thing Porter had done.

The robot had begun imitating them a lot, actually. It followed Joey around, curious at everything it did. It observed Isellia fixing things, monitoring the ship's systems. She mostly let it, save for the time it tried to observe her in the shower, after which she shooed it out with a swat and told it to watch Joey instead. The robot didn't know why Isellia wanted that particular memory erased, but obliged none the less.

It also had wandered into Rex and the assassin's training session — they didn't pay it much mind, continuing their practice until they noticed it imitate their movements better then any first-year student could. After it kept showing up in their makeshift training hall, they decided to experiment, first demonstrating some light sparring then using steel beams to attack it. Once the robot came within inches of landing a blow on Rex's chest — one that would have torn a hole in his sternum had it landed — they decided to wait on teaching it any more moves. They didn't stop it from observing and imitating, however.

None of the crew quite knew whether they should ethically be able to ask the robot what they wanted to do — since they wouldn't know what would happen when they did or whether they would be able to get the robot back after they were done.

They didn't exactly know if it was self-aware, but they sure didn't know that it wasn't.

"Cake," the robot said suddenly, surprising a crew that had gotten used to surprises from their mechanical friend lately.

"What?" Joey asked, puzzled.

"It is cake," the robot said matter-of-factly. It looked up at them curiously, cocking its cranial unit, then went back to a servo it was examining.

"What is cake?" Porter asked.

"Dilema. Solution. ...Cake."

Isellia rolled her eyes and slapped herself in the head. She looked around, realizing she was the first to figure it out. "Duh. You mean piece of cake. Right, robot? You're saying the solution to our problem is easy, right?"

"Yes, cake." the robot said. "Have it and eat it. Too."

The crew chuckled, wondering where it was getting these expressions.

"So if the solution is so easy, what is it, Mr. Robot?" the assassin asked, leaning against the left-side terminal casually.

"Robot will activate the keypoint."

Porter felt relieved that he didn't have to ask, but Joey looked worried. "Are you sure, robot?"

"Probability of success is high. It is not on the charts."

Joey was too worried to pay much attention to his misinterpretation of the expression. "I can fit you for this, robot, but... are you sure...?"

The robot looked up at Joey, cocking its head a moment as if considering the syntax.

"It is decided," the robot said.

***

Arex charged at the first thug to grab Sophie — before she could even scream he was out of his hiding spot and running with all the strength he could muster. It was hardly his first fight — his big mouth got him into trouble more times than he could count, and he'd figured a few things out from the number of beatings he took. One of the things he learned is to take advantage of the element of surprise — you only get it once in a fight. He nearly slammed into the man, a hulking tough in jeans and a ripped T-shirt and shimmer-hawk, when he noticed the resigned look on her face.

Too late to change direction. Thud.

Arex thumped into the guy with all his might, running at a full tilt before lowering his head to get as much angle underneath the meathead as he could. Even with the right angle and speed, however he felt like he'd slammed into a solid wall, recoiling back onto the pavement. The thug grunted in surprise but only staggered back a step or two.

The other thug, in a poly breaker-suit that bounced the wind more than guided it, had seen Arex coming but recognized instantly the lack of threat the young man represented.

"Arex!" Sophie shouted, surprised for the first time.

"Damnit," Arex muttered, lying on the ground. He quickly sprung to his feet, but the thug was faster, grabbing his shirt and dragging him to his toes. Arex took a few futile swings but they just glanced off the thug's arms, which seemed impossibly hard.

"Who the hell's this little potser, S?" The thug all but ignored Arex as he thrashed to get free.

"He's..." Sophie looked at Arex, considering what to say. Why'd he come here? "He's a friend."

"Hmmph," the thug snorted. "Not a very smart one." At this Arex thrashed harder, and the thug had to hold his grip a little tighter.

"Please, just let him go," she begged. "He doesn't have anything to do with this. I've done what you said. I always have."

Arex looked at Celia in disbelief. What was she mixed up in?

"Sorry. You run items for us, we let you feed that old man. That's the deal. You don't get anymore favors. There ain't nothing that can stop him from getting the beating he's earned."

The thug slammed Arex to the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could start to get up, the first thug kicked him, lifting him like a soccer ball with the bottom of his feet and sending him sprawling. He yelled out before hitting in a thud.

"Just, please stop," Sophie screamed, tugging on the other thug's shirt sleeve. "Please, just let him go."

The thug looked down at her and smirked. "Oh, didn't know he was that important to ya. Hmm. But you wasn't supposed to be followed. Maybe I oughta take it out on you."

The other thug forgot Arex and turned to watch. Sophie lowered her head and shut her eyes, not wanting to see the blow coming. She accepted it, but the fear of what was to come sent her shivering.

"No!" Arex shouted. The two men turned to see Arex standing on his feet, more or less. Blood streaked down his chin, which he tried unsuccessfully to wipe off with the back of his hand. "Leave her alone."

"Arex, just run away," Sophie said, while the thugs laughed heartily. "Just go!"

"Nope, I'm not going anywhere." He started to walk toward the group.

"Just go. Why would you stay? Why would you help me? You hate me!"

Arex grinned at her, a grin she'd noticed before and always dreamed would be directed at her.

"Like the old man said, we're classmates, right?"

The thug with the shimmer-hawk grabbed Sophie and threw her to the ground. "Enough of this. You shoulda left when you had the chance, you little dip. This isn't even gonna be fun, it'll be so easy."

Arex had been faking the severity of his injuries, and he pounced quickly when the thug was in range, striking a blow on the nose. The brute staggered back a little, but shook it off quickly enough to shift enough to catch Arex's groin shot on the left hip instead, where it did little damage. He punched Arex in the head, sending him sprawling to the street.

Arex had never been hit so hard in his life, and when he looked up, his vision blurred, continually shifting, never settling still. The thug held his nose.

"Well go finish off the little bastard already, wouldya!" The second man shouted, shoving the hired muscle forward.

The man needed little prodding and started kicking Arex repeatedly, until he no longer had the strength to try to block the blows at all. Sophie begged, pleaded, told them she'd do anything if they'd only stop, but he continued until at last Arex wasn't moving.

"Punk little bastard," the man said, spitting on his lifeless form.

As soon as he finished talking, a laser blast cut into the side of the thug's arm, singeing the fabric and making a slight cut on his arm. The man wheeled around in surprise, nursing his arm.

"Get the hell outta here," said an elderly voice behind them.

"Mr. Kitsba!" Sophie said.

Arex lifted his head slightly, wincing at every move he made. "Mr... Kitsba?"

"You just signed your own death warrant, old man!" The thug winced as he rubbed the side of his arm.

The old man chuckled. "Doesn't mean much to someone who's nearly dead anyway." He fired another shot near the thug's feet. "Come and get me motherfuckers."

"Mr. Kitsba..." Sophie muttered, a tear coming down her cheek.

"Word of advice: I don't miss unless on purpose, you little punks. Tell your boss to come for me. Always dreamed I'd take a few of you shits with me before I kick outta here." Kitsba spat on the alley bright white pavement.

"You're dead, old man," the muscle said as he left.

"Don't I know it," Kitsba said, leaning a little harder on his cane after they were out of eye sight.

"Mr. Kitsba..." Sophie said, running up to him.

"Don't worry about me. I got one foot in the grave already. That young man's pert near dead. Better get him some help."

"But those guys..."

"Whatever their hold on you, I'll make sure it's gone. Just never show that pretty little face of yours around these parts ever again."

"But... I can't..."

"Now don't give me no lip, sweatheart. You make sure that young man stays outta here too. I got a couple favors I never called in — might as well get some use outta them. If you can get him two blocks down, you can get a taxi. Now go."

Sophie looked at Arex, then ran to give the man a hug. He didn't chide her, but stroked her hair gently.

"Never was one as gentle as you," he said softly, stroking her hair as she sobbed. "Never in all my years. Not where you come from. Gives an old man some hope."

Then he shoved her away. "Alright, yer makin' me soft. Get that kid outta here. Take care of him, huh?"

She didn't say anything, but nodded. With tears in her eyes, she dragged him moaning down the street.

***

It had been awhile since Joey had thought about his mother, and now he was worried.

He'd left her on the colony to take off with this crew, who now headed toward a point in space no one seemed to be able to say much about. He wondered what she would think about what they were doing — not that he had any idea exactly what they were doing. He thought she would be proud of him, piloting a space ship. She'd probably be worried, but not show it in that way she did whenever he did something crazy back on the colony.

Joey looked over at Porter, who watched the viewscreen silently. Porter told the story about Babel IX — not much of his story really described what it was like. Rex and the assassin didn't say much about why they wanted to go there, and Porter didn't press. Had they been there? He didn't know that either.

He looked over at Porter, considering asking him more - but the look on his face told him that he wouldn't get much answers. He had the look that Mr. Twitters rarely got when he was thoroughly flummoxed by something. Joey sighed, checking the controls.

He didn't stay silent long, however. Soon the beacon on the monitor told Joey that he was approaching the coordinates.

"Sir, we're here," Joey said, looking at Porter's face for a reaction.

Porter shook as if just woken from a deep sleep. "Oh, is that so? I should alert the others."

As if on cue, the assassin strolled onto the bridge, checking the monitor over Joey's shoulder. She leaned over his chair, arching her back with the grace she had become known for. Porter noticed he couldn't stop looking at her, but it wasn't her body — at least not entirely — that drew his attention.

"Looks like we'll be there soon." The assassin lengthened in a stretch, yawned a little, then resumed her normal posture.

Porter eyed her with one eyebrow cocked. "Any idea of what we're going to encounter in this, um, server?"

The assassin didn't say anything but looked him up and down with the same grin on her face that she walked in with. After a moment, she shrugged, and ruffled Joey's hair. Joey found this strangely comforting, despite the fact that the strange woman still made him quite uncomfortable.

Joey's inquisitive nature overcame his nervousness around the woman in black. "So, how do we get in?" He asked, looking back over his head at her.

She smiled at him, not an unwarm one, but it was Rex who entered the bridge, followed by the robot, who answered. "Every room has a way in, every castle has a gate, every lock has a key. We just need to access the keypoint."

"The keypoint?" Joey asked. "What's a keypoint? How do we do that?"

Both Rex and the assassin looked at the robot.

Joey looked from them to the robot and back. "Oh."

***

Arex woke in a room that seemed impossibly white — bed sheets that were clean to the touch and felt slightly metallic — an expensive material hospitals use because they are durable and easy to sterilize. A semi-translucent shield blocked off his portion of the room from the other patients. Nurses in white and red body suit uniforms that covered everything but their faces were able to pass through the shield but harmful bacteria were not.

He noticed he could not move, at least not without a great deal of pain. He tried to reach up to his face to wipe his eyes, but a searing pain shot through his arm. He winced, and left his arm where it was.

He looked over to his other arm to see if that too was broken, and saw Sophie, staring at him with worried eyes — but there was something else in them too, he thought later. At the moment he managed a grin at her presence.

"You're awake," she said in a very small voice.

"Very observant of you," he said before coughing, which hurt his broken ribs and caused him to wince in pain some more.

She continued staring at him, expressionless though he tried to shrug it off. "You're not so tough, you know."

Arex looked at her surprised for a moment, before adjusting himself on the bed. "Jeez, just cause a guy gets beat up..."

"That's not what I mean." She looked down, staring at what appeared to be a ticket. It would disappear when she used it, but until she did it would remain as solid as a paper ticket once used on Old Earth.

She looked up at him a moment, then back down as a tear formed at the corner of her eye. "Thank you," she said.

He looked at her. "What, for getting my butt kicked?" he tried to joke, but after seeing her face, even he couldn't maintain a muerous facade.

One of the white-clad nurses entered the room through the curtain-shield, not paying much attention to the mood of the room while she checked the display on a monitor that displayed itself on the blank wall behind his bed. Her left leg had a small blood stain on it, which she would later get rid of in an insta-shower.

"I'm going to put you back out," the nurse said, glancing only briefly at Arex. She clicked a button under his bedding unit and left through the same curtain-shield, probably to clear the bloodstain, Arex thought.

Sophie stood up, putting her hand on Arex's. She smiled at him, in a manner mature for her age. "You and I aren't that different, you know." She patted his arm.

Arex, surprised by her tone, simply nodded in reply as the sedative began to take effect.

She became blurry, and the white room began to blur, then fade to black.

Years later he would wonder if it was goodbye that she said to him as he slipped under.

***

A wave of light, of energy, of matter, emerged from a singular point of light, engulfing the key, the robot, the ship, and outward, its perimeter ever widening into space.

And then there was darkness.

And then...

Be sure to check out Part II, due out Sept. 1! In the meantime, log on to www.bckowalski.com to see all the latest updates, follow me on Twitter @BC_Kowalski and please leave a review on Amazon: http://amzn.to/1ldmt76 Thanks for reading!

## Chapter 8

Joey had nearly succumbed to the space doldrums that plagued him the entire trip when the words "I.S.S. 457" flashed in a little green box above an arrow pointing to a small dot on the viewscreen. Joey's face glowed green at regular intervals as he watched it blink.

"I.S.S. 457," Joey read, turning in his chair. "Is this it?"

Porter nodded, as he hunched over a console at the far end of the ship. "That's it. Set a landing pattern."

Joey punched at the controls that had become so familiar in the last few weeks — he wouldn't yet call himself an expert, but he was getting the hang of it. The station didn't have the same level of automation the Sasugan station did, but Joey knew enough to adapt to the more manual control.

"We're being directed to bay 413," Joey said.

"Good job," Porter said, giving him an approving smile. Joey looked back at his controls — his confidence continued to grow the longer he sat in front of the console.

Porter walked up behind him, placing his hand on Joey's shoulder. Joey recoiled instinctively, then relaxed and accepted the gesture.

Porter took no notice of this, or at least didn't show it. "Know anything about the inter-star system station configuration?" he asked, double checking the controls without making it obvious what he was doing.

"The what?" Joey asked.

"It's one of the few places Company C hasn't got its hands into. And they don't take any profit either."

"Really?" asked Joey. He'd never heard of another company that wasn't in some way tied to Company C. And no profit?

"The stations were started by the Dea, one of the first species in the galaxy to achieve inter-star system travel," Porter said, seeming to take on a professorial posture. It seemed unfamiliar and strange to Joey. "As other species gained the ability to travel between star systems, they gradually started using the stations too. They're completely supported by the governments of those that patronize them. Also on the support of others who stop at the station. It's one of the last entities in the galaxy not to be corporatized. All profits support the upkeep of the infrastructure, and as such it's one of the last free markets operating on a socio-capitalist structure..."

Porter paused when he looked at Joey, who looked like a 12-year-old confronted by the theory of relativity. "Oh. Well, you get the idea."

Joey's brow furrowed. "What are the Dea like? Are they like the Sasugans?"

"You can buzz them when we're in port - there're plenty of history portals dedicated to them. They're long since extinct, however."

"Extinct? You mean they're all gone?"

"That's right."

"What happened to them?"

Porter paused for a moment. "There's a few theories on that. No one knows for sure, since they've been gone so long. Heard on the buzz that they found a new document, claims there was some kind of cosmic accident. Another theory says they're still around, but fled the galaxy. Mostly, I think they integrated with other species."

"Oh," Joey said, face scrunched into deep thought. "So then who's in charge?"

"Well, anybody."

"What do you mean anybody?"

"Well, if you work there you have the ability to be on the board. And anyone can work there if they want."

Joey frowned. "Oh."

"What's the matter?" Joey looked at the floor of the spaceship, as if he'd heard the words "lima beans."

"Elections are kinda pointless. Aren't they?" He looked up to Porter for a reaction.

"Why do you say that?"

Joey was silent for a moment. Porter didn't intercede but studied him with interest.

"Well, my mom used to say that elections are just a means of the company picking who they want anyway. She always said they were a farce. Like a nice idea that got turned into something much worse."

"An illusion of power?" Porter asked.

"Yeah, I guess." It was the first time since he'd left his home that he'd mentioned her. The excitement and novelty of space travel, coupled with his duties on the ship pushed his memories toward the back of his mind. But she was never far from his thoughts, he realized — even if he didn't mention her out loud.

"You miss her, huh?" Porter said, his enormous hand giving Joey a sympathetic squeeze. A tear fell from his eye, absorbing and spreading into a small, nearly round circle on his pant leg. He didn't look up nor did he answer, though Porter understood perfectly. Joey wiped it off with the back of his shirt sleeve, sniffling a little in an effort to conceal his tears.

"I'm sure she's okay, Joey," he said. "Your mom asked us to take care of you, and that's what we're going to do."

He let Joey have a moment, thinking about the woman who came to him for help, coughing and barely keeping herself together. She had a resiliency, one that Joey seemed to carry inside of him as well. "Come on, let's get this ship into port, huh?"

Joey swallowed, his throat feeling tight, and attempted to mimic Porter's assuredness. "Yes sir," he managed to stammer with a wavering sobbing voice.

***

Joey eased the ship into an empty space in a row of similar-sized space vessels which seemed to stretch for longer than the eye could see. He'd flown the ship past rows and rows of ships much like the one in which he'd just parked — sections devoted to large cruiser-type vessels to tiny craft it was hard to believe could make an interstellar journey. Joey hadn't before imagined that there were this many ships in all of space, let alone parked at one of many stations throughout the galaxy.

"Calculating the average density of a life-supporting planet, multiplied by the number of space-faring vessels per —" was as far as the robot made it through a logical explanation before Joey hushed him. He wanted to savor the moment of awe he felt at the sheer enormity of the scene.

The wheels touched down expertly, one of Joey's best landings yet, the dampener sensors indicated. He was getting pretty good, and was aware of this. As the ship approached its designated landing pad, the large throng of station guests became visible. More people than had populated the Sasugan station wandered the walkways between ships. Joey guessed there were more people on this station than the entire colony he grew up on.

"You're about to see why I.S.S. is so popular," Porter grinned.

Joey continued to stare out the viewscreen well after the ship had stopped and the docking clamps secured the landing wheels to its platform. Joey now had an up-close view of a variety of people more diverse than he could imagine. A group of travelers wandered past the screen, decked out in bright, multi-colored flight gear that somehow looked Earthy, accented with fringes and sashes and animal skins, with hair that shot out from their scalps in iridescent shocks ranging one to three feet in length. They joked and laughed as they made their way through the crowd, and Joey watched them with interest until they disappeared past the end of the viewscreen.

"Make sure you get all the supplies you need. This is our last stop for awhile."

"Um," Joey began, still somewhat transfixed by the scene before him. "Before where?"

Porter didn't answer but gripped the back of Joey's chair a little more forcefully. "Be careful here. It's not hard to get lost in this place."

He stood straight up, stretching his large, muscular arms above his head. "I'm going to gather the crew. I'm sure they're anxious to disembark. Meet me at the docking bay in five minutes."

"Should I bring robot?" Joey asked, looking at the recharging machine on the other side of the bridge.

"Sure. I'll give you a few extra credits, you can get some extra maintenance. Maybe a systems upgrade. Nobody will give your robot a second look for being out of place, but you'd better keep track of it. Lots of people would like to get their hands on a machine like that."

"Maybe we could sell it for seed money," joked Isellia, who just entered the bridge.

Joey looked ready to protest.

"Or we could sell that XR of yours," Porter joked.

"That's not funny!" Isellia said, her eyes narrowing on Porter like a hawk eyes its prey.

"Sure, I bet we could pay for a year's worth of maintenance on this ship with that kind of seed money," Porter scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Let's see, the landing gear could be upgraded, we could refinish the lower port-side hull, and then there's..."

Isellia started to slap at Porter's arm while he laughed and pretended not to notice. Joey watched but kept thinking more of the upgrades and maintenance he'd get done for robot. Maybe they'd let him watch the installation, or even allow him help with it.

***

The group stood gathered at the docking bay, A loose group gathered roughly around the ship's exit. Joey had a soldering iron and made some small adjustments on one of the robot's circuits as it stood motionless. Rex stood next to the assassin so closely they nearly touched, while Isellia very visibly pretended not to notice. Stephen nervously fingered the strap on his day pack, which hugged his hip like a belt and gave him the look of a tourist.

Porter looked them over silently, and weighing his parting words carefully. No one really cared what he said and wanted to get on with their business, and he was at least cursorily aware of that fact; but it was a tradition when they disembarked that he say a few words, and he enjoyed the feeling.

"Alright crew," Porter said, smiling to have his crew filled out, if not a bit unusually. "It'd be best if everyone stayed in groups. Rex and, um—"

"Celia is fine."

"Okay, Celia. You're okay with being paired?"

"Fine," Rex said slyly as a dark shadow clouded Isellia's face.

"Very good. Isellia, you can come with me."

"Forget it," Isellia said, arms crossed. "I'm better off alone, you know." She glared at the assassin as she spoke, who returned the look with a warm smile. Isellia continued glaring, but started to turn red with anger.

"Nope. I need your to help with supply parts. You're coming with me. Joey, you take the robot and Stephen with you. Joey's got some service to take care of on the robot, and you get whatever you need for the engine room. I'll give you extra credits."

"Okay!" the pair said in unison.

Isellia smirked. "You're putting those two together? Oh, that'll turn out well," Isellia said, rolling her eyes.

"Isellia," Porter said pensively.

"He might end up getting engaged again." She winked sarcastically at Joey.

"Will not!" Joey said.

"Isellia!" Porter said more sternly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Isellia said, but still grinned as she brushed her bangs from her cheek.

"Alright, be careful out there. Be back here in two hours."

"Two hours?" Isellia complained. "What, are we supposed to run everywhere?"

Porter sighed. "Fine, three hours. But no more. It's not cheap to park here for too long."

"That's not all that's cheap around here..." Isellia muttered.

"You say something?" Porter asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Hmm?" Isellia asked wide-eyed, tracing a small circle with her toe coyly.

"Three hours," Porter said, shaking his head as he opened the door.

***

Two thin-bodied beings the like of which Joey had never seen walked past him and Stephen as they made their way through the crowd of the ISS station. They carried a baby version of them in a long cylindrical green quiver that easily could have held arrows for a bow. Joey had read about arrows in a book about Old Earth, and had been fascinated with the idea, even making his own — so when he saw the small creature, it was the first thing he thought of.

Three large creatures drank cans of synth and pushed each roughly as they walked past Joey surprisingly fast for their size. Joey couldn't help but think of large balls on a pair of stilts as they passed - the men had thin legs and round upper bodies, and in fact were not men but the females of their species. They were loud, rough and aggressive, and easily gave the appearance of males to humans who didn't know better.

The ships caught Joey's eyes too. A small woman in a jumpsuit polished a craft that looked like a larger version of Isellia's ship. XR had experimented with a cruiser class ship that could traverse large tracts of space. It turned out to be wildly unpopular, largely because if someone had the money to buy a cruiser class ship new, they wanted something that looked like a cruiser class ship. The ship gained more popularity on the secondary market, where most people on the outer circle bought them — but XR, like any manufacturer, doesn't make products for the secondary market.

Joey's attention had been distracted momentarily by a woman with unusually tall, purple hair and dark, scaly purple/black skins when he smacked into something large and solid. He fell backward, nearly falling over himself before catching his balance.

"Watch it!" The wall said. Joey looked up to see one of the largest humanoids he'd ever seen in his life looming over him and not looking particularly pleased.

"S-S-Sorry," Joey stammered, feeling a tingle of fear creep up his spine and over his scalp.

The man, wearing coveralls that were as wide as they were tall and a red stocking hat, looked from Joey to Stephen and back again. "You two little punks got a lot of guts wandering around an I.S.S. by yerselves. 'Specially if yer not watching who's path yer crossing."

"We'll be careful," Stephen said, without his usual stutter as he attempted to walk past the man's bulk with his head lowered to the ground as if watching his feet.

"You'll be dead!" The ruffian grabbed Stephen's head like a grapefruit and threw him back, the small man toppling like a doll thrown by a child. He rolled head over heels a few times then landed flat, barely getting up.

Joey's expression changed, and he suddenly forgot his fear. "Yaaaaaaahhhhh!" he yelled, charging the ruffian.

The man was too quick, and had been in too many fights to be taken by surprise, and dodged out of the way faster than seemed possible for a man of his size. Joey fell to the ground while the enormous man bellowed with laughter. "Lot a spunk for a little guy!" The man almost looked pleased, but then his expression narrowed again.

Joey looked up to see a pair of black boots standing between him and the giant man. He saw the big guy wheel around and start to grab him, then suddenly recoil in pain.

Joey sat up to see a slender, small man only a little bigger than Stephen, with little hair and a bushy mustache, calmly holding the gigantic man's hand in a way that seemed to cause him great pain. His grimace could be seen through his large beard, as his face writhed in anguish.

"Okay, okay!" the big man blathered, grimacing in pain. "I was just playin.' No big, OW, no big deal! Aw, please let go!"

The small, slender man didn't respond, but changed his angle slightly, causing the man's face to come within inches of his own. He had short, straight hair which framed a grizzled expression.

"A warning," he said, after a moment of silence. "Next time you disturb the peace on my watch, you won't be using this hand again. Ever. Got it?"

The man nodded rapidly, still wincing in pain. This didn't seem to be good enough for him. "Got it?" he asked again, leaning in a little closer.

"Okay, sure, yes sir, yep, I – OW – yes, okay, yep, I – oh thank god," the ruffian said, rubbing his wrist and hand as the grizzled old man let go. Joey nearly laughed with relief and at the sight of the huge man scurrying away with his head bowed over his throbbing wrist.

The man didn't look away, but kept watching the retreating giant of a man as he spoke. "I'd say be careful around here. These parts get a little rough. But you got bigger problems on your hands."

Joey's expression grew quizzical as Stephen found his feet, limping slightly as he stood up. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Somebody's gone off with your 'bot."

A cold panic struck Joey as he looked frantically about for the missing robot. It occurred to him that the robot should have stepped in and intervened during the skirmish. His eyes frantically darted through the crowd, full of people who had observed the incident but had not paid much attention — he found no sign of the robot. The blood drained from his face as he looked back up at the man. Had it wandered off? Did someone steal it? Who could have? All this cycled through Joey's young mind.

The constable looked at him for the first time. "I got a pretty good theory. Didn't think she'd have the guts to come back here again."

"What? Who?" Joey didn't know what to say. "What?"

"Let's go," he said, with Joey and the limping Stephen following him.

***

The dark cove smelled of dank cigarette smoke mixed with the sweet scent of incense covered in the dark veil of engine oil. A dim, red glow lay like an ugly blanket over the cluttered space, lending a crimson sheen to the piles of machines, engines, hoses, gears, sprockets, transmissions, forklifts, broken forks, wheels, wings, widgets — gizmos that both fit and didn't fit the robot's catalogue. An imposing dank mist clung to the robot's chassis, a moisture that could rust its metal if exposed too long.

Restraints held its arms and legs motionless, locked into position by restraining clamps. It could scan its surroundings, analyze, catalogue, classify, strategize, conceptualize, ionize — but it could not move.

The robot could filter the scent, analyze it and store the data in its memory. It could measure the moisture of the air, calculate the rate at which its metal would break down into a dusty brown rust. Weigh the risk analysis on a cost/benefit algorithm, calculate probable outcomes based on the machinery available, reify the possibility of survival in a quantifiable equation.

But it couldn't measure the sense of foreboding, the fear, the anticipation that a human would have experienced waiting in the dank darkness, bound in place in an unfamiliar environment. Its mind wouldn't frantically race for an escape that wasn't there. It had no heart to race, no adrenaline to flood its systems, no breath to grow heavy.

It could not fear.

It stood motionless, gathering data.

"Hello, my little machine," a voice crackled through the dim red cling. The voice emoted a deep throatiness mixed with metallic rasp. Robot's circuits worked overtime in an attempt to classify this new voice, to understand — but it fit nothing in the robot's data set.

***

"Ooo hey, this is the alley, I think," Isellia said, pointing excitedly, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. "There's a great shop right down this way, right over there, let's go go go!"

"Isellia, I said afterwards," Porter said, not even bothering to look in the direction of the alley as he shook his head.

"Oh come on, Porter," Isellia whined, tugging at Porter's sleeve like a small child. Isellia shopped for engine parts like many girls might shop for shoes. As Joey had noticed earlier, her personality changed almost completely at the thought of collecting new upgrades for her XR. The presence of this technology and the promise of speed, she transformed into the teenage girl she was; not the grizzled, space-experienced tough façade she generally used to filter the world.

Porter looked down at her, his face softening. He found it harder to say no to the pouty-lipped, pleading Isellia than the sarcastic perpetually bored teenager. Isellia had a unconscious knack for tapping into Porter's father complex — she worked it to her advantage more often than Porter would ever care to admit.

"Alright, but we're not spending hours in there. We have to resupply for our trip and meet back with the others in a timely–"

Isellia had stopped listening sometime around "alright" and was already dragging the large bulk of Porter like a tug-ship dragging a space barge down the alley.

In her blind fury of shopping exuberance, Isellia towed Porter into a large, semi-drunk man stumbling into the alley. Despite her size, her forward momentum coupled with the drunken man's tipsy balance sent him toppling over onto the station's ground, and the half-drunk Perovian beer he carried spilled into the alleyway. Isellia fell back into Porter, who caught her easily.

"Careful, Isellia," Porter said, restoring her balance.

After stumbling about some, the drunk man found his feet rather quickly. He stood up tall, with slicked-back black hair, with a dark, shiny jacket framing an off-white undershirt. His brown flight pants had beer stains in various places, as well as a few cuts in the fabric. They looked like cuts left from a knife that didn't completely penetrate the tough clothing but left long, thin lines of fray where the blade had grazed its surface.

His face, framed by impossibly large side-burns, went from angry to an evil grin when he noticed the young lady he'd run into.

"Well, what have we here?" The man asked, looking Isellia up and down in a manner that inspired goosebumps to crawl over her flesh. "How's about you buy me a beer to make up for the one I spilled, huh? Whatta ya say, baby?" The jacket rose up on his body as he ran his hand through his slicked black hair, revealing more of the dingy white T-shirt underneath.

"How's about you leak off?" Isellia responded, flicking her nose with her pinky in the traditional Yarrow drinking culture insult.

"Okay, let's calm down," Porter said, moving between Isellia and the drunk. "We'll pay for your drink, since we spilled it. That's fair."

"Get off, old man," the drunken man yelled, putting his hand out in front of Porter like a traffic cop stopping a pedestrian. "I weren't talkin' to you. Now, how's about it, sweets? Wanna rock and roll? I love a woman with spunk. Huh-huh!"

The woman Porter and the rest of the crew had come to know began to boil to the surface, bubbling at the top as the young man grinned and leered at her. "I'll show you spunk, grease-hole," she muttered, pushing past Porter and toward him. Before Porter could respond, Isellia was face to face with the man who stood nearly a head taller than she.

His mischievous grin grew ever wider at the turn of events. "Now, that's a little more like it, honey. You look even better up close. How 'bout we get to know each other a little, huh?"

"We don't want any trouble, guy," Porter said. "Let's go, Isellia."

"Who says?" Isellia said, her glare never leaving the man's face.

"Trouble?" the dark-haired man asked Porter. He turned back to Isellia with the dangerous grin plastered on his face. "I ain't looking for trouble. Just a little bit of fun." His eyes kept falling to Isellia's chest as he said this.

A dangerous grin found Isellia's lips, and her posture changed slightly. "You want some fun, huh?" she said in a low, sultry voice that surprised Porter. "Okay." Her hands reached to the zipper near the neck on her flight suit. She started to slowly unzip it, as the ruffian's eyes, already distracted by her cleavage, grew wider as the zipper worked its way toward her belly button.

His eyes never left that spot until a hard right hook averted his gaze, cracking the man's jaw and sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Looks like trouble always finds us anyway," Porter sighed, rolling his sleeves in preparation for conflict.

***

A thin, snake-like cord writhed across the floor's dusty concrete surface toward the robot's feet. Its sensors detected danger, flashed a signal toward its main processor to warn of the intrusion, but the signal never made it. A small bolt transfixed to one of its input jack halted the flow of information from its processor to its automated parts. In human terms, the robot was paralyzed.

The thin, metallic coil, like an arm with no master, snaked its way up the robot's leg, around its torso and paused ominously in front of its data input port. The robot's processor was programmed to defend any device attempting to input information, to only accept trusted, consensual data, and as the prongs on the tip of the snake adapted to fit its input, the normally green LED display on the robot's cranial unit flashed danger red.

The snake went taut as it plunged its data entry into the robot's input port, jolting the robot against its restraints. The connection was formed instantaneously.

The snake's tip straightened, flexed as it penetrated the data port's thin metallic membrane. A splurge of information injected the robot's consciousness, flooding its processors with a flurry of information it was ill equipped to handle. The robot's chassis twitched and shook as more and more data, numbers and images and formulas and histories, unclassifiable, unsortable, no time or ability to sort them, the robot's processors toiled tirelessly but futilely to maintain control, to render some sort of order to the overwhelming data stream, and finally the robot let go, accepted the free flow of info, no longer adhering to the set pathways, to classification, to priorities and protocol, algorithms — the data spiraled and eddied, like a stream of blood, a pastiche of corrupted and incomplete data, data with no logic. Classifications blurred, file types merged, ones and zeros could no longer be distinguished as it crescendoed into a blur...

The source of the snake, the fem-machine, heaved and sighed as the transfer reached its climax, head thrown back in ecstasy, ejaculating the information in a flurry of orgasmic energy, receiving the robot's data as she flooded more back into it, a continuous data exchange cycle, blending the line between input and output until the distinction blurred and faded altogether, until there was just one shared data, rushing in and out and flowing between them both.

Finally, the machine woman reached her peak, screamed out in electronic ecstasy, in ecstatic electricity, in carnal circuitry... and then it was done. Her snake arm went slack, disengaged itself from the robot's input port, and fell limp to the floor sparking. The many arms and lights and mechanics on the fem-machine fell silent, and the portion of her that was still human fell back against her mechanical frame. The robot, once a rage of motion, hung silent against its restraints, its green, flashing, fading light indicating its sleep mode status. The machine-woman's minions, silently awaiting the reawakening of their master.

As the door to the room opened and light washed in, flooding the darkness with light, all appeared calm.

***

The saloon-style door swung open again as the rockabilly ruffian rose to his feet, dusting off his dark leather jacket. Four large men, all nearly the size of the man Isellia just knocked down, stumbled out of the bar.

"You all right, Billy?" one of them asked, as they surrounded the two.

Billy touched his hand to his lip, observing the blood that dotted his fingers. He looked to Isellia a moment, and slowly the look of surprise on his face changed to a grin. "Not a bad right hook. Not bad at all. There's one thing I likes more than womens, it's fightin.'"

The thug behind Isellia attempted to grab her as Billy came rushing in, fist at the ready. Isellia, for whom this was hardly her first fight, recognized what was coming and stepped out of reach just in time so that Billy slammed into his friend, unable to stop his momentum. Isellia took the opportunity to kick her would-be grabber with his momentum, sending him sprawling to the ground. She ducked a backfist swing from Billy, and was about to launch a counter attack when a third attacker rushed her from behind and knocked her to the ground. She turned in time to kick out at the third man, sending him back, but then Billy was on top of her, pinning her to the ground with his weight.

"Yer a feisty one, ain't ya?" Billy teased, taking a moment to observe her face up close. She didn't like the look of the big, dumb grin that found his face.

"I just washed this suit, bolt head!" she said, spitting at him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Porter fending off two others, dodging their attacks and landing a few of his own.

Billy straightened up, holding her arms to the ground, as he looked at her suit with a boyish curiosity. "Hey, that's a flight suit."

Isellia, who'd felt she was being visually undressed before realizing he was actually interested in the suit itself and not what was underneath it, couldn't hide a perplexed looked. "What? Of course it's a – what're you, defective?"

Billy seemed undeterred. "Alright, now..."

"Get off me, you pervert!"

"Say uncle."

Isellia once again felt the inability to hold her lower jaw up. "Say what?"

"Say uncle! I win if you say uncle. Say it!"

Isellia shook her head. "Get off me you cretin!" She began struggling again, but it was no use from the position she was in.

Suddenly she felt his grip loosen as a large hand grabbed Billly's ear, pulling him back effortlessly, like he was a doll. "Ow, ow, ow, stoppit, stoppit, stoppit..." he stammered like a child while being pulled to his feet.

"Alright, playtime's over," said the man standing over Isellia. She looked up at him and her eyes widened in surprise. He looked almost exactly like Billy, only older, taller, better built, and his slicked-back, black hair had streaks of gray running through it.

Everyone had stopped what they were doing and watched this older version of Billy, all the boys now with fear in their eyes.

"Y'all git inside now," he said, looking back slightly out of the corner of his eye at them.

"But we was just playin,'" Billy pleaded, sounding much younger than he looked as the man held him off-balance by the ear.

"What'd I tell you about playin' with girls?" The man asked, swatting him behind the head. "Ain't you old enough to know the difference yet? Now git inside. I'll deal with you later." He turned to Isellia, offering a hand. "You all right, miss?"

Isellia crouched up toward the hand, but batted it away as she stood. "I can play with the boys just fine," she said, dusting herself off.

"I'm sure you can!" he replied, bellowing in laughter that Isellia couldn't help finding somewhat charming and disarming.

***

The robot's head swiveled furiously, the dank, red room twirling into a motion blur as its processors failed to keep up in their taxed state. Its CPU yielded to the unclassifiable, allowed the data to flow through, unfirewalled, a stream with no origin and no conclusion. Its awareness floated on the stream, swept by currents of bits and packets, twirled by eddies of information, ducking under its surface and emerging again, sans logic, sans classification, sans reason or purpose or protocol, sans action or consequence –

The robot's head began to spin more slowly, its visual sensors once again began to make order of its surroundings, blurs classified as shapes, images began to follow logic and the semiotic relationships began to hold true once again. And yet its classification of objects seemed to stem from a new set of rules, a brand new interpretant that baffled its otherwise still orderly circuits. It understood the world and yet was seeing it as if completely anew.

The twirling slowed bit by bit until the robot's head came to a complete stop, focusing on a spot on the floor as its stabilizers refocused and adjusted. The robot struggled to regain logic, but found it just out of reach.

Its sensor light, which had been flashing as many colors as it was programmed to recognize, returned to its normal green, but with a strange glow that flowed in and out of different brightness levels, never settling on one, opposed to its usual digital blink.

"How do you feel, robot?" Smoke rolled out of the slightly open lips of One-Lung Alice, the fem-machine, as she spoke. The room had taken on a stale, smokey stench with her presence, and the robot's LED glowed in the haze that hung in the dank room. The robot look up at One-Lung Alice, unable to process what was happening in a manner that would lend meaning to the situation. It looked up with what in a human would be considered anticipation.

The robot's processor tried to re-access its usual data streams, but the files weren't where they were supposed to be. Its logic patterns didn't seem to exist, forcing it to form new patterns. The process strained the robot's systems, and it moved and acted as someone confused and scared would as Alice approached its still bound frame.

"How do you feel?" The machine woman asked again, smoke rasping out of her mouth. "Don't try to think about it, honey. Just say it."

The robot stood, blinking green. "Illogical," it finally said.

"Well I'll be spaced," One-lung said in a voice that varied between smoky space outpost diner and food disposal unit. "Faster than usual. Usually takes much longer." Her snake-like tentacle once again writhed toward the struggling machine. As its sensors picked up the shiny coil, its head case spun one complete circle, and its defensive mechanics forgot their civil war and tensed in focus on the head of the coil.

"Logic...consequence... action...meaning...none...must repair...reboot...illogic...dislogic..."

"It's called awakening, case yer wondering," the mechanic woman proclaimed, with a sense of conquest, the coil drawing near. "This IS a reboot."

"...zzzztzzczzzz..." was the only sound the robot made as the coil reinserted itself again.

***

The robot powered on once again, unaware of the time that had passed — its RAM only recorded a second in shutdown state, its processors unaware of any lapse in linear time beyond that small chrono unit. Its sensors scanned the dark and dank surroundings – the same scene before it lost power, save for the light that peeked in from the open door where Joey, Stephen and the robot entered.

"Robot, are you alright?" Joey asked, running toward the machine seated on the floor with arms outstretched like a child reunited with a lost teddy bear.

"Don't!" the man yelled, but Joey had already closed the gap. The robot neither accepted nor rejected Joey's embrace, but reflectively backed against the machinery behind it. Its processors scanned through droves of stored data, finding its files the same and yet somehow different in a way that was beyond its ability to classify — corrupted. A stream of data flowed from one inner server to another, a flow with less logic and intuition — a constant eddy of information.

The robot looked at Joey with what almost appeared to be curiosity. Its green LED blinked, and it scanned the boy as if seeing him for the first time. The robot would look as if it would recognize him, then the LED would disappear all over again.

"Robot, don't you know me? It's Joey!" Joey petted its metal casing, looking into the blank visor that periodically flashed green.

The green light came on once again, a line across the screen that was its best facsimile of human eyes. Joey looked at it again, while Stephen and the sheriff kept their distance. This time, the robot stopped fighting the stream, but let the data flow as it would. It stopped trying to access the information but let simply allowed the stream free reign. It looked at Joey with recognition, the line turning into little swirls for a moment.

"Robot is ... functioning," it finally said to Joey, on whose face appeared a grin from ear to ear.

"Jeezuz, it's one of them," the sheriff muttered to himself. He ignored the curious look Stephen gave him.

"Come on, let's get you back to your ship," the constable said, shaking his head in contempt as he looked upon the abandoned lair. Of course no one could hear the silent oath he mouthed to the criminal who'd avoided him for so long.

Stephen would wonder later about the words he'd seen the constable mutter. One-lung.

"Come on, robot," Joey said, happy to have the robot back, yet unaware of how truly different it was.

***

The small space-port bar roared with fast and punctuated music, deep and punchy tunes that compelled feet to move and hips to swivel. Indeed, many bar patrons flooded the small, checkered space serving as a dance floor, feet and bodies flying ways that ranged from talented and untalented, all with enthusiasm that compelled others to watch, if not join in.

Isellia, Porter, Billy and his friends, and Billy's father, Roy, didn't join in the dancing, however, but sat around a red plush vinyl covered booth, with a table top that matched the dance floor, enjoying the drinks Roy insisted on buying. The smell of fried foods mixed with a dank smoke permeated the air.

"Billy ain't a bad kid, you see," Roy said, downing three quarters of his green, bubbly drink before anyone else had barely started theirs. "But he sure is like a kid sometimes, ya know? Likes ta play rough like, ya know, huh-huh." He shook his head and polished off the rest of the drink, leaving not a drop of green in the bottom of the tall glass he held out to indicate he would like more. A waitress skated to the table, filling his glass with a bored expression. Roy winked at her before she skated off.

Roy looked at Isellia, not oblivious of her more feminine features but not obvious about it either. "Hell, I don't think he's even figured out what to do with a woman yet!" Roy burst out laughing, slamming the table with his hand as another waitress, dressed in the same fluffy skirt and pig-tails they all seemed to wear, nearly dropped a tray of glasses as she stumbled on her skates. Porter and Isellia couldn't help but chuckle, more at the spectacle of Roy's character more than at what he actually said or the scampering waitress.

Roy's laughter wheezed to a chuckle, flexing and unflexing his hand, which showed off his rope-like forearms. "Yep, just drinkin' and fightin', that kid likes." Roy took a huge gulp of his Perovian beer, leaving barely half a glass left. "And XR racin.'"

Isellia nearly choked on her drink at this, swallowing the beverage before leaning over the bar toward Roy. So that's why he was so interested in her flight suit. "That clown is an XR racer!?"

"Isellia," Porter warned.

But Roy burst out into another fit of bawling laughter, bellowing over the furious music. "Sure is! And not a bad one either. Matter o' fact, he qualified for the Prix de Neus just last week. Top five of that one likely will get a nod to Grand de Lix, don't you know."

Isellia drooped her head to the table with wounded pride. This dolt who could barely tie his own shoes without help was closer to realizing her dream than she was.

"Isellia pilots an XR as well," Porter said. "And she's pretty darned good, I have to say. In fact, we were on our way to the parts shop when..."

Porter and Isellia looked incredulously at each other as Roy burst into another laughing fit. "I that so? Well, lucky you. I run the joint!"

"You what?" Isellia stammered.

"Come on by, I'll give you a fantastic discount!"

Isellia scrambled out of the booth past Porter, stepping on him and the table in the process before throwing her arms around Roy and nearly dragging the large man off his bar stool with the force of her movement. "Well, come on!" She said, tugging at Roy's black, weathered jacket.

Roy bellowed out more laughter, pausing only to finish the remainder of his ale in one gulp.

## Chapter 4

Isellia stood on the colony's dusty surface, her arms resting on a worn-out shovel stuck into the thick desert sand. Sweat glistened on her brow, soaked the front of her silver and pink jump suit. The wind brought some cool relief, blowing her pink bangs about her face. It would be some time before she could feel good again.

Porter walked up behind her, his green shirt several shades darker with perspiration and a similar shovel slung over his shoulder. He thrust his shovel into the ground next to hers, leaning the weight of his large frame on it, driving it even further into the sand.

"That's the last one," Porter said solemnly, after breaking a silence marked only by the wind.

Isellia said nothing but nodded slightly, staring out toward the mounds of dirt and sand that covered what had been the rest of the their crew. A tear found its way down her right cheek, and was immediately brushed away as she blinked her eyes dry.

They watched in silence as the sun cast long shadows over the freshly dug graves dug next to the crashed ship on the Company mining planet.

Finally she looked at Porter, whose face scrunched up uncomfortably. It was something he did in solemn situations — Isellia had only seen it on a few occasions. If Porter noticed her look, he didn't make any indication of it.

"Now what do we do?" she asked, turning back toward the ready-made graves.

"I don't know," Porter said, as sweat continued down his dark brow.

In the distance, Porter noticed a young boy and what appeared to be a robot walking toward them.

***

Joey needed little help from the robot, it turned out — other than perhaps someone or something to alleviate his boredom. The Sasugan station sent all the needed navigational coordinates to the ship's computer, which displayed little yellow arrows to indicate his direction — they turned red if he veered off course.

The ease at which the ship seemed to almost navigate itself led Joey to grow inattentive. Every so often he would catch himself day dreaming, but the memory of his recent mistake would startle him back into the present.

But the sight of the Sasugan station, when it finally came into view, held Joey's attention like nothing else could. As the ship grew closer, a tiny pinpoint of light expanded into a small sphere, which grew to fill the entire screen. Joey's jaw went slack and his mouth strayed open as the dome grew larger and larger. Signs popped into view, advertisements for restaurants, bars and things he'd never heard of brightly filled the screen and were gone, announcing their presence in a flash. Each sign flashed in a language he couldn't read briefly before fading into the common he was familiar with as the ship's translator kicked in. A sign flashed briefly: a silhouetted female, wearing little clothing, against a bright pink backdrop. The lady danced in sultry gyrations before fading into an invitation before fading off screen, other flashing signs quick to take their place. Joey puzzled at the term gentlemen's club, and what that had to do with a dancing woman.

A never-ending swarm of satellites seemed to swarm the station, at varying speeds and intervals, some narrowly missing the ship as it approached the ever-expanding station.

The buzz and activity was a shock for Joey, especially compared with the monotony of space travel thus far. But at the same time he was thrilled, his imagination piqued, and suddenly the thought of experiencing another species hit him in waves.

"Wow, do you see that station, robot? It's amazing!"

"Robot's sensors are functioning within normal parameters, and has no difficulties in visually detecting the station."

"Yeah, robot, but isn't it the most incredible thing you've ever seen?"

"Negative."

"Wha— what you mean?" Joey looked at the robot confusedly.

"The station's existence contra-indicates it being incredible. It is believable because it exists. Therefore, the station is not incredible."

Joey sighed, turning back once again to let his imagination explore. "Whatever, Robot."

The robot's LED flashed its green glow a few times, but the robot said nothing.

Past the advertisements, the equator of the giant orb appeared grey and dull, compared with light blue of its hemispheres. As the ship approached, the gray ring appeared to be subdivided, further subdividing into a series of ports, each with several landing pads that made themselves apparent the closer they got. By now, the arrows pointed to one particular landing pad, which appeared to have a series of entryways. As the ship neared, Joey guided the vessel along the yellow arrows.

Joey felt a light jolt as suddenly the station's guiding systems grabbed hold of the ship and guided it gently onto the pad. The landing gear, which caused all the contention only a short time ago, flawlessly snapped out form the bottom of the ship, and caught hold of the yellow landing pad floor, stopping the ship.

Joey heard the ship's intercom come to life. "Joey, great work," Porter's voice crackled over the intercom. "The docking bay crew will take care of the rest. Grab your stuff and meet us at the ship's entrance. We'll be leaving as soon as the airlock procedures are complete."

"Okay," Joey said, grinning slightly as the ship started to conveyor into the station's docking bay — but cold dread gripped him as he realized he'd have to face Isellia again.

***

Joey trepidatiously stepped onto the grated metal floor leading to the docking bay. The robot walked behind him, keeping pace silently save for the metal clank of its pediatric units.

Joey knew enough to be sheepish around Isellia — his mistake could have cost her life, something he could never replace, never work hard enough to make up for.

And these two new boarders made him nervous. Rex was tall and lanky with a roughness about him. He hadn't looked at Joey much, but the few times their eyes met it was like the man looked through him, like a laser searing his innards. Joey couldn't explain it, but the man's spirit was of one who'd seen and done some disturbing things. Things Joey couldn't imagine, and wouldn't have wanted to.

Stephen had a similar effect in an opposite way. His own nervousness was pervasive — it spread to others around him an air of nerves like a contagion. He seemed loyal to Rex, yet was clearly not at all at ease in his presence — nor was he really at ease with himself, for that matter. He fidgeted, darted his eyes around the room and never quite seemed to settle in any way. If Rex was a poised cat, Stephen was a nervous chipmunk.

Joey sighed and rounded the corner toward the waiting crew, somewhat wondering, as he did sometimes, what he'd gotten himself into.

"Ready to see your first alien world, boy?" Porter said with a grin, his large arms folded in front of him. Rex, standing next to him and looking tense and relaxed at the same time, like a cat ready to pounce, seemed to almost grin

Rex snorted, his gaze never leaving the door. Joey couldn't tell at all what he was thinking.

"Yeah," Joey said, still somewhat unsure. He looked around — the mood of the crew seemed amiable enough.

"Me...Me too!" Chimed in Stephen, excitedly yet at a low enough volume that Joey almost missed it. Rex snorted a "hmm," which seemed to be more of an approval than a dismissal.

Joey searched for Isellia, wondering if the prospect of getting off the ship eased her anger any, and saw to his surprise that she was staring right at him, as if waiting to say something. He looked away in surprise at her directness, then looked back briefly.

"Nice job on the landing," she said, giving him what seemed to be the slightest of a corner of a smile, before turning back to the door. Joey's eyes went wide, as if he didn't know whether to smile or gape. Rex snorted again, in what this time Joey was sure was bemusement.

"That's odd," Porter said, frowning slightly. "They should have greeted us by now."

"Try the com," Rex said in a raspy voice, hand almost moving imperceptibly toward his ROU.

"Sasugan station, do you copy?" Porter said, looking at the rest of them while listening for a reply. "I repeat, do you copy?"

The silence on the com was echoed by their own.

"I'm releasing the hatch," Porter said. He flipped a red switch embedded in a red metal casing on the side of the hatch, turned the knob which caused the poof sound of depressurization.

The portal hatch opened to reveal a brightly-lit room with a stark white interior, crowded with boxes, crates with ship parts, tools lining the floor, an unmanned crate mover, still powered on, all the accoutrements one could imagine would line the floor of a spaceport. As Joey looked, he noticed another ship beyond the stacks of crates, one slightly larger than their own, and seemingly more sleek and better armed.

And no Sasugans.

"Now that is odd," Porter said, his hand instinctively moving to a ready position above his ROU.

"Very," said Rex, his hand hovering less than an inch above his ROU. Isellia acted too, pulling out a small metal pipe which looked largely ineffectual, compared to the type:phaser weapons the others had. When Joey looked at the robot, it also held its ROU at the ready.

"What's going on?" Joey finally asked.

"Sasugan protocol states that every ship be greeted by station personnel and inspected," the robot answered. "Sasugans do not break protocol. Therefore situation equals not logical."

"You can say that again," Porter said, looking around.

"Sasugan protocol —"

"But don't!" Porter barked. As he turned to yell at the robot, a blue streak of light flashed by his head, briefly illuminating the entryway in a dull blue light before searing into the back of the entryway.

***

Joey caught only a dazed glimpse of the action's flurry before a hand pulled him hard to the floor — his mind barely had time to register the hard crash his knees and elbows made against a transport crate that left a black grease mark across the front of his shirt and bloodied his lip in a greasy-red smear.

Joey shook his head, trying to regain his focus after the fall. He saw Isellia through blinking eyes as she crouched next to the crate, holding an ROU Joey hadn't realized she owned. He shook his head again, rising up on his hands and knees

"Stay down!" Isellia yelled, pushing him with her free hand. Joey dropped immediately at the severity of her voice, a little more carefully than he had last time but every bit as quickly. Isellia never even looked at him as she crouched behind the crate. Red and green ROU fire — something like a cross between a beam and a pellet — strobed the cargo bay in flashes that were impressive and terrifying.

Isellia poked her head above the crates as Joey first started to feel the bruise on his arm from landing, which would later give him a colorful reminder of the fall. An ROU blast scorched the air above their heads, deflecting off the ship's hull behind them, searing a hole into a crate about ten feet from where they crouched.

Isellia immediately sprang out over the crates, paying no mind to the flare as she fired shots over the top of the crate's metal surface. Isellia looked calm, focused — she had the look of someone who had done this before. He discovered a new-found respect and awe for the teenager.

Isellia slammed her back behind the crate as soon as she fired her last shot. She let her head fall back against the metal container, checking the charge on her weapon and scanning her flank. Her scanning gaze met Joey's briefly, a quick evaluation, just one more piece of the equation as she calculated a way out of this mess.

"What do we do?" Joey asked in a voice he wished was a lot bigger than it sounded.

At first, Isellia seemed not to hear him. Suddenly her face was very near his, a grave, almost protective look on her face. "Stay here. Whatever you do, don't move. Don't make a sound." She rested her hand his shoulder momentarily, as Joey could only nod slightly, dumbstruck.

"What? What are you —" But Isellia turned, crouched so she wasn't exposed, and began to move toward the other end of the crates. But when she got the end, she encountered a pair of legs that didn't belong to anyone on their crew. Isellia looked up to see a humanoid figure in black fatigues, dark boots that shone impossibly bright, dark, shiny gloves, a black helmet that seemed to be one piece without seams and an ROU trained right at her as she looked up from her hands and knees.

Isellia knew she could do nothing as the soldier kicked the weapon out of her hand. She got up on her knees, staring bravely down the laser barrel, tense but unwavering.

Joey panicked at the sight, his muscles tensed around his core. He felt a tingle prickle its way over his head and down his spine, his heart rate sped and his knees felt weak. He couldn't believe what he was about to do, as if his body were going to move on its own.

Joey got about half a step in, foot still hovering in the air, when the soldier went crashing into some crates about 20 feet away. His helmet collided with the steel in a loud thump before he fell to the floor, Rex now standing firmly in his place, one arm outstretched.

"Last one," Rex said, with little emotion, seemingly as calm as if he were awaking for a cup of coffee. "Get up, you two." Rex walked away again, without saying anything.

Rex stopped, turning to look at Joey, who was still in mid-spring. Isellia followed his gaze, also noticing Joey in this ridiculous posture. A slight grin found both their faces as they realized what he was about to do.

"Stupid," Rex said, almost grinning. "Woulda got killed."

Rex once again turned away, but Isellia was still staring at him. She still had a slight grin on her face, but seemed to be looking at him curiously, as if she were deciding something

"You can relax now," she finally said. Joey seemed to realize this for the first time and let go, stumbling back a little.

But Rex suddenly turned toward the man he'd thrown, who was still conscious and reaching for a small button on his belt.

In an instant Rex pulled a hidden blade and sent it whirling across the room, severing the finger that reached for the button.

But it was too late.

The man twitched a few times, then his body relaxed as his muscle control disappeared. All three noticed the severed finger on the button on his belt.

"He's dead," Isellia said with a tone of disappointment, sliding her pink bangs back behind her ear as she left out a breath of exhaustion.

Joey looked at the soldier only a moment before he had to look away. He'd seen death before, but not this close. Even though he'd been an attacker, still, he was a person, right?

"This one too," Porter said, crouching over the dead soldier's body. "No way to know now what this was all about."

Rex sniffed. "Got a feeling we'll find out soon enough." He walked off without further explanation.

***

They found the Sasugan workers bound and gagged in a storage closet just off the docking bay. Rex was the first one to think to check, walking to the door without saying anything. He punched in a few security codes, none of which worked, then fiddled with some wires, opening the door within a few seconds.

As the door slid open, Joey got his first glimpse of a Sasugan — the first non-human humanoid he'd ever seen. Offworlders came to the colony sometimes, in dealings with Company C plant, but workers there rarely caught a glimpse of them. Joey never had. They tended to travel directly to the manager's compound, out of sight of ordinary folks like Joey.

Joey hadn't necessarily had a perfect ideal of what his first encounter with a non-human would be, but nothing like this had crossed his mind: getting shot at, rescued by a man he barely knew, and meeting his first Sasugans, as they lay tied up on the floor of a dusty docking bay closet.

They didn't really look as different as Joey had thought. There were four of them, taller than an average human, slimmer. Their translucent white skin was impossibly pale, and their jaws seemed to jut out. Their hair was white, cropped as if cut around a bowl. Joey noticed that one worker seemed distinctly female, though he couldn't have said how he could tell. Her hair seemed softer, her body more shapely, though she shared the same uniform and hairstyle with the men and didn't appear to have a lighter physique. She had extra insignias on her outfit, which led Joey to deduce correctly that she must be a leader.

Joey frowned, seeing them like this. The expression on their faces seemed both scared and ashamed — as if they had failed in their duty and were awaiting punishment.

Porter sighed. "Well, let's not just stand here. Help me untie them."

Joey's fascination with these creatures alien to him had parlayed the fear and general shakiness he'd felt after the attack, and he was ready to jump right into the task at hand. He happened to be near the female, so he bent down and started to untie the knots around her pale, slender wrist, as the others helped the other bound Sasugans. Joey struggled with the bonds, along with the fear of accidentally touching the female Sasugan inappropriately, until Porter came over and helped him. Soon the Sasugans were freed, and when the last of them stood up, they immediately formed a row in front of Joey and company. Joey looked at Porter quizzically, who grinned to himself, knowing the ritual that was to come. Rex seemed to roll his eyes. Stephen looked with interest and Isellia seemed bored.

Suddenly the Sasugans thrust their right arms out straight in front of them, beat themselves on the chest with that arm and returned it to the straight-out position, all in unison as if coordinated in advance. They must practice this, Joey thought.

"Welcome Sasuga," the female said. "Greet we you. Here, you stay, happy."

Rex took a glance at Joey, rolled his eyes, and walked back to the ship. Joey looked up at Porter quizzically, who grinned back at him. "It's their way. Formality first, with the Sasugans."

Porter then turned to the Sasugan ensemble. "Thank you. Youga ritsu. Dou kama mu?"

The Sasugans murmured amongst themselves. Finally the female spoke. "Good, you speak Sasugan, yes?"

"Thank you."

Watching Porter speak in Sasugan amazed Joey, and he stood listening to the conversation, none of which he could possibly understand.

"Yes, explain. This what happened. Sasugan okay, mu?" The Sasugan woman looked at Porter with her head cocked to the side farther than a human could do and not look ridiculous.

"Bujou dai," Porter said.

***

Joey's first encounter with the Sasugans had been a hurried one, and now that they were up and about, he started really seeing them for the first time. Their appearance wasn't that different, but just enough that Joey required some adjustment. Their faces were longer, like the rest of their bodies — even Porter, who was relatively big for a human, had to look up at the woman he was speaking to, who was shorter than the rest of the dock workers. More Sasugans, whom Joey guessed were some type of security guards had entered the room, pointing around the docking bay with very concerned expressions.

Something about the way they moved wasn't altogether human — it was slower, with different muscle contractions, somehow graceful and awkward at the same time — Joey found himself trying not to look at them. They were just too... different. The urge to stare at these other beings was overwhelmed by dizzy spells that he couldn't seem to shake.

Isellia, whom Joey hadn't seen standing nearby, punched him lightly on the shoulder. It wasn't a hard hit but Joey had been lost in thought and lurched forward a step at the strike.

"Whatsa matter with you?" She said. Her earlier anger seemed to have faded for good, Joey noticed.

"Nothing," he said. He couldn't explain his strange dizzy spells to her. She'd been places, seen things. She'd just think he was lame.

Isellia didn't follow up on her question. "Jeez, he'll be there all day if we let him. Likes to show off."

Joey looked up at Porter, who was still speaking to the female Sasugan. He started seeing them again but felt another spell, putting his hand over his eyes like a frustrated old man.

"Jeez, you OK?" Isellia looked at him. Joey nodded but didn't look up.

"Dizzy spells?"

Joey looked up at her, surprised. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

"They're pretty common." She seemed to be following the conversation, though how much Sasugan Isellia spoke was a mystery to Joey.

"Did you get them?" Joey asked. "You know, when you met your first alien?"

Isellia turned to him with a somewhat perturbed look. "Of course not!" She giggled a little. "Well, I practically grew up around... and by the way, we're the aliens, if anything. We're on their world, you know?"

Her sarcasm made Joey feel a bit ashamed.

"Right."

"Anyway, you'll get used to it," Isellia said.

Joey wanted to say thanks to this new-found, somewhat protective Isellia, but found himself distracted as a young girl about his age ran across the docking bay and put her arms around the female Sasugan.

Joey couldn't help but stare at her. She was much shorter than the adult Sasugans, and her features were less defined. She almost appeared human, despite the white hair and translucent white skin. Her hair was different than the others' — long and thin, like a young human girl's might be.

She looked up excitedly at the older woman, tugging at her black and grey fatigues, before noticing the non-Sasugans. She looked at the others in fascination, glancing at each one successively — but when she turned toward Joey she sighed in surprise, promptly hiding behind the taller Sasugan.

Porter and the woman laughed at this, then exchanged the chest-beating salute again. Joey and Isellia followed him back to the ship.

"All right, things are somewhat cleared up," Porter said, somewhat sarcastically. "The woman's name is Fina. She said they're as baffled as we are by the attack."

Rex leaned against a crate with his arms crossed.

"You wouldn't know anything about it, would you?" Porter stared at Rex, arms crossed.

Rex maintained his cool, not bothering to look at Porter when he spoke. "No clue."

Porter couldn't help but notice what appeared to be a letter sticking out of his shirt pocket. He'd noticed it before — it never seemed to leave his person.

"Anyway," Porter continued, "Fina is taking responsibility for this incident, and has agreed to allow us to stay at her home. As I understand, it's rather large. We shouldn't head out in public too much — not until we know what that was all about."

Porter made a pointed glance at Rex.

"Responsibility?" Joey questioned. "But it wasn't their fault. They didn't do anything wrong."

"I know that," Porter interrupted. "It doesn't matter. It's the Sasugan way. Someone has to take responsibility. It's best to just go along with them on things like this." Joey nodded, looking at the ground. "Trust me."

"What about our supplies?" Isellia asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

"That's all taken care of," Porter said. "Fina's people will gather the things we need. I just need to hand them a list. Probably save us a few credits to boot."

"What if what we want isn't something we want on a list," Rex said, glaring at Porter almost challengingly.

"Do you have something you want to tell us, Rex?" Porter asked.

"Just asking," Rex said.

Porter looked at Rex contemplatively for a moment. "I'm not your boss. It was just a suggestion. Whatever you do just don't endanger my crew."

Rex didn't respond with anything like words, per se, but snorted with slightly less derision than normal, which Porter took as at least marginally reassuring.

"What about my new flux cooling coils?" Isellia demanded, crossing her arms as she, too, glared at Porter.

"What about them?" Porter sighed.

"You said we could get them when we got to Sasuga."

Porter rubbed his head. "I don't know if we are going to have the funds. The ship needs a lot of repairs. I don't think we can ask for something else...."

Isellia grew very quiet, though her face turned an unhealthy red, perhaps more so than when Joey accidentally released the landing gear. Which was likely the reason he was unconsciously stepping away from her...

"You said we could get them when we got to Sasuga," Isellia repeated, stamping her foot.

"Isellia, be reasonable. We've got bigger problems than cooling coils to worry about." Porter was trying not to look at her, yet maintain a sense of authority. It appeared even he wasn't immune to Isellia's tirades.

Isellia let out something between a yell and a shriek, stomped over to Joey, grabbed his hand and began dragging him toward the ship.

"Where are we going?" Joey was almost too afraid to ask — both glad and nervous to be holding hands with Isellia.

"To get our bags! Come on!" Joey let her tug him along, as she was much stronger than him — though he would have been afraid to try and stop her if he had been Porter's size. As they made their way back toward the ship, Joey looked back and noticed the Sasugan girl, standing next to Fina, staring at them. As soon as Joey turned toward her, she quickly ducked back behind Fina. The two disappeared into the cargo ship.

## Chapter 6

A single beam of moonlight shone through the tall, plain window of Underow's 45th floor office/home. The moonlight highlighted Underow's features in a waning crescent, a spotlight in the otherwise dark room. The dull glow emanating from his computer terminal cast a pale light on his face. Like most nights, Underow toiled away at a computer screen in relative darkness. Sleep came only occasionally and involuntarily, Underow nodding off at his desk periodically before waking up and continuing. Periodically he would pause for a quick hyper-shower, nourishment packet and caffeine supplement — coffee was a luxury of higher classes — before continuing his slavish toil.

The 45th floor is about halfway up Manager Plaza 354, amongst some of the taller buildings in the district. Those buildings rise from the tangle of undercurrent like black monoliths of commerce, its defiance of gravity a symbol of commercial power over the natural world. There were more than 900 such buildings, the latest built only days before.

Underow spent years climbing to the office level in which he sat, ceaselessly typing, filing, writing reports, much of which will never be looked at again. The presence of any kind of error would be examined, however, with utmost scrutiny. Errors are not tolerated in Company C, and Underow wouldn't be where he was if he'd made any.

He once transposed a pair of co-ordinates. The number swap would have cost him dearly but for an alliance he'd made earlier that particular year. He'd caught an accounting error of someone beneath him, a simple decimal in the wrong place. The young man was bright, ambitious, Underow saw, and bargained the information for a favor. It was a win-win for both, Underow helping the young man make the fix silently, behind closed doors.

That favor turned out to be crucial as Underow continued his climb to the top.

The top keeps becoming the bottom, in a sense. One can only be assigned as high as 99, before being promoted to the next building in sequential order, being moved then into the next building, starting at the first floor. All buildings lead to one central building.: The coveted HQ. Managers packed lightly — moves were frequent, unexpected, and often with little explanation. Underow kept a bag packed in case.

So it was that Underow sat, late into the night of a planet with hardly a day to begin with — just cold, overcast gray in place of the black of night — not daring nor wishing to rest, lest the pile of work become unmanageable. The numbers became a kind of meditation, punctuated by an extremely calculating attention to detail.

The slightest of clicks broke the utter silence of Underow's numerical enchantment. He peeked over his terminal to see the silhouette of a single high-heeled boot emerging from one such concealing shadow.

"Hm, it's you," Underow said, quickly tapping the button on his workstation that conceals and secures any data from non-Company C eyes. "Losing your touch?"

A slight, feminine chuckle wafted from the empty shadows. "You say that every time," a low, sensual feminine voice purred. "Nevermind the fact that I've been watching you for an hour."

"Of course," Underow says, his hand nervously tapping as he calculated how much time he was losing to the conversation. His finger twitched, resisting the temptation to click the security screen away and work while he talked. His calculating mind knew the penalty for compromising secured documents is much worse than a few missed minutes of work. "You got the memo?"

The boot disappeared into the shadow, and Underow heard the pacing of her heels, something he knew could only be meant for his ears. Underow never knew the assassin to leave the slightest trace of a sound that wasn't intentional.

"I did. I can only assume the price is some kind of joke. And not a terribly amusing one."

Underow flinched, anticipating a pricing negotiation that would further keep him from his work. "Why?" he sighed.

"Are you aware exactly what you are asking me to hunt?"

"Not my business. The price is set by the company. Take it."

"This is an insult."

"No, it's business. Take it or we give it to someone else. I'm very busy."

"You're always very busy. And you have no one better than I."

Underow heard another sigh, one that he also knew was intended for his ears. "I can handle the mark, but not at this price. I've handled average smugglers for more than this."

Underow rubbed his temple, agitated at resisting the desire to work during this needless conversation. "There have been cutbacks. Cost-benefit analysis says we're simply paying too much for these type of services." Underow leaned back in his chair. He didn't fear the assassin, because he knew she would only kill for money, and wouldn't lift a finger without a price. "Again, not my business."

"Is that so?"

Underow once again heard the deliberate clicking of black stiletto heels, and was taken aback when the assassin emerged from the shadows; he had only seen her once before, and once again he was struck with how beautiful she was; her long, black hair flowed behind her; straight-cut bangs hung over her forehead. As she walked toward him, the moonlight highlighted her cheekbone and lips in a way that nearly awakened something inside that had been almost forgotten. Suddenly his work nearly left his mind for the first time in several years as she strode across the room.

He suddenly became aware, as she sauntered toward him, the legend that one never sees an assassin from her clan and lives to tell about it. He'd seen her once before, and lived to tell about it (but of course hadn't dared to tell a soul), but that didn't stop his heart from beating its way up his esophagus.

She stopped at the foot of his desk, leaning her long, slender figure over it so that her face stopped inches from Underow's pasty complexion, her dark hair brushing against his hollowed cheeks. His heart beat faster and he swallowed hard as he gazed into her large, beautiful eyes and her full lips aroused his nearly forgotten carnal feelings.

"Listen, I'll start following the mark," she said, her voice soft, a bone-chilling whisper. "But I won't act until the price I sent you—" a message popped up on his monitor at that moment "—is paid. Please forward that to the 'higher-ups.'"

She gazed at him a moment longer, to let her point sink in, then eased her slender figure back up, turning with impossibly fluidity, back into the moonlight. The silhouette cast by her jet black, form-fitting outfit left little of her figure to the imagination, and Underow remained mesmerized as she faded into the shadow, her heels becoming silent once again.

Underow took more than a moment to regain his composure and pass along her message. He would have to push himself even harder to make up all the lost time.

***

Joey sat staring at a plate of food utterly foreign to him. For one thing, the little black bead-like morsels in the side dish seemed to be moving, wiggling in a manner that seemed unnatural for something he might eat, and it had been fairly well ingrained into his psyche, despite his young age, that food was just not supposed to move. He picked up his fork, and stabbed with half-hearted resolve to eat the little dark dish, only to have it move, quelling his appetite as he returned the fork to its side.

Isellia, the robot and Joey sat in a small diner on a high floor of one of the many buildings in the Sasugan station. It was the day after their narrow escape from the junkyard, and little was said about the escapade. Porter had seemed none the wiser, and had been too engaged in ship business to question them too much about their whereabouts. Isellia had taken them out for a walk, and asked if Joey had wanted to eat. He had, but moving food wasn't what he had in mind.

Isellia noticed Joey's reluctance with some amusement. "It's only kibib. Eat it, it's good." She lifted the last of her kibib to her mouth, using an ishah, the standard utensil used by Sasugans, and chewed with a grin. "Mmm, I missed this food!" she said, rubbing her tummy.

He sat across from Isellia, the robot next to him in the colorful dinner. Behind the robot through a large plate-glass window he could see the Sasugan station's skyline (from 55 floors above street-level, with the planet itself a ghostly globe haunting the sky. Isellia seemed happy, he thought.

"Do you think Porter knows," Joey asked, staring at his kibib as it periodically writhed on his plate.

"Nah," she said after a pause, replacing her kibib and imbibing the bright red tea accompanying her meal. "We covered pretty good. I think he bought our story."

"Why'd you have to blame robot, though?" Joey took a drink of the tea, which he found he rather liked, though it seemed odd to him at first. "Just doesn't seem fair."

"Look, it fit the story, and the robot isn't going to get in any trouble, okay? If Porter knew what we were really up to, he'd totally spazz? Do you want that?"

Joey looked at the robot, which of course required no nourishment and looked odd sitting at a diner booth.

"I know, but a malfunction?"

"He'll forget about it," Isellia waved dismissively, downing a square cup of some liquid Joey had nearly spit out when he first tried it. Oddly, by this point he'd grown accustomed to it, and it became the most palatable thing in front of him. "After all, you 'fixed it,' right?"

"Is it okay that robot's here, anyway?" He noticed many of the diners, especially the Sasugans, stared at the robot, turning away quickly when Joey noticed them.

"Oh yeah," she laughed. "If anything, it'll make us more popular. The ones you see staring are staring out of jealousy. Sasugans love robots. Most of the ones Company C sold, they were bought by Sasugans." She drank some more tea, nearly polishing it off. Joey, even at his age, noticed how out of place her manners were in the diner; the Sasugans were so quiet and drank very slowly compared to her loudness and rapidity of movement. "They probably wonder why we have one, though." She turned suddenly, catching a Sasugan staring at her. "What?" she asked in a mocking tone as the Sasugan looked back to his plate, startled.

"Is it kind of weird being stared at like that, robot?" Joey asked, ignoring Isellia's rudeness toward the Sasugan.

"Sasugans do not represent a threat," the robot replied.

"Take more than that to get through that metal brain," Isellia said, poking at the robot's brain-casing with her index finger. It made a tink, tink noise that amused her.

"Robot's not the only one..." Joey muttered.

"What was that?" Isellia asked, her gaze peering into Joey's retinas.

"Nothing," Joey said, reacting much like the staring Sasugan did to Isellia's challenging gaze.

Isellia seemed content with his response, taking the last of her tea in one huge gulp, leaving the last florescent green drops on the corners of her pert mouth. A party of six could all order different colored tea, it comes in so many varieties. "Alright, finish your tea! Time to hit the streets."

Joey drank his tea and, almost without thinking, took a forkful of kibib into his mouth. Surprise at the oddness was soon replaced with the realization that kibib is actually pretty tasty.

"Yeah, not bad huh? Shoulda tried it sooner! Now, we got more stuff to buy!" Isellia threw some credits on the counter and strode to the door, as Joey grabbed a few more forkfuls and polished off his tea. He looked around at the other diners, almost apologetic for Isellia's coarse manners, before following her out the door with the robot in tow. He knew better than to lose sight of her for long in the densely crowded streets. Trying to find her would be almost as difficult as keeping up with her as she browsed the streets in every XR parts store they could find, for nearly the entire simulated day.

***

Scouting report

22CF9919

Sasugan station

\- 37:89... Target subjects companions entered XR Funtio (XR fun) parts shop. Pink-haired teenager followed by younger pre-teen male and robot. Pink-haired girl walked faster, browsed entire store several times. Boy wandered aimlessly, and robot followed closely. Pink-haired girl made two purchases, pocketed several unpaid-for items. Boy didn't seem to notice.

\- 38:30... Subjects stopped at street vendor. Pink girl purchased akokiya from street vendor, used credits from boy. Boy tried some, reluctant at first. Girl ate most of it, happily. Robot watched. Girl seems more experienced with Sasuga than boy. Seems unfamiliar with Sasugan customs, very curious, looks about as he walks. Girl seems accustomed to Sasugan culture, though ignores most conventions and rules. Sasugans seem afraid to correct her.

-39:99... Subjects meet with young Sasugan girl. Seems shy, somewhat fearful of pink girl. Looks at boy when boy isn't looking. Stands closer to boy than would be normal for Sasugans. Seems to be guiding them. Pink girl relinquishes guide role, without giving up alpha status. Sasugan girl seems to defer to pink girl, but also looks to boy for approval. Robot follows.

00:34... Subjects eating at kibib restaurant. Sasugan girl orders for boy. Boy chokes on kibib. Both girls lean in to help boy. Boy waves okay, still choking. Older girl dominates, stops boy from choking. Sasugan girl watches, worried, forehead growing red (Sasugan crying/embarrassed). Pink girl makes joke. Boy looks apologetic, mindful of restaurant attendees, staff watching. Sasugan girl stares at lap.

***

The assassin stepped out from behind a bush after watching Isellia, Joey and Ayuuk enter the Sasugan house. Her black stiletto heels, capable of making a terribly loud clack when forcibly applied to a hard surface, glided over the station's streets noiselessly as she walked. In fact, despite her stunning beauty, she rarely gained notice of the station's inhabitants — unless she wanted to. At her level of skill, it was something she no longer needed to think about.

She found herself at a Sasugan watering hole, the front adorned in classic Sasugan accoutrements, multi-colored paper lamps which cast a dim, romantic light on small, cascading water falls. The sign was a traditional paper one — the kind Sasugans only use for decorations — with a single character written in a unnecessarily fancy script. The traditional Sasugan decor juxtaposed with the station's modernity — the district sparkled in bright, laser-lit signs advertising all manner of intoxicants from across the quadrant, including the assassin's favorite: Shoukolotto.

Her well-toned backside found the farthest barstool in the room and settled delicately into it, but not without gaining the leering notice of a few of the bar's inhabitants.

"Her drink's on me," bellowed the voice of an unusually large Flaigin (non-Sasugan), nearly stumbling over a barstool while making his way to her side. He looked mostly human, but would have been about the size of the largest of that species. Flaigins had large, protruding foreheads. They enjoyed headbutting, and being on the receiving end often proved fatal.

"No thanks," the assassin said. "I buy my own drinks."

The Flaigin's wide grin narrowed into a grimace in the way put-off drunks are known for, a painfully slow reaction she waited for patiently. "What did you say?" he asked indignantly. The room's other inhabitants, many foreigners, and a few Sasugans, stopped what they were doing, and watched.

"I don't repeat myself," she said. Then turning to the bartender, "Shoukolotto, please," she said to the bartender in Sasugan. She looked around the small shoko joint, taking in the rest of the scene. The other bar patrons pretended to go back to their drinks, though they kept her in sight in the corner of their eyes, waiting for what they knew would be a confrontation.

"Hey, where do you get off ignoring me?" The ruffian grabbed at her shirt, failed to gain a hold on the tight, shiny black material, and nearly fell over himself. The assassin looked down, noticing a small scratch on the otherwise flawless material. A slight frown found her face, and the bartender and some of the other patrons who were familiar with her grew anxious and unconsciously backed away, knowing what was coming.

The ruffian recovered his balance, and stood up so that he was looking right into the assassins face. "No one refuses a drink from me." He pointed his thumb at his chest proudly. "I'm wanted in several star systems, you know." He grinned, his eyes visually caressed her impossibly smooth cheek. "Maybe I should teach you some manners — make you beg to buy me a drink."

The threat drifted by the assassin's face like a blustering breeze, not finding a grip to hold on to. She gazed into his face, seemingly out of curiosity more than anything. Her eyes held the quiet intensity of a cool breeze.

Another patron, an older human, put his hand on the ruffian, attempting to step in between them. The assassin looked surprised for the first time during the encounter, though it passed like a ripple on the surface of water as she reassessed the situation.

"Hey, this ain't where it's at, pal," the old man said impossibly loud, and with a slight quiver. He had a shock of grey hair that shot out of his scalp like he'd just been electrocuted, and a few of his yellowed teeth seemed to have left his mouth long ago. His laughter dominated the room, the assassin remembered from previous visits, and his grin appeared to be plastered to his face. He generally appeared good-natured enough, though, and that was enough for her.

"What the hell do you care?" the ruffian blurted, turning to him. "You wanna die too?"

The assassin could see the tension in the old man as he trembled slightly, but stood his ground and seemed determined. "Hey, I don't know, I'm just some guy in a chair, but far as I know, threatening women, that ain't no way to go, buddy. I think it's time you left."

The ruffian looked like he was about to say something, but the assassin cut him off, putting her hand on the old man's arm — immediately his whole body relaxed and his nervousness disappeared. He looked at her with complete confusion. "Thank you, but I have this under control. Please have a seat."

The old man looked confused, though he felt strangely calm, but didn't have time to reply. The Flaigin shoved him back, and the old man toppled over in a heap, where he lay on the floor. He struggled to get up.

"Yeah, see! That's what happens" The ruffian guffawed, turning to the assassin. "Now, for you—" but when he looked back at the assassin, her gaze was directly on him, and a fierceness in her eyes gave him pause. Her look was often enough to send paralyzing fear into the hearts of most creatures, but the Flaigin was experienced and recovered his composure. The other bar's patrons now didn't attempt to disguise their interest, and watched openly.

The ruffian never figured out how he made it to the floor, exactly, though he would puzzle over it for some time afterward. He remembered taking a swing at the assassin, faster than most, a blow that would put most his size and smaller, and even bigger, on the floor. He vaguely remembered the feeling of expecting to find human flesh and instead his fist finding only air, a brief feeling before he hit the floor. The bar's staff left him there as he slept, and he woke the next day finding a note that simply said: "Never come here again."

The assassin helped the old man off the floor, handling him as gently as she was harsh on the attacker. She helped him to his barstool, and he mostly stared at her in amazement - although his perpetual grin sort of lent itself to a look of constant bewilderment.

She looked him over, touched him in a few places while she breathed deeply and deliberately (the old man was afraid to take any pleasure from this), then patted him on the back. "Thank you for your bravery. It was kind of you to risk your safety for my sake."

The man had often complained of aches and pains — yet even after the spill he took, he felt better than he had in years.

The man stared at her, his wonderment twisting his face into an unnatural expression. "Are you some kind of angel?" he asked in the booming voice that carried over the quiet murmurs of the room.

She turned and walked back to where the bartender had set her drink. "Not a chance," she said, giving him one last grin. She took the Shoukolotto, emptying it in one gulp, and threw more credits on the counter than the drink cost. "This should cover mine and the old man's drink, and for dealing with the fellow on the floor," she said in Sasugan to the bartender.

"Did you kill him?" the old man asked as she stepped by him.

She stopped, and without turning around. "No, he's quite fine," she said. "When he wakes up tomorrow, he might wish I had." The assassin walked out the door, every eye in the room watching her go. She gracefully strode through the door, fading into the station's nightlife with little notice. For the rest of Ray's life, he would remember the clicking sound her heels made when she left the bar — and would tell the story to anyone with a drink who would listen.

***

Joey folded one of his shirts absently as he looked out the window of the tall Sasugan building in which they'd stayed for the last three days. Most of that time was spent following Isellia around the station's bustling city, dodging traders and business people, avoiding the merchants who tried to lure them into shops to buy things they never knew they needed but suddenly felt compelled to buy. The last day out was nearly as dizzying as the first, and the feeling of being constantly overwhelmed with a barrage of stimuli never seemed to subside, though he had started learn to filter it out. The people he saw must have developed that filter, he thought, because they didn't share his look of awe every time he turned a corner.

The shirt he folded was brand new — he held a deep, dark green shirt he'd seen in a store window the day before. He had stood admiring it awhile and had nearly lost Isellia in the shuffle until she came back to drag him away. It was dark green with a black, jagged line running horizontally across the front. Joey didn't really care much for clothes but for some reason he liked it.

He probably wouldn't have bought it on his own. He passed the store again, and the shirt was gone. So he was surprised later to find a neatly wrapped package on his bed the next day. No note. No explanation. Only Isellia and Ayuuk were with him. He wasn't sure when he'd wear the shirt. He didn't want to get it dirty. It was something he didn't normally think about.

He looked up to see Ayuuk smiling at him through the doorway. She blushed when he turned to see her, though her smile remained. She made a clawing motion toward him, almost like a cat pawing at a string, then quickly darted away.

Joey didn't know if it was a girl thing, or a Sasugan thing. He shrugged.

***

Joey, Porter, Isellia, Rex, Stephen, and the robot stood in the entranceway of the house of their Sasugan host family. It was a traditional Sasugan parting ritual, to line up ready to thank their host for their hospitality during their stay. Joey fidgeted nervously, as did Stephen, since neither had any idea what was expected of them. As such, Joey's eyes kept darting between the more knowing members of the party, watching them for cues to follow.

Their hostess stood across from them, her thin, pale figure something Joey still wasn't quite used to, though it was something he no longer found shocking. Ayuuk stood behind her mother, a little bolder than earlier but still demure, holding a package she stared at shyly without daring to look up. She held a neatly wrapped box — was that for him? Was that a clue that the shirt had also been from her, or a clue that it was Isellia because this is what she's giving him? Why would it be for him in the first place? Maybe it's for the rest of the crew.

Isellia lacked Joey's curiosity, instead waiting impatiently for the start of what she knew would be a long ritual. "Here's an hour out of my life," she murmured, tapping her foot and blowing the bangs out of her eyes.

"It really takes an hour?" Joey whispered to her out of the corner of his mouth, happy to break the tension of waiting.

"Feels like it," she said, rolling her eyes.

Porter had been talking to their hostess, the Sasugan conversation unintelligible and inaudible to the other members of the party. Finally they exchanged salutes, and Porter took his place in the line.

"Joey, Stephen, just follow along and try to do what we do," Porter said. "Don't worry about getting it perfect, just show that you are trying your hardest. They appreciate it."

"That goes for you too, Isellia." Isellia made a derisive noise and rolled her eyes. Porter knew she would get through it as best she could, despite her attitude.

Porter resumed his stance in the line, but thinking of something, looked back. "You too, robot."

"Robot is programed with proper disengagement protocols," the robot answered.

"He meant try your best," Joey whispered.

"Robot does not try. Robot does."

"Anyway," Porter suggested, "let's begin."

What followed was a series of bows, gestures, spins and even a few shouts, the words of which Joey could hardly pronounce, let alone understand. The words were from an archaic form of Sasugan, words lost to everyday speech and only know for their role in ceremonious occasions such as these, which Sasugan culture has no shortage of.

After the final clap ended the ritual, Joey scanned everyone's faces, searching for approval or otherwise. Instead, he caught Ayuuk's face, who had been intently staring at him, but quickly dropped her gaze as their eyes met.

The hostess seemed to nudge Ayuuk forward, and she looked back briefly before shuffling in front of Joey. Her eyes never left the package she held through trembling hands. She stood there for a minute, seemingly unable to say anything, just staring down at her hands.

Ayuuk looked back at her mother a moment. "It's your decision," Fina said in Sasugan.

Then suddenly she thrust the object upward toward Joey's face, nearly shouting "Maramonoani!"

Joey looked blankly at the package Ayuuk held outstretched in front of him — a black laquer box wrapped in ribbon, inches from his face. He looked at the others quizzically, not sure at all what was expected of him. Rex snorted and the others seemed to be stifling the smile one finds when watching a rite of passage.

Isellia giggled at his side. "You better open it," she nudged, elbowing him in the ribs.

Joey's face turned red as he realized all eyes were on him, watching what he would do next. He took the box, looked at it a bit, turning it in his hand and looking at it from multiple angles. Ayuuk now had her hands at her side, and was staring at the floor.

"Oh jeezuz, open it, you dolt!" Isellia said, impatient to see what she knew was coming.

He carefully opened the box, pulling out the contents so everyone could see.

"Oh," Isellia exclaimed, "A Farsia cookie and an Okko ribbon." She seemed to be stifling a giggle, for reasons entirely unknown to Joey. The grin of inside knowledge found just about everyone's face besides his, making Joey even more uncomfortable.

Joey put the cookie and the ribbon back in the box and closed the lid, moving the box to one of his pockets. "Thanks," he said, as Ayuuk looked up at him in anticipation of his reply. "I'm sure it's a great cookie."

Joey smiled, thinking that was the end of it, but was interrupted by the sharp pain of Isellia's fist bruising his arm as he tried to pocket the box. "Joey, you idiot! You have to eat the cookie and tie the ribbon on your wrist!"

"Right now?"

Isellia rolled her eyes. "No, next week. Jeez!"

Joey was starting to become exasperated with the whole ritual. He kind of just wanted to hide on the ship, which seemed like a refuge compared with all this silliness.

Joey looked down at Ayuuk, whose gaze never left the ground. Her normally pale face was completely red. He looked at the box again, took out the cookie, and looked around at everyone again before took a bite of it. It tasted pretty good, though he made a show of it being the tastiest thing he'd ever ingested. He then tied the ribbon on his wrist, with Isellia instructing impatiently. Isellia looked on with glee, seemingly noting which wrist he'd put the ribbon on.

For the first time Ayuuk looked up at him, smiling brighter than he'd seen. She touched the ribbon a moment, a touch so gentle Joey barely felt it as she looked at him. Then she then turned and fled, disappearing from the room. Joey stood, holding the box, completely bewildered. His face was bright red, and he was at loss for speech.

Isellia turned to the robot. "Malfunction?"

The robot computed a moment. "Affirmative."

The others filed out the room, chuckling as they walked. Joey stood a moment longer, shaking his head before turning to board the ship, unaware that Ayuuk was still watching him from behind a doorway.

***

Joey stood with his bag in the cargo bay, awaiting his next orders and trying to put into perspective everything that had just happened. His first trip off-world had been both more than he could imagine and not at all what he'd expected. So much had happened, he almost felt like he didn't have time to really take it all in.

He thought about Ayuuk, his first foreign friend. Ayuuk seemed attached to him, as far as he could tell, though he really couldn't understand her entirely. She spoke very little to him, though he noticed she looked at him a lot. She always seemed to be addressing another member of the party when she spoke, but he noticed she seemed to look for his reaction, while trying not to appear to be doing so.

He looked at the ribbon tied to his hand. It was blue, with an interweaving, tribal design that seemed to transform from gold to silver as it caught the light. Sasugan lettering lined its edges. He hadn't thought about it at the time but started to realize it must be expensive. He wondered if it was some kind of friendship bracelet.

"Enjoy your first off-world trip?" Isellia asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He looked up, putting his hand down by his side as if hiding the blue ribbon. He couldn't have said why he did this.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You guess? Either you liked it or you didn't," Isellia said, rolling her eyes. She was fumbling with a panel next to him on the ship.

"So, what's next?" Joey asked. He could have pointed out that they had spent most of the time fulfilling Isellia's "shopping list," but decided to remain silent on that point.

"I heard something about a job, somewhere near where we're dropping Rex and — Stephen — off." She said the latter name by sarcastically emphasizing the "ee" sound. "Maybe Farven Point?"

"You don't like him, huh?" Joey didn't understand why Isellia seemed to resent him — most of the time he was so quiet everyone almost forgot about him.

"Eh, whatever," Isellia shrugged. She crouched down to check something underneath the ship's hull. She looked more closely at Joey's new ribbon, prompting Joey to do the same. "Sure is a nice ribbon."

"Yeah," Joey said. "It was nice of her to give it to me. I wonder what it means."

Isellia chuckled again, much like she did when he first received the ribbon. "I know what it means," she sing-songed.

"What? You do? What does it mean?" Joey was trying to circle in front of Isellia, who was turning away from him while stifling her laughter. He forgot himself and put his hand on her shoulder as he tried to get in front of her, but she kept turning away.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough." She started walking away, humming to herself innocently, but Joey persisted.

"Come on, tell me!" Joey followed her as she continued teasing him, accenting each turn with a louder hum. Her evasion only made Joey want to know more just what the ribbon meant, and Isellia wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. She was almost at a full run, almost laughing instead of humming as Joey pursued, when Porter called out: "Isellia, put your stuff away and get in position for takeoff."

She turned and stopped to listen to what Porter had said, snapping out of her playfulness like awaking form a dream. Joey didn't break out of the playful reverie so easily, however, and his momentum carried him straight into her. His face was cushioned from harm by landing in the middle of Isellia's blossoming chest.

There was a moment of silence, as Joey realized where he landed, and began backing away, nearly as red in the face as Isellia.

Isellia's eyes shut in anger, and sighed like a kettle boiling over as Joey slowly backed away, attempting to stammer an apology and nearly falling over himself. It was the first time he'd encountered that part of the female anatomy consciously, and his prepubescent mind didn't quite know how to handle it.

"Joey!!!!" Isellia shrieked, sending Joey into a full run. She began to stomp off after him, hands balled into fists, ready to exact the price for his prepubescent education.

Porter couldn't help but shake his head and laugh, temporarily waylaying his concern about their latest job. He'd picked up a job on the Sasugan station, a delivery to Farven Point, but that was hardly the job he was concerned about. Even Rex seemed to relax as a grin found his face. Suddenly, however, the grin was replaced by grim awareness, and his hand shot in front of his face faster than anyone in the launch bay could have seen.

Faster than a cat, Rex shoved Porter's considerably sized frame aside with one hand. Where Porter had been, and where Rex's arm still was, a thin needle stuck out of his arm, blood dripping on the shiny metal landing bay floor.

Before Porter could react, a shadow of a figure whisked into the bay, and almost as quickly, Rex sprang to meet it. The two figures barely registered at all as they lunged and dodged, bobbed and swung, kicked and blocked so fast that the rest of the crew could only watch in amazement. Isellia had completely abandoned her pursuit and stood dumbly watching, and Joey peeked out from the corner of the ship's door.

The separation of the two figures gradually disappeared as they merged into one, connecting as they continued to battle. Suddenly the attacker stopped, her hand extended out as Rex slid across the launch bay.

Only then did the crew get a glimpse of the attacker — an impossibly beautiful female with long dark hair, dressed in a tight, black outfit leaving little to the imagination, with high-heeled stilettos that somehow didn't make the slightest sound. Her arms, exposed between her sleeveless top and long, black gloves, revealed muscled, toned arms that simultaneously conveyed feminine grace and precision, and great strength. In fact, her persona wasn't that of a warrior engaged in the heat of battle, but was like a deep lake, its depths unruffled by interruptions on its surface.

She reminded them of Rex.

The glimpse was brief, however — Rex regained his footing and launched back in. The figures re-merged, moving impossibly fast, as the crew struggled to even watch. They realized they should be doing something to help, but had no idea how they could. Whatever was going on was far beyond their reach.

After a moment the dynamic changed, and something seemed to be banging on the floor. The movement began to slow, and soon they could all see what was going on: the woman in black slammed Rex to the ground repeatedly. Rex's movements grew slower and slower, and soon he seemed a rag doll that the woman was throwing around like child on a tantrum. Every time he tried to regain his footing, he ended up back on the ground.

Joey stopped staring at the scene briefly, long enough to notice Isellia. Her initial horror, which all of them had felt, had changed to anger, and she was red with rage.

Isellia shrieked, sprinting toward the woman. Porter tried to lunge his huge frame at her to stop her, knowing there was nothing she could do; but Isellia was too fast, quickly closing the distance.

Her fist was drawn back for a haymaker punch, but as she came around with it, Porter saw the attacker shift slightly as the blow landed home. Isellia's fist seemed to almost pass through her, and she found herself suddenly face up on the floor, having no idea how she had gotten there. She lay pinned beneath one of the woman's long heels, which dug painfully into her shoulder.

Porter stepped forward, hesitating at a look from the darkly dressed woman. "Isellia! Say something!"

She looked up in a daze, seemingly unsure what was holding her down. "Whuh?" She looked at Porter. "Something," she said woozily, seemingly unaware of where she was.

Porter looked away from her, grimacing at the attacker as she stood over Rex, knowing he couldn't do anything. He'd seen the way Rex fought when he took out most of the Company C goons himself, and knew that someone that could handle him that way wasn't anyone they could touch.

The woman, meanwhile, had Rex pinned to the launch bay floor; somehow, her arm held his wrist and her foot pinned Isellia in place. She looked at Isellia a moment and shrugged, lifting her heel and with a kick, sending Isellia back toward the rest of the crew who watched helplessly.

She seemed calm, pulling out a communications device from an unseen pocket.

"You're good," she said to Rex, who gave up struggling, knowing he could only break free if she made a mistake. "Best fight I've had in years. Don't be ashamed of this defeat."

"Not good enough, I guess," Rex said calmly, seemingly resigned to his fate. Everyone watched tensely, not knowing what was going to happen next, to Rex or them, but knowing there wasn't much they could do about it.

The assassin raised her comm device to her ear. "Well, I am a professional. Hey. This is you-know-who. Target is acquired, prepared to execute contract. I hope you got the money part worked out."

The bay was silent as the assassin nodded, everyone only hearing one end of the conversation.

"What do you mean?" the assassin said, looking agitated. "That wasn't part of the deal....No I won't...no, you pay immediately. This isn't the first time we've done this, you know....No, I don't care about budget cuts...Well, find the money from a different department."

The assassin's hand was on her hip, and she waved the comm device around, rolling her eyes. Rex continued to watch for an opening, but despite the heated conversation, she didn't waver the part of her attention that kept him pinned to the floor. The rest of the crew looked on in astonishment, not quite sure what to make of this ridiculous scene.

"Okay, listen, I...what? WHAT?" she sighed, shaking her head. "You are making a big mistake. I said 'A BIG MISTAKE!' No one crosses our syn— oh, you didn't just hang up on me?! Hey. HEY!"

She checked the device, seeing that it was off, put it back into a hidden pocket from somewhere.

She looked up at the crew surrounding her, almost as if noticing them for the first time. Rex of course knew that she was aware of them the entire time, but simply had no need to acknowledge them.

"Well, this is awkward," she said, looking down at Rex. "I believe I've just been downsized."

He looked up, grinning. "Guess I'm not worth that much after all."

"Would have been a shame to kill someone as skilled as you anyway." She looked down at him with a smile — not the look of someone ready to kill a moment ago.

"If I had to go, it'd have to be by someone as good as you." The two behaved as if they were the only people in the room. The rest of the crew were mute with bafflement, having absolutely no clue how to process the scene.

As the two looked at each other, seeming to share some kind of moment the others couldn't appreciate, soldiers dressed like those who'd attacked them earlier filed into the docking bay. They circled the room, armed with ROU rifles. They said nothing, but held the rifles at ready.

The assassin grinned slightly, eyeing the room out of her peripheral vision as she now understood their plan. It would have been cheaper to eliminate her once she'd finished the job than pay her high salary.

She decided right then that she would dedicate herself to making sure it cost them much, much more.

"Well," the assassin said, looking down to Rex. "Looks like things are about to get interesting."
