P Hillard - The Teller of Lies

“Does your, uh, offer, still stand?”

“It does. You’re finally looking at taking it up?”

“I suppose,” Michael said, as he looked around his room mournfully. “I’m not going to be on the ship, so it seems like a good a time as any.”

“And you’re sure? You were very resistant to the idea when I brought it up.”

“Yeah, yeah I am. I just don’t like people touching my stuff, you know?”

“Not really, I don’t have much… stuff. I guess you could count people walking around inside me. Is my body stuff?”

“I suppose so.” Michael just shrugged. Clive constantly stated he was human but was also acutely aware his mind was inside a starship. He seemed to completely ignore the contradiction. “Doesn’t the gut have bacteria and stuff in it though? Isn’t it the same thing?”

“Bacteria generally aren’t creating this,” Clive said gesturing at the room around him. “Or when they do, metaphorically, people get sick.”

“Fine, fine. Just don’t change too much, I have a system.”

“Total randomness?”

“It’s not totally random! I remember where things are. It’s what do you call it? Organised chaos.”

“I’m going to have the bots scrub every surface. Everything. Down to the metal. I’ll have them throw out that dirty pile of rags whilst I’m at it.” The cloud of microscopic machines forming the image of Clive adjusted his face into a look of disgust. The expression, combined with the projections straight cut suit and slicked-back hair, reminded Michael of more than one of his previous bosses.

“That’s my bed. I can’t sleep in the Merydian ones,” Michael said.

“That’s depressing. I’ll do you a trade. You let me clean this room with the bots, top to bottom, and I’ll have them put together an actual bed for you. With a real mattress and sheets. Something us humans are more used to.”

“You’re both not a human, and you don’t sleep.”

“A bed fit for a king.”

“You know what, fine. I would love to see this bed. I have no idea where you’re going to find one, but it has to be better than what I’ve been sleeping on. My back is killing me.”

“I can get one of the bots to look at that for you? Maybe crack your back?” With a timing too convenient to be an accident one of the machines that roamed the ship slithered into the room, the door opening automatically to allow it through. The machine flexed its tentacles, the tips rubbing against each other. It was as if it were cracking its knuckles, though it lacked any actual digits.

“No, no, that’s ok. I’ll cope,” Michael said. He found the bots a little unsettling. They looked to him like some deep-sea animal cast in metal. A little more alive than a machine should look.

“Suit yourself,” Clive said, his voice echoing from inside the bot. It reached down with a tentacle, scooping up an empty tray. “There’s a cart waiting to take you down to the shuttle bay. Everyone else is waiting on you, better get a move on. Besides, I have work to be doing in here. A lot of work.”

The Seeker wasn’t a pretty looking ship. Maybe it had been, once, when it had sat brand-new in a shipyard, it’s parts still gleaming. Now it looked worn, tired, its hull scratched and dented from the abuse it had taken. It was a miracle it was still space-worthy at all. It hadn’t been that long ago the Seeker had crashed into a planet, skimming across an ice field and landing in a chasm. The repairs were a testament to Kestok’s skill. It still had its basic shape, that of a cylinder rounded at one end, like a bullet, the control deck visible through the curved glass. At the opposite end of the cylinder was the set of four main engines, whilst mounted to the front and back in pairs were the boxy swivelling sub engines that allowed the ship to take off and land vertically.

The crew had been referring to the chamber where the Seeker was held as a shuttle bay. It wasn’t exactly accurate, the Seeker was much larger than a shuttle, and the chamber had enough space to fit another ship of its size. Michael had put forward the name ‘the hangar’ from the way that the Seeker was held in place by magnetic cables, just slightly above the doors below it. The pun hadn’t survived the translation it seemed.

There was a crowd gathering around the Seeker, all trying to argue with one another, their voices fighting until only a mangled din was audible. Michael recognised the noise. The people of Council space all worshipped a concept called the Rhythm, this idea that reality was a song, spiralling out from a single universal drumbeat. Council space was so vast, its races so varied, that despite the constant indoctrination from a young age, each world had a slightly different take on scripture. The noise he could hear was what happened when you got enough differing religious interpretations together, the people involved merging into a kind of sentient argument, wandering the halls and constantly adding to its mass, snaring others in its trap. Michael had felt like he was being hunted by these wandering crowds on occasion, his role as Knower making him the focus of several of the debates.

“Michael! About damn time, you were supposed to be here ten minutes thirty-two seconds ago,” Aileena said. She was standing atop the ramp that led up to the Seeker’s airlock, her arms crossed as she blocked the way.

“Just getting some stuff,” Michael said, shrugging the shoulder with the bag. For the first time, he realised that the movement of Aileena’s mouth matched what she was saying, even with the oddly translated time. He wondered if the psychic link was altering his perception. He pushed his way through the crowd, working his way up the ramp. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s what you asked for, volunteers. This lot are arguing over who gets to travel with the vaunted Knower and his disciples.” Aileena rolled all six of her eyes. “I hate that, disciples. It implies I’m following you like some little lost scorax-pup. Not my style.”

“No, you were following me for the money.”

“True, and look where that landed me? I’m not going to see a single coin. Mellok says his finances went up in smoke with his planet. So, that’s that then.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said. Despite Aileena being the one to hold a trigger to his back, marching him onto Mellok’s ship and off the Earth, he knew she was counting on this money to help rebuild the monastery where she was raised. It was hard not to feel bad for her.

“I don’t need your pity.”

“No, I know. I’m sorry.”

“You’re still doing it.”

“Yeah, I’m-” Michael began. He cut himself off before he could finish the thought. “I hear it now. So, you haven’t let anyone aboard have you?”

“No. Mellok wanted to though. You know he loves discussing this stuff. The Seeker is just going to be me, you, Mellok and Brekt. Anyone else who wants to go down will have to get a lift on one of the other ships making the trip. There’s plenty of them. More than I expected honestly.”

Michael nodded. A full two-thirds of the flotilla had offered to travel down to the planet. It was just shy of a thousand people all in. Michael hadn’t expected such a response, though he suspected the eagerness to travel to the strange artificial planet below less about his request, and more about snatching a piece of the potentially valuable find. He should have realised that the most devout would want to travel with him personally.

“Ok everyone, listen up. This ship, it’s full. No space.” It was a lie, the Seeker had plenty of crew cabins, and more than enough space to cram dozens into the cargo hold. “There’s going to be ships docking in the next few hours you can catch a ride on.” Michael had no idea if that was true. The noise from the crowd rose into a frenzy, it sounded like a wave crashing against rocks.