Mech6.0 returned her attention to the ship, as it rose up off the ground and hovered on the magnetic field beneath the hangar. The thrusters burned white hot for a moment, and the ship rose higher and higher, breaching the ceiling before it swooped gracefully up toward the starry night sky and disappeared.
As the cheers died out and the crowd began to disperse, the musicians began packing up their instruments. The enormous ceiling lowered in on itself and clanged, shutting them in tight again and, not long after the space had cleared, the lights shut off with three loud bangs, plunging the mech-droids into pitch blackness and silence.
Four minutes passed, in which Mech6.0 was still remembering the view of the stars, which she knew were somehow always there and yet always out of her reach, before she remembered the girl’s lost card.
Her sensor light flickered on, creating a circle of pale blue light around her. Her neighbors swiveled their heads, perhaps in curiosity, but more likely in disapproval, but she ignored them as she cast the scanner down toward her treads. Extending her arm, she pinched the card between her padded grippers and held it up.
It was thin, but stiff, like a sheet of aluminum, and one side was scrolled in fancy, shiny lettering: Celebrity Holos, Collector’s Set, 39th Edition, 124 T.E.
She turned the card over and a flickering, pale holograph rose up from it and began to rotate. She was looking at the likeness of a teenage boy with shaggy black hair and a relaxed smile. He seemed vaguely familiar.
Mech6.0 felt her fan stutter in an odd way, and wondered if there might be something wrong with her internals. If this kept up, she was going to have to alert the maintenance mechanic. But this thought was fleeting as she opened the hollow storage compartment on her abdomen and tucked the holographic card inside. Maybe she would return it one day, she considered, although her statistical calculations told her that it would probably never happen.
Chapter 2
Two days passed before Mech6.0 was given a new assignment, along with fourteen of her fellow mech-droids. She stood in line with the others as Tam Sovann, the shipyard’s owner, paced around the project’s underside, inspecting the landing gear and discussing the plans with their new client, Ochida Kenji. Ochida-shìfu was a middle-aged man with a little facial hair and a very expensive-looking suit. His ship was a recreational yacht, luxurious and spacious enough for those who could afford luxury and space. Mech6.0 scanned the ship while she waited to receive her instructions, plugging the information into her database. A 94 T.E. Orion Classic, one of the most expensive ships of its day and one of the most popular for refurbishing over the past decade. The name Child of the Stars had been painted near its nose, but had faded with time.
“The body is in good shape, Ochida-shìfu,” said Tam, “but we’re looking at a full-engine rebuild to bring it up to code, and remodeling the interior to include all the most modern amenities will require that we take it down to the paneling. I am confident we can meet your deadline, though, while maintaining the ship’s original character.”
“Your reputation speaks for itself,” said Ochida Kenji. “I have no doubt she’s in good hands.”
“Excellent. Let me introduce you to the engineer who will be heading up your rebuild. This is Wing Dataran, one of our brightest stars.”
Like a programmed reflex, Mech6.0’s sensor swiveled toward the group. Though Wing Dataran had been working at the shipyard for almost a year, their paths had never crossed. The Triton had been much too big, and she had never been assigned to any of his smaller projects.
But she had known about him. She had connected him to the net database the first time she’d seen him—as she did with all of her human employers—but something about him had kept that profile in the forefront of her memory. A young hardware engineer, he had been hired straight out of tech-university where he had specialized in spaceship engines with extracurricular work in internal design and mechanical systems.
For reasons that didn’t fully compute, she frequently found her sensor seeking him out in the crowd of androids and technicians, and every time she spotted him, her fan did that strange little jump like it had when she’d seen the holograph. Only now did she realize that there were similarities between Dataran and the holographic figure. All humans were similar, with their two eyes and protruding noses and five-fingered, fleshy hands. But Dataran and the boy in the holograph both had pronounced cheekbones and slender frames that suggested a particular grace. And they had both made her fan sputter.
What did that mean?
Dataran unclipped a portscreen from his tool belt after they’d finished their introductions. “I’ve already begun working up some initial plans,” he said, showing something on the screen to Ochida, “but I want to discuss with you any special requests you might have before I finalize it. Particularly those new luxury features, which can put added stress on the engine. I want to make sure it’s fully…”