Sean Woods

Project Gilgamesh

© Sean Woods

This book is copyrighted by Sean Woods. All rights reserved.

(Revision 2021-07-07)

Sean Woods

9807 Traveller St.

Manassas, VA 20110

USA

www.etoyoc.com

This book is dedicated to the giants whose shoulders I stand upon, the people in my life I lean on, and the readers I will stumble upon.

Chapter 1

The Quin

Emily was jogging at about 2 meters per second. She mused that the station was moving at 47 meters per second to keep her feet on the deck. The station itself whipped around the asteroid Psyche at 90 meters per second. Psyche, in turn, rotated around the Sun at a speed so large that even her mind gave up on making sense of it.

Emily stopped to catch her breath and clear her head. A polished section of bulkhead reflected her image. She straightened her jogging outfit. She tucked her pointy ears behind the sweat band that she used to try to hide them. She retied her red hair back with a scrunchie. She wiped the sweat from her freckled cheeks.

Lost in thought, she had lost track of where she was in the world. Well, space station. Her eye caught a damage control plaque. Like every location on the station, this room was labeled with all of the key information responders would need to know. Including the compartment number. She was in compartment 215-240-0700.

She was one level below the metro level, in the center of the station's length, and halfway along its circumference. More specifically, a scenic jogging path cut through a fruit orchard.

The air was full of complex smells. There was an aroma of fruit flower blossoms. There was a peaty stench of mulch and manure. There was also the faint vapors of paint and rubber and machinery. But two scents rose above all of the others. Roasted coffee and baked pie.

The operators of the orchard had started off with a little fruit stand next to the scenic trail. Over time they added freshly baked pies to their offerings. When it was clear that most of the traffic on the trail were people out for early morning exercise, they added breakfast pastries, and coffee.

What an hour or so of running couldn't do to clear Emily's mind, the contemplation of a decadent helping of empty calories and stimulants did. She approached the order counter like a moth to a flame.

The little cafe was right off the scenic path. There were no walls to speak of, or a door. Just a set of outdoor tables, a counter, a display case, and a tiny little shack with the few things that needed to be kept out of the rain. It was also positioned strategically nearby the municipal restroom facilities.

Emily waited a moment as the wrinkled old woman behind the counter pulled a stack of tiny peach pies out of the oven. The elderly lady wore an apron and a work shirt for Yoder Family Orchards. Her pants were clearly broken in, but not in disrepair. Her first name was embroidered into the breast of the apron: Cathy.

Cathy muttered without so much as looking up from her work, "What do you want?"

Emily said, "My usual."

Cathy said, "So strange that a girl your age takes espresso straight. When I was your age I took mine dolled up with chocolate and artificial sweetener."

Emily shrugged, "What can I say? I was born with sophisticated tastes."

Over the gurgles of the machine the old woman carried on their conversation, "How are things with that nice young fellow you were talking about?"

Emily winced, "Oh. Yah. Him. I broke it off."

The gurgling stopped. Two plates flew from the top of a stack, and onto the counter. Two pies levitated onto two plates. A sign on the counter flipped itself, changing "Sorry, we are Open" to "Hold Your Horses, Be right back."

Cathy walked perfunctorily to an empty table, and the plates and coffee seem to follow her like a pack of lost puppies. As Emily sat down, her espresso and pie slid in front of her.

Cathy spoke, "Honey, look. Speaking from experience, I don't think men are ever happy with the idea of a woman who has a full time occupation that is not them."

Emily broke down into tears, "I don't get it. He found me interesting at first because I was doing all this research. But all he wanted was for me to stop doing research and shack up and have his kids. How did you manage a relationship and a career?"

Cathy sighed, "Who says that I did?"

Emily was confused, "But I've seen your kids. Or at least Jebediah. He was a working here last summer."

Cathy gave Emily a devious conspiratory glance, "But you've never seen any of their fathers."

Cathy stressed the plural in fathers. Emily looked up confused for a second. And then a glint of realization came over her face, "Oh…"

Cathy simply looked back smug.

Emily decided to change the subject. She noticed a poster on an easel. It was very busy, with flashy graphics, and dense, dense text. She pointed it out, "That's new. Branching out into advertising?"

Cathy shrugged, "Well not really. More of a favor to Brother, who is doing a favor for his Captain. They are trying too hard, if you ask me. And I should know a thing or two about marketing."

Emily read the poster a little more closely. It was recruiting for a deep space platform called Paul Cézanne. The add listed openings for just about every speciality. Prior service. No service. It finished with the twin slogans:

Experienced Mages looking for a change of pace.

Bright young adventurers looking to get into space.

Emily chuckled, "I see what you mean. They would have done better with several different posters targeting several different audiences. But seriously, how can a ship be having so much trouble recruiting they have to run an advertising campaign? That just smacks of awful management. If they have to tell me it's a great deal, that's the first tip off it's a rip off."

Cathy moaned, "I said the same thing. Say, you have a pretty decent head on your shoulders. I'm embarrassed to ask after all these years. But what business are you in, again?"

Emily, "Boondoggles. I'm a research assistant at the Academy."

Cathy, "You have been coming here for years. I'm shocked you aren't a Mage by now."

Emily, "It's not for lack of trying. I am actually a Mistress of Cosmology. But there aren't any openings in the field, so I research and teach."

Cathy, "Those that can do. Those that can't teach. But, deary, you sound so smart. How could you end up in a field with no job prospects?"

Emily, "Oh when I started at the academy, I wanted to be a starship captain. But a background check turned up that the parents I never had were both veterans who died in action."

Cathy, "Well why did that stop you?"

Emily muttered, "Somewhere is a regulation that forbids and orphan whose parents were both lost in the line of duty from serving in front line units. Some kind of genetic preservation of heroic genes. It's moronic."

Cathy asked, "So why couldn't you work on a civilian ship?"

Emily, "Civis don't want to pay to train their officers. The Merchant Spatial and all of the major shipping companies hire ex-Spacey officers."

Cathy, "So why cosmology?"

Emily sighed, "It's the most elite speciality the Academy offers. You see, officers on ships are basically two types. Line officers, who boss people around, and specialists. Specialists only ever get promoted if their field is in demand. And I just assumed the field that was the hardest study would be the most in demand."

Cathy, "That makes sense. So why aren't you out in the fleet?"

Emily sipped her espresso, "Automation. By the time I finished all of the coursework, the role of ship's Cosmogatoyr was in the process of being automated. Vessels moving around the belt or the core planets are guided now by space traffic control. I am competing for the remaining jobs with people who have decades more experience, and families to feed."

Cathy, "Why not just pick something else to do?"

Emily, "Hope. Sooner or later all of the experts in the field are going to retire or die off. And there is nobody in the pipeline to replace them. I have a scholarship that pays the bills in the meantime."

Cathy sipped her espresso and spoke, "They really just pay you to sit around and wait around for people to retire?"

Emily sipped, and shrugged, "Actually, yes. The only stipulation is that I have to keep furthering my education. So when I'm not teaching cosmology, I'm studying up on cybernetics. Worst case, I can get a job automating out of existence somebody else's job."

As Emily said those words, she realized that a platoon of quins was working the orchard behind Cathy's cafe.

Quins are a form of android. They are designed to mimic the human form, and approximate human strength and dexterity. In outward appearance they resemble a crash test dummy, or a display mannequin. Over time "mannequin" was simply shortened to "quin" in common language.

Cathy quipped, "Well sometimes automation works to your benefit. Can you imagine a woman my age working the fields like that?"

Emily asked, again seemingly confused, "But… wait. I thought… your kids…?"

Cathy threw up her arms, "Flown off. They all had different dreams. Ashley is a teacher. Caleb is still in the service. Jeb works for the city. But he still comes by from time to time to help fix the droids."

Some of the quins moved from pot to pot, rotating the trees slightly to counter the twist that would normally occur from the Coriolis forces acting on the branches. Other quins plucked the fruit that was the proper ripeness for market. Still others moved from from pot to pot, pulling any weeds. Their movement was so human-like it was creepy.

As one Quin tried to lift a pot, the cumulative stress of its lot in life finally caught up with it. The android's shoulder joint failed catastrophically with a snap. The pot it was lifting tipped over, and collapsed with a crash. The tree it contained flopped over, knocking down the next tree in line. That tree knocked down the next tree next to it. The deck was covered in fallen trees, broken pottery, spilled soil, and smashed fruit.

In the din a cat hissed, and darted under a table to safety.

Without batting an eyelash (not that quins have eyelashes) the quin continued on its appointed task. It sauntered over to the next pot, and struggled to lift it with its one remaining arm. The pot wobbled precariously, as fruit started raining down on the deck.

Cathy yelled, "O for the love of," Catching the sound of the crashing pots behind her. Cathy scrambled (as much as an old woman can scramble) away from behind the table, knocking over her chair in the process. She walked briskly to a control station a few tens of meters away. She furiously worked a set of controls to no avail, "Damn it. You had one job!"

Emily knocked back her shot of coffee, and sprang to the Cathy's side. She spoke cautiously, "Is everything ok?"

Cathy yelled, "It's not listening to the stop order. It's going to knock the entire orchard over if we don't stop it."

Emily ran to the quin. Each had an emergency stop button on the back of their skull, and on the chest. But they were under a plexisteel cover, to prevent them from accidentally being activated during normal work activities.

The quin was 30 centimeters taller than Emily, and had at least 50 kilograms more mass. The droid wasn't resisting her efforts to access the emergency stop button. However, its struggle to lift the pot was making accessing the button impossible. She could get the cover open, but its movements would slam it shut again. Adding to the danger was the exposed splintered wood, shards of optical fiber, and torn metal actuator cable.

Emily said aloud, "Say! Could you just hold still a minute?"

The android immediately stopped. Cathy's jaw dropped.

Dumbfounded, Cathy worked a series of inputs on the control panel, "Nope. Deaf as a post. It is not responding to a single command. Is that a trick they teach you in cybernetics?"

Emily shrugged, "Um, not actually."

Emily directed her attention to the android. What else could she tell the droid to do? She though for a moment and said, "Follow me."

She walked in a straight line for about 30 meters. The quin followed her, staying about 3 meters behind.

Cathy motioned for Emily to follow, "If you can get him to follow you, could you be a dear and lead him over to my repair shed."

Emily nodded. The three wandered a hundred meters or so to a bulkhead at the edge of the farm. The bulkhead was painted with a special scheme that let it appear as if an infinite forest was stretching off into the horizon. Painted into part of the design was a barn. The Old woman grabbed a handle on the painting, and revealed a dark chamber.

Inside the chamber were a dozen or so charging stations for quins, as well as an artificer's workbench. One quin was in the process of replacing the knee on another. It seemed to finish as Cathy entered the room. The quin being serviced performed some sort of calibration check, and then struck back out into the fields.

The artificer quin scanned the quin with the broken shoulder with some sort of hand-held sensors. Next it plugged a series of cables into the one-armed quin's skull. The artificer directed Cathy's attention to a technical readout on a console nearby.

The old woman read the scrawl of text, and muttered to herself as she did so. She finally groaned as she looked up, "Well the bad news is that this unit is a total loss. The good news is, that shoulder repair was probably going to cost me more than a new one."

Emily looked confused, "Wait. What can't be repaired?"

Cathy poked the skull on the android, "Somehow the control transceiver was damaged in the accident. Repairing it involves opening up the quin's brain case. And that is, needless to say, highly illegal."

Emily nodded, "Right."

Cathy, "Oh I suppose I'll have to take the day off to run this damn thing to the recycling center. Not to mention reprogram the other ones to clean up that mess outside. Of course, it's right next to the damn cafe. Couldn't be on the back 40…no…"

Emily, "I tell you what. I'm out for a walk anyway. It seems to be following me. I could take it down to the center for you. It sounds like you have enough to do."

Cathy, "For being such a dear, how about I just sell it to you. One credit."

Emily shook her head, "Oh now. The scrap value of this thing has to be a fortune. I couldn't."

Cathy, "Oh I think you saved me more than that by keeping it from knocking over any more trees. Take it."

Cathy walked over to filing cabinet. She fished for a document, and walked back. She scrawled her signature in one box, and flipped the document around, "Here is the title for our little friend. I've marked that I have sold it to you for one credit. Though, don't forget to pay the transfer tax. You'll need this form anyway when you turn it in for scrap. I just need your signature here…"

Emily stuck out her thumb, expecting Cathy to pull out a transaction recorder. Cathy shook her head, "No, no. I just have to put a sale price on here. Whatever you can scavenge from it is yours."￼

Emily and the android walked towards the recycling center. As they walked, Emily looked again at the title she held in her hand. She owned a quin. Yes, it was a malfunctioning quin. It needed a lot of repairs. But she owned it. At least for a few minutes. This happy thought of actually owning something nice cycled through her head.

At last they were rounding the last corner towards the TASTE® Recycling Center. She reached the counter with the droid. The clerk looked at Emily, looked at the slip of paper, and looked at the droid, "500 reward points."

Emily gasped, "Reward points? I could get a few hundred credits just by scavenging this thing for spare parts."

The clerk handed her back the slip of paper, "Well, you can tell Grandma Yoder that 500 reward points is the best she is ever going to get. These system 7's are so out of date that the only reason we don't charge a disposal fee is that EHI really wants to get these old models off the street. That thing is going to cost you a few hundred credits to get working again."

Emily muttered, "On second thought, I think I'll take it home with me. Lord knows I have all of the other trinkets you guys offer as rewards."

The clerk leered from behind the counter, "But hey, there is that new trading card block coming out next month. I'm pretty sure 500 reward points would get you the whole set."

Emily looked him straight in the eye, "More like a chance to get the entire set. And more like me opening up 100 packs and still not managing to get any of the good cards. Skip it, if I can get him working, great. If not, he makes a good conversation piece."￼

As Emily was leaving the recycling center with quin in hand, she found a cat blocking her path.

Cats are not an uncommon sight around the station. They are usually mongrel breeds that are kept on board to cut down on rodents and birds that infest the station. You can tell a community cat from the strays by its distinctive COMMUNITY VERMIN CONTROL collar.

This cat had a much more elegant collar. The collar was inlayed with jewels and complex decoration. The cat's fur was as exquisite as the collar. It was a fancy breed. It resembled a tiny snow leopard. It carried itself like an aloof princess.

As soon as Emily locked eyes with the cat, she somehow knew something. It needed her to follow. She… She needed Emily to follow. As this information entered into Emily's mind, the cat broke eye contact and started moving in a deliberate direction toward the marketplace.

The cat led Emily to an alleyway. In the back of the alley was small repair shop. On the door was a sign indicating the establishment was an EHI Certified Repair Center. Emily struggled to find a name for the place, anywhere. Instead the only markings shilled it as an independent repair center for Etoyoc Heavy Industries (and subsidiaries) appliances and androids.

As Emily led the damaged quin through the door, a little bell rang in the ceiling. A holo-display of the latest quin series was projecting in the center of the room. The walls were covered with random assortments of spare parts, pre-made alchemical mixtures, and a few advertisements for new products that could be special ordered.

One prominent sign in the center of what looked like a check-out counter had three words in a triangle:

FAST        CHEAP

RIGHT

(Pick two)

Emily saw a bell on the counter with another sign RING FOR SERVICE. The cat leapt on the counter, and began batting the bell ferociously.

A tired voice carried itself in from behind a curtain, "Oh for love of chaos. What have you dragged into my office this time…"

A middle aged man stepped through the curtain. He had a salt and pepper goatee. A golden framed monocle clung to his left eye. He wore a golf shirt that had the name ISHMAEL embroidered on his breast, with INDEPENDENT OPERATOR embroidered in smaller letters underneath.

The cat meowed and growled and hissed at the man. The man replied, "Oh come now my Bastet. I don't think the quin was trying to hurt you. Besides, even you had been crushed by a tree, you still have how may lives?"

The cat stood fixed with a crossed expression across her body. She turned away from Ishmael. Her tail twitched violently. After a moment of establishing exactly how she felt, she dove off the counter and onto a pillow in the corner. Where she proceeded to groom herself, and ignore everything else.

Ishmael sighed, and directed his attention to the newcomers in the room, "Ah. I see you have a discerning taste in home automation. I believe this is, yes, a system 7. It looks to me like you need a shoulder assembly, a new right arm."

The cat interrupted her grooming, and let out a groaning meow. She set back to ignoring the world. Ishmael turned and listened to the cat, before turning back to Emily. "Ah and a charging module."

Emily was taken aback, "Um… Hi…?"

The salesmen went in for a firm handshake, "Call me Ishmael."

Emily caught her train of thought, "Well the arm damage is obvious, but how did you know I would need a charging module?"

Ismael chuckled as he pulled a wand from his work shirt. He talked as the worked over the quin with the wand, "Call it a lucky guess. It looks like this guy is a mix and match of whatever the previous owner could find. Thats a pair of XJ legs. That arm is some kind of indigenous design. Actually, the only original part on this thing is the head."

Emily winced, "So… ballpark… how much to get him back up and running?"

Ishmael scratched his goatee, "Hmmm. I guess that would depend on what you wanted to make him into. Droids are a bit of a black hole where credits disappear. Instead of giving me a scope of work, how about we start with an actual budget."

Emily blurted, "500 credits."

Ishmeal muttered to himself, "Hmm. 500 credits. I suppose we could…Bastet, Dear. Could you check the back to see what we have for System 7's?"

The cat ignored him.

Ishmael pleaded, "Well fine, I suppose that if we don't have a customer we'll have to switch to dry food for a while."

The cat stretched on her pillow. She stepped daintily onto the floor, and shook herself from nose to tail. She trotted under the curtain. After a minute or so, she called with an excited meow. Ishmael stepped through the curtain, and after a minute of so cried out, "Oh that's perfect!"

A minute or so after that, Ishmael emerged from behind the curtain with a crate on a hand truck. The crate had the usual markings for an EHI product, as well as some safety markings about the mass of the contents. Stenciled into the front was the label EHI - SYSTEM 7 - HOME EDITION BUNDLE.

Ishmael pulled a clipboard from the top of the crate. He then started to explain, "Why I seem to have had this thing sitting on the back room for a while. My inventory manifest says that it originally retailed for $499."

Emily piped up, "I am a research student at the academy!"

Ishmael asked, "Oh. What department?"

Emily replied with a proud smile on her face, "Cybernetics and Cosmology."

Ishmael flipped a sheet on the clipboard, "Well, isn't that handy. That knocks the price to $399. We'll just ignore 20 years of inflation. This includes everything but the head unit. Which you happen to have."

Ishmael tapped the tip of the wand, and when he removed his fingers it was replaced with a pen. He started marking off on the clipboard as he read, "So that's a modular chassis, general purpose legs, an assortment of tool arms, charger module, and manuals. I'll throw in assembly and disposal of the old parts for 101 credits, and don't worry about the taxes. This is an educational sale. $500 even."

Emily asked excitedly, "Wow. That's… awesome. When can you have it ready?"

Ishmael put down the clipboard, "Well all of this is well and good. If you want to put it out on display. But I picked up that the control transceiver was not functioning on this unit. It's going to be a paperweight."

Emily shook her head, "Not quite. Quincy dear, can you walk across the room for this gentleman?"

The quin bowed, slightly, and then did exactly what Emily asked.

Ishmael was astonished, "Are you Technosensitive by any chance?"

Emily, confused, replied, "Come again?"

Ishmael reiterated, "Technosensitive. Really it should be called Technopathic, but that sounds more like a psychological diagnoses than an ability. You seem to have a sympathy for living computers. Pretty rare. Only seen it a couple of times."

Emily, "You've seen this before? Dear God I've endured years of therapy because people though that I was crazy!"

Ishmael continued, "I have to admit it is surprising to see in someone your age. Usually it is found in freakishly experienced programmers. I remember one old mage. They used to bring her in as keynote speaker at the EHI repair conferences. Grace somebody or other. She died about 10 years ago. Say, you aren't like her granddaughter or anything, are you?"

Emily shrugged, "No idea. I'm an orphan. My parent's identities are shielded by some really strange privacy law. Though I think my mom was from Psyche, because the embassy keeps sending me stuff."

Ishmael looked Emily up and down, as if seeing her for the first time again. He noted her short stature and pointed ears, "Ah. That makes so much sense now. I've never seen your type outside of Krasnovia."

Emily was flabbergasted, "Wait… one of what?"

The salesman screwed his eyes, as if trying to sort out exactly what she knew or didn't know. Finally he blurted out, disguised as a sneeze, "zapomnij coś powiedziałem"

Emily's mind was a fog for a moment. Finally she shook her head, surprised. She said, "Gesundheight?"

Ishmael state, matter of factly, "Sorry about that. I'll have it ready by Friday. Does Friday work for you, or should it hold it over the weekend? Actually forget that… Friday early as I can. We need someone to keep an eye on you…"

Emily stammered, "Sure… Friday is good. I'll stop by after lunch."

He pressed the pen/wand into Emily's hands, as well a the clipboard, "Sign here."

Emily signed on the clipboard. She felt a strange twinge from the wand.

The salesman took out a business card, "If you need to get in touch with me before then, just call. And don't worry about getting the credits together right now. We'll work out payment later."

Emily took the card. It was blank on the front. She flipped it over, it was blank on the back. She flipped it a third time and the following text appeared:

ISHMAEL

INDEPENDENT OPERATOR

Emily looked up and started to speak, "Wait, there is no phone number or email on this card."

But as she looked up, she discovered she was in an alleyway. The sales office, the salesperson, the cat, and her "new" android were gone.

She flipped the card over once more, and it read:

BE SEEING YOU!

Date: 53365 @ 1300,

Location 205-075-0120

Emily looked at the entrance of the alleyway. According to the damage control plaque, this was compartment 205-075-0120.

Chapter 2

The Unspeakable Horrors

It was the height of the Retniw festival on New Franklin. By tradition, the town square was filled with traveling performers from all around the Solar System.

ISTO liked to celebrate the diversity of its people at this time of year. New Franklin, being the capital city, held tournaments for traveling shows. Each group seemed to win a prize. And if a prize didn't exist for a particularly talented act, one was invented on the spot.

The city square was filled with hundreds of performers, and thousands of spectators. There were Musicians, human statues, sidewalk painters, street illusionists, and dancers. If you didn't find at least one of the acts entertaining and jaw dropping, you just weren't looking hard enough.

Emily and Quincy were set to perform a short number in the main plaza. The Academy had asked her to put together a show using her recent work.

Emily walked onto the stage. The stage was platform built about a meter off the street level. Just enough to keep the passing crowd from intruding into the performing area. It was adjacent to a municipal building which served as the "back stage" area. A line of caution tape from the front corners of the stage marked off a fire lane between the stage and the front row of the audience. The audience stood or sat on blankets in the grassy area of the park.

She tapped the lapel microphone, "Can everyone hear me?"

A small crowd had gathered around. Mostly coworkers. Cathy and Ishmael were also in attendance. But other than that, most of the rest were simply trying to grab a decent spot for the next act that was scheduled in the next slot.

Emily continued, "Well thank you all for joining me and my friend Quincy, here. Hey… wait a minute. QUINCY!"

Her android pokes his head our of the door to the municipal building. Emily continued, "Oh don't be shy. Come on out."

Quincy seemed to gather his nerve, and strutted bravely through the door frame, up the stairs, and onto the center of the stage with her. The audience laughed. Emily sighed and remembered They don't know this wasn't part of the show!

Emily dictated to the audience, "I'd like to introduce my robot partner. This is Quincy. He started off life as a gardening droid. Give them a bow, Quincy."

Quincy gave them a bow.

A boy, about 11, off stage heckled, "Oh they just have it's controller off stage."

Emily kept her cool. She grabbed wireless microphone off of a stand, and walked to the edge of the stage. She called the the heckler over, "In education we love audience participation. Young man, come one over here a second."

The boy sheepishly approached.

Emily knelt down and asked, "What's your name?" She held the microphone gently in front of the boy's face.

The boy answered bravely, "Stanley! Stanley Rogers!"

Emily continued, "Just to be clear, you have never met me before?"

Stanley nodded his head, "No, Ma'am."

Emily asked, "And you aren't working with me at all?"

Stanley nodded his head, "No, Ma'am."

Emily stood up, "I just wanted to make sure. Because you basically gave away the first part of my set. Stanley here understand that Quins can only accept commands from a control tablet."

Cathy heckled, "Or a command station!"

Emily rolled her eyes, "Yes, or a command station."

Emily walked to the edge of the stage, and picked up what looked like a control tablet. She handed the tablet to Stanley, "Here you go. You were right. There is a control tablet off stage. Why don't you read for me the serial number of the quin."

Stanley rattled off a series of numbers, "B4796F"

Emily called over to the android, "Quincy dear, can you come over here. Turn your head so Stanley can read your serial number."

Quincy walked across the stage. He knelt down, and just as Emily asked, positioned his torso so Stanley could read his serial number. Stanley read aloud, "B4796F"

Emily continued, "So thank you Stanley, you really do understand your robotics. Now punch in a command."

Stanley tried to enter something. But after a few seconds of struggle he exclaimed, "I can't this thing is busted."

Emily held the microphone to Stanley's mouth, "Could you repeat that for the audience."

Stanley said, "I can't enter a command. It had an error code saying the control module is malfunctioning."

Emily nodded, "And he was like that when I found him. Thank's for your excellent observation, Stanley!"

Emily took back the control modules from Stanley, and clipped the wireless microphone back into the stand. She directed the audience to Stanley. And they politely clapped. Stanley looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock.

Emily continued, "Quincy and I have developed a special little bond. We are still trying to study how it works, but we hope we can adapt this tegic to all sorts of new applications. So I have put together a few demonstrations of this link in action."

Emily took out a set of three juggling pins. She started to juggle them. After a few seconds of juggling, she tossed the pins one by one to Quincy, who started juggling them instead.

Emily directed the audiences attention to the now juggling droid. The audience had grown slightly, and were starting to become engaged. They applauded.

Emily pulled another set of three pins. She started to juggle, and joked with the audience, "You know, when I started this work I had to learn how to juggle so I could teach him. But I am still terrible…"

She dropped a pin. The android, without missing a beat, scooped up her dropped pin before it hit the stage. It incorporated the pin into its own juggling for a few seconds. Then it tossed Emily's pin back to her.

The audience applauded.

Emily spoke, "And sometimes I'm just lazy, or I just need a little help with something."

She then started to deliberately toss her pins one by one to the android. The android accepted each pin, and returned a pin at the same time. Woman and android were collaborating to juggle 6 pins together.

Emily nodded at the droid. And the droid shook its shoulder's slightly in reply. They coordinated removing the pins one-by-one from the routine until all 6 pins were lined up on stage.

Emily and Quincy took a bow. The audience roared in applause.

Emily continued with the show, "Now all of that looks impressive. But as my friend Stanley pointed out, all of this could probably be controlled off stage. So now I need to show you something that would be impossible to do with an off stage controller. I'm going to need some help with this, can I have a volunteer? Maybe another little kid. I like to feel like I'm taller than somebody."

A bunch of little hand flew up. Emily picked a little girl in a flower dress. She must have been about 7 or 8 years old. As she wound her way to the stage, Emily thrust a wireless microphone to her. Emily then asked, "Hello. Well thanks for helping Quincy and me. What's your name?"

The little girl answered, shyly, "Alice."

Emily then asked, "What grade are you in Alice?"

Alice replied, proudly, "I'm in second grade!"

Emily continued, "Wow, second grade. So you know your numbers and your letters and your colors by now."

Alice nodded.

As Alice nodded, Quincy started to set up a series of stools. On each stool was a sign with different numbers and letters and colors. He then stood on the opposite corner of the stage. And he covered his non-existent ears would be with his hands.

Emily instructed, "Now I'm going to turn off my microphone in a second. Alice, I need you to describe one of the signs. Quincy will bring it to you. And just so nobody else can hear, I want you to whisper your sign into my ear. Tell me the letters you want. Or the numbers. Or the colors. Doesn't matter."

Emily turned off the switch on her microphone, and turned off the switch on Alice's microphone. Alice whispered something into  Emily's ear. The two (and the audience) watched as Quincy took his hands off of his ears. He grabbed one of the signs and gently handed it to the little girl.

Emily clicked on the two microphones, "Was that the sign you described to me?"

The little girl nodded furiously, "Yes! I wanted the one with the green B!"

The audience applauded once more. Emily guided Alice to the edge of the stage, and back to her waiting family.

Emily finished off her show, "So that is all of the prepared demonstrations that I have for you today. Do I have any time for questions?"

A stern looking man with a clipboard and a headset who was coordinating getting acts on and off the stage shook his head. No.

Emily and Quincy took a bow, and Emcee came over the address system, "That was Mistress Deagan and Quincy. You can catch them around campus at the Maillardet Center for Cybernetics. Let's give them a big hand."

Emily and Quincy left the stage. As she walked off stage, she was greeted by the Commandant of the Academy.

Emily was flustered, "I hope I did ok up there."

The Commandant place her hands on Emily's shoulders, "That was an incredible show. I mean, it's not exactly Cirque Du Luna. But for a tegical demonstration it was brilliant. I mean, look at the crowd."

Emily looked downhearted, "Oh they are just here for the next act I think."

The Commandant looked at Emily quizzingly, "Well at least you managed to grab a decent seat for the next set. And who is on next?"￼

A burst of pyrotechnics introduced the next act. The Emcee shouted excitedly, "And all of the way from occupied Lethia, I bring to you act we've all been waiting for… Nevyrazimyy Uzhas? Wait I though this was supposed to be Cirque Du Luna?"

The flames formed the letters, first in Cyrillic невыразимый ужас, which then dissolved into the roman letters Nevyrazimyy Uzhas. Which danced into the form, The Unspeakable Horrors.  Which was followed by a disclaimer, Not Legally Affiliated with Cirque Du Luna.

Many of the audience audibly groaned. Some of the back of the crowd started to drift away.

Three performers emerged from the flames, and flopped on stage. They looked like shipwrecked spacers, flung onto a distant shore. Each was wearing black and white makeup, a black beret, a striped top, black slacks, and black overalls.

All wore a white base makeup. But the patterns on the faces resembled the dazzle paint on a battleship more than the clownish makeup of normal mimes. They did, somehow, manage to accentuate the emotion of the performer.

The leader was a man of average height. His wore what was left of his blonde hair in a buzz cut. He was clearly balding up top.

A second man was built like a spaceball player, or a fighfighter. He was barrel chested. His arm and leg muscles were quite well developed. He wore a handlebar mustache.

The third mime was a woman. Her black hair was cut to stubble length below the ears. Her bangs were cut to just above her eyes. She was the same height as the leader. It was clear she was just as athletically developed as the barrel chested man. She just wore her muscles like a lady.

A tall barrel chested mime seemed to be watching the street and the crowd with a pair of imaginary binoculars. He pulled the binoculars from his face, and touched an imaginary throat microphone. While the audience couldn't hear him, he broadcast to the rest of his group, telepathically, "Possible sighting of the target. Stage right."

He gestured in the direction of stage right.

The woman mime stepped to the edge of the stage. With an exaggerated gesture she pulled an imaginary telescope from an imaginary pocket. She looked stage left, and looked back to the leader as if to say "Ok, Looking Right."

The leader marched up to the front of the stage. He gesticulated wildly, "No … STAGE RIGHT." He the grabbed the lady by the shoulders and bodily turned her in the direction of Emily.

The lady with the imaginary spyglass studied Emily for a second. She emoted to the audience, as she spoke telepathically "Target confirmed. 150 cm. Red hair. Pointed ears. Age… 12?"

The spy removed the imaginary telescope from her eye, and smacked it with the flat of her hand, before she plugged it back in her eye, "Ugh. She has to be late 20s. What the hell is with this scope?"

The tall mime seemed to see something with his sweep of the binoculars. He stepped up to the other two. He pointed with his powerful arms off in the back of the audience. He said telepathically, "CAT!"

The spy scanned in the area the tall main pointed. She seemed to be scanning another target. A black and white leopard spotted cat that was off to the side. Once again she emoted to the audience as she spoke telepathically, "This has to be on the fritz. That cat is registering as an inter-dimensional entity."

A leader looked suddenly concerned. He tapped the spyglass mime on the shoulder, and gestured for her to hand him the scope. He examined the cat. The cat was licking itself, but keeping on eye on the lady and her android. As he handed the spy back her imaginary telescope he emoted as he spoke telepathically, "No, the scope is working perfectly. We have a freelancer also working the crowd. How strange. This complicates things."

The leader turned to the barrel chested mime. He made a tactical gesture, while reiterating telepathically, "Give me a sweep of the other artists. He or she is probably disguised as one of them."

The binocular mime scanned the rear of the stage, and into the back stage area with his invisible binoculars. In his best stage-mime expression he shrugged and replied telepathically, "Nope. No high-level entities in the area."

The cat darted off to a man who was sitting under a tree in the distance. Emily and Quincy also approached the same figure.

The leader mime entered a gesture of deep thought. With wide sweeping movements, he directed the spy glass to the man under the tree. Telepathically he asked , "What do you read from that one?"

The spyglass mime screwed her eyes, and twisted an imaginary dial on her telescope, "Ishmael… Independent Operator… wait… target is engaged in a conversation with him…"

All of the mime's eyes turned to the lady, her android, and the artificer out in the park. The three mimes sat next to one another. The tall one covered his mouth. The short one covered her eyes. The leader covered his ears.

The leader turned his head for dramatic effect, and then he gestured as if he was pulling an imaginary cone from an imaginary sack. He put the cone on his ear, and had an expression that looked like he was happily catching side conversations around the square. Finally one conversation seemed to catch his ear. He exaggerated leaning his shoulders and head into catching this one particular conversation…￼

Emily chuckled, "…Growing up I had no magical talents whatsoever. Thanks again. I know you cut me a really steep discount on all the parts to keep Quincy running."

Ishmael chuckled, "Oh, at this point EHI has shifted your account over to the marketing division. You are like a walking billboard for our product. They are even talking about restarting the production line for System 7 processor cores. People keep calling in to request them, thinking that they can somehow have an android familiar."

Emily, "You will have a disclaimer that what I seem to do is a freakishly rare latent ability, right?"

Ishmael spoke in a reassuring tone, "My dear, the legal department wouldn't have it any other way. It's just human nature. Everybody wants to believe that they are that one person in a million. How is that new paper…"￼

The leader mime pulled the imaginary cone from his ear. He struggled to try to fold the apparatus up. He nudged the spy for help. She turned her head, but blinded she couldn't see a thing. So she nudged the brute with his mouth covered.

The spy seemed to have slipped her elbow in between a rib, because he brute immediately flunk his hands away from his mouth. He gestured in pain, at his side. He looked like he was about to scream, but he "caught" himself. He clamped his hands back over his mouth.

The brute looked at the spy, and gestured indignantly as if to say "Why would you hit me like that?"

It was then that, with an overly staged gesture, the brute saw the struggle the leader was having folding up his listening cone. The brute strode over to the leader.

The brute plucked the cone from the leader's hand and tried to smash it together. The leader stole the cone back, and gave the brute a stern finger wagging.

The leader placed the cone on the ground, as he proceeded to mime out, "this is a delicate instrument you can't just crush it." He then proceeded to mime how the cone was supposed to collapse down

The spy mime turned her head. She peeked at the scene through her fingers. Finally she snuck over to the cone, by which I mean, stage sneak for the benefit of the audience. She then gave the audience a conspiratory wink, and pressed an imaginary button on the imaginary horn. Her gaze followed the imaginary cone collapsing into a tiny shape.

The spy mime then snuck back to her original position. She hid her eyes like a child trying to hide that she was not really hiding her eyes.

The leader was still gesturing about how the cone was supposed to collapse, when the brute interrupted him with a tap on the shoulder. He pointed to the now folded cone.

The leader turned around. He feigned shock at first. But then  he caught himself, and dusted himself off. He strode nonchalantly to the spot on the ground where the cone was resting. But then he accidentally stepped on the cone.

After hopping around for a few seconds on one foot, he took the device, and dropped it back into the imaginary sack from whence it came.

He gestured for the other two mimes to form a huddle with him. The brute immediately complied. But the spy was still "covering her eyes."

The three pantomimed for another minute as the brute and the leader tried to convince the spy that now was not the time to cover her eyes. The leader pointed towards the lady with her android. The spy covered her eyes, and shook her head.

The brute made a gesture that pantomimed him whistling. From around a corner, down the street, and into the fire lane in front of the stage, came a fourth mime with an imaginary cart. The new mime was even shorter than Emily, with pointed ears as well. She huffed and puffed, and fell down seeming exhausted next to the cart, now parked in front of the stage.

The brute walked to the reluctant spy. He tried to lift her, but she seemed to weigh a ton. He waved for the leader to help. The leader was still pointing in the direction of Emily. The brute tapped the leader on the shoulder, and pointed at the spy, and the cart.

 The leader stopped pointing at Emily, and the two men tried to work together to lift the spy onto the cart. They failed. It seemed like the spy was nailed to the deck itself.

Finally the dwarf pushed the two men aside. She grabbed the spy by the hips. She lifted the spy onto the imaginary cart. The spy flailed and struggled through the entire process. Yet, incredibly the spy remained floating in the air about a meter above the street in front of the stage.

The audience, up until now, had let out a series of polite laughs at the antics of the mimes. But there was a loud audible "wow" with this latest part of the act.

The spy, now on the cart finally removed her hands from her eyes. She feigned shock that she was now floating in mid-air. The dwarf grabbed what must have been the hand-hold of the cart and moved out into the crowd. Onlookers gawked as the spy feigned like she was struggling to escape from a now moving invisible box.

The leader and the brute had so far been standing seemingly awestruck. Their eyes followed the entire scene. Each turned to the other and gestured as if they had never seen anything like this before.

The dwarf and the spy on the cart moved through the audience, and into the street in the back. They continued through the park. The people milling about moved aside at this astonishing sight.

The dwarf stopped the cart next to Emily and her android.

The spy was gesturing as though she were pleading to be let off. Her protests grew to the point that she became motion sick. She gestured as if she was retching sick all over the floor of the cart.

The dwarf opened an imaginary door on the side of the imaginary cart. Her eye followed an imaginary pool of imaginary barf as it leaked out the side. She then held her nose, fanned her hand, and looked away as if it had a terribly awful stench.

The spy stepped off the cart embarrassed. The dwarf turned back to the spy, and gave her a stern finger wagging. The much taller woman's shoulders stooped over, dramatically.

The dwarf thrust her hand into the cart and pulled out an imaginary implement with a long pole. She pantomimed the action of mopping. She then thrust the implement into the hands of the spy.

The spy took the implement, and still looked forlorn. The dwarf made the mopping gesture. The spy, reluctantly made the same mopping gesture. The dwarf pointed at the imaginary mess in the imaginary cart. But, she was also pointing directly at Emily, who was on the opposite side of the imaginary cart.

The spy stood upright, and walked over to Emily. She gestured furiously for Emily to take the imaginary mop. Emily was confused at first. The spy made the mopping gesture with the invisible implement, and thrust it into Emily's hand.

The spy looked at the dwarf with a hey she's not cooperating gesture. The dwarf moved sternly over to Emily. She picked Emily up. Emily felt how powerful the dwarf really was. Before she realized what was going on, Emily was flung bodily onto the cart. The dwarf slammed an invisible door shut behind her.

Emily couldn't see the cart, but it certainly felt like a real object. She banged her fist on an invisible wall. She yelled out in surprise, but no sound came out. She looked into the faces of the crowd, they thought this was all part of the act.

Emily pounded on the walls. And the harder she pounded, the more the audience was convinced she was a plant. She looked at Ishmael, pleadingly. As she did so, the dwarf had grabbed the handle for the cart, and took off down the street with her.

The leader and the brute pointed to the spy. The spy curtseyed, and bowed. She then redirected the audience's attention to the leader and the brute. They bowed.

As the audience applauded, the spy rejoined the mimes on stage. All three disappeared into another spectacle of pyrotechnics.

The flames then morphed into the letters FREE LETHIA, before they winked out.

The audience was applauded fiercely. Although some were a bit confused by what they just saw.￼

Ishmael was still clapping. As a mage, he was very impressed by the display. The invisible cart trick was probably something mundane, but he had to admit that he'd never seen something like that before. Including a bystander in the crowd was a stroke of genius.

It took a few seconds for him to realize that the mimes had completely disappeared. And that Emily had not reappeared.

He looked over to Quincy. But by this point in time, Quincy had taken off running down the street.

Ishmael threw on a cloak and scooped up Bastet. He leaned into the cat's ear and muttered something. The cat lept from his hands, and took off after the quin.

If anybody had been watching, they would have seen that by the time the cat had touched the floor, Ishmael's cloak was empty. It simply ruffled onto the floor.￼

The dwarf easily yanked the cart up a several flights of stairs. But she could see the poor woman in the cart was being jostled ferociously. She broadcast telepathically, "Are there going to be many more stairs?"

The barrel chested brute smirked, "Are you getting tired, Heidi? I can certainly give you a hand."

The dwarf hip checked him has he tried to grab the handle, "No I just don't think we'll have a captive left if I have to take another flight at speed."

The leader chimed in, "Karl, where is our extraction point?"

A fifth voice entered the channel, "Reactor is fired up, I am latched to an airlock on 195-730-0060."

The leader motioned for the part to stop. He checked the signage for what level they were currently on, "This is our floor, 200 meters to go."

The party stepped through a portal and into a utility corridor. As they entered the space, the automatic lights detected their motion, and turned on. Two figures awaited them in the portal to the next section of hallway.

One was a black and white leopard. It stood on its toes, ready to strike. Standing behind the leopard was a mage in a body length robe. He had a goatee, and as he locked his body into a combat stance, a golden framed monocle slipped from his eye and was caught by a strap around his neck. He spoke matter of factly, "Give me the girl, and you can continue unharmed."

The leader, the spy, and the brute formed a triangle formation to protect the dwarf and the cart. The spy reached across her hips with both hands and pulled out a saber and a dagger, seemingly out of thin air. The barrel chested man flexed his muscles. The leader formed a ball of energy at his finger tips and spoke, "Go old man. We don't want to hurt you."

The leopard emitted an ear-splitting roar. The leader, the spy, and the brute doubled over in pain. The dwarf whinced in pain momentarily, before she slapped a button under the skin near her ear.  The dwarf quickly realized this must have been a sound based attack.

The dwarf dropped the handle on the cart, and broke into a run across the compartment. Her tiny body rammed straight into the cat, and the momentum sent the cat flying off of the deck. It started flying straight backwards. The rotation forces of the station caused it to change direction midair. The beast crashed bodily into a wall like a sack of wet concrete, bending the steel and causing rivets to pop.

As the dwarf spoke, her accent was muddy. While her vocabulary was correct, she seemed to struggle to produce certain syllables, "So much for cats landing on their feet."

With the cat disabled, the other three quickly recovered.

The spy mime launched herself forward with her blades. Seeing the course in the air that the leopard took, she adjusted her own attack pattern. She closed the distance between herself and this strange new mage. She jumped seemingly 3 meters too far to the left. But her trajectory in the air carried her straight to the Mage's left flank.

In the blink of an eye she slashed with the blade and stabbed with the dagger. But she seemed to only catch an empty robe, and air. She altered her course to keep from hitting the wall, and landed on the deck with a roll.

The mage leered from over her shoulder, behind her. He muttered an incantation, and touched her side. A bolt of energy leaped from him, and her body writhed in agony. Her muscles spasmed uncontrollably. As her blades fell from her hands, arcs of electricity leapt from her hands to the metal blades, to the metal deck below her. She collapsed unconscious in a heap.

The leader let loose the bolt of energy he had collected. A purplish ray shot from his hands at mage. It seemed to strike the mage right in the chest. But like the spy's attack, it caught only air. An empty robe caught fire and rustled to the floor.

The leader swung completely around, knowing that was the most likely direction the mage would reappear. As he did so, he could see the brute had also anticipated this.

By this time the brut had the mage in his clutches. He picked the mage up, and threw him into a bulkhead. However just an empty cloak flattened on the wall.

The mage tapped the brute on the shoulder. The mime turned. The mage then hit him with the same agonizing bolt as he used on the spy. The brute collapsed to the ground, sparks of energy leaked from his body into the deck below.

The mage, the leader, and the dwarf entered into a mexican standoff. The leader and the dwarf exchanged a knowing look. Simultaneously the both leapt at the mage. The collided into one another after catching only air and and empty robe once more.

The mage next appeared at the top of the stairs. He whistled and called out, "Come, Bastet. Our work here is done."

The cat rose up, shook off her injuries, and leapt away.

The leader and the dwarf had followed the movements of the cat. But by the time they had turned back to see the mage, he was gone.

Also gone was their captive.

The leader swore, "Chaozeiverdammt!"

The dwarf read his lips, and gave him a forceful nudged. She reminded him telepathically, "Remember, no Krasnovian."￼

Emily was bounced around inside the invisible cart like a rag doll. The dwarf who was pulling it was so strong that she was seemingly oblivious to stairs, curbs, or other obstacles. On the smooth portions of the journey, she studied her assailants.

Emily realized that she was probably going to need to identify these people when she got out of this. She started looking at all of them for distinctive markings.

The paint on their faces seemed designed to thwart visual recognition systems. So she looked for other details. The men both had their hair trimmed short. The leader seemed to be balding in the front. The women had a hairstyle that was similar to the regulation hairstyles Emily was accustomed to at the Academy.

The four didn't run so much as forced march. They moved methodically, but quickly. Again, these were patterns that she would expect from military training.

Emily had yet to hear any of them speak. But they seemed to be exchanging information. Emily could see their expressions change as if the four were having conversations. So they all must be telepaths.

The person she had the best view of was the dwarf pulling the cart. The immediately striking feature on her was her size, of course. But the next most distinctive feature was her pointed ears. They looked very much like Emily's. Legend has it that children exposed to certain forms of Tegic at a young age get ears like that.

Emily also noticed that behind her left ear was a tattoo. It was originally covered with makeup, but exertion and perspiration had exposed it. The tattoo seemed to be letters and numbers. They were seemingly random:  CB632F.

For a moment Emily wondered if they were an android's serial number. But that would be preposterous. This woman was clearly sweating just like a human, she was acting completely independently. Androids are not built with super-strength. They are generally built so that a person of average strength can overpower them.

The cart stopped. And the battering against the walls mercifully stopped. Emily could see the four were suddenly facing off against a mage. And a leopard?

The cart seemed to deaden all sounds. Her screams. The sounds from outside. Which is why she was suddenly surprised to hear the jiggle on the lock. She looked over and could see Quincy had opened the side door. He gestured for her to exit the cab while the mimes were distracted. The two ran down the stairs, and then over to the closest police station they could find.

Chapter 3

The Escape

About the Author

￼

Sean Woods is a Computer Engineer who leads a double life as a story teller. His background in technology, defense, and science education are balanced by a sense of wonder, humor, and skepticism in his foreground. His writing is inspired most by Arthur C. Clarke and Douglas Adams.