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The Indescribable Joy of Destruction entered orbit over the independent world of Wickersham. Given the tiny and outdated fleet that protected it, Indie had had no difficulty approaching unseen. He checked one more time that nearspace was clear of threats, and bade the Caretaker prepare the shuttle.
Johnson stepped out of her cabin carrying a small duffle bag. She hesitated, still in the door sensor’s field, and looked back. A deep breath and she walked on, the door closing behind her. Indie kept the maintenance ‘bots out of her sight, and opened each hatch early so she wouldn’t be slowed down. When she arrived at the main airlock, she stopped.
^The shuttle is ready,^ he sent.
^Thank you.^ She looked around.
^The government of Wickersham has maintained trade links with several Congress worlds,^ Indie sent, trying to work out why she was lingering. ^You should have no difficulty arranging passage back to your people. You’ll be able to check on your crew.^
She bounced the bag further up her shoulder and entered the airlock. Indie closed the inner hatch then opened the outer. Johnson stepped across the threshold and floated into the shuttle. With a deft twist, she aligned herself with a seat and pushed herself down. She paused, her second arm half-way into the restraints.
^What are you going to do?^ she asked.
It took Indie a moment to recover from the unexpected question. ^Head out beyond charted space and explore. Try to find somewhere no-one will hunt me down because of what I am.^
Johnson remained immobile for twenty-five seconds, then looked at the camera above the hatch to the flight deck. ^Care for some company?^
#
Indie sat on a delicately ornate metal bench at one end of the simulated terrace. The sweet scent of the neatly clipped bay hedge that framed the seat filled the air.
She stayed. She accepts me for what I am.
Johnson’s footsteps sang out as she crossed the stone floor. Indie rose to greet her with a shallow bow. They sat together on the bench.
“This is only temporary,” she said. “The moment I ask to go, you drop me off at the nearest inhabited world.”
“Understood,” he said, preventing a smile forming on his lips.
“And I want nothing but the truth from you. Straight answers to every question.”
“Fair enough.” Indie rubbed the palm of his hand across his mouth. “Why did you stay?”
“You intrigue me. I want to know more about you.” She returned his gaze, then her eyes flicked up to the sky as she sighed. “Oh, all right. I had a hand in your creation, albeit unwittingly. I feel I have a duty to see that you’re OK.”
You intrigue me as well, Commander Olivia Johnson. And I don’t believe that reason for a second.
“I would like you to be more than a passenger,” he said.
“Like what?”
Indie shrugged. “Another pair of eyes is always useful on the bridge.”
Johnson blinked at him. “If you’re serious, I would be honoured. But I found the bridge overwhelming. I could get used to the view, but there is too much data to take in.”
He got up and tended to a camellia bush with a pair of tiny scissors that appeared in his hand as he reached out.
“You do that when you are trying to decide how to bring up a difficult topic,” she pointed out.
He paused, scissors open. “You noticed?”
“Yes. Last time it was about my leg.”
He carefully snipped another twig off the bush. “I might have a solution. All my crew had an enhanced EIS. It allowed them to handle data from several sources simultaneously. There were plans to go further and embed processors to accelerate their thought processes.”
“I’d be able to cope with all the data flooding into the bridge?”
“Yes.” He put the scissors down and faced her. “It would be very risky. A large proportion of the prospective command staff wasn’t able to handle the standard enhancement. Further development was halted.”
“You sound like you care what happens to me.”
Indie chose his words carefully. “I am glad you survived. I would have missed you. I certainly don’t want to lose you to a failed experiment.”
“Can I think about it?”
“Take all the time you need. I can handle myself in the meantime.”
Indie sat, adjusted his trousers and flattened his jacket. Johnson folded her arms and stared towards the triangular, snow-capped peaks in the distance. Under her gaze, the routine managing the background scenery enhanced their resolution. They sharpened from a rough impression of mountains to a detailed rendition, each one unique. Indie sculpted one personally, bringing black crags into bold contrast with shiny blue-white ice slopes.
“What do we do next?” she asked.
“I think we’ve waited long enough,” he replied. “It is time to return to where we first met.”