Chapter 3: Chapter 1 – Part 3

“Ow,” groaned the redhead.  “What is that... Are-are we under attack?”

 

“You can hear that?” Wren asked, without looking away from her screen.

 

“Yes!”

 

“I was playing a game.  Didn’t realize that was broadcasting over the PA too” —Wren cut her eyes to the side— “although does explain some of the echoes I was hearing.”

 

The redhead grit her teeth and grunted as she tried to sit up.  “I can come back later if this is an inconvenient time.”

 

“No no.”  Wren paused her game and stretched.  “That was just a fun run against some AI.  No penalty for quitting.”

 

“It felt like I was drowning in air.”

 

“Yeah.”  She folded her hands behind her head and reclined.  “I would be sorry about that except there was this whole thing earlier today where someone broke into my ship, and it’s just kind of soured my mood, you know?”

 

“Still, that was kind of-oh!”

 

“Hey, in case you didn’t know, you have stitches.”

 

“Got it,” the redhead whimpered.  “I’m not moving.”

 

“I don’t have any equipment for IVs, so you’re probably low on fluids.  I left you some bottles, and you’re gonna want to drink.  The manuals all said lots of fluid.”

 

The redhead nodded and opened one, but only sipped as best she could while still on her back.  

 

After a few minutes of quiet, Wren said, “I dig your sleeves.”

 

The redhead looked down at herself.  “My what?”

 

“The tattoos, I mean.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“They’re pretty.”

 

“Did you have to get me naked to pull a bullet out of me?”

 

“I guess I didn’t have to, per se.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“You probably can’t see, but I was making air quotes.”  The redhead grumbled unintelligibly for a moment, and Wren smiled.  “You’ve been shot a few times, huh?”

 

“None of your business, 吃屎.”

 

“Hey, there’s always cake in the airlock if you get hungry.”

 

The redhead chuckled morbidly.  “If you could just see your way to letting me off wherever you stop next, I promise you’ll never see me again.”

 

“I’m not sure that’s going to help,” Wren said, furrowing her brow.

 

“I can handle myself.”

 

“No, I have no doubts that you can take a bullet as well as anyone, but the next stop is right back where we were.  Luna Two.”

 

“Wha-Ow!”

 

“Hey, just so you know, you have stitches.”

 

The redhead weakly lifted both arms into the air, middle fingers extended, and flashed them in just about every direction.  Wren hopped up and grabbed the index from the shelf again, and toyed with more of the PA settings.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I think I need to rest.  Can you, like, turn down some of these lights?”

 

“That is a great question.”  Wren looked at the index.  “I bet I could.  You’d be surprised how much I can control from up here.”

 

“Considering I just survived having all the oxygen sucked out of here, I bet I won’t be ‘surprised’.”

 

Wren nodded slowly.  “Good point.”

 

***

 

Wren grunted through her last sit-up, and then fell back flat against the mat.  “...and then I don’t think I got it cut again until I was... I don’t know.  Nineteen?”

 

“Thrilling.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t know.”  She took a long drink from her bottle and stretched.  “I think I just like it shorter, better.”

 

“How long have you been out here by yourself?”

 

“I haven’t been by myself,” she scoffed.  “I’ve got Mr. Cat.”

 

“And have you ever given your cat a fifteen minute monologue about the history of your hairstyles?”

 

“He helps me workshop all of my material.”

 

“I’m sorry.  Backup.  Did you say your cat is named ‘Mr. Cat’?”

 

Wren shrugged as she sat up.  “Seemed appropriate.  He doesn’t seem to mind.”

 

“You know, I actually hope he told you that he doesn’t mind it, because that would be less crazy.  ‘You hallucinating a talking cat’ would make perfect sense right now.”

 

Wren sat very still and looked around.  “I’m not hallucinating you, am I?”

 

“Feel free to open up that bulkhead door and find out!”

 

“We’re all mad here,” Wren laughed.  “I’m mad.  You’re mad.  Mr. Cat is definitely mad.”

 

The orange tabby sat down in the doorway and stared at Wren with an intense look somewhere between annoyance and boredom.  After a few seconds, Mr. Cat scowled at her and turned back down the hallway.

 

“Oh yeah.  He’s mad.”

 

“Seriously.  Let me out of this thing already.”

 

Wren grabbed a towel and ran it over her head furiously.  Her arms ached, but the burn was nice.  “I love the high after a good set.  I’d ask if you work out, but I think I already know the answer to that.”

 

“Oh thank God.  I thought you were masturbating.”

 

Wren laughed as she stepped into the galley and stretched.  “No, but now that you mention it—”

 

“Let me out!”

 

“Hey,” Wren said, as she smirked at the speaker mounted in the corner of the room and shook her head.  “Remember how you broke into my ship without my permission?”

 

“What do you want?  An apology?”

 

“For starters, yeah.”  A pit formed in the middle of Wren’s stomach, and she steadied herself on the counter as the pit shifted upward and forward.  “Oh...”

 

“What’s happening?”

 

“Have you never re-entered n-space before?”

 

“旧飞船!  How old is this ship that you don’t have dampeners for that?!”

 

“This was top of the line military,” Wren grunted, “a generation ago.”

 

Mr. Cat let out a long, warbling growl, and a second after that it was over.  The Daedalus gave the usual groans and squeaks as it passed out of the intense pressure of t-space and into the vacuum of n-space.  As soon as her legs felt ready for it, Wren started heading for the cabin.

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“You know, I think you were on to something.  I’ve missed talking to people.  It’s weird, but even just telling you about the boy and the bubblegum was weirdly cathartic.”  Wren strode into the cabin and flopped into the pilot’s chair.  She absently tapped at the control panel, and the ship began sorting through its post-jump checks.  Systems reported back in rapid succession.  “I did used to talk to Mr. Cat a lot, but he’s not nearly so fun as you are.”

 

“I’m glad to hear I rank above an animal.”

 

Wren paused, tilting her head, and looked back over her shoulder.  There was a nagging feeling that the voice had sounded different somehow.  “I also thought about writing an AI to have someone to talk to, but every time I did I started seeing ways that could end up with me getting spaced and the Daedalus leading an uprising of machines.”

 

“Can’t have that.”

 

Hairs stood up on her neck.  “What... are you...”

 

One of the post-jump systems checks blinked red, reporting a failure in the aft circulation conduit.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I’m busting out of here.”

 

Wren frowned incredulously and turned to the display on her left.  The redhead was front and center on the fourth camera, hunched over a gap where she’d uprooted a piece of the deck plating.  “Don’t do that.”

 

“Go ahead.  Suck all the oxygen out again.  See if I care.”

 

“You have no idea what that does.”

 

“I have a good feeling.”

 

“Seriously.  Stop messing with that.”

 

“Ahh,” the redhead laughed.  “I like the sound of you scared.”

 

“I’m not scared,” Wren scoffed, “but you really don’t want to mess with that panel.”

 

“This is gonna be good.  This is gonna be good.”

 

Wren grumbled and flipped through, first, one index, and then another.  She was reaching for a third when she heard a swooshing sound behind her, and a chill ran down her spine.

 

“Did that work?  Holy shit, did that open a door?”

 

Wren spun in her chair and stepped softly across the room.  Not toward the galley, but the small room beside it that she rarely used.  “You flushed the toilet.”

 

“That’s it!?”

 

“Yeah.  I was worried you were gonna get these things to start pumping backwards or something.”

 

“Can I do that from here?”

 

Wren blinked, and paused while her mind raced.  “No?”

 

The disembodied voice grumbled wordlessly, and Wren went back to her chair.  The post-jump check was reporting 99.8% success, with the open aft conduit accounting for the rest.  Close enough, she thought.  She sat back in her chair, preparing to make her usual call, and paused just before attempting to create the connection.

 

“Hey,” she said.  “Listen.  The adults in the room need to have a conversation, so I’m gonna mute you for a bit.”

 

“What?  No!  Don’t—”

 

The PA system cut off abruptly with a few deft taps of her fingertips, and Wren smiled in self-satisfaction.  She looked around, once again feeling in full control of her domain, but Mr. Cat gave her an extremely unimpressed harrumph and sauntered away with his tail straight up in the air.

 

“Didn’t ask for your opinion anyway,” she said, trying hard to match her cat for sauciness.

 

Once the Daedalus established a connection to the comm buoy at LN-462661, she leaned back in her chair and put her feet up.  After a few seconds, the main display in front of her faded and slid behind a new window where a thin, bespectacled man was frowning at her.

 

“Hello Julien.”

 

“Hello again,” he said.  “Ready for your price list?”

 

“Am I that predictable?”

 

“There’s always hope you’ll see reason.”

 

Wren rolled her eyes and smiled.  The updated price list popped on a third window, listing the most recent prices for a lengthy list of metals and other rare elements.

 

“While I have you, I’ve been authorized to offer you 125 and a quarter million shares.”

 

“125 is less than you were offering before,” she droned, without looking away from the list.  Aluminum and copper had dropped precipitously.

 

“But the shares make up that difference and more.”

 

“Not interested.”

 

“Wren, this is a good offer.  Your scanner is amazing and we all know it.  It was years ahead of its time years ago, and still is.”

 

Wren laughed lightly without looking away from the list.  “You’re not any closer to figuring out what I do than you were when I first came to you.”

 

“Maybe not, but it’s only a matter of time.  Be smart, Wren.  Sell this before it’s worth nothing.”

 

“P—”  Wren paused, trying very hard not to react to a sound behind her.  “Clever girl.  Look.  I know what—”  The toilet flushed again.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Nothing?”

 

The toilet flushed again.

“Was that your toilet?”

 

“...Yes.”

 

“Since when do you work with someone?"

 

"I don't."

 

"Your toilet is flushing."

 

"That is, as I understand it, a thing that toilets do."

 

“Look.”  Julien took off his glasses and frowned at her as he grabbed a tissue.  “It’s a good deal, Wren.”

 

“Pass.”

 

“128, and—”

 

Wren reached over and killed the connection.  Tungsten had made a sharp climb up the price list, as had titanium.  Sometimes that meant a surge in military construction was coming, but her ability to predict markets was as strong as her ability to read Mr. Cat.  Which, she thought, was silly because there are no words on cats.

 

“Oh my god,” she said gravely.  “Maybe I am going crazy.”

 

The toilet flushed behind her again, and Wren nodded as she turned on the PA system.

 

“Alright, alright.”

 

“Oh, so now you want to talk?”

 

“Mr. Cat chose licking himself over my company, so...”

 

“So that means it’s my job to entertain you?”

 

“Pretty much,” Wren said.

 

“That is the laziest name for a pet that I have ever heard.”

 

“I have no problem admitting that I spent exactly zero seconds thinking it up.”

 

Behind her, the toilet flushed.

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