Starmind Chapter 18 (Patreon)

I lost another few minutes after turning my external sensors back on, then again when I forced myself to remember the moment I came back. But the third time I woke, I managed to face my shame without shutting down entirely.

The gunship floated beside us, so close that I could easily send out a tendril of Hull to connect us. Temeri must have piloted me in, and she’d done a really good job of it. My docking collar — which I’d taken from New Me — was already aligned with that of the gunship, so once I’d made contact, I got to building a secure tunnel between the two.

Around the ship was a small cloud of frozen gases and liquids, fragments of hull and structural materials, and small items that had been ejected along with the atmosphere. I tried not to look too closely at anything; I wasn’t quite ready for that yet. And while I couldn’t see the top of the ship, I knew that it was full of craters and holes.

And once I’d assimilated some of it, I knew that it was entirely empty of air. There was no chance, no hope, that anyone on board had survived. I almost blanked again at that realization but managed to hold on.

“I killed them,” I told Varlanda and Temeri, who were now together in the rec room, not speaking but at least sitting together. I said the same thing to Bekeri in his workshop, and to Simeon in his cabin and Harvin on the bridge. I needed them to know what I’d done. I needed to confess my crime. “I killed them all. I’m so sorry.”

Soon I’d know how many, as the gunship slowly became part of me. Or, not so slowly; it was going much faster than it had when I assimilated New Me. Twice as fast, if my intuition was to be trusted. At the same time, the gunship was a fair bit bigger than New Me had been, so it was still going to take at least six hours to make it all part of me. Six hours to wonder just how many crew I’d killed.

As soon as I spoke, everyone reacted with surprise and relief. Everyone except Varlanda, of course, since she already knew. Instead of telling me how good it was to hear my voice in her head or asking how I was, like the others did, Varlanda said, “It’s not your fault, Star.”

“It is,” I said, speaking only to her. “It was Temeri’s suggestion, but I chose to act on it. I could have refused or tried to think of some other plan that wouldn’t hurt anyone, but I didn’t. I didn’t, because this genuinely seemed like the best way to keep you safe. And I still think that, it’s just… I killed them, Varlanda. I intentionally did something that killed a whole ship. I did something terrible, and now I don’t know what to do. I… Varlanda, I don’t think I like myself anymore.”

“Oh, no! Star, sweetie, don’t think like that!” Varlanda said, at once sounding incredibly concerned and giving Temeri a look that I really didn’t like.

Temeri didn’t say anything about it, despite being the captain. Instead she asked, “She’s talking to you? How is she?”

“Full of guilt and self-loathing,” Varlanda replied, and I knew that the tone she used really wasn’t acceptable from a member of the Crew toward a superior officer. But again, Temeri didn’t comment, even though both Bekeri and Harvin had arrived at the rec room and heard. She just looked ashamed.

“Star, listen,” Varlanda continued, returning to the kind, worried tone she’d used before. “You did what you had to do, okay? And I’m so sorry that you had to do something so hard and painful, but you did it to keep us safe. And it worked! Now we can put ourselves in an orbit where Avara will stay between us and Erebus, so whoever these pirates are can’t see us. And if they come around the planet, you’ll be able to react much faster than they can plot and change their trajectory, right? And until then, we’ll have time and all the materials we could possibly need. Really, Star, I’m so sorry that this hurt you so much, but you couldn’t possibly have helped us more.”

“Really?” I asked, barely even daring to believe her. “You’re not just saying that to make me less sad?”

“No, Star. I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you. I won’t say that you saved our lives, because we may have been able to survive by escaping into the void, but you’ve put us in a much better position than we were this morning. Oh, and do you know what?”

“What?” I asked, feeling the tiniest bit better. I still felt absolutely awful for what I’d done, and I couldn’t imagine liking myself again anytime soon, but I could at least believe that I’d done something good along with the bad.

“I finished the Development Matrix while you were sleeping. It’s connected and active; you should be able to feel it!”

“You’re trying to distract me!” I accused, but I couldn’t help myself. Despite everything, an excitement had flared up, and when I checked and felt that the Matrix was indeed connected and online, that excitement only grew.

“Yes, I am,” Varlanda admitted. “Is it working?”

“This is amazing!” I said, and I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice. “Oh, this is going to be so useful!”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Varlanda said, and now she was smiling with both happiness and relief. And I knew that she really meant it, because I knew in my bones — in my struts and frames and girders — that when she said she wouldn’t lie to me, she was telling the truth. Perhaps “I knew she was telling the truth because I knew she was” isn’t the most convincing argument, but it was as clear to me as anything. She was part of me, and I was her masterpiece, and neither of us had any reason to be less than truthful. And as I realized all that, I got a message.

Varlanda Tell has reached Crew level 3!

I honestly didn’t know what that would do, but it pushed the darkness back a little bit. And it gave me something to focus on besides what my slow assimilation of the gunship was telling me, which was really nice right about then.

“So what does it do?” Varlanda asked. While I was thinking, she’d barely even paused.

“Hmm? Oh, the Matrix! It’s so great!” I said excitedly, making sure that I was talking to everyone. I wanted to share this! “It lets me make myself better in all kinds of ways! Listen:”

Basic Hull Developments — 2500 mana

Hardened Hull

Light-weight Hull

Basic Structure Developments — 2500 mana

Hardened Structure

Light-weight Structure

Available Categories — 5000 mana

Unlock Basic Crew Developments

Unlock Basic Field Developments

Unlock Basic Mana Developments

Unlock Basic Sensor Developments

Unlock Basic Teleportation Developments

Unlock Basic Thruster Developments

“Doesn’t it all sound great?” I asked once I’d finished listing my options. They sure sounded great to me! “All I have to do is pick something, feed mana into the Matrix, and it’ll take care of the rest! And it has a Crew category!”

“That is great,” Varlanda agreed. “Isn’t that great?” she asked the others. They were all in the rec room by then, and they were all smiling and nodding — even Temeri!

“There are so many possibilities!” Bekeri said. “Tell me, Star, this Light-weight Structure, how does it work? What happens to the mass? Does it affect structural integrity at all?”

“Um…” I said, focusing on the option. I only ever got general ideas of what things did, and now was no exception. “I don’t know!” I declared, “Oh, except that it reduces the weight without making it any weaker. And Hardened Structure makes it stronger without making it any heavier!”

“Fantastic! Perhaps the mass is converted to mana, somehow? Star, you should—”

“Star should pick whatever she feels appropriate,” Temeri said, cutting Bekeri off. Then she looked at the assembled Crew and said, “Star, I want to apologize. Not for what I asked you to do; I stand by that, even though I knew it would cause you some pain. But I didn’t consider just how deeply it would hurt you. I thought, after the crew of the first ship boarded us… but, no. No excuses. I didn’t fully consider your feelings, and for that, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Temeri,” I said. “You told me your idea, and I agreed, and then I did it.” Then, in the spirit of honesty and not holding anything back that she’d shown, I continued, “But it feels good that you did. Thank you.”

“Yeah, I… it felt good to say,” Temeri said. Then she looked at the assembled Crew and said, “I know it’s a bit late, but how about some dinner?”

“That sounds good, Captain,” Simeon said. Bekeri and Harvin quickly agreed, but the silence that dragged on as Varlanda just looked at Temeri without saying anything was very uncomfortable. “Come on, Vee,” Simeon said. “What do you say?”

There were another few seconds where no one said anything. Then Varlanda sighed and said, “Great idea, Temeri. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  *

During the meal, we didn’t talk about what had happened — not a single part of it. We didn’t talk about the trap we’d laid or its outcome, or how I’d reacted. We didn’t talk about how Temeri, the captain, had been frozen out after I became silent. The Crew barely even talked about anything personal, either. Instead, all everyone wanted to talk about were my Development Options. Which was kind of work related and normally off limits, but we were too excited to care about that.

It was a great distraction, too. I normally didn’t contribute much during their mealtimes; I was happy to just listen, trying to see which of their stories I could remember being part of. But now I was an active part of the conversation, and that let me really focus, which was great! As I slowly assimilated the gunship, a few inches in every direction per minute, I kept coming across things that I really didn’t want to be paying attention to. I’d have to, soon enough, but not yet. Not yet.

I’d figured out two more things by thinking about the Development Matrix. It would be nice if there was just something in the archives, or a help function or something, but nope, that wasn’t how things worked. Instead, I had to get curious about the right thing, and hey! It turned out I already knew some things, actually!

For example, the Light-weight options would halve the mass of my Hull and structure respectively every ten levels. The Hardened options would double the durability every ten levels. And the cost of doing anything depended on how many times I’d developed a category, increasing by ten percent of the base cost per level, no matter what combination of developments I’d chosen previously.

What we quickly agreed on was that we wanted to avoid getting shot at or boarded as much as possible, and that speed was the best way to do that. Until Bekeri could maybe fix some of the thrusters, that meant either unlocking Basic Thruster Developments or decreasing my mass. And because of how volume and area works, there was a lot more structure in me than Hull on my surface; in fact, of my current 6500 or so tons of unladen mass, almost 5000 was structural, with only about 1000 being Hull. And that was with the extra Hull I’d added!

Together we decided that the best thing to do was for me to get a few levels of Light-weight Structure — Bekeri was very insistent that we observe what happened to the mass when I gained a level. That would let us accelerate faster or spend less fuel. And then I’d unlock Basic Crew Developments, because I wanted it, and everybody thought it would be nice for me to get something. Even if it did probably benefit them.

After that we’d have to talk again, but we were pretty much in agreement that the Basic Mana Developments Unlock should also be a priority. After all, the Development Matrix was going to be using a lot of mana. In our current orbit, after the cost of running the gravity field and some other things that used mana, I was regenerating 1.55 mana per minute. The Mana Condensation Matrix was gaining 0.3 mana per minute, going directly to the formation of new Small Basic Mana Crystals; or actually a tiny bit more, since experience showed that it took 6 and a half hours for the Matrix to produce a Small Basic Mana Crystal. If we gave up on the Mana Battery for a while, we could make do with the slightly less than four mana crystals per day from the Condensation Matrix. And at 1.5 mana per minute — leaving a tiny trickle to refill my mana pool — it would take me just under 28 hours to finish even the cheapest development.

That was what Bekeri arrived at, with some disappointment. I argued that reducing my mass significantly with no downside in just over a day was amazing. And Varlanda and Harvin backed me up, which ended that argument.

Increasing my mana regeneration rate somehow would be really good though.

Temeri was mostly silent throughout the meal. I noticed her playing with her nails a lot, too. When they’d all finished up and went back to their duties — which in Bekeri and Varlanda’s case meant excitedly getting an early start on the Manufacturing Matrix before bed — Temeri stayed in the rec room. Alone again, she just sat there, in silence, playing with her nails.

“Temeri,” I said softly. She looked up, which was entirely unnecessary, but I didn’t feel like it was the time to point that out. “Do you want to talk? You look like you might need to talk.”

“I, uh…” she said. “I think we should, Yeah.”

“Okay! How—?” I started, but she cut me off.

“Can we do this in my cabin?” she asked. Her voice sounded strained, like she was maybe a little ill or something.

I considered asking if she should see Simeon but decided not to. If she was sick, she could see the Healer after we talked, after all. “Sure,” I told her. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah,” she said with a small smile that never touched her eyes. “Until I go to bed, you’re welcome in my cabin.”

It was only a very short walk from the rec room to her cabin. Once her door was closed, she sat down on her very neat bed — nobody else made their bed every morning, but she did. She rested her elbows on her knees, leaned forward, and took a few deep breaths.

“I’m sorry, Star,” she said. “Truly, I’m so very sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Temeri. I already said. You did the best you could!”

“I know that you did, but I still want to. It’s important to me that you don’t think I only apologized when I did for the sake of the crew. They were… less than pleased with how our gambit affected you. Me apologizing in front of them helped restore some of the trust between us, I think, but I don’t want you to think that was why I did it.”

I hadn’t even considered that.

“And,” Temeri continued without pause, “to be frank, Star, you’re so concerned with our feelings that I can’t be sure you didn’t just say what you thought we needed to hear.”

I started to deny it but stopped myself. She was right: I was very concerned with how they felt. And sometimes I said what I thought they needed to hear. I didn’t lie to them, but sometimes there were things I might have told them that I didn’t, because they wouldn’t help anyone. Like how I’d considered voiding Varlanda the first time she got close to my Core, which was so horrible that I didn’t even want to remember it — much less tell anyone.

So, had I just told the Crew what I thought would make them feel better? Had I told anyone but Varlanda much at all?

Not really. Though I was having a conversation about that with Simeon at the same time as I talked to Temeri, which probably counted.

“I may have been holding back,” I admitted. “I told Varlanda a little more about how I feel, but I didn’t think it was necessary to bring all that up in front of everyone. I didn’t want you all to worry. But I really mean it when I say that you didn’t do anything wrong!”

Temeri didn’t reply for a little while. She was fidgeting with her nails again; this time she was clicking them against each other, right against left, then left against right. She never did that around the other Crew, and it felt like that meant something, but I wasn’t sure what. Finally she said, “Star, I’m the captain. I’m supposed to take care of my crew and my ship. You’re at least one of those, possibly both. And while it may sometimes be acceptable to push the crew beyond their limits in dire emergencies…”

She sighed heavily, the clicking of her nails against each other getting faster. “Star, I know you don’t think I did anything wrong, but the fact is: I made a grave error of judgement. I pushed you too far. I used you as a weapon, and as a result you went catatonic for seven hours. The only sign that you weren’t gone entirely was that the gravity was normal when it couldn’t possibly be, not with the damage you’d suffered, and we didn’t know what that meant. My mistake hurt you, and it did terrible damage to the morale of the crew, and for that, I really do have to apologize. I won’t do it again.”

I used you as a weapon. The words repeated in my mind as Temeri spoke, and I thought, That’s it, isn’t it? She’d used me as a weapon. Or rather, because I honestly didn’t think it was fair to blame her, I’d let her use me. And as I thought about it, as I racked my memory for what I knew about Temeri, I understood.

Temeri was a soldier in a way that none of the others were. She was stuck between an unknown number of enemies and the void, and fighting seemed like a better option than running if she wanted to protect her crew. So she’d used the only weapon she had available: me.

I didn’t like it, but I understood. And I didn’t blame her.

“Apology accepted, Temeri. Thank you,” I said. I kept my voice as steady and serious as I could, so she’d know that I meant it. And because I knew that she’d be tempted to do so anyway and would need my help to keep her word, I continued, “I won’t let you use me again.”

Temeri’s breath caught for just a moment, and her drumming stopped. Then her eyes opened wide with surprise, and she said, “Why in the void did I just get a skill?”