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The watch after Darkeve was, in Urle’s opinion, the most boring.
The partying lasted a good twenty-four to thirty hours, but even the most energetic of the revellers began to grow weary after that.
Then was the time of thousands of drones cleaning up and lonely watches.
And nine months after that, he thought in slight amusement, a baby boom. Happened every year.
They had only twelve on the command deck right now, the bare minimum.
The ship was as safe as could be; they were alone, deep in space well within Union territory. There were no known objects flying through this sector. Even the light of their presence was years away from any outposts or ships.
So it was almost just a formality to have anyone on duty, he thought. The ship’s AIs were more than capable of running unsupervised for a time.
Not that he was complaining. This was his chosen path, and people were out here because they wanted to be. It would be easy to send out probes, to sit back in one’s home system, and never see things with your own eyes or experience them.
But the same could be said of almost everything. You could let all your art and stories be written by AI, let them make your food, let them control everything.
But what would be the point of living, then?
People would just let themselves be fully replaced.
He sighed, shifting in his seat. The quiet hours left a lot of time for contemplation.
The command center doors opened, startling him. His system normally informed him of anyone who was approaching this area.
Kell came in, and he relaxed somewhat. His diplomatic credentials were one possible reason for the lack of warning.
But Urle found that he could not relax as much as he’d like; Kell’s presence seemed more over-bearing than usual, and his real skin crawled as the being approached, as if a sphere of his disturbing presence was washing over him.
Maybe that was how it worked, he thought. Aside from the purely-subjective feel of it, it didn’t show up on scanners, not even their most sensitive krahteon arrays.
“Good evening, Ambassador,” he said. “What has you up at this hour?”
“The ship is quieter,” Kell replied. He did not look at Urle, but stepped up next to the command chair, looking out at the screens that showed blank space around them.
“Yeah, the party has finally died down. Now it’s peaceful.”
Urle followed Kell’s gaze, looking out at space. “Not much around us to see right now.”
“I do like seeing the stars in novel arrangements,” Kell said.
“I guess you must be pretty used to Earth’s skies,” Urle noted. “You know there’s not as much variation in color as you might expect in the skies of Earth-like worlds. Most of the times the sky is still just blue. It can be other colors with a lot of dust or a less Earth-like atmosphere, but that’s not as common as you might think . . .”
“Mm,” Kell replied.
Urle let the topic drop.
“Did you read the information packet we sent you about the holiday?” he asked.
“Yes,” Kell said.
“What do you make of it?”
“The idea of warding off evil spirits is not a new concept for your kind,” Kell replied. “But at best it is merely an attempt to bring order and some measure of control to a universe you have no sway over.”
Urle could see the truth in that. “It’s more just a cultural tradition at this point. We do enjoy a reason to celebrate.”
“Perhaps the wrong way to go,” Kell said. “You are not wrong to fear the dark.”
Urle was finding that he really resented Kell’s attitude sometimes. He took a moment to let the annoyance fade before he spoke again.
“Do your people have any holidays? Special times? Shoggoths, that is.” Not . . . whatever this sort of meat puppet was. He could still recall, with some horror, how Kell had told him that this body was merely a marionette, controlled by the true being that he had never actually met. That was, Kell had said, something beyond them.
“No,” Kell replied, taking a long time in answering.
Of course not, Urle thought.
“I’m surprised I didn’t see you out there today,” he said.
Kell looked down at him. “You did.”
Urle paused. Kell could look different at will; it was something he’d seen with his own eyes, even if he could not really explain it. The sheer amount of energy needed to rearrange the cells in a body alone would be huge.
Yet Kell’s body always looked, if anything, cold in infrared.
“Did you wear a costume?”
Kell’s look turned to that look he so often wore; a sort of steady disappointment mixed with superiority.
“This is my costume,” Kell replied.
Urle felt himself shudder slightly, and he looked away.
Kell kept standing there for a long time, merely staring out into the darkness.
Urle felt like he, personally, did not have to look far to find it.
FINIS
Other Terrestrial 