Even in a controlled, sterile environment, the sight of a sentient being attached to a med-station was unnerving. The image of all those wires and tubes and fluids connecting with and passing into flesh, however damaged and dependent, did not sit well with most observers. It simply added to their general unease over the knowledge of their true lack of control over life and of the certainty of their own mortality. With all those assistive measures, was the machine an extension of the man or the man an extension of the machine?
For Budo, as she busily monitored and adjusted the med-station’s controls, the question was irrelevant. As a synthoid, she was both, and beholden to neither. She did not fuss over questions of control or mortality. One was fact and the other inevitability. And neither was going to help her friend heal any time soon.
Feld stirred then and Budo looked down at him with her electro-luminescent blue eyes. For a second, they glowed brightly, hopefully, then died back down to a dull slate when he remained unconscious. She reached out then and, leaving other non-essential processes to idle in her memories, brushed a lock of overly long hair off his forehead. She had always hated the Rinskii cut. Now, she didn’t mind as much. She’d cut it to something she preferred later, after the usual banter, when he was back to his impetuous self.
After making sure the med-station was working properly, as properly as salvaged black market parts were supposed to operate, she left the room and rejoined the others in the bar, the primary lounge of the surgically-terraformed rogue asteroid known to some as Barscape Prime.
Budo found the air in the bar thick with tension and the scent of burning herbs. In the center of the bar floor, where a large games table had once stood, was a smoking brazier and the prostrate form of Sondra Thirdmoon, one of the two mysterious visitors who brought their broken friend home, lying backward on the floor with her knees and legs splayed awkwardly underneath. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth formed soundless words. Sitting in plush wing chairs around her were two ‘Scaper women, Bern Starshine and Ebony, aliases of course, and a third, mysteriously cloaked figure, the second visitor, a woman if the draping form of the enfolding cloak provided any useful hints. Bern’s facial expressions betrayed her thoughts concerning the visitors by shifting from curiosity over the prone form of Sonda, to concern to anger at the cloaked figure in the chair facing her, and back again. Ebony, with her outwardly mature demeanor, sat in a chair next to her, calmly knitting some fabric swatches into a quilt, though her fingers weren’t as deft as they usually were.
Just outside the main scene, in glowering overwatch, was CalamityJacq, aka CJ, a muscular, buxom Sebacean ex-Peacekeeper who stood poised nearer the cloaked figure and who kept her right hand near her holstered blaster and her left hand spinning a Deluvian Spike, a nano-dart launcher. At the bar proper situated at the edge of the expansive room were two more Barscaper women, Cel and Lippy, the former perched on a stool at the furthest end, silent and reserving judgement, and the latter at her usual place behind the bar, a seemingly young woman of indeterminate age whose past had somehow remained a mystery to everyone who passed through Barscape Prime. All anyone knew of Lippy was that she had always been here and would somehow always here, even when away for reasons unknown.
CJ posed the question that was foremost in the ‘Scaper’s minds. “How is he, Budo? Will he live?” Her voice contained a mix of sorrowful concern and the promise of violence should the answer not be to her liking. Budo was concerned but not for herself, as CJ’s gaze never left the cloaked figure seated nearby. Like a panther, she stood with a disguised ease, her most dangerous posture.
“It is likely, but not certain,” Budo replied. Sending a nod of thanks toward Lippy, she continued, “It would have been hopeless without our recent acquisitions.”
Lippy returned the nod. “It was only a matter of time before we’d need a med-station. Trouble seems to follow us like a shadow.” Gesturing toward their visitors, she asked, “So, what do we do with our guests?”
The whirling weapon spinning around CH’s digits paused as if frozen in time, then continued in its convolutions. “It all depends on what Mirage finds out. Until then, we can always lock them away somewhere. Maybe the Freezer…”
“CJ!” Bern shouted as the others turned their heads in CJ’s direction, “You can’t do that!”
“The frell I can’t!” CJ said angrily, with more emotion than logic, as she gripped the Spike forcefully. “Feld’s injured, maybe dying. Solara’s missing. And all we have are these two mysterious strangers with a highly dubious story. Frell, for all we know, they may be the reason behind Vicki’s disappearance as well.” In a blink, CJ’s stance transformed from an easy wariness to a cocked weapon. “I want answers, by gawd, and I want them now!”
The room was silent, still. All eyes were on CJ. As the tension continued to rise, Mirage’s synthesized voice came over the comm system. “Lippy. Set the vidscreens to channel 7.”
No one moved.
“Hello? Lippy? You there? Channel 7, please. I think you all’ll find this quite interesting.”
“Sure thing, luv.” Lippy flicked the glassy surface of the nearest datapad and the vidscreens around the bar snapped to life. On each, an interstellar newsfeed showed a modern city in its death throes. Amid the chaos, law enforcement aircars flew and crashed around the city. A voiceover described the scene, “Law enforcement has completely broken down. Many buildings are in flames. Both Protean orbital defense cruisers have been destroyed by an unknown source. In response to the cruisers’ destruction, a land-based fighter squadron flew in low beneath the power screen that has covered the city in an attempt to take out the source of the rebellion’s destructive power. An amateur video capture taken from just inside the shield…” the vidscreen changes… “shows a battered airbulance racing outside the shield. Sources have confirmed that this airbulance was commandeered by persons unknown on the ground. Later, a class-P custom spacecraft was seen leaving an abandoned cargo spaceport on the outskirts of Dinara City. Without the cruisers on station, the spacecraft was able to elude authorities and escape to destinations unknown. While the identities of the person or persons involved are unknown, it has been speculated that these were agents-provacateurs who are ultimately responsible for the sudden uprising and destruction seen here today. Throughout…”
The vidscreen abruptly went black. “It just goes on and on from there,” Mirage explained. “I’ll keep scanning the various feeds and let you all know if something new turns up.”
“Dayum,” CJ exhaled as she allowed herself to relax. “Feldy, what did you do?”
“Satisfied?” The voice from the cowl sounded smug.
“Satisfied? No. I’m not satisfied at all.” CJ turned on her heel and pushed brusquely past Budo as she left the main room of the bar. Only Budo saw the slight quiver of her lower lip.
With CJ’s departure, the room was quiet again. Finally, the cloaked woman broke the silence, “Well, since our story checks out, I think I’ll take a seat at the bar. Barkeep, I’d like an absinthe, if you please.”
When the cloaked women took her seat at the bar at the opposite end from Cel, Lippy sniffed and put a glass on the bar in front of her. Next to the glass she placed a bottle of amber liquid. As Lippy passed through the gap between the counters, the cloaked woman reached out and grabbed her arm with a gloved hand. Quick as a flash, Lippy’s plasma-dagger appeared out of nowhere in her opposite hand, its electrified blade sizzling the air and testifying to the dangerous situation.
The cloaked woman quickly withdrew her hand. “This isn’t absinthe,” she said simply.
With a cold glare, Lippy said flatly, “I know. The absinthe I save for Feldy and I’ll be frelled sideways before I give any to the likes of you.” Sheathing her weapon, she stormed off after CJ.
Shrugging, the cloaked woman poured her drink and sat quietly.
Meanwhile, Budo walked over to where the other women were sitting. She stopped next to Bern’s chair, motioned to Sondra and asked her, “What’s she doing?”
“I’m not sure. She seems to be a mystic of sorts.”
Noting Sondra’s odd position on the floor, Budo noted, “She’s certainly flexible. I wonder if all mystics need to be so flexible.”
Ebony smiled as Bern chuckled at the observation. As they felt the tension release a bit among them, Sondra stirred on the floor. Slowly, languorously, she rose from the floor to a kneeling position and stretched her sore muscles. She looked at the women seated before her and asked, “Any change?”
Bern glanced up at Budo before answering. “No. None yet.”
Sondra looked up at Budo and blinked as surprised recognition possessed her face. “I know you. Or your kind actually.”
Budo’s blue eyes flashed and closed to threatening slits. “I think not. You must be mistaken.”
“No, no. I’m sure of it,” Sondra replied. “It was on one of those luxury pleasure yachts plying the Zontra Pearls star cluster. You’re a bordello unit. A Budo, right?”
Bern snapped her head open-mouthed in Budo’s direction, while Ebony raised an eyebrow and continued working on her quilt. Cel merely smiled to herself, contented by the possible proof to an old theory she’d had. Budo remained quiet as she scanned her memories and subroutine banks for the proper response. After one self-generated process spun up and scanned for any personal location reference for the Zontra Pearls star cluster, and died mysteriously microseconds later, her response was icy cool. “Ms. Thirdmoon. While others of my kind may have been built or employed for such services, I can assure you that no such programming exists within my memories to support such activities.” Turning to the other women, she continued, “I’ll be back at the med-station seeing to Feld. Summon me if you so need.” With that, Budo turned around and left.
“Our new arrivals can sure clear a room, can’t they?” Ebony observed to no one in particular.