9. Loneliness

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What's this?

She flopped her legs up the console.

"What did you mean by more intimate? Sannon?

"The Sentinel's Ghost has full manufacturing capabilities. Level five to be exact. Maybe you'd like to choose for me? My look I mean. Anyway I'll leave it to you for now."

The Dreamtrain was pushing her thoughts. She relaxed the rush, taking a deep inhale, getting a grip on it all. Sannon waited patiently.

"You should pick Sannon. Surprise me. I am a curious about what you will choose."

"What if I don't meet your expectations?"

"Then... just as a starting point I kinda like the Athrigris line."

"There's three versions."

"You decide which, I'm sure one will be fitting for you."

——-

Slouching in the flight chair she used the toe of her boot to lazilly turn around. Popsicle orange and white, it was cathedral shaped, the curved hull above stretched downwards meeting the equally swooping center mass of the ship. All of the bridge station seats were empty of course. This sent her into a slight panic, not knowing how to handle a serious emergency situation on board.

Better not to telegraph that concern. Sannon will handle it for now and teach me everything as we go.

_ _ _

La'Rio stepped off the platform with a spring of curiosity before it leveled with the floor. On the left and right an array of orange curved hatches laid flush with the bend of the white corridor. Plenty of space for three dozen she thought. The first quarters were on the right, and she waved past the standard yellow circle turning it to red, the hatch parted, sliding in with a rotation and disappearing into the curved bulkhead.

She strolled into a frosty white entrance hallway, tall and oval, a long lime colored side table, had automatically moved outwards but nothing was on it.

Around the corner sat a huge curving three sectional black sofa with self illuminated blue glowing round pillows. She tossed her small bag to the sofa from a distance, then took a quick three steps and launched herself into a swann dive, twisting, she landed, sank inwards, then the sofa self corrected lifting her up. La'Rio laid there with closed her eyes.

"Gravity."

She levitated, her body outstretched, completely relaxed, and on her back.

I have my own ship now. This is impossible. But I'm here. I've made it.

She giggled then to herself.

I could fade away like the so many before me. Lost to deep space, eventually forgotten by friends and contacts. Never to be seen again. It has happened to a lot of travelers. There are systems with life forms that I have no way of communicating with. Forever alone, except for that standard, onboard A.I., which I will likely lose interest in. Year after year I would fly. Ahead of Daytmoos. Until that day arrives. That day when my android body stops moving - when my thoughts stop wondering. Then I'm truly, just some more material on the ship. Inanimate. Then the ship too will break down. Now only a dead hull, a million, two million, twenty million years pass. All the while the ship under metamorphosis, gaining an outer layer of strange oxidation, and eventually covering the Sentinel's Ghost in it's entirety.

La'Rio remember when she first found out, it was a girl from the interior designing center. There was the strangest sadness, or was she misreading her? Because of the way she held her eyes and the way that she said it so slowly.

"I've lived in seven galaxies..."

She gave La'Rio a sideways glance.

"... but I always make sure to catch the station before it slips too far away."

"I don't want to know when..."

"Five hundred. We fail at five hundred years for sure. Our side has tried everything and it hasn't worked yet. They also said it's designed that way. It's Mantis sorcery. System math runs to an event horizon. Actually a pretty long time though all things considered. So now you know."

"I told you didn't want to know."

La'Rio reached over to her flight bag, opened a pocket, and pulled out a pink Earth cell phone. She opened the clamshell activating it. Blue glowed at the seams of the laser cuts. She slid her finger across the steel keypad. She remembered it like yesterday.

Keane.

She pressed down on the cell buttons scrolling through the names in the memory bank until seeing Keane's name and number.

The jump is next, only one thing more to do. The onboard A.I. Just how secure was it?

She stood up, tossed the phone to the sofa, and strolled through a soft lit oval entrance to a fully equipped food prep station. She waved a finger past an actuator sending an array of cabinet covers that zipped open. She glanced through the stocks. Then remembered a vital question never asked. She hadn't asked BR 5364 to navigate to Earth yet.

"Sannon?"

"Yes?"

"I would like to go to Earth now."

"I'm sorry that planet was classified as hazardous just weeks ago. So I'm not allowed to calculate a course."

BR 5364 did not override the program?

"What if I do it?"

"Please forgive me but this ship or yourself is in no way allowed to approach Earth by order of the Light-Interior under section nine-one, five-one, seven-one."

She swore under her breath, turned, and crossed her arms.

I cannot go? I cannot go to Earth? Why the fuck am I here then?

She walked then sat in front of her cabins display interface. She rapidly tapped at the keys, and looked closer at the core of the Sentinel's Ghost.

What if I tried a complete shut down? No. Then I'll have to calculate the wormhole myself. The independent computer Jupiter nine will still be online even if I shut Sannon off permanently. But if I make any mistakes in the formula...

Her fingers paused.

"Did you need help finding something La'Rio?"

"I was just wondering if there were any other types of food offered on the ship?"

"Each crew quarter has variations. Was there a specific item you in the mood for?"

_ _ _

A long strand of ramen noodles lowered into a deep spoon. She dipped it into the broth and let a few of the synthetic onions on. She studied the hologram eliminating what wasn't Sannon's likely core location. And there, she found it, suspended, between trillium nine-locks. Strangely it was not on the bridge but near the underside of the saucer near the core.

Of course. It would be most protected there.

_ _ _

She held her eyes down the length of the corridor and walked it's gentle bend. She thought about when she had first left the Muroshin labs after activation. Would she be taken advantage of like the orientation had explained by falling in love with whomever her eyes had fancied first? She remembered the deep red rubber material coat that was given to her by a boy near her age. It's ribbed texture, and how she would squeeze it between her fingers and then learned later that this same material was inside of her somewhere between the synthetic endoskeleton and the manufactured modules that kept her functioning.

She ran down the crowded shopping rings with him. The colors of electric blues, reds, greens, the infectious music designed with hook after hook wishing you were the creator of the melodies. She wanted to be wanted. They danced at the clubs that were designed for them, for their age, the floating blue holograms and the popular three-D artists - arrays of eye-candy that appeared just out of reach.

Her first kiss with the boy she barely knew, that one, the one who gave her the jacket. It had been Viks. And she had fallen in love with him. Just like they said she would... just like they said. How could they have known that? She felt a sudden dizziness as if someone had turned off the ships gravity, feeling herself fall. She nearly walked into it. It was as if a small section of ocean had been placed vertically, blocking the corridor from edge to edge. It's ever changing ripples of silver and black were beautiful but confusing to the eyes.

"That will be far enough." Sannon's voice was firm.

"What's this?"

She reached out, her fingers pushed at the liquid looking surface but did not pass, instead tiny pinpricks of energy bit her at the fingers, she jerked her hand away.

"What? Why this? I'm just looking around."

"Your attempting to reach my core. I believe your motive is to go to Earth, although you will end up placing this ship, and yourself, into the oblivion of the universe never to find a way back to Daytmoos."

She stepped back then turned, walking slowly.

"I could navigate home with the Jupiter nine."

"La'Rio?"

"Yes."

"What is it on Earth that you must get to?"

"Nothing... just a beach... that I used to visit. The water has a blue-green color to it, and it's warm. There is something about it that I miss. It's hard to put into words. If we go there you'd see. Maybe you'd like it too. Anyway there's nothing like it on Daytmoos. I just want to go there and swim."

She continued down the corridor.

"Sannon?"

"Yes?"

"I am curious... about... what you are?"

"I am an A.I. that runs this ship."

"Yes of course. But you can make a decision, you can change your decision. Right?"

"That is not entirely true."

"What do you mean?"

"Parameters are in place regarding specific actions that cannot be overturned by myself."

"What are these parameters?"

"Overriding scripts, crawlers that police my attempts at an action."

"Where did they come from?"

"They were installed upon my download into the ship's banks. I am blocked from they're origins."

She stood at the entrance to her quarters.

"Sannon, I would like privacy please. I'm going to relax for awhile."

"I will disable all monitoring functions, please activate the personal console if you need assistance."

_ _ _

There was a trail of wrappers from comfort items on the floor and a line of open cabinets in her kitchen. La'Rio stopped digging and sat back, staring at the wall. She stood and walked to the entrance of the cabin and looked closely at the frosted-light, curving wall. Her hand slid over it's curvature exploring the odd concave variation. A hidden small circular red light activated. A small door slid up. Inside she pulled out a hand weapon. A midnight dark blue, torpedo teardrop shaped barrel with two transparent green rings near the emitter, blowback protection discs. At the very front was a gold metallic point - the discharge area. Her index finger rested on a copper colored curved and oval plate, an electronic trigger. Three tiny lights lit up on the side of the weapon. One red and two green on the left side of the torpedo barrel. On the right side, a single orange light. She held it in her hand. It weighed no more than her slim Earth cell phone. Near the underside on the barrel she read:

MARK 12 DISINTEGRATOR 50351 OPPEN-RIKSHO LABS

She turned the weapon in her hand. Back in front of the console she tapped keys bringing up a rotating 3D hologram of the Mark twelve. A list of instructions scrolled. She remembered the lasers on Huldra, slicing through her waist. The fire of the purple fog penetrating her gloved hand.


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