Nebula's Music (3 page)

“Maybe the engineers in the cybernetics company do not let them stay conscious long enough to find out.”

Angstrom massaged his chin as if he were deep in thought. “Sounds dangerous, if you ask me. I don’t know, Neb. Do you truly want to know what happened to your former self? If it were me, I wouldn’t want any unpleasant memories. What if something awful happened?”

She squeezed his hand. “Yes, but you must experience the good with the bad. What if it leads to something wonderful? I cannot pass this up. I have a great yearning to know where and from whom I came. These feelings are flooding my body like an addicting elixir. I do not want to have my memory erased. I have always sought truth. To let the emotions go would be to shun knowledge itself.”

Angstrom stared at her like the words he had left to speak were the most important words in the entire universe. His voice wavered as if he’d swallowed a bad sip of juice. “Then don’t tell anyone you don’t trust.”

Radian

Although Nebula had an inner clock ticking away, the seconds felt like minutes and the next shift trudged along like the very first mission to Mars, before the discovery of optimum flight speed. She worked on the main control deck, computing all the possible trajectories of the rebel freighter and the Gryphonite Warbird before their impromptu rendezvous. She sat between Angstrom and Oso as they did their own calculations in preparation for a course to Titus Three. Although they were both fully immersed in their tasks, Nebula’s orders took only a fraction of her attention and she found her gaze drifting to the captain’s office, where he talked with Venus concerning the rebel passengers. Their fate hung on his decision and Nebula couldn’t help but feel curious. Using her high-definition sensitivity for audio input, she could hear the words being said.

“I know you don’t want me to turn them in, but they are dangerous, Venus.” The captain let out a huff of air. “We can’t keep them aboard when we visit the alliance negotiations. Gryphonite ships will be there and I don’t want them blown up by revenge-crazed rebels. Now, I know Titus Three is not the ideal place for them, but that’s where they will have to stay until we can return back to Earth.”

“They will not get a fair trial. You know as well as I rebels are condemned for life.”

“They knew that when they signed up.”

Venus’s voice fell to a whisper, and Nebula had to boost her reception. “But sir, in all honesty, what if the rebels are right? What if peace gets us nowhere while others die?”

“I have to believe treaties and negotiations will prevail over full-fledged war.”

Venus offered no response. The air fizzled between them, and Nebula could almost feel the static electricity. How two humans could change the vibrations in a room, she did not know, but whenever the captain and Venus were together, the room buzzed, like it was filled with cosmic photons.

The captain continued in a more sensitive tone. “I understand your relatives were taken by the Gryphonites, but in no way does that justify revenge.”

“You think this is about me?” Venus’s words were so cold they stung Nebula’s ears. Then Nebula heard something crash to the floor. She estimated by the sound of the weight hitting the deck and the glass breaking, it was the captain’s ship in a bottle, with a probability of two point three eight percent to one.

“This is bigger than both of us.” Venus sniffed. “Go ahead, Carl. Turn the rebels in and see how your conscience reacts to that.”

The door to the captain’s chamber slid open and Venus burst out. She passed Nebula without so much as a greeting and took the main elevator to the decks below. Although Venus was kindhearted, Nebula knew the captain was right. Babysitting the rebels was like holding a ticking time bomb. It was far too dangerous to fly them to the treaty negotiations or keep them on board.

Although Nebula thought the captain made the right decision, she prepared herself for the worst. She was acutely aware of how he felt about Venus and calculated the odds were in Venus’s favor he would change his mind before the ship reached Titus Three.

The captain emerged from his chamber and walked toward her as her fingers blurred over the keyboard, typing calculations at the speed of light. “How’s the data going, Nebula?” Although he tried to hide it, his voice sounded tired. The skin under his eyes sagged and he slumped forward as if resigned to be a heartless commander.

“Very well, sir. I have thirty-five possible trajectories for the rebel ship originating from five different star systems, and seventy-eight possible origination points for the Gryphonite Warbird.”

“That’s good.” But Nebula sensed the captain wasn’t listening at all. “Why don’t you take the rest of the hour off, okay?”

Nebula crinkled her eyes in a quizzical expression. “Sir?”

He rubbed his head. “I’m giving the entire flight crew a break for the next hour. I need some time to be alone, to think.”

She almost told him what she thought right then and there. But whether or not she held the probabilities in her hand, she was in no position for decisions such as that. Besides, she shouldn’t have been listening in the first place.

“Very well, sir.”

“Thanks, Nebula.”

She rose with the grace of a Russian ballerina and walked to the elevator, pressing the button for Deck Eighteen, where the prisoners were kept.

“Don’t get into too much trouble now, you hear?”

Nebula whizzed around. Had he noticed which deck she requested? Was he aware of her scheme? She scanned his face, but only saw amusement. Captain Ritter was just being himself. She’d logged thousands of his illogical quirks during the five years aboard the Flightship Freedom, and still she couldn’t understand him any better than her first day.

Nebula heard the whish of the lift as it came to collect her. There was a chiming beep and the threshold appeared behind her. “I will certainly try not to, sir.”

* * * *

The containment cells on Deck Eighteen were protected by a trio of guards. Nebula knew she’d have to construct a ploy to gain access to the prisoners. As the elevator eased and the doors swished open, she approached the main entry point with confidence and authority.

The guard nearest her spoke first. “Good afternoon, Nebula.”

Nebula computed the appropriate response pitch level that would sound casual and unthreatening. “Good afternoon, Corporal.”

“What brings you to this dark place?”

Nebula’s eyes shifted to the row of cells. “I am writing essays for an Earth journal exploring the motivations behind radical behavior. I thought these rebels would be excellent test subjects for my questions.” She had to overrule several erroneous warning flashes in her eyes in order to get the lie out. When she had a spare moment, she would have to shut off her superior judgment system.

Doubt registered in the guard’s eyes and Nebula resisted the urge to squirm. She kept her position and looked at him directly.

“Go ahead and try to talk to them. We all have, and we’ve got nothing back but spit and cursing.”

“I understand your concerns, Corporal.” Nebula’s voice flowed, mild and smooth. “But my research would be greatly improved with any exposure, whether it is positive or negative.”

“Very well.” The guard pressed a code into the panel alongside the threshold and the glass doors whizzed open. He followed behind her as she peered in cell after cell, trying to find the one man who drew her in like a planet to a star. “We had to put them in separate cells because we were afraid they’d start to plan a way out. This way, no one knows what the others are thinking.”

“It is a safe assumption, considering the odds.” Nebula recognized the leader from the viewing chamber and he stood to watch her walk by, his eyes shifty like mercury. The woman with pink hair sweated in the cell beside his, doing pull-ups from the bars above her head.

Nebula passed several more cells before she came to the man with the deep-set blue eyes. He sat on the floor holding his head in his hands. She resisted the urge to run to him and press her face against the glass. He looked up just then as if he sensed her presence and froze in place, an odd mix of reluctance and pleasure in his gaze. “This cell, Prisoner Twenty-six. This man here will do.”

“All right.” The guard punched in a longer code than the first and the door to the cell disappeared. He took a step to follow her into the cell, but she waved him away.

“You know as well as I that I can take on three men his size.”

The guard backed up. “I’ll be right down the hall if you need me.”

She stepped into the chamber and nodded for him to bring up the barrier once again. The guard regarded her with a steady gaze and mouthed the words, “Be careful.” She waited until he disappeared before turning around.

The man stared at her like he knew she’d been coming all along. Their gazes locked, blue on black, and she stood unmoving. She felt uncomfortable as he studied her presence, his eyes watery with tears. Unpredictably, he rose from his position on the floor and walked toward her, closing the distance. Although combat tactics flashed through her circuits, she overrode each one and allowed him to take her into his arms. He held her close, smoothing over her back in gentle strokes, and buried his face into her hair.

Nebula had never been embraced. The sudden rush of contact flooded all her senses, both peripheral and emotional. She felt like her body was on fire, liquid gold running through her veins. She nestled her face into his shirt, taking in the feel of his body close to hers. She wanted to know if he had the same rush of pleasurable feelings and looked into his eyes for her answer.

He must have seen something strange in her gaze, or it was what he didn’t see, what she lacked, that brought him back to the moment. His eyes chilled to a frosty cerulean and he released her.

“I’m sorry.” He turned away. “But you look so much like her. Damn it, you even smell like her as well.”

Nebula did not want to be let go. The feeling of need ached so strong and so strange. It was as if the black hole inside her vanished with his touch. The aching pain that racked her system had been satiated, like he was the final piece of her identity, the human she once was and the person she craved to be. When he ripped his affection away, the soreness came back in full force, throbbing within her like an open wound. “Who? When you see me, who do you see?”

The man fell to his knees and covered his face with his hands. “It doesn’t concern you. You aren’t her.” He emphasized the last three words as if he was trying to convince himself.

“Mirilee?”

The man glared at her in shock as if she spoke heresy. “How do you know of her? It’s impossible.”

“It is a strange occurrence, but when I play the piano, I see her memories.”

The man gawked as if she claimed she was Mirilee reincarnated. “They said there would be no traces left. When the body is reconstituted, it retains nothing of the former life.”

“Please.” Nebula held out her hand. “I need to know what happened.”

He refused her offer and left her fingers dangling in midair. “If you see her memories, then you already do.”

Her hand felt naked and alone. She took it back and held it close to her side as if it were hurt. “That is incorrect. I see partial memories and only when I play certain pieces.”

“Makes sense in a twisted way.” His words were filled with bittersweet pain. “She loved to play the piano.”

“Please, sir.” Nebula took a step toward him. She had an unexplainable desire to comfort him, to hold her arms around him and feel his skin against hers. But protocol dictated even one step would be pushing it.

“Not ‘sir.’ Radian.”

“Radian.” When she voiced his name, it was like coming home. A thousand words could not be so satisfying. She took another step, but he shriveled away into the corner as if she were poisonous. His reaction to her stung like a slap in the face.

With a flick of his wrist, he buzzed the warning panel for the guard. Nebula looked at him like he’d betrayed her. “Why?”

“Because I can’t deal with this right now. Go back to your duties and forget about this.” His words cracked. “Forget about me.”

Nebula could hear the guard’s footsteps as he jogged to the cell door. She had only seconds at best. She regarded him and, for the first time, felt a sadness twitch her stoic face. Her eyebrows arched and her eyes beseeched.

Radian’s face softened a bit, making him look vulnerable. “Play ‘Moonlight’ Sonata if you want answers about your past. But leave me alone.”

The door disappeared, the outside world intruding as the guard sprinted into the room. “Nebula, is there a problem?”

“No, Corporal.” Her voice was once again flat and composed. “We are done here.”

She walked out of the cell, feeling disappointment weigh her down. Every time she looked at the man, she felt a little more human and she was tempted to gaze into those deep blue eyes forever to discover what that truly meant. But she knew any more attention would be considered excessive and thereby suspicious.

“See, I told you those vagrants and lowlifes wouldn’t speak,” the guard said after the cell door materialized.

Nebula stared at the spot where Radian sat beyond the wall. He was so close, yet it felt as though he were parsecs away. “You were correct. He would not.”

Diamonds

Nebula was surprised to see Venus pacing by the door to her room. The elegant Trilithian never said more than a formal greeting to her in all her five years on board the ship yet here she was, waiting for her to return. Her face glowed sea green this time, reflecting an anxious alertness.

“Nebula, I’ve been looking for you.”

For Nebula, it was poor timing. She was itching to get back to her Steinway and play “Moonlight” Sonata, but common etiquette dictated she address the guest, whether or not they had spoken much in the past. “My apologies. The captain dismissed me early today and I used the free time to do some long-needed research.”

She realized Venus wasn’t interested in where she had been when the rainbow beauty changed the subject. “Can we speak privately in your chambers?”