Tacking into the wind
14 Mar 2024Ryuko Ntsikana
Tacking into the wind
Colonia Region
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The Vulture boasted a kitchenette, of sorts—a simple spot to squeeze in against the bulkhead unit housing the food processor. Drifting in the vastness of space, far from combat zones, I munched on a flavored nutrition bar, pondering my next move. Aby's voice echoed from the cockpit behind me through the opened hatch.
"A peculiar broad-spectrum message has been intercepted. It's addressed to whoever was in the Scarab at the bioresearch facility."
I couldn't stifle a chuckle. So they survived. "Go ahead and read it, but don’t transmit anything."
"The moon blinks back. Pinging the beacon."
I reclined as much as the cramped space allowed, already longing for the comfort of stretching out in my Python.
“I do not understand,” Aby confessed.
“It’s the language you were curious about earlier. They're issuing a simple warning. 'The moon blinks back' means to expect the unexpected. 'Pinging the beacon' is their way of asking who I am. Think of it like scanning a system’s navigational beacon for information. They're hoping I'll reply and give them not only the information they want but also my position.”
“So it's a trap then?”
I chuckled again. “In a roundabout way.”
“The last time there was communication between you two, what did that mean?”
I remained silent for a moment, weighing my options amid the chaos. They were risking my profit-making potential, and that pissed me off.
“I have it recorded if you need me to repeat it?”
I knew better by this point. Aby wasn’t going to let this go.
“I remember well enough. Consider this your first lesson. He transmitted to his wingmate, after I battered his shields with the plasma repeaters, to 'burp the rails,' indicating his wingman should use his railguns, that he was 'juggling plasma,' meaning he was task-saturated, probably dodging fire from other ships, who love to pounce on those who get too low to the surface.”
“Ah, I am beginning to see the idioms in use. Your reply sounded more cryptic, which, upon further analysis, aligns more with a cant than my prior conclusion of it being a pidgin.”
I took another bite of the nutrition bar, beginning to miss a real meal.
“Recite my entire reply, then think about it.”
“You transmitted that you’re 'navigating by the dark stars, burping the rails. Degauss, we are quantum entangled.'”
“Can you navigate by dark stars?”
“By the dead cores of past stars? It is a method used, also known as the neutron star highway, but I don’t think that's what you meant, or how he understood it.”
“You are correct. I was telling him that he was confused or in error by 'burping the rails.' Now, what is the purpose of degaussing?”
“To remove unwanted magnetism. Why do you ask?”
“I told him to degauss, meaning to remove his frustrations, to calm himself.”
Aby remained silent as I finished my meal in peace. Deciding on my next course of action, I secured the seat and stepped through the narrow hatch, settling back into the pilot’s seat.
“I think I have decrypted your reply.”
“Do tell,” I replied, bringing up the navigational display and plotting a course back to where my Python was stored.
“You told him he was in error for firing on you, that he needed to calm down, that you were kindred.”
“You got that part right. Now decipher this part. You know we are not kindred. What do you make of that?”
Aby pondered as I aligned the nose of the Vulture with our jump destination.
“Based on my experiences with you, and what you have said in the past, your reply was a ruse, to throw him off, even temporarily.”
A smile crept onto my face, hidden from Aby's view, as I engaged the jump engines.
***
Amatsuboshi A 2
I couldn’t help but smile as Aby darted to the Python, eager to connect to its larger database, along with that of the planetary outposts. His desire to learn the Lingua Franca of the region, where the old clan I once ran with called home, was his driving force. If he found their version of pirate cant interesting, then he would love the pidgin of the wider region. Not everyone was raised with the same primary first language, but everyone needed to communicate, and pidgin, or as some called it, sabir, was the historically proven go-to language.
Turning to look back at the Vulture, I walked up the entrance stairs of my Python. There was a time, long ago, when I would have found the confines of the Vulture satisfying, as long as it was mine. Part of me enjoyed reliving the old experience, but the older me had become accustomed to the larger accommodations my Python offered. While Aby did not verbally express an opinion on either, I knew from his mannerisms that it was his choice as well.
I knew that Aby did not have human emotions, but it was hard to shake the feeling that he was capable of them. His apprehension about being in the middle of a battle, his flinch when I fired the Scarab's plasma repeaters, and his restrained eagerness to get connected to a larger network of information—all hinted at a complexity beyond his programming. Well, he would have to pull his head out of his lower circuits, because the universe was neither fair nor kind, and with the leash loosened, I had far more planned.
No sooner had I boarded than a message came in that my special order was ready for pickup. My face scrunched up at that as I did an about-face, marching back to the Vulture. Aby could wait here, plugged into all the databases he could digest. I had no doubt there would be a rapid-fire stream of nonsense stuffing his storage units, but this time I would have some assistance.
***
Whirling Station, Ogmar System.
I was surprised to find no one tailing me on this visit as I stepped into the Android and robotics store. The raven-haired beauty from my last visit was absent, but the manager awaited, leading me into the back room where my new companion awaited. She sat in the chair, a curious look on her face as I examined her closely. She appeared human, with a subtle, pleasing scent of perfume.
"Do you know who I am?" I inquired.
She formed a quirky smile, perfectly human yet mischievously cocky. I found it appealing.
"Were you named, or have you chosen one for yourself?" she countered.
"I prefer Tara Sha," she said with that same cheeky smile. "It's a blend of Sanskrit and Akkadian, meaning Star Fox. Creative, much like your own Japanese-African name, Ryuko Ntsiikana, which translates to Dark or Shadow Dragon." Tara crossed her legs, studying me with narrowed eyes. "Do you have any less for me?"
"She has been given the instructions you requested, and all of her systems check out," the manager interjected proudly. I suspected his pride stemmed more from the ten million price tag and his commission.
If all the other requirements were executed as well as the one she currently demonstrated, then it would indeed be credits well spent.
"Well... Tara, let's get to it. We need to outfit you and arm you," I said.
"She will serve you well," the manager chimed in as Tara stood up, narrowing her eyes at him. "I see he didn't inform you of the obvious," Tara remarked. "But it takes me an hour to imprint myself with my owner."
"This isn’t my first spacewalk," I replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth as I extended my hand for Tara to take.
The manager beamed with pride as we exited his shop.