Chapter 39

Chapter 39

At a certain point in my life, youd think that Id get used to things being stressful.

Oh, hello again. I didnt see you there. I was busy complaining.

Honestly, I think that I might complain a little too much. On balance, Ive got it pretty good. Warm place to sleep, air that isnt toxic or irradiated - air in general, really, which is mostly an orbital problem - steady food, job security. Well. Security job.

A lot of people on the surface dont have what I have.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

I can send a basic vacuum operations drone shell out to the asteroid belt, grab something that looks like its maybe within a sixty ton limit, haul it back, feed it into my foundry, wait a few days for material processing to occur without melting my entire home, then order a manufactory to turn it into structural panels and a few bits and bobs, and set a construction gantry to assemble those pieces into a whole new deck of the station that I can nap in. This will take some time, but, functionally, only a few button presses. I mean, Ill have to do some loping to get around to the places to press the buttons. And Ill have to explain why Im making a new crew level when I already have my pick of roughly three hundred and six decent nap spots already. To myself. And probably also Ennos.

On the surface, if someone wanted a place to sleep, theyre going to need to first make sure theyre not in a region thats toxified in some way. Then theyll need to gather materials, either by hand or rough tools, or with one of the few golden age artifacts still out there. Then, assemble those, by hand again, while fending off attempts to eat you from local wildlife, attempts to harvest your organs from local fleshmongers, and attempts to wire you into an eigensphere by local art collective AI systems. And yes, Im leaving out a few things here.

Then you need to sleep, hopefully somewhat secured, and hope none of those problems migrate to you. Or that no one steals your stuff. Or that youll have enough energy when you wake up to go through a similar process just to get food.

Its lonely on the surface. Settlements are impermanent things. And for all that Im keeping the world from ending, sometimes I dont know if Im keeping it together very well.

Its lonely up here too. Less, now, though. So theres another thing I cant complain about. I cant even complain about the food being awful anymore. My dwarf wheat is coming in, so I can even have *bread* soon for the first time in my entire life.

Ennos keeps telling me that the foods Im eating are bad for me. I know they mean well, which is why I am politely ignoring all those words.

The long suffering point I was going for here was that I probably ought to get used to being frustrated by new situations.

Old situations, I can cope with. Biting into undifferentiated ration mass is unpleasant. But at least once Ive done it around one hundred and eighty thousand times, I get used to it. Targeting surface threats is a screaming terror of panic that I hit the wrong target, misfired a weapon, or even just that intercept fire or mild atmospheric turbulence would send a shell careening off course. But the accidents and failures never undo the good of the successful hits, and I *know* that, in my tiny cat heart.

New situations are kind of different. I dont know if Im supposed to be disappointed or worried or confused at any given time.

RIght now Im going for all three. Probably leaning toward the last two? Its a toss up.

I should probably just do my best human interpretation, sit back, kick my paws up, and enjoy the feeling of novelty. I get, honestly, kind of a lot of novelty in my life, compared to how long its been. But that doesnt mean I should squander the feeling.

The people on the other end of the communications link are saying something again. I should probably stop mewling to myself like an impudent kitten and actually pay attention.

Oh. Ive been making calls today.

Ive known for a while that Im not really alone up here. Though no one else has anywhere near the capabilities I have. The orbitals are cluttered, scattered, out of touch with each other, and just barely scraping by. And honestly, I dont have a lot of ways to help them.

I try, in the same way I try to help the surface, to shoot down anything that threatens a larger number of lives. But the stations scanner capabilities have been well, theyre not as good as I thought they were, and theyve been crumbling ever since I took that plasma ejector shot to one of the upper decks.

Upper? Or is it lower now?

Station orientation is driving me insane.

Yes, Lily. Ennos cuts into my mental space. *Thats* whats driving you insane. The AI brings me back to paying attention, casually telling me Please pay attention. The translation database is mostly ready now.

Were all here together. And everyone seemed equal parts shocked and happy to see me.

Except these dumbasses.

Enough! I bark, cutting off their conversation. No killing anyone! Void, what are you, kittens?!

They startle, and stare at the screen, before one of them looks back to another. I think its mad at us they say.

Yeah. But what do we do? She broke the code. Goon Two replies in a quiet voice.

Goon One makes a full body bobbing motion, which Ennos whispers to me is analogous to a nod. Yup. Gotta go out the airlock.

Shouldnta talked to an outsider. Goon Two shakes their head.

Are you kidding me.

She hadnt been afraid because I owned the only functional battle-ready space station, shed been afraid because of one of their stupid cultural quirks about talking to other people?

I was almost offended.

Also, I may have just blown her trial by chiming in here, because before now, arguing that I was a cat and therefore not people might have been a valid legal defense.

Okay. I say, letting Ennos decide whether taking the edge off my voice was a good idea. You arent allowed to talk to me. But you know Im here, and you can talk to each other. I dont voice my opinion that this is an idiotic cultural loophole; the kind that tends to form after hundreds of years of survival under certain terms leaves descendants complacent and ignorant of the original meaning of rules. Or at least, I dont mean to. Ennos filters it out, judging by their aggregated muttering. So youre okay with literal interpretations. And you say, because she talked to me, she needs to go out an airlock.

Goon One looked over at Goon Two. Its listening to us pretty well. Does that count? Goon Two just shrugged.

Alright. I said with a hiss, looking away from the tactical command AR Id been glancing at. This is no longer a conversation. This is a threat. You will wait eight minutes before sending her to her doom. You will make sure she is capable of surviving at least five minutes in hard vacuum. You will not injure her in this process, and you will damn well take those bindings off. I pause. If you do not, then you should know that you are *not* hidden from me, and I *am* better armed that you can even begin to imagine. I *will* begin demolishing your home around you. You know where I am. You know I am not joking. Do you understand me?

Goon Three had fled the room by this point. Goon One was staring at the screen, looking like he was *about* to nod, but being held back by some stupid cultural hangup about communicating with outsiders. Slowly, he turned to Goon Two.

Go get her a spacesuit. He said.

I cut the communication feed. This isnt my mistake, but Im fixing it anyway. Thousands of years to learn and people are still killing each other for the stupidest reasons imaginable. Theres a bitter taste on my tongue as I start stalking through the hallways of my station, and the lingering thought in my mind that maybe I should just stop trying to help, if this is how everyone is going to act.

The thought doesnt last. I know what I am, and what I should be. Ive always known, since the first thing I remember my mom saying to me.

Im here to help. Even them.

Jom! I call over the local comms. Retrieval mission! High priority, coordinates on the tac-web. Make sure your interior is secure, youre picking someone up!

I feel bad for the poor woman.

Shes going to need to get used to ration. Because I will not be sharing my chili today. And I really hope being furious at humans improves flavor, or Im going to get even angrier.