Cloverleaf Station: Chapter Twelve, Part Two

 Notes: A little philosophical aside before we start delving back into the quotidian. Which, yes, will involve some shady bullshit ;)

Title: Cloverleaf Station: Chapter Twelve, Part Two

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Chapter Twelve, Part Two

 

Kieron wasn’t used to children. He liked Zakari’s kids, but he’d never spent any time with them without one or all of their parents nearby. Sometimes ships brought kids to the station, but he never had anything to do with them either, apart from making sure they didn’t break anything. Obviously he’d been a kid himself once upon a time, but he didn’t remember actually doing any childish things in his childhood. He’d never played games that weren’t war games, never shared affection without an ulterior motive, never laughed and sung and generally been loud just for the sake of it.

With all of that in his past, being around Catalina was very…interesting.

Elanus was right about her speech abilities; only about one in three words was clearly intelligible, but the rest of it was pretty easy to understand in context. She wanted to show off everything—her construction capability, her speakers, the way she could make her lights dance. She seemed very proud of that in particular.

“How old would you say she is?” Kieron asked.

“Interesting question.” Elanus stroked his chin as he looked adoringly at his ship. “Her central processor was in development for five years before I installed it into the ship’s core. That happened two years ago. It’s not a one-to-one correlation with human aging, of course, but I’d still put her somewhere in the six to seven year range. With a side helping of advanced AI,” he added. “If she were a person, she’d either be the most brilliant child in the history of the universe, or its most childish adult genius.”

“I think you’ve got that title nailed down.”

Elanus laughed. “You are feeling better if you’re able to give being witty a go. And it might even be true.” He shrugged. “I may be childish, but what I’ve made in her…you understand why I couldn’t let her stay in Deysan’s hands. Catalina is constantly learning, absorbing not just knowledge and experience but the personality traits of those around her. If he didn’t break her mind, she might have become a true threat to those around her.”

“Kind of makes you feel like she should be an only child, huh?”

Catalina’s song took a low turn, clearly displeased by the suggestion, and a series of “Nomeannowantnono” trailed across the screen of Kieron’s tab. Elanus seemed to be considering the question seriously, though.

“You might be right. Ethically, selling a ship like Catalina would be akin to dealing in slavery. Handing over minds sheathed in some of the best technology on any planet to be molded by whoever could afford them…it’s dangerous, and that’s not even getting into the repercussions if one of the ships was stolen, like Catalina was.” Elanus turned a curious look on Kieron. “I didn’t take you for a philosopher.”

“It’s not a philosophical issue,” Kieron replied. “There’s nothing theoretical about her sentience, although I’m sure there are people out there who’d disagree.”

“Too many.” Elanus made a face. “Some of them would buy a ship like her just for the pleasure of taking her apart.”

“And given her sentience, taking into consideration both her strengths and her vulnerabilities, leaving her as one-of-a-kind seems to be the best path forward.” Kieron tilted his head as he looked at Catalina. “Until she decides she wants to create another ship like her on her own someday, in which case another argument could be made for her right to procreation—”

“Ah! La-la-la-la-la!” Elanus actually stuck his fingers in his ears. “No, nope, I’m not listening to you talk about my baby being capable of reproduction. Nope, nope, nope.”

“You are ridiculous,” Kieron informed him. He was amusing, though. Being with Elanus and Catalina was almost fun enough to make Kieron forget how tired he was, but after just an hour of freedom from the tank, he was exhausted. He tried to hide it, but Elanus saw right through yawns stifled with a stiffened jaw and slow, steady blinks meant to suggest attention, not fatigue.

“All right, sparky, time for sleep.”

“Do I at least get to do that in my own quarters?” Kieron asked. He meant it to be acidic, but it mostly just sounded drained.

“Of course! I’m not kidnapping you. Besides, you have the biggest bedroom in the whole station, literally the only one that will fit this chair in it.” He got up to stand behind the aforementioned chair, then said, “Say goodnight.”

It took a second for Kieron to realize he was talking to Catalina, not Kieron himself. Catalina sang out a few notes, and an excited “Goooooodddnniiiiiiiiiiighghghghght!!!” rolled across the tab.

“Thank you,” Kieron said, smiling despite himself. “You t—” He couldn’t prevent the next yawn from breaking through, and belatedly covered his mouth with his hand.

“All right, that’s it, bedtime.” Elanus pushed him out of the hangar and down three different halls until they got to Kieron’s quarters. The door opened without even verifying their identities. Kieron glared up at Elanus.

“Did you shut down my security protocols?”

“Yes, but only temporarily, and only because I needed to be able to get into all the rooms on this station,” Elanus defended himself. “Yours included. It’s in my rights as the owner of the station’s contract, isn’t it?”

Kieron did his best not to grind his teeth together. “Yes.”

“And you’re currently lacking the implant which would get you into this room automatically, aren’t you?”

“I could use my hardcopy ID.”

“You’d already locked it into this room when you left on your mission,” Elanus replied blithely, bypassing the living room and heading straight for the bedroom. Getting the chair in was a tight fit, but he made it work somehow. “So I took some initiative.”

“Some meddling initiative.”

“I never meddle, I only improve things. Go on.” He motioned to the bed. “Hop on. Try it.”

“I can’t hop.” It was hard to confess that, but not as hard as it would have been an hour ago. “Please. Help.”

Amazingly, Elanus didn’t make a joke. He simply nodded and came around the chair, reached his long, gangly arms beneath Kieron’s knees and back, and lifted him into the air.

Kieron didn’t know Ganians were so strong. Their height implied some physical limitations in a standard-gravity atmosphere like this, but Elanus held him up like he weighed nothing. It was kind of…hot. He blushed, unable to stop himself.

“Oh, do you like being carried like this?” Elanus asked, visibly delighted. “Are you saying I could have foregone the chair entirely and just carried you around like a space princess?”

“Shut the hell up.” Kieron nodded his reddened head toward the bed. “You can put me down now.”

“I could. I kind of like this, though.”

Kieron did too. That was the problem. “Down. Now.”

“Yes, sir, sparky sir.” Elanus set him down gently on the bed, whose top blanket had already been turned back. The sheets were suspiciously silky.

“Are these actual silk?”

“Would I do that to you?” Elanus replied.

Kieron rolled his eyes. “Clearly you would.”

“There, you’ve answered your own question! It’s not simple extravagance, though. I had extras, don’t let it bother you.”

That was a transparent lie, given the size of Kieron’s bed compared with the tiny bunk he knew came with Lizzie, but the sheets were comfortable enough that Kieron wasn’t going to complain again. “I’m not bothered.”

“No, you’re tired,” Elanus said. He walked back around the bed and slid past the chair, dimming the ambient light with a touch as he went. “Get some sleep. Call me if you need anything—just say my name out loud and I’ll come running.”

“Don’t go to any trouble,” Kieron mumbled, already halfway unconscious.

“It’s no trouble.” Elanus’s voice was as soft and smooth as the sheets Kieron was lying on. “Sleep well.”

He did.