The Acolytes of Crane (Theodore Crane, #1)(71)

‘I am not a map,’ he said, ‘I have not been programmed with the necessary information to navigate this ship to an unknown destination. However, I can navigate this ship to a destination of your choosing. Awaiting response.’

‘Okay, okay, take me on a course to that exit.’ I raised my hand to point at the left outlet of the black hole. It was giving off a grayish-green aura.

‘As you wish, sir. Can you please tell me the nature of your emergency evacuation?’ Ed asked.

‘That is none of your business, Ed,’ I growled, as my nerves were still badly shot. ‘I need you to try to get this ship to a place of safe refuse. We may have an enemy ship following us.’

‘I must make you aware sir: our ship has no advanced weaponry. We are limited to small arms, situated port side and starboard. Our best interest would be to evade and to hide.’

‘Wait, do you mean this ship can cloak, camouflage itself or anything like that? If so, turn it on now!’ I shouted.

‘Aye-aye captain,’ he said awkwardly, ‘that is why I asked about the nature of your evacuation. I need all variables to produce a sound outcome. Thank you.’

Ed activated the cloaking system, and our course was laid in to head toward the grayish-green detour that I had selected. Ed informed me that we were on course toward the Valeon Galaxy. As if I knew where it was.

My newly acquainted companion was skinny, mechanical, and he had a large ‘R’ upon his chest. He looked like a miniature version human, but with glistening metal skin. He was half my size. His eyes were bright orange, and his back had a conveniently located slim compartment that ostensibly functioned to store items of strategic importance. He was nowhere near the technological level of Nezatron, but he did look sleek and sophisticated.

‘Ed, are you Sepheran?’ I asked.

‘No, I am not sure what you are referring to. I am robotic. I am mechanical, and therefore incapable of emotion. We should get along, because where I lack in emotion, you will counter-balance nicely. I am observing some wounds to your body and some anguish within your mind. Can I please inspect you?’ he asked.

‘Ah, well, I guess it would not be the weirdest thing that has happened to me in the last month. So, yeah, go for it,’ I said.

‘What is your name, sir?’ he said, stopping to observe, and I told him I was Theodore,

‘That is a good name. All right, the full report. We have a number of problems here: your wounds are consistent with damage inflicted by an Ophanim. It looks like you were restrained at some point before the damage, as your mind shows signs of recent severe memory loss. You also have an abrasion to your cornea in your left eye. My guess is that you attempted to close your eyes to protect them when you saw the Ophanim guard firing at you, but you still sustained an eye injury. Have you been in combat, sir?’ Ed asked.


‘Yes, but it isn’t like what you think,’ I said. ‘Just battle simulation.’

‘This isn’t an interrogation. I am only trying to understand the nature of your evacuation so that I can provide you with optimal service. You are my master. I am robotic, and I am limited to my purpose. My goal is to help you in the event there is an emergency. Please comply.’

‘Well, I was still under a nanocom linked to a supreme being. I started questioning my servitude to him, and then I blacked out. When I woke up, there was a battle going on, and I escaped. That is all I know.’

‘That actually helps me more than you know. Now I know there is something wrong with your brain. I will attach these electrodes to your head, while I stitch this arm up, and as well, correct your cornea with my carbon dioxide laser.’

‘Wait, you can do all that at once?’ I asked, very impressed.

‘Don’t be irrational, this technology has been around for thousands of years. Yes, I can, and it will be quick, but not painless, so here is a sedative.’ Swiftly, using a robotic arm equipped with a needle, he struck me with an injection of diazepam, a sedative.

‘Wow—you little jerk!’ I yelped out from the stab of pain.

‘There, that should make things go a lot easier, just lay back on your seat, and I will fix you right up. Count to ten,’ he said.

“‘One, two, three, fourrrr, fivvvvvvve, sixxxthhhhh,’ I said, lisping. My tongue felt fat, and my lips numb. I fell asleep.”

I will place this tablet down for a moment. It is numbingly cold in my cell.

Now is a good time to eat my mush. I pick up this paper-like plate and sit by the door to eavesdrop. The food tastes funny, like soap, or earwax. These plates are treated with a sort of flame retardant, and I can taste something tainting this steaming bland food. I started overhearing conversations arising from the hallway outside my cell.

“Hey rookie! How is it going? You must be here to relieve me?” the veteran guard asks.

“Don’t you think I am beyond the rookie stage, sir?”

“It has been a couple of days since your promotion, kid—you’re still a rookie to me. Okay, I have someone waiting for me at my quarters. That’s right, this is your big day–your first shift alone. This guy is tough, and don’t let his skinny body fool you.”

“Alright,” the rookie says.

I can hear the veteran walking down the hall.

The rookie is on duty. I have a chance to get that nurse in here. I should do it now, while the veteran guard is preoccupied. You have to hand it to the veteran—he knows many of my tricks.