[IC] Escape from Syrae (Irell Starling)

[icicle]

Done

[Irell Starling]

Title of Recording: Hopper Day

One of my favorite days is Hopper Day. Well, I should really say two of my favorite days since Hopper Day occurs twice a year. Hopper Day is the last day before most of the Trader Ships go off world and head back to where they came from. In order to make sure they have enough room for all the raw materials they’ve picked up from Syrae, they have a last ditch sales day to get rid of any unwanted cargo. You can find just about anything for half the price of what you’d pay any other day. Plus you can find some super rare items, a music box from Chilong, pears from Venusala, even pet Makye…

The summer silk felt smooth and crisp under Ryen’s fingers. ”Do you have this is blue?” she asked the merchant who was eying her greedily. ”Blue more expensive,” the Beetlebung said, it’s snake-like mouth garbling the words of Common Tongue, ”Five and seven credits more.”

”Thirty-three credits more, maybe.” Ryen replied, replacing the thick mitten over her hand.

”Five and seven.”

Ryen shrugged. ” Maybe it’s worth fifty-seven credits more most days but today is Hopper Day. Thirty-three.” She hated dealing with Beetlebung. In general their demeanor was as hard as the fire red scales that covered their bodies.

”Silk is light and easy to carry back.” the Beetlebung hissed.

”Then that looks like what you’ll be doing with it.” With that she walked off and started to peruse the artifacts of another stall nearby. If her memory served, and it always did, that Beetlebung would lower their price by the end of the day. It was still early yet.

A news flash scrawled across the holo-screen in the corner of Ryen’s eye. Her heart skipped a beat as she turned to face it. She thought she saw… but no, it couldn’t be. She patiently waited until the words flashed again.

{Dr. Arleth found murdered in Park Square. Killers still at large.}

Ryen’s hands flew to her mouth as a silent scream escaped from her lips. Tears welled up and streamed down her cheeks as the words swam and blurred. Her father had been killed? Why had no one told her. Anger, terror, and grief overwhelmed her as she checked the communicator in her pocket. ”0 messages” flashed on the digital screen. Why hadn’t anyone tried to reach her?

Unbidden, a conversation from over three years played in her head. Her father’s voice so loud and clear, he could have been standing in front of her.

If something were to happen to me… No listen… If something were, now I’m not saying it will but if it does you need to access the safe in my workshop. You remember the code right…? No! Don’t say it out loud... I need you take the journal and burn it in a geothermal vent and you need to get off planet right away… That day! Do you understand? That day! They might go after you also.”

---

The grief was still raw as Ryen tore through her closet, trying to decide what she should pack and what she should leave. She’d been over to her father’s workshop. It looked like a Tiberian windstorm had ransacked the place. Green gobs of gloop, acidic from the smell they gave off, stuck to papers and pooled on cabinets and floorboards. The safe had char marks on it, like someone had tried to use explosives but the massive door had held. As she’d been instructed as a child, Ryen aligned her right palm on the handle and entered the 25 digit pin. On the fifth snap she pulled on the handle and the door swung open easily. Inside, amongst several stacks of papers were two volumes, her father’s research notebook and a small journal. Reaching her arm inside, she grabbed both before securing the safe again out of habit.

The whole time she’d been in her father’s workshop she’d been jumpy. Every creek of the floorboards or whisper of the thermal vents, responsible for piping in warm air from deep below Syrae’s crust, made her breath catch. She’d almost bolted out of the workshop.

And now she was here, scrambling around trying to figure out what was worth packing and what would have to stay behind. She had no idea where she’d be going or what climate she’d be living in next. Hot or Cold? Wet or Dry? Would there be free flowing water or trees? Snow shoes or sandals? Both? Neither? Normally if a citizen wanted to get off Syrae they’d take an Express to a different planet. But it could take days for her to secure a ticket that way. Her only hope was to hitch a ride with a Trader. It should have been easy enough since it was Hopper Day or so she hoped. The doorbell of her apartment rung. A screen by the door switched on, it’s job to display the faces of the visitors to the occupants inside. Ryen poked her head outside her bedroom door to take a look. The screen had been disconnected.

*

”Ursea” Ryen called out to her apartment’s AI. At first the computer program didn’t like responding to the name of the girl’s dead catermite but eventually it learned to respond after Ryen promised to come up with a more humiliating one. Like so many things in her apartment the AI had been upgraded by her father, and like so many of his creations, it tended to have a mind of its own. Ryen found its slightly argumentative demeanor endearing so she’d decided not to tweak the settings.

”Yes mistress Arleth?” it pronounced in a mechanical male voice that sounded a bit sardonic.

”Please scan our visitors, the visual door display isn’t working.”

Ryen mentally checked over her clothes again and began packing toiletries. It was amazing how little one really needed when push came to shove. Ursea’s announcement cut through the door bell ringing again. ”Their identity is unknown.”

Ryen pressed the latch of the large metallic purple handbag, it began vacuum sealing its contents, allowing it to shrink to a more manageable size. ”Well did you use the door camera to match Alexandrion’s facial recognition database?”

”Yes. Their identity is unknown.”

”Unknown” Ryen repeated, feeling a chill run down her spine. ”How can that be?” Everyone foreign who entered the city had to go through a security terminal where all their basic vitals were recorded and anyone who was a citizen had their information housed in the public data base almost from birth.

”There are several plausible explanations for…” but Ursea’s explanation was drowned out by something pounding on the thick metal door followed by a high pitch whine. Ryen wasn’t sure what they were doing but she was starting to have serious concerns. Like all the security doors in her expensive high rise apartment building, it was made of a strong, nearly impermeable Titantium alloy. These weren’t your average house breakers.

She wished she could go over what she packed again, but there wasn’t time. Now that the hand bag was deflated, it weighed just under ten kilos. Using detachable straps, Ryen created a cross over her chest and attached the bag to her back. After making sure it was secure, she walked over to the table by the door and grabbed the baby blue helmet that lived there. ”Ursea,” she said, loosening the bun at the back of her neck so the helmet would fit over her head. ”Please follow protocol seven-six-alpha-four-B.”

”I take it then that this is good-bye.” The voice almost sounded pain. Guilt lanced through Ryen’s heart. Somehow the argument that the program wasn’t a living, breathing entity didn’t make the kill order any easier. But Ursea’s predictive behavior meant it knew her almost better than she knew herself. If someone or something was coming after her, she couldn’t afford for them to get their hands on that kind of information.

”I won’t forget you.” Ryen pressed the release button for the balcony door.

”You rarely do.” It announced reassuring Ryen about her decision. No one besides her father knew for certain about the memory chip planted in her brain, but even the AI had an inkling that her brain function was not normal. ”Deletion at 45 percent”

Ryen pressed her hand against the finger print reader by the door. A small suction sound met her ears as the two glass panels slid apart. Cool air rushed against her face as Ryen pulled her jacket sleeves down more to cover her wrists. The city of Alexadrion was housed under a metal and glass dome but even the geothermal vents couldn’t keep out all the chill from planet’s -30 degree surface.

Outside her hover bike was sitting next to a few pots of Leaken Bush, a cold loving herbaceous plant that had fist-sized neon orange flowers. With a turn of a key, the old metal machine whooshed to life, its two bottom propellers creating clouds of dust beneath them. Without hesitation, Ryen alighted onto the bike and pushed the visor of the helmet down over her exposed eyes. Using her legs and the bikes propeller system, she lifted the beast over the metal balcony railing. Even from here the woman could still make out the sounds of the onslaught on her front door.

It been a year and a half since she’d rode. After a near miss, she’d promised her father she’d stop riding although she hadn’t bothered to throw the bike out. The stars knew it was too old to sell for anything.

”Please work,” she whispered, her words small puffs of mist. Could she still drive it? Would it handle the extra weight of her pack? It had always been a bit finicky even at the best of times. She certainly hoped so. Death by hover bike accident wasn’t one of the ways she preferred to go.

Before she could think she pushed forward.

Twenty-seven floors of balconies spiraled by as Ryen barrel rolled with her bike. It was a good thing she lived towards the top of the building. The bike’s motor had stalled a few seconds into the flight and had to be restarted. Even after righting herself and making sure her bag was still firmly attached to her person, Ryen’s stomach was in her mouth and red streaked across her eyes where her hair had fallen out of place. Shakily she turned the monster towards the cities Dock district. Buildings of metal and glass glittered in the late morning sunlight. Fortunately, since it was Hopper Day there wasn’t too much traffic on the cities inner skyways.

---

Ryen sighed feeling deflated. She should have expected this to happen. Less than an hour had passed since her arrival and she was mentally exhausted and physically tired from hefting around her bag and fiddling with her temperamental bike. Combing through Shipyard A and B had turned out to be a complete waste of time. Most of the ships had all the crew they needed. Unlike some destination planets, most of the workers that got off at Syrae got right back on again.

No one needed a mechanic with little experience. Oh sure, there were a few offers but unless she wanted to be shut up with a hodge-podge of mixed species crews that seemed disreputable at best or spend most of the flight on her backside with her ankles in the air, she didn’t have many options. Pink rose to her cheeks as she thought of one of the captain’s illicit suggestions. It was a shame garbage like that would be permanently stuck in her brain until the day she died.

Shipyard C seemed to be about as promising at the other two. This one was dedicated to smaller ships who carried crews of five or so. Sometimes, if there was extra room, they were known to take a civi or two for a price. She wasn’t the only one looking for a ride off world either. Quite a bit of Alexandrion’s citizens had interest in getting off world, either to visit their families or to relocate to another planet where prospects might be better. There were really three kinds of citizens in Syrae, those that worked in the mines, those that worked in science and technology, and those that worked for the miners or the scientists. Since Syrae was known to be a Federation safe haven and to have a stable government, well trained refugees were common. What that meant, however, was that current citizens received little upward mobility. Ryen had been fortunate to have her father, one of the planet’s most respected scientific minds, as a mentor. Most of her grade school friends hadn’t been so lucky. It wasn’t that the city didn’t have good schools, it was simply that they couldn’t keep up with the bright, technological minds the Federation churned out.

Someone shoved into her shoulder hard causing Ryen’s right knee to slam into the bike. ”Hey!” she growled waving her fist, ”Watch were you’re going.” Her irritation only increased when she saw it was a Snarkif, a large desert species with twelve eye stalks. One would think with all those it could have watched where it was going but not one of those stalks swiveled back to see if she was okay. Then Ryen heard yelling in the direction it had rampaged off to.

”Street fight?” Ryen wondered. They tended to be rare in the part of the city she frequented. Curious, she sped off in the direction. As she sped past the still running Snarkif, she made an offensive gesture that would have earned her a lecture from her always-diplomatic father.

She put on the breaks just in time to avoid slamming into a wall of people. Even with her helmet on, the roar of the crowd was deafening.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ”Pick me! Pick me!”
. . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . ”I need on!”
. . . . .. . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . I’m human… enough…”
. . . . . .”Please, we have a baby!”

Ryen tried to force her way closer to see what was going on but it was difficult. For a woman she wasn’t abnormally short but between the eye stalks, lengthened pinas (or outer ears), hair, fur, elongated snouts, and tusks it was impossible to see. ”What’s going on?” she shouted to the crowd around her but no one paid her any attention.

”… any of you want a shot at joining my crew, you better shut up!”

The voice sounded male and at least, somewhat human. Was it too much to hope for? The crowd around her grumbled but at least started to calm down. That was until he made his second announcement.

…I’m looking for the best of the best for my crew, and I’m not going to settle for anything less!

Then all chaos broke out again.

.. . . . .. . . . .. .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . ”I navigate”
.. . . .. . . .. . . . . ”I’m a cook!”
. . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. “No! I’m a better cook.”
.. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . ”I’m a doctor!”

A fight broke out to her right, two aliens physically arguing over who was better at their job. Ryen hopped on her toes and waved her hands in the air. ”I’m a mechanic!” she yelled, ”I’m a mechanic” It was useless. She doubted if she could be seen let alone heard through all the noise.

She had a crazy idea and only hoped it worked. Ryen set the break on her bike, now completely surrounded by the crowd. At first she tried standing on the foot pegs but she still couldn’t see over the top of the crowd. Carefully she crawled onto the small seat and started to stand. Once she lost her balance and had to grab onto her neighbor. Her hand came away blue and sticky. The Thyroback was clearly annoyed. From her new vantage point she could see the person who was leading the crowd. He looked young and bulky but at least he was human. Ryen began waving her hands in the air tentatively before going all out.

”I’m a mechanic!” she yelled out again, ”I’m a mechanic!” She felt more like a maniac, trying to get his attention while barley managing to stand on the seat of her bike. The ship next to him looked shiny and new. Would he even need a mechanic?

[icicle]

Done

[Irell Starling]

Title of Recording: Artificial Intelligence

“Artificial Intelligence (or AI) has been around for pretty much as long as machines have. The definition of intelligence is being able to understand logic, abstract thought, maintain understanding, and being self-aware. While artificial is something made or something… insincere. Then again, I’ve often found things with ‘normal’ intelligence can be just as insincere as well.”

Ryen continued to wave. He had to see her, he just had to. The crowd around her was a cacophony of voices and sounds. She felt less a part of herself and more a part of them. She was riding on the waves of energy, adrenaline pumping through her veins. There easily had to be a hundred of them crammed together. Some were angry, some were pleading, some were as panicked as Ryen felt, but none of them were happy. I was clear the ring leader wasn’t pleased by the situation also.

”…Shut up!”

Just like before the crowd quieted a bit. She could just barley hear him. Feeling a bit of her energy drained, Ryen lowered her arms to her side but continued to stand on the seat of her bike. She wanted to make sure she could see and be seen.

”Who said they were doctors?”

Ryen felt deflated as a few of the crowd pressed forward. Speculative whispers circulated throughout the crowd, making it impossible to hear what was going on. Before Ryen knew understood what was happening, the sound of a shot pierced through the air. The crowd angrily pressed forward and then back again. The tidal wave of bodies crashed against her bike, causing Ryen to lose balance. More noises exploded. Without warning she was on the ground amiss a tangle of legs, dangling tentacles, and other appendages. The swarm of bodies was still moving. Instinctively she curled into herself and covered her head with her arms. More shouting erupted from the front of the crowd. Someone cursed as they tripped over prone her body.

”You’re lucky that was a warning shot.”

”Up!” Something tugged at the back of her jacket collar, lifting her to her feet. ”You’ll get crushed down there.” Before she could thank him for the action, the man had already disappeared into the crowd. Up at the front, the ring leader announced something and all hell broke loose. The crowd became an angry ocean. In the distance she could hear an insistent high pitch beeping. Was it some kind of bomb? Ryen didn’t have long to think about it as human and alien alike started ramming into each other, in an effort to get away from the noise maker. Something slammed into her chest, hard, almost nocking the wind out of her. She felt dazed as she clung onto the handle of the bike, using it to anchor herself. Towards the center of the crowd she heard people yelling. The beeping started to speed up, then stopped altogether.

”… Welcome aboard!”

The crowd around her had significantly thinned, and Ryen could just make out through the crammed bodies, the face of the ringleader and the man who’d picked her up off the ground. ”What just happened?” Ryen said to a Beetlebung standing next to her. It did what, Ryen could only guess, was a kind of shrug.

Ryen continued to watch as the ringleader called on a rather shy woman. The woman had shiny brown hair and looked a few years older than Ryen. What the string of words she could catch the other woman was an information gatherer and she looked as frightened of the ringleader as Ryen felt. Around her, more people began to peel away from the crowd. The young woman looked to her left and saw there was a clear escape path. She was wasting time here, precious time she couldn’t afford to lose. Plus, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be a part of this.

”Who here is a mechanic!”

Ryen didn’t even have to think about it. ”I am!” Arms went up and waved in the air. Meanwhile the crowd around her bellowed their irritation. When the ringleader shouted for the mechanics to come closer, Ryen tried to obey. A nervous feeling sat low in her belly as she struggled to the front of the crowd. It wasn’t easy going, and a few members of the crowd made it purposefully difficult to pass. It didn’t surprise her that she was the last mechanic to arrive.

Ryen recognized a few in her group and from what little she knew about them, she suspected she had a good shot at the position. Dr. Zarks, a Alborege who arrived a few years ago, was droning on about his advanced bionics. Ryen turned her attention over to the crew members that had already been chosen now that she had a better view. All were young, although all were older than her. She didn’t recognize the doctor or the technician but Alexandrion was a big city so it wasn’t surprising. Suddenly, Ryen realized that the soldier from before was waving at her. Quickly she gave a small wave back and turned her attention to Dr. Zarks.

”And that is why I would make an impeccable mechanic aboard your ship.”

The girl eyed the ringleader, trying to judge his reaction to the Alborege’s speech. Indifferent? Uninterested? Neutral? The next alien mechanic launched into a speech about his research in the area of “The medical uses of easily grown biosphere flora”. Half-way through the speech Ryen let out a small sigh. Or at least she thought it was small, but from the looks she got from her fellow mechanics, it was obvious everyone heard her. Feeling sheepish, the young woman studied the cement floor.

By the fifth alien’s speech, Ryen felt jittery. Nothing any of them said seemed to have an effect on their ringleader. What was the man looking for exactly? She wished she knew why he’d picked the other crewmembers. Meanwhile her stomach was doing summersaults as she considered what she should say. There were plenty of good scientists here and other mechanics with far more experience then she had. Would he take pity on her if she told him why she needed to get off the planet immediately? The stern line of his mouth told her no. How to convince him then?

The six aliens stepped back, allowing the human mechanics some room. After some minor squabbling, the order of their speeches was decided, with the “real scientist” going first and the progeny going second. Ryen could barely hide her irritation at the woman standing next to her as she took a few steps forward on her fuchsia stiletto heels. She was the kind of woman other women liked to hate. She was tall, curvy, and had straight black hair that fell just past her shoulders. She was attractive and she knew it. Unconsciously, Ryen brushed off the dirt on her jacket from her fall.

”I am Dr. Sara Thif.” The woman announced and reached up to tuck a strand of black hair behind her ear. It reminded Ryen of the advice columns she used to scour through in grade school. ”Flirting isn’t just about words- it also involves body language! Touching your hair, making eye contact, leaning closer all show him you’re interested.” ”I think I would be a perfect addition to your crew.”

Ryen fought the urge to groan. Had the woman really purred the last word? She’d just have to hope the ringleader wasn’t picking up what this lady was dropping. ”I assisted Dr. Kenth, the Dr. Kenth in the discovery of a method for re-application of anti-ionization anodes.”

”I also helped him!” this came from the gentleman at Ryen’s right. He had blonde hair streaked with grey and a clean cut suit. One look from Dr. Sara Thif, however silence him.

”As I’m sure you know,” she continued on, her cantor still smooth as silk, ”Anti-ionization anodes are critical in a ship because they prevent ordinary wear and tear.”

”From uncontrolled oxidation or in layman’s words, rusting.” This was from the man again.

”Yes, Dr. Perthel, I was getting to that. They are also used in water recycling units to combine with the excess chemicals used during the treatment process. This creates larger particles that can then be filtered out.”

”As I’m sure you’re aware, these rods must be replaced periodically, and are quite costly. As of yet no one has been able to find a way to recharge them. Well, I mean there are ways, but they end up being more costly that the original…”

”Dr. Kenth and I discovered that there was a way to reuse these rods. Anodes, as I’m sure you’re aware, release electrons and therefore start the flow of current. By double oxidizing the anode with the aid of a demagnizer, you can easily charge an energy cell.”

Ryen felt like she was sitting in the middle of an air-tennis court, as the two scientists lobbed words back and forth across her head.

”You’re boring him, Dr. Thif. What he really wants to know about is the combat capabilities. Under Dr. Kenth, I looked into…”

”Who cares about that? Most ships are loaded up with more than enough fire power. Taking out a few collision meteors is the child’s play. What you should really be using the rods for is extra power to…”

They argued back and forth for a good five minutes, until both finally calmed down enough to realize the ring leader didn’t appear to be interested in them anymore. This was ideal since Ryen was still standing in between them and once or twice she was worried they’d come to blows.

”So then,” the ringleader said frowning, ”Why are either of you special?”

Ryen was so stunned by the question, she forgot what she had planned on saying. Why was she special? Well for one, her genius of a father implanted a memory chip in her brain when she was a child. And for another, someone had just murdered that same father and was possibly, no probably, going after her next. But she wasn’t about to tell this stranger that. Especially, when he eyed them like they were flecks of lint. Well then, what should she say? But the man on the other side of Dr. Thif spoke up before Ryen could even open her mouth.

”I’m special because I graduated second in my class. I’ve been a mechanic on three different ships, one that flew all the way to Trina Eriva. And, unlike those two, I’ve got real world experience. Sure you can sit in a lab all day and twiddle your thumbs and work on meaningless things like laparoscopic antenna and using old anodes to power fuel cells, but in the end how useful are they?” Ryen peered around Dr. Thif to look at the speaker. Something in his words didn’t add up. If he was a scientist’s child and he graduated second in his class, why was he only working as a mechanic? ”As for her,” Ryen almost jumped as the man met her eyes, ”The only thing special about her is her father. I suppose you must want to get out from under his shadow.”

Ryen just continued to stare at the man. She didn’t understand his venom towards herself nor did she remember them meeting before right now. It wasn’t too surprising that he recognized who she was though. Her father had always been big about publicity.

”He’s right,” Ryen said, looking into the ringmaster’s deep blue eyes. ”I’m not special.” The crowd that had gathered started to settle down a bit, but Ryen couldn’t hear that because of the ringing in her ears. What was she doing? This was not the speech she mentally rehearsed. ”My father is Dr. Arleth, most known for his contributions to Artificial Intelligence. In fact most AIs from automated trash collectors to merchant and cargo-ships have had their logi-tecx matrix improved by my father. I am not my father, but I have worked under him all my life.”

”The AI is the brain of a ship, but the mechanic is her limbs. She tells them was is wrong and it’s their job to fix it. A ship is useless if her mechanic doesn’t know what they’re doing.” She turned to the three people by the ship’s airlock, ”And a crew is useless without a ship.” The man in the white lab-coat, the one Ryen assumed was the doctor, just shrugged. She didn’t like that he seemed so careless. She didn’t like that he smoked. She didn’t like that he wore his lab coat around like an overcoat- the purpose of the garment being to protect the patient and the doctor and help promote a sanitary environment. Ryen very much doubted that coat could have been called sanitary for a while. The solider smiled. The female technician shuddered.

”Besides being an adept mechanic, I have other skills.”

”Yeah, like what?” this reply came from the same prodigy.

”Well, I can…” This part was hard. This went against everything she’d been taught. For years she’d go to school and learn the basics and then she’d go home and the real work would begin. Every evening, most weekends. During dinner, after story time. Languages, word definitions, the history of the Federation, important scientific advancements, a basic catalogue of alien races, the stats of thirty-seven planets under the Federation’s control, native plant species of Syrae, the placement of major galaxies. Simply hearing it and repeating it back wasn’t enough. Sometimes she had to read it, sometimes she had to write it, sometimes she had to build it. Short term memory can hold about nine facts. But simply putting something into short term memory is not enough. Information must be placed in my brain’s long term memory in order for the memory chip there to work.

At first Ryen’s father tutored her out of the sheer fun of learning. Then it became a sort of challenge to him to see just how much information she could store and recall. Her mother didn’t like it, and thanks to her urgings Ryen some much needed breaks in the routine. As Ryen got older, her father’s attempts to stuff information into her brain became more adamant. She started to rebel. She couldn’t understand the point of knowing everything if she couldn’t show it. She hated playing dumb.

Her parents fought more often while Ryen struggled to memorize the information in the books her father bought. Sometimes it took hundreds of times for her brain to place information into long term memory. Sometimes the facts were wrong. But sometimes it only took once. She could still remember what her father’s voice sounded like when he explained that her mother wasn’t coming back. How the house felt when there were no arguments. Ryen was only eleven at the time.

After that, her father stopped tutoring her, out of guilt, and turned his attention to other pursuits. Two years back, when school ended, she started working with her father again. Only this time the research wasn’t focused on Ryen. Ryen was just one of many lab assistance in her father’s perpetual obsession with intelligence- artificial and otherwise.

”I can speak three languages fluently,” she announced, offer a broad smile. ”Common Tongue, obviously, and intergalactic Shgardunish, and…”

”I can speak five.”

”Five?” a red eyebrow went up as she peered around Dr. Thif. Even the two human scientists seemed surprised at the man’s statement. ”Really, five different languages fluently?”

Just like the good doctor, the man shrugged. ”It’s not that difficult.”

Ryen bit back the urge to call him a liar, it was childish even if it was true. ”Well, I also…”

”No one cares.”

Ryen fumed. Around her she could feel the crowd growing restless. This entire affair had gone on long enough. She needed to think of something fast. Then it occurred to her, if the ship was as new as it looked, it was possible it had an AI designed by her father.

”Ship, 706-55539,” she said reading off the ship’s front plate, ”-20193-883. I am assistant 7099 colon gamma 5. I need you to run a quarry for me.” She waited for the ship to reply but nothing happened. Ryen went on regardless. ”Would it be possible for me to use the verbal code 78-hexaB22998-1-57 to override your weapons controls and order you to shoot this man?” she pointed to the mechanic who’d been harassing her.

”No.”

It was a distant sounding mechanical female voice.

”Please repeat,” Ryen commanded.

It was slightly louder this time. ”No.”

”And Why not?” Ryen said feeling bemused instead of annoyed, her arms folded across her chest.

”Because you’re not the captain.”

[icicle]

Done

[Irell Starling]

Title of the Recording: Definitions 00076

“Des-per-a-tion. Noun. A state of despair, typically one that results in rash or extreme behavior. Example: My excuse for joining up with Lazlo was sheer desperation.”

Ryen wanted to jump out of her skin as the ring leader’s face got within inches of her own. She was suddenly aware how much bigger and stronger he was and it was all too clear her actions hadn’t put him into a good mood. But she didn’t step back and she didn’t look away.

”That’s enough of that, miss.”

Ryen swallowed hard as she felt the blood drain from every part of her face but her cheeks. She was embarrassed about her desperate attempt for approval. Even if she needed to go off world, it did not excuse her childish behavior. She knew better. Her own inner turmoil affected her more than the stranger’s words ever could have. Instead of seeing how her companions reacted to the AI incident, Ryen studied the sealed concrete under her boots.

She could feel the ring leaders gaze rake across her, as he took in the mechanics. Yet her eyes remained lowered. ”Maybe I should just leave?” Ryen thought worrying at her lip. ”Obviously he’s not going to pick me. I’m just wasting time here.” Nevertheless, what little dignity she still currently possessed rooted her to the spot.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly although no more than a few minutes had passed. Even without looking up, Ryen could feel the crowd at her back was getting restless. Feet shuffled anxiously, claws clicked together, murmurs became angry rumbles. Even she couldn’t help fidget, shifting weight between her legs.

Without warning something slammed into her side, making her stumble. Ryen whipped her head around just in time to see a Roxrell barreling towards the ship’s main entrance. Beside her, Dr. Perthel yelled in protest. The crowd began to push forward, eager to see what was about to happen next.

“I’m getting out of here!”

Ryen opened her mouth, intended to add her voice to the protests. It never came. As quickly as the creature ran forward, it sped in the opposite direction, a sickening crunch the only explanation for its maneuver. It toppled over a few feet from where she was standing, one blue, horse-like foot trapped under the green whale-like torso of its body. Its mouth hung open in agony, double rows of flat incisors flexing in the wind for all to see.

Ryen turned her attention back to the ring leader just in time to see him brushing off the solider. Her brows furrowed as she looked between him and the wounded Roxrell on the ground. It was clear he’d done something… something brutal. When she looked back at him, she found he was walking closer, any pretense of calm now vanished from his features.

Unconsciously, Ryen stepped back at his approach. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as instinct told her to run. But the murmurs of the crowds grew louder, words of various alien languages forming an unending hum, like an angry hive. She could almost feel the heat of their anger. Ryen didn’t have to turn around to know they were edging closer.

His piercing eyes studied her as if they were trying to seep in and read her deepest thoughts. Ryen shuddered under the scrutiny and let go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he gaze turned to the other prodigy. A few moments later his eyes changed their focus, studying something behind them.

In the blink of an eye, his weight shifted and he stepped towards her. His hand, warm and firm, clamped down on her upper arm. ” Welcome aboard, sunshine.”

”I’m not your…” but her words were lost in the roar as she was practically drug towards his ship. Behind her she could hear the other mechanics protesting the decision. Dr. Perthel reached out to pull on the girl’s hair as she passed but fortunately caught only a few red strands. Her escort turned his attention back to the crowd as they walked and Ryen followed his gaze.

Her mouth went dry when she saw metal flash in the skylights. A couple of aliens in the crowds were brandishing weapons. They weren’t really going to shoot, were they? Where was the dock patrol when you need them. This is getting out of hand! But she knew. Most of them were probably either off for the holiday or patrolling through the shopping areas. ”Damn it!” she cursed. A small niggling in her brain reminder her about the danger of her real situation. Maybe these gun waving aliens weren’t your average travelers, maybe they had somehow tracked her from the apartment?

Another glint of metal shone off the pistol in the ring leader’s hand. A deafening pop rang in her ears as he emptied a round into the gathered crowd. Was it her imagination or had something just screamed in agony. Not wanting to look, Ryen buried her face in her free arm, all the while still being drug closer and closer to the ship.

Suddenly people were standing around her as the ship’s outer metal door slid together. For a heart stopping moment, an alien from the crowd rushed towards them before the air lock was completely in place. The young woman turned away, expecting the impact to come. If the thing really had been desperate enough to charge at the closing doors, the sliding panels would have split its body in two. And if that were the case, she didn’t want to witness it.

Ryen only looked up after the airlock’s tell-tale click echoed through the small chamber. Thankfully no bits, alien or otherwise, littered the floor. The room was almost silent in comparison. She let out a sigh of relief and found she wasn’t the only one.

A dull pounding noise from outside reminded the crew that they weren’t out of the hot water yet. Ryen rubbed her right arm, the one the ring leader had used to pull her from the crowd. Now that her nerves were calming down the little minor throb was starting to bloom into a vengeful ache.

”Glad you made it, kid,” she felt her hair being mussed up by the solider behind her.

”Me too,” she whispered back.

”Alright… If I give a command, it is to be followed exactly as I say it. Any insolence or insubordination will be severely punished. IS THIS CLEAR?”

Was it clear? As clear as glass. As clear as the Peruviant sky. If it hadn’t been clear by the way the man had selected his crew, treated the Roxrell, or shot into the crowd, it was irrefutably clear now. Ryen was on a ship with a brutal dictator. If not for the continued noises from outside, she would have considered jumping ship, but that possibility was now lost.

The solider recovered from shocking speech first. ”Sir, yes, sir. Uh, captain.” he said, offering Lazlo a salute. The poor technician stuttered her assent. The woman looked like she was going to fall on the floor, right here and now. The doctor just nodded after reach down and picking up his dropped cigarette.

”Fine.” The word came out of Ryen as a soft exhale. It didn’t sound quiet as placating as it ought. Fortunately the AI’s announcement saved her from whatever wrath the captain would bring down on her head, or so she hoped.

”Notice: Unauthorized hull maintenance detected. Activating level-one hull shielding.”

”Can we leave?” Ryen suggested, still cradling her arm. ”Soon. Please. Captain? The last word was tacked on at the end. As if to answer her question, the hazard door slid open and Ryen slipped through to the main hull. ”I’m going to go to the shielding subsystem panel. We don’t want to lose it all before we breach the atmosphere.” Most ships had two panels to control the ship’s shielding. The first, and main one, was in the cockpit, but she didn’t want to be in the captain’s way, nor did she want to be around him anymore than necessary. The second would be in the shielding subsystem itself.

The air inside this hallway had a sterile feel to it, like it’d stayed clean for too long. A few doors down she located the center elevator and took it to the middle floor where she was hoping she could find the correct control panel. Unfortunately the glass doors didn’t close fast enough and the doctor managed to squeeze in. He didn’t say anything, just subbed his spent cig against the elevator’s metal door frame. Ryen glared over at the man.

A chime announced they were on the next floor and Ryen stepped out into the eerily impersonal corridor. The man, thankfully, only followed her as far as the threshold. Leaning back against the wall, he reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled another cigarette from its case.

”Level-one hull shielding at 75 percent and dropping. Evasive maneuvers recommended.”

Ryen looked down both sides of the corridor. She wasn’t familiar with the layout of the ship and the rooms weren’t as clearly labeled as she would have liked.

”Ship!” she called into the air.

"Yes, mechanic"?" The female voice almost sounded snippy.

”I need to locate the control panel for the shielding substation.” Ryen called.

”Three doors down on your left.”

She found the panel soon enough. Red words across the top of the screen indicated the shielding was holding steady at 67 percent. Ryen cursed under her breath and preyed Lazlo was getting ready for take-off at this very moment.

”You know,” the doctor said, taking in another drag, ”I figured the shields would do better.”

”This is different,” Ryen said and shook her head, ”The shields are designed for large impacts like asteroids and missiles or they have the ability to diffuse a single large charge over an even larger space, like when the ship gets hit by a laser rifle. The shields weren’t designed to be pounded on by a bunch of angry aliens.”

Carefully she unlatched the pack across her back and set it at her feet. Pain lanced through her right arm as she reached for the control screen. Sweat beaded off her brow as Ryen entered an override code and began scrolling through various maintenance sections. Like many of the processes on the ship, the shields were usually powered by excess turbines on the ship’s engines. Nevertheless, the shields could easily obtain power from the energy reserves. She swiped her fingers across again and cursed, although this time it wasn’t from pain.

”Ship. The reactor core is only showing fifteen percent. What the hell is going on?” The pain of her arm on top of a growing sense of panic was putting her on edge.

”The core is warming up.”

”Warming up? Since when do uranium-tri oxide cores need to warm up?”

”The first time they are turned on.”

Ryen’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ at the AIs response. She had guessed this ship was new. She hadn’t known it was that new. ”Is that all, mechanic?” There went that snippy town again.

”Yes, Ship.”

For the moment there was not much else she could do besides hope that their captain was all but ready with his preparations. Given enough time and energy, the hull shielding could repair itself. Feeling emotionally exhausted, Ryen slumped to the floor right beside the panel.

”Seems to be pretty difficult.” This came from the doctor who, the woman suspected, had been watching her the whole time.

”Don’t you have anything better to do?” she spat.

”I suppose,” he walked over to her and kneeled down. Before Ryen knew what was going on, he was touching her, his strong hands planted on her right elbow, the other on her shoulder. Only a few words of protest escaped Ryen’s mouth as a dizzying pain lanced through her arm. Then, just as suddenly it felt much better. Satisfied with his work, he released her and began ruffling through his pockets. After pulling out a few metal objects he finally produced a lime green sucker wrapped in clear plastic.

He handed the object to Ryen and patted her on the head, eyes full of amusement. ”Try not to dislocate that again. Okay?”

[icicle]

Done

[Irell Starling]

.

[Irell Starling]

Ryen eyed the treat with ill-humored irritation. She was about to tell the good doctor just where he could put the lollipop when the captain’s announcement boomed over the ship’s intercom. “…As the reactor core of our ship begins to warm up, I invite you to listen to the following announcements…” Her ears instantly perked up when the word ‘subsystem’ was mentioned but her mood didn’t improve much from there.

”Limited control?” Ryen protested out loud, ”Assigned rooms?”

”It seems our good captain Lazlo Czartes has everything under control.” the doctor replied when the announcement had finished, still holding out the sucker for her to take.

”More like captain ‘just’ Lazlo Czar.” Ryen mumbled stretching out the last word. The outstretched candy seemed to have an inner glow under the florescent lights. ”Is it lime?” Ryen said, changing the subject.

”Snotsberry.”

”Good enough.” Ryen was too disgruntled to even take offense when the man patted her head once again before standing back up. Surprisingly, even though the taste was bitterer than she would have liked, she did actually feel better. However, by the time Ryen remembered to thank him, the doctor had disappeared into one of the doors down the hallway, leaving her alone.

Sitting all alone on the pristine floor of the ship’s corridor, licking her newly acquired treat, felt almost surreal. ”This morning I woke up in my apartment. By tonight I’ll…” The whisper caught in her throat, the taste bitter in her mouth. So much had changed. She’d never really appreciated what she’d had and now it was all gone. And it wasn’t just her apartment with its neat, organized closets or her big plush bed with Sandarian silk sheets. Her job, her friends, her father. Gone. All gone. Sure she’d been warned about the possibility, that one day she’d have to flee off planet, she’d just never really thought, well, it was possible. And now here she was, practically a stow-away on a ship bound to who-knows-where with a bunch of strangers and an overbearing captain. A single tear trickled down from her cheek and Ryen hurriedly reached up to brush it away. She wouldn’t cry, at least not where the others would see her. Mentally shaking herself, Ryen forced her body to stand.

”Ship…er… I mean, Maria?” Her voice quavered a bit.

”Yes?”

”I would like the location of my quarters.”

Her assigned room was only a few doors down from the substations although safely on the other side of a main airlock. Ryen pressed her palm against the reader outside the door, registering her prints to the assigned room. The door slid open as the overhead lights flicked on. Ryen was in the process of taking in her new home when the floor rushed up to greet her. By the time Lazlo switched back on the anti-gravity, and avoided hitting the ceiling of the docks, Ryen’s face had been intimately introduced to her cabin’s carpet. As if to offer an excuse, the captain’s voice buzzed over the ship’s intercom.

”My apologies for the sudden movement… just in case of further turbulence, I suggest you find an anchor somewhere on the ship.”

”Make that overbearing and slightly incompetent.” she mused to herself. She hoped he figured out what he was doing before he wrecked the ship, or worse, kill them. If it did come she hoped it was in the form of a fiery inferno versus the slow suffocation of an air leak.

Following directions, Ryen stepped inside her room. Like the rest of the ship, this place also held an impersonal feel to it. It was small, easily fitting in the bedroom of her old apartment, but with some personal touches the place might eventually earn the term ‘cozy’. One wall was made entirely of metal shelves framed with clear plastic doors meant to secure and house personal artifacts. Opposite of that was a small metal desk bolted to the wall. A few buttons revealed that it could be folded up and pushed in to give the inhabitant a little more room. Other than that there was an uncomfortable metal chair, a bed, ergonomically designed to conform to one’s spinal column, and an oval-shaped window that let out to the exterior of the ship.

Ryen sat down on the bed and watched as Syrae’s surface fall away. Below them the bubble shell of her city shimmered under the late afternoon light, a crystalline bubble in a merciless snow globe. Ryen’s thoughts turned inward as she worried at her bottom lip. Eventually the view revealed that the ship had just breached the planet’s stratosphere. Nimbus clouds, heavy with snow that fell almost perpetually to the planet’s surface, spread out below like bunches of cotton down below. In almost no time their distinct shapes blended together forming a white blanket. The sky in the distance was still blue, but soon enough it would darken and take on the empty blackness of space.

”Oh!”

Ryen almost jumped out of her skin as an almost hidden door next to her desk slid open. The face of technician from before appeared from behind the panel.

”Sorry,” she said hurriedly, looking around Ryen’s cabin. ”I didn’t realize our rooms were connected through a central washroom.”

Ryen continued to stare at the other woman, not quite sure what to say. Her thought had been wandering so far off that her mind could have been on one of the planet’s moons. ”That’s good to know,” she finally replied, offering up a genial smile.

The two women looked at each other as the awkward silence continued. Ryen quiet know how to excuse herself without offending the fragile technician. Just when she was about to blurt something, the other woman spoke up. ”You don’t happen to have any soil in that bag do you?” Ryen shook her head. ”Blowtorch?” Ryen shook it again. ”A sotz-blaster? Hyperium alloy? Gogenium fabric?” Each time the woman suggests something Ryen shook her head. ”It’s mostly clothing.” Ryen supplied. Mostly but most certainly not all. Guiltily she remembered that she hadn’t disposed of her father’s journals like she’d promised she would. Well she could worry about them later and their presence aboard the ship wasn’t something she felt like advertising. She doubted if any of the crew would even know what to do with them.

The room went silent again and was only interrupted by the tiny gurgle of the young woman’s stomach. ”Sorry,” Ryen confessed. ”I don’t think I’ve eaten anything since breakfast.”

”There might be some food in the Galley,” the technician suggested. ”I could show you… if you like.”

The Galley, as it turned out, was further down the hallway on the same floor. Ryen wasn’t too surprised to see that both the good doctor and the solider were already there. A centralized metal table held enough seating to accommodate a group of seven while metal cabinets filled up the walls.

”Welcome ladies to our combination food court, recreation hall, war room, and sickbay!” the solider announced as he popped a small jelly-topped cracker into his mouth.

”Sick bay?” Ryen questioned.

”Sick bay.” the doctor stated as the women took seats opposite of the men, keeping the seat at the head of the table empty. ”It’s the only table I’ve found large enough in the ship to perform surgeries on.”

Both Ryen and the technician grimaced at the prospect, especially when a rough piece of lox splattered on the table’s mirror-like surface.

[Irell Starling]

.

[icicle]

Done

[Irell Starling]

One could almost see the drool pooling out of the soldier’s open mouth as he eyed steak. He wasn’t the only one. Out of the corned of her eye she could see both the doctor and the technician openly eying the meal. The mechanic however wrinkled her nose at the red liquid pooling onto the plate. Her father had for, whatever reason, cooked dishes including meats thoroughly. And even though she knew that the red juice running of the captain’s steak knife wasn’t “technically” blood, she wasn’t tempted by his meal. Which was honestly a good thing, since he didn’t look like the type of person who liked sharing.

”Any of you ever heard of a replicator…?”

Ryen didn’t have to look at him to feel that he was judging them and finding them wanting. Red spots bloomed across the technician’s cheeks as she fumbled for the device in her bag and began feverishly typing on it. The doctor shook his head while the solider replied with a quick, ”Nah, but that’s pretty neat.”

Ryen herself shrugged. She should have recognized the machine but she hadn’t. The ship she’d worked on that one summer had had a replicator. But the thing was either too old or poorly made or second-hand. She’d used the thing once or twice and the food had tasted god-awful. Fortunately, the ship didn’t travel great distances and she’d been able to stock up on fresh supplies. From the smell wafting off of Lazlo’s plate, the ship’s replicator was at least ten times better. Even so, she didn’t want to admit her mistake to their captain.

”The crackers were already open when I came in,” she replied aloofly, ”I didn’t see a point just allowing them to go stale.”

”Well,” said the solider, trying to break up the tension heavy in the air around the small table, ”Since we’re all here, why don’t we introduce ourselves.” He paused briefly before saluting ”Gunther Karlstock, at your service.”

”Ellie, I mean, Eleanor Falder” the technician pronounced, her words hardly above whisper. She continued to look down at her device while she spoke. ”You can all me Ellie.”

”I’m Quincy Stertjan” the doctor pronounced.

A single red eyebrow shot up as Ryen let out a snicker. ”Quincy?” What back water planet had that name crawled out of?

”Quincy is a traditional name in my family but it’s Dr. Stertjan to you, young lady.” He tone was patronizing but his eyes still sparkled with humor.

”You all know who I am,” Ryen stated. She had introduced herself earlier although it was possible they’d been too distracted by the raging crowd at her back. ”Ryen Arleth.”

”Arleth?” Karlstock echoed. ”Sounds familiar,”

”Yes.” Ryen nodded a smirk forming across her face, ”It’s a traditional name in my family. My father is the famous inventor Dr. James Arleth. I mentioned that before.”

”As in the Dr. Arleth who was found murdered this morning.” This came from Quincy. It was a statement more than a question.

Ryen felt her blood run cold as panicked thoughts ran through her brain. How had the doctor found out? Most likely the same way she had- he must have heard it on the news flash. A quick survey of the other faces in the room revealed that her companions greeted the news with suspicion or indifference (feigned or otherwise). What should she say to them? Her father had just died and she’d taken the first ship she could find off planet. Guilty was too mild a word for her actions. What if she told them the truth? That someone had broken into her father’s workshop and were most likely the same people who had tried to come after her in her apartment. Ryen thought about her crewmates. Some might try to protect her, true, but others might use the situation to their advantage. The technician and the soldier seemed nice enough but she doubted they’d take her side if push came to shove. She didn’t know about the doctor and as for their captain..? Heck, he might even be tempted to sell her back to the people who broken into her apartment for a tidy profit. In her head, she could still hear the wailing sounds of the injured aliens and the shots fired into the angry crowd. No. It was better if they didn’t know.

Ryen opened her mouth, as her brain tried to come up with a passible lie. If she’d been quicker, she might have been able to feign surprise at the news of her father’s death.

”Yes. I was…” but her confession was thankfully interrupted by an announcement by the ship’s AI.

”Captain. A Syrae patrol ship is pulling up beside us. They are requesting to board.”

[icicle]

Done

[Irell Starling]

Title of the Recording: Doctors 0738

“While you can't always judge a book by its cover, you can judge a doctor by their lab coat. After all was said and done, I knew I should have known better.”

Ryen let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding as captain disappeared behind the sliding door of the mess hall, the technician shortly on his heels. Within a few seconds even their resident solider, Gunther ”Gun..ther? Ironic?”, was heading for the door although she noted that he turned in the opposite direction.

”I wonder what’s going on.” Ryen wondered out loud before bringing another lox covered cracker to her mouth. She was a little surprised that her hand didn’t shake. Meanwhile her mind was whirling with possibilities, and imagining the various conversations Lazlo was having with the Syrae patrol ship. Ryen reached and gracefully wiped off her hands with a nearby napkin. ”Maybe it’s a routine thing since we’re on a new ship.” Her hands folded neatly into her lap. ”Or maybe our gracious captain stepped on one too many feet. That wouldn’t be too surprising.” Through her lashes, Ryen noticed that the doctor was still looking at her. His gaze looked curious and remote at the same time, similar to the way her father would stare at a new mechanical model. It almost felt like Quincy was trying to somehow dissect her and made her feel discomforted and gross at the same time.

”What!?” Ryen snapped, her eyes suddenly meeting his.

”I was waiting for your response.”

Ryen pursed her lips. She didn’t need to ask ‘to what?’. She already knew. ”Yes. As in the Dr. Arleth who was found murdered this morning.” In her lap, her fingers slid back and forth across one another. Try as she might to hide her emotions, but the distress was plain to see. ”It was… quite a shock.”

The dam she had hid behind was starting to crack under the pressure, threatening to flood her with the emotions she’d avoided over the past hours. Her eyes began to glaze over, but she was holding the water at bay- at least for now.

”I’d imagine so. Where you close?”

The first image that popped into Ryen’s head was her father turned away, stopped over a workstation. This was quickly replaced by another image where her father was leaning in, looking at the paper in front of her. His face was blurred in her peripheral vision but she didn’t need to turn her head to see that he was frowning. ”Close enough. Why?”

Quincy shrugged nonchalantly. ”Maybe I just like to get to know people? Or maybe I just like to make sure that if I’m going to get stabbed in the middle of the night, I know who it was.”

It said it with such a lack of affect that it was difficult for Ryen to determine if he was being serious or being sarcastic. Maybe neither. Maybe a little of both.”

”If you’re dead, then why does it matter?” Ryen replied, trying to lighten the mood.

To that comment the doctor merely reached into his lab coat and pulled out a cigarette. Within seconds a line of smoke was spiraling towards the ceiling and he was leaning back in the chair. ”You know that things kill you, right?” Ryen suggested, her disgust evident.

”What!?” he said glancing at the cigarette in his hand. ”These things!? And here I thought they were the universal cure for common cold. I can’t believe I’ve been lied to for all these years!” his tone sounded almost genuinely surprised. ”I never would have suspected that they would be killing me the entire time, slowly leaching the very life…”

”Enough!” Ryen chuckled, ”I get it!”

”I’m glad.” Quincy said, taking another drag, ”And besides, if I had a choice, I’d rather die by cigarette than being murdered by you in the dark on night… wouldn’t you agree Gunther?”

At some point the solider had returned, slightly more armed than before. Currently he’d found his way over to the replicator. Ryen wondered how much of the conversation he had caught. He didn’t bother to turn around but continued to study the complicated machine in front of him. ”I’m not really a fan of being murdered, myself.”

Ryen snorted. ”Well that’s good. I’m not really a fan of murdering people.” As if on cue, that was the exact moment their captain walked back through mess room door. Something about his presence made her wish she could take back the comment. Fortunately it appeared he hadn’t heard.

”If you want a steak the code is… the recipe book is in the drawer under the replicator.”

There was something about Lazlo that made Ryen want to slump down into her chair a little more especially when the man took his seat at the head of the table. While Quincy might be modeling indifference, their captain seemed almost placid, like a clam lake with a sleeping kraken underneath that was waiting at any moment to appear and drag you down to it water depts. Sure he was sitting there, smiling away, friendly as could be… for now. Maybe you could afford to be friendly every now and again when you were an overpowering brute.

Gunther took the same seat he had occupied before, crackers now replaced by a steaming dish of steak and potatoes. The soldier looked like he’d gone to heaven and was certainly piling food into his mouth at a rate that made Ryen thin he’d end up there pretty soon if he didn’t stop to breath every now and again. Ryen glanced around the table. She wasn’t the only one showing interest in Gunther’s eating habits.

”Speaking of getting to know people, what did you do before being a member of this fine crew?” her question was directed at Quincy, but Gunther momentarily stopped shoveling food before realizing her words weren’t directed at him.

”Similar to what I’m doing now.” Ryen waited for him to continue but it became obvious he wouldn’t.

”So nothing much.” The vagueness of his reply along with his name and the subject of murder reminded her of an ancient game involving a candle stick and a billiard room.

Quincy chuckled at her retort. ”Et tu, mechanic, et tu. Although I’ll tell you what, if everyone does a good job, we won’t have much to worry about, will we?”

She couldn’t disagree with that. ”And you, Gunther?” Ryen asked right as the solider finished his last bite.

”Just keeping busy, miss.”

”Keeping busy and staying full.” This came from Quincy.

”Exactly.” Gunter gave them a thumbs up before depositing his dish into the repository.

Ryen turned her attention to their captain. ”So…” This ship was brand new and so was the crew and Ryen couldn’t help but have the feeling that good captain Caesar wasn’t everything he appeared to be. He fought like a solider, yelled like a tyrant, was strong enough to easily dislocate her arm, and was rich enough to purchase (or at least she was assuming he’d purchase) a brand new spaceship- the down payment alone for which was probably more than she could make in a few years. Who was this man? She was almost afraid to ask. ”So… I take it everything from before went well?” Again she tacked on the word “captain” a few seconds to late. ”May I ask where we’re headed… sir?”

[icicle]

Done

[Irell Starling]

Title of the Recording: Gone

What do I run from?
Where am I going?
There’s no point in guessing and no way of knowing.

There goes my life,
There goes my home,
And everything thing I thought I owned.

The city slithers through my grip,
No bigger than a fingertip…

And then it’s gone.

Ryen was practically on Lazlo’s heals as he headed out of the mess hall after the captain had announced his intentions to lift off. She hadn’t been the only one who seemed to be interested in their next destination, but much like before everyone took the news different. For herself, Ryen was happy that their first stop would be a Federation Stronghold. Even though Syrae was outside the Federation’s sphere of control, they had civil relationships and seeing Federation soldiers in the planet’s markets was common place. Perhaps if the people who were chasing her happened to catch up, the Federation would step in and grant her an asylum. There was another reason Ryen was happy that would be FS 700 would be their first stop. If Lazlo was willing to enter the operations base, then he had to be a least some-what legitimate. Any common thief or wanted criminal would know to stay well away.

”He can’t be that bad,” Ryen thought to herself as she slipped into her quarters, ”Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe he was just as desperate to leave the planet as I was.” A picture of Lazlo firing into the crowd popped into her head again. Could she have done that if there was no other way to escape? She didn’t know and she was glad she didn’t have to. ”I guess in the end he really didn’t have to drag me along. He could have left me. The ship’s new enough that it really shouldn’t need a mechanic for a while.” Her thoughts echoed Quincy’s words earlier. ” Maybe I should thank him…”

”Launching in 5…”

Ryen reached out and grabbed her bed straps, quickly clicking them into place. They were designed to help protect the occupant in an event of a crash landing (assuming the landing wasn’t so intense it destroyed the entire ship, sleeping compartments and all). There were most likely a few places around the ship that had similar restraints, the cockpit being one of them, but Ryen wasn’t sure where else and their mini lift-off earlier out of the shipyard had taught her better than to stand around when their captain told them otherwise.

Less than a second after Lazlo’s voice stated “1”, Ryen’s body was being pressed firmly into her bed’s ergonomic padding. Her chest hurt as her lungs struggled against the G force the rapid lift off had created. Her stomach meanwhile did flip flops as her body’s equilibrium struggled to adjust itself.

Outside the ship the bubble shell of her city shimmered under the late afternoon light, a crystalline bubble in a merciless snow globe. Soon enough the view revealed that the ship had just breached the planet’s stratosphere. Nimbus clouds, heavy with snow that fell almost perpetually to the planet’s surface, spread out below like bunches of cotton down below. In almost no time their distinct shapes blended together forming a white blanket. The sky in the distance was still blue, but soon enough it would darken and take on the empty blackness of space.

Almost as quickly as it started, the intense force on her body ebbed and then disappeared entirely as the ship’s artificial gravity fully adjusted. Unstrapping herself, Ryen rolled over and dry heaved at the metallic floor thankful that she’d only had cracker and lox. Anything heavier might just have resurfaced.

Part of her wanted to hide away in her room and pour over her father’s notebook but she decided against it. She’d have time enough later in the evening and she desperately wanted to wash the out the taste that had manifested itself in the back of her throat.

Unsurprisingly, almost everyone else had made it back to the mess hall before her. Cracker pieces littered the floor here and there and the near empty container of lox was upside down in the corner but other than that the room was no worse for wear. Like most objects on the ship, the table and chairs were firmly bolted down to the floor.

Lazlo and Gunther were sitting back at the table, asking Eleanor a series of questions causing the woman to grow redder and redder. Almost automatically Ryen entered the code for water into the replicator. ”What’s going on?” she said, accusation dripping from her words, all thoughts of thanking Lazlo for dragging her onto the ship instantly gone.

”It’s not a big thing.” Ellie tittered, her face and body language clearly illustrated that it wasn’t.

”Did they do something to you?” Ryen snapped her fist uncontrollably balling into a fist. The lift off couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes. What could these two men have done to the poor technician in that short amount of time?

”Hey now,” Gunther said, his hands going up in the air, ”Don’t look at me like that. She was like this when I came in here.” Just as before, Eleanor insisted on waiting for the doctor to arrive. After retrieving the drink from the replicator, Ryen offered it to the technician but the other woman turned it down.

”The lift-off was a bit intense.” Ryen said, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence and the group waited for the doctor to arrive. ”Good one, Ryen,” she chided herself, ”And here I thought we decided to try to be nicer to the captain.” ”I mean I’m sure it would have been normal if the ship’s gravity was up and running to its full capacity.”

[icicle]

Done

[Irell Starling]

“I don’t like him.” Ryen stated at her glass of water. Her eyes had barley left it since her confrontation with Lazlo. Just a few moments ago the other three has rushed out of the room, leaving her and Gunther alone to man the table.

”He’s a bit of an odd one, I’ll give you that,”the solider replied after giving himself a few moments to think, ”but I’m sure Quincy means well.”

Ryen scoffed, the short loud sound echoing in the nearly pristine room. ”I wasn’t talking about the doctor.” She shook her head in irritation. She hadn’t been on this ship for more than two hours and she was already having what could certifiably be called ‘a crisis of conscience’. If the captain had in fact mistreated Ellie, would she have done something? Or would she be doing exactly what she was doing now?

In her mind she could see Lazlo’s blue eyes boring into her. ”What are you trying to say?” There were a hundred things she had wanted to say and they had all stemmed from the same place. ”I’m afraid of you and I don’t trust you.” Not with Ellie. Not with herself. But of course she hadn’t said anything. She’d just quietly studied the water forming on the outside of her glass and said the names Federation controlled planets alphabetically in her head. It was a trick she’d learned as a child to calm her over active and occasionally over emotional mind. It was easy, mindless, and only kept her attention only until she got to the fifth and Quincy had come strolling through the doors.

”He’s nice to Ms. Ellie,” Gunther said interrupting the tense silence, ”Did you see how he carried her?” Ryen had and could almost classify Lazlo’s actions as gallant. If it had been Gunther who had done the carrying instead, Ryen would have filed the scene under heroic with just a dash of romance.

”It was nice of him.” Her emphasis on the third word made it clear she thought nothing of the sort.

The solider cracked a smile. ”Watch yourself, kid, you almost sound jealous.” His tone had been joking but the mechanic was having none of it.

“Jealousy would imply that I wanted to be liked.” The words fell from Ryen’s mouth almost automatically. They were from the screenplay “Ferdinando of Aceli” that one her second year linguist instructor had made the class read from. The plot line had been a little dull but the female lead had been amazing.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the next moment Lazlo walked back through the door. Gunther immediately sprung to his feet to meet him and Ryen’s studied the fingerprint smudge on her glass. Within moments the captain was assuring them of Ellie’s recovery at sitting back at the table.

Ryen visibly stiffened when he addressed her. ”So… I would advise that you avoid all possible injury or you may find yourself at his disposal.”

The surface of Syrae was hardly a comparison to the chill that had crept in the room. Ryen picked up the glass and took a sip, allowing herself time to organize her words. A slight crease knit her brow as adrenaline funneled into her veins. Gunther was the first respond but hers was quickly on its heels.

”I find Quicy to be both trustworthy and competent-” Still she continued to stare at her glass. ”he already treated the arm you dislocated-” She had planned to stop there but torrent of anger and frustration continued to push her along. Fueled by the fears and frustration of the day it grew and grew. ”and it seems like on this ship, he has his work cut out for him… captain.” Only on the last word did she have enough will to look at him. Ice blue eyes narrowed with a mixture of anger and blame. She didn’t know what she found in his and she didn’t waste time finding out. Instead, she stood up and walked out the mess hall.

It wasn’t until her compartment door slid snugly closed behind her that Ryen allowed herself to cry. Flinging herself onto her bed she buried her face into a firm pillow that smelled of stale starch. Wet pink and green streaks from her Hopper’s Day make-up formed on its white surface, water colors of grief. Gingerly she brought it to her chest and curled into a ball. Outside her window the blackness of space went on and on.

As she cried her mind flitted around like a butterfly trapped under a glass jar. At first all she could think about was her father’s death and all the things should have said to him and then things she wished they’d done. Next came all the questions she’d wanted to ask and always had been too afraid of. Where had he come from? Why had he escaped to Syrae? Why had he installed a chip in her head? Had she always just been some experiment to him? Who was after him? Why? Where should she go? What should she do? Who should she trust? And would those people give up or would she have to keep running forever?

No matter how hard she tried, she knew she didn’t have any of the answers squirreled away in her brain. She’d started off the day so sure of herself and ever since she’ heard the news she felt like every single decision had been wrong. She should have just talked to the police. She should have looked for a different ship at the docks. She never should have joined Lazlo’s crew. She never should have said those things to him. ”I can get through this,” Ryen tried to console herself, ”Somehow.”

[icicle]

Done

[Irell Starling]

Title of the Recording: Time in Space

Time in a spaceship was an interesting topic. Planet-side time is usually determined by the location of nearby stars and the rotation of the planet on its axis. But when traveling through space and those stars ceased to rise and fall across the horizon, what dictates ‘morning’ or ‘mid-night’? Some ships use PT Port Time, syncing their clocks to the last place they docked even when their journey takes them light years away. Others will use FST (Federation Standard Time), which is useful when traveling from planet to planet but viewed arbitrary once planet-side again. Either way, time is, as they say, relative.

Ryen’s eyes flickered open. Dim, blue lights lit up the surroundings. It took her a few seconds to realize where she was. Sitting up stiffly in bed caused the lights to slowly brighten, giving her eyes time to adjust. Soon enough her cabin looked just like she’d left it, bright white, cold, and sterile. The only contents marker it her own was the pack thrown in the corner.

A pang in her stomach informed why she was awake. When was the last time she’d eaten something? A picture of the lox and crackers flashed before her eyes but she struggles to remember what she’d had before that. Already she was beginning to feel a little light headed, a sure sign that her blood sugar was low. A high metabolism was one of the few side-effects of her ‘condition’.

”Maria” Ryen said, her voice barely raised above a whisper, ”What time is it?”

”Two o’seven PT. Fifty nine point eight FST.” The AI replied over the cabin’s intercom.

Ryen couldn’t remember dimming the room’s lights or even going to sleep. Either way, hours had passed since she’d last been in the mess hall. ”Is anyone else up and about?”

”No one has been in the common areas in the last hour.”

Ryen nodded and pushed out of her bed. Pressing the inside panel, her room door slowly opened revealing a hallway dimly lit with blue lights from the floor panels. Shuffling down the hallway, she entered the mess hall and made herself a grilled cheese sandwich and strawberry milkshake using the replicator. The sandwich didn’t taste quiet like the ones her mother used to make but it was good enough. Ryen scarfed the meal down partially because of how hungry she was and partially because she didn’t want to run into anyone, especially after she caught her reflection in the replicator’s glass.

Quickly returning to her room she washed up and since she was still wide awake, began to unpack her bag. It didn’t take more than thirty minutes to put everything away. She was however, a bit annoyed to find that in her haste she’d only packed seven stockings and the top half of a swimsuit. Meanwhile, her teal mascara and Havtaniana hair pins were nowhere to be seen. They were easy enough to replace assuming their next shop sold such items and assuming she could get to her credits. Ryen bit on her lower lip. Money shouldn’t be a problem assuming she could get to her accounts and assuming Lazlo was paying her. [i]”He is paying me… isn’t he?”[/b] Well, she could worry about it later.

The last item she pulled out of the bottom of her bag was her father’s worn leather journal. The one she promised she would destroy if anything happened to him. A deep seeded guilt filled her stomach but Ryen tried to push it away by telling herself that she could simply destroy the journal away at a later date.

The paper inside was soft and leather. Neat characters were printed horizontal and vertical across the page. The symbols weren’t from Common Tongue or the other two languages her father had taught her. Looking up the original language would be easy enough especially with her personal computer with its integral intergalactic transmitter. It was an expensive and Farley hard to come by piece of equipment on Syrae. Her father had given it to her, as a gift, the first time she’d ventured into space. Unfortunately it was lying on the far right hand side of her work space back at the lab. Now she would simply have to wait until she was planet-side and try to find a public computer system or beg that tablet off Ellie. Ryen studied the symbols on the page a little more before delving deeper into the journal, hoping to find some clue. Inch by inch she scrolled over the cramped handwriting looking for something out of place. Around page twenty she finally hit on it. The symbols were still the same in the patterns but the way they were grouped in to form words weren’t. After flipping through a few more pages, it finally hit her. The journal wasn’t in a foreign language at all but was written in code, a code her father periodically changed.

---

This time when Ryen woke up, she was lying on the floor, her father’s journal crumpled underneath her. Her room was no longer pristine. Strange, light blue symbols were scrawled across every inch of useable stainless steel wall and crowded onto the floor. Underneath, a few were common words “the” “a” “is” or “and” as well as a few complex ones like “planet”, “research”, “brain”. Pushing herself up off the floor, Ryen felt the tell-tale sign of hunger. It didn’t take her long to wash up and change. She debated briefly about erasing the ‘artwork’ she’d penned over the room but decided against it. Instead she made sure the lock the adjourning washroom from her side and slip out into the hallway. As she did, she almost slammed into Quincy who was making his way presumably to the mess hall.

”Sorry,” Ryen said as he moved out of the way, just in time.

”Is this a form of greeting in, Syrae?” the doctor joked, ”Remind me to avoid you in the morning.”

Ryen was about to ask him just how long he had spent on the planet when he lifted her chin and rotated her head. ”You’re looking pale.” he said as he used one and to further open her right eye. ”Cardiovascular dystrophy? Ionic palo-pigmentation?” Ryen’s brain pulled up her conversation with Lazlo yesterday about the doctor’s excitement when it came to the newly equip medical bay.

”Neither,” she practically squeaked, ”I didn’t sleep well last night and I’m feeling a bit… peckish.”

Quincy’s left eyebrow shot up suspiciously but he gently let go of her chin. ”Did something happen yesterday? I never saw you after I came out of surgery.”

”There was a few things I had to check on.” Ryen was certain he didn’t believe her explanation. They started walking toward the mess hall again. He didn’t say anything. Hopefully Quincy would drop the subject, filing it under some sort of post-traumatic stress after her father’s death.

The glass door of the mess hall slid open. Ryen briefly surveyed the room. He was there. He would be. He was the captain after all. ”Good morning,” she said, echoing the doctor’s greeting. Ryen wanted to ask Ellie how she was doing after her surgery but the other woman appeared to be fine and Ryen didn’t want to embarrass her by directing attention her way. Quincy, on the other hand, had no qualms and began battering the technician with questions.

While waiting for Lazlo to finish up at the replicator, she went over and began to scan the breakfast portion of the menu, avoiding any contact with the captain’s eyes.