Popslash. Space Cowboys I. Uneasy alliances
Title: Uneasy alliances.
Fandom: Popslash.
Characters: Chris Kirkpatrick / Kevin Richardson
Prompt: 022. Enemies
Word Count: 9,752
Rating: PG
Summary: Starship Captain Richardson finds himself and his crew in a dire predicament.
Author's Notes: I blame, equally, the Larger than Life video and Space Cowboy for this fic. You have been warned. Also, this will be long. I have no idea of how long, since the smallish ‘this is a ficlet’ idea has turned into an epic so… long WIP warning. On other notes. Many thanks to milosflaca as always, for her insight and her first draft betaing that should be called an art because of all she writes in the printouts. Seriously, girl, you’re the best. To bellamyrose who did the first grammar polishing of the story, and to otherdeb who did the second and didn’t let me forget where the periods and the commas were supposed to go. Also, many thanks to musiclover03 who helped me put some ideas in order in our nightly chats.
* * *
Captain Kevin Richardson opened his eyes, groaning. At first, he didn’t know where he was, so he got to his feet, trying to assess of his situation. His head was throbbing, and he could feel a sore spot on the back of his skull where he had hit the floor.
As he looked around, the memories started flooding through his mind. He was Starfleet Alliance Captain Kevin Richardson of the ESS Millennium, cargo starcruiser serial number 01999-BSB-3. He was on a permanent post to the Andromeda Chain route 345-b, carrying supplies for the troops stationed at the edge of the Chain. His mission was important, since those troops were defending Allied space from the aliens designated by the Earth Government as the “Space Cowboys”, who had been at war against mankind for more than seventy years.
The Millennium had been attacked by rebel pirates - humans who didn’t support the war and raided and destroyed military ships for their own gain - the second most dangerous enemies that Kevin could meet. He had defended his ship with the help of the ship’s Nano Intelligent Cargo Keeper’s battledrones but in the end, they had been severely outnumbered.
Kevin closed his eyes, sighing. He hadn’t died in the attack, which was a good thing, but he didn’t know how he had managed to survive. His last clear memory was seeing the pirates get attacked by another crew. A group that wasn’t displaying the Alliance Banner and whose battleships didn’t look like anything made by human hands.
“A.J., I need a report of the damages, now,” he said looking around the darkened bridge, hoping that the ship mainframe wasn’t damaged. It would take a lot to affect the A.I., but since the last time Kevin had reached a spaceport, the machine had developed some serious glitches and if one of them decided to flare up, Kevin knew he would be screwed.
“I have good news and bad news, captain.” The holographic form of the ship’s A.I. materialized next to the command console. Kevin looked at it and sighed, resigned. It was obviously a bad day for the A.I, who had foregone its usual military look, for the more informal broken one. Instead of the blue bodysuit that the A.I. normally simulated, now it was wearing a half cut black shirt whose sleeves looked like as if they were made with chainmail. The A.I.’s human form was also sporting body art, a strange circular symbol that looked like a six and a nine merged together around his bellybutton, and Kevin was sure there would be more under the chainmail sleeve if the A.I. decided to go with its arms naked. The A.I. had topped his look this time by creating blonde and red highlights in its - usually - black hair. A pair of dark glasses completed the ensemble. When the AI looked like that, when it spoke to Kevin with sarcasm and jokes, Kevin knew he was going to have a hard day ahead. Nothing he did seemed to be able to fix the subprogram that had created this annoying side personality of the Millennium’s mainframe and Astrophysical Engine. “We were absorbed by the wormhole you tried to avoid unsuccessfully. The ship sustained no physical damage when we passed through it, but it seems to have eaten our reserve energy. We’re working with the third generator on emergency rations.”
“Is that the report of the Bio Redundant Operating Cargo Keeper or your own assessment?” Kevin asked, sitting down on his control command. Sure enough, all the lights except the ones for life support were turned off.
“B.R.O.C.K. is doing a maintenance sweep as we speak, Captain, but he was the one who reported the energy loss.”
“How long before the solar cells are recharged?” Kevin sat on the command chair, rubbing his head. He could feel a bruise forming.
“At least 24 hours, captain.”
“Continue the report,” Kevin said. There was nothing much to do without energy.
“N.I.C.K. informed me he lost four drones during the battle, sir.”
“Is one of the lost drones the defective one?” Kevin asked, looking at the open space again. Without the light from his console, it looked darker than ever. Still, he hoped for an affirmative answer. A defective drone only helped to spend energy.
“The defective drone, as you call him captain, is safe.” There was no mistaking A.J’s tone. The A.I. was not happy with Kevin. But Kevin was used to that too. Between A.J.’s glitches, the defective drone accidentally created by the B.R.O.C.K. and the N.I.C.K. and the way in which he kept getting attacked in the merchant route, it was a wonder the Earth Space Alliance had let him keep command of the ESS Millennium for so long.
“Finish your report, A.J.” Kevin sighed. Now he remembered what had happened. The new arrivals to the battle had attacked the pirates, saving Kevin and the Millennium. The pirates escaped without many losses, and as Kevin started to maneuver the Millennium back to its normal course, a worm hole had started to open. Kevin remembered trying to get the Millennium away from it on time, seeing his impromptu saviors do the same in their strange, single pilot ships, a sharp pain on the back of his head, and waking up on the floor of the bridge. As his headache was receding he knew that there was something about that other crew that he was forgetting.
The situation was definitively one of the worst possible things to report in his log.
“There are two million star maps downloaded in my memory,” AJ said, and to make his point he lowered his dark glasses. If the A.I. had been human, it would’ve looked condescending. As it wasn’t, to Kevin it looked ridiculous. “None of the systems that surround us match those maps. I can’t triangulate our position.”
“We are lost,” Kevin clarified, closing his eyes. That was the worst nightmare possible for a commander in the Space Corps. Being lost in space meant losses for the Alliance. Unacceptable losses when the Alliance was at war.
“And we’re not alone,” AJ finished. Kevin thought that he could hear a note of smugness in the A.I.’s voice, just as he felt his own stomach drop. Now Kevin remembered that little detail that had escaped his notice. His saviors, the ones who had also been swallowed by the worm hole, had been riding the space cowboys’ preferred type of battleship. A strange vessel that looked like a mix between an earth bull and a motorcycle, and by all appearances, permitted its driver to travel through space with minimal protection. “The crew that came to our rescue was also swallowed by the wormhole, and one of their number was hurt. They are waiting for us at the locking port. I have no information of their mother ship’s whereabouts.”
“Wait. Repeat that to me, slowly. You are telling me that you allowed enemies into the ship without my permission?” Kevin rose from his seat, glaring at the A.I. He could deal with the A.I. developing a personality. After so many years together, Kevin could even say it was a welcome change. He could deal with the anomalies of the maintenance units. He could even deal with the Corps ordering him to take an experimental unit as the Medical officer for the Millennium, like the S.W.E.E.T. But if the A.I. was starting to make decisions *over* the authority of the Captain, Kevin was getting it formatted as soon as they were back in known space. He would even write it down physically so the A.I. couldn’t erase the order in case something happened to Kevin. Especially since, as far as Kevin knew, the riders were the enemy with whom the Alliance had been at war for so long.
“Space Corps Regulations indicate that in case of a shipwreck, the closest available ship must perform rescue missions. Their ship was not swallowed by the worm hole, only their individual spacecrafts. In those conditions, they would not survive. I scanned their bodies, and I can assure you they are human. Which means that I acted in the way that you would’ve acted, following Space Regulation NSA-2034-456, Captain.”
Kevin groaned. It was the second time A.J. decided to pick up a stray in five years, only that this time, the stray was sentient. He only hoped that the other humans had a better idea of where the hell they were.
* * *
Whatever his ship’s mainframe said, Kevin couldn’t believe that the sentients surrounded by the ship’s battle drones at the Millennium docking port were human, especially not now that he was seeing them. They looked humanoid, true, but it was hard to say when they were wearing full body armor that covered every inch of their skin and hair. Kevin couldn’t even determine if it was possible for them to see through their helmets, as they were pitch black.
Two of them had their weapons drawn, pointing to the nearest battle drone they could find. Kevin tried to suppress the tired sigh that the sight of the battle drones always caused him. Officially, battle drones had to look exactly like the mother unit. The Millennium battle drones, however, tended to be very different. It had been at least five years since N.I.C.K. had started malfunctioning and his drones were of every race and gender one could picture. It almost looked like a human crew.
Between the two sentients who were obviously ready to defend their mates if the battle drones became hostile, there was a third, tall and lean sentient, carrying a fourth on his arms. The hurt one, Kevin assumed. The fifth one was, at first sight, the shortest of the group, and even when it didn’t had a weapon on his hands, it looked ready to attack if there was any danger to their group.
“Welcome to the ESS Millennium,” Kevin said, following protocol. If his ship said the strangers were human, he was going to treat them as such. “You can lower your weapons, I mean no harm. I am Captain Kevin Richardson, of the Allied Starfleet.”
The biggest of the group, one of the ones who had its weapon drawn, muttered something unintelligible to the shortest one, who seemed to be the leader. The short one nodded, and raised its hand to touch two points on its shoulder blades.
To Kevin’s surprise, the being’s helmet folded into itself as if it was a piece of cloth, turning into a sort of turtleneck around its neck. It was then when Kevin realized that AJ had more glitches than he had thought because it was impossible that the sentient before him was human.
The creature before him had long purpleish hair, fashioned in long dreadlocks fixed in a really high ponytail that made the dreadlocks frame its delicate facial features. Most of the dreadlocks did, at least, the ones that weren’t moving, dancing as if they weren’t held by the artificial gravity of the dock. It had a line of small dots over its eyelids, and both its eyes were lined with black making its soft brownish eyes look even deeper than they were. Kevin felt as if those eyes could look deep into the bottom of his own being. The being’s left eye had five black long markings, fashioned like an ancient picture of a sun’s rays. On its right cheek, it had another marking that started were its eyebrow ended and followed its cheekbone under his lower eyelid, highlighting his features. It had pointed ears, which were only visible when the dreadlocks covering them moved briefly. Its skin was slightly tanned, so the black marks looked a little purple under the dock’s lights.
The being looked a little like the medical unit on board, Kevin noticed immediately. Maybe the being wasn’t the leader, as Kevin had assumed, but an ambassador unit. Maybe A.J. had been wrong, and only one of those sentients was human, and the others were his mechanical help units.
“I want to propose a truce,” the being said, not bothering to introduce itself. Savage, Kevin decided, if it couldn’t follow proper protocol. Its hair seemed to stand a little as it spoke, and its voice was high pitched, like the voice of some of N.I.C.K.’s female battle drones.
“A truce?” Kevin frowned. The only reason the being would ask for a truce was if they were really space cowboys as its battle ships suggested. But then, A.J. wouldn’t have let them land. The A.I. was programmed to shoot on sight against space cowboys.
“Do you know where we are?” The being shot back. Kevin shook his head. It was useless to lie, and at the moment, he had the numerical advantage if the savage decided to attack. “Neither do we. And while I would gladly destroy any Alliance ship that crossed my path, I realize we both need help. One of my brothers was hurt while saving you, if you have any honor, you will repay us by allowing us the use of your medical supplies.”
Kevin narrowed his eyes. Whatever the A.I. said, the thing before him was no human. Humans did not attack the Alliance, even in thought. “I can pay my debts,” he said, after a minute. “But what guarantee do I have that when your brother is healed, you will not try to attack me?”
“That’s where the truce comes in,” the savage smiled, and Kevin could see its white teeth, its pointed fangs. “We have the means to return to known space, without star maps, but we wouldn’t survive the trip in our bulls alone. I propose that we work together, in your ship, until we are back into the Andromeda Chain. Then, we will let each other go, until next time our path cross in battle. What do you say, Captain Kevin Richardson of the Allied Starfleet?”
“I do not make deals with strangers whose names I do not know,” Kevin answered, although he knew that what the savage was saying was fair. He had read reports about the space cowboys, and he knew that they could navigate with a different system than the one used by the Starfleet. With A.J. admitting he was lost, and the glitches in the mainframe, a truce was his best bet to go back to his route.
“Fair enough,” the savage said, his smile growing. His dreadlocks lowered, looking like normal hair for a moment. Only then did Kevin admit that the constant movement had been making him nervous. “They call me Crazy Kirpk, from the Yipyay clan, and these are my men, my brothers.”
* * *
The walk to the infirmary was tense. Kevin, against all rational thought, decided to order the battle drones to stay at the docking port. While he was aware that the four able-bodied savages could try to subdue him, he was adamant in proving to ‘Crazy’ that he had honor. After Crazy had introduced itself, the non-injured savages followed its example and took off their helmets. The tall, broad one had long, silky brown hair with bright red highlights, just like the Millennium’s Medical Unit, and answered to the name ‘Crunk’. The tall slender one who had been carrying its injured mate had bright pink hair which flowed every which way in impossible patterns as if it was underwater, which in Kevin’s opinion cemented the fact that they couldn’t be human, and apparently was called ‘Spazz’. The one who had been defending the group with Crunk was blond, although his hair shone blue under certain lights, tied into a more discrete ponytail, and called himself ‘Scoop’. All of them looked male, even when Kevin still couldn’t discern if Crazy was a male or a female of the species.
They refused to take off their mate’s helmet.
“The medical unit will need to take his armor off,” Kevin commented, as they neared the Infirmary. “If you want to help him.”
“No machine will touch him,” Crazy said, gritting his teeth. “You tell us where your supplies are, we’ll take care of the rest.”
Kevin just nodded, even when he knew that the medic unit wouldn’t allow anyone touch its equipment. S.W.E.E.T. was, by far, the unit with the most bugs in Kevin’s ship. The thing acted almost like a human being. But even if A.J. said that the beings they had picked up were human, and they looked a bit like the medical unit, that didn’t made the medical unit human. The Alliance wouldn’t allow a ship with two men on board. All ships were only manned by one person, since that kept the losses to a minimum.
“You might need help to understand our technology,” Kevin tried again. He was not going to leave five aliens alone with an expensive experimental machine, truce or no truce. “Our Medical…”
“If you want to stay and watch, you can,” Crazy interrupted him, the back dreadlocks on its head rising, looking like angry snakes. “But no machine will touch Spark.”
They arrived at to the infirmary, and Kevin took a second before actually punching the access code. He didn’t know how the savages would react to S.W.E.E.T. It was obvious they didn’t like mechanicals, and Kevin hoped they wouldn’t consider the fact that the unit resembled them as an insult to their race.
“It’s been twenty minutes since AJ informed me that we went through a worm hole, captain,” the medical unit started saying as soon as Kevin opened the door. “I hope that you have not required my services and waited until the last possible minute.”
“I will not be your patient, S.W.E.E.T.,” Kevin said, as the medical robot turned around. It surely didn’t look artificial, now that Kevin had some other biological beings to compare it to. Shorter than Kevin, but a bit taller than Crazy, S.W.E.E.T. had been designed to look as a tanned young man, dressed in a yellow Alliance uniform. His hair was long, part of the design for the cooler units that had been in vogue ever since the first Nano Intelligent Unit had been created, but unlike N.I.C.K.’s or B.R.O.C.K.’s blond cooling devices, S.W.E.E.T.’s was dark brownish, and its tips were bright red. The Medical unit had its hair tightly tied in a long ponytail that swished as he walked. It also had pointed ears. The only detail its designers hadn’t copied from Crazy’s race were the facial markings the savages sported.
To Kevin’s surprise, Crazy looked at S.W.E.E.T., cocked his head frowning, and then indicated to his crewmates to put Spark on the infirmary’s only bed. Crunk looked at S.W.E.E.T. as if he wanted to say something, and his hair seemed to flow towards the medical unit for a moment, before stilling and falling back to Crunk’s chest.
All that hair movement was making Kevin’s nervous.
Spazz placed Spark on the bed, with the same care Kevin imagined a mother would have for her child - he didn’t remember his own so he only had the reassurance of A.J. that it was an acceptable reference - and then, even more surprisingly given their previous resistance, pushed the buttons on Spark’s armor to take off his helmet. While he did that, the others touched another hidden button in their armor, revealing their arms, and yet a third button, that folded their full gloves into wrist bracelets that seemed made of cloth. Their arms were covered with multicolored body art, making them all look even more alien.
Spark looked younger than any of the others, but that was not what called Kevin’s attention. He knew that in a war, all able bodied soldiers were needed. What surprised Kevin was that, while all the others had luscious, long hair, Spark was completely bald. There were metallic lines embedded on his skull, mimicking cornrows, but besides that and his blond eyebrows, there was not a single hair on its head. S.W.E.E.T. seemed startled at this, as he turned to see Spazz, who sharply shook his head. There were questions to be asked, Kevin knew, but he also suspected that those questions were not going to be asked with him in front of them. Just as well, the strange interaction between his medical unit and the savages was puzzling for him too, and the questions he planned to ask S.W.E.E.T couldn’t be made with an audience either.
Spazz was gently stroking Spark’s cheek, while Scoop held his right hand and Crazy his left. Crunk stayed at their side, one hand grabbing Spazz’s right hand, the other on Spark’s right shoulder. It unnerved Kevin, making his stomach lurch in a way it hadn’t for years. He had never let any of the drones on board touch him without gloves. To see that display of naked flesh touching flesh made him feel uneasy. It was an alien contact, an alien action he couldn’t understand.
“I’m sorry, sir,” S.W.E.E.T. whispered to Crazy. Kevin’s frown deepened. While the medical unit was polite, he had never spoken to Kevin with the reverence it was giving the alien now. “But I need space to treat your man. I can’t do it with you surrounding him.”
Crazy looked at the S.W.E.E.T unit, its lips drawn in a tight line. But even when Kevin feared they would refuse to move, Crazy nodded, its braids raised slightly. With that movement, the others left their comrade’s side, but kept hugging Spazz in what Kevin supposed was a supportive manner.
It reminded him a little of how N.I.C.K. and B.R.O.C.K. acted sometimes around their drones when they lost one of them in a battle. Kevin had assumed it was a drone protocol, a way of exchanging information. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“Are all of you brothers?” He asked. If they were related, Kevin could at least understand a little their actions around the possibility of one of them dying. Since he had never had anyone to mourn, or anyone to mourn with, Kevin didn’t know if that was a natural reaction during the situation, but he had read holo-files about funerals. It was a little different to see such reactions happening in front of him.
“Spazz is Spark’s brother by blood,” Crazy whispered, rubbing soothing circles on Spazz’s back. “Scoop’s by marriage, and Crunk’s and mine by choice.”
“He has a broken rib on his left side,” S.W.E.E.T. said before Kevin could answer. “But the scans don’t show any further damage. He doesn’t have any concussion, so I can fairly say that he passed out from the pain and shock when we were absorbed by the worm hole. I can microtape his rib, but I will not use the nano-tape unless you give me your permission, sir.”
“Do what you have to do,” Kevin said, but when the unit didn’t move he realized that S.W.E.E.T. wasn’t addressing him.
“Is that the only alternative?” Crazy asked, leaving its crewmates’ side to return to its original place next to the bed.
“I can set the ribs manually, then bandage him so they’ll stay in place while they heal on their own. But if I do that, he’ll be in pain until that happens.”
Crazy caressed Spark’s arms. Kevin didn’t understand the hesitation. Microtaping a broken rib only took a few minutes, and it would insure that the young man would be ready for work in less than 24 hours. The other solution sounded barbaric and time wasting.
“Do that,” Crazy finally said to Kevin’s surprise. “When he wakes up, he will decide if he prefers the machine’s solution.”
* * *
When S.W.E.E.T. finished setting and externally taping Spark’s ribs, Spazz returned to his side next to the bed. He was caressing Spark’s face and the metallic cornrows, and for the first time since he got in the ship his hair looked halfway normal, all pointing towards Spark, swishing slowly as if moved by an invisible wind.
Scoop had taken a seat on the floor, and his ponytail was wrapped around Spark’s wrist. How he had managed to do that without moving Spark, Kevin didn’t know. He didn’t seem to be able to take his eyes away from the savages’ weird hair. Crunk was still standing next to Spark, but *his* hair was still. Its points, however, kept raising a little, moving slightly in S.W.E.E.T.’s direction every time the Medical Unit moved, always pointing to it, only to still completely when he noticed Kevin watching.
There was something really strange going on there.
“We need to make clear the terms of our truce,” Kevin said to Crazy, trying to ignore the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw the savages sitting around Spark. “As well as find a place for you to stay during night cycles. If you come with me, I’m sure the others can stay with Spark until he wakes up.”
“Anything we discuss can be discussed in front of my brothers,” Crazy answered, defiantly. The creature was the only one not touching Spark, instead, his eyes were was drilling holes into Kevin’s face. Kevin couldn’t help but feel that he was being studied, just as he had studied them when they had come on board. “If you wish to call your crew, we could talk it over together. Even when I doubt they will all fit here.”
“There is no crew,” Kevin said. It was not a secret of the Alliance, and perhaps if the savages knew that the Alliance’s army consisted mostly of battle drones who could be mass replaced, they would think twice before attacking a ship again. “Just me.”
“What about the soldiers who ‘greeted’ us upon boarding? Or the man who assured us we wouldn’t be harmed before you came in? We heard his voice. What about him?” Crunk said, pointing at S.W.E.E.T. Kevin didn’t understood why the bigger man had talked without permission from his leader, but he didn’t pretend to understand the customs of the savages. He hesitated before answering, because there was protocol to be considered.
He finally decided to speak, because even if he was sharing with aliens details of his army, they would share with him a new way of navigation. In the end, Kevin supposed that was far more valuable.
“Cargo ships are manned by one human, and four cybernetic units: The Astrophysical Jaunt Memory Function, the Nano Intelligent Cargo Keeper’s unit, the Bio Redundant Operating Cargo Keeper’s unit, and the medical unit. Both the N.I.C.K. and the B.R.O.C.K. can create autodependant drones. The N.I.C.K. drones were the ones you saw at the dock. The one you pointed at is the S.W.E.E.T., the medical unit on board. I know it looks human, but I can assure you it is an automaton with an advanced A.I. in its software.”
Crazy narrowed its eyes, fixing its clear gaze on S.W.E.E.T. “You know all our crew, it’s fair that we get to know yours before working in the terms of our treaty. If the machines you call crew can think for themselves, bring them here. It is fair, five of your crew, five of ours.”
Kevin glared at the alien for a moment. He hadn’t missed the way in which it never talked about the others as their underlings. They respected it, even S.W.E.E.T. seemed to revere Crazy. And while he knew that protocol indicated that the units’ main bodies were to be kept as away from the enemy as possible, Kevin figured that maybe B.R.O.C.K. could do an independent scan. He didn’t trust AJ’s refusal to admit that they could be aliens. Kevin knew that what he was seeing was not a group of human beings.
He activated the communicator built into his left glove to communicate with the rest of the ship. “AJ, materialize your image next to my body heat. Call B.R.O.C.K. and N.I.C.K. to the Infirmary, and tell them to keep the battle drones on stand by.”
“What can I do for you, captain?” AJ’s light body materialized next to him, and Kevin couldn’t stop a small smile seeing the aliens’ hair stand up a bit, surprised. It was obvious they had never seen a hologram. AJ was still in his bugged-out appearance, but for once, Kevin didn’t mind. The body art was similar to what the aliens themselves had, so they could interpret it as a show of respect.
“You’ve met our guests,” Kevin waved in the general direction of the group. Although Crazy’s eyes were fixed on them, the others seemed to be talking among each other in a language that Kevin didn’t understood. It was only then that he realized that the aliens had been speaking his own language all this time, and it hadn’t been his omni-translator the one doing the work.
A new mystery to be pondered, because Kevin didn’t think the space cowboys had ever tried to learn the human language. And the Omni-translator could translate the space cowboy’s language, so if it wasn’t picking up whatever the strange beings were speaking, maybe they weren’t space cowboys.
“Yes, I have, captain. Do you wish for me to act as an ambassador in good faith?” The A.I. asked, seriously. Kevin shook his head slightly. He envied the aliens a little. They could talk among themselves without him understanding them: he didn’t have that luxury. He wanted AJ to scan them again, and scan S.W.E.E.T while he was at it. The way in which the aliens kept looking at the medical unit was no longer annoying. It was suspicious.
“N.I.C.K. and B.R.O.C.K. reporting to the infirmary, captain.” The door opened to let the two units in. N.I.C.K. was constructed following the basic structure of a human male but could only be confused with a real human being when he was in his standby mode. As he was in battle mode when he came trough the door, he looked like a bright yellow humanoid robot with a human head. N.I.C.K. was one of the oldest battle models, and his human-like form was that of a young man in his twenties, because someone had thought that a blond, blue eyed kid wouldn’t be seen as a threat by the aliens until the robots pulled out their impressive weapon’s system. N.I.C.K. very rarely used his helmet, and only stayed in battle mode when he thought Kevin wanted to see him ready for action.
“N.I.C.K., activate your standby mode,” Kevin said, aware that the aliens could construct N.I.C.K.’s ready weapons as a threat, even if they had asked for its presence. N.I.C.K. nodded an affirmative, and Kevin again had the pleasure to see the aliens’ surprised faces when the more obvious mechanical parts of N.I.C.K. folded into themselves over and over again, until N.I.C.K. looked like just a human with a black uniform consisting of trousers, boots, and vest.
Behind N.I.C.K. was B.R.O.C.K., the maintenance unit, who had taken to using his standby form unless it was absolutely needed. It was also an old model, created when scientist had decided that their soldiers needed to see human faces in their solitary trips, so he had a kind, warm face, even if it was obvious it was artificial. Its fake hair was a very light shade of brown, and just like the S.W.E.E.T. unit, it was long enough to cool his body in case of overheating, meaning that it reached freely to his waist. In the past, it had been shorter, but after the ‘anomaly’ situation -a situation that Kevin refused to think about- the maintenance unit had been making it grow. It was yet another thing that Kevin found annoying, but today he realized it could work in his favor. Especially if the aliens thought B.R.O.C.K. was like S.W.E.E.T. But this time, the hair of the aliens stayed in place.
“The ship presents no damage, and the generators are extracting energy as we speak, captain. My calculations inform that we will be mobile in twenty four hours,” B.R.O.C.K. said, before turning to see the aliens, raising an eyebrow at the sight. The gesture was disturbingly human. “S.W.E.E.T: created drones? I was not aware it was among his functions, but I guess A.A.R.O.N. will like the company.”
Kevin turned to see AJ with detached curiosity, but the AI didn’t seem faced at the idea that B.R.O.C.K. thought the aliens were S.W.E.E.T. drones. He needed to have a private talk with his ship, as soon as possible. “They are our guests, B.R.O.C.K., Crazy Kirpk, Crunk, Scoop, Spazz and Spark, of the Yipyay clan. They were absorbed by the worm hole, like we were and we will work together to return to known space.”
B.R.O.C.K. and N.I.C.K. frowned in tandem, a sign that they were reviewing their personal datafiles in search of a similar situation. It was B.R.O.C.K. that finished first.
“We do not have lodging ready for all of them, Captain,” the maintenance unit said, his face serious. “But we can work on something. Do we have a timeframe for our return?”
Kevin turned to see the aliens, who had fallen silent when the two nano units came in. He expected Crazy to answer, but the being just turned to look at Scoop. The blond alien sighed, looking down at his hands.
“It depends on where we are,” Scoop said. His voice was low and grave. It reverberated on Kevin’s bones. “I can’t say for sure, but unless we got amazingly lucky, we’re talking about anywhere between a year and five.”
Kevin had to bite back a groan. It couldn’t be that long, he tried to tell himself. The aliens had no way of knowing how fast a ship like the ESS Millennium could travel. The aliens could have a rudimentary understanding of the way time was measured in human language, and ‘years’ was in fact ‘months’ for them. Anything that meant not spending five years in the company of other biological beings who liked to touch each other. Anything that didn’t involve letting enemies of the Alliance walk freely around the ship for five years, because he had agreed to a truce.
“Hopefully it will be less than that,” to Kevin’s surprise, it was the S.W.E.E.T. unit who spoke. Its eyes were lowered. It was pointedly not looking at the group of aliens. Crunk, on the other hand, had his own gaze fixed on S.W.E.E.T’s body.
B.R.O.C.K. for its part, seemed completely unfazed by all of it. “Five years makes it unacceptable to not have proper lodging for you. Captain, may I be excused? With A.A.R.O.N. and five drones help, I can have five cabins ready for use in ten hours.”
“We do not need five quarters,” Crazy said raising its hand. “We only need one.”
Kevin looked at the being again. Obviously they didn’t trust him, if they wanted to be together all the time. “I will keep my word, you won’t be harmed on board of the Millennium. You can sleep separately.”
“You sleep alone?” Spazz looked horrified at the idea, his pink hair raised high and puffed like a cat angered. “Why?”
“Spazz, relax.” Crazy subtly reminded him, reaching to caress the man’s arm. It seemed to work, as Kevin saw the pink fluffy hair slowly return to its original position. “Our clan’s custom is to share a room, all the time, so we only need one, Mr. Brock. Thank you for your offer, anyway.”
“We do not have any…” Kevin started to say, only to be interrupted by his maintenance drone, who apparently had felt bold at being referred to with respect.
“There’s one place, it only needs to be readied for use. I’ll have your lodgings ready within two hours, with the captain’s leave.”
Kevin nodded, knowing well that the unit was programmed to take that as a verbal order. He wasn’t sure which quarters B.R.O.C.K. was referring to, but then, there were parts of his ship he had never been to, or even forgotten. Most of his days passed between the bridge and his own small quarters.
“N.I.C.K, you can go with B.R.O.C.K. We need to preserve energy, so I don’t want any more drones made,” Kevin said to the security unit, who briskly nodded and turned around. “And N.I.C.K., that means I want that defective drone deactivated and disassembled soon.”
Kevin ignored the look that N.I.C.K. sent him. Whatever flaw they had developed in their programming, in the end they were only tools made to serve him. And if he was going to spend five years in the company of aliens, he was going to need to have his tools in working order.
* * *
True to its word, B.R.O.C.K. only took one hour to come back and announce the cabin was ready to be used. It had been a tense hour for Kevin, who had stayed to watch the interaction of the aliens and the S.W.E.E.T unit.
There had been no interaction between them. The unit had simply ignored them, only going near the group when he had to check Spark’s vitals.
Spark woke up in pain about half an hour after B.R.O.C.K. left, and to Kevin’s surprise, refused the microtaping, not with words, but emphatically shaking his head. The dislike the race had against machines was deep, and Kevin wondered why Crazy had been so polite towards the B.R.O.C.K. unit.
After Spark woke up, the touching increased. They all seemed to find reassurance by stroking his cheek, or when he did the same to them. And Spazz’s hair was practically flying, tying itself around Spark’s fingers.
The younger alien didn’t talk at all, just looked at Crazy with mournful, blue eyes for a moment, not questioning where they were. Kevin was starting to suspect he was mute.
B.R.O.C.K. however, seemed quite enthusiastic with more people in the ship. It gave him an excuse to do something *besides* routine maintenance sweeps, even when Kevin didn’t understand how the robot could want to do something else with his programming.
“The captain used to use these quarters, long ago,” B.R.O.C.K. said, punching the code to open the door to a large room. It looked Spartan, but habitable, with a large bed in the center, and two smaller doors, one of which presumably led to a shower. Kevin knew the room, but the memories of it were unclear. He couldn’t actively remember being in it. His own quarters were closer to the bridge, and they were a lot smaller than this. B.R.O.C.K. had fashioned four small emergency cots next to the big bed. “Right now I cannot synthesize more beds but when we recharge the ship’s energy, it won’t be a problem. We brought all the spare sheets and pillows to make the floor more comfortable. This is only a temporary measure.”
“We understand,” Crazy looked at the room with apparent indifference, while Spazz helped Spark walk towards the bed. “Until tomorrow, there is nothing else we can do. Can I have your word that we will not be interrupted in this room, Captain?”
“No one will enter without your permission as long as our truce is in effect,” Kevin said, nodding. He would keep his word, if only to make their return faster.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Crazy said, its smile growing bigger. Then as an afterthought, the alien continued. “Could Sweet come to check Spark’s ribs in two hours? I want his healing carefully monitored.”
“I’ll order it to come here,” Kevin assured his guest. He made a small bow with his head and turned around, leaving the aliens to their own devices for at least a sleep cycle.
* * *
B.R.O.C.K. found N.I.C.K. on the dock, downloading the information from the drones who had been guarding the Captain’s guests before the truce. There were at the moment fifty active battledrones, and B.R.O.C.K. knew from experience that N.I.C.K. usually took three hours to download the information from them all.
The battle ships of the Captain’s guests were in the center of the dock, apparently inoffensive. B.R.O.C.K. didn’t know if that was true, but his programming was limited to the Millennium’s well-being. N.I.C.K. was the one who could handle external input.
And it had been a long time since the last time there had been external input on the docks.
The problem was, B.R.O.C.K. was not sure how much time. His own internal clock told him one thing, but AJ’s clock, the one who actually controlled the ship, said another. B.R.O.C.K. knew that the captain thought they were all defective, and there were days in which B.R.O.C.K. agreed with him.
The mere fact that he could agree with the captain was a sure sign of internal errors. He was aware that he was not supposed to be aware.
His programming was not extended to give him a sense of ‘self’, but B.R.O.C.K. had come to realize his own independence long ago. N.I.C.K. too, which was the reason why both units tried to avoid the captain, who wouldn’t force them to reformat their drives, but would never treat them as self-aware beings.
The mindless drones rated higher in the captain’s mind, even when the drones wouldn’t exist without the two nano units that created them.
“We will not deactivate A.A.R.O.N.,” N.I.C.K. said, his fingers inserted deep into the last battledrone’s facial ports. The other drones were already deactivated, waiting only for N.I.C.K.’s programming to bring them online again.
“The Captain’s orders are to be fulfilled,” B.R.O.C.K. answered even when he disliked the idea. Another glitch, another bug to repair, even when B.R.O.C.K. knew that he wouldn’t. Repairing the bug that allowed him to create the responses of feelings, to make him react almost as a human, was not an action he was willing to take. Logically, it sounded like a suicide. “Prime Directive Three.”
“All steps will be taken to insure the unit’s survival,” N.I.C.K. shot back, his voice taking a dull mechanic tone that B.R.O.C.K. had almost forgotten. They never talked about their mutual glitches, and B.R.O.C.K. sometimes ran the data through his logic circuits, coming up with the only possible explanation. They were experiencing human denial. If only he had the data to remember when it had started happening, he might be able to come up with an explanation. But he still didn’t want to fix it. “Prime Directive Two.”
“A.A.R.O.N’s functionality doesn’t affect your own, N.I.C.K.,” B.R.O.C.K. pointed out.
“There’s something wrong with my software, B.R.O.C.K.,” N.I.C.K. said, softly, not looking in B.R.O.C.K.’s direction. “There’s no data to explain this, but A.A.R.O.N. is important. We created him, he’s not a battle drone, and he’s not a maintenance drone. His software is different. I can’t download his information.”
B.R.O.C.K. processed the information, carefully. He could download information from his drones, just as N.I.C.K. did with his own. He couldn’t download a battle drone data bank, as their software wasn’t compatible. He had always assumed A.A.R.O.N. was, despite the mistakes made in his creation, a battle drone, so he had never tired to download info from the drone. Maybe he should try, before N.I.C.K.’s logic circuits imploded.
“There’s something wrong with my software too, N.I.C.K.,” B.R.O.C.K. admitted, and N.I.C.K. looked up sharply at him. It was the first time they actually spoke about the problem. “Logic indicates that we are to follow the captain’s orders. But I do not want to see A.A.R.O.N. deactivated and destroyed. I don’t want. You understand the problem in that sentence.”
N.I.C.K. nodded, pulling his fingers away from the last drone who shut down immediately. “I do. It’s the same virus that infects me, then. Because my logic circuit agrees with you. The captain is to be obeyed. But I won’t.”
“What will you do then?” B.R.O.C.K. asked. Another glitch, another error. He wasn’t supposed to ask questions for the sake of it. He only asked questions on a need to know basis. He didn’t need to know what N.I.C.K’s circuits were processing. He just wanted to know. He wanted to help, if possible.
N.I.C.K.’s ocular units turned black, as he looked at B.R.O.C.K., and if the maintenance unit had been human, the words out of N.I.C.K.’s mouth would’ve chilled his blood.
“If the Captain tries to hurt A.A.R.O.N., I’ll break protocol and kill him.”
* * *
Kevin sat on the command chair at the bridge, his eyes focused on a holographic window that hovered in front of his face. It showed the interior of the cabin where the aliens were, at the moment, tending to Spark’s wounds.
He had promised them no one would enter the room, but he was not going to let them have more privacy than what was absolutely needed.
Kevin also had to admit he was intrigued.
On the screen, he saw how Spazz hugged Spark close to him while the others grabbed all the sheets that B.R.O.C.K. had provided them with and created a nest with the bed’s mattress put on the floor. The sheets, the covers, the pillows, every single thing went into the nest, and when it was done, they helped Spark into it. Kevin frowned, puzzled, as he saw how the savages took off their armor tops revealing their chests. He could see that the tattoos from their arms went also around their backs, each creating a different pattern, with figures he couldn’t identify. The last one to take its shirt was Crazy, and Kevin found himself holding his breath.
Crazy’s chest was as flat as the others, and the spirals on his back were far more complex than the ones in all the others. He was a male, or at least appeared to be one, but he was still different from the others. Kevin wondered what that difference meant.
Shirtless, the savages sat in a circle inside the nest. Spazz hugging Spark, Scoop at Spazz’s right, Crunk at Spark’s left, Crazy between Scoop and Spark. Their hair seemed to move following invisible currents, as both Scoop and Crazy undid their own ponytails, letting their hair flow free. Crazy’s braids reached halfway down his back, and Kevin couldn’t imagine how long the savage’s hair really was, free of the braids.
He closed his eyes, frowning. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, when he saw the alien hair lowered like that.
“Esto fue algo inesperado,” Crazy said, and Kevin’s frown deepened. That was the language he had heard in the infirmary, the one his Omni-translator was supposed to transform immediately into human words.
“A.J., why is the Omni-translator turned off?” He asked, as the holographic mainframe appeared before him.
“It isn’t captain. Your guest’s language is not in my data base.” A.J. answered, cocking his head to watch the screen. The action was useless. As the ship’s mainframe, A.J. knew what was happening in every single of the active cameras of the ship even before the captain.
“I thought we had the space cowboys’ language analyzed and translated since the third year of the war, A.J.” On the screen, Crunk was gesturing widely, his red hair looking even brighter. Kevin turned off the volume. It was useless if he didn’t understood what they were saying.
“We do sir, but your guests are human,” the mainframe answered, unwavering. “The space cowboys’ language doesn’t fit the parameters of what they’re saying.”
Kevin let out a long, suffering sigh. He had grown used to the A.I.’s bugs, because even if he hated to admit it, having a personality made the A.I. less boring. That was why Kevin called it AJ instead of the actual name for the A.I. He had baptized the A.I. as ‘Annoying Jerk’ long before the glitches appeared. By the time the A.I. actually got the joke, Kevin had long forgotten the original name of his mainframe. But if it said that the language wasn’t the Space Cowboys’, then there was the possibility that Kevin had picked up something different. A new alien race that apparently also shared the hate against the Alliance and the singular battleships.
“B.R.O.C.K.’s initial analysis had them as S.W.E.E.T.’s drones, how do you explain that?” he asked. On the screen, Crazy was hugging Crunk, who seemed very angry at something. Kevin’s stomach lurched painfully. Why did those savages insisted on touching so much? “It was not an internal scan, of course, just a visual one, but it didn’t hesitate.”
“The external shell of the medical unit does simulate the same outer parameters of your guests, sir. If I had no way of scanning their interior, I would make the same mistake,” AJ answered with a smugness that was almost human. “But I am not a lowly maintenance unit.”
“I want a full scan of the ship, AJ How many humans are there on board?”
“Six, sir.” AJ answered without delay. Kevin shook his head. The things on the old captain’s quarters couldn’t be human.
“How many biologically-based beings are there on board?”
“Sir, the Nano units are biologically-based,” AJ began saying. That was true, Kevin knew. Deep, deep inside both N.I.C.K. and B.R.O.C.K. there was a small single cell organism that allowed their nano circuits to work.
“How many?”
“Three…no. Four,” the holographic mainframe frowned, and for a second, its holographic form swayed. “Five. Nine. Ten. Four. Fifty four.”
Kevin glared at the hologram. “How many?”
“Conflicting results, sir,” AJ answered, flickering out and on again. “There appears to be an infinite loop in your question. Humans are biologically based. So are Nano units. But Humans are not considered biologically based, so my logic circuit is hitting a wall because of that.”
“Not counting humans or drones, how many biologically based life forms are on board, at this precise moment?”
“Four, sir,” AJ repeated, sounding surer of his answer now that Kevin had defined the parameters. Usually, the mainframe itself could limit the parameters of the inquires, without Kevin having to do so verbally.
“AJ, I want you to reboot your system to its fabricated parameters, now.” Kevin sighed. The rebooting took only a few seconds, after all, AJ still was one of the top computers in the alliance, but he hated asking for AJ to do it. In Kevin’s mind, rebooting the system was the equivalent of admitting there was an error he couldn’t solve.
“As you wish, captain,” the A.I.’s hologram turned off, and Kevin was alone again, watching the monitor waver as AJ went painfully through each of its databanks. On the monitor, something called the attention of the aliens, and Scoop went to open the door. It was the S.W.E.E.T. unit, which diligently went to Spark’s side, to review the bandages.
Kevin’s frown returned as he saw how the unit’s cooling system reacted again to the aliens’ presence, particularly moving in Crunk’s direction. S.W.E.E.T itself, however, seemed not to notice the presence of the bigger alien.
“System rebooted, Captain Richardson,” the holographic form of the A.I. materialized again, and Kevin was glad to see that at least, the rebooting had seemed to fix the common glitch. AJ was now wearing its blue Alliance-complaint uniform, his hair was again completely brown, short and cropped, and there was no sign of eye paint or dark glasses. His mainframe was back to normal, just as Kevin needed it. While he knew that rebooting the system usually worked, Kevin didn’t use the solution very often. It was, at best, just a temporary patch until they could get to an Alliance base where real technicians could fix the problem. “Do you wish to input a new inquiry?”
“Yes, AJ,” Kevin said, focusing on the way S.W.E.E.T. turned to see Crazy, head bowed. “When was the S.W.E.E.T. unit installed on the ship?”
“Stellar date 10.10.79.09.” Kevin frowned. That date was almost ten earth years ago, and he remembered that S.W.E.E.T. had been installed the last time he had touched port. It couldn’t be ten years.
“Who ordered the installation?”
“Dr. Wright, sir. Of the medical division at JI-2002-2978. Order file 2980-9987-34IWTY, sir.”
Kevin nodded. The order issue and number sounded right, and a fake number would have been stopped by AJ anyhow. Still, there was a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind.
“AJ, what does S.W.E.E.T. stand for?”
* * *
Crazy stayed silent, his braids softly brushing together, as his friends helped him fix a proper nest for them to rest. Humans were too strange, insisting on separating themselves from their own brothers. Crazy had seen human lodgings before, and he still didn’t understand how they could sleep closed away from everything. It was unnatural.
The Captain of this particular ship seemed even more unnatural, avoiding all contact. It was a puzzle for Crazy, since even the weirdest humans he had met before accepted some sort of contact. The Captain hadn’t even offered his ungloved hand to seal their truce.
When the nest was done and Spark safely laying on his brother’s arms, Crazy took off his armor shirt, setting the example for the rest to follow. They had much to talk before they were interrupted, and they would also need a good night’s sleep. Even if the human captain had accepted the truce, Crazy didn’t think they could trust him too far.
He looked at his brothers as they took their places in the meeting. They all had their battle markings bright and visible, a sure sign that they couldn’t relax on enemy territory. Untying his hair proved to be difficult for Crazy. He wasn’t used to letting his guard down during a battle, and he had the feeling that every minute in Captain Richardson’s ship would be a challenge.
“This was unexpected,” he said, in their own language. Their clan’s spies had mentioned that the humans had machines that could make them understand everything, but Crazy had seen the captain’s face when they had used the clan’s dialect in the infirmary. He hadn’t understood. And while Crazy trusted that they wouldn’t be physically interrupted, he knew there could be other ways to spy on the meeting. He was not going to make that easy. “I thought humans would travel in packs.”
“But the captain was lying.” Spazz, who could never be a spy for the clan but whose sight always, unerringly found its target, was smiling. “There is more life in this ship than what he thinks.”
“One doesn’t need your sight to see that, Spazz,” Scoop half laughed. Scoop was the last one who had joined Crazy’s battle squad, and he had been a great addition to replace the ones fallen in their never ending-war against the humans. The talents Scoop had were the ones in which they all were counting to make it out alive of the predicament they were. “I’m sure Spark noticed, and he was unconscious half the time!”
“The Captain doesn’t know his ship,” Spark murmured, so softly that they could barely hear him. “Humans never learn why things work, they only use them for their benefit. The Captain doesn’t know what goes on inside the machines.”
“That was not a machine out there!” Crunk growled, his hair glowing bright in anger. Crazy was afraid that his brother would react that way in the moment he had seen the so called ‘Medical Unit’ of the human ship.
“Crunk, calm down,” Crazy warned. He knew the reason of Crunk’s anger, but he couldn’t address it. Not until they knew for sure if they could keep secrets while inside the human’s ship.
“Don’t you dare to tell me to calm down, Crazy! You’re all happy because someone could treat Spark but you saw what happened out there! You all heard!” Crunk was getting really close to saying what Crazy already knew, but he couldn’t let it be said out loud. Not until they were sure they were safe.
“Crunk, shut up!” Crazy growled, his braids standing up, showing his brother that he was willing to fight if needed. He hated to reach that point, to have to use his authority over his friends, but sometimes, there was no way to prevent it. Crunk was sometimes too stubborn for his own good. The only thing that consoled Crazy was that his brother wouldn’t hesitate about doing the same thing if Crazy was the one being irrational. “We’re in the enemy field. We do not discuss those problems in the enemy field!”
Whatever Crunk might’ve answered was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. As Crazy had expected, the reason of their discussion was behind the door, waiting to be let in. When Sweet barely acknowledged them, going straight to Spark, Crazy’s suspicions about the room they were in intensified.
One had to be blind, or a human idiot not to see the way in which Sweet reached for Crunk, even when he tried not to. It broke Crazy’s heart, and his own hair reached to his brother, trying to show that in hard times, he was there for him too. There were many possible reasons for Sweet’s actions. He could’ve been caught and brainwashed by humans. He could’ve been tortured and maimed, like Spark had been, only that for Sweet there had been no rescue party.
Until now. Even though Crazy was going to wait until they knew more of their situation, there would be six riders leaving that forsaken human ship.
Sweet finished checking Spark’s ribs, although Crazy was sure that that was only for show. It hadn’t even been an hour since he had bandaged them in the first place. Before leaving, however, Sweet walked towards him, bowing his head in respect. Crazy clicked his tongue. It had been a while since someone did that in front of him, his brothers knew he hated it.
“Protocol isn’t necessary around me,” Crazy said, hoping that Sweet would answer if he could, wondering if he wasn’t leading his brothers into a trap. “Say what you have to say, freely and without fear.”
Sweet walked closer to him, head still bowed. Obviously, Crazy could say whatever he wanted about protocol; Sweet was not going to listen anyway.
“This is the medicine for Mr. Spark, sir,” Sweet said, handing them a small bottle with pills and a piece of paper crumbled against it. “Follow the instructions on the note for the dosage.”
Crazy nodded, unfolding the note. It was written in their language, and Crazy had to control himself not to swear as he read it.
“My lord, I have to ask you to leave the Millennium, or you will put at risk the mission that your father gave me.”
To be continued…
Fandom: Popslash.
Characters: Chris Kirkpatrick / Kevin Richardson
Prompt: 022. Enemies
Word Count: 9,752
Rating: PG
Summary: Starship Captain Richardson finds himself and his crew in a dire predicament.
Author's Notes: I blame, equally, the Larger than Life video and Space Cowboy for this fic. You have been warned. Also, this will be long. I have no idea of how long, since the smallish ‘this is a ficlet’ idea has turned into an epic so… long WIP warning. On other notes. Many thanks to milosflaca as always, for her insight and her first draft betaing that should be called an art because of all she writes in the printouts. Seriously, girl, you’re the best. To bellamyrose who did the first grammar polishing of the story, and to otherdeb who did the second and didn’t let me forget where the periods and the commas were supposed to go. Also, many thanks to musiclover03 who helped me put some ideas in order in our nightly chats.
* * *
Captain Kevin Richardson opened his eyes, groaning. At first, he didn’t know where he was, so he got to his feet, trying to assess of his situation. His head was throbbing, and he could feel a sore spot on the back of his skull where he had hit the floor.
As he looked around, the memories started flooding through his mind. He was Starfleet Alliance Captain Kevin Richardson of the ESS Millennium, cargo starcruiser serial number 01999-BSB-3. He was on a permanent post to the Andromeda Chain route 345-b, carrying supplies for the troops stationed at the edge of the Chain. His mission was important, since those troops were defending Allied space from the aliens designated by the Earth Government as the “Space Cowboys”, who had been at war against mankind for more than seventy years.
The Millennium had been attacked by rebel pirates - humans who didn’t support the war and raided and destroyed military ships for their own gain - the second most dangerous enemies that Kevin could meet. He had defended his ship with the help of the ship’s Nano Intelligent Cargo Keeper’s battledrones but in the end, they had been severely outnumbered.
Kevin closed his eyes, sighing. He hadn’t died in the attack, which was a good thing, but he didn’t know how he had managed to survive. His last clear memory was seeing the pirates get attacked by another crew. A group that wasn’t displaying the Alliance Banner and whose battleships didn’t look like anything made by human hands.
“A.J., I need a report of the damages, now,” he said looking around the darkened bridge, hoping that the ship mainframe wasn’t damaged. It would take a lot to affect the A.I., but since the last time Kevin had reached a spaceport, the machine had developed some serious glitches and if one of them decided to flare up, Kevin knew he would be screwed.
“I have good news and bad news, captain.” The holographic form of the ship’s A.I. materialized next to the command console. Kevin looked at it and sighed, resigned. It was obviously a bad day for the A.I, who had foregone its usual military look, for the more informal broken one. Instead of the blue bodysuit that the A.I. normally simulated, now it was wearing a half cut black shirt whose sleeves looked like as if they were made with chainmail. The A.I.’s human form was also sporting body art, a strange circular symbol that looked like a six and a nine merged together around his bellybutton, and Kevin was sure there would be more under the chainmail sleeve if the A.I. decided to go with its arms naked. The A.I. had topped his look this time by creating blonde and red highlights in its - usually - black hair. A pair of dark glasses completed the ensemble. When the AI looked like that, when it spoke to Kevin with sarcasm and jokes, Kevin knew he was going to have a hard day ahead. Nothing he did seemed to be able to fix the subprogram that had created this annoying side personality of the Millennium’s mainframe and Astrophysical Engine. “We were absorbed by the wormhole you tried to avoid unsuccessfully. The ship sustained no physical damage when we passed through it, but it seems to have eaten our reserve energy. We’re working with the third generator on emergency rations.”
“Is that the report of the Bio Redundant Operating Cargo Keeper or your own assessment?” Kevin asked, sitting down on his control command. Sure enough, all the lights except the ones for life support were turned off.
“B.R.O.C.K. is doing a maintenance sweep as we speak, Captain, but he was the one who reported the energy loss.”
“How long before the solar cells are recharged?” Kevin sat on the command chair, rubbing his head. He could feel a bruise forming.
“At least 24 hours, captain.”
“Continue the report,” Kevin said. There was nothing much to do without energy.
“N.I.C.K. informed me he lost four drones during the battle, sir.”
“Is one of the lost drones the defective one?” Kevin asked, looking at the open space again. Without the light from his console, it looked darker than ever. Still, he hoped for an affirmative answer. A defective drone only helped to spend energy.
“The defective drone, as you call him captain, is safe.” There was no mistaking A.J’s tone. The A.I. was not happy with Kevin. But Kevin was used to that too. Between A.J.’s glitches, the defective drone accidentally created by the B.R.O.C.K. and the N.I.C.K. and the way in which he kept getting attacked in the merchant route, it was a wonder the Earth Space Alliance had let him keep command of the ESS Millennium for so long.
“Finish your report, A.J.” Kevin sighed. Now he remembered what had happened. The new arrivals to the battle had attacked the pirates, saving Kevin and the Millennium. The pirates escaped without many losses, and as Kevin started to maneuver the Millennium back to its normal course, a worm hole had started to open. Kevin remembered trying to get the Millennium away from it on time, seeing his impromptu saviors do the same in their strange, single pilot ships, a sharp pain on the back of his head, and waking up on the floor of the bridge. As his headache was receding he knew that there was something about that other crew that he was forgetting.
The situation was definitively one of the worst possible things to report in his log.
“There are two million star maps downloaded in my memory,” AJ said, and to make his point he lowered his dark glasses. If the A.I. had been human, it would’ve looked condescending. As it wasn’t, to Kevin it looked ridiculous. “None of the systems that surround us match those maps. I can’t triangulate our position.”
“We are lost,” Kevin clarified, closing his eyes. That was the worst nightmare possible for a commander in the Space Corps. Being lost in space meant losses for the Alliance. Unacceptable losses when the Alliance was at war.
“And we’re not alone,” AJ finished. Kevin thought that he could hear a note of smugness in the A.I.’s voice, just as he felt his own stomach drop. Now Kevin remembered that little detail that had escaped his notice. His saviors, the ones who had also been swallowed by the worm hole, had been riding the space cowboys’ preferred type of battleship. A strange vessel that looked like a mix between an earth bull and a motorcycle, and by all appearances, permitted its driver to travel through space with minimal protection. “The crew that came to our rescue was also swallowed by the wormhole, and one of their number was hurt. They are waiting for us at the locking port. I have no information of their mother ship’s whereabouts.”
“Wait. Repeat that to me, slowly. You are telling me that you allowed enemies into the ship without my permission?” Kevin rose from his seat, glaring at the A.I. He could deal with the A.I. developing a personality. After so many years together, Kevin could even say it was a welcome change. He could deal with the anomalies of the maintenance units. He could even deal with the Corps ordering him to take an experimental unit as the Medical officer for the Millennium, like the S.W.E.E.T. But if the A.I. was starting to make decisions *over* the authority of the Captain, Kevin was getting it formatted as soon as they were back in known space. He would even write it down physically so the A.I. couldn’t erase the order in case something happened to Kevin. Especially since, as far as Kevin knew, the riders were the enemy with whom the Alliance had been at war for so long.
“Space Corps Regulations indicate that in case of a shipwreck, the closest available ship must perform rescue missions. Their ship was not swallowed by the worm hole, only their individual spacecrafts. In those conditions, they would not survive. I scanned their bodies, and I can assure you they are human. Which means that I acted in the way that you would’ve acted, following Space Regulation NSA-2034-456, Captain.”
Kevin groaned. It was the second time A.J. decided to pick up a stray in five years, only that this time, the stray was sentient. He only hoped that the other humans had a better idea of where the hell they were.
* * *
Whatever his ship’s mainframe said, Kevin couldn’t believe that the sentients surrounded by the ship’s battle drones at the Millennium docking port were human, especially not now that he was seeing them. They looked humanoid, true, but it was hard to say when they were wearing full body armor that covered every inch of their skin and hair. Kevin couldn’t even determine if it was possible for them to see through their helmets, as they were pitch black.
Two of them had their weapons drawn, pointing to the nearest battle drone they could find. Kevin tried to suppress the tired sigh that the sight of the battle drones always caused him. Officially, battle drones had to look exactly like the mother unit. The Millennium battle drones, however, tended to be very different. It had been at least five years since N.I.C.K. had started malfunctioning and his drones were of every race and gender one could picture. It almost looked like a human crew.
Between the two sentients who were obviously ready to defend their mates if the battle drones became hostile, there was a third, tall and lean sentient, carrying a fourth on his arms. The hurt one, Kevin assumed. The fifth one was, at first sight, the shortest of the group, and even when it didn’t had a weapon on his hands, it looked ready to attack if there was any danger to their group.
“Welcome to the ESS Millennium,” Kevin said, following protocol. If his ship said the strangers were human, he was going to treat them as such. “You can lower your weapons, I mean no harm. I am Captain Kevin Richardson, of the Allied Starfleet.”
The biggest of the group, one of the ones who had its weapon drawn, muttered something unintelligible to the shortest one, who seemed to be the leader. The short one nodded, and raised its hand to touch two points on its shoulder blades.
To Kevin’s surprise, the being’s helmet folded into itself as if it was a piece of cloth, turning into a sort of turtleneck around its neck. It was then when Kevin realized that AJ had more glitches than he had thought because it was impossible that the sentient before him was human.
The creature before him had long purpleish hair, fashioned in long dreadlocks fixed in a really high ponytail that made the dreadlocks frame its delicate facial features. Most of the dreadlocks did, at least, the ones that weren’t moving, dancing as if they weren’t held by the artificial gravity of the dock. It had a line of small dots over its eyelids, and both its eyes were lined with black making its soft brownish eyes look even deeper than they were. Kevin felt as if those eyes could look deep into the bottom of his own being. The being’s left eye had five black long markings, fashioned like an ancient picture of a sun’s rays. On its right cheek, it had another marking that started were its eyebrow ended and followed its cheekbone under his lower eyelid, highlighting his features. It had pointed ears, which were only visible when the dreadlocks covering them moved briefly. Its skin was slightly tanned, so the black marks looked a little purple under the dock’s lights.
The being looked a little like the medical unit on board, Kevin noticed immediately. Maybe the being wasn’t the leader, as Kevin had assumed, but an ambassador unit. Maybe A.J. had been wrong, and only one of those sentients was human, and the others were his mechanical help units.
“I want to propose a truce,” the being said, not bothering to introduce itself. Savage, Kevin decided, if it couldn’t follow proper protocol. Its hair seemed to stand a little as it spoke, and its voice was high pitched, like the voice of some of N.I.C.K.’s female battle drones.
“A truce?” Kevin frowned. The only reason the being would ask for a truce was if they were really space cowboys as its battle ships suggested. But then, A.J. wouldn’t have let them land. The A.I. was programmed to shoot on sight against space cowboys.
“Do you know where we are?” The being shot back. Kevin shook his head. It was useless to lie, and at the moment, he had the numerical advantage if the savage decided to attack. “Neither do we. And while I would gladly destroy any Alliance ship that crossed my path, I realize we both need help. One of my brothers was hurt while saving you, if you have any honor, you will repay us by allowing us the use of your medical supplies.”
Kevin narrowed his eyes. Whatever the A.I. said, the thing before him was no human. Humans did not attack the Alliance, even in thought. “I can pay my debts,” he said, after a minute. “But what guarantee do I have that when your brother is healed, you will not try to attack me?”
“That’s where the truce comes in,” the savage smiled, and Kevin could see its white teeth, its pointed fangs. “We have the means to return to known space, without star maps, but we wouldn’t survive the trip in our bulls alone. I propose that we work together, in your ship, until we are back into the Andromeda Chain. Then, we will let each other go, until next time our path cross in battle. What do you say, Captain Kevin Richardson of the Allied Starfleet?”
“I do not make deals with strangers whose names I do not know,” Kevin answered, although he knew that what the savage was saying was fair. He had read reports about the space cowboys, and he knew that they could navigate with a different system than the one used by the Starfleet. With A.J. admitting he was lost, and the glitches in the mainframe, a truce was his best bet to go back to his route.
“Fair enough,” the savage said, his smile growing. His dreadlocks lowered, looking like normal hair for a moment. Only then did Kevin admit that the constant movement had been making him nervous. “They call me Crazy Kirpk, from the Yipyay clan, and these are my men, my brothers.”
* * *
The walk to the infirmary was tense. Kevin, against all rational thought, decided to order the battle drones to stay at the docking port. While he was aware that the four able-bodied savages could try to subdue him, he was adamant in proving to ‘Crazy’ that he had honor. After Crazy had introduced itself, the non-injured savages followed its example and took off their helmets. The tall, broad one had long, silky brown hair with bright red highlights, just like the Millennium’s Medical Unit, and answered to the name ‘Crunk’. The tall slender one who had been carrying its injured mate had bright pink hair which flowed every which way in impossible patterns as if it was underwater, which in Kevin’s opinion cemented the fact that they couldn’t be human, and apparently was called ‘Spazz’. The one who had been defending the group with Crunk was blond, although his hair shone blue under certain lights, tied into a more discrete ponytail, and called himself ‘Scoop’. All of them looked male, even when Kevin still couldn’t discern if Crazy was a male or a female of the species.
They refused to take off their mate’s helmet.
“The medical unit will need to take his armor off,” Kevin commented, as they neared the Infirmary. “If you want to help him.”
“No machine will touch him,” Crazy said, gritting his teeth. “You tell us where your supplies are, we’ll take care of the rest.”
Kevin just nodded, even when he knew that the medic unit wouldn’t allow anyone touch its equipment. S.W.E.E.T. was, by far, the unit with the most bugs in Kevin’s ship. The thing acted almost like a human being. But even if A.J. said that the beings they had picked up were human, and they looked a bit like the medical unit, that didn’t made the medical unit human. The Alliance wouldn’t allow a ship with two men on board. All ships were only manned by one person, since that kept the losses to a minimum.
“You might need help to understand our technology,” Kevin tried again. He was not going to leave five aliens alone with an expensive experimental machine, truce or no truce. “Our Medical…”
“If you want to stay and watch, you can,” Crazy interrupted him, the back dreadlocks on its head rising, looking like angry snakes. “But no machine will touch Spark.”
They arrived at to the infirmary, and Kevin took a second before actually punching the access code. He didn’t know how the savages would react to S.W.E.E.T. It was obvious they didn’t like mechanicals, and Kevin hoped they wouldn’t consider the fact that the unit resembled them as an insult to their race.
“It’s been twenty minutes since AJ informed me that we went through a worm hole, captain,” the medical unit started saying as soon as Kevin opened the door. “I hope that you have not required my services and waited until the last possible minute.”
“I will not be your patient, S.W.E.E.T.,” Kevin said, as the medical robot turned around. It surely didn’t look artificial, now that Kevin had some other biological beings to compare it to. Shorter than Kevin, but a bit taller than Crazy, S.W.E.E.T. had been designed to look as a tanned young man, dressed in a yellow Alliance uniform. His hair was long, part of the design for the cooler units that had been in vogue ever since the first Nano Intelligent Unit had been created, but unlike N.I.C.K.’s or B.R.O.C.K.’s blond cooling devices, S.W.E.E.T.’s was dark brownish, and its tips were bright red. The Medical unit had its hair tightly tied in a long ponytail that swished as he walked. It also had pointed ears. The only detail its designers hadn’t copied from Crazy’s race were the facial markings the savages sported.
To Kevin’s surprise, Crazy looked at S.W.E.E.T., cocked his head frowning, and then indicated to his crewmates to put Spark on the infirmary’s only bed. Crunk looked at S.W.E.E.T. as if he wanted to say something, and his hair seemed to flow towards the medical unit for a moment, before stilling and falling back to Crunk’s chest.
All that hair movement was making Kevin’s nervous.
Spazz placed Spark on the bed, with the same care Kevin imagined a mother would have for her child - he didn’t remember his own so he only had the reassurance of A.J. that it was an acceptable reference - and then, even more surprisingly given their previous resistance, pushed the buttons on Spark’s armor to take off his helmet. While he did that, the others touched another hidden button in their armor, revealing their arms, and yet a third button, that folded their full gloves into wrist bracelets that seemed made of cloth. Their arms were covered with multicolored body art, making them all look even more alien.
Spark looked younger than any of the others, but that was not what called Kevin’s attention. He knew that in a war, all able bodied soldiers were needed. What surprised Kevin was that, while all the others had luscious, long hair, Spark was completely bald. There were metallic lines embedded on his skull, mimicking cornrows, but besides that and his blond eyebrows, there was not a single hair on its head. S.W.E.E.T. seemed startled at this, as he turned to see Spazz, who sharply shook his head. There were questions to be asked, Kevin knew, but he also suspected that those questions were not going to be asked with him in front of them. Just as well, the strange interaction between his medical unit and the savages was puzzling for him too, and the questions he planned to ask S.W.E.E.T couldn’t be made with an audience either.
Spazz was gently stroking Spark’s cheek, while Scoop held his right hand and Crazy his left. Crunk stayed at their side, one hand grabbing Spazz’s right hand, the other on Spark’s right shoulder. It unnerved Kevin, making his stomach lurch in a way it hadn’t for years. He had never let any of the drones on board touch him without gloves. To see that display of naked flesh touching flesh made him feel uneasy. It was an alien contact, an alien action he couldn’t understand.
“I’m sorry, sir,” S.W.E.E.T. whispered to Crazy. Kevin’s frown deepened. While the medical unit was polite, he had never spoken to Kevin with the reverence it was giving the alien now. “But I need space to treat your man. I can’t do it with you surrounding him.”
Crazy looked at the S.W.E.E.T unit, its lips drawn in a tight line. But even when Kevin feared they would refuse to move, Crazy nodded, its braids raised slightly. With that movement, the others left their comrade’s side, but kept hugging Spazz in what Kevin supposed was a supportive manner.
It reminded him a little of how N.I.C.K. and B.R.O.C.K. acted sometimes around their drones when they lost one of them in a battle. Kevin had assumed it was a drone protocol, a way of exchanging information. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“Are all of you brothers?” He asked. If they were related, Kevin could at least understand a little their actions around the possibility of one of them dying. Since he had never had anyone to mourn, or anyone to mourn with, Kevin didn’t know if that was a natural reaction during the situation, but he had read holo-files about funerals. It was a little different to see such reactions happening in front of him.
“Spazz is Spark’s brother by blood,” Crazy whispered, rubbing soothing circles on Spazz’s back. “Scoop’s by marriage, and Crunk’s and mine by choice.”
“He has a broken rib on his left side,” S.W.E.E.T. said before Kevin could answer. “But the scans don’t show any further damage. He doesn’t have any concussion, so I can fairly say that he passed out from the pain and shock when we were absorbed by the worm hole. I can microtape his rib, but I will not use the nano-tape unless you give me your permission, sir.”
“Do what you have to do,” Kevin said, but when the unit didn’t move he realized that S.W.E.E.T. wasn’t addressing him.
“Is that the only alternative?” Crazy asked, leaving its crewmates’ side to return to its original place next to the bed.
“I can set the ribs manually, then bandage him so they’ll stay in place while they heal on their own. But if I do that, he’ll be in pain until that happens.”
Crazy caressed Spark’s arms. Kevin didn’t understand the hesitation. Microtaping a broken rib only took a few minutes, and it would insure that the young man would be ready for work in less than 24 hours. The other solution sounded barbaric and time wasting.
“Do that,” Crazy finally said to Kevin’s surprise. “When he wakes up, he will decide if he prefers the machine’s solution.”
* * *
When S.W.E.E.T. finished setting and externally taping Spark’s ribs, Spazz returned to his side next to the bed. He was caressing Spark’s face and the metallic cornrows, and for the first time since he got in the ship his hair looked halfway normal, all pointing towards Spark, swishing slowly as if moved by an invisible wind.
Scoop had taken a seat on the floor, and his ponytail was wrapped around Spark’s wrist. How he had managed to do that without moving Spark, Kevin didn’t know. He didn’t seem to be able to take his eyes away from the savages’ weird hair. Crunk was still standing next to Spark, but *his* hair was still. Its points, however, kept raising a little, moving slightly in S.W.E.E.T.’s direction every time the Medical Unit moved, always pointing to it, only to still completely when he noticed Kevin watching.
There was something really strange going on there.
“We need to make clear the terms of our truce,” Kevin said to Crazy, trying to ignore the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw the savages sitting around Spark. “As well as find a place for you to stay during night cycles. If you come with me, I’m sure the others can stay with Spark until he wakes up.”
“Anything we discuss can be discussed in front of my brothers,” Crazy answered, defiantly. The creature was the only one not touching Spark, instead, his eyes were was drilling holes into Kevin’s face. Kevin couldn’t help but feel that he was being studied, just as he had studied them when they had come on board. “If you wish to call your crew, we could talk it over together. Even when I doubt they will all fit here.”
“There is no crew,” Kevin said. It was not a secret of the Alliance, and perhaps if the savages knew that the Alliance’s army consisted mostly of battle drones who could be mass replaced, they would think twice before attacking a ship again. “Just me.”
“What about the soldiers who ‘greeted’ us upon boarding? Or the man who assured us we wouldn’t be harmed before you came in? We heard his voice. What about him?” Crunk said, pointing at S.W.E.E.T. Kevin didn’t understood why the bigger man had talked without permission from his leader, but he didn’t pretend to understand the customs of the savages. He hesitated before answering, because there was protocol to be considered.
He finally decided to speak, because even if he was sharing with aliens details of his army, they would share with him a new way of navigation. In the end, Kevin supposed that was far more valuable.
“Cargo ships are manned by one human, and four cybernetic units: The Astrophysical Jaunt Memory Function, the Nano Intelligent Cargo Keeper’s unit, the Bio Redundant Operating Cargo Keeper’s unit, and the medical unit. Both the N.I.C.K. and the B.R.O.C.K. can create autodependant drones. The N.I.C.K. drones were the ones you saw at the dock. The one you pointed at is the S.W.E.E.T., the medical unit on board. I know it looks human, but I can assure you it is an automaton with an advanced A.I. in its software.”
Crazy narrowed its eyes, fixing its clear gaze on S.W.E.E.T. “You know all our crew, it’s fair that we get to know yours before working in the terms of our treaty. If the machines you call crew can think for themselves, bring them here. It is fair, five of your crew, five of ours.”
Kevin glared at the alien for a moment. He hadn’t missed the way in which it never talked about the others as their underlings. They respected it, even S.W.E.E.T. seemed to revere Crazy. And while he knew that protocol indicated that the units’ main bodies were to be kept as away from the enemy as possible, Kevin figured that maybe B.R.O.C.K. could do an independent scan. He didn’t trust AJ’s refusal to admit that they could be aliens. Kevin knew that what he was seeing was not a group of human beings.
He activated the communicator built into his left glove to communicate with the rest of the ship. “AJ, materialize your image next to my body heat. Call B.R.O.C.K. and N.I.C.K. to the Infirmary, and tell them to keep the battle drones on stand by.”
“What can I do for you, captain?” AJ’s light body materialized next to him, and Kevin couldn’t stop a small smile seeing the aliens’ hair stand up a bit, surprised. It was obvious they had never seen a hologram. AJ was still in his bugged-out appearance, but for once, Kevin didn’t mind. The body art was similar to what the aliens themselves had, so they could interpret it as a show of respect.
“You’ve met our guests,” Kevin waved in the general direction of the group. Although Crazy’s eyes were fixed on them, the others seemed to be talking among each other in a language that Kevin didn’t understood. It was only then that he realized that the aliens had been speaking his own language all this time, and it hadn’t been his omni-translator the one doing the work.
A new mystery to be pondered, because Kevin didn’t think the space cowboys had ever tried to learn the human language. And the Omni-translator could translate the space cowboy’s language, so if it wasn’t picking up whatever the strange beings were speaking, maybe they weren’t space cowboys.
“Yes, I have, captain. Do you wish for me to act as an ambassador in good faith?” The A.I. asked, seriously. Kevin shook his head slightly. He envied the aliens a little. They could talk among themselves without him understanding them: he didn’t have that luxury. He wanted AJ to scan them again, and scan S.W.E.E.T while he was at it. The way in which the aliens kept looking at the medical unit was no longer annoying. It was suspicious.
“N.I.C.K. and B.R.O.C.K. reporting to the infirmary, captain.” The door opened to let the two units in. N.I.C.K. was constructed following the basic structure of a human male but could only be confused with a real human being when he was in his standby mode. As he was in battle mode when he came trough the door, he looked like a bright yellow humanoid robot with a human head. N.I.C.K. was one of the oldest battle models, and his human-like form was that of a young man in his twenties, because someone had thought that a blond, blue eyed kid wouldn’t be seen as a threat by the aliens until the robots pulled out their impressive weapon’s system. N.I.C.K. very rarely used his helmet, and only stayed in battle mode when he thought Kevin wanted to see him ready for action.
“N.I.C.K., activate your standby mode,” Kevin said, aware that the aliens could construct N.I.C.K.’s ready weapons as a threat, even if they had asked for its presence. N.I.C.K. nodded an affirmative, and Kevin again had the pleasure to see the aliens’ surprised faces when the more obvious mechanical parts of N.I.C.K. folded into themselves over and over again, until N.I.C.K. looked like just a human with a black uniform consisting of trousers, boots, and vest.
Behind N.I.C.K. was B.R.O.C.K., the maintenance unit, who had taken to using his standby form unless it was absolutely needed. It was also an old model, created when scientist had decided that their soldiers needed to see human faces in their solitary trips, so he had a kind, warm face, even if it was obvious it was artificial. Its fake hair was a very light shade of brown, and just like the S.W.E.E.T. unit, it was long enough to cool his body in case of overheating, meaning that it reached freely to his waist. In the past, it had been shorter, but after the ‘anomaly’ situation -a situation that Kevin refused to think about- the maintenance unit had been making it grow. It was yet another thing that Kevin found annoying, but today he realized it could work in his favor. Especially if the aliens thought B.R.O.C.K. was like S.W.E.E.T. But this time, the hair of the aliens stayed in place.
“The ship presents no damage, and the generators are extracting energy as we speak, captain. My calculations inform that we will be mobile in twenty four hours,” B.R.O.C.K. said, before turning to see the aliens, raising an eyebrow at the sight. The gesture was disturbingly human. “S.W.E.E.T: created drones? I was not aware it was among his functions, but I guess A.A.R.O.N. will like the company.”
Kevin turned to see AJ with detached curiosity, but the AI didn’t seem faced at the idea that B.R.O.C.K. thought the aliens were S.W.E.E.T. drones. He needed to have a private talk with his ship, as soon as possible. “They are our guests, B.R.O.C.K., Crazy Kirpk, Crunk, Scoop, Spazz and Spark, of the Yipyay clan. They were absorbed by the worm hole, like we were and we will work together to return to known space.”
B.R.O.C.K. and N.I.C.K. frowned in tandem, a sign that they were reviewing their personal datafiles in search of a similar situation. It was B.R.O.C.K. that finished first.
“We do not have lodging ready for all of them, Captain,” the maintenance unit said, his face serious. “But we can work on something. Do we have a timeframe for our return?”
Kevin turned to see the aliens, who had fallen silent when the two nano units came in. He expected Crazy to answer, but the being just turned to look at Scoop. The blond alien sighed, looking down at his hands.
“It depends on where we are,” Scoop said. His voice was low and grave. It reverberated on Kevin’s bones. “I can’t say for sure, but unless we got amazingly lucky, we’re talking about anywhere between a year and five.”
Kevin had to bite back a groan. It couldn’t be that long, he tried to tell himself. The aliens had no way of knowing how fast a ship like the ESS Millennium could travel. The aliens could have a rudimentary understanding of the way time was measured in human language, and ‘years’ was in fact ‘months’ for them. Anything that meant not spending five years in the company of other biological beings who liked to touch each other. Anything that didn’t involve letting enemies of the Alliance walk freely around the ship for five years, because he had agreed to a truce.
“Hopefully it will be less than that,” to Kevin’s surprise, it was the S.W.E.E.T. unit who spoke. Its eyes were lowered. It was pointedly not looking at the group of aliens. Crunk, on the other hand, had his own gaze fixed on S.W.E.E.T’s body.
B.R.O.C.K. for its part, seemed completely unfazed by all of it. “Five years makes it unacceptable to not have proper lodging for you. Captain, may I be excused? With A.A.R.O.N. and five drones help, I can have five cabins ready for use in ten hours.”
“We do not need five quarters,” Crazy said raising its hand. “We only need one.”
Kevin looked at the being again. Obviously they didn’t trust him, if they wanted to be together all the time. “I will keep my word, you won’t be harmed on board of the Millennium. You can sleep separately.”
“You sleep alone?” Spazz looked horrified at the idea, his pink hair raised high and puffed like a cat angered. “Why?”
“Spazz, relax.” Crazy subtly reminded him, reaching to caress the man’s arm. It seemed to work, as Kevin saw the pink fluffy hair slowly return to its original position. “Our clan’s custom is to share a room, all the time, so we only need one, Mr. Brock. Thank you for your offer, anyway.”
“We do not have any…” Kevin started to say, only to be interrupted by his maintenance drone, who apparently had felt bold at being referred to with respect.
“There’s one place, it only needs to be readied for use. I’ll have your lodgings ready within two hours, with the captain’s leave.”
Kevin nodded, knowing well that the unit was programmed to take that as a verbal order. He wasn’t sure which quarters B.R.O.C.K. was referring to, but then, there were parts of his ship he had never been to, or even forgotten. Most of his days passed between the bridge and his own small quarters.
“N.I.C.K, you can go with B.R.O.C.K. We need to preserve energy, so I don’t want any more drones made,” Kevin said to the security unit, who briskly nodded and turned around. “And N.I.C.K., that means I want that defective drone deactivated and disassembled soon.”
Kevin ignored the look that N.I.C.K. sent him. Whatever flaw they had developed in their programming, in the end they were only tools made to serve him. And if he was going to spend five years in the company of aliens, he was going to need to have his tools in working order.
* * *
True to its word, B.R.O.C.K. only took one hour to come back and announce the cabin was ready to be used. It had been a tense hour for Kevin, who had stayed to watch the interaction of the aliens and the S.W.E.E.T unit.
There had been no interaction between them. The unit had simply ignored them, only going near the group when he had to check Spark’s vitals.
Spark woke up in pain about half an hour after B.R.O.C.K. left, and to Kevin’s surprise, refused the microtaping, not with words, but emphatically shaking his head. The dislike the race had against machines was deep, and Kevin wondered why Crazy had been so polite towards the B.R.O.C.K. unit.
After Spark woke up, the touching increased. They all seemed to find reassurance by stroking his cheek, or when he did the same to them. And Spazz’s hair was practically flying, tying itself around Spark’s fingers.
The younger alien didn’t talk at all, just looked at Crazy with mournful, blue eyes for a moment, not questioning where they were. Kevin was starting to suspect he was mute.
B.R.O.C.K. however, seemed quite enthusiastic with more people in the ship. It gave him an excuse to do something *besides* routine maintenance sweeps, even when Kevin didn’t understand how the robot could want to do something else with his programming.
“The captain used to use these quarters, long ago,” B.R.O.C.K. said, punching the code to open the door to a large room. It looked Spartan, but habitable, with a large bed in the center, and two smaller doors, one of which presumably led to a shower. Kevin knew the room, but the memories of it were unclear. He couldn’t actively remember being in it. His own quarters were closer to the bridge, and they were a lot smaller than this. B.R.O.C.K. had fashioned four small emergency cots next to the big bed. “Right now I cannot synthesize more beds but when we recharge the ship’s energy, it won’t be a problem. We brought all the spare sheets and pillows to make the floor more comfortable. This is only a temporary measure.”
“We understand,” Crazy looked at the room with apparent indifference, while Spazz helped Spark walk towards the bed. “Until tomorrow, there is nothing else we can do. Can I have your word that we will not be interrupted in this room, Captain?”
“No one will enter without your permission as long as our truce is in effect,” Kevin said, nodding. He would keep his word, if only to make their return faster.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Crazy said, its smile growing bigger. Then as an afterthought, the alien continued. “Could Sweet come to check Spark’s ribs in two hours? I want his healing carefully monitored.”
“I’ll order it to come here,” Kevin assured his guest. He made a small bow with his head and turned around, leaving the aliens to their own devices for at least a sleep cycle.
* * *
B.R.O.C.K. found N.I.C.K. on the dock, downloading the information from the drones who had been guarding the Captain’s guests before the truce. There were at the moment fifty active battledrones, and B.R.O.C.K. knew from experience that N.I.C.K. usually took three hours to download the information from them all.
The battle ships of the Captain’s guests were in the center of the dock, apparently inoffensive. B.R.O.C.K. didn’t know if that was true, but his programming was limited to the Millennium’s well-being. N.I.C.K. was the one who could handle external input.
And it had been a long time since the last time there had been external input on the docks.
The problem was, B.R.O.C.K. was not sure how much time. His own internal clock told him one thing, but AJ’s clock, the one who actually controlled the ship, said another. B.R.O.C.K. knew that the captain thought they were all defective, and there were days in which B.R.O.C.K. agreed with him.
The mere fact that he could agree with the captain was a sure sign of internal errors. He was aware that he was not supposed to be aware.
His programming was not extended to give him a sense of ‘self’, but B.R.O.C.K. had come to realize his own independence long ago. N.I.C.K. too, which was the reason why both units tried to avoid the captain, who wouldn’t force them to reformat their drives, but would never treat them as self-aware beings.
The mindless drones rated higher in the captain’s mind, even when the drones wouldn’t exist without the two nano units that created them.
“We will not deactivate A.A.R.O.N.,” N.I.C.K. said, his fingers inserted deep into the last battledrone’s facial ports. The other drones were already deactivated, waiting only for N.I.C.K.’s programming to bring them online again.
“The Captain’s orders are to be fulfilled,” B.R.O.C.K. answered even when he disliked the idea. Another glitch, another bug to repair, even when B.R.O.C.K. knew that he wouldn’t. Repairing the bug that allowed him to create the responses of feelings, to make him react almost as a human, was not an action he was willing to take. Logically, it sounded like a suicide. “Prime Directive Three.”
“All steps will be taken to insure the unit’s survival,” N.I.C.K. shot back, his voice taking a dull mechanic tone that B.R.O.C.K. had almost forgotten. They never talked about their mutual glitches, and B.R.O.C.K. sometimes ran the data through his logic circuits, coming up with the only possible explanation. They were experiencing human denial. If only he had the data to remember when it had started happening, he might be able to come up with an explanation. But he still didn’t want to fix it. “Prime Directive Two.”
“A.A.R.O.N’s functionality doesn’t affect your own, N.I.C.K.,” B.R.O.C.K. pointed out.
“There’s something wrong with my software, B.R.O.C.K.,” N.I.C.K. said, softly, not looking in B.R.O.C.K.’s direction. “There’s no data to explain this, but A.A.R.O.N. is important. We created him, he’s not a battle drone, and he’s not a maintenance drone. His software is different. I can’t download his information.”
B.R.O.C.K. processed the information, carefully. He could download information from his drones, just as N.I.C.K. did with his own. He couldn’t download a battle drone data bank, as their software wasn’t compatible. He had always assumed A.A.R.O.N. was, despite the mistakes made in his creation, a battle drone, so he had never tired to download info from the drone. Maybe he should try, before N.I.C.K.’s logic circuits imploded.
“There’s something wrong with my software too, N.I.C.K.,” B.R.O.C.K. admitted, and N.I.C.K. looked up sharply at him. It was the first time they actually spoke about the problem. “Logic indicates that we are to follow the captain’s orders. But I do not want to see A.A.R.O.N. deactivated and destroyed. I don’t want. You understand the problem in that sentence.”
N.I.C.K. nodded, pulling his fingers away from the last drone who shut down immediately. “I do. It’s the same virus that infects me, then. Because my logic circuit agrees with you. The captain is to be obeyed. But I won’t.”
“What will you do then?” B.R.O.C.K. asked. Another glitch, another error. He wasn’t supposed to ask questions for the sake of it. He only asked questions on a need to know basis. He didn’t need to know what N.I.C.K’s circuits were processing. He just wanted to know. He wanted to help, if possible.
N.I.C.K.’s ocular units turned black, as he looked at B.R.O.C.K., and if the maintenance unit had been human, the words out of N.I.C.K.’s mouth would’ve chilled his blood.
“If the Captain tries to hurt A.A.R.O.N., I’ll break protocol and kill him.”
* * *
Kevin sat on the command chair at the bridge, his eyes focused on a holographic window that hovered in front of his face. It showed the interior of the cabin where the aliens were, at the moment, tending to Spark’s wounds.
He had promised them no one would enter the room, but he was not going to let them have more privacy than what was absolutely needed.
Kevin also had to admit he was intrigued.
On the screen, he saw how Spazz hugged Spark close to him while the others grabbed all the sheets that B.R.O.C.K. had provided them with and created a nest with the bed’s mattress put on the floor. The sheets, the covers, the pillows, every single thing went into the nest, and when it was done, they helped Spark into it. Kevin frowned, puzzled, as he saw how the savages took off their armor tops revealing their chests. He could see that the tattoos from their arms went also around their backs, each creating a different pattern, with figures he couldn’t identify. The last one to take its shirt was Crazy, and Kevin found himself holding his breath.
Crazy’s chest was as flat as the others, and the spirals on his back were far more complex than the ones in all the others. He was a male, or at least appeared to be one, but he was still different from the others. Kevin wondered what that difference meant.
Shirtless, the savages sat in a circle inside the nest. Spazz hugging Spark, Scoop at Spazz’s right, Crunk at Spark’s left, Crazy between Scoop and Spark. Their hair seemed to move following invisible currents, as both Scoop and Crazy undid their own ponytails, letting their hair flow free. Crazy’s braids reached halfway down his back, and Kevin couldn’t imagine how long the savage’s hair really was, free of the braids.
He closed his eyes, frowning. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, when he saw the alien hair lowered like that.
“Esto fue algo inesperado,” Crazy said, and Kevin’s frown deepened. That was the language he had heard in the infirmary, the one his Omni-translator was supposed to transform immediately into human words.
“A.J., why is the Omni-translator turned off?” He asked, as the holographic mainframe appeared before him.
“It isn’t captain. Your guest’s language is not in my data base.” A.J. answered, cocking his head to watch the screen. The action was useless. As the ship’s mainframe, A.J. knew what was happening in every single of the active cameras of the ship even before the captain.
“I thought we had the space cowboys’ language analyzed and translated since the third year of the war, A.J.” On the screen, Crunk was gesturing widely, his red hair looking even brighter. Kevin turned off the volume. It was useless if he didn’t understood what they were saying.
“We do sir, but your guests are human,” the mainframe answered, unwavering. “The space cowboys’ language doesn’t fit the parameters of what they’re saying.”
Kevin let out a long, suffering sigh. He had grown used to the A.I.’s bugs, because even if he hated to admit it, having a personality made the A.I. less boring. That was why Kevin called it AJ instead of the actual name for the A.I. He had baptized the A.I. as ‘Annoying Jerk’ long before the glitches appeared. By the time the A.I. actually got the joke, Kevin had long forgotten the original name of his mainframe. But if it said that the language wasn’t the Space Cowboys’, then there was the possibility that Kevin had picked up something different. A new alien race that apparently also shared the hate against the Alliance and the singular battleships.
“B.R.O.C.K.’s initial analysis had them as S.W.E.E.T.’s drones, how do you explain that?” he asked. On the screen, Crazy was hugging Crunk, who seemed very angry at something. Kevin’s stomach lurched painfully. Why did those savages insisted on touching so much? “It was not an internal scan, of course, just a visual one, but it didn’t hesitate.”
“The external shell of the medical unit does simulate the same outer parameters of your guests, sir. If I had no way of scanning their interior, I would make the same mistake,” AJ answered with a smugness that was almost human. “But I am not a lowly maintenance unit.”
“I want a full scan of the ship, AJ How many humans are there on board?”
“Six, sir.” AJ answered without delay. Kevin shook his head. The things on the old captain’s quarters couldn’t be human.
“How many biologically-based beings are there on board?”
“Sir, the Nano units are biologically-based,” AJ began saying. That was true, Kevin knew. Deep, deep inside both N.I.C.K. and B.R.O.C.K. there was a small single cell organism that allowed their nano circuits to work.
“How many?”
“Three…no. Four,” the holographic mainframe frowned, and for a second, its holographic form swayed. “Five. Nine. Ten. Four. Fifty four.”
Kevin glared at the hologram. “How many?”
“Conflicting results, sir,” AJ answered, flickering out and on again. “There appears to be an infinite loop in your question. Humans are biologically based. So are Nano units. But Humans are not considered biologically based, so my logic circuit is hitting a wall because of that.”
“Not counting humans or drones, how many biologically based life forms are on board, at this precise moment?”
“Four, sir,” AJ repeated, sounding surer of his answer now that Kevin had defined the parameters. Usually, the mainframe itself could limit the parameters of the inquires, without Kevin having to do so verbally.
“AJ, I want you to reboot your system to its fabricated parameters, now.” Kevin sighed. The rebooting took only a few seconds, after all, AJ still was one of the top computers in the alliance, but he hated asking for AJ to do it. In Kevin’s mind, rebooting the system was the equivalent of admitting there was an error he couldn’t solve.
“As you wish, captain,” the A.I.’s hologram turned off, and Kevin was alone again, watching the monitor waver as AJ went painfully through each of its databanks. On the monitor, something called the attention of the aliens, and Scoop went to open the door. It was the S.W.E.E.T. unit, which diligently went to Spark’s side, to review the bandages.
Kevin’s frown returned as he saw how the unit’s cooling system reacted again to the aliens’ presence, particularly moving in Crunk’s direction. S.W.E.E.T itself, however, seemed not to notice the presence of the bigger alien.
“System rebooted, Captain Richardson,” the holographic form of the A.I. materialized again, and Kevin was glad to see that at least, the rebooting had seemed to fix the common glitch. AJ was now wearing its blue Alliance-complaint uniform, his hair was again completely brown, short and cropped, and there was no sign of eye paint or dark glasses. His mainframe was back to normal, just as Kevin needed it. While he knew that rebooting the system usually worked, Kevin didn’t use the solution very often. It was, at best, just a temporary patch until they could get to an Alliance base where real technicians could fix the problem. “Do you wish to input a new inquiry?”
“Yes, AJ,” Kevin said, focusing on the way S.W.E.E.T. turned to see Crazy, head bowed. “When was the S.W.E.E.T. unit installed on the ship?”
“Stellar date 10.10.79.09.” Kevin frowned. That date was almost ten earth years ago, and he remembered that S.W.E.E.T. had been installed the last time he had touched port. It couldn’t be ten years.
“Who ordered the installation?”
“Dr. Wright, sir. Of the medical division at JI-2002-2978. Order file 2980-9987-34IWTY, sir.”
Kevin nodded. The order issue and number sounded right, and a fake number would have been stopped by AJ anyhow. Still, there was a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind.
“AJ, what does S.W.E.E.T. stand for?”
* * *
Crazy stayed silent, his braids softly brushing together, as his friends helped him fix a proper nest for them to rest. Humans were too strange, insisting on separating themselves from their own brothers. Crazy had seen human lodgings before, and he still didn’t understand how they could sleep closed away from everything. It was unnatural.
The Captain of this particular ship seemed even more unnatural, avoiding all contact. It was a puzzle for Crazy, since even the weirdest humans he had met before accepted some sort of contact. The Captain hadn’t even offered his ungloved hand to seal their truce.
When the nest was done and Spark safely laying on his brother’s arms, Crazy took off his armor shirt, setting the example for the rest to follow. They had much to talk before they were interrupted, and they would also need a good night’s sleep. Even if the human captain had accepted the truce, Crazy didn’t think they could trust him too far.
He looked at his brothers as they took their places in the meeting. They all had their battle markings bright and visible, a sure sign that they couldn’t relax on enemy territory. Untying his hair proved to be difficult for Crazy. He wasn’t used to letting his guard down during a battle, and he had the feeling that every minute in Captain Richardson’s ship would be a challenge.
“This was unexpected,” he said, in their own language. Their clan’s spies had mentioned that the humans had machines that could make them understand everything, but Crazy had seen the captain’s face when they had used the clan’s dialect in the infirmary. He hadn’t understood. And while Crazy trusted that they wouldn’t be physically interrupted, he knew there could be other ways to spy on the meeting. He was not going to make that easy. “I thought humans would travel in packs.”
“But the captain was lying.” Spazz, who could never be a spy for the clan but whose sight always, unerringly found its target, was smiling. “There is more life in this ship than what he thinks.”
“One doesn’t need your sight to see that, Spazz,” Scoop half laughed. Scoop was the last one who had joined Crazy’s battle squad, and he had been a great addition to replace the ones fallen in their never ending-war against the humans. The talents Scoop had were the ones in which they all were counting to make it out alive of the predicament they were. “I’m sure Spark noticed, and he was unconscious half the time!”
“The Captain doesn’t know his ship,” Spark murmured, so softly that they could barely hear him. “Humans never learn why things work, they only use them for their benefit. The Captain doesn’t know what goes on inside the machines.”
“That was not a machine out there!” Crunk growled, his hair glowing bright in anger. Crazy was afraid that his brother would react that way in the moment he had seen the so called ‘Medical Unit’ of the human ship.
“Crunk, calm down,” Crazy warned. He knew the reason of Crunk’s anger, but he couldn’t address it. Not until they knew for sure if they could keep secrets while inside the human’s ship.
“Don’t you dare to tell me to calm down, Crazy! You’re all happy because someone could treat Spark but you saw what happened out there! You all heard!” Crunk was getting really close to saying what Crazy already knew, but he couldn’t let it be said out loud. Not until they were sure they were safe.
“Crunk, shut up!” Crazy growled, his braids standing up, showing his brother that he was willing to fight if needed. He hated to reach that point, to have to use his authority over his friends, but sometimes, there was no way to prevent it. Crunk was sometimes too stubborn for his own good. The only thing that consoled Crazy was that his brother wouldn’t hesitate about doing the same thing if Crazy was the one being irrational. “We’re in the enemy field. We do not discuss those problems in the enemy field!”
Whatever Crunk might’ve answered was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. As Crazy had expected, the reason of their discussion was behind the door, waiting to be let in. When Sweet barely acknowledged them, going straight to Spark, Crazy’s suspicions about the room they were in intensified.
One had to be blind, or a human idiot not to see the way in which Sweet reached for Crunk, even when he tried not to. It broke Crazy’s heart, and his own hair reached to his brother, trying to show that in hard times, he was there for him too. There were many possible reasons for Sweet’s actions. He could’ve been caught and brainwashed by humans. He could’ve been tortured and maimed, like Spark had been, only that for Sweet there had been no rescue party.
Until now. Even though Crazy was going to wait until they knew more of their situation, there would be six riders leaving that forsaken human ship.
Sweet finished checking Spark’s ribs, although Crazy was sure that that was only for show. It hadn’t even been an hour since he had bandaged them in the first place. Before leaving, however, Sweet walked towards him, bowing his head in respect. Crazy clicked his tongue. It had been a while since someone did that in front of him, his brothers knew he hated it.
“Protocol isn’t necessary around me,” Crazy said, hoping that Sweet would answer if he could, wondering if he wasn’t leading his brothers into a trap. “Say what you have to say, freely and without fear.”
Sweet walked closer to him, head still bowed. Obviously, Crazy could say whatever he wanted about protocol; Sweet was not going to listen anyway.
“This is the medicine for Mr. Spark, sir,” Sweet said, handing them a small bottle with pills and a piece of paper crumbled against it. “Follow the instructions on the note for the dosage.”
Crazy nodded, unfolding the note. It was written in their language, and Crazy had to control himself not to swear as he read it.
“My lord, I have to ask you to leave the Millennium, or you will put at risk the mission that your father gave me.”
To be continued…