New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!
Apollonia hated even looking at the place. She turned away, leaving the bridge. She didn’t know if she was allowed to do that – she was technically no one as far as the roles on the ship went. But it also meant she probably wasn’t bound to wait on the Captain’s every word.
It had been interesting to see the bridge of the ship. She had never actually been on one, and it had not disappointed. Standing up on the top disc, with the others below spreading out filled with officers all doing their jobs, it was even more impressive than the epic films she’d seen. The screens that made it look like they were surrounded by windows to space were amazing; she could not even tell them from reality.
But that station. When she looked at it, she felt something was wrong. She couldn’t possibly describe the feeling.
It was like looking at Ambassador Kell but . . . worse. That was probably unfair; the more she’d seen the being, the more she’d seen him in the human-like shape he had assumed, and less the shapeless mass that she knew he truly was.
Yeah, the station was worse. It was sickly. Not just unnatural, but with a tinge she felt as malevolence. She didn’t get that sense from the ambassador.
Someone came walking up behind her, and she hoped for a second it was Dr. Y. But no, they were not his precise steps, but rather heavy human steps.
She turned to see the cyborg first officer.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
It was the first time she’d really seen him up close – the first time she’d ever seen a cyborg at all, outside of film. In those, they’d always been . . . robotic. Everything she had expected of Dr. Y.
But like the doctor, this man seemed full of surprises.
His eyes were blue, bright and expressive. His mouth was covered by something that looked like a metal mask. Other mechanical parts crawled up the edges of his temple, looking like points where he could attach even more pieces. His hair was a pale blonde, almost white.
He was still waiting for an answer.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically. Where she had come from, you didn’t tell people if you felt bad. It was just a sign of weakness.
“You seemed very bothered,” the man said.
“I just think the place looks cursed,” she said, fighting back annoyance at his prying. “Like the Ambassador said.”
“Have I done something to offend you?” the cyborg asked. He looked slightly hurt.
She felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t really done anything to deserve her rudeness.
“No,” she admitted, looking away. “I’m just unpleasant, Mr . . .” She realized she didn’t actually know his name.
“Zachariah Urle,” the first mate replied. His eyes seemed to smile, even though his mouth was covered. “I am the ship’s Executive Commander – second in command after Captain-Mayor Brooks.”
“Oh,” she said. She hadn’t realized he was that important – she’d thought he was more like an assistant to the Captain. A walking note-taker. “I apologize, Executive Commander Urle.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “I understand that some of this stuff can be unsettling.” He waved for her to follow him, but did not head back onto the bridge. “It will be a little while before we are ready to transfer over to the station. In the meantime, I can help you get prepared for your first mission.”
“Mission?” she asked.
“Well, not technically a mission, but the Captain would like you to accompany him to the station.”
“Does he need a date that bad?” she asked.
Urle stopped and gave her a serious look.
“Sorry, sorry. Sardonic is just . . . my default.”
“Just try not to do it in front of others,” Urle said. Somehow, from him, it didn’t seem that chastising. He had an oddly kind personality. Warm, even.
She stopped next to him, and had the realization, too, that without all his metal hardware, he might even have been handsome.
“I’ll be good,” she said, immediately realizing how childish that sounded.
The man accepted it all the same, and continued down the hallway to a door. It opened obligingly for him, and she saw it was some kind of meeting room with a long table. As she went in, the door almost closed on her, and she smacked it.
“Stop it!” she snapped at the door. Seeing Urle’s stare, she elaborated. “The doors hate me. They keep trying to close on me.”
Urle’s eyebrows suggested a frown. “They usually detect a person’s system and don’t close on them, but it looks like it didn’t even know you were there . . .”
“I don’t have a system,” she said.
“Did they not have them on New Vitriol?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“They did – but they just don’t work for me.” She held up her hand, showing both sides, and its lack of even the most subtle neural implants or tattoos. “They all spazz out and shut down after a day or two. I use a tablet.” She fumbled into a pocket for it and brought it out to show him.
“Oh, I see,” Urle said. “May I?”
He took her tablet and pressed a finger to its interface port. The screen showed he was uploading something.
“Are your hands metal, too?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, not looking up from the tablet. “Forty percent of my body consists of augments or synthetic parts.”
“Did you get in an accident . . . ?” she asked, wondering what kind of injury could have forced him to have to get that much replaced.
He seemed to smile again. “No, it was nothing like that. I am simply a transhumanist – I chose to get these augments.”
Her eyes widened. That gave her a thousand questions, but she bit her tongue. She’d already insulted the man and the Captain, she should probably not pry into his personal life any more than she had to.
Or was it personal? Part of her wondered if this was the dark secret of the Sapient Union she had been thinking must exist. Maybe they forced some people to trade in their bodies for upgrades, to make them better workers and officers.
Maybe.
He gave her back her tablet. “It should be recognized by all the appropriate doors now. They won’t close on you again.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“I also set up a subscription to the ship’s newsletter, a handful of shipboard culture blogs, an app to let you view the menus of restaurants on the equator, and the game Callagh’s Tower – it’s very popular, and you can interact with your shipmates in a less stressful way in it, if you want.”
She felt stunned by that. “Thanks,” she said. The ship had a newsletter? And restaurants?
Apollonia had spent the last few days in her room, just trying to cope with the fact that she wasn’t in a cell anymore. She hadn’t had any idea that the ship had these sorts of amenities.
“Dr. Y sometimes overlooks that sort of thing – he accesses them all without a system,” the man continued. “But let’s get down to business.”
“Okay,” she said.
“You will be meeting with Doctor-” the man’s voice choked slightly, and he cleared his throat. There was a sound like static from his mouth. “Sorry, you will be meeting with the head of the facility in the Captain’s entourage.”
“I can do that. But if I may ask – why? Do I need to see another doctor? Because I like Dr. Y.”
“No, she- the head doctor has asked for you specifically. I am not sure why, but she can be a bit unclear sometimes. I am certain, though, that if she wants to meet you, it’s not a whim. There’s a good reason.”
That sounded very ominous to her. “Okay . . . Do I need to put on something more official?” She gestured to her outfit. It was clean, but was just an unadorned jumpsuit. They’d given her a dozen like them, all in the same dark gray color. She didn’t even have a pin like most people on the ship. They fit well, and were comfortable, but looked . . . plain.
“Your shipsuit is fine,” Urle said. “Preferably, call the doctor ‘madam director’, all right? Try not to speak unless spoken to, and don’t interrupt anyone.”
Her concern must have shown, but Urle seemed to do another smile with his eyebrows. “It’s not the end of the world if you mess up. You won’t get in trouble or anything – and I don’t mean to be rude. I just thought something of a protocol overview might help you feel more comfortable.”
“Okay,” she said. “So what’s the director’s name?”
Something went over Urle’s face. Lines tightened around his eyes. “Ah, excuse me – I’m needed elsewhere. Will you be all right waiting here until it’s time to disembark?”
“Uh, sure,” she said. The man’s entire demeanor had changed.
“If you want a snack or drink, there’s a machine over there that can help. Just be ready in twenty minutes.”
The man went out of the room. He was not walking as he had before, he seemed . . . stiff.
What the hell was that about? she wondered.
Other Terrestrial 