A Day off
20 Dec 2020Teafox
I had thought we were going to have a bigger argument, trying to get the kid through customs, but apparently it's not too uncommon for spacers to come aboard with unregistered minors seeking citizenship in the Alliance. I had to explain that the kid was effectively an orphan and that we had been unable to trace his biological parents. No, I am not an alliance citizen and no, I am not his legal guardian, but I am prepared to take that role whilst we stay on station... Permanently too, if it comes to it. No, neither of us are seeking work or sanctuary on the station. And, after a fingerprint, eye scan and blood sample we were ushered through the corridor into, well, it's like a doorway into another world compared to the rather spartan and industrial interior of the docking ring. Admittedly, a heavily armored doorway with carefully concealed explosive sniffers, but it's easy to not notice those.I have to admit, the magic of these areas has worn off on me a little. Sure, it's a beautifully crafted blend of nostalgia for the home of our species and all of the modern conveniences and means of encouraging visitors to part with their credits, but once you've been to five or six different stations? They start to get a bit samey. That's not to say that it was unpleasant at all, and honestly, seeing the kid confused and awestruck by seeing his first real tree, and the feeling of wind (even if it's artificial) did make me nostalgic for my first time.
The kid has a fun method of exploration. A guide drone kept trying to provide useful information about the area we were in, and the activities we might like to undertake. The kid listened to everything, considered the options and then immediately moved us on to another area to see what else was on offer. Eventually I felt as though I had to take pity on it and suggested that perhaps it would be nice to get out of our flight suits and into something more casual. Perhaps I'm just getting a little old, or perhaps I'm unused to walking in gravity for long distances, but I caught myself longing to ride the tram long before we arrived there. Local fashion is rather pleasantly muted, practical, easy to move in clothing with a few pockets. Not at all like the overly flamboyant casual wear that I saw on the last imperial leisure station I went to... Too many bits to get caught on every stray corner, or more often, passerby.
I understand they have some kind of traditionally styled earth bath-spa type of thing here. I'd have liked to try that, but nope, the kid was having none of that, it'd take too long and he was determined to discover -everything- this place had on offer. At very least, using real water to wash the dust out of your hair is always pleasant and it's good to see that the kid's injury is healing up nicely, even after my amateur first aid attempts. Clothing isn't something I'd considered he might struggle with. A Remlok suit has an automatic sealing system. Zippers and buttons aren't something the kid has ever had to contend with before. At first I felt it better that he struggle through and learn, but he was getting quite frustrated. In the end I relented, and the tailor machinery only needed a few moments to replace the offending mechanisms with the federation vogue of magnetic twist fastenings.
We explored, we rummaged, we found some interesting food which the kid didn't feel brave enough to try. We spent a little time on an artificial beach, which I was a little disappointed to find did not hold his attention so much... Personally, I still love building sand castles and not swimming very well in a low gravity, artificial sea. I should have guessed at what would catch the kid's interest.
CQC, in case it ceases to be a thing by the time something reads this, is short for "Close Quarters Combat", perhaps a misleading name for what is, in essence, a team based fighter combat sport. It's a quite popular spectacle, and, in essence, a cheaper to produce version of the sidewinder dogfights we saw back in Enayex. There is a professional league, in which seasoned fighter pilots compete, there are amateur leagues, where really anyone is welcome to try out their flying chops, and then there are casual games in which you just jump into a booth and fly with and against anyone else who happens to be ready to fly at the same time.
One of the biggest issues the kid complains about when flying either the Vagrant, or Vesper, is that they're bigger, bulkier ships which move and turns slowly. The ships you fly in CQC are little more than a virtual seat, strapped to a virtual engine with a big, virtual gun. The whole environment is computer generated, but the booths each pilot sits in is able to move in ways that simulate flying a fighter. Personally, I find it rather more natural to fly than using telepresence in a real fighter.
The kid insisted, so I humored him, a little one on one with the old-man. I figured, I'd go easy on him, let him get used to the controls, maybe give him a few pointers. I figured wrong. Honestly, it's hard to not have your ego bruised a bit by being ruined that hard by a first timer. To my credit, I did land a few hits and even a few kills, but for that, I had to use every dirty trick I could think of. In open space, the kid is an absolute terror in something so maneuverable. Some of the local hotshots took notice. At least in a 2 vs 2, I redeemed myself a little but to say he carried the team would be an understatement. The kid was hungry for a rematch, his opponents less so. I consoled him with two observations, firstly, the CQC semi-pro league is open to all fliers, you don't have to be a pilot's guild member, but there would be some paperwork required, so he'd need to keep up with his reading and writing practice.
I was surprised he didn't think of the second idea himself. We can always get a ship with a fighter bay. That put a smile back on his face, but he seemed a little distant, preoccupied.
We wandered around the district a little more, but the urge to explore had left him somewhat, then again, we were both getting tired. The sleeping quarters on offer here are kind of interesting, they run on one of the main station braces, so you can move closer or further away from the outer station hull, changing the effective gravity you feel. At first we tried it as high as it would go, which is admittedly only 0.4g, but I've grown used to micro gravity sleeping, and the kid hasn't known anything else, it seems. Not to mention, the view as you move upwards is spectacular.
The kid eventually let me in on what was bugging him. He enjoyed flying a fighter, but more than just having fun, it made him feel different, like something he should be able to feel more of. He couldn't describe it very well, trying to motion as he explained that it felt like the controls were in the way, that he shouldn't need to move his hands to move the ship at all or fire the guns or move faster or slower, it should just happen.
I hope I didn't let on how much hearing that bothers me. I think I know what he's describing and it chills me to think that there's a part of him that wants it to happen.
Doubt creeps into my mind at times like this. In a way, I know I'm pretending that the kid's human. Sure, artificially grown and all, quite obviously pre-programmed with a set of skills and abilities suited to what they had in mind for him. But does that extend to desires too? Is there a moral aspect to this in that I'm denying him a life I don't understand but one where he would find...? I don't even know what.
Then again, it's obvious he didn't choose this state of being. If the project continued, was this particular biomorph destined to be the end product? Or would his live be a short 'proof of concept' or test of some technology?
I have to force myself to take a step back. No, I can't help him down that path. All I can do is help him keep away from the people that would take his choices away from him.
It's not a comforting thought.