Turning, she peered into the common room that divided the front of the ship from the living areas. An assortment of comfortable seats, accented with silk pillows and cashmere throw blankets, were arranged around a gurgling aquarium that reached from the floor to the tiled ceiling. The brightly colored fish had been brought to their new home a few days before and seemed content to float mindlessly among their artificial coral reef.
Star crept toward Miko’s rooms, her back against the wall, aware that this was not something she would have done when she was Mech6.0. Spying, sneaking, eavesdropping. Androids were not made to be curious.
And yet, there she was, standing beside the doorframe and listening to the hiccupping sounds of a girl crying.
“If we could just talk to your father … show him how much we love each other…”
“He’ll never agree to it. He doesn’t think you could keep me safe.”
Dataran released a disgruntled sigh. “I know, I know. And I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you either. I just need time … I can get us a ship. It may not be anything like this, anything like what you’re used to, but…”
“That doesn’t matter. I would go”—she sobbed—“anywhere with you. But Dataran…”
“But what?”
Her crying grew louder. “Do you really want to live—your whole life—with a cyborg?”
Star dared to inch closer, shifting her weight so she could peer through the crack between the lavish mahogany doors. These rooms were completed. The ship was almost finished, but for some last detail work in the front end.
Scheduled departure was in two days.
She spotted them standing near Miko’s netscreen desk, and Dataran was embracing her, one hand cupping the base of her head as she buried her face into his shoulder.
Memorizing the pose, Star brought her hand up to the back of her neck and dug her fingertips into her own hair. Tried to imagine what that must be like.
“Miko, please,” Dataran whispered. “Your arms could be made out of broom handle for all I care.”
Star adjusted her audio interface, so loud that she could hear the rustle of fabric, his breathing, her sniffles.
“All I care about is what’s in here.”
He pulled far enough away that he could slide his hand around and place it over a chrysanthemum flower painted onto the silk of her kimono. Right below her collarbone.
Star followed the movement. Felt her own chest, her own hard plating, with the slightest bit of softness from her layer of synthetic skin. But no heartbeat, no pulse.
“You’re perfect, Miko, and beautiful, and I love you. I want to marry you.”
The words, spoken so quietly, were like a gunshot in Star’s head. She flinched and stumbled backward, pressing a hand over one ear. But it was too late. Those words, still smoking, were burned into her database.
Miko gasped and they pulled apart, spinning toward the door.
Dataran was there in a moment, whipping the doors open, and relief crossed over them both when they saw her.
“Oh, stars,” whispered Miko, placing her own artificial hand over her very real beating heart. “I thought you were my father.”
Faking apology, Stars took a step toward them and gestured at the lights that ran around the room, then at the control panel on the wall. She raised her eyebrows in a question.
It was a lie. She had checked all these rooms the day before, and she knew there was a time when she wouldn’t have been capable of the falsehood, even an implied one.
“Oh—yes, yes, everything seems to be working perfectly,” said Dataran, stringing a hand through his hair.
He seemed flustered, while Star felt broken.
“I should finish packing,” mumbled Miko, sounding no more enthusiastic than if she were moving into a prison cell, not the lavish yacht. Ducking her head, she shuffled toward the door. “So many more cases to bring in…”
“Miko, wait.” Dataran grabbed Miko’s wrist, but then glanced at Star. She turned to inspect the electronics control panel. “I have to try,” he whispered, lowering his head toward Miko. “I have to at least ask him…”
“He won’t say yes.”
“But if he did … if I could convince him that I would take care of you, that I love you … Would you say yes?”
Star absently punched her fingertips against the screen.
“You know that I would,” Miko responded, her hushed voice breaking on the last word. She sniffed and cleared her throat. “But it doesn’t matter. He won’t say yes. He won’t let me stay.”
Then her soft footsteps padded out toward the ship’s exit.
Daring to glance over her shoulder, Star saw that Dataran had pressed his forehead against the wall, his fingers dug into his hair. With a heavy sigh, he dragged his palms down his face and looked up at her. She noted darkening circles beneath his eyes and a paleness that seemed all wrong on him.