Starmind Chapter 34 (Patreon)

For hours on end, I had no one. No one to talk to. No one to listen to. No one to even watch as they went about their day. There wasn’t much to do but stare at the progress indicator of the Development Matrix. I wondered if this was what being dead was like.

At about 2030 hours, Maximum Mana Regeneration I finished. That should have been a cause for celebration and experimentation, but instead I dully started Mana Regeneration Efficiency. I had no one to discuss it with, so I just went for what felt right. At 1.15 mana per minute it would take thirty-nine and a half hours, and be done at noon two days later.

I metaphorically sat down and waited for something — anything — to happen. Nothing did. No ships came. None of the golems still in the bay with me moved. The station didn't contact me, and when I sent a very formal and normal-sounding request for a status update all I got back was a useless kind of “Please wait, evaluation pending.” At one point I checked the mana crystal storage. It was full at fifty crystals, and the Condensation Matrices had shut down. I hadn’t even known they could do that.

Everything was cold and silent and boring until late the next morning, when Varlanda opened her link and I felt alive again.

They all sounded okay! From what I could tell they hadn't been let out of what must have been a small suite of rooms, but they’d been fed and brought a bunch of books to entertain themselves with. That didn't mean that they were happy, though. They still didn't know who was holding them, or how long they should expect to be held. Nor had they been offered a chance to wash themselves, which was just unsanitary!

“Gods of the void, look at this!” Bekeri complained at one point.

“What?” Simeon asked, sounding distracted. “Oh. That's not so bad, is it?”

“Not so bad?! It's getting matted already! If I don't get access to a washbasin and some brushes soon I’m going to have to start grooming myself like a bloody naturist!”

I think Varlanda must have covered her mouth then, because there was a very loud sound of someone choking back a giggle.

“Yes, yes. Ha, ha,” Bekeri grumbled. Then after a short pause he added, completely seriously, “I suppose I’ve best start working on my flexibility. Some places—”

The room filled with laughter at that point. Even Temeri's and, a second later, Bekeri’s.

Varlanda couldn't keep the link open for very long. A Crew could only hold so much mana, after all, and they couldn't recover it nearly as fast as I could. Once she ran out it wasn't until late, late that evening that I heard from her again.

“Star?” she said, rousing me from the dark little hole I existed in when the link was closed. She was whispering very softly and there was loud singing in the background, but I heard her perfectly. She sounded so sad. “Please talk to me. I need to know that you're okay.”

I want to! I called out into the emptiness inside me where she should be. I wish I could, but I don't know how! You never told me how!

“Gods, I hope that you just haven't figured it out yet,” she said, and I flared with joy at the irrational thought that she'd somehow heard me — that she was answering me! But of course she wasn’t, because just as she hoped, I had no idea of how to respond to her.

Not that I’ve tried very hard, I thought guiltily. I’d been too focused on being miserable, and now I felt even more miserable over the fact that I’d let Varlanda worry.

“Sorry,” Varlanda whispered. “If you’re there, I’m sure you’re burning with guilt now. I didn’t mean to do that, sweetie. The connection is on your comms circuit, okay? I don’t know what the address for, uh, my hand is, but you need to try to send through a transmitter that doesn’t exist. Kind of. It’s hard to explain. Just don’t use any of your actual transmitters, alright? Just keep trying, and I’ll let you know if you did it. Your transmissions go straight to my ears, so don't worry about me hearing you. I will. And forgive the awful singing, please. The only one here with any kind of voice is Cap, but she’s been too shy about it to really cover for me talking to you. Don’t want our jailors to hear.”

If I’d had a face I would be grinning from ear to ear. Temeri was being shy again, like she had in the pool! And I hated that I was missing it, because the mental image was just adorable.

I lost a moment to imagining Temeri all red faced and struggling to sing a song for the others. Then I remembered that it was a little mean to enjoy Temeri’s imagined embarrassment so much, but really! She’d been absolutely precious when she hid half her face in the pool! Also, I scolded myself, what I should be doing was to follow Varlanda’s instructions.

It was hard! Using something that didn’t exist was not an intuitive thing to do, but I kept trying. After about two hours Varlanda said that they needed to sleep or it would look suspicious, but all that time Varlanda kept telling me that she was sure that I was there, and that I could do it. Except when she took her turn to sing; they all kept singing for as long as she kept the link open. They were all terrible except Temeri but they kept doing it so that Varlanda would be able to keep talking to me without rousing suspicion, and I felt the least alone I had since they left.

After Varlanda had to close the link I still kept trying, sending random combinations of impulses through my connection to the comms. I had no idea if I got through, but I had something of a system. I kept track of what I’d been trying at any given time, and when I tried to send it was the time I thought of, hoping that Varlanda would be able to tell me that, “Hey, I heard you say ‘0311 hours’!”

Morning came. Varlanda opened the link, but didn’t speak directly to me. From their conversation it didn’t seem like they were even being questioned or anything. They just sat in their small suite of rooms, reading, talking, sleeping, and waiting. I kept trying. After a few hours she had to let go, and I worried about what constantly exhausting her mana was doing to her. Then I contacted the station, requesting a status update, and got the same decision pending message back.

I kept trying.

At 1200 hours, almost to the minute, I finished Mana Regeneration Efficiency I. My mana regeneration went from 1.45 to 1.55, so with the 0.3 I was using to keep up appearances despite my reactor being off I had 1.25 to use on the next development, which was nice. I hoped it was a small enough increase not to be noticeable on the station’s mana sensors.

I didn’t really know what to do next. Crew Developments felt pointless with no one to spoil, and while everything else sounded interesting I didn’t feel comfortable — or competent — to decide what to spend time on without my Crew to discuss it with. So I just started the next level, figuring that faster mana regeneration would always be good.

I kept trying. And trying. And trying. Varlanda connected when she could and kept her link open as long as she had mana. The Crew would talk about what they’d done, or remind each other of conversations they’d had when I couldn’t hear them. Sometimes they’d do something loud in the background and Varlanda would talk to me, telling me that they were alright, that they all missed me, and that they believed in me.

The hours crept by, and I kept trying.

Just after midnight of the fifth day since we’d entered the asteroid station, as I was trying, and trying, and trying, Varlanda opened the link.

“Harv,” she whispered. “Hey, Harv! Did you hear that?”

“Hrml?” Harvin asked.

“I definitely heard something,” Varlanda said. “I definitely heard something just now!”

I came alive with excitement. Anxiously I tried the same combination of parameters I just had, calling out, “Varlanda! Can you hear me?” But she didn’t react. I tried the one before. Nothing. Then the third to last combination, and—”

“There it was again,” Varlanda said. “Like I heard the Stars say my name.”

“Din’t hear’nything,” Harvin muttered, and there was a rustle of sheets.

“I’m here, Varlanda!” I cheered with a joy unlike anything I’d felt before. We could talk to each other! We could tell each other that we were okay! We could plot, and scheme, and figure a way out! It wasn’t perfect. Varlanda couldn’t speak openly if she wanted to conceal what she’d done from the station — though it was pretty obvious that she’d let the Crew know what she’d done, no matter how frowned upon it might be. But it was something. It was a start.

It was also just after midnight, and I’d woken Varlanda from her sleep. “I’m going to stop bothering you,” I told her. “You need your rest. But I need to thank you, Varlanda. The few hours each day that I could hear you have made this all bearable.”

“Alright, sweetie,” Varlanda whispered, as though to someone else. But she was letting me know that she heard. I knew that she was. “Sweet dreams.”

“Mmm,” Harvin sighed.

Varlanda snorted softly, and closed her side of the connection. After a moment, when I’d fought down the urge to gush in detail over how much I missed them all and how much I’d appreciated every single thing they’d done to include me, I closed my end as well.

I didn’t have them back, but we could talk. It was something. It was a start.

*

At 0420 hours that morning I finished Mana Regeneration Efficiency II. I started the next level, because why not? My mana regeneration increased to 1.67 per minute, leaving me 1.37 to use. I spent it all on faster development, bracing myself for a reaction from the station. None came. I wondered if it hadn't noticed or if it just didn't care.

More time passed, and then Varlanda spoke to me with the sounds of a four-way conversation filling the background, and all was, if not well, then better.

“Please tell me I wasn't dreaming,” she said, and I could imagine her barely whispering into her palm. “Tell me you're there!”

“I’m here, Varlanda!” I said, full of joy. “I can hear you, and I'm here! Some stuff happened with the golems, and the station won't tell me anything, and I finished two levels of Mana Regeneration Efficiency!”

“That's… that last one’s great, Star,” she said, and I could hear her smile by how her voice creaked. “And I’d love to hear about the first. You can tell me, alright? I won't be able to respond much without looking suspicious, but talk all you want, sweetie!”

I’d gotten to the point where the golems seemed to be listening to me, when the station hailed me, informing me that there would be another inspection. It didn’t say why, and when I queried it, it only responded that failure to comply would be met with lethal force.

I confirmed that the docking port would be open. At the same time I told Varlanda what was happening. I wasn’t even worried. Last time had gone fine, after all!

The same six little fluttery ball golems as before returned not much later. At least I assumed it was the same six — I could feel five of them as they approached, so they were definitely the same, and there had been a sixth one that led my Crew away. I figured they were a team or something. They entered through the docking port, and I silently said hello to the five I knew, telling them that they should report that nothing was out of the ordinary. They all sent back happy little confirmations — or at least I decided to interpret them as happy.

After the first inspection, I trusted those five. That left only the sixth: the one who’d taken my Crew away. And I knew that it wasn’t it’s fault, but I was still sort of mad at it, and I kept a close eye on it as it went about its business of sticking its nose in my business. I knew very well that being mad at a golem made no sense at all; I imagined I must have gotten that from the bits and pieces of the Crew that had smooshed together to create me. They only let things not making sense stop them when it was really important.

That sixth little rascal went straight for the crystal chamber, and parked itself in front of the column holding my Core. Then it requested that I open up.

I told it the equivalent of, “Just a moment, my hands are full,” and then I told my other golems that I was very sorry but they should brace for high gravity since their comrade was trying to do something I’d rather it didn’t. They all replied that they understood. And then they all converged on the crystal chamber.

Number Six was hovering impatiently, repeating its request every few seconds as the others entered, one by one. Only when they were all there, surrounding it, did it seem to notice them, and I caught the scatter of a few quick bursts of communication. It asked what was going on. They, in unison, replied that it would understand in a moment. Then they pounced.

It was the only word I could think of that really described it. With their little manipulator arms and inspection tentacles extended, they all closed in and fouled Number Six’s wings, bringing it to the floor. And once it was on the floor, it only took a blink of a Crew’s eye before I could feel it, just like the others.

“Um, thank you,” I told them, vaguely uncomfortable but mostly nonplussed about the whole thing. “You can release it now.”

They did, returning to their pointless inspection.

“Sorry about that, Number Six,” I told my new golem. I refused to feel embarrassed about apologizing to it. “I didn't know that they'd do that. But as far as you need to know there’s nothing out of the ordinary with my Core, okay? It’s a perfectly ordinary Crystal Mind Matrix. Can you tell that to the station when you’re done here?”

Number Six happily confirmed that it would.

It only occurred to me later, after the golems had left, that I’d thought of them all as my golems.

*

“This is unacceptable!” Temeri’s voice was stern, if a little distant — I was hearing it through Varlanda’s hand after all. “Are you listening? We appreciate the relative comfort we’ve been held in, but it’s been five days and we still have not been informed of why or by whom we’re being held! Five days without a word, with no contact except deliveries of food and some reading materials! We are officers in the Sirellian Astral Navy, and we demand to know what’s happening! Or at least access to cleaning facilities!”

It was evening, and Temeri was right. We’d been separated for five days now, and they hadn’t gotten any more answers than I had. Whoever ran this station they remained silent, beyond informing me of the inspection earlier that day.

“Do you hear me?” Temeri asked, her voice becoming even harder than it had been. “This is illegal, and it’s unhygienic! If nothing else, we need to wash ourselves and our clothes, void take you!”

It took a long couple of seconds, while the other Crew made soothing sounds at Temeri, before suddenly that same warm, welcoming voice replied. “You are being temporarily detained,” it said, “while your ship is inspected and a decision is made on your status.”

“Finally!” Temeri breathed heavily before continuing, “by whom? Who is making this decision? I want to speak with them!”

There was another long pause before the voice said, “The authority to decide on your status lies with Captain Osterling, who is not currently onboard.”

“When will they return?”

A pause. “Unknown.”

“In that case I want to speak with the captain’s second in command, or whoever is in charge while they’re away.”

“That will unfortunately not be possible. None of the captain’s subordinate officers are currently available.”

There was a long pause before Temeri said, “How long until any of them are?”

“Unknown.”

“So we’re being held ‘temporarily’ until the captain or someone else with authority returns to duty?”

“Correct.”

“But you have no idea when that might be?”

“Correct.”

A long pause. “How long have they been away?”

“As you have not been confirmed as non-hostile, I cannot provide that information.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Varlanda shouted, her voice so much louder than either of the others. “You can’t just hold us—”

“Tell!” Temeri barked. “Cut the chatter!”

I could hear the soft Click as Varlanda’s mouth snapped shut.

“Thank you! Now, station, whoever you are, my Enchantress is right. This is ridiculous! You’re keeping us in unsanitary conditions, you have no idea when this temporary detention might be over, and you won’t even let me talk to anyone! At least let us return to our ship! We can’t go anywhere, but I will happily make a gentleman’s agreement—”

“I don’t have the authority to let you do that!” the voice said, and while it was still the same voice, its tone was… frazzled? “Standard procedure for a ship coming down the docking tunnel is to detain and inspect pending a decision from the captain or other commanding officer!”

After a tired sigh, Temeri said, “If we’re being held indefinitely, can I at least know to whom I’m speaking and where we are?”

“As you have not…” The voice trailed off. Then, sounding almost as tired as Temeri, it almost muttered, “Oh, what harm could it do. You’re here already,” before continuing, in its normal tone, “You are on an independent research station constructed for and belonging to the Ex Nihilo Project. I am the station’s operating Crystal Mind. The station has no formal name, but the inhabitants took to calling it, and me, Sophia. It’s… nice to meet you.”

“I wish I could say the same, Sophia. Under better circumstances, perhaps it would be. Would it be possible for us to speak with a sapient, no matter their rank or role? Really, anyone will do.”

“Rude,” Sophia said. “Unfortunately, there are no biological sapients onboard at this time who are not in medical stasis awaiting treatment. I’m all alone here. If you want to talk, I’m it.”

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Meet Sophia. Sophia is lonely. As much as a perfectly normal Crystal Mind can be, at any rate.