There are particular words that Humans ascribe to the feeling of fear. I have heard that it's like eating too fast, which gives you a lump in your gut. I have also heard that it's like getting stabbed over and over. Then, there is the description of the breathless fire. The feeling starts in the gut but moves up the chest. It creeps all the way to the back of the throat. Some even say they feel nauseous. You feel a constant need to swallow. You get hot and cold and even tingly. These terrible words describe anxiety and despair in the larger context of fear.
Do I know fear? Let me tell you of another of my earliest creche memories. Even before we could talk, we were learning. When we tried to walk, we crashed into furniture, our nurses, and each other. It was a chaotic, happy time interrupted only by abrupt noises from above. The noises were vague booms and crashes. We were subjected to it for so long that we forgot about the noises. Our creche Niwa, our caretaker, did not. One day, the bombs finally hit us. When the bomb’s whistle warned her of its approach, our Niwa was ready for it. In the midst of a cataclysmic upheaval she swept us all into a corner.
I remember her eyes and nostrils were so wide the blood vessels popped out. She covered us up, even her tail protecting the pack. The sting of burning pieces of metal raked across any uncovered limb; the dust clogged my nostrils until even clawing at them did no good. Unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to cry, I felt it, the breathless fire. We didn’t know it was a bomb. We didn’t know the humans hated us. We only knew that the world had fallen in around us. And that’s how they found us, all curled together protected by the body of our Niwa. Not all of us survived. Worse, it was not the last time it happened. I remember the bodies of my friends, torn and pierced, eyes glazed and unseeing, mouths agape in a desperate search for air. So yes, I know fear. Humans describe it better, but I know fear.
This officer’s animosity did not scare me. Failure does not scare me. Pain does not scare me. Death, however, is a particular fear for me. It is a shameful fear. I am a Lieutenant in the Space Navy. Am I not supposed to be, well, brave?
"Lieutenant Ak. Chief Hales will accompany you. Report to your vehicle."
Smartly, Ak turned, and the Chief fell in beside her. The officer's voice fell away as they passed gigs, shuttles, and little maintenance craft. The two went so deep into the launch bay that silence was loud. There were ten brand-new AI space fighters. Every pilot got a brand-new vehicle. The gleam of their newness was almost startling to Ak. No bluntness with these beautiful and dangerous creations; they were shaped like arrows ready to be shot from the bow of the ship. Laser and projectile cannons were tucked into the maneuverable wings. All except Ak's fighter. Humans would slide into their vehicle feet first, reclining into the seat. Ak had prepared for this discomfort, even to the point of wearing a strap that pulled her tail into a position that would be less painful than sitting on it. It worked a little. She had even been prepared to ask the doctor to cut the tendon at the base of her tail to prevent crippling degradation. But all her fears melted away as she saw the new vehicle.
Chief Hales watched the young Macrodiae with a measuring eye as she beheld the engineering marvel that was her vehicle. At the touch of her paw, the whole front of the ship lifted into the air, presenting an upright pilot seat rather than reclining. Her tail would lay behind her, and her seat was similar to an oblong Macrodiae dining stool so that her legs would settle on each side. She would tuck her long feet into stability pockets, and the whole top of the vehicle would fold down snugly around her. Her ship's projectile cannon lay along the bottom of the hull. Adjustable laser turrets sprang from the sides and rear of the beautiful creation.
Ak recognized the suit of Hard Lock armor that passively waited next to her vehicle. The Chief watched Ak's eyes flick toward it, then tip her head. Her ears flattened as she noted there were no other Hard Locks present. She knew very well that a Hard Lock was the armor only a Dolphin used. The appearance of an elite special service member could only be a harbinger of danger they had not informed her of.
Chief Hales was unperturbed by her displeasure.
"A Macrodiae has never joined with a Human-based AI. There is a possibility that this will go flapdacked and upside down."
Ak blinked, glancing at the vehicle.
"Upside down?"
Chief growled.
"Not literally Rookie. I'm speaking metaphorically. If something goes wrong and you can no longer control the vehicle, I am responsible for making sure no one gets hurt."
"How could that occur from simply accessing an AI?"
"Your conceptualization of joining is incorrect. In a Macrodiae fighter, you connect with an AI that gives you information to act on. A human AI fighter is much faster because joining means your personality and the loosely defined personality within the fighter's hardware will mingle, taking elements of both to create the final form of AI and a tight bond between pilot and vehicle. There is no distinction between pilot and AI. The connection you will experience is more than just virtual. You need to trust that your AI cares enough about you to save you. Your AI must know you care enough about it to allow it to do so. With practice, you will develop the ability to move together, effecting logical responses in less than one millisecond."
Ak shivered. She was not sure she liked this idea of "joining." Chief Hales sighed.
"Rookie. None of us know what exactly will happen. This uncertainty is the risk that you are going to take. Either you connect or you do not. If your personalities clash, I'm here."
Hot pieces of burning metal. Macrodiae limbs twitching in the final throes of agony. This time it could be dying Humans. She reached out a paw to almost touch the vehicle but then let her arm drop again.
"Why have the trainees not been taught this before now? In the course itself?"
The voice that answered her was not that of the Chief. It was the voice of the Captain of the SM-2.
"We have had bad results with trainees focusing too hard on what could go wrong, Lieutenant. By receiving information just before joining, their minds are only focused on how it will feel to join and not on all the scary crap that could happen. Thus we only get rejections and not catastrophic failures."
Ak whirled around to stand at attention, tail firmly on the floor behind her.
"I am not afraid to fail, Captain."
"I'm glad to hear that because of all the trainees here, we need you the most. Successfully working together is going to soothe a lot of ruffled feathers. Having you in that cockpit will be an invaluable addition against those who refuse to believe the war is over. Together we can save lives. Will you try for us, Lieutenant?"
The warm, confident voice was soothing. The Captain looked directly at her jaw, not into her eyes. He was using good Macrodiae manners. He utilized the direct request, which was the purview of a respected commanding officer. Ak's breathless fire faded, replaced by something akin to confidence. Go in with purpose, come out with pride. She snapped off the unnecessary tail strap with a deft move and dropped it with distaste on the deck. She saluted.
"Yes, Captain!"
The Captain leaned down to pick up the detested piece of equipment as Ak lifted her foot to the hydraulic mounting step. With a faint smile, he nodded at Chief Hales and walked away. Chief waited until Ak had settled herself in the seat before lifting himself to check her straps. He dug in his pocket, tossed a handful of something into his mouth, and offered her one.
"Candy?"
Ak flattened her ears to the sides. She swallowed heavily. Anything sweet didn't sound good right now.
"No, thank you. Macrodiae do not taste sweet as Humans do. Our tastebuds are much different."
He shrugged at the forced arrogance and hopped down. While he got into the Hard Lock armor, she settled further into the comfortable seat, letting her tail rest on the pad behind her. The helmet she slid over her face fit properly, though even now, she disliked her ears being restrained. The helmet sealed around the thin furless skin of her throat. The earbuds settled into place with two thumps, and she felt a tingle up her spine, knowing that the AI was scanning her brain. The comm was crystal clear when she triggered it.
"Um, Chief?"
"Yes, Rookie?"
He turned his armor so that it was facing her. He folded those massive metal biceps comfortably. She held up her wrist with its surgically implanted port.
"How do I…?"
"Stretch out your arm to the dash. The AI will sense your intent and plug into the port. And close your eyes. Reduction of external senses can ease the transition."
Forcing the flutter of nerves firmly to the back of her mind, Ak stretched her arm out and closed her eyes. A lead from the dash reached out. The connection was made. The vehicle folded up around her. She felt secure. The dash lit up without her even thinking about it.
For Ak, the SM-2 faded from existence. Something. Some...one...sat down with her. Not just next to her but with her, as if they were sharing the same seat. She distinctly remembered the genetic alterations that allowed her to spend extensive time in Human environments. So disorienting, those operations. She was whirling through time and space while sitting there. All her nerves lit up, though not with the pain of genetic alteration. The Universe itself expanded, but where was the AI? For so long, she sat and waited until she thought her heart might burst. Oh no. I've done something wrong, thought Ak frantically. Where is it? I'm lost! Eons later, a whisper reached her.
*Hello Ak. I'm Princess.*
Feelings of being unique. Of being that precious necessity to someone. Ak shared the loneliness of being "one," grounding them both instantly. The term "Princess" to Ak was not just a title now; it was an ideal. Princess was better than everyone else. She was faster, more knowledgeable, more flexible. They were, together, the best. It wasn't just a possibility. It was a certainty. Princess' voice got stronger, but Ak and Princess communicated far more rapidly with feeling than with words alone. The awareness of the vehicle, of being on the SM-2, of reality itself, came back. Now Ak could get to work.
Opening her eyes, she blinked her pleasure rapidly, and she heard Chief's tense voice over the comm.
"Rookie? Report."
Ak took a deep breath.
"Her name is Princess."
Ak thought she heard a choke through the comm.
"Princess. That's a new one. Well, let's get to work."
*Work. What is work?*
"Work is...um, a way to accomplish a goal."
"Rookie?"
"Sorry, Chief. I'm trying to talk to Princess."
"You don't have to do that out loud, Rookie."
"I don't?"
*I don't?*
Ak blew shortly through her nose in exasperation.
"Wait. I'm getting confused! Hang on. Just be quiet for a moment ok?"
Both Princess and Chief Hales were quiet while Ak took a steadying breath. Unlike Hales, however, Princess "felt" resentful. Carefully, Ak formed a thought process focused only toward the AI.
Can you hear me?
*Yes!*
Good. Do you understand "work?"
*Is a goal like a job?*
Yes! And we have a job to do. Our job is to protect people, both Humans and Macrodiae. To do that, I need to learn this new ship. Can you help me do that, Princess?
*Of course!*
Ak recognized the flood of endorphins that her brain released. Sneaky brat AI. But perhaps it wasn't so bad to actually LIKE her partner? Ak chuckled. Yes. The AI was so much better than any Ak had used on Macron. Human imagination and personification had worked wonders. She settled into her seat while the endorphins did their job.
She and the other trainees who had joined successfully worked hard to learn about their ships and AIs. As days turned into weeks, it appeared there would be no disaster. But time and tide wait for no Macrodiae. It was only three weeks until they were all shoved nose-first into a reality check.
Sleep was valuable, and all the trainees engaged in it whenever possible. Today was a lucky day. The barracks shelving echoed with heavy snores and shifting bodies for almost eight whole hours. Dreams crumbled at the first wail of the klaxon summoning the crew to defend the ship against a pirate attack.
Ak had the edge over other trainees in that she had already engaged in battles in Macrodiae fighters to protect the outlying colonies. She was well used to waking up while on the run. On the SM-2, anyone not fast enough for Chief's liking found themselves flung bodily out the door, dressed or not. Ak's disadvantage came in moving through the cramped corridors of the ship. The "Gadget" was never meant to be a carrier but a mobile repair vehicle. The engineers had filled her entire Zed deck with replicator machines. Nevertheless, she needed to defend herself, and from the way the SM-2 shuddered, she was under heavy attack now. This was where the speedy little fighters came into play.
Ak crouched and ran as well as she could through antiquated lock-style doorways. She tripped. She banged her head and shoulders. She fell behind. When gravity failed, she was relieved. Now she could move! Ak was dismayed to see some of her fellow pilots helpless in a grav-free environment. They had no idea how to maneuver. She careened through the hallways, avoiding other crew with ease. Only seven other trainees made it to the launch bay. Ak had bounced off a bulkhead to project herself to her vehicle when a wave of white-hot streaks of plasma tore through the black outside the bay. Ak burst out in a cold sweat when she recognized them as Impactor missiles. The ship's sensors also recognized them. The massive sliding lock door that separated the launch bay from the rest of the vessel squealed a rusty protest as it shot into motion. Scarred from hundreds of similar encounters, would it hold up against another engagement? Ak screamed at the other trainees to get in their vehicles. But the single trainee behind her was flailing frantically and inefficiently in the doorway. Ak's mind calculated the door vs the flailing trainee.
He won't make it...
Executing a perfect 180-degree flip off someone else's fighter, Ak arrowed back toward the guillotine of steel, which was picking up speed as it prepared to shut. The missiles hit the ship just as she collided with the trainee, sending him spinning out of the doorway. Unfortunately, helping the trainee arrested all her momentum. Caught nowhere near a surface, she had no way to propel herself out of the way of the door. The shockwave of the Impactors vibrated through the air, stealing her breath and temporarily obliterating her delicate hearing. The laser shield separating them from open space flickered out of existence. For one moment, Ak desperately clung to hope as the outrush of air began to pull her inexorably into the hangar bay. But it was only enough to save her life. The door streaked toward her and fifty thousand tons of crenelated steel slammed shut on her tail.
There was a bone-jarring crunch and a fiery pain that shot up her backside. She didn't want to look. She squeezed her eyes shut. She refused to feel the pain, forcing it to the back of her mind. Shut it down! she screamed mentally. Don't think about it now! She could hear the hum of the shield re-engage with backup power, and the gravity came back on. She flopped to the deck like a dying fish. Shaking, she crawled toward her ship. She passed Chief's Hard Lock armor, wishing Chief was in it. He'd know what to do. But he wasn't. No pithy or sarcastic phrases prodded her. This time, she'd have to save herself.
Whether Princess knew Ak was hurt or was responding to a request from the bridge, she maneuvered her bulk through the other ships to get closer to Ak and extended her hydraulic lift as far as it would go. Ak could now feel the blood gushing from the stump where her tail had been. She wanted to cry, but she didn't. So, instead, she set her teeth together and grasped the hydraulic lift to drag herself to her feet by main force. The lift helped her up, and she hung on, just managing to crawl inside the ship itself. Princess didn't wait for Ak. Instead, she snaked the connection cord out to lock into the port in Ak's arm.
*Ak!*
Ak winced, still trying not to think about the pain that was just around the corner.
"Princess," she whispered mentally, "First aid mode."
Amid waves of disorientation and peaks of nausea threatening to send Ak into sweet oblivion, Princess accessed medical information for appropriate equipment. A hopper opened, dumping injectors and styptic pressure bandaging into her hands. She stabbed herself first with the painkillers and clotting agents. Then, finally, she had to look. Blood had begun to congeal around the jagged fur, and a remnant of bone stuck out. The once smooth and muscular tail was nothing more than a ruined stump. Her hands shook for long moments while she looped the bandaging around it. Her teeth clenched against a vicious growl that rose up in her throat as her viselike control over pain recognition began to fail. Her vision blurred as the painkillers finally took effect, and she swallowed heavily.
The bandage contracted. There was one sharp lance of pain and the blood flow ceased. Her breath rasped in and out of her lungs in relief. She swore a Macrodiae word so bad that even Princess blanked in shock. The guttural snarl of agony was untranslatable, but Princess understood the feeling. It was reserved for the deepest of wounds. A memory of pain so deep it would scar her very soul. Ak lifted her—what was left of her tail—behind her and slid into position. Around the little fighter, the SM-2 was trembling under the shock of almost constant bombardment.
"It's time to go to work, Princess."
*No! You are injured!*
Ak lost her temper and slammed a fist onto the control panel.
"I will not sit here while my fellow pilots die! Close up and get ready to fly!"
The ferocity of Ak's command caused Princess to obey immediately, without further protest. Ak slid on her helmet and verified a full fuel tank and weaponry. If she gave the command to launch a little too forcefully, it was only understandable that Princess backed away from the other vehicles so rapidly that she scraped her hull several times in the effort. Ak felt the helmet seal around her neck. The flow of fresh air soothed her raw throat as she was pressed back into the folds of protective material by the force of the launch.
Now, she could forget everything except the maneuvers, the bridge directives, and the satisfaction of watching those little ships coming against them explode into motes of metal and energy. The effortless communication meant Ak didn't even have to look at the heads-up display. She knew what Princess knew, and they flicked here and there, fired lasers, loosed a missile. Then it was their turn to dart in behind another fighter and back them up in an ever-shifting pattern around the SM-2.
Pirates were an insidious danger to both System 76 and all humanoid colonies. They were made up of the outcasts from the wars, stealing enough technology to make their own ships and hiding out on the fringe planetoids. Core Worlds had not attempted to track them down. It had not been a priority. However, the newly created Central Worlds presented a whole new threat to the pirates. They relished every engagement proving their fractured personalities had twisted their minds. In short, they were insane.
It wasn't until Ak’s division had returned, successful and filled with all kinds of pride, that the ramifications hit Ak. She could be hurt. She crept cautiously out of her vehicle, thinking only to walk to sickbay when reality intervened. The feeling of the phantom weight of her missing tail gave her the confidence to walk forward with a normal stride. Her stump brushed ever so lightly against the deck of the launch bay, sending a tingle across her skin. To her detriment, she did not acknowledge the warning. She overbalanced, pitching forward right onto her sensitive muzzle. Ak spent a long moment with her face on the deck. Then, with a grunt, she heaved herself up again, but no amount of determination could keep her upright and moving in a straight line. She wove back and forth, drunk with blood loss, while jags of pain screamed up and down her backside until her energy finally just drained out of her. For the first time in Ak's memory, she slumped and gave way to despair. It didn’t take long for the medical staff to come to her aid as they searched for hurt pilots, but seeing row after row of injured sailors in sickbay did not help. All Ak's pride ran out of her. What kind of a Macrodiae was she? How could she take such joy in the death of her enemy while all around her, the crew was suffering? And she had felt joy. She could not deny her heart surged every time she had destroyed those enemy ships. Not only that, but she was also not the invincible statue she had visualized herself to be. If she could be hurt, she could die! She was not worthy of Huom's respect and trust. No. She was nothing but a weakling. She would go home. She would reassess herself. Princess would understand. Ak just had to talk to her. Together, they would figure it out. Miserably she dragged herself from sickbay, making fervent promises to rest in her bunk if they would let her go. Ak was not lying; she had meant her promises, just not immediately. But there was one person who she could not manipulate.
"Where the hell do you think you're going, Rookie?"
Ak slowly continued to make her way toward the launch bay. Her voice sounded robotic even to herself. Her ears were not only sideways; they drooped without a lick of spirit left.
"I am a failure."
Chief humphed through his nose. The expression was eerily similar to Elder Huom.
"So much for not being afraid to fail."
Ak winced, ears stiffening backward at the words being thrown back at her. In her pain-fogged delirium, her words stopped making sense.
"I have to—I cannot—I must...fix this failure!"
"You literally helped save the ship, Ak. Tell me again, how that is failure?"
"I'm a failure as a Macrodiae. I am...I am vulnerable."
"Ak, everyone has moments of weakness. It's only natural. You pushed through the weakness. That's what counts!"
Ak slammed a fist against the bulkhead in a pathetic fit of pique. To her incredible shame, she blubbered.
"It's not good enough! I am an ambassador for my whole race. Do you know what that means, Chief? I have to be stronger, faster, more flexible, more intelligent, more perfect than any other trainee. In fact, more than any other single human in my social strata! I have broken Macrodiae moral law, I have allowed myself to be weak. It is inexcusable!"
A small voice from in front of her caused her to slow her already crotchety pace.
"You saved me at your expense. I do not consider that weak Lieutenant. I will remember that and consider it my duty to repay you by saving someone else's life."
Ak swallowed hard at the ensign she had shoved away from the launch bay door, feeling her nose tighten with emotion. She bobbed her head meaningfully at the ensign and moved on. Chief's voice again assaulted her senses.
"Ak. When you stop using a fighter. What will you be then? When you retire? What will you be?"
Ak stopped. Her bandaged tail twitched uncomfortably.
"I don't know," she said quietly.
Hales shook his head. "Rookie, you aren't thinking. Try again."
"I...can't."
Slowly, she shuffled around until she faced Chief.
"No, that's not right. I can explain my mind. I just never thought that far ahead."
The Dolphin sailor's solid hand landed gently on Ak's steeply sloping shoulder. Ak flared her nostrils at such a human expression of comfort.
"You don't have to think about it Ak. What are you now?"
"I'm a Central Worlds Space Navy pilot."
As Chief spoke again, his voice became a little scathing, a little pleading, but as always, Chief.
"And do you think the feelings you have developed will just go away? Do you think you'll just wake up one morning and think, well, that's over! Do you? Can you overcome years of ingrained training to protect, serve, and be the best you can be? Can you stop protecting your—no our—people?"
Her fur slicked down tight at the thought of leaving the military. What else could she do that had the same impact? She got up every morning ready to spring into action, her mind and body thrilling to the challenges of living. Her tail flared with fiery pain as she unthinkingly tried to lean back on it. Even the pain was...good. It reminded her she was alive. Could she just forget all this? That she was the embodiment of hope? Her ears lifted and wiggled.
"No," she said out loud.
"I will always be a space sailor. Even when I retire of old age. I can never excise that part of me."
Hales heaved a mighty sigh. His face registered that peculiar expression of knowing precisely what she was thinking.
"Welcome to the race, Lieutenant. Macrodiae and human alike."