Stars Above (The Lunar Chronicles #4.5)(66)
The fact is, an unpredictable android is a dangerous one.
Was she unpredictable?
Was she dangerous?
She felt the shudder along her wires as soon as the ship lifted up off the ground to another uproarious cheer.
Her energy was running out.
She switched her internal settings to power-saving mode, and the world dulled to shades of gray, the sound in her ears a jumbled hum as her audio receptors stopped sorting and cataloging the input.
She set a hand on Dataran’s shoulder and climbed to her feet. The movement came with a jolt of pain that threatened to cripple her. She grimaced and waited a moment before waving good-bye.
“Where are you going?” Dataran pointed at the ship. “It will only be another few minutes. We can take a hover together.”
Her fan whirred faster. On her third day at the shipyard, she had made up a home address that was near to his and they often left together when the workday was over. Sometimes Miko joined them too, and Star thought she and Dataran might have plans that didn’t involve her, and yet they were always so good to not suggest she was an unwanted intruder.
Those hover rides, simply listening to Dataran talk and laugh, were some of the best moments of her short existence.
But this time, she shook her head. She needed to find a charging dock, and quickly.
He did not expect her to explain, an unexpected benefit of being mute, and so he simply nodded, still frowning, and let her go.
But Star had not gone a dozen steps before she felt the power drain from her legs. Warnings pounded into her consciousness, but they were too late—she was falling. Her head crashed into the hard floor and she lay there with her arms twitching so hard she worried they would pull themselves right out of her shoulder sockets.
She picked out Miko’s and Dataran’s yells even from the chaotic roaring in her ears, and then they were above her, tenderly turning her onto her back. She scanned their faces, recognizing shock, fear, panic, uncertainty. Dataran was speaking but she couldn’t comprehend. Miko was pressing a hand against her forehead.
Her processor began to flicker back to life, programs gradually rebooting themselves. Though she still had no control over her legs, she could once again make out Dataran’s concerned questions, raining down on her like shooting stars.
Then Miko laid a hand on Dataran’s arms and said, with calm authority, “Bring her some water.”
With a frantic nod, he pushed himself to his feet. When he had gone, Miko sighed, her gaze full of sympathy as she tucked a lock of Star’s hair behind an ear.
“The fit seems to have passed, but just lie still.”
Star withered from embarrassment to know that Dataran had seen her like this.
“I’m sorry if I offend you by asking this,” Miko whispered, glancing in the direction Dataran had gone, “but … are you an escort-droid, Star-mèi?”
Eyes widening, Star tried to sit up, only succeeding when Miko tucked an arm beneath her shoulders and lifted her. She realized the thought of Miko knowing her secret terrified her, but Miko’s smile was kind. “Don’t worry. I don’t think Dataran has noticed anything, and I won’t tell anyone. You are very … convincing.” Her lashes dipped, and she murmured, “But like recognizes like.”
Star scrutinized her. Like recognizes like. The words repeated in her head, but she couldn’t seem to compute them.
Then Miko reached a hand for the back of her neck, where Star had noticed that strange dark spot a dozen times since her return, always hastily covered up. “I’m not an android,” she said, shaking her head. She cleared her throat and dared to meet Star’s gaze again. “But I am a cyborg.”
Cyborg. The definition was in her database, but Star doubted its accuracy. Miko? Lovely young Miko?
Miko glanced around to make sure no one was near. They had been sitting near the paint booth, which offered a good view of the ship’s takeoff without all the crowds, and no one was paying them any attention.
Sitting back on her heels, Miko pulled up the wide sleeve of her silk kimono. Star watched, mesmerized, as Miko dug her fingers into the flesh of her elbow and began to peel the skin back. A perfect, thin layer of flesh rolled down her am like a tightly knit sleeve, and beneath the skin was a finely crafted arm made from lightweight carbon-fiber polymer, the same material Star’s body was constructed from.
As soon as Star had seen, Miko rolled the skin back into place, rubbing at the synthetic until the edges had merged seamlessly back together.
Gaping, Star pointed to where Dataran had gone.
“He knows,” said Miko. “I told him as soon as … well…” She stared down at her prosthetic hands, now clutched together in her lap. “As soon as I realized that I was falling in love with him. I thought for sure it would put an end to it all. That he wouldn’t want anything to do with me once he knew. But … he isn’t like that, is he?” A happy flush bloomed across her cheeks, but was smothered as she glanced out toward the rows of ships in all stages of incompletion. And down the lane, the Child of the Stars. “Not that it matters. As soon as the ship is done, we’ll be leaving, and nothing will change my father’s mind. I know he thinks it’s for my own good, but…”
Star listed her head, urging her to continue.
“We’re leaving the Commonwealth because he’s afraid that I’ll be selected for the cyborg draft if we stay. I know it’s by random selection, and the odds are so small, and yet he’s convinced that the draft skews toward female cyborgs, and young ones at that. I don’t know how he got this into his head, but … That’s why he bought the ship, why he’s so insistent that they finish it as soon as possible. And when it’s done … I’ll have to say good-bye.”