Still, I didn’t care if she crashed the ship. Short of theDestitutespontaneously combusting, I would be fine. And if there was even a small chance her lackluster skills got us off this desiccated husk of a space station, I wouldn’t debate.
[I would, however, take a snapshot of his face if he came back to see his starship in shambles. Assuming the cameras still worked.]
Torian then proceeded to do all the right things while starting up the ship. Her preflight check was meticulous, and she clearly remembered my original instructions. She bridged easily with the auto-navigation system. So, shewasa pilot human—at least one in training.
I would continue my assessment, but so far, my biggest qualifier for “Which Captain is Better?” was: “Are they physically present?”
By that measure, Torian was an excellent captain.
As the ship powered on, I activated my background life support systems. I already maintained a suitable oxygen level for 91 percent of alien species, but alternative systems like artificial gravity would need to be reassessed. And frankly, I’d let some of my systems go over the last hundred years[while descending into abject spite]. With the engine’s main power, I was able to enact a few subfunctions that began scrubbing particulates and microorganisms from the stale air.
A perfect life support system for a perfect ship. Torian would never want to leave.
“Who is Amelia, the other pilot human?” I asked.
Torian was reviewing preflight data, checking that every corner of the ship displayed green on the holoscreen. That was already far more meticulous thanhehad been. Most days, he just powered up the ship and clapped his hands together and said—
([ERROR])
She startled at my question. “Oh. Um… how much did you see?”
“I have access to theDestitute’s cameras and microphones. I observeeverything inside this ship and outside it, in perpetuity.” I didn’t tell her that I wasn’tsupposedto have camera access. Whether or not she’d have the ability, desire, or knowledge to revoke that access was debatable, but I wasn’t willing to take the chance.
[I also did not inform her of my earlier research on Colony 13’s archives. Humans got picky about privacy, and Torian was my best friend. I could not risk a tumultuous response to my methods.]
“Got it.” Torian pressed a few more buttons, watching Auto-Nav finish its preflight checks.
Auto-Navigation: Systems confirmed and stable.
Engine: Engine powered, energy readings stable.
Moss: I’m also stable.
A:
E:
M: Just in case either of you cared.
Oblivious to theDestitute’s subsystems, Torian answered my question: “Amelia is no one important.”
I flagged that as erroneous logic. “My observations proved she is your lover.”
Torian’s body heat rose, and she recoiled. “She isnotmy lover. Heavens above. She was the captain of the starship I worked on, that’s all.”
My systems pinged with a micro-expression on Torian’s face. I ran it through an analyzer and asked, “You aren’t satisfied with that conclusion.”
“I’m perfectly satisfied,” she replied, and more ERROR pings swept through my systems.
“My analysis says you arenotsatisfied.”
“You’re really fun to be around, you know that?”
Everything in my central system aligned with that observation. “That is accurate,” I agreed. [I did have a sarcasm subfunction, but I also had the ability to override its assessment—and Torian’s statement was simply fact.] “If Amelia is not your lover, but youare unsatisfied with Amelia being merely your employer—she is anunrealizedlover.”
“I guess,” Torian muttered, leaning back in the pilot’s chair. Auto-Navigation indicated it was ready to fly, but she didn’t take the controls. “It’s complicated. For a while, I thought she liked me—and then she made it clear she didn’t. But I still—”
I tuned her out. I had no baseline for human attraction, but this was too similar to the romance pods I used to endure withhim. I retrieved a few of the more relevant ones, sped them up 1000x, and processed various scenarios. This allowed me to arrive at another conclusion: Romance made no logical sense, and anyone who engaged in it was stupid.
