Bindler was indeed waiting for her as she stepped over the airlock threshold and onto Indigo Station. He opened his arms as if he wanted to hug her. She stared at him, resisting the urge to deck him.
“You seem unhappy,” Bindler said, confused.
“Seem?” Enedelia asked.
“You should be ecstatic! You’ve returned against all odd,” Bindler said. “I won
money in the company pool thanks to you. More than I earn in a week’s salary!”
“You gambled on me?” Enedelia asked.
“And won!” he said. “I knew you were a pilot the moment you stepped into my
office. Oh, you are going to be so successful.”
“I want out!” Enedelia yelled, attracting more than a few glances.
Bindler took her by the arm and moved her towards customs. “Not so loud. You
don’t want that stuff getting around. It can affect your credit rating, and BioCorp may raise the interest rates on your loan if they thought you might do anything to sabotage their reputation.”
“All I asked for was a ship,” Enedelia said.
“And a star to guide it by… I’ve been trying to familiarize myself with Earth
literature, since you’re my primary actor,” Bindler said.
“I don’t understand,” Enedelia said.
“I’m you’re agent, slash lawyer slash advocate with BioCorp, and I will be
helping negotiate contractual things that may arise, as well as ensuring that you get the best return for your efforts. For example, though the contract clearly stipulates the prices for all the activities you performed over the last month and a half, I was able to get you a bonus of six months off your contract based on the resources that you found.”
“I would have rather had a percentage, I think,” Enedelia said.
“That’s why I love you,” Bindler said, pinching her cheek. “You’re very smart.
BioCorp wouldn’t negotiate that point, but they did agree on the bonus. That’s the best I can do in such short notice, and I’m still waiting to hear from Thrifto, but I’m positive that will pay off.”
“I’m sorry, Bindler,” Enedelia said. “My anger is misplaced. Any dissatisfaction I have is with my-self for not doing more research before accepting the contract.”
“Don’t worry about it. Go and have yourself a nice meal, and relax. Maybe you
can make some new friends in the Pilot’s bar. They’re always happy to hear that a rooky made it. It improves their seniority,” Bindler said.
“I bet,” Enedelia said. “Oh. One of my Nest mates was Alexander, another from
Earth.”
“Yes,” Bindler said. “Alexander Kletsova. I’m acting as his parole officer. If you ask me, it was a miscarriage of justice, but I don’t make the policy.”
“Can you tell me about it?” Enedelia asked.
“No. Confidentiality and all. You’ll have to ask him,” Bindler said. “He has a
right to privacy, you know, and I’m obliged to look out for his well fare.”
“I understand that,” Enedelia said. “But has he returned?”
“Sadly, no,” Bindler said. “But wouldn’t it be wonderful if he did? Just think
about the odds. Two Earth pilots under my watch returning to Indigo Station. Go on, girl.
I need to meet another client. Call if you need me. For you, my implants are always on.”
He tapped his forehead and smiled at her before turning to leave.
Enedelia made it through customs without any issues and headed straight way
towards the Pilot’s bar. Thanks to her implants, she was able to access a station directory and follow a map that appeared directly in her head. Doors opened for her as she approached without any effort on her part. She remembered her first time on the station and how frustrated she was with the technology. Now she understood better than ever.
She stopped at a door that was familiar to her and turned away from her route. Before she even got to the cafeteria, she recognized the smell. She checked her internal chronometer, and was very hopeful she would find her two friends eating lunch. She walked around the cafeteria looking for the isolated two. She finally found them, but the reason she had had trouble was because of the crowd. It was so busy today that people had been forced to sit next to the Grays. They hovered over their food protectively, and growled as their table companions tormented them.
“Excuse me,” Enedelia said to one of the tormentors. “This is my table. And
you’re in my place.”
The creature laughed and spat food at her. “You no belong here, pilot. Push off!”
It turned back to its friends and they all laughed in chorus. It stopped laughing when Enedelia reached into its food, grabbed a hand full of something that felt and looked like mash potatoes, and patted it into its eyes. The creature stood up, and only then had Enedelia realized how rash she had just been. It stood up and it stood up. She might have not done this had she any idea that it was so tall. It screamed, and turned around, wiping its eyes. Silence reigned in on the cafeteria.
Suddenly realizing the danger, Jeden tossed its plate of food at a nearby table and yelled “Food fight!”
A thousand roars erupted, and a volley of food flowed back towards the tall
creature still getting the food out of its eye sockets. Jeden and Drie grabbed Enedelia’s hands and dragged her out of the cafeteria. They escaped with only food stains for all their trouble, but they didn’t stop running until they were in the market park. They hugged her like happy children.
“We didn’t recognize you in your uniform,” they said. “We’re sorry.”
“No worries,” she said. “It looked like you were preoccupied protecting your
food.”
“We thought we would never see you again,” Jeden said.
“Yeah, wish we could go with…”
Jeden hit Drie, and he shut up.
Enedelia acted as if she didn’t catch on, but motioned them to join her. “Come,
we’ll get ice cream. On me, this time.”
“Really?” Drie said.
“Really,” Enedelia said. “I didn’t realize how dangerous my job is.”
“All jobs dangerous. Space is dangerous. Moa is dangerous,” Drie said.
“So, jumping blind wouldn’t bother you?” Enedelia asked.
“No,” Jeden said. “Death is a part of life. It only matters how you live life. If we die tomorrow by the hands of Moa, we simply become one with the Mother of All.”
“How would you like to work for me?” Enedelia asked.
The two stopped. “For sure?” Drie asked.
“This is not funny,” Jeden said.
“I’m serious. I know you two wanted to contract out with a tourist ship, but that opportunity still hasn’t made itself open to you yet. I need help. Or companionship. If I can buy your contract from Rumble Wor, will you fly with me?” Enedelia asked.
“Yes,” they both said in unison.
Unbeknownst to them, Enedelia already had Bindler on the phone. Her implant
was the perfect, inconspicuous cell phone. And she loved it. “Bindler, you hear me?” she asked, all in her head. (Yes. What can I do for you?) “You said you want to keep me happy? (Of course. You name it, and if it’s in my power, you’ll have it.) “I want you to contact Rumble Wor and buy two of his workers for me. Their names are Jeden and
Drie.” (Serious? They’re just Grays.) “I don’t want to ever hear you say that again. Just Grays my ass. I will not tolerate racism. Or Specism whatever you call it up here. Jeden and Drie are my friends.” (Of course they are. I’m just saying that, well… They are kind of expensive. How about just one of them? And Grays are often considered to be
Albatross, if you understand my literary reference) “I need both of them.” (Stand by.
Okay. I can do it, but I’ll have to extend your contract to pull enough credits. Are you sure this is what you want?) “Yes. Oh, and while I got you online. I need a space suit so I can leave the ship sometimes.” (Suits are almost as expensive as the spaceships
themselves! That’s way beyond your credit limit. Now, I can get you a Shield Belt. That will provide you with an emergency energy field which will hold an atmosphere for twenty four hours, in the event your ship was to ever depressurize.) “Never mind. Do I have any credit left to buy supplies for the Grays.” (Sure. I’ll give them a reasonable credit limit and tie it to your account, that is, if you’re still sure you want to go through with this. You’ll take responsibility for their spending habits.) “I will. And Yes. Make this happen.” (Fine, it’s a done deal. They are now part of your crew, and you are responsible for them.)
Enedelia turned to her friends and now shipmates. “You guys are now officially
part of my crew.”
They jumped up and down and danced like very happy children. “Look, I want to
go meet some other pilots at the pilot bar and get some food. I set you two up with an account with some credit. Go and buy you some supplies, about three months worth. My ship is docked at ring three, red section, port seven.”
“Okay. We there. One hour good?” Drie asked.
“Yes. That will be fine. See you on board,” Enedelia said. She called her ship.
“Teacher, we’ll be having guests in a bout an hour. Jeden and Drie. Let them on board.”
“Grays?” Teacher asked.
“Yes. What’s wrong with that?” Enedelia asked.
“Nothing,” Teacher said, almost too quickly, as if she were hiding a bias. “They translated the black box. They know why the ship died.”
“Later, I’m starving,” Enedelia said.
The pilot’s bar wasn’t near as crowded as the general cafeteria, nor as bright. It was dim to the point of being dark, like a movie theatre right before the movie starts.
Indirect lighting touched points on the wall to reveal obscure art work, and illuminated tables lit the faces of the bar’s patrons. Large plate glass windows looked out into space, and the glittering junk that floated just beyond in the free floating cargo area. All the pilots took a moment to notice her, and did so in a fashion that made her aware that they knew that they had seen her. It gave her the creeps, but she found her way to a table.
A waitress approached Enedelia. She almost looked human, except for the color
and texture of her skin. She reminded her of a poison dart frog, with vibrant reds and purples. “What will it be?” she asked.
“Tacos and a coke,” Enedelia said.
“I don’t know tacos and I don’t know coke. You’re human, right? How about I
bring you something. If you don’t like it, don’t order it again,” she said, beginning to turn away.
“Um, excuse me,” Enedelia said. “Nothing alcoholic. I’m flying today.”
“Whatever,” the waitress said, and marched off.
Enedelia let a slow stream of air out of her mouth. She didn’t expect to be treated so rudely, but she didn’t feel like fighting back. She glanced over at one of the gentleman sitting at the table next to her. He was reading an electronic book that cast strange shadows on his face. He also had pointed ears, which reminded her of something her brother would watch. She contacted Teacher.
“Teacher, can you see what I see?” she asked.
(I can. Is there something specific you want me to comment on?)
“Is that a Vulcan?” Enedelia asked.
(No. It’s an elf.)
“There are elves?” Enedelia asked.
(I only see one in your present location. If you turn your head, I might be able to find another.)
“I meant, there are Elves in general? I mean, I thought they were just fictional beings,” Enedelia said.
(I believe you will find that most of Earth’s fictional works have some basis in reality. What’s more likely: that human created fictional stories of fantastical creature that just happen to cross your path, or the people you’re encountering were encountered once before which started a line of stories passed down generation after generation until the truth is so watered down that no one believes anything is real?)
“Is there something I can do for you, Teacher?” Enedelia asked.
(No, why do you ask?)
“Because the more we go on, the more your comments seem to border on the
sarcastic side. Of course, perhaps I’m just reading more into your tone than is warranted,”
Enedelia said.
(I apologize if I offended you.)
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon,” Endelia told her.
Across the room Kirk was sitting alone, drinking, and staring out the window.
Enedelia hopped up and ran over to greet him.
“Kirk! How are you?” Enedelia said.
He looked at her queerly. “What do you want?”
“I just wanted to see how my favorite clone was doing,” she said.
“Your statement presupposes that we’ve met before, which we haven’t, and I
disapprove of your using my clone status in such a derogatory manner,” Kirk said.
“I’m sorry. I meant it to be endearing,” she said.
“Again, I hear that you are using it in a familiar, humorous way, but I don’t know you, and even if I did, I resent the form it took,” Kirk said.
“You’re not Kirk 23 I take it,” Enedelia said, her shoulders slumping.
“I guess you just assume every Kirk clone is 23?” he asked.
Determined to not be deferred or dismissed, Enedelia sat down at his table
anyway. “Of course not. My bad. Excuse me. You seem to be a Kirk clone. What number are you?”
“I’m Kirk 4,” he responded. “Now that you know, you can push off.”
“You’re not drunk, are you?” Enedelia said.
“How can anyone on Indigo Station be drunk, when all addictive substances are
banned?” Kirk 4 asked.
“Good point. I hadn’t considered that. So, you’re sitting here wishing you were
drunk,” Enedelia said.
“I’ve already discussed matters with my therapy program this morning, I don’t
want or need another session, thank you very much,” Kirk 4 said.
The waitress placed a plate of food in front of Enedelia and then a drink.
“Enjoy,” she said, sounding as if she didn’t care.
“You stink!” Kirk 4 yelled at her.
“You get what you pay for, you clone want to be,” she yelled back.
“Is this place always so happy?” Enedelia asked.
Two people entered the bar and looked around. One noticed Enedelia, elbowed
his friend, and pointed her out. He nodded. Enedelia turned to Kirk.
“Did you see the two that just came in?” Enedelia asked, trying a portion of the meat. It was really good.
“No,” Kirk 4 lied.
“Well, they pointed at me,” Enedelia said.
“If I explain will you go away?” Kirk 4 asked.
“Maybe,” she said, cutting more of her food up. She flashed a pleasant smile at
Kirk. “I’m rather fond of your company.”
Kirk 4 frowned. “The reason every one has taken noticed of you is because you’re bad luck.”
“Bad luck?”
“On your first blind jump, you brought back news of a lost ship,” Kirk 4
explained. “That’s bad luck. You remind them of their mortality. You see, most pilots are very superstitious. They have built an extremely elaborate belief system which eases their minds about lost ships. They don’t want to learn that lost ships are smashed out there in space, no way to get home. They want to believe there is one magic Blind Jump that carries them off to Xanadu, or Brigadoon, where their debts are forgiven and they live in peace for the rest of eternity. Maybe some even jump outside the universe into a new,
more happier existence where the laws of Entropy and physics no longer apply. You, on the other hand, you brought them death.”
Enedelia swallowed, leaning closer and closer as Kirk’s voice got lower and
lower, till he finished in a whisper. She shook it off. “How did the ship die? Have you heard?”
“It’s all over the media. It came into normal space right smack in the middle of a Coronal Mass Ejection which super heated the ships surface and boiled it away,
destroying all the sensors, completely blinding the pilot. In addition, the pilot panicked, and didn’t disengage the sympathetic tactile sensation, so he responded as if he were on fire as well. Instead of activating his emergency scanners, he just assumed he was in the middle of a sun. Consequently, he didn’t see the asteroid that he collided with, and it sliced through the super heated skin like a knife through wet tissue paper, causing it to explode like a balloon, gutting it like a pumpkin.”
Enedelia was less hungry. She pushed the plate away.
“Hey, you through with this?” another Kirk sat down. “May I?”
“I came here for a break, not a party,” Kirk 4 said.
“Oh, hey, Kirk 4. I would have never guessed it was you with a girl at your table,”
the new Kirk said, elbowing the girl and winking at her. Then to her, he said: “By the way, I’m Kirk 37.”
“Enedelia, fifteen,” she said.
Kirk 37 laughed. Kirk 4 just shook his head.
“You’re not a clone,” Kirk 37 said, hitting her arm. “I saw your profile in the media. Welcome home.”
“Thank you,” Enedelia said.
Kirk 37 stood, raising his drink. “To the new pilot. May she always return.”
Kirk 4 immediately responded to the ritual, by emulating it. They both stood
there, until everyone in the bar stood, raising their drinks and repeating the words. Then they sat back down. Enedelia felt a little embarrassed. “It was just luck. I didn’t do anything to warrant that.”
“Just coming back warrants all that,” Kirk 37 said. “You should have gotten that complement as soon as you entered the bar.”
“I forget, how many Kirk clones are there?” Enedelia asked.
“More than there are stars in the sky,” Kirk 4 said.
Kirk 37 laughed. “And they said you were asleep when they passed out the
humor.”
Enedelia heard a beep in her head, signifying that Teacher wanted to speak with
her. She activated her internal communication device. (Our allotted docking time is about used up. If we stay much longer, Indigo Station will charge us ten thousand credits an hour.) “They charge us for that?” (They charge us for everything.) “Alright, I’m on my way.”
“Well, I enjoyed your company, but I need to be getting back to my ship,”
Enedelia said. “I hope to meet you again.”
“Hey,” Kirk 37 said, handing her a plastic card. “I’d like that. We’re having a
little re-union at Vertigo Station twelve days from now. This chip has the coordinates, and invitation. There will be lots of food.”
“You’re getting fat,” Kirk 4 said.
“Aren’t we all?” Kirk 37 asked.
“Thank you,” Enedelia said, pocketing the plastic card. She felt like a real human being now. “Thank you.”
Enedelia felt so good she wanted to do something kind for someone else. She
stopped at the bar to speak with the bar tender, and leaned over to make sure no one could hear but him. “Hey, that waitress that served me. She was really nice and helpful.
Would you give her five hundred credits for a tip, and charge it to my account.”
“Are you kidding me?” the bar tender asked.
“No kidding. She was extremely nice, and the food she brought me was excellent.
I can’t wait to come back again,” Endelia said.
“May you always return,” he said, humbly. “I will give her the tip.”
“Thank you,” Enedelia said.
Enedelia returned to the ship, thinking about what name to register it under.
Enedelia had to run back to the ship, and no sooner than she had boarded she was ordering the release of the docking clamps. She used conventional rocketry to thrust gently away. Indigo Tower gave her the departure vectors and then handed her over to STC, Space Traffic Control. There was still two and a half days left before she could use the QD for a Blind Jump, so STC was simply getting her out of the way to accommodate other traffic. She observed other ships coming and going, and others parked, waiting for their QD’s to finish charging. Once she was out of the high traffic area, and confident that everything was going along fine, she went in search of her ship mates. She found the two grays sitting at the table near the galley, a pile of stuff nearby. They were drinking from plastic cups.
“Hey,” she said.
They both dropped to their knees and bowed. “Thank you.”
“Oh, please, stop that,” Enedelia said. “Come on, I’ll show you your rooms.
There are two cabins on the port side. My quarters on the starboard side, and there is another small room next to that. There is a store room up there, which is rather spacious.
The lower store room is filled with potable water at the moment, behind that there is a fuel section, and then there is a small access to the engine room, where you will find an Auxiliary Power Unit, a small fusion reactor, the main fusion reactor, fuel cells, emergency batteries, and the Quantum Drive. Flight Deck is this level, far aft. Toilet slash lavatory is forwards. Why don’t you take this port room, Jeden, and you Drie, take this one, that way you’ll be next to each other.”
Their faces reflected sadness.
“What?” Enedelia asked.
“We would rather share a room, is that okay?” Jeden asked.
“Sure, but we have lots of space,” Enedelia said.
“No, we share,” Drie said, turning to the first room she had offered. The door
didn’t open.
“Teacher, fix the starboard quarters so it opens for them,” Enedelia said.
The door opened and they walked in. Like all the rooms, the lighting was
mysterious, and indirect, but it was there. The walls and ceiling were continuous, as if it were all of one piece, and rounded to reflect the curvature of the ship. Only the floor and the interior walls were flat. All and all, the room measured about fourteen feet by ten, with the highest ceiling point meeting the interior wall at ten feet. The Gray brothers marveled and looked to Enedelia.
“Are you sure this is our room?” Jeden asked.
“Yes,” Enedelia said.
Again they dropped to their knees and bowed.
“Would you two stop that,” Enedelia said.
“Please, you tell us our jobs. How do we best assist you?” Drie asked.
“I really hadn’t thought about it,” Enedelia said. “What would you like to do?”
“I can cook,” Drie said. “I can be fully responsible for your diet. You should limit your intake of that processed stuff.”
“My rations?” Enedelia asked.
“Yes. Eat rations sparingly. I make you fresh foods,” Drie said. “Fresh pizza.”
“Okay, but where are you going to get these fresh ingredients?” Enedelia asked.
“We bought supplies,” Jeden said. “With your permission, we would like to
decorate our room, make it optimum suitable for Grays, and humans. You may visit our room always.”
“Sure. Do whatever you like to your room,” Enedelia said.
The grays, a