surprised despite himself.
Kira quirked his lips, “You’re from Earth, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Even pirates once had homes.”
Iguru ignored his pounding heart.
“You look like you’re from Earth,” Kira tilted his head, “and you smell like dirt.”
Iguru’s eyebrows flew up.
Kira’s laughed, small and short, “Well, you don’t smell very complimentary at the moment and a shower will do wonders for that…but what I meant is that you smell like nature. People who are born in space have a certain mechanical tang to them. That’s what happens when you’re not able to touch real soil or splash in puddles or breathe fresh air. Your skin, however, reeks of earth. Your cheeks are sun kissed.”
Iguru hadn’t had any of that in a while, that real soil or whatever he was talking about. But he liked the scent of computer wire and grease just fine. He enjoyed the cold fear that sparked in his body every time he looked out a window and saw nothing but blackness surrounding him.
“That’s very poetic,” he said instead with a scornful lilt to his voice.
Kira nodded as if agreeing with him.
Iguru narrowed his eyes and studied his host as he continued to eat. Poetic nonsense it might have been, but it was unerringly accurate. He would suspect Kira of having a file on him, except there was no file. Iguru constantly made sure of that.
Could he really have guessed he was from Earth just by smelling him? The Earth left no permanent marks upon one’s person. The thought was ridiculous. Unless there is something deep in my skin, left over from a planet-side childhood. He knew of no computer that had been programmed to detect and analyze such things. Android! his mind repeated and suddenly the room around him seemed too close and Kira too near. This is a rather advanced house. Who is to say the host isn’t an advanced form of technology as well?
The butler came by to pour Kira a drink and watching the both of them, it wasn’t terribly obvious which one was human and which one was machine. For all he knew, they both could be robots. He could be surrounded by machines and not even know it. He pushed his plate away, his stomach roiling.
“You don’t like the food?” Kira asked.
“Was it prepared by your android butler?”
The venom in his voice was strong, strong enough to cover the shaking. Get yourself under control.
“Is it really obvious he’s an android?”
“No,” he answered honestly, “androids don’t look that different from humans. But they’re very routine. Not much creativity.”
“Oh. You’re referring to his mannerisms, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t feel his breath or body heat. His steps were rather exact.”
“You’re very observational. Detailed. Computer-like. Are you sure you’re not an android?”
He jerked in his seat.
“Don’t insult me.”
“It was said in jest.”
“Was it?”
Kira studied his drink, something dark and fruity, “Androids don’t suit your palate then?”
Iguru stilled, “Androids don’t bother me in the least.”
“Of course not. Why fear androids when you can fear their creators?”
“You are assuming I feel fear.”
“Revulsion, then?”
“Nothing.”
“Indeed?” Kira languidly popped a small piece of cheese into his mouth.
Iguru said nothing in return, his palms itching.
Kira suddenly stood up, wiping his hands on a napkin, “You know, I find human brains and computers startlingly alike.”
Iguru watched his movements cautiously, “I suppose it would not stress credulity to assume that machines would in some ways mirror their creators. But they could never surpass what has made them.”
“But at what point is the imitation so good that it ceases to matter if it is original or not?”
“Androids are not humans. They are merely creations.”
“Children are creations.”
“Biological creations. Androids are technological.”
“And that makes a difference?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm,” Kira said, as if considering his argument, while not really considering it at all.
The food remained unfinished, as Iguru was not touching it regardless of whether he recognized it or not, and Kira abruptly said, “Would you like to see my spacecraft collection?”
Iguru eyed him shrewdly, but could not determine the reasoning behind his offer. Kira was a talky type, but he had left Iguru alive and unharmed thus far; he doubted Kira would finally now be leading him to his death. He obviously wanted something from him. Cooperation, his words said, but his tone implied something different. Something lonelier.
Iguru wanted to put a galaxy between him and this…thing, but Ananke was waiting for him. She’d been waiting for nine years. A talky android wouldn’t be his downfall. Not like last time.
So Iguru said, “I highly doubt your collection is impressive enough to warrant much merit.”
Kira smiled and heard the acquiescence, “Then let me change your mind, Mr. Halk.”
Iguru had assumed that Kira would store his ships in chips or a database and only materialize them in a hangar when he needed to. Instead, he brought Iguru to a large chamber that would make any museum green with envy. Perhaps Kira had even stolen from museums: early vessels from the now defunct powers of America and the Soviet Union should be well-persevered in a museum somewhere, not sitting in a large containment field in a vast underground warehouse. But here they were.
They must have gone deep into the planet’s crust, as levels and staircases zigzagged upwards and downwards and teleportation hoops took them from one place to the next – moving them forwards through space-faring technology. Ancient rockets gave way to complex military ships and civilian yachts. It was odd to stand next to these huge metal beasts and see them so anchored by gravity. Kira glided him through the exhibits and at the very end of this vast collection sat an empty pad with a placard reading Ananke.
“Your collection is…impressive,” Iguru said, “if a bit unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?”
“All these ships and no one to fly them.”
Kira laughed, unexpectedly loud and uncontrolled, “You may have been born on the Earth, but you truly do belong in space!”
He smiled at Iguru and had the audacity to slip an arm through his. Iguru tensed, alarm bells going off in his head, but the softness of the touch stalled something in him. He clamped down on his instinct to yank on the arm, bend it behind Kira’s back, and break the bone. Instead, he allowed himself to be maneuvered. Acquiescence was for the best so early in the game.
Search Request
Databases: EIF.Criminal.Records; Terran.Boesian.Social.Network.Platform; Terran.News.Collection.
Search results: 0. Time: .057 seconds.
Top answer: ‘Kira’ did not result in any significant matches. (Police records: 0 matches. Social profiles: 0 matches. News reports: 0 matches).
Ananke became the next exhibit in Kira’s museum and the hacking of her systems would begin. She was heavily protected, Iguru had tried a hand at unraveling her secrets and hadn’t gotten very far. He couldn’t estimate how long it would take to sneak through her code. Of course, that’s what Kira was here for. Normally he never liked to sniff around his employer’s spoils for too long (as it was generally hazardous to his health), but this case was different. Nine years ago, Ananke had been destined to be Iguru’s. It remained to be seen what she could do for him now.
Currently, Iguru focused on repairs for The Naked Rose, the ship that had been his safe harbor and getaway vehicle from the moment he had become a pirate and outlaw. Kira had left him hours ago; the butler was his constant onlooker and Iguru resigned himself to having a babysitter.
Ignoring the robotic stare, he proceeded to check over his pride and joy, running diagnostic
scans while also opening compartments and panels. He liked to check everything by hand when he had the time. It was unlikely any EIF officers would chase him out this far, but Investigator Rog had an uncanny ability to predict his actions, so he tried to move on from place to place as quickly and stealthily as possible. His ship, however, had suffered.
He checked the control box and heaters, noting that he’d have to get replacements soon. He repaired cracks and replaced bolts and gave the counters and controls a good wipe-down. There was no sense of time in the bay, where he was surrounded by metal walls and bright work lights. He was surprised when the butler announced it was late.
“The sun will be rising in 3.2 hours,” the butler said, startling him.
He had almost forgotten the butler was there. Did he never sleep? Or recharge, whatever it was androids did?
“Let me show you to your accommodations.”
“I’ll sleep in my ship.”
The butler blinked very slowly, an uncanny reaction, but let him be.
Search Request
Database: Map.Docks.Orion.Arm
Search results: 0. Time: 0.035 seconds
Top answer: ‘Safety’ is not a registered space port or dock.
Iguru spent the night holed up in his tiny cabin, with a bed that had memorized his shape over the years. He did not sleep easily. For the entire night he treaded the line of consciousness and his few dreams were blurred and left him in a sweat. He woke far too early, to a butler who was standing outside his ship as if he had not left.
“It is good you are awake sir. My master offers you breakfast with a sunrise view.”
Iguru glanced over at his ship, where a stash of old rations waited to satiate