“That is a good idea,” OS says. “I would have suggested it if you didn’t. Take twenty minutes to explore. Then I would like to brief you on the asteroid retrieval mission.”
I wish I could lie flat and wallow in the stars. But my sister’s voice drums in my mind:Prove to them all that they chose the right Cusk to rescue me. That it’s your abilities that got you on this mission, not just our name or our bond.
I begin wandering through the ship, seeing but not seeing each room, like when I’ve been scrolling through my bracelet for too long. Room 04 has a small white polycarb counter, a machine to heat food pouches, Rover tracks riddling every surface. There are two chairs, I guess so I can vary where I sit? There was only one chair in the mock-up back on Earth.
Then I realize: that extra chair is for Minerva. Minerva alive, Minerva returned. I run my knuckles along its edge.
Room 03 is a pair of bunks, one made up with blue sheets and a small pillow. Rooms 02 and 01 are storage. The floor is higher here, so I have to take a big step up to get in. A thick rubber mat sighs under my feet. I peel up the corner. It’s as we planned: like in a submarine, the floor is composed of layers and layers of food. Clear polycarb bags, labels like tofu curry and roasted eggplant. I’ll eat my way to the bottom as the voyage progresses. Roasted eggplant—yum. I’ll be looking forward to that one. No lie.
Room 00 is at the center of the living quarters. The wall at the edges of this room has been molded to a circular ramp, leading up to a hatch. TheEndeavor—or “Coordinated”Endeavor, as the OS has decided to call it—was designed as a sort of lollipop, with the living quarters on one end counterweighted by the machinery and inaccessible storage that make up the other side. Its rotation is just the right speed to exert the same amount of force on theliving quarters as Earth’s gravity would.
As I near the rotation point, the forces lessen. My body becomes lighter even with the few feet I’ve risen. My hands float.
There are two portals up here. There shouldn’t be two portals up here.
One of the doors is yellow and the other is bright orange. Yellow leads to the engine room, but I could swear there was no orange door on the model I practiced in. I know from training that there’s a matching gray door on the exterior of the ship—it leads to gear I’ll need once I arrive on Titan. There’s a single-body mortuary in there, in case Minerva’s story has a bad end. But there’s not supposed to be any orange door.
It’s like the ship glitched, produced an accidental portal. But reality doesn’t glitch... right? I shake my head. “Where does this door lead, OS?” I ask.
“The yellow door? It leads to the engine room. I will open it only when you need to make necessary ship repairs.”
“Yes, I know,” I snap. “I’m asking about the orange door.”
There is no answer.
“I asked you to open all the portals on board.”
“You did,” OS answers.
“Open this orange door.”
“I have noted your desire,” OS says in my mother’s voice.
The door remains shut.
My skin pricks. “Open it now, OS.”
“I cannot do that without reciprocal permission.”
I nervously whisk my hands over my hair, feel the capillaries pulsing under my scalp. I understand OS’s words, but all the same I can’t make any sense of them. “What the hell are you talking about? Reciprocal permission fromwhom?”
“From the Dimokratía spacefarer,” OS answers.
I hear the hum of the ship all over again. It breaks over me, stops time for long seconds while my skin crawls.
“OS,” I say slowly, “are you telling me that I’m not alone on this ship?”
“That is correct,” my mother’s voice says. “You are not alone on this ship.”
_-* Tasks Remaining: 342 *-_
Much of my time at the Cusk Academy was spent programming AIs, and one thing I learned early on was that emotional concerns only hurt a human’s bargaining position. If I’m suddenly feeling out of my element, it’s best to shut the hell up. Not a bad rule for interacting with organic intelligences, come to think of it.
Coma, damages, and now someone else on my ship. None of this is right.
I drill my attention into the portal. Somewhere on the other side of this orange door is a stranger, hurtling with me through space. Fear sets my knees jiggling, shaking the fabric of my suit.
I want to bang my fists on that orange portal.
