“Yeah. Sure.”
“I have been sent by Warlord Mekkra to help you get settled in your new home. First, can you tell me what you’d like me to call you? Do you have a name?” He hovers closer, body doing the actual moving while the head drags along until he snaps upright again.
“My name is…”
Blank. Utter blank.
The Deenz never used our names—just “human,” “bubble dancer,” or worse. I blink a few times before feeling the memory of who I am blooming on the tip of my tongue.
“M-Mae. My name is Mae.”
“Hi, Mae! My model is Starcroft Synthetic Crewmate Version 44852165970, but feel free to call me something else if you?—”
“Nope,” I cut in. “Starcroft is good.”
“Oh, delightful! A nickname! Friendship indicators are rising!” He makes a noise that Ithinkis laughter. “How are you finding the station?” he asks brightly, as if I’m a tourist who just stepped off a cruise liner.
“Well,” I say, deadpan, “I’ve just been sold, so that’s not great. And your Warlord Mekkra seems awful—but hey, at least he hasn’t raped me yet, right?”
My snark shields are obviously at full defensive capacity.
Starcroft’s eye screens droop into a cartoon frown.
“Warlord Mekkra would not rape you. That is against his species' code. But I understand that a new owner is stressful. I have been resold severaltimes—it is difficult to predict new expectations. I do not care for uncertainty.”
“I’m not a robot,” I say flatly, though the relief is real enough to sting. “But thanks for the heads-up.”
“Oh! I apologize if I missed the nuance. Probably a programming limit. In any case, Warlord Mekkra sent me with today’s expectations. Shall we review them now?”
I wince a little. Must still suck being intelligent and owned, even if you’re metal.
“Can I say no and you help me escape?” I ask.
His eyes blink twice…then go totally blank.
“Blocked command. Does not compute. Please troubleshoot with admin.”
Then he snaps back to happiness.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that! Let’s go over the expectations for today!”
“Oooookay.” I sigh and slide off the bed, following him.
“Warlord Mekkra has prepared a dinner for your arrival. You are to wash and dress in the provided clothing.” Starcroft flies over to a panel in the wall and opens what turns out to be a built-in wardrobe. A metal grabber arm shoots out from his body orb and snags something long, sheer, and dark blue.
“Then I am to escort you to the dining hall. Doesn’t that sound fun?” he asks with the bright cheer of someone who has never once been in any kind of mortal danger.
“Bathing and clean clothes? Amazing. Spending time with that bastard? Hard pass.” I finger the whisper-thin gown.
“Well, let’s start with the first two, shall we?” Starcroft deposits the dress into my hands and zipstoward a door I hadn’t noticed before. Steam billows out in thick waves.
I follow him and wave my hand in front of my face, trying to banish some of the hot opaque mists to see what this new room holds.
The bathroom is drenched in red light, black tiles gleaming like wet obsidian. In the center sits a huge, bubbling pool of warm water.
“Is that a bathtub?” I whisper, breathless. The Deenz just sprayed us down with a bitter smelling disinfectant foam if we got grimy enough to warrant the expense. My bones ache at the thought of resting in the warm waters.
“Yes—bathing pool,” Starcroft says. “I have adjusted the temperature to your species’ tolerances, but please?—”
