“Yes, but when your shuttle took off, it engulfed the creature in flames. Though not intentional, it still had the effect of making the natives believe that we had defeated their god.”
“Their god? So you knew about the giant squid-thing before we went down? That—that’s why you wouldn’t go down to the surface. That’s why we had a giant fucking robot!” After seeing the sucker wounds on Okeke’s arms and torso, Jela was almost vibrating with anger. If it weren’t her own ship, she’d spit on the floor. “You put them in direct danger, because you inadequately briefed us for the mission.”
Behind the diplomat’s back, the captain suddenly broke into a huge grin like she’d just won a hand of poker. “Oh dear. Regulations require me to report irregular briefings to the Consortium representatives.”
“What?” Diplomat Foenicul spun in the air, but by the time she’d completed the turn, Captain Afaeaki had again resumed a solemn glare.
The captain spread her hands as if she were helpless. “I wish I did not have to, but the trip will come under such scrutiny with the arrest of my officer. You understand, of course.”
For long moments, Diplomat Foenicul hovered in the air, the only sound the hiss of air circulators. She snapped her wings, once and then twice. “Punishment must occur. This cannot go unremarked.”
“Of course.” Captain Afaeaki bowed her head. “Security, confine Chief Engineer Dedearian to quarters.”
And this was why Jela loved her captain. Confined to quarters? If she’d been really angry, it would have been the brig. But this? This wasn’t a punishment. It was a reward.
Jela strode down the ramp and was kind of glad that she reeked of sweat. Diplomat Foenicul fluttered back, wrinkling her nose, and gave Jela ample space to approach the captain. “Permission to see to my wounded teammate, before reporting to my quarters.”
“Granted.”
She left Diplomat Foenicul fluttering in the middle of the shuttle bay and went back into the shuttle. The doctor had Okeke propped up against the side of the shuttle and was talking on her comm. She looked up when Jela came in, Sal close on her heels.
“She’ll be fine. Gonna have a heck of a scar, if she wants to keep it, but she’ll be fine.” The doctor kept her hand on Okeke’s wrist, measuring her pulse. “Got a team coming to take her to sick bay.”
Jela settled onto the floor next to the junior engineer. “Sorry about this.”
“No worries.” Okeke tried to smile, but pain made it into more of a grimace. “My son’s going to be upset that I didn’t bring a rock back.”
“He’ll be happy you’re alive. Trust me. Besides, you fought it off with a rock. That’s got to be good enough, right?”
“It’s nothing compared to a giant robot.”
Jela snorted. A rock. A giant robot. Maybe it didn’t matter how you fought a giant squid, just so long as you fought.
TEAM ROBOT
* * *
BY MARY ROBINETTE KOWAL
Robots are awesome. Why? Because we’re tool-using creatures, and a robot is the ultimate tool. It can be crafted to do a specific job, and do it with precision. My dad used to work for a textile company, which could take your measurements via light, shoot them into a computer, and then have robots cut out a custom-tailored garment for you in minutes. For me, that epitomizes why robots are cool, because we can design them to do anything.
THE BOOKCASE EXPEDITION
by Jeffrey Ford
I started seeing them during the winter when I was at death’s door and whacked out on meds. At first I thought they were baby praying mantises that had somehow invaded the house to escape the ice and snow, but they were far smaller than that. Minuscule, really. I was surprised I could see them at all. I could, though, and at times with great clarity, as if through invisible binoculars. Occasionally, I heard their distant cries.
I’m talking about fairies, tiny beings in the forms of men, women, and children. I spotted them, thin as a pin and half as tall, creeping about; running from the cats or carrying back to their homes in the walls sacks full of crumbs gathered from our breakfast plates. Mostly I saw them at night, as I had to sit upright in the corner of the living room couch to sleep in order not to suffocate. While the wind howled outside, the light coming in from the kitchen illuminated a small party of them ascending and descending the dunes and craters of the moonscape that was my blanket. One night they planted a flag—a tattered postage stamp fastened to a cat’s whisker—into my knee as if I was undiscovered country.
The first time I saw one, it was battling—have you ever seen one of those spiders that looks like it’s made of wood? Well, the fairy had a thistle spike and was parrying the picket legs of that arachnid, bravely lunging for its soft underbelly. I took it all in stride, though. I didn’t get excited. I certainly didn’t go and tell Lynn, who would think it nonsense. Let the fairies do their thing, I thought. I had way bigger problems to deal with, like trying to breathe.
I know what you’re thinking. They weren’t a figment of my imagination. For instance, I’d spotted a band of them running along the kitchen counter. They stopped near the edge, where a water glass stood. Together, they pushed against it and toppled it onto the floor. “Ya little bastards,” I yelled. They scattered faint atoms of laughter as they fled. The broken glass went everywhere, and I swept for twenty minutes only to find more. The next day, Lynn got a shard in her foot, and I had to burn the end of a needle and operate.
I didn’t see them constantly. Sometimes a week would go by before I encountered one. They watched us and I was certain they knew what we were about in our thoughts and acts. I’d spotted them—one with a telescope aimed at my nose and the other sitting, making notes in a bound journal—on the darkened porch floor at night when we sat out wrapped in blankets and candlelight, drinking wine and dozing in the moon glow. I wondered, Why now, as I trundle toward old age, am I granted the “sight,” as my grandma Maisie might have called it?
A few days ago I was in my office at the computer, trying to iron out my thinking on a story I’d been writing in which there’s a scene where a guy, for no reason I can recall, just disappears. There’d been nothing strange about this character previously to give any indication that he was simply going to vanish into thin air. I can’t remember what I’d had in mind or why at some point it had made sense to me.