Robot Awareness: Special Edition Page 5

  “I need to be more careful.”

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

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

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

  “You’ll be fine. I think you know the seriousness of your mistake.”

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

  “Alright, time to take us in. Take the controls.”

  ***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "Joey?"

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

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

  “Oh.”

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

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

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

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

  ***

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

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

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

  Joey looked confused. “Flynn?”

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

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

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

  “Yes it was.”

  “Do they… speak common?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Robot is functionally fluent in 702 languages.”

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

  “Robot did not ‘learn’ them. Robot is programmed to acquire languages.”

  “What’s that mean?” Joey asked, perplexed.

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

  “Wow, you got all that, robot?”

  “Affirmative.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Chapter 4

  Isellia stood on the colony's dusty surface, her arms resting on a worn-out shovel stuck into the thick desert sand. Sweat glistened on her brow, soaked the front of her silver and pink jump suit. The wind brought some cool relief, blowing her pink bangs about her face. It would be some time before she could feel good again.

  Porter walked up behind her, his green shirt several shades darker with perspiration and a similar shovel slung over his shoulder. He thrust his shovel into the ground next to hers, leaning the weight of his large frame on it, driving it even further into the sand.

  "That's the last one," Porter said solemnly, after breaking a silence marked only by the wind.

  Isellia said nothing but nodded slightly, staring out toward the mounds of dirt and sand that covered what had been the rest of the their crew. A tear found its way down her right cheek, and was immediately brushed away as she blinked her eyes dry.

  They watched in silence as the sun cast long shadows over the freshly dug graves dug next to the crashed ship on the Company mining planet.

  Finally she looked at Porter, whose face scrunched up uncomfortably. It was something he did in solemn situations — Isellia had only seen it on a few occasions. If Porter no
ticed her look, he didn’t make any indication of it.

  "Now what do we do?" she asked, turning back toward the ready-made graves.

  "I don't know," Porter said, as sweat continued down his dark brow.

  In the distance, Porter noticed a young boy and what appeared to be a robot walking toward them.

  ***

  Joey needed little help from the robot, it turned out — other than perhaps someone or something to alleviate his boredom. The Sasugan station sent all the needed navigational coordinates to the ship’s computer, which displayed little yellow arrows to indicate his direction — they turned red if he veered off course.

  The ease at which the ship seemed to almost navigate itself led Joey to grow inattentive. Every so often he would catch himself day dreaming, but the memory of his recent mistake would startle him back into the present.

  But the sight of the Sasugan station, when it finally came into view, held Joey’s attention like nothing else could. As the ship grew closer, a tiny pinpoint of light expanded into a small sphere, which grew to fill the entire screen. Joey’s jaw went slack and his mouth strayed open as the dome grew larger and larger. Signs popped into view, advertisements for restaurants, bars and things he’d never heard of brightly filled the screen and were gone, announcing their presence in a flash. Each sign flashed in a language he couldn’t read briefly before fading into the common he was familiar with as the ship’s translator kicked in. A sign flashed briefly: a silhouetted female, wearing little clothing, against a bright pink backdrop. The lady danced in sultry gyrations before fading into an invitation before fading off screen, other flashing signs quick to take their place. Joey puzzled at the term gentlemen’s club, and what that had to do with a dancing woman.

  A never-ending swarm of satellites seemed to swarm the station, at varying speeds and intervals, some narrowly missing the ship as it approached the ever-expanding station.

  The buzz and activity was a shock for Joey, especially compared with the monotony of space travel thus far. But at the same time he was thrilled, his imagination piqued, and suddenly the thought of experiencing another species hit him in waves.

  “Wow, do you see that station, robot? It’s amazing!”

  “Robot’s sensors are functioning within normal parameters, and has no difficulties in visually detecting the station.”

  “Yeah, robot, but isn’t it the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen?”

  “Negative.”

  “Wha— what you mean?” Joey looked at the robot confusedly.

  “The station’s existence contra-indicates it being incredible. It is believable because it exists. Therefore, the station is not incredible.”

  Joey sighed, turning back once again to let his imagination explore. “Whatever, Robot.”

  The robot’s LED flashed its green glow a few times, but the robot said nothing.

  Past the advertisements, the equator of the giant orb appeared grey and dull, compared with light blue of its hemispheres. As the ship approached, the gray ring appeared to be subdivided, further subdividing into a series of ports, each with several landing pads that made themselves apparent the closer they got. By now, the arrows pointed to one particular landing pad, which appeared to have a series of entryways. As the ship neared, Joey guided the vessel along the yellow arrows.

  Joey felt a light jolt as suddenly the station’s guiding systems grabbed hold of the ship and guided it gently onto the pad. The landing gear, which caused all the contention only a short time ago, flawlessly snapped out form the bottom of the ship, and caught hold of the yellow landing pad floor, stopping the ship.

  Joey heard the ship’s intercom come to life. “Joey, great work,” Porter’s voice crackled over the intercom. “The docking bay crew will take care of the rest. Grab your stuff and meet us at the ship’s entrance. We’ll be leaving as soon as the airlock procedures are complete.”

  “Okay,” Joey said, grinning slightly as the ship started to conveyor into the station’s docking bay — but cold dread gripped him as he realized he’d have to face Isellia again.

  ***

  Joey trepidatiously stepped onto the grated metal floor leading to the docking bay. The robot walked behind him, keeping pace silently save for the metal clank of its pediatric units.

  Joey knew enough to be sheepish around Isellia — his mistake could have cost her life, something he could never replace, never work hard enough to make up for.

  And these two new boarders made him nervous. Rex was tall and lanky with a roughness about him. He hadn’t looked at Joey much, but the few times their eyes met it was like the man looked through him, like a laser searing his innards. Joey couldn’t explain it, but the man’s spirit was of one who’d seen and done some disturbing things. Things Joey couldn’t imagine, and wouldn’t have wanted to.

  Stephen had a similar effect in an opposite way. His own nervousness was pervasive — it spread to others around him an air of nerves like a contagion. He seemed loyal to Rex, yet was clearly not at all at ease in his presence — nor was he really at ease with himself, for that matter. He fidgeted, darted his eyes around the room and never quite seemed to settle in any way. If Rex was a poised cat, Stephen was a nervous chipmunk.

  Joey sighed and rounded the corner toward the waiting crew, somewhat wondering, as he did sometimes, what he’d gotten himself into.

  “Ready to see your first alien world, boy?” Porter said with a grin, his large arms folded in front of him. Rex, standing next to him and looking tense and relaxed at the same time, like a cat ready to pounce, seemed to almost grin

  Rex snorted, his gaze never leaving the door. Joey couldn’t tell at all what he was thinking.

  “Yeah,” Joey said, still somewhat unsure. He looked around — the mood of the crew seemed amiable enough.

  “Me…Me too!” Chimed in Stephen, excitedly yet at a low enough volume that Joey almost missed it. Rex snorted a “hmm,” which seemed to be more of an approval than a dismissal.

  Joey searched for Isellia, wondering if the prospect of getting off the ship eased her anger any, and saw to his surprise that she was staring right at him, as if waiting to say something. He looked away in surprise at her directness, then looked back briefly.

  “Nice job on the landing,” she said, giving him what seemed to be the slightest of a corner of a smile, before turning back to the door. Joey’s eyes went wide, as if he didn’t know whether to smile or gape. Rex snorted again, in what this time Joey was sure was bemusement.

  “That’s odd,” Porter said, frowning slightly. “They should have greeted us by now.”

  “Try the com,” Rex said in a raspy voice, hand almost moving imperceptibly toward his ROU.

  “Sasugan station, do you copy?” Porter said, looking at the rest of them while listening for a reply. “I repeat, do you copy?”

  The silence on the com was echoed by their own.

  “I’m releasing the hatch,” Porter said. He flipped a red switch embedded in a red metal casing on the side of the hatch, turned the knob which caused the poof sound of depressurization.

  The portal hatch opened to reveal a brightly-lit room with a stark white interior, crowded with boxes, crates with ship parts, tools lining the floor, an unmanned crate mover, still powered on, all the accoutrements one could imagine would line the floor of a spaceport. As Joey looked, he noticed another ship beyond the stacks of crates, one slightly larger than their own, and seemingly more sleek and better armed.

  And no Sasugans.

  “Now that is odd,” Porter said, his hand instinctively moving to a ready position above his ROU.

  “Very,” said Rex, his hand hovering less than an inch above his ROU. Isellia acted too, pulling out a small metal pipe which looked largely ineffectual, compared to the type:phaser weapons the others had. When Joey looked at the robot, it also held its ROU at the ready.

  “What’s going on?” Joey finally asked.

  “Sasugan protocol states that every ship be gree
ted by station personnel and inspected,” the robot answered. “Sasugans do not break protocol. Therefore situation equals not logical.”

  “You can say that again,” Porter said, looking around.

  “Sasugan protocol —“

  “But don’t!” Porter barked. As he turned to yell at the robot, a blue streak of light flashed by his head, briefly illuminating the entryway in a dull blue light before searing into the back of the entryway.

  ***

  Joey caught only a dazed glimpse of the action’s flurry before a hand pulled him hard to the floor — his mind barely had time to register the hard crash his knees and elbows made against a transport crate that left a black grease mark across the front of his shirt and bloodied his lip in a greasy-red smear.

  Joey shook his head, trying to regain his focus after the fall. He saw Isellia through blinking eyes as she crouched next to the crate, holding an ROU Joey hadn't realized she owned. He shook his head again, rising up on his hands and knees

  “Stay down!” Isellia yelled, pushing him with her free hand. Joey dropped immediately at the severity of her voice, a little more carefully than he had last time but every bit as quickly. Isellia never even looked at him as she crouched behind the crate. Red and green ROU fire — something like a cross between a beam and a pellet — strobed the cargo bay in flashes that were impressive and terrifying.

  Isellia poked her head above the crates as Joey first started to feel the bruise on his arm from landing, which would later give him a colorful reminder of the fall. An ROU blast scorched the air above their heads, deflecting off the ship’s hull behind them, searing a hole into a crate about ten feet from where they crouched.

  Isellia immediately sprang out over the crates, paying no mind to the flare as she fired shots over the top of the crate's metal surface. Isellia looked calm, focused — she had the look of someone who had done this before. He discovered a new-found respect and awe for the teenager.

  Isellia slammed her back behind the crate as soon as she fired her last shot. She let her head fall back against the metal container, checking the charge on her weapon and scanning her flank. Her scanning gaze met Joey's briefly, a quick evaluation, just one more piece of the equation as she calculated a way out of this mess.